#i had to pick one each from like the media i watch

[willowsnook]

an experiment (18+)

hey, could you write a story like the one you reposted of max ”popular“ but for lando? I absolutely loved the plot and never saw one like that before, but don’t feel pressured! thank you<3

A/N: Didn’t want to do the exact same plot but did the same kind of reporter x Lando vibe where they don’t like each other.

Lando Norris x Reporter!Reader

The media room was bustling with reporters, and your eyes were trained on Oscar Piastri as he answered the question you had just asked him, nodding along.

“So you’re not worried about team orders, then?” you asked to confirm, and he shot you a grin.

“We’re only 20 points apart, so no,” he replied, and you smiled, turning off your recorder. “Good to see you, Y/N. When are you coming to an overseas race?”

The other reporters around left as you stayed behind to talk to Oscar. “Not really sure. I’m mostly covering IndyCar this year. I’m only here today because our F1 beat reporter caught some kind of bug.”

You had covered F1 for ESPN last year and had a blast doing it, but the travel was a lot. When the chance came up to switch to IndyCar, you took it, wanting to stay in the U.S., where you were from. You did miss the F1 drivers, though. You had a good working relationship with all of them—well, except one.

You and Lando got off on the wrong foot last year, and things never really recovered. You asked him a simple question, and he bit your head off. Instead of folding, you challenged him and called him an asshole to his face, so things were a little testy after that.

You glanced up from your notes, keeping your expression neutral as Lando approached. “Norris.”

He sighed, barely looking at you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You ignored his tone, pressing the record button. “You had a solid P2 in practice. Do you feel confident heading into qualifying, or are there still issues you need to address?”

Lando shrugged, crossing his arms. “Car’s fine. We’ll see what happens.”

You blinked, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, you pressed on. “McLaren has been closing the gap to Red Bull in recent races. Do you think this track gives you a real opportunity to challenge for the win?”

He exhaled sharply. “You lot love asking the same pointless questions every weekend, don’t you?”

You kept your voice even. “I’m asking because fans and analysts are genuinely curious about McLaren’s trajectory. If you’d rather not answer, I can move on.”

Lando let out a humorless laugh. “Right, because you’re just here for the ‘fans and analysts’—not to pick apart every word I say.”

Your grip on your pen tightened, but you refused to take the bait. “I’m here to report, Norris. What I’m not here to do is argue with you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered.

You inhaled slowly, keeping your professionalism intact. “Alright. Final question—realistically, where do you see yourself finishing this weekend?”

Lando gave you a flat look. “Ahead of where you think I will.”

You held his gaze for a moment before calmly closing your notebook. “Noted. Thanks for your time.”

He scoffed. “Yeah. Sure.”

You watched as he walked off without another word, then sighed, shutting off your recorder. Interviews with Lando Norris were always a test of patience—but at least this time, you hadn’t given him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Y/N!” You heard Carlos call out, and you instantly brightened. He was one of your favorites on the grid, and you truly missed him this season.

“Hi, Carlos,” you said, walking next to him as you were both leaving the pen. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you? Still beefing with Lando, I see,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s such a pain in the ass,” you muttered, and he let out a loud laugh.

“Please, the tension between the two of you—nothing like it,” he said, and you stopped short, giving him an incredulous look.

“What on earth are you talking about?” you asked, and he grinned.

“There are literally three different bets I know of on when you guys will get together,” he said, amused, and your eyes narrowed.

“I don’t even cover F1 races anymore,” you said.

He shrugged, holding the door open for you.

"That doesn't matter," Carlos said with a mischievous grin. "The sparks between you two are undeniable. Even from across the pond."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're delusional, Sainz. There's nothing between Lando and me except mutual disdain."

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Then why does he always ask about you when you're not around?"

You froze mid-step, turning to face him. "He... what?"

"Oh, yes," Carlos nodded, clearly enjoying this. "He tries to be subtle about it, but we all notice. 'Has anyone heard from Y/N?' 'Is Y/N covering this race?' It's quite amusing, actually."

You were about to argue when you caught sight of Lando across the paddock, talking to his race engineer. For a brief moment, his eyes met yours, and you felt a simmer of the electricity Carlos was talking about. Lando looked from you to Carlos and frowned, looking away.

“Whatever, Carlos. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, dismissing him as you headed to where your car was, thinking about what he said.

Lando was an asshole to you. That was a fact. But there were things that were off: he always took your questions first, his eyes lingered on you from across the room—almost always—and you could tell how irritated he was anytime you were talking casually with another driver.

Pair that with the fact that your boss had asked if you wanted to be moved last season to cover a different team, to which you replied no because there was just something so exciting about getting under his skin. You always had a thing for guys like him, and it didn’t really help that he was as hot as he was.

You were still irritated as you got back to your apartment and quickly texted your group chat, begging to have a girls' night out. Luckily, most of your friends were free, and one of them snagged a last-minute reservation at a place nearby.

A couple of hours later, you were two drinks in, laughing about one of your friend’s most recent Hinge horror stories. Smiling, your eyes wandered around the room, landing on a very familiar mullet.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you muttered, and your friends looked at you and then over to where you were looking. Grace was the first to laugh.

“You two are truly like magnets. Carlos was right,” she said. You shot her a pointed look. They all knew about your disdain for Lando, and you had told them what Carlos had said, hoping they’d back you up about it being ridiculous, but they had all agreed with him.

At the attention of all your friends, Lando’s friends looked over at the table, some of them smiling widely when they recognized you. It didn’t take long for one of them to come sauntering over.

“Hey, ladies,” he said. “We’re about to wrap up and would love if you guys joined us at the next bar.”

“No,” you said at the same time that your friends said, “Yes.” You groaned, putting your head into your hands.

After paying your bill, you reluctantly followed your friends out and to the next bar. Lando and his friends were hanging out on the patio, and they were excited to see your group make it. Lando smiled at all your friends, introducing himself, but then narrowed his eyes when he got to you. You rolled your eyes, muttering that you needed a drink, and walked off.

