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rex-rambles · 9 days ago

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➤ THIS COULD BE LOVE | MAX VERSTAPPEN

pairing: max verstappen x not!soulmate(?)reader

request: more soulmate aus?

summary: when you and max meet in the middle of a monaco night, max doesn't want to believe in soulmates. he wants to believe in something real.

wc: 7.7 k

warnings: angst with a happy ending! some suggestive content (not explicit), villainization of jos verstappen and reference to poor childhoods and past injury

➤ MASTERLIST - OSCAR'S SOULMATE STORY

When you and Max meet in the middle of the night, it's the sort of serendipity that makes Max believe less in the universe. He'd lost his faith in it in his childhood, of fate, of something set, of something magical, of soulmates. His parents were soulmates, anyway, and he knew how well that story went. He knew all the tales of those who gave up dreams and aspirations for magical nudges from something greater, none of which he found convincing compared to the reality of the world, the hard concrete ground of the racing track, and the voice of his father.

Soulmates were just another distraction in a world full of them. To pursue your dreams, to want something bigger, you couldn't believe in fairytales fed to you by the delusional. It didn't stop Max's 18th birthday from rolling around anyway, waiting with baited breath for some sign, some magic name on the inside of his wrist, anything. It took a few days for his soul mark to be spotted on the back of his right shoulder, over his shoulder blade. It took a few days after that for Jos to notice and to continue his rants on the distractions of love in the path of greatness.

After that, after everything his father put him through, everything Max did to earn his love, he stopped caring about soulmates. He'd meet the love of his life someday, surely, even with his soul mark bandaged, hidden from flashing cameras. It was through his fame Max realized how right his father was, of those attempting anything to copy his soulmate to pretend to be his love, a warning straight out of whatever textbook his father used to learn how to raise his children. If it was still in publication, Max was pretty sure he'd pay good money to have every copy burned. Soulmates, magical connections, they were just another distraction. He didn't want someone loving him because of a mark, because of how fast he went around a track and how much money he made, he wanted something real. Someone to look at him and think that he was meant to be theirs for no other reason than Max himself.

It didn't stop the whole thing from getting to Max every so often, when someone close to him found their supposed one true love, when it made the headlines. Tonight, it was some bartender seeing colour for the first time, their soulmate a patron. The whole bar exploded with drunken excitement for them, forcing Max out into the night air because there were some things even a man as strong as him couldn't stand.

"-and don't fucking follow me!" A man calls, slamming the door to a cab as it rips off into the hot Monaco night, and Max finds that the words are not directed at him, but rather you, sitting on the curb, looking entirely unenthused.

Without thinking much of it, Max finds his place beside you. "Trouble in paradise?" He finds himself saying, scrubbing his hands over his face. Just because people were soulmates didn't mean it mattered, didn't mean it would last, didn't make both parties nice.

"I wish," You breath out softly, "They're not my soulmate. Just a date."

"A date?" Max echoes, sparing a glance your way. In the mixture of moonlight and streetlights, there's a sort of warmth from you that has Max wonder why you'd go on a date with someone who isn't your soulmate, even if he understands it perfectly well.

"Surprising, isn't it?" You muse, sparing a glance up at the night sky. "Dating someone who isn't your soulmate, how terrible."

"No, no." Max is quick to correct. "I understand."

And then, in the middle of the heated Monaco night, you lock eyes with him for the first time, and if it were meant to be something, Max would feel something. Instead, he takes in someone pretty, warm from the night, flushed softly, probably from the drinks at the bar. He takes in someone who went on a date without their soulmate, and he feels a little bit less alone in this strange, awful world. Your eyes are slow to part from his, only breaking his stare when a car drives by too fast. "My soulmate passed away, I think." You admit quietly, almost hidden under the dragging noise of the car as it passes. "It's not worth being alone the rest of your life because you missed out on the perfect match. I'll settle for second best." Then, with a soft laugh, "Third, even."

"I have a soulmate." Max says, and you turn to look at him again, that softness slowly slipping away. "And I don't want them. Don't know who they are."

"So you're leaving some poor soul all alone for nothing?" Max shakes his head, trying not to think of whatever 'poor soul' matches with him. It was always a selfish thing to try and explain, but that was how Max was raised to think, and some habits die hard.

"I want someone to want me for me." He says then, the words so often unspoken. He'd rarely talked about this to any of his teammates, and to admit it to a stranger somehow felt better. Your soulmate had passed; there was no threat of a matching symbol. You would just understand what it was like to be alone, to be othered and date anyway. "Not because I'm supposed to be a soulmate, or for some random choice that we don't even understand. For no real reason."

You don't answer immediately, just staring at him intently, before you nod slowly. "You want someone to fall in love with you for the sake of loving you."

"I don't want to hurt my 'soulmate' in the process," He says with air quotes, "But them loving me for a mark is just not what I want, in the end." He doesn't tell you about how he also doesn't want someone to fall in love with him for the fame, and he realizes only in this moment, it's because you could fall in love with him.

For him.

Your soulmate had passed, you were already going on dates. You could get to know him for no other reason than to know him, and he could make it work. The warmth he gets when he looks at you isn't magical: it's something realistic. "And how has that gone so far?"

"Haven't got a single date." Max jokes, but it's the truth. No one wants to date a random stranger when their soulmate might be out there. "For obvious reasons. And you?"

"They don't last." You say quietly, "Like I'm a stepping stone before they find who they want." Then, because that's not the kind of thing to admit to a stranger, you duck your head with a soft blush, and Max scoots closer, leaning to nudge his shoulder with yours.

"You're the finish line for someone out there." He says, an unfortunate race reference he doesn't think about until later.

"Thought you didn't believe in soulmates," You answer back softly, rocking your shoulder into his, and Max finds himself grinning down at you.

He didn't believe in soulmates, he believed in this. Real connection, with real people, no magical, mystical interference necessary. "Didn't say that person had to be your soulmate. Could be anyone." His eyes flicker down your dress, stuck on the open back of it, the perfect curve of your spine, and he has to take a slow breath. "Some stranger on the street."

You turn to look at Max with something so close to hope that he can't think too much about it, or he'll start to fall sooner than he can prepare for the landing. He just wants proof that he can love, and be loved, without needing a soulmate or matching mark. He doesn't need you to be the answer to all of his problems; he just wants a chance. "You're really sweet." You say, that look of hope flickering, "But I'm only here a week."

"And?" He rises off the curb and extends a hand to help you up. "Doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves while you're here."

"You're not a tourist?" Your hand slips into his, and if you were his soulmate, if they were real, it would be something magical. Every story has the first touch being something so important, the final connection of a soul bond, but when your soft skin glides against his, nothing remotely fantastical happens, and Max loves it all the more for it.

"I'm a veterinarian here," He answers, the first fake profession he could think of as he helps you up. Might make the fact that he owns three cats more normal. He lets your hand drop, a terrible thing, and he gestures for you to follow him on the sidewalk. "I can take you for a midnight tour of Monaco if you like?"

"You know, this is typically how people end up kidnapped or dead, or something." Without much thinking, Max pulls his wallet from his pocket and hands it to you, and you blink up at him. "What?"

"If I was going to do something to you, why would I give you my wallet? It's got all my identification in there." You open the wallet, staring down at his driver's licence and flipping through the few cards he keeps in there, more out of curiosity, he thinks, than scrutiny.

You spare a glance up at him, folding the wallet up and tucking it into your purse. "Now it feels like I'm robbing you, Max."

"Well, I'd rather you take advantage of me than the other way around." You saying his name trips him up in a way he didn't expect, sounding so nice in your voice. It's just Max, he knows, but still.

It does something to his heart that he didn't realize it could do. "You're one of the strangest people I've ever met."

"Welcome to Monaco?" You laugh, another beautiful sound that has Max realizing he's more screwed than humanly possible. A week, he tries to remind himself, but with you by his side in that dress, it's hard to think of anything but the present.

You're not sure how you end up on the beach with Max, heels in hand, but it's a pleasant change of pace. If it hadn't already screwed you over, you'd say it's fate, to be here with him, but that wasn't possible. Not when whoever bore your matching soul mark had faded out, or at least the soulmark had, splotchy and scratched out in a way you could only imagine meant death.

It had happened so young, too, that it had never felt like you were able to pursue love or a soulmate seriously. Sure, there were online groups for widows, though you didn't consider yourself really a widow at this age. So, instead, you focused on all the other great things in your life, hoping for that miracle to come someday, and currently, it was in the form of a Dutch veterinarian in Monaco.

Not how you expected your night to go. "They're named after clubs?"

"Jimmy and Sassy are, but Donatello is not." Max answers very seriously, sparing a small grin your way, and you try to think what kind of experience he must have gone through to not want his soulmate, to want love from anyone, just for being him. You understand the thought of not wanting someone to just automatically stick with you for the sake of being a soulmate, but Max had so much to offer. You kept trying to find faults, but all you found were cats and a sweet tooth. "What would you have named them?"

"Three cats? You should give them all names with the same first letter, like Jessica, James, and John." A laugh bubbles out of Max at the suggestion, a bright thing that has you blushing, luckily hidden in the dim light of Monaco's nights.

"I am not naming a cat Jessica. Or James."

"But John works?" You tease, stopping to stare up at a crystal clear night that, even with the light pollution, reveals a sky littered with stars. Max comes to stop at your side, saying nothing for a moment as the two of you just stare out into the night, and your hand brushes his.

It shouldn't be this electrifying. Shouldn't be something so intense from a stranger, some truly random man you met in the night, but it was the sort of adventure you wouldn't mind pursuing. You only had a week here, but maybe you wouldn't mind spending that week with Max. "For the right cat," Max finally continues, still happily enthralled with the cat conversation, "John would work."