You leaned against the bar, waiting for the bartender's attention. The night air was cool on your skin, a welcome relief from the stuffy atmosphere inside. You couldn't believe your luck—or lack thereof. Of all the places in the city, Lando and his crew had to end up at the same spot as you and your friends.

"Fancy seeing you here," a familiar voice said behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Lando.

"I could say the same to you," you replied, keeping your eyes on the bartender. "Shouldn't you be resting up for qualifying tomorrow?"

Lando moved to stand beside you, effortlessly flagging down the bartender. "I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be covering the race?"

You finally turned to face him, crossing your arms. "I'm allowed to have a life outside of my job."

"So am I," he said, mirroring you.

"You sure about that?" you asked, tilting your head. "Because the way you act, it seems like your entire personality revolves around racing and being a pain in my ass."

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink. "You love it, though."

You scoffed. "I tolerate it."

He stepped closer, just enough that you could feel the warmth of his body in the cool night air. "You tolerate me? Interesting. Because from where I’m standing, you go out of your way to get under my skin."

You arched a brow. "Funny, I was about to say the same about you."

Lando’s gaze flickered to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. "Maybe we just enjoy the game too much."

You refused to be the first to look away. "Or maybe you just hate that I don’t fall for your usual charm."

His smirk deepened. "Who said I was trying to charm you?"

"Oh, please," you scoffed, taking a slow sip of your drink. "The lingering stares? The petty jabs? The way you just so happened to end up at the same bar as me tonight?"

Lando leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Maybe I just like watching you get all worked up."

You swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of the way your pulse quickened. "Keep dreaming, Norris."

He smirked, stepping back just enough to let you breathe but not enough to break the tension crackling between you. "Sweet dreams, then, Y/N."

And just like that, he walked away. But before he could get far, you yanked his arm to turn him around and crashed your lips against his.

The kiss was electric, a charged collision of all the tension that had been building between you for months. Lando's surprise quickly melted away as he responded with equal fervor, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. The world around you blurred as you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, you found yourselves staring at each other with a mix of shock and desire. The background noise of the bar slowly filtered back in, reminding you of where you were.

"Well," Lando said, his voice husky. "That was..."

"A mistake," you finished, even as your body screamed otherwise. You took a step back, trying to regain your composure. "An experiment."

"An experiment," he repeated. "And what exactly was the hypothesis?"

"I’m shocked you know that word," you said, avoiding the question.

"Y/N," he warned.

"A mutual friend hypothesized that the way we act toward each other was because of something other than hatred," you admitted, thankful that you were on drink number four now.

"And the conclusion?" he asked, tipping his head curiously.

"Inconclusive," you said, and his eyes flickered back down to your lips for a second.

"Probably need more testing," he said darkly, and your pulse quickened.

"Probably," you agreed, not breaking eye contact.

"Let’s go," he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the exit.

"I just got my drink," you complained, but made no move to stop him.

His hotel was only a couple of blocks away. That was the only thing he said the whole walk over, but his hand gripped yours tightly.

By the time you made it to his floor, his pace quickened, like he didn’t want to give you a chance to change your mind. The door opened, then closed, and suddenly you were pressed against it, his lips on your neck.

It lasted a minute before you gripped his hair, yanking his head back so you could press your lips against his.

The kiss was rough and demanding, both of you fighting each other with something other than words this time. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, and you lifted it up, watching his eyes widen at your bare chest.

Lando's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. His hands skimmed up your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shivered under his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of your usual dynamic. "Shut up and kiss me, Norris."

He smirked, clearly enjoying your impatience. "So demanding," he teased, but obliged, capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

Your hands roamed his body, tugging at his shirt until he broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head. The feeling of skin on skin was intoxicating, and you couldn't help the small moan that escaped you as he pressed you further against the door.

His hands trailed down from your waist, past the loose band of your pants and under your panties. He lightly traced over your clit before moving to where you wanted him. 

“So wet baby, are you sure you hate me?” He teased as you moaned out. 

“Positive,” you got out before he slipped a finger inside, finding your g-spot and massaging it. 

Your head fell back against the door as Lando worked his fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. But you weren't about to let him have all the control. With a sudden surge of strength, you pushed off the door, forcing him to stumble backwards towards the bed.

"My turn," you growled, shoving him onto the mattress. Lando's eyes widened in surprise, but the smirk never left his face as you straddled him.

"Thought you hated me," he teased, his hands gripping your hips.

You ground down against him, relishing the groan that escaped his lips. "I do," you breathed. "This is simply an experiment."

Your fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper, freeing his hardening length. Lando hissed as you wrapped your hand around him, pumping slowly up and down. 

“Don’t tease,” he grumbled and you smiled wickedly at him, swiping your thumb over his head causing him to whimper. The noise took you both by surprise and you knew he was embarrassed. 

“I thought you hated me,” you threw his own words back at him. “But it sounds like you don’t.”

He started to argue back but you quickly shifted your hips, slowly sinking down on top of him. 

You both gasped as you fully pushed him inside you, the sensation overwhelming. For a moment, you stayed still, adjusting to the feel of him stretching you. Lando's hands tightened on your hips, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you.

"Fuck, y/n," he breathed, voice strained. "You feel amazing."

Instead of responding, you began to move, setting a slow, torturous pace. Lando's head fell back against the pillows, a low moan escaping him. You couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph at reducing him to this state.

"Look at me," you commanded, voice husky. His eyes snapped to yours, pupils blown wide. "I want you to see exactly who's making you feel this good."

Lando's lips curled into a smirk, even as his breathing grew ragged. His fingers dug harshly into your waist and he started to move you faster against him and you groaned out. 

Lando suddenly sat up, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you onto your back in one fluid motion. The change in position drove him even deeper inside you, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. His eyes locked onto yours, blazing with intensity.

"My turn," he growled, echoing your earlier words.

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit spots that made you see stars. His thrusts were deep and purposeful, each one drawing out a moan or whimper from your lips. You clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built.

Lando's lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. The dual sensation of his mouth on your throat and his cock inside you was almost too much to bear. You arched your back, pressing your chest against his as he continued his assault on your pussy. 

"God, you feel incredible," he panted, his rhythm faltering slightly as he fought to maintain control. "So tight, so perfect for me."

Your back arched off the bed as he hit a deeper angle and your climax crashed over you. He sounded animalistic as his own release was triggered, spilling into you. 

The two of you breathed heavily for a moment looking at each other. Finally you pushed yourself off the bed and headed into the bathroom to pee and clean yourself off. When you returned, Lando was leaning against he headboard watching you as you put your clothes back on. 

“Leaving?” He asked.

“Yes,” you replied, finally looking at him. “This was just an experiment remember, it wasn’t real.”

“I remember,” he said, still watching. “You could stay.”

“I have never in my life stayed over for a one night stand,” you said. You don’t know why you told him that, he didn’t need to know anything about your personal life. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, shocked. 

“Very.” 

Lando's eyes widened at your admission. "Never? Not even once?"

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as you slipped on your shoes. "Never saw the point. It's called a one-night stand for a reason."

He sat up straighter, the sheet pooling around his waist. "But what about... I don't know, cuddling? Or morning sex?"

You couldn't help but laugh. "Cuddling? With you? Please."

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm an excellent cuddler," he protested, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, but found yourself hesitating by the door. "Look, Norris, this was... satisfying. But let's not make it more than it was."

Lando's expression sobered. "And what exactly was it, y/n.”

“An experiment,” you said again, leaving before he had a chance to ask what the result was. 

[maxellminidisc]

Got tagged by @rhubarbspring to do a poll of my 5 favorite fictional characters from any media

I'll tag @wutheringheightsfilm @llycaons @kalisbaby @afro-elf @colorisbyshe

You can also feel free to do this if it seems fun and tag me if you feel like it!

[redflannelsheets]

.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon, yandere, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, angsty, also a little fluffy?

fem reader

Discussions about superiority and inferiority between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas have become more popular lately. It’s always been many people’s opinion that the weak should cater to those stronger than them—but a debate with that as its topic is unsavory. Unfortunately, they’ve found new ways to phrase it. 

A resonating “Unmated Omegas are a danger to themselves!” garners much more sympathy…

And with the rise of people talking about it in the media, it was only natural to move the conversation into school as well.

You keep your head bowed in class as the chill runs down your spine. You feel the glare of thirty fellow students—the points of their teeth, too, and how they snicker under their breath. It’s always been rather scary being an omega, but you can’t say you’ve ever felt quite so alone.  

The teacher’s an alpha, so why should he care how what he says impacts you? He’s preaching to the choir, and you’ve never had the right to sing. The three other Omegas in your class have all chosen to stay home. They probably have the right idea—wait it out until it all blows over.

But you don’t know when that might be… You don’t know if that will be.

Society is on the precipice of critical change—new politics, new laws, new systems, new rights that separate you from them. You wallow in fear of the outcome, lying awake at night and scrolling through the news under the safety of your duvet. The statements seem endless. You wonder, why are all politicians Alphas?

You don’t want any of the things they’re suggesting—mating homes to help you find the perfect Alpha to bond with, systematic pairings done from birth, auctions. Is no one going to suggest they put shock collars on all Alphas and Betas to keep them in check? They’re the ones who need to—

“Your scent is distracting the whole class—don’t you feel ashamed?” 

It’s too easy for him to have you bent over the desk, your wrist on your back in his big fist as he wraps his tie around them. He and his goons stand around, all smiles—watching—enjoying it. It’s as if they’ve planned the whole thing, the way two of them peel away from the crowd to grab each their pick of your feet. Parting them, they use your own shoelaces to tie them to the desk legs.

The ringleader laughs. There’s an awful smell coming off him in waves—it makes you quiver. He flips your skirt up and whistles at the sight, showing everyone your ass and cotton undies. The bulge he presses against you is enough to make your tears spill despite how hard you’d fought to keep them at bay, knowing it only arouses them further.

“Aww, don’t cry, little bitch. You should be happy,” he coos, leaning over your trapped form to whisper right at your ear. “Don’t you know? You’ll never feel happier than you will bouncing on my big Alpha dick. It’s all your little Omega cunt dreams about, isn’t it?” He snickers, fiddling with his belt buckle—you flinch at every sharp clink as he jostles the metal. “Well, salvation is here—”

“Keep it to yourself.” Another voice breaks through the sounds of hollers and cheers.

Your eyes open to see him. You despise how your heart jumps in relief.

“Oi, you—” the guy at your back challenges, stepping away from you and toward the interruption.

“Yeah, me,” he states blankly, jaded. He eyes the rest of the guys with disinterest—five betas, zero threat—before telling them, “All of you. Scram.”

They all take a step to walk out as if his voice alone had compelled them, but then the previous guy interjects, making them stop in their tracks again. “Tch—you know what they’re saying. All unmated Omegas are free game, and I won this one. So back off.”

It was like watching a match of tug-of-war.

“Heh,” the intruder laughs. “That rule only counts for Alphas.”

You spot your aggressor's fists curl—there’s a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “I am an Alpha, asshole.”

“Really?” he feigns, sizing him up with a cocky tilt of his head. “Couldn’t tell.” He doesn’t seem fazed in light of the aggression—actually, it seems to amuse him if anything. “To me, you smell no different from all these other Beta losers.” 

He takes a casual step forward, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face—baring canines with grace.

“But if you wanna prove it, I’m ready when you are.”

It’s quiet after the declaration. The betas are unsure who’s side to pick, none of them eager to get caught in the middle. It becomes a competition purely between the two Alphas.