"Do you think the water would be nice?" You ask, stepping closer to the shore. The water barely reaches your toes, and without much consideration for his pants, Max pulls his shoes and socks off, and wades in shin-deep. You laugh, watching him practically stomp around, and there's an evil glint in his eye that has him charging at you. You don't even try to run, letting him grab you by the waist and haul you into the water, spinning you around and sending water flying around with it. Your hands brace against his shoulders, and for working with so many different animals, he'd have to be strong for that, surely.

Or maybe he just likes to work out in his free time, your hands smoothing against his biceps as he sets you down into the water, a pleasant thought you tuck away for later. "Does that answer your question?"

"You are ridiculous." Then, you realize Max hadn't let go of your waist, and you hadn't let go of his arms, wrapped up together and standing in the water like it was normal.

Because it could be.

This could be your future, if you really think of it. Love was something worth pursuing, even if it wasn't the perfect match set out for you from the universe. You had spent so long mourning your soulmate you hadn't stopped to realize that maybe, just maybe, there were other people out there for you.

That there could be a Max, after it all. And you could kiss him, if you wanted, looking up at him in the moonlit night, on a random beach, but fear stirs in your stomach too quickly to let you. There was little evidence this could ever be more than a pleasant night, that it would last, and Max notices your hesitation, very gently letting your waist go. "We, uh, don't have towels." You say, trying to direct the conversation away from your spiralling thoughts. "We're going to have wet feet."

"Well, I might have wet feet." Max makes his way back to his shoes, using his socks to wipe off his feet before putting his sneakers on, and then he finds you at the edge of the shore, and holds out his arms. "But I could carry you?"

"Carry me?" You echo, blush rising to your cheeks, and you realize Max is waiting for permission. "I mean, I might be heavy, I-"

"Oh, heavy!" Max then proceeds to scoop you up, bridal style, like it's nothing. He marches up to where the beach meets a cobblestone road, and gently sets you on the low stone fence seperating the two.

And then, like it's normal, like it's something people do, he squats down without a word and helps put your heels on, a Cinderella moment that has you considering if maybe he really was your long-lost soulmate.

You'd never asked what his trait was, never got to see what it could be. Maybe you had matching, scratched-out marks. Maybe he got into an accident that damaged it. Maybe, by the way he's looking up at you, it didn't matter. "What brings you to Monaco?" Max continues, as if he didn't just do the sweetest thing anyone has for you in a long, long time.

"A break from it all." Max leads you down the street toward your hotel, and you don't want the night to end, both for your enjoyment, and the concern that it all might be over tomorrow.

Max doesn't realize you'd stopped infront of your hotel, sparing a glance to your side and then doing a small spin to face you again, lopsided smile revealed in the streetlight above him. "You should come back," He says, coming to lean on the wall of the hotel beside you. "I'm not sure I can show you all you need to see in just a week."

"I might need more convincing than that." You joke, and Max smiles down at you, a sight that has your stomach flipping, and this time, before you let your emotions truly get in the way, you lean up on the tips of your toes and press a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for all this, Max. It really means a lot."

Max's hand hovers over his cheek, shock plain on his face from the kiss, and you're worried you've overstepped before he's blushing deeply, a perfect pink colour picked up in the lights of the hotel. It's a view you could get used to. "Oh," He breathes out softly, a small, giddy smile breaking out across his face. "You're most certainly welcome."

You take a step up the hotel stairs and Max calls after you, making you pause above him, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets, as if some kind of non-chalant defense for whatever he's about to say next.

"Think I could convince you to give me your number?" You half-heartedly roll your eyes, coming back down the stairs to put your number in his phone. You send off a test text, and you hope it's enough to make him want you tomorrow, because the more time you spend with him, the more you try not to get your hopes up.

He's not your soulmate, and this isn't fate, but god, do you want it to be.

You move back up the stairs and step into the hotel, leaving the door open to look back at Max, and you know you can't invite him up, can't jump through that many stages yet, and Max respectfully waits on the sidewalk, that stupid smile still on his face. "Goodnight, Max."

"Goodnight," He says, along with some word in what you assume to be Dutch. You try to figure out what he possibly could have said when Max waves a hand, ushering you toward the elevator. "Forget it, it's Dutch. Go get some sleep."

It's only when you get to your room do you realize you still have his wallet.

Max awakes to the sound of his phone buzzing. Glancing at the screen, since he came home and crashed, he's missed a handful of texts.

unknown

hey! i still have your wallet

Then, about half an hour later,

unknown

I really needed that tonight, thank you

Maybe you can give me a tour sometime?

Then, this morning,

unknown

me again, if this is the wrong number, can you let me know?

Glancing at the time, Max realizes he's slept in until noon. With a curse, he drags himself out of bed and quickly tries to type out a response that doesn't make him seem like a degenerate.

max

sorry, I passed out after I got home

not used to staying out that late

i could give you that tour in return for the wallet today?

Your answer is almost instantaneous.

unknown

that sounds wonderful

sorry for keeping you up late

max

it was worth it

unknown

I'm on a run currently, do you want me to pick you up some breakfast to start our tour?

max

you are perfect

and waffles?

And it was the start of something perfect.

Without really putting too much thought into it, partially because it's early, partially because if he does, he'll start to crack into a million little pieces, he sends his address, and spends the next twenty minutes furiously cleaning everything he can. It's only once there's a knock on his door and he answers that he realizes he hasn't changed out of his pyjamas, left standing before you in an oversized t-shirt and boxers.

Somehow, though, it's not quite embarrassing. You just smile up at him, shaking your head with your arms full of take out boxes, his wallet balanced on top. "Give me a minute, and I'll get changed." He says, taking the boxes from you and setting them down on the counter, and you take in his space, almost presentable now with his frantic tidying.

He disappears into his bedroom, trying not to think too hard about whatever outfit he throws together, something nice and casual, nothing to get him noticed in the streets. Considering you had his wallet, and knew his name, there's a chance you might have searched him, which ruins the whole fame aspect of this, but for some reason, he has faith.

He steps back out to the kitchen to find you sitting on the ground, Donatello in your lap, and Max has to pause to take in the moment. It's so deeply domestic, of you curled up with his cats, boxes of waffles left open on the counter above you. He couldn't remember the last time he shared breakfast with someone outside of work, let someone into his space, like it was normal.

If he had his phone on him, he'd take a photo to remember the moment, but then you're looking up at him and smiling, and the memory will be better than any photo could be. "Who's this one?"

"Donatello, or Donut." Max moves to the counter and gathers up the boxes of waffles and watches you struggle to pick Donatello up to join him, but the cat just lets you awkwardly cradle it like a baby. "He likes you," Max admits as he falls onto his couch and promptly tears into one of the boxes of chocolate waffles. "He doesn't let me hold him like that."

"You're a vet!" You exclaim, coming to sit beside him, like this was normal, like you had always shared mornings, like it was meant to be, even if it never was. "Shouldn't you be an expert at this stuff?"

"It's not about me, it's about the animal." He extends his arms to try and take Donatello, who leaps off his lap and disappears somewhere into the house. "See?"

"Maybe that's what you get for naming him Donatello." You take one of the boxes, cutting up some crepe thing with a plastic knife and fork as Max takes his first bites of food. "Are you a car guy?"

Max's heart stutters in his chest before you gesture to his shelf, where some replica cars and car books stand out, glaringly obvious. "Oh, yeah. My dad's a big racing fan. Do you know anything about cars?"

"Not really, no." You answer truthfully, taking a bite. He waits for you to finish eating to continue asking questions, but then you're gesturing to his waffles. "Are they any good?"

"Want a piece?" Without another word, you cut some crepe and give it to him as he offers up a piece of the waffle, trading like it's nothing, and Max finds that he doesn't really care if you figure out who he is, because so far, you've treated him perfectly normal. You're curled up on the couch, by his side, trading pieces of fruit and breakfast, an unspoken thing that you do the entire morning.

When he slowly extends an arm over the back of the couch, letting you lean into him, you do, and you talk about the night before like it's nothing.

Because it was nothing. It wasn't some big, meaningful thing, some soulmate bond, it was just you and him. You don't ask to see his soul mark, and he doesn't ask to see yours. You just sit in each other's company, laughing over the cats being idiots, and Max unfortunately realizes that he could really, really get used to this.

A week wouldn't be long enough, so mentally, he decides to pull out every stop. Yachts, restaurants, hikes, anything that might convince you to stay, or at least stay with him.

Anything to convince Max that something like this could last, and that it could be love.

"What's your favourite colour?" You ask Max, taking your time as you wander through the Japanese-style garden he'd brought you to. For a veterinarian, he somehow had access to some of the best places in Monaco, apparently due to all the wealthy people whose pets are his patients.

"Blue, I think." Max answers absent-mindedly, stopping to study a bush of flowers intently. "Here, come look."

"What did you say in Dutch, the other day? Sounded like cat something." You join Max's side to see a butterfly perfectly perched on a flower, and distracted, you don't see how red Max gets at your question.

"Nothing," He repeats softly, his hand gently brushing against yours. Without much thought, you link your fingers together, and walk the rest of the garden like that. "Just means good night."

You are currently lounging on Max's yacht in a blue one-piece bathing suit, and Max has never struggled to look at a person more. It's sort of the opposite, really, that he wants to stare at you, to keep looking at the way your curves lay out perfectly on the blanket he provided, that you might have bought that suit for him, because it's his favourite colour.

"You know," Max says before he can stop himself, "Wearing a blue bathing suit can be dangerous. You might not be spotted in the water."

"What?" You say, rolling over to look at him, and Max has to stare intently down at the book he's trying to read to not look in your direction. "But I've worn this for years, no one ever said anything."

I've worn this for years.

His shade of blue, like it was meant to be, but it wasn't, because this was just something real, something two people could share without anything else influencing it. "I can take you shopping for something brighter? Just in case."

"You just want to see me try on bathing suits, that's what this is." You tease, and Max flushes red. Then, to his surprise, you rise, coming to sit on the end of his lounger in the shade, and he ever so carefully looks up, so that he only looks at your face. "Do you need any sunscreen? You're getting pretty red."