Without backup, your aggressor backs down and leaves.

“Thought so,” your savior jeers, showing the crowd out, closing and locking the door behind them.

It’s quiet after they’ve left.

You hide your face. Listening to his footsteps approach—he sighs when taking the place of the former guy. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“Y’know…” he starts. “That guy might be trash, but he isn’t wrong…” He picks up your skirt and drapes it back in place. “None of this would ever happen if you weren’t unmated.”

You speak through grit teeth. “Untie me.”

He chuckles familiarly at that, clicking his tongue at you. “What? Aren’t you gonna say please?” But he does what you say anyway. Squatting down, he starts with your ankles.

The scent of your fear still lingers in the air despite your tough act. You’ve always been so steadfast, ever since you were kids, even when it does you no good. He frees your feet—one, then the other, slowly—he even reties your laces into pretty bows before he’s done. 

He remembers it being so obvious. The sun rose in the morning and the moon at night, and you were supposed to be an Alpha while he a Beta at best. You promised you’d be by his side to keep him safe forever, and he wanted nothing more.

But then puberty hit, and nothing was as you’d imagined.

He stands and unknots the tie keeping your wrists restrained.

You immediately push him off—already storming away.

“Do I get no thank you, no nothing? Always so stubborn—” He grabs your arm.

You spin around, an unnatural snarl on your face. “Let go!”

You’d have been a terrifying Alpha. But as fate has it, you’re not. And you shouldn’t act like it. It only lands you in trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. 

“You been watchin’ the news?” he says instead, ignoring your cry and keeping a firm grip on your arm. “Seems like auctions are winning the voters. You know what that means?”

He feels you flinch, followed by a quiver. He can tell. No matter how good you are at hiding it. He can see—the way you’re fraying at the edges, barely holding it together. Always acting so strong. He can’t tell whether you enjoy torturing yourself or if you’re just that good at convincing yourself you’re fine.

“Pretty soon, new authorities are gonna come storming in here, roundin’ up every sorry unmated Omega they find, and put ‘em all on a farm where pompous Alphas can have their pick of the litter.”

He can never tell what you’re thinking, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell you any of this. You’re not stupid, you never have been. He knows you already know. But…

“You should decide now while it’s still your choice.” 

You must be terrified. He understands. But truly… it’s obvious what you have to do, isn’t it?

“It’s not like you have many options.”

It’s obvious. It always has been.

You don’t meet his eyes. You haven’t for a long while. Actually, you haven't since both of you got your test results. He understands this wasn’t what you had in mind, but you can’t afford to mope about it forever—

“How am I supposed to choose any Alpha when you’re all such assholes…”

Your mutter stunts him. It wasn’t what he expected. Or, the words were more or less exactly something he’d expect from you, but that voice—quiet and soft, dangling on the brink of sweet. If you’d said anything else, he’d have taken it as a confession.

“Can't argue with that,” he ends up chuckling again.

You hate how easy this is for him. He would cry at every turn when you were kids. It’s unfair. 

“But you can’t keep doing this, either,” he states. His voice is soft, paired with that ugly authority they all have when talking to you—talking down to you. “Just look where it gets you—scared and exhausted because of it. At least have the brains to stay home.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but you both know it isn’t. His chuckles are light—far from fullhearted.

He bends down, trying to find your eyes. He still holds onto your arm, knowing you’d sooner stomp away than listen to him. His other hand brushes your cheek gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You hear the call from the rafters—it’s not about what you want anymore. It’s about what you need.”

That’s what they say, isn’t it? What you need. You want to slap him. Scratch him with claws, bite his throat out—make him choke on his own words. Need? What you need is for them all to fuck off.

You mean to say it with the same sentiment, but something hard and rough in your throat makes all your words come out wobbly. “Mate an Alpha to stay safe from other Alphas. What a joke.”

You bow your head further. The tears return. They burn as they trail down the sore streaks from before.

He’s never seen you like this. He won’t lie, it makes his pants tight—feeling the urge to suck your cheeks, hold you close and comfort you. But knowing you right, you’d probably never let him. Your face would probably scrunch up in disgust, punch his gut, knee his groin, then turn on your heel and leave him on the floor wheezing.

You really would have made the most terrifying Alpha. 

“The world isn’t fair,” he agrees. “But you get nowhere cryin’ about it—do it my way, and you’ll never—”

“Have any freedom,” you cut him off with a sniffle. 

It’s about the most adorable thing he’s seen in his life.

He gets why you don’t like Alphas—they’re all gross. He makes himself sick sometimes. He can’t believe he’s getting off on watching you have a mental breakdown. There’s something seriously wrong with his side of the species. His throat’s tight, mouth watery with the urge to reap your vulnerability. 

Suppressing it only makes his inner beast furious. Some of that aggression comes out in his next words.

“I’m sorry, but the world doesn’t give a shit about your freedom.” 

The grip around your arm tightens, and you look up in shock—watching his narrowed eyes through your watery ones. 

“What you need is safety—now more than ever. Or do you like being preyed on by every Alpha around the corner?” 

Your bottom lip trembles at the reality of it—a little while ago, you were almost— 

“One of these days, I'm not gonna be here in time, and you’ll be a slave to some fucking—” 

He huffs and hangs his head. His hand loosens up—it trembles where he holds you in place.

“In all honesty, I think I’m more scared than you,” he whispers under his breath. “I think I might kill—”

He stops himself again. You don’t know if it’s in an effort not to frighten you or himself.

“Speak about needs…” he begins anew, now softer. “I need to know you’re safe. I need to—” He looks up. His eyes are back to being round. “I need you more than you need me, probably.”

There’s a desperation on his face. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

“So… please?” he begs. “Will you keep me safe like you promised and stay by my side?”

Your tears dry and prickle. Looking into his eyes now, you see the same boy you knew back in your childhood—that one who’d chase you all over even when you’d call him a sniveling crybaby. You realize, Alpha or not, he hadn’t changed all that much at all. 