"It's not the sun." Max blurts, before quickly trying to return to his book. Then, your hand comes to pull the book down from his face, and the joy in your expression is something evil.

"You really do like blue, hm?" Max tosses his book to the side, uncaring where it lands before he's picking you up. "Wait, Max, Max! Not the water, not the water!"

"Perfect day for a swim, no?" He teases, and you smack his chest.

"I thought you said people couldn't see me if I was in blue." You do have a point there. Without letting you go, Max settles back into his lounger, you in his lap, and without needing any instructions, you happily bury your face into the crook of his neck, letting Max hold you there.

At some point, your breathing evens out, and in the only chance Max has, he gently presses a kiss to your forehead and lets himself fall asleep too.

The last day doesn't quite feel real. Max had gotten you dinner reservations at a Michelin star restaurant, and you had tried to teach him yoga in the morning, and somewhere in between, you'd gone for a hike and gotten gelato, and Max had fallen into what he realized now might be love.

"You know," He finds himself saying, watching as you curl up in his side, Donatello in your lap and his suit jacket around your shoulders, "I think Donut might miss you more than me."

It was a perfect mirror to your first morning here. You had come back from dinner, not even thinking about returning to Max's apartment instead of your hotel. At this point, he should've told you to bring your suitcase, to spend the week here, but there were some boundaries you had yet to cross. "I can't say the same for Jimmy or Sassy," You say up to him, both cats nowhere to be found. They'd always been more territorial over Max anyway. You shift further into his side on the couch, hand reaching up to adjust his jacket before remembering that you had to give it back, and before remembering that you had to go.

Max watches both thoughts occur to you in real time, the smile slowly fading from your features. "I suppose this is it." He says softly above you. Neither of you had talked about what this was, what it meant, and frankly, Max was terrified to bring it up on his own.

He loved you. It was a strange conclusion to come to in only a week, but you were living, breathing proof that someone could care for him without a mark, without the fame, his identity perfectly tucked away the whole time. You could've searched him up, could've done a lot of things, but he's not sure you ever did.

"Can I ask a question?" Max asks, hand coming up to gently brush some loose hair away from your face, a domestic moment that might haunt him forever. "Did you ever search me? My name, in the wallet?"

"What, Max Verstappen?" His full name haunts him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it doesn't seem to come. "No, I didn't. Should I have?"

"I'm not a veterinarian." He answers softly, and the confusion on your face morphs into something closer to fear, and very gently, Max finally admits what he's been keeping from you. "Another reason I don't want to pursue a soulmate is because I am a Formula One driver, and enough people have pretended to love me for that. That's why there's so much car stuff."

"Max," You breath out softly, shifting up to look at him more directly, "I know why you didn't, but you could have told me."

"You are proof enough that I was right, though." You were here, curled up in his home like it was yours, with no strings attached. He trusted you when you said you didn't know his identity, because he trusted you entirely. "I don't need a mark or money to make someone love me." Your eyes widen, and Max realizes rather quickly what he just said aloud, scrapping all the progress he made to drop that word on you after only a week. "I didn't mean, as in I thought, after the week, I-"

"Wait, Max-"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think of-"

"Max." You sit up properly now, facing him, and if this were another fantasy, Max would drag you into his lap, hold you there for a while, but now, he lets his hands ball up into useless fists at his side, waiting for you to tear a strip off of him for saying that you loved him after a week. Instead of the coming anger he expects, however, there's a softness as you gently place a hand on his chest, smoothing down his tie. "I don't think either of us can call this love yet." You say, and Max tries to get something out before you can continue. "But you're right. You don't need a soulmark or money to make someone love you, because I have spent the most incredible week with you, and the only thing I've cared about is needing to get to know you more. Not more about your soulmark, or about your secret identity, I just wanted you."

You just wanted him.

God, this could be love. It's all Max can think as he leans in, kissing you before he can stop himself. It starts out as a soft, simple thing, but Max could never truly describe himself as soft, if not maybe only for you. His hands find your waist, pulling you into him, and you deepen the kiss as your arms wrap around his neck, slotting together like you were always meant to be here, even if you weren't. You pull apart for a breath, staring up at Max with so much knowing in your eyes that Max can't help but immediately loosen his tie, flinging it off to some far corner of his apartment before continuing.

He doesn't want to rush you, doesn't need to rush this, but god, all he can think is that this could be love, and all the ways he might be able to make you stay, to make you his. He doesn't care how many jets he has to charter, how many rules he had to bend, because you cared for him, the closest thing he's ever known to love.

Your hands begin to undo his dress shirt, beating him to his own game, and he practically rips it off himself to get to you, and your hand smooths over the bandage on his shoulder, and you still.

Desperately, Max wants to ignore it. He wants this moment to be his, he wants you to be his, and for this all to disappear.

But that's not how life works, unfortunately. That's not what Jos allowed. Someday, he'll have to talk about it, and as you slowly pull away, Max swallows thickly, trying to think of how he could tell you all that he did, all that he's done, to get rid of this damned mark. To make his father proud. To be the driver he needed to be.

"You don't have to show me," You say, somehow unexpected. Throughout this whole week, you had never rushed him, never tried to make him talk about soulmates again. Still, with this much tension between you, with that damned bandage under your hand, he didn't expect you to happily ignore it. "We don't have to talk about it."

"It's ugly," Max says quietly, leaning back to press a hand to his eyes, the other still holding onto your waist, gentle but firm. "Shouldn't be seen anyway."

"No soulmark is ugly," You answer, a knowing to your voice. "I would never judge you for it."

"I scrubbed it off." The words hang in the air, a quiet admission that Max had never dared to tell another soul.

That after the hundredth race belittled by his father, tormented by this stupid mark, by a love that served no one, Max had found some solvent invented to get rid of soulmarks, and to the best of his ability, he scrubbed it off. It hurt like hell, the scar worse than the soulmark was itself, but Max got rid of it. "What?" Your confusion answers everything Max needed to know, slowly leaning back to put distance between the two of you.

"I was raised in a household where soulmarks didn't work. The universe didn't pick lovers, it just didn't...they didn't...work. And because I was determined to race, I was convinced love would get in the way. Didn't help that everyone kept throwing themselves at me, faking marks to try and convince me they were my partner. I scrubbed it off permanently, and I don't regret it."

He does.

It probably hurt his soulmate. It probably tortured him more than he needed at his age. You pull back even farther, a mix of emotions that Max can't read as you stare at him. Disgust, he's pretty sure. That he would do that to someone else. "That's why real partnerships matter to me. Not soulmarks that can be burned off."

"God, I'm sorry Max." The apology comes easily, despite Max's experience that it should be difficult. No one ever apologized to him sincerely, but it came to you like breathing. "I'm so sorry anyone ever made you feel like you had to get rid of that to succeed. I'm so sorry they convinced you it wasn't worth it."

"That doesn't matter now."

"Doesn't matter now? Of course it does, Max." Your hand smooths over the bandage on his shoulder. "If I'm the proof you need that love doesn't need to be scrubbed away, then so be it. Soulmarks be damned, you are so worthy, Max. You never should have felt the need to do...to do all that."

The tears come in waves that Max isn't used to, normally fighting them with all his might, but right now, he couldn't care as he lets them fall, your hands gently coming up to wipe them away. He was worthy.

That was all he was ever waiting to hear, he thinks. "I'm sorry," He says as he presses his face into your neck, your hand gently sliding into his hair, soothingly parting his hair this way and that. "That you never got to meet your soulmate. They were one lucky, lucky person."

"I got to meet you, didn't I?" You weren't his soulmate, he knows. But it was still a nice admission that has Max laughing sadly into your collarbone. "I never have to see your mark if you don't want, but never feel the need to hide it from me."

Without much thought, Max leans back and awkwardly reaches over his shoulder, tearing off the bandage in one clean rip, but he doesn't let you see right away. Instead, he finds himself stuck, staring at you through slowing tears as you begin to pull your dress over your head, a shock that has Max's eyes squeezing shut tight. "Wait, wait, you don't have to-"

"If you want to show me yours, I can show you mine." Max's eyes flutter open, and he never thought he'd be more distracted by a mark than by you, in your underwear, in his lap.

But he is, because it's his.

There, tucked on your ribs is his mark, the little lion-looking head, a symbol Max carried for years in homage to the one he scrubbed off. It's a matching scar, more faded now, but it's his, and instantly, his hand clamps over it to hide it from his sight.

You're his soulmate.

All that fighting, trying so hard to not need a soulmark to fall in love, and you were still his. "What, Max?"

"Don't move." Max manages to say under his breath, the next round of tears coming. "Please, god-"

Your hand smooths over his shoulder, fingers gently tracing over his scar, and once you make the full way around, you freeze, because of course you'd recognize a matching scar. All this time, you thought your soulmate had died because Max had scrubbed off his soulmark, making it look like he'd passed. "But I...I never felt the bond."

"I told you," He answers through gritted teeth, "I scrubbed it off. It must have broke the bond."

"Max." God, you should be so angry at him. He expects a tantrum, a fight, you storming out and ending this perfect week with all of Max's terribleness.

Because if the universe was right, you were his soulmate, and he'd ruined it all for you. You and him had fit so perfectly, and he had just fucked everything up to a degree that even he didn't know how to fix. "Changes how you think of me, huh?" He jokes softly, unable to meet your eyes, and to his surprise, you gently take his head in your hands and press a kiss to his forehead.

"Just confirms my suspicions, actually." You answer as Max's eyes flicker open, looking up to see you smiling at him.

Smiling. "What?"

"You might have destroyed our soul bond, but we still fell in love." You gently pat his chest as you lean back, taking a deep breath. "We were perfectly capable of falling in love with strangers, but something in me knew we were more than just...strangers."

"You're not mad?"