“It’s not like you need my permission,” you end up saying.

You’ve always been so hard-headed. He has to smile. “No, but I want it.”

You nibble your lip. You can’t believe you’re at the mercy of this big dumb hunk of… you don’t have the words to describe him. He wasn’t exactly a crybaby anymore. 

“Okay. You win.” 

His eyes widen as you bear your neck with a stretch. Head high and shoulders slack. 

You swallow thickly. “Get it over with.”

He shudders at the sight. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but now it almost seemed too soon. 

“We should be supervised by a professional—you know how wrong things can go—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Your eyes remain shut, and your lips pursed.

His tongue grows thick in his mouth at your bark. A sudden stroke of performance anxiety makes his palms sweaty, hands heavy and shaking. But then the sight of your soft neck has his mood shift, becoming drowsy.

He has no control over the growl that begins rumbling from his gut.

But he doesn’t apologize for it either.

He bends forward—breaths on your chest before he licks your throat. You can’t help but whimper at the warmth. He watches you through hooded eyes—your usually angry face is now all cute, riddled with anxiety you try hiding paired with the grim anticipation of pain.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the spot softly. He sways you against him, then lifts you up on the desk for you to sit. Grazing your neck with teeth when feeling your hands tangle two fistfuls of his shirt. He expects you to push him away, but you don’t—you tug him closer instead as if silently telling him to hurry up.

But he doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to lose himself—that’s how accidents happen. So he sticks to sucking gently, only tiny nibbles that leave your skin hot and lightly bruised in their wake.

You give a moan once he finds the spot, and he growls in restraint upon the pretty sound—feeling you relax despite being threatened with his teeth right at your artery. He almost humps your leg in return, feeling the boil of blood pump him hot and heavy in his pants—breaths turning equally hot and heavy, each one laced with rust.

Drool coated your neck in a cool sheen, soothing the marks made beneath it, while his lips and fangs aroused pleasure in the spot that now ached for the sting of his bite.

“Please,” slipped from your mouth while tugging him closer. 

His eyes, completely drunk on the pretty prayer, had only a slim rim of color left surrounding the hungering bottomless pits, blown full and black with opium.

No one could come and take you away from him now. Not with his print so pretty on your neck. You were his—just as you were always supposed to be.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Natsuo, Amajiki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour Is Upon Us - Part 3

In which you and Max spend the next six months just being obsessed with each other.

Warnings: A little angst, but not 'break up with you' angst, just 'i really fucking miss you' angst so it's okay. And fluff. Tooth achingly sweet fluff. Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 4.4k plus a shit ton of social media posts. - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 2 - Master List

(a/n before we begin: Probably one more part to this. Thinking of doing an 'after Max gets you back to the hotel post-race' part to wrap things up nicely if anyone wants to see that.)

Monaco May 2024

F1GossipOfficial posted

34,028 likes F1GossipOfficial Seems as if our favorite Red Bull driver and sunny little podcaster are getting closer! The pair was spotted around Monaco this week ahead of the Monaco Grand Prix. The pair have been seen publicly a handful of times since Max made an appearance on her podcast The Yapping Hour in late April, most notably at the Miami Grand Prix at the beginning of the month and then the week later in New York City where she is based. Everyone who sent in photos said the pair were super cozy and seemed lost in their own world. user0299 she's only with him for the clout and money. Her little podcast was dying out and she latched onto Max like a leech. >>>user5572 go touch some grass my man. Her podcast is consistently the number 1 listened to show on all platforms all the fucking time. user9938 they are so cute, i can't handle it user4530 I saw them at dinner the other night and oh my GOD. They sat on the same side of the table even though it was just the two of them. He held her hand underneath the table all through dinner and I don't think either of them stopped smiling or looked anywhere else but at each other the entire night. >>>user39948 they are so fucking perfect oml

Canada June 2024 yourpersonalinsta posted

493,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, totowolff, and others yourpersonalinsta Over the moon to have been able to be with you for this win in Canada, Maxie. user299 MAXIE?! I have no one to talk to about this redbullracing our good luck charm strikes again! >>>user456 Red Bull calling her theirs??? Love this for her. maxverstsppen1 thank you for always being in my corner liefje ❤️ >>>user394 how am i supposed to be normal after reading this??? user8827 Not Toto in the likes trying to get on her good side so Max signs with Merc in 2026 >>>user778 HAHA can you imagine??

Amalfi Coast August 2024

maxverstappen1 posted

987,409 likes liked by yourpersonalinsta, redbullracing, yourdad and others maxverstappen1 summer break with this gorgeous girl user458 they are my royal couple yourpersonalinsta wishing we were back on that boat rn instead of on different continents :( >>>maxverstappen1 just a few more weeks until Singapore, schatje. >>>user4938 this is my roman empire >>>user024 mom and dad are sad so i am sad too

October 2024 Austin, Texas

You hadn't seen Max in over three weeks. Three very, very, very long weeks. And not to be dramatic or anything but you felt like you might actually pass away if the Uber that was currently picking it's way through very heavy Austin traffic drove any slower.

While the sleek Mercedes SUV waited at a red light, your gaze drifted away from the navigation system showing the the heavy traffic all around you towards the busy city streets around you. Whoever had decided to schedule an Eminem concert, a huge college rivalry football game, and a Formula 1 race all in the same city on the same weekend should have their head examined.

Fixated on the crowd on the sidewalk outside, you mull over the last six months of your life. It has certainly been a whirlwind, that was for sure. If someone had told you back in the beginning of May that you'd be on your way to your sixth Grand Prix of the year to watch your boyfriend race in Formula 1, you would have laughed in their faces. Because really, when you sat back and considered it, the fact that you had gone from being a fan of the sport and interviewing Max on a professional level to dating him in under six months was absolutely wild.