"This wasn't your fault." Oh. "You made some very, very poor decisions, but this...I couldn't blame you for this. I found my way back, didn't I?"

Oh.

Max pulls you into the tightest hug he can manage, holding you perfectly still as he finally comes to terms with the fact that once upon a time, you were his soulmate. He'd hurt you, scrubbed the mark and bond and made you believe he was dead, and you kept going. You kept trying to find love, and you found him, and maybe it all wasn't real.

Maybe it wasn't the universe. Maybe it wasn't fate. Maybe it wasn't soulmates. The bond had broken, after all, and you had both proven you were able to love each other without needing an inch of proof of forever. You just needed him now, and Max has to fight the tears he'd had built up inside him since he was eighteen.

He's not sure how long he holds you there, but it's long enough for him to be sure that you're going to miss your flight tomorrow, and long enough for him to be sure that no matter what this is, no matter what connects you, it's real.

And that's all he ever needed it to be.

"So you're not soulmates?" One of Max's mechanics ask, stood beside you infront of the monitor. You almost don't hear them with your headphones on, but the words have been said enough times to get the essence of it.

How could you possibly date someone who isn't supposed to be yours in the eyes of the universe? It was a hard thing to explain, that Max was your soulmate, but he had severed the bond, and you had repaired it anyway. You decided to keep all that from the world however, soulmarks tucked away to only be shared between the two of you. What the world didn't know wouldn't hurt them. "We don't have a soul bond, no."

"But don't you think about your soulmates?" The final laps approach, Max having a fair advantage as you watch his car whip around the track. "Finding someone better?"

"Better?" The best possible option was right here, shining in the night like he was meant to. You wouldn't lie and say that it didn't hurt, knowing that Max had purposefully tried to break the bond, but that didn't dampen your feelings for him. You were children back then, and he was hurting, and he thought this was the best way forward.

Maybe, if he had kept the soulmark, you'd have found each other somehow, in some way, but that's not the love story you needed. Your love story started on the streets of Monaco in the middle of the night, falling for a man for no other reason than he was Max, and he was yours, and it was perfect.

"Soulmates are not the be-all end-all. There is other love out there for us, and it's no better or worse." The only thing this could be was love, you think, soulmarks be damned. You believed, deep down, that something more than just coincidence connected you and Max, but what you had was built on a foundation of your own making, not the universe's. "Max is the best partner I could ask for, whether he was my soulmate or not."

The mechanic doesn't have time to question it further, because Max crosses the finish line, and your heart begins beating so fast that it has to be love. It was meant to be, even if at one point, it wasn't. You were meant to be here, and on that street with Max, and in his arms, and with his cats, and in each other's lives, and there was no explanation needed for why.

It was love, when you rushed down toward the parc ferme, past all the garages and the flashing lights, that you were here for him. The headlines hadn't known what to do with you, and Max hadn't bothered to indulge their rumours. You were his, and he was yours, and nothing would come between that.

Because you were soulmates.

It wasn't a fact you let yourself indulge in too often, considering what you had wasn't built on the assumption of loving someone, but the growth of learning how to do it.

But, once upon a time, you were soulmates, destined to be here, and it felt like something finally clicked into place as Max meets you at the barrier, helmet and sleeve ripped off to kiss you senseless, because this is what you built, together.

It was something real, no magical, mystical interference needed.

You were healing each other in the ways only you could, and as you pull away, you find yourself picturing the young Max, who went through so much torment to be here, to be with you. To think this wasn't an option was impossible. "I'm so proud of you." You say, the few words that you knew Max needed to hear.

That he was worth it, that he was loved, that there were other things in this world besides racing to devote yourself to. If you were somewhere more private, Max might let you know how he really feels about it, but instead, he gently cradles the back of your head as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I told you," He says softly, "You'll be the finish line for someone."

"Didn't realize you meant that literally." Sometime later, when the crowds disperse and the interviews stop and the night slows, you and Max drive away into the night for the hundredth time and end up back at the hotel, where a glimpse of his soulmark confirms your suspicions.

And, sometime later, after the room service gets delivered and the adrenaline of the day slows, you fall asleep on Max for the hundredth time, and as you shift in your sleep, he gets a glimpse of your soulmark as the shirt you'd stolen from him rides up on your chest.

Repaired, unscarred, and perfectly whole.

And, for the first time, in a long time,

Max starts to believe in soulmates again.

a/n: saw this request and tried to write something small and cute and ended up writing 7 thousand words of what it means to be loved - enjoy?

#➤ rex works #➤ mv1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 angst #formula one x reader #f1 imagines #reader insert #soulmates

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r4spb3rr13s · 11 months ago

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juicy couture + shinsou please !! love your blog 🎀💖

real or cap??

♱ shinsou x reader, fake dating stylez 🫢

♱ 1000 follower special ♱

♱ 2.2K words!

Hitoshi had so many other things he could be doing - studying for a class he actually took, for example. Instead, he sat stuffing his face with chips as you ranted at him about something called 'The Doppler Effect'.

This poor psych major's head was about to explode.

You faltered at the bewilderment on your friend's face and slumped down next to him with a groan. "I'm so fucked, 'toshi."

"You're notttt," He yawned. Hitoshi lifted his arms up to stretch, and you looked away quickly - ever since Mina pointed his happy trail you crumbled a little inside.

It was extremely distracting.

You cleared your throat, and pushed yourself up, snatching the bowl away from him.

"Hey!"

"'Scuse me?" You huff, "I need to eat too so I'm not drunk after two shots tonight."

Hitoshi froze. There was a pause. His voice came out meek, like a scared mouse.

"What."

You snorted at his blank face. His eyebags weren't as bad today, but they still cast a shadow on his pale face. The panic on his face made him look like a horror movie character at that moment.

"We're going out tonight? With Mina and Denki?"

Hitoshi's eyes widened, and let out a small 'fuck' under his breath. He desperately avoided your gaze, but still he shook his head in protest.

"Nope."

"Fuck you mean 'nope'?" You scoffed. It was a struggle getting Shinsou to come out with you all, but you knew he did actually enjoy everyone's company. His intense lack of energy balanced the other three of you surprisingly well.

He slumped back into the cushions and smothered himself in one of the pillows, groaning into it like a teenage girl. You chuckled at the adult baby and poked his shoulder. "You're coming. You even agreed on the group chat!"

"BUT I DON'T WANT TO-"

"TOO BAD."

:::

As Hitoshi stood at the entrance of 'The Three Boars' he'd never wanted to turn into a turtle and sink into his shell more.

You, on the other hand, stood beside him with a bright grin. And a very small outfit, he'd noted when he picked you up. He'd spent the Uber over gulping every time your skirt rode up and good god when you walked in front of him-

"Ready?"

He broke out of trance and looked at you. A frown crept on his face, but no real ill intent sat behind it because the smile on yours stopped it. He nodded.

Your hand brushed against his, and for some reason the hairs on the back of his neck stood attention. Your fingers reached out hesitantly, like you wanted to curl them into his palm and tug him along. But you didn’t.

Instead, you strode forward in front him and he found himself staring up, because he know if he didn’t, his eyes would find themselves glued to the backs of your thighs.

It was loud in the bar with music thrumming through the floor and people hollering at each other at the tops of their lungs. Two people managed to stand out in the crowd though - those two obviously being your two friends.

Mina and Denki are scream-laughing at strangers dancing, clearly already off their tits. Mina catches your eye and screams - the whole bar jumps at the shrill sound, but she pays no mind and hurtles towards you.

You laugh and hug her. "Y/n, I have a secret, c'mere," she mumbles. You stifle a laugh and lend her your ear. She cups her hand around your ear and... makes a fart noise.

Denki comes up behind up the two of you and cackles at the both of you. Shinsou can't help but let out a little snort at the sight. Seeing you smile would always make him the smile, anyways.

"Should we get drinks?" You ask. It's pointed at Shinsou, but Mina screeches 'yes' and drags you to the bar. You send a ‘sorry’ look at Hitoshi, and he just shrugs with a smile. You order your drinks and sit with Mina at the stools.

She's patting her hair back into place, eyes searching for the yellow-haired boy in the crowd. God knows where he's taken poor Shinsou.

You can see the look on her face - it's more obvious now she's drunk. Furrowed brows, jutted out lip and she's curled into herself a little bit more. "You still haven't told him?" You pry.

She jumps at your question and moves a pink curl from her eye. "No..."

"He's crazy about you," You sigh. The bartender puts your drinks down, you thank him, and take a sip- fuck, it's strong.

She raises a brow and rests her clumsy head against her hand. "Nahhhhh, he isn't."

"Yes, he is!"

"No, he isn't!"

"Mina-"

"Plus, can you even talk?"

That shuts you up, and your face twists in confusion. You let out a breathless laugh, "You're so drunk, dude-"

"Okayyy?" She says, an evil grin lighting up her dark eyes. "Hitoshi still has a big, fat crush on youuuuu," she sings. Her finger comes up and boops your nose, much to your dismay.

You waft her finger away and take a glance at the boy across the room. Both boys are sat down, Denki on some rant that includes waving his arms around like a car dealership blow-up. Your eyes drift to the purple haired boy.

He's sat back in his chair, his jacket off and arms straining at the short sleeves of his cotton shirt, and he does his signature stretch - the one that you 'hate' so much. Your eyes betray you, and your glancing down at the dark strip of hair leading to his belt-

"Jesus, just ask him out already. The whole room can feel you eye-fucking him, Y/n," Mina slurs. You snap your attention back to her with hot cheeks and shove her lightly. She's stuck between giggling at you and looking at something behind you.

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump out of your skin. You let out a small shout, and spin around. A tall guy looms over with a leering smile - it makes your skin crawl - and eyes drawing everywhere but your face.

He’s got dark, greasy hair and black eyes that look like pits into whatever ‘soul’ he has. There’s an air around him filled with arrogance, douchery, and frankly, danger.