While you attended races whenever you could, you found yourself more often than not called to the other side of the world to attend to your flourishing career. In the last six months you had ping ponged around the globe, bouncing between weekends with Max and over scheduled weeks filled with work, interviews, and meetings. Some days you just wished that things were simpler and you could just dedicate yourself to following Max around from city to city but you knew that Susan B Anthony would roll over in her grave if you gave up everything for a man so quickly, even a man as amazing as Max Verstappen.

You brush aside the thought of leaving your work because in the end, all that is is a simple fantasy brought on by you missing the man that has become the center of your universe lately.

After attending the Singapore GP with Max, you had spent a few extra days with him in Asia before needing to fly home. While Max did have nearly an entire month break from racing, he couldn't follow you to New York like he had intended. After coming back from the summer break, Max's luck had started to slip and the car had deteriorated. He hadn't won a race in months, the car was an absolute tractor, and Lando was gaining on him in the Championship. He had needed to spend every extra moment he had in the sims and with the engineering team trying to salvage the season.

While Max had been in Europe, you had been in the US recording episodes with Heidi Klum, Wayne Gretzky, and finally Kylie Kelce. Heidi had been in LA, Wayne in Florida, and Kylie in Philly so you had spent most of the last three weeks on the road. As the SUV inched closer to the COTA track, you realized you couldn't remember the last time you'd set foot in your apartment.

Exhaustion seeps into your bones as the realization washes over you. You loved the life you lived, wouldn't trade it for the world but sometimes, in these quiet moments you wished for a break, a chance to go home, wherever that even was now, and just rest.

Your phone buzzing beside you pulls you back to the present. Ysou struggle to shake off the mind numbing melancholy that's settled over you like a thick woolen blanket before answering the call. "Hi baby." You sigh, knowing who it is without even looking at the caller ID.

"What's wrong?" Max's voice is sharp on the other end, effortlessly reading your tone.

You shake your head, chest tightening with anxiety. "Just..." You search for the right words. "tired is all. I just realized I can't even remember the last time I spent a night in my own bed."

"Oh, schatje." Max sighs, knowing how grueling this schedule is as he lives it as well. "Do you want me to have the jet take you home? It's at the airfield still."

Tears collect in your eyes as your chest squeezes painfully. "No, I just want to see you." You whisper, afraid if you raise your voice you'll start to cry.

"How far are you from the track?"

You pop your head around the SUV's headrest to check the nav system. "Not long. Five minutes. I can see the giant observation tower from here."

"Have the Uber bring you right to the paddock gates. I have a car here and a few hours before any media duties. I'll take you back to the hotel myself and we can take a nap together, okay?"

Your entire body sags with relief at his words. If there was one thing that Max was good at, it was taking care of you. He didn't hem and haw or waver on a plan of action. He saw what you needed and made sure that you were taken care of. The way the burden of everything that you had silently carried for years shifted towards Max the moment you landed in Miami all those months ago was something that would shock you for years to come.

"Okay." You whisper, swiping at a single tear that managed to escape.

You have a few moments to collect yourself before the Uber stops at the entrance to the paddock. From your seat in the back, you spot a familiar blonde head that belonged to your Dutch boyfriend waiting for you. You're suddenly simultaneously bursting with excitement and beside yourself with grief as the anxiety that has gnawed at you over the last 24 hours fully consumes you at the mere sight of Max.

Max has you out of the car and into his arms before you can barely catch your breath. The moment you inhale that uniquely Max scent something inside you shifts and becomes crystal clear. You didn't need Max to have his jet take you home because you already were home. It sounded cliche in your head and it probably was, but you knew there was some truth to it: somewhere over the last six months your home had shifted away from your apartment in New York to wherever Max was.

Max tightens his grip around your waist, settling his chin on your head while you stay buried deep in his neck, you realize that home isn't a place any longer. Home is a person now and Max is that person. You don't have to go home to New York to rest, you just have to be in Max's presence. With him, you are utterly and completely safe and secure. For someone who spends 99% of her time 'on' and performing, being able to come home to Max and just switch it all off, allowing him to lead and take over, is the most powerful form of rest you could have ever dreamt of.

Max nods at the driver as he unloads your luggage, arms still locked tight around you. He can feel you melt into him, like you've been waiting for this moment since the last time you saw him. He knows that for him at least, this is true. Everything else in his life is completley falling apart. The car sucks, they had to ditch the special livery for this weekend becuase the fucking paint had the potential to make the car too heavy and slow. Lando has been on a tear lately, that McLaren a complete rocket ship and the only reason Lando hasn't overtaken him in the championship is thanks to some spectacularly shitty calls from the McLaren pit wall.

The only bright spot in Max's day is you. Your voice, your touch, your face. Any bit of you he gets on a daily basis is what keeps him going right now. As he had stood on the curb just moments before, desperately and not so patiently waiting while watching the black Mercedes SUV creep down the street towards him, it had felt like cruel and unusual punishment after being apart from you for so long.

And now? Now you were back in his arms and he drew in the longest breath he could, taking in the scent of your perfume and laundry soap that he had missed so keenly while he'd been working, and he simply couldn't get enough.

Max pulls away slightly, so he can see your pretty face but what he sees in your eyes nearly breaks him. Pain and longing hang heavy in your eyes and there is nothing Max wouldn't do to make all of that go away for you. Fingers tip your chin up towards him so he can finally get his lips on yours, a soft sigh escaping your mouth when he makes that first contact.

You swear it's like a cool drink of water in the middle of a humid heatwave in July, the way Max kisses you with such relief and passion and affection. Like he's trying to tell you through his kiss how much he adores you, how much he's missed you, how much he craves you.

"I love you." Are the first words he says to you and your breath catches in your throat. It isn't the first time he's said those words, Max had said them first all those months back when he brought you home to Monaco. It had been quick, probably too quick by the world's standards, but it just clicked between the two of you and the words had tumbled out of Max like it was the most natural thing in the world. The reason the words had your breath catching in your chest was because of the ferocity behind them, like he could tell how bone tired you were from all the travel over the last few months and he was desperate to remind you why you were doing all of this. Why the two of you were doing all of this together and apart. It was for moments like this, moments where you were attached to each other in the middle of the busy paddock parking lot like no one else existed.