"You single?" He drawls. He's uncomfortably close - nearly caging you in against the bar, with one hand on the counter behind you. The other hand is busy holding an empty pint of beer that you're thinking hasn't been his first.

Mina's watching the both of you with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You shake your head and laugh with anxiety. "I'm not interested, sorry," You mutter and slide off the stool.

Mina joins you and you're pushing through the crowd. She's in front of you, and you're nearly at the table, but there's a hand on your arm. It's holding tight.

A yelp leaves your lips but Mina's already through the crowd, probably at the table. You’re pulled back into the chest of the guy, and his face reeks of alcohol. A horrible grin spreads across yellow teeth and he flips his dark hair out of his face.

"I asked if you're single, so answer the question, sweetheart." He slurs, nose almost touching yours.

You tried to wrench your arm out of his grip, panic rising. The thrumming in your ears is getting louder, but your throat is so dry that nothing will come out. The few sips you had of your drink are making you foggy, but you know you need to move.

You managed to push some words out. "Listen, I just wanna sit with my friends-"

He presses himself against you, and your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest when he moves his mouth next to your ear. "Why can't we be friends?"

There’s a beat where you’re not really sure what happens, but something does.

You blink and you're free, a waft of air making you shiver for a second.

There's a back in front of you - a back you recognise immediately as Shinsou's, and his familiar smell of lavender and cedarwood fills your brain with the same feeling second-hand smoke from Denki’s blunts do.

The guy scoffs loudly and peers around Shinsou, gesturing at you with a pointed finger.

"She didn't fuckin' tell me she had a boyfriend! She was leadin' me on-"

Hitoshi let’s put a groan and puts his hands to his temples, “Shut the fuck up? Please?". He’s scowling, arms crossed, looming over Creep Mcgee. It's apparent he's a foot taller than the moron, the width of his shoulder making the two of them look like a comical before and after gym-plan ad.

If you hadn't been so shaken, you'd have laughed.

Instead, you found your hand subconsciously wrapping around Shinsou's bicep and glancing up at him. His gaze was steely and dark through narrowed eyes, and his tongue poked through his cheek.

The guy moved to say something again, but Shinsou shook his head. It was a warning, if anything.

Creep McGee just sighed and left, muttering things about you.

A few people had been watching, but they got bored and went back to their dancing and drinking. He looked down at you and his face softened, clenched jaw turning into a small smile on his lips.

"You okay?"

You nodded and tightened your grip on his arm. Your legs were shaking a bit, but you were alive so you couldn't complain.

He gave you a once-over and took your hand off his arm, holding it instead in his own. He looked at it for a second, and Mina's earlier words flashed in your mind.

"Hitoshi still has a big, fat crush on youuuuuu."

The memory made your face go hot again. Shinsou huffed, and started leading you to the door.

"No- I don't want to ruin it, I wanna stay for a bit-"

Hitoshi let out a chuckle in front of you and looked back with a smile you thought you'd swoon over. "We're jus' gettin' you some air, kay?"

His voice was soft and warm and felt like a million hugs and lit you on fire. You nodded obediently and let him lead you outside to sit on the curb a few steps from the door.

You sat clumsily, tugging your skirt down while Shinsou shook his head at you.

"Why do you even wear that stuff? It's always stressful for you," He asked as you finally sat next to him.

"'Cus it's cute? What, do I look bad?" You asked with a cheeky smile, nudging him.

He went quiet for a minute and looked out into the street, eyes following the passing cars. "Nah. You look beautiful." He admitted quietly.

Your heart jumps into your throat at his words. Your hair stands on end, and you feel like you've been electrocuted by Denki with the tingles and shivers flying across your skin.

You turn into Mina for a minute, and open-an-close your mouth like a fish. "...Thanks, boyfriend."

Hitoshi snorts and pushes your shoulder with a teasing smile. "Yeah, you wish, Y/n."

"Yeah, I do," you reply without a beat. You don't even realise what you've said before Shinsou turns to you with wide eyes.

Your hands fly up to smack your mouth in panic. What the fuck? Why would you say that! Y/n, for fuck's sake-

But a grin breaks out on his face, lighting up his violet eyes and they shine in the lamppost's light above him. Fuck, he looks like an angel with the white light halo-ing him, outlining his silhouette like a movie screenshot.

"Yeah?" He asks, and his voice has lowered a bit. His teasing tone is gone, and there's something different, you've never heard before - it's electrifying.

Hitoshi's inched forwards, and his eyes are flitting from your eyes to your bitten lips, making your body shake in anticipation. You know you're doing the same, watching his gaze on you darken and his lips form a shit-eating smirk he'll use to annoy you later.

But you don't give a fuck, because you nod.

He moves fluidly, hand snaking up to cup your neck, half in your hair, and rush you towards his lips. A muttered 'fuck' leaves his mouth before he kisses you, and it's everything you've ever imagined.

He tastes like tobacco - a habit he pretends he doesn't indulge in - and minty gum, making your head spin more than it already is. He's soft, moving with your mouth slowly and taking you in.

Your hand rests on his chest, and you can feel his heart hammer at an unhealthy rate. Air is rushing out of you, so you force yourself to separate from Hitoshi. It’s reluctant, and you wish you could spend all your time against the soft pillows that are his lips, but unfortunately you require oxygen to survive. A cruel reality.

You're both panting into the cold air, staring at each other. A little giggle escapes you, and Hitoshi laughs, and then you both end up in a fit of laughter with your hands still cradling the other.

"Boyfriend?" Hitoshi asks contemplatively, pretending to think it over. You snort and hit him on the chest.

"Take me out on a date, first, pushy."

He grins and pecks your nose, hand still cradling the back of your neck. "I guess I'll have to, then."

"Well, in that case... can you go get me another drink? I left mine on the bar-"

"Good God, Y/n."

taglist: @todoslutbyheart @aespie @itzlittlemissperfect @im-so-tired-sorry @mangalovesanime-blog @livingmydreamlife5555

#{ 1000 special }#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #shinsou #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou fluff #shinsou x reader fluff #bnha x reader fluff #bnha fake dating

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solxamber · 5 months ago

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On my hands and knees sobbing throwing up combusting into dust signs my soul away to you THAT WAS SO SO SOOOOO CUTEEEEEE GUAYAYYAYYUUUUUAUAGAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Poor Rollo thinks hes just being nice meanwhile poor yuu is so used to people digging underneath the bar that he's literally prince charming incarnate. Rollo clearly needs to adjust their standards and do what the villains could not by kissing yuu softly while they take a nap. And also threaten crowley to give them money for food. ANYWAYS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FEEDING ME AND THE 5 OTHER ROLLO FANS THAT SURVIVED THE FAMINE (/j) I OWE YOU MY LIFE!!!!! This message is getting so long, but you deserve to know how awesome your writing is and that I look forward to whatever you post for real. I slide over a crisp 5 maddol and ask for when you feel like it (and if you even want to ofc!!) A part 3 where maybe they're deeper in the relationship and are doing heinous things like m*king out and grimm thinks they should be executed for making him walk into this horror. (He didn't knock. Bc he's grimm. He claimed to be scarred for life until Rollo busted out the premium tuna suddenly we should get married asap) . ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONG RAMBLE. IM BARKING AND CRYING AND EXPLODING AND PROPOSING TO YOU. Signed with love, rollo anon 💗💝💖

Rollo Flamme x reader

i just saw this and this almost made me cry 🫶 also sorry for the very long wait

Part 1 ; Part 2

Rollo was nothing if not diligent. Whether it was reorganizing the shelves at the library, fixing the perpetually squeaky door in Ramshackle, or chastising Grim for yet another snack-induced fire hazard, he was always helping in his quietly intense way. It wasn’t just duty—he genuinely seemed to enjoy making your life easier, which both baffled and warmed you to your core.

You, of course, did what you could to return the favor. Helping him clean up after unruly magic festival events, proofreading his endless notes about anti-magic policies, and gently reminding him to relax when he got that telltale furrow in his brow.

And you were in love.

Like, grossly in love. The kind of love where you found his huffy rants about magical irresponsibility charming and he tolerated Grim's chaos just to spend more time with you. It was a weird, wonderful balance you’d somehow managed to strike.

Which led to this particular evening: you and Rollo, tangled on the old, creaky couch in your room at Ramshackle.

It had started innocently enough. You’d been reviewing a new book he'd brought for you—something philosophical, of course, but he’d chosen it specifically because he thought you’d enjoy it. You were teasing him about his insistence on leaving a handwritten note inside the front cover (“Who even does this, Rollo? It’s adorable, but—seriously?”), and he had flushed in that way that made you want to pinch his cheeks.

Then one thing led to another.

Now, his lips were on yours, one hand cradling your face with the kind of reverence that made your heart twist. His other arm was around your waist, anchoring you against him. Rollo might not have been an experienced romantic, but he made up for it in sheer, focused intensity. When he kissed you, it felt like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“You’re—mmph—very distracting,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

You grinned, tugging him closer. “Says the guy who started this.”

His only response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, until your brain was reduced to a pleasant, fizzy blur. The world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you, him, and the creak of the couch as you shifted closer—

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY?! MY EYES! THEY’RE RUINED!”

Grim’s shrill scream shattered the moment like glass.

You froze, pulling back to see Grim standing in the doorway, paws dramatically covering his eyes. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? ON MY COUCH?”

“Grim, it’s my couch,” you said, face burning.

“You’re the henchhuman; it’s ours by default!” Grim wailed. “And now it’s a place of SIN!”

Rollo, to his credit, had already straightened up, his expression transitioning from flustered to composed in record time. “Grim,” he said, voice calm yet firm, “surely you’ve barged in enough times to anticipate that privacy should be respected.”

“Oh, I respected it,” Grim sniffed. “But my henchhuman clearly has no shame. And you!” He pointed an accusatory paw at Rollo. “I thought you were better than this! But no, you’re—”

Rollo, completely unbothered by the tirade, reached into his bag and produced a can of… premium tuna?