"I love you too, Max." You whisper, dusting your lips over the stubble that was scattered over his jaw. "Can we go take a nap now? I'm so tired."

yourpersonalinsta posted

348,209 likes liked by kyliekelce, maxverstappen1, assistantshannon, and others yourpersonalinsta home is wherever you are (tagged: maxverstappen1) user098 mad max is no more, there is only soft cuddly boyfie max user0399 this is the cutest thing i've ever seen user000 god i am so single maxverstappen1 love you baby >>>danielricciardo SIMP >>>maxverstappen1 absolutely >>>user9938 it kills me that he is loves her so boldly and loudly. girl hit the mfing jackpot. (liked by author)

It's not your alarm that fully wakes you up on Friday morning. It isn't Max's either. But as you try to untangle your limbs from Max's and search for the source of the ringing, you can't help but curse whoever is interrupting the slow sleepy cuddles that had been progressing into something more heated for the past 20 minutes.

You nearly spit you're so mad when you see the caller ID.

"John." You growl, sitting up in bed as Max settles himself back against the mountain of pillows beside you. "It is 8 in the morning on a Friday the day after I saw my boyfriend for the first time in over three weeks. I swear on all things good and holy, this had better be good."

John, to his credit, didn't even scoff at the threat. He'd been your business manager for going on four years now and was used to your early morning attitudes.

"She said yes."

You sit up, back going ramrod straight as the three words clang through you. "What?" You hiss.

Beside you, Max struggles to sit up too, alarm coursing through him at the panic in your voice.

"Tree just called me five minutes ago. Said that Kylie had sent her the episode and wouldn't stop gushing about how amazing you were and how you were the perfect person to do this interview on the end of the tour and everything. Tree said Taylor watched your episode with Michelle and Queen Maxima too, said they were the best interviews she's ever seen. Everything is a go."

Your entire world tilts as what John is telling you fully sinks in. "Taylor Swift's agreed to come on the show?" You voice is weak, heavy under the weight of the news John is telling you. Your hands tremble at the thought of what this means for you. For your career.

Beside you, Max sucks in a breath at your sentence, fully aware of how big of a moment this is for you. Pride soars through him as he watches literal sunshine dance across your face, your smile as bright as the Texas morning light. "Schatje." He whispers, pulling your free hand towards his lips. Your eyes dart over to him and you grin at him, kicking your feet a little, completely unable to hide your excitement.

"She also said yes to your suggestion of a behind the scenes vlog on your channel ahead of the release of the episode. Thought the idea was marketing gold. You've got full access to everything for the entire week."

Before you had landed Kylie Kelce on the show, you and John had made a silly, pie in the sky request to Tree Paine not even thinking that it would go anywhere. When Kylie had agreed to do an episode, a request that had actually been made to her people months before John had contacted Tree, the idea of maybe, just maybe you might be able to land Taylor after had grown a bit. You hadn't told anyone of the request, not even Max, because you didn't want to be embarrassed if it didn't work out.

"There's only one problem." Your heart stops and you grip at Max's hand for support. You knew there had to be a catch. "They want you in Toronto by Sunday."

"Wh-what?" Your stomach plummets through the floor. You had just gotten to Austin last night and now you were going to have to leave again? You were supposed to spend the entire triple header with Max. Three weeks of solid time with him had been the only thing getting you through the previous three week separation. You two had even planned to go visit your parents in Michigan between Austin and Mexico later next week.

"The first concert is Monday and Tree wants you to get as much content as you can and has asked you be there at 9am Monday morning."

You head spins. "Oh-okay." There's a giant Max shaped hole in your heart at what you have to agree to, simply exhausted by the fact that you're going to have to pick up and leave again so soon. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

"Do you want me to have Shannon make flight arrangements?"

You glance over at Max, who senses your apprehension. "Let me talk through it with Max and see what we can figure out. I'll call you in a few hours, okay?"

"Sounds good. Congratulations, kiddo. This is huge."

You smile despite yourself, excitement and anxiety winding their way through your chest making it a little hard to breathe. "Bye John."

You gently place your phone back on the bedside table before turning to Max, bracing yourself for the good and bad news you have to deliver.

"The beginning of that call looked phenomenal but now you look like you're going to be sick." Max observes, pulling you into his lap.

You shudder against when his lips graze your neck, dropping a kiss to his forehead. "Taylor Swift agreed to come on the show and to let me do a weeks worth of behind the scenes of her Toronto shows."

"Baby, that is amazing. This is going to be huge for you and the show!"

You nod, a bit dazed by all of this information you have to process. "But they want me there by Sunday night so I can start first thing Monday." Sadness edges into your voice, the dread of having to leave Max again begins to sink in fully.

"When should Greg have the jet ready to take off then? You'll probably want to leave before the end of the race to beat traffic, yeah? Although I suppose we could find you a helicopter to take you from the track to the airport."

You stare at Max like he's grown three heads. His voice is so nonchalant despite him suggesting he rent you a helicopter that all you can do is blink at him for a few moments. "Just...just like that? You're on board with it? You're not upset?"

Max scoffs, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your shoulder. His arms go tighter around your waist as he gives you a kiss on the cheek. "Why would I be upset? I'll do anything I can to help you live out this dream, schatje. You know that. This is the biggest thing to happen to your career since you had F1 racing legend Max Verstappen as a guest."