Grim’s rant ground to a halt. His ears perked up as he sniffed the air. “Wait. Is that—?”

“Indeed,” Rollo said smoothly, holding it up like a peace offering. “A gift I intended to give later, but it seems circumstances call for a different approach.”

Grim’s eyes lit up with unrestrained glee. “You know what? I’ve never doubted you for a second, Rollo!” He scurried forward, practically salivating as he swiped the can. “You’re clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to my henchhuman. You two should get married. Tomorrow. I’ll get a priest. I’m sure Crowley owes me a favor.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Grim popped the can open with zero regard for decorum. “Grim, you are the worst.”

“Correction: I’m the best,” Grim said, already devouring the tuna with gusto. Between bites, he added, “This guy’s a keeper. Don’t mess it up, henchhuman.”

Rollo’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. He leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Shall we take his advice?”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing despite yourself. “Not helping, Rollo.”

But deep down, as Grim devoured his bribe and Rollo sat beside you with that quietly pleased look, you couldn’t deny that the idea didn’t sound all that bad.

The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to you, and you’d collapsed onto your bed with a sigh of relief. “Wake me up for class, okay?” you mumbled to Rollo, who was sitting at your desk, meticulously organizing the scattered notes you’d left behind.

“I’ll make sure you’re on time,” he replied, his voice carrying that steady assurance you found oddly comforting.

You barely managed a hum of acknowledgment before sleep claimed you, leaving the world behind in a haze of warm, peaceful quiet.

When you stirred again, it wasn’t the sound of your alarm or the creak of the floorboards that woke you. It was something far gentler.

A warm, featherlight pressure on your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and the first thing you saw was Rollo leaning over you, his expression soft in a way that made your heart do an Olympic-level somersault. He was close enough that you could see the slight flush on his cheeks, though his composure never wavered.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “It’s time to get ready for class.”

You blinked at him, your still-sleepy brain struggling to process what had just happened. “Did you… just kiss me awake?”

His blush deepened, but he stood his ground, meeting your gaze with quiet confidence. “You looked so peaceful. I thought it would be a more pleasant way to wake you than simply shaking your shoulder.”

Your heart melted on the spot. If there was a scale for romantic gestures, this one had just broken it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, though your voice betrayed how utterly smitten you were.

“Perhaps,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

You didn’t bother arguing because he was absolutely right. Instead, you reached out, tugging him down for a proper kiss this time.

When you finally pulled away, you smirked at his flustered expression. “If you keep this up, I’m going to start napping more often.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to be even more diligent about ensuring you don’t oversleep.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest as you sat up and stretched. “Thanks for waking me, Rollo. Really.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone earnest as ever. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man was going to ruin you with how thoughtful he was. And as you got ready for class with a lingering smile on your face, you couldn’t help but think that waking up like this every day wouldn’t be so bad.

It started with something simple. You were both sitting in the courtyard of the chapel, enjoying a quiet moment together. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and Rollo was, as usual, the picture of composure. He was reading a book—some historical text you’d never have the patience for—but his attention drifted when he noticed you staring at the horizon, lost in thought.

“Are you cold?” he asked, setting his book aside and leaning slightly closer.

You blinked out of your reverie, shaking your head with a soft smile. “No, I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his neck and gently draped it over your shoulders anyway. “Just in case,” he murmured.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a scarf—but the gesture made your heart swell. The scarf smelled faintly of lavender, and the warmth of it felt like an extension of Rollo himself.

“Thanks, Rollo,” you said, voice soft.

He nodded, but when he saw the way your smile lingered, something shifted in his expression. His usual composed demeanor softened into something… almost reverent.

“You deserve this,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically tender.

“Huh?” You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You deserve to be cared for,” he clarified, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You give so much of yourself to others. It’s only natural that someone should do the same for you.”

You stared at him, heart racing. “Rollo, I… That’s really sweet.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though not at you. “It’s concerning that such basic decency stands out to you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What kind of environment is this school fostering?”

The thought of Rollo, grimacing at the thought of NRC’s questionable population, made you burst into laughter. “I mean, you’ve met Grim, right? The standards here are subterranean.”

Rollo’s expression softened again when he saw how amused you were. “Even so,” he said, taking your hands in his with surprising gentleness, “you should never feel as though you’re asking for too much when you expect kindness or respect. It’s what you’re owed.”

Your heart did a little somersault, and you couldn’t help but giggle, ridiculously touched. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry,” you teased, though the slight quiver in your voice betrayed how close you were to actually tearing up.

He smiled faintly, leaning closer until his forehead nearly touched yours. “If you cry, I’ll simply have to dry your tears,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Though I’d rather see you smiling.”

You let out another helpless laugh, pulling your hands free so you could lightly swat at his arm. “Stop being so romantic! I can’t handle this!”

Rollo chuckled softly, pleased with your reaction. “If it makes you happy, then I’ll consider it a worthwhile effort.”

And he meant it. He was genuinely, utterly content to see you so touched, so happy. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet but fierce determination grew. The villains and miscreants of NRC may not have treated you with the respect you deserved, but he would make it his mission to ensure you never doubted your worth again.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twst rollo x reader #rollo x reader #rollo x you #rollo flamme #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamme x you #rollo

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fairyhaos · 9 months ago

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how seventeen act with their bookworm s/o

requested by my dearest 🍒 anon!

masterlist

seungcheol

just. buys you everything you want. bookmarks, books, book signing tickets, bookshelves, hell he'll even build you your own library to house your books if that's what you want. he'd buy u anything you want anyway tbh, but he knows how much you love reading so his gift-giving tendencies have shifted towards the side of fully letting you indulge in your hobbies. what can he say? he likes seeing you happy.

jeonghan

sometimes he'll just sit there and watch you read bc he thinks that you're just really cute. likes to watch all the different facial expressions you make whilst you're reading through different passages, and laughs when you give horrified gasps whenever the characters make terrible choices. gets bored whilst listening to you explain the plot, but Loves when you explain the drama to him like you're teenage girls gossiping over the latest drama

joshua

doesn't know how you have the time or patience to just sit there reading words for hours, but he supports your hobby for sure. sometimes when you're feeling down, he'll take you to the nearest bookstore and buys every single book you so much as hint at having an interest in. buys you handbags that are big enough for books to fit inside so when you two go out with others, you can bring ur emotional support book for when things get too boring 🫡

junhui

goes “ooh what are u reading???” when he catches you holding a new book. you tell him the title and the genre, but as soon as you begin explaining the plot, his eyes are glazing over and he's already clocked out of the conversation. he tries his best to listen, he really does!!! but he supposes it just isn't for him :(( watches the movie adaptations w you if there is one tho and let's you rant about the deviations the directors made from the novel

hoshi

gets insanelyyyy jealous when you find a new fictional character to fixate and fawn over bc like, hello???? your boyfriend is literally right here????? why are you crying over some character that doesn't exist????? but then you argue that you put up with his tiger agenda so he can at least put up with this. doesn't like reading the books, but loves you explaining it aloud to him, hand gestures and all. he thinks it's really cute.

wonwoo

entertains all your theories about the lore and character backstories of the novels you've been reading lately. you could look like that one guy in the corkboard meme with the red string and he'll just smile indulgently and ask you to tell him more. he's bought you about 70% of all the books you own, and he's not stopping any time soon. he'll stop when you run out of books to read, probably. and by the looks of it, that's not happening any time soon.

woozi

absolutely loves all those fantasy/ dystopian kinds of books the most. at first he was like “:// no thanks i have work” when you first asked him to read some books but now he likes reading them in his free time bc he gets to discuss lore with you in the evenings. likes watching the movie adaptations if they exist, bc then you both get to either applaud the accurate adaptation or complain loudly at the horrible inaccuracies that distort the plot beyond repair

minghao

forces you to take rest breaks every now and then when you're going on a whole reading binge bc it is Not good for your eyesight okay and he worries about you >:((( brews theeee best tea of all time for u and he'll sit down next to you in bed with his own book as you both read throughout the rest of the day. those are the best kinds of days, tbh. nothing gets better than sitting next to the person you love most and doing the thing you love most too

mingyu

he's the type to watch you with soppy eyes as you're reading your book beside him in bed. raises an eyebrow at you fondly when you finally finished, the “how was it?” clear in his eyes, and he just laughs delightedly when you simply explode with all the pent-up emotions as you rant to him about the ending and all the drama and tension that went on in the lead-up to it. loves that you're so passionate about your books. thinks it's super endearing.

dokyeom

asks for book recs every. single. month. then adds them to his list before promptly forgetting about them and asks for recs again. thinks that everything you read sounds like theee most interesting thing in the world which is why he's always asking for the titles, but he's just always so busy you know?? he did somehow actually read ‘the song of achilles’ bc of your rec, however, and cried over it for 2 days straight

seungkwan

likes to have, like. a mini book club between the two of you where you both read the same book bc then he gets to fully understand your rants and also bc he actually gets kind of invested??? his favourite genres are those modern slice-of-life ones bc then he gets to trash talk with you about all the bad decisions the characters are making in their lives

vernon

you read books, he plays games. the both of you can sit together in complete silence and be utterly content, and the arrangement works for you both. (seungkwan thinks you guys are crazy for just being able to sit there with your respective hobbies and Not Talk.) he bought you a kindle for christmas which turned out to be the best present ever bc now you never go anywhere without it. you thank him for it at least 3 times a day.

chan

thinks your love of books is one of your biggest charms. he met you on the train where he made the mistake of asking what book you were reading and ended up sitting through a 25 minute explanation and missing his stop, but it was okay bc he liked hearing you talk and ended the day with your number in his phone, so he counted it as a win. definitely a win in his opinion bc now he gets to listen to your book explanations as your boyfriend <3

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reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bananabubble

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x1ng0 · 3 months ago

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BEAST YEAST 8 ISNT REAL GUYS OLEASE TELL ME ITS NOT

i haven’t cried over a fictional character MY WHOLEVLIFE but when THIS mother fujcker comes along i’m in SHAMBLES

beast yeast 8 spoilers below ///

I FUCKING CANT WITH YOU SHADOW MILK OH MY COD HE UNDERSTANDS YOU PLEASE DONT GO INTO DENIAL PLEEAASSEEEEE

also can we talk about THE SPRITES??? OH MY COD?????? they put SO much effort into this episode it’s truely iconic

aalso i was tweaking out when when these scenes came on like OH MY COD?????

LIKE NO PLEASE THRN BACK TO TRUTHLESSRECLUSE I WAS SO HAPPD NO PLEASE NO

anyways i’m going to finish my crashout rant with this because this made me laughf

i’m going to explod

#crk #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk #shadow milk crk #pure vanilla crk #puremilk #pureshadow #shadownilla #shadowvanilla #i’m ending it. OH MY COD NOOOOOO I CANT.#shadow milk x pure vanilla #pure vanilla x shadow milk

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saintagron · 19 days ago

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just saw ur modern cait headcannons!! love them sm, would you be willing to do modern jinx/alt au powder headcannons?

modern jinx headcanons !

no warnings (i think lemme know if i'm wrong) it's late so these are slightly incoherent !!

✶. an absolute academic powerhouse, though she doesn't seem it. double majors in art and mechanical engineering. shows up five minutes before exams looking like a party exploded over her—eyelids still stained with glitter from the night before, accenting her almost purple dark circles—and absolutely destroys the curve, etc etc.

✶. don't remember where i first saw this but she would skateboard everywhere. it's always strapped to her backpack, spraypainted with a chaotic masterpiece and outfitted with custom grip tape. instead of the library she goes to the skatepark, hanging out on the top of the ramps and dual-wielding a paintbrush and a calculator. skates there on the weekend, does a couple competitions, but never gets too too into it. she totally did a bunch of the art as well, the walls covered with pink and blue and purple.

✶. would worship the ground you walked on if you were her regular barista. would refuse to take her coffee from anyone else. even if she just takes it black that day (which is how you know her professors are on her ass) she claims you make it better. tips in doodles and drawings, usually of you that she scrawled while she was sitting there.

✶. being roommates with her would be hell, there's no need to sugarcoat it. sure, she keeps her mess on your side of the room, but she's always awake. you can always hear her too-loud music through her headphones. that's why you like painting nights the best—she doesn't listen to the same blasting music, especially when she's doing a still-life. instead, the sweeping of the brush against the canvas and the rain sounds she plays low lull you better than your own meditation music.

...and then being her roommate turns into being her overseer. she'll be ready to fight a guy at a party, one hand ready to claw while the other instinctively guards in front of the girl behind her and they'll be yelling at you to get your girlfriend, man! so then you have to drag her out of there, get the girl she was defending a car, and then spend the next thirty minutes holed up in the bathroom 'fixing her makeup' (letting her rant out all her anger.)

sometimes you let her beat the shit out of them. as a treat. they're frat bros, it's not like they don't kick each others' asses on the regular.

despite that, it's actually pretty... nice. she'll be stressing about an assignment that's not due for another two weeks, head between her hands and staring through the shitty wood of her desk. you'll make a irritated noise, open up your blankets because really, it's too late (or early in the morning, sometimes) to deal with this and she'll melt over you like marshmallow—sticky and warm and sweet—and smelling like it, too.

✶. anyways... i know i'd expect her to be an absolute shit cook, burnt water and charred toast type of person. but once you both finally have access to a kitchen she's in there daily. presenting you meals as beautiful as her paintings, greens placed elegantly on top of sauce-soaked meat, muffins topped with crumble and full of fat blueberries that pop in your mouth, whatever you can think of. works the kitchen like she's made to be there, somehow a perfect multitasker. she has a bit of a sense for it—the perfect time where it's between undercooked and charring, how much to whip it, how to modify the recipes. you joke that she's not allowed to be good at everything if only to see her sharp-toothed, pleased smile.

i could see her as a meal-prep type of person. she knows she'll be too tired to cook during the week so she'll stock up on meals during the weekend. she's grateful for her forethought every time she stumbles in after a lecture runs late, knowing all she has to do is microwave whatever she left out to defrost.

✶. recreational weed user! usually once a month when her and ekko's schedules finally line up. taking the day to smoke, curling like cats at an open window and passing a blunt (or five...) back and forth. orders a shit ton of takeout and always brings some home to you, so you can't complain.

with you i could definitely see her as more of an edible person. she just loves to be able to pop a gummy and settle into bed, becoming increasingly incoherent watching whatever vine compilation you put on your laptop. looking at you with huge, blown-out pupils and giggling whenever you meet her gaze. total goofball, and it rubs off on you until your ribs ache from laughing and you're too tired to do anything more than lay all over each other.

#⟡ saint's.#headcanons.#jinx #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x you #jinx x y/n #jinx arcane x reader #jinx arcane x you #jinx arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #arcane

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dontmixpaintinyourcoffee · 9 months ago

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OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOODDDD THE NEW TGS PAGE IS MAKING MY BRAIN GO SO FAST I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!

First off, I love how violent it is. Obviously it's tonally appropriate, but it also seems like a logical escalation from the other instances of the transformation we've seen. I'm gonna rant about it for a minute so body horror warning I guess? I don't know what other category a guy vomiting green science goop would fall into.

Exhibit A:

From the very first change, it's always been very intense.

He describes it as deeply unpleasant and painful, because his bones are literally changing, and by the end of it he's fallen to the floor.

Pretty expected for your first time through an extremely physically traumatic event. But he never seems to get used to it.

Exhibit B:

This transformation takes place two years after the first one. I'm sure a lot of this is the way it is because this moment is very dramatic and it needs to land that way, but the in-world logic is far more interesting to me. His dropping the flask and collapsing implies that even after this whole thing has become routine, his body still isn't used to it. Obviously your bones changing on a dime is never gonna be easy to go through, but even after two years there seems to be almost no acclimation. He probably can't even accurately predict when the pain will start, otherwise he would've set the flask down earlier.

But both of these transformations seem somewhat predictable. It starts inside of his mouth and eyes and spills out, working from the inside outward. My guess is that that is the stabilizing effect of the portion. Because once he starts to transform without it as a catalyst...

Exhibits C, D, and E:

The process starts to break down. It starts the same way it always did, but by the third or fourth switch he starts producing a lot more science goop (Goop? Slime? Bile? Some kinda.... Green shit. What the fuck is this shit), but with less physical change. It starts getting onto his clothes, and it seems a lot more all- encompassing than it did before. Early on the goop seems incidental. The goop and the pain are both byproducts of the potion. But at this point he's practically choking on the stuff, it's not just an ambient effect, it's something being violently purged from his system. Until we get to this point- the first self-inflicted shift without the use of the potion.

Exhibit F:

It's completely out of control. Not only is it full-force Exorcist style exploding from his mouth, it looks like it's coming out of his skin. These two panels, to me, imply that the stuff is sweating out of his skin in quantities that are heavy enough to soak through his hair. His expression can be interpreted a few different ways- general agony, screaming, ect. - but when I imagine what this scene would sound like I think there's too much blockage for him to be screaming. The way he folds over, his wide eyes, the amount of goop, I'm willing to bet that his expression is him desperately trying to breathe.

Anyways. I genuinely love this stuff. This is exactly my type of horror. The kind that doesn't seem like straight up horror until you give it a bit of thought. Chef's kiss. Delicious. Finally some good fucking food

#tgs #the glass scientists #tgs hyde #tgs jekyll #rambling #God i love this comic

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goquokka00 · 5 months ago

Text

Adore You

Summary: A difficult work situation leaves you feeling beyond upset and worthless. Luckily for you, you have a boyfriend who wants to help make you feel all better, and prove to you that you are truly perfect in every way, shape, and form.

Pairing: Hyunjin X Reader (F!)

Genre: Smut, Fluff (Pretty much based off of something that literally just happened to me and so a feel good too so I can try not to explode or go into an anxiety attack)

Warnings: Body worship, tit play, praise, oral sex (f! receiving), premature orgasm, Hyunjin being an extremely loving boyfriend (like honestly give me someone like this please I beg of you-), 100% 18+ (seriously like if you're a minor don't read pls and thank you <3)

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Y'all I'm so sorry for not updating in a HOT minute, I have been so severely unmotivated, it isn't even funny. I'm hoping to get some new stuff out soon though, we'll see how it goes. For now, I really hope you enjoy this one :)

You didn't know how much more of this you could handle.

Fact of the matter? Your boss sucked major ass. Not necessarily, he just managed to make you mad. And for good reasons, too. Today's trigger was particularly off putting.

See, he had just called you, saying that there was a bit of confusion with your availability. And since he had asked you for had been making you decide to change it to what he had been making you work. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, all of which were scheduled at different times for different reasons.

That was NOT your original availability. When you had been hired, you had claimed that you'd be able to work Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Sunday. No matter what, you couldn't work Saturdays. But that wasn't honored, ever. And he never scheduled you to work Sundays.

But when you told him your new availability? Oh, he was beyond pissed. He said that when he hired you, he had said that he needed you available on Sundays, and that you had said you could work on the Sundays anyway.

So what did you do? You calmly explained to him that you remembered saying that, but from what you had seen in the scheduling patterns, 1, he was always giving you Sundays off. 2, he was dishonoring your original availability because he was making you work Saturdays.

All he said in return? You two were going to talk and figure it out tomorrow during the shift you both worked together, and that you had to make a new availability while he looked for someone to offset your schedule. Great.

The second you finished that call, you immediately set your phone down and went to the living room, where your soothing remedy and amazing boyfriend sat. You were so thankful to Hyunjin, since he put up with your bullshit and rants all the time.

Now was one of those times. And he could tell just from how you laid your head on his lap, put your hoodie sleeve covered hands over your face, and screamed. It was muffled by the sleeves of the hoodie on your body, but Hyunjin knew that scream all too well. You were frustrated. And more than likely, it had to do with work.

"What happened, beautiful?" He was so calm when he asked the question, not even bothering to look away from the sketch he was working on, rather bringing a hand down to gently scratch the top of your head. And oh, did that feel good.

"My boss happened, that's what." Your tone said it all. You didn't mind your boss, he was okay. But he did make you mad. Most of the time he made you mad.

"And what did he do to make him the 'happened'?"

And off you went. Hyunjin had pulled the trigger, which sent you off on a half hour rant, going on and on about how your boss gave you crap for an availability he didn't even stick to. You told him how you were now even questioning your availability, and how you didn't know if it was smart to keep the one you had or if you changed it again.

And the entire time, Hyunjin listened, continuing to scratch your head, humming along to let you know that he was listening, hell, he even let you lean up against him, an arm going around your waist to keep you steady. And once you had quieted down, Hyunjin spoke again.

"Did you get it all out of your system?"

"Mhm..."

"Do you want my opinion?"

"Mmn..." It was a very unsure noise. If you were being honest with yourself, his input would be greatly appreciated. But you already knew what he was going to say if he did speak. Essentially, it was gonna be that it was out of your control, and that he had to cater to you. Thankfully, Hyunjin didn't wait for you to make up your mind.

He usually didn't.

"I'm gonna say it anyway." Hyunjin's voice was soft as he spoke, his eyes finally leaving his artwork to look into yours. "You told him your new availability, and how your availability beforehand wasn't respected. You've done all you can. And if your boss wants to throw a fit about it, and not respect your wishes and what you want, then he can put his big boy pants on, suck it up, and deal with that. Either that, or he can get his cock sucked sideways with sandpaper."

His comment made you laugh a bit, your head going and resting on his shoulder.

"Don't you think that was a little harsh, Hyunnie?"

"For what you've had to put up with? I think I'm being nice."

You both smiled, Hyunjin looking back to his art and continuing to work on it, while you just rested against him. It was silent for a bit, until you spoke up again after you let out a sigh.

"I just...He makes me feel like I'm just a body at his disposal sometimes." That got Hyunjin's attention. He stopped, glancing back at you for a second, a brow raised.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know I only work shifts that my boss needs covered. I'm just kinda there at his disposal." You let out another sigh, running a hand through your hair as you pushed yourself off of Hyunjin. "It makes me feel like that's all I'm really good for. I'm just at someone's disposal. An extra body."

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there." Hyunjin immediately set his things down, moving to place his hands on your cheeks. "You're so much more than that. You're beautiful, and you work damn hard. I don't even work as hard as you do. He probably gives you those shifts because he knows you can handle it."

"But it doesn't feel like that."

"It doesn't matter what it feels like. You're absolutely incredible. You not only work hard, but you work hard at home. You do chores, you somehow manage to handle me. Me! Not even Chan can do that sometimes!"

You only sighed at his words, looking away from him. But it didn't fly with Hyunjin. That was for damn sure.

"Hey, no. Eyes on mine, baby." His voice was stern as he directed your eyes to his, holding your chin with his fingers. And when he saw the doubt in your eyes, he didn't even hesitate to press his lips to yours.

It was like you were transported from your reality into a whole other world. It always happened when Hyunjin kissed you like this. He did things to you that nobody else could. And he knew that. And when he pulled away, he kept his forehead on yours, his voice soft. It barely even came out, just above a whisper.

"Let me show you how incredible you are, baby." As he spoke, his hands traveled up your body, going up your sides and back, slowly guiding you closer to him. And all you could do was nod, your voice barely coming out as well.

"Yes..." Hyunjin didn't even hesitate, rushing to take your lips with his again. But this time, it wasn't gentle like before. No, it was much more passionate. He communicated everything in the kiss that he couldn't communicate with words. And you understood everything.

It didn't take that long for Hyunjin to readjust the two of you, laying you back on the couch as his lips went to your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses in his wake. One of his hands held your side, the other slipping into your hoodie and going up your stomach, cupping one of your breasts.

"Hyunjin..." You breathed, your back arching. You didn't have a bra on, and so his hand was on your skin. And neither of you minded. Hyunjin only smiled against your skin, before backing off and pushing your hoodie over your head, admiring your body.

"So perfect...and it's all mine..." Hyunjin murmured. He sat back, looking over every detail as if he was seeing it for the first time.

It wasn't the first time he's seen you; he's drawn your nude body, he's made love to you countless times. But he always loved to take in the view in front of him, especially now, as his hands traveled your body, going over your stomach, running over your breasts. He loved watching you react to his touch, how you squirmed or whined or moaned.

"I wish you could see just how beautiful you are...how much of a goddess you are. You're my goddess, baby." Hyunjin slowly went down, pressing kisses to the base of your neck, trailing them to your collarbone, going down, down, until he reached your breasts. He groped each, watching how they morphed to his hands.

"Hyunnie..." You didn't even know what to say. You've made love before with him. But he's never taken this much time with you. "Baby, please..."

"Shh...let me worship you. You deserve to be worshiped." Hyunjin looked to you, not breaking eye contact as he put one of your nipples into his mouth. You immediately took a sharp breath of air, the exhale shaky. Your hands went to cradle his head, your hips grinding up against his stomach.

He made sure to pay attention to each breast. His tongue teased your nipples, his teeth gently nipping at each. He'd suck for a moment, but mostly licked at them, all while his hands massaged each breast, really taking time to appreciate each. The entire time, you watched, your face flushed as he worked.

And when he deemed that your chest had been given enough attention, he placed several kisses onto each breast, before letting out a sigh, his body still not wanting to leave them just yet.

"God, your chest is so fucking perfect, beautiful...your nipples are so cute when they get perky like this." A smile appeared on Hyunjin's face as he looked to you, placing a kiss to your sternum.

"Hyunjin, they're not--"

"No. None of that. I think that your chest is beautiful. And I'm the only one who sees them, right?"

"...yeah..."

"Then why does it matter what other people think?" Hyunjin placed more kisses down your sternum, going to your stomach as his hands grabbed the waistband of your sleep shorts, hooking his fingers into them and slowly pulling them down. "They're perfect. You're perfect. You always have been."

That shut you up. A chill went down your spine, your heart racing. Hyunjin was being so sweet. No...he was being a loving boyfriend. This...this was love. Just when you thought you'd experienced it before...you realize you never have.

Hyunjin slowly pulled your shorts and panties off as you went silent, before taking his shirt off, leaving him in his sweatpants, which had a very obvious outline in them. But he ignored it, spreading your legs to look at your soaked pussy. And in that moment, Hyunjin could've sworn that he could stop breathing right then and there.

"God fucking damn, baby..." His eyes were wide, locked on your pussy. It made you blush. He's never stared at you like that before. Well, he has.

Just not that intensely.

He moved down to your cunt, laying down as he put your legs on his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you closer to him. He was in absolute awe. Even close up, it was gorgeous. You were gorgeous.

"Your pussy's so pretty...so fucking pretty and pink and...and just...wow..." He just couldn't look away. And you couldn't find words. You were at a complete and total loss of them.

It didn't take very long for Hyunjin to finally look up at you. And once he did, his mouth opened, only to close around your clit, his tongue gently tapping the sensitive bud as he sucked gently.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

"Hyu-Hyunjin!" Your back arched as you moaned out, your legs shaking a bit as your boyfriend hummed, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he tasted some of your juices that landed on his tongue. You knew he loved your taste. And you could tell that he was savoring it this time.

His tongue went from tapping your clit to flicking it, occasionally leaving his mouth to give long swipes, before he stopped sucking and just focused on rubbing his tongue right under your clit, making you squirm and whine. Hyunjin hummed at your reaction, pushing his head forward more before changing it up again.

He moved his tongue in tight figure eights right against your clit, opening his mouth as he panted against your pussy, spit dripping down into your entrance, all while you leaked for him.

"Oh my fucking god...baby..." You wheezed out, grabbing at Hyunjin's hair. You didn't miss the way he groaned as you did so, or how his hips bucked into the sofa as you moaned out to him, your own hips bucking into his face. "I-I...I'm getting close..."

Hyunjin hummed in response to you, his tongue getting more eager as he opened his eyes, looking right into yours. And oh, his eyes...They were so glossed over, showing just how drunk he was on your taste. On your pussy.

On you.

You don't know if that was what pushed you over the edge, or if it was the fact that his tongue was just doing absolute wonders for stimulation. Either way, you came, crying out pathetically as your body shuddered. All the while, Hyunjin moaned with you, holding you close to his face as you hit your orgasm hard.

Your thighs tried their best to close, and they would've had it not been for Hyunjin holding them open, his mouth latching back around your clit as he tried to help you calm down. You panted, small muscles in your thighs twitching as your pussy clenched.

Hyunjin pulled away, giving your pussy one last lick and kiss, before smiling up at you. He was satisfied, that much was obvious.

"So, do you believe me?" He asked, waiting for your answer.

"Ye-Yeah...shit...wow..." You breathed, resting your head back against the couch. But then, you looked to Hyunjin, a raised brow. "So, uh...are we fucking now?"

"Ah...about that..." Hyunjin let out a small laugh, before looking down and rolling to his side to just double check that he was absolutely sure that what happened, well...happened. And once he confirmed it, he looked back to you, a sheepish smile appeared on his face. "I uh...I already came."

"Wait, really?" You blinked, shocked as Hyunjin moved up to you, pressing a kiss to your lips as he hummed.

"Yep. You're just too sexy, baby." Hyunjin smiled, pressing his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. "Don't worry though, I promise I'm perfectly content. I got to worship my girl."

"And I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat."

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @miss-daisy04 @kayleefriedchicken @wolfs-archive @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @wolfs-howling @rose-w-00-d

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