The giggle that tumbles out of you has the tension in the room popping like a soap bubble. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, you're still here." Max finds your lips then, the kiss full of reassurance and confidence. Of course he was disappointed you were going to be leaving in 2 days and he wasn't sure when you'd be back with him but this opportunity was too good to miss. "I'd never forgive myself if you missed spending a week doing what you love with one of your favorite artists because of me. Of course I'll miss you but you need to do this. So tell me, when should I have the jet ready to get you to Toronto?"

yourpersonalinsta story post

story replies: user8882 ARE YOU THERE FOR ERAS TOUR??? user029 what are you up to ma'am??? user837 wait. first kylie's on the show and now you're in Toronto the same week as Taylor. ARE WE GETTING A TAYLOR EPISODE OH MY GOD.

TheYappingHour posted

876,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, alexandrasaintmleux, and others theyappinghour Toronto, you were stunning! Can anyone guess who our next guest on the show is going to be??? Behind the scenes vlog dropping next week ahead of a very very special two part episode set to drop later this month. user928 oh my god, everyone stay calm, it's happening. user020 IS THIS FOR REAL??? I will never recover maxverstappen1 so proud of you my love >>>yourpersonalinsta couldn't do it without you, maxie >>>user928 if there's one thing Max is going to be, it's the first one in the likes and comments on anything his girl does. (liked by yourpersonalinsta) >>>user0298 may this kind of love find me one day

Excerpt from Episode 59 of The Yapping Hour featuring Taylor Swift:

You: Speaking of what you do in your down time, can we talk about how supportive you are of your boyfriend and show up for him despite the Brad's and Chad's hating every second of it?

Taylor: It's so silly to me, how much everyone hates it. When I show up at the game, I'm just like every other significant other. I'm not there to take the spotlight away from anyone, I just want to watch my man play!

You: Oh my God, I totally get it. It's so strange to me the way some fans can't handle someone like you who has a whole other identity outside of who you're dating, showing up to support the person you love.

Taylor: It's like, relax! I'm just here to watch my boyfriend catch a ball!

You: Right? Just let me enjoy watching 20 cars drive around in circles in peace please!

Taylor: You two are so cute though. Trav was watching the race in Monaco a few months back, right after he invested in Alpine, and there was that one shot of you and Max after the end of the race in his garage and you were giving him a hug. I love how loudly you love him and how public he is about you. It's refreshing.

You: Oh gosh, thank you. Yes, he is so supportive of everything I do, just like Travis is. It's such a comfort, isn't it? *Taylor nods* He actually stayed in Austin an extra day so I could use his jet to come up here.

Taylor: Trav was supposed to go to that race but got caught up in training stuff. It looked like so much fun.

You: Have you ever been to a race? Either of you?

Taylor: I haven't but Travis went to the Las Vegas race last year. Said it was the one of the biggest parties he'd ever been to.

You: You'll have to come this year then! It's in a few weeks!

Taylor: I'll talk to Trav and see if we can make it happen.

TheYappingHour posted

1,039,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, kikagomes, and others theyappinghour What an absolute whirlwind of a week and a half. Spending time with your favorite artist, seeing her in her element, and then spending a few hours talking about everything from what it's like to live such a public life to how important it is to have a supportive significant other. I simply can't wait to share the behind the scenes vlog dropping at the end of this week and then the episode later this month. Taylor, you are a dream of a human being and we are so happy to have had this opportunity. Can't wait to see you and Travis at a race! taylorswift You are such a sweetheart! So glad we got to spend time together this past week! Can't wait to hear the episode my love! kikagomes how does it feel to live my dreammmm bestie??? >>>yourpersonalinsta kiks omg i will never recover from this!! maxverstappen1 Proud of you, as always lifeje. >>>yourpersonalinsta can't wait to see you so so so soon baby

"And he doesn't expect a thing?" You glance up at the ticket counter where the airline employee has begun to call first class. You stand, phone still pressed to your ear, pulling your carry on behind you.

"Nope!" On the other end, Max's PR manager Sophie giggles conspiratorially. "He was just complaining to GP ten minutes ago how he couldn't believe they didn't have more flights from Sao Paulo to Paris. He said he was considering upgrading his jet to one with longer range so he could fly private next time."

You roll your eyes but chuckle. If you were a drama queen, your boyfriend could be the drama king to match sometimes. Although you didn't blame him to be quite honest. After leaving Austin mid way through the race, you had missed the Mexico race entirely. The plan had been for you to fly down to Brazil for the Sao Paulo race but editing and press had taken much longer than you had anticipated so now it was Saturday night and you were boarding a 9 hour flight from New York to the South American country.

Only, Max didn't know that. Max thought you were getting on a flight to Nice via Paris before driving to Monaco where he'd meet you sometime late Monday night or early Tuesday morning. Joke was on him though, you had finished everything up and had called Sophie for help to get you down to Brazil just in time for Sunday's race.

"He's such a baby." You murmur as the flight attendant leads you to your seat.

"He is beside himself missing you." Sophie says and you can hear the smile in her voice. "Just make sure I'm around when he sees you for the firs time, okay? He's going to lose it."

Laughing, you hoist your suitcase into the overhead bin before settling down in the luxurious lie flat seat that will be your bed for the next nine hours. If everything goes right, you'll land in Brazil just as the postponed qualifying is finishing up and will be able to watch the entire race in person.

"Thank you for helping coordinate this, Soph. I really appreciate it."

"Anything to get Max out of this slump he's in!" She replies brightly.

A few minutes later, you hang up the phone and type out a quick text letting Max know you're boarding the flight. Luckily, the flight from New York to Paris is roughly the same time as the flight to Sao Paulo so he doesn't bat an eye when you tell him you'll be unreachable, only telling you that the doorman to his building is expecting you and to make yourself at home in his apartment in Monaco when you get there before he does.

************************************************************************

It is absolutely raining cats and dogs when the car Sophie hired pulls into the track after what feels like a lifetime of travel. Right after they served dinner on your flight, you took a sleeping pill and passed out for the duration of the flight, only waking up once the pilot turned on the overhead lights, signaling your arrival.

A quick text to Sophie alerts her to your arrival and she says she'll come and meet you outside the paddock with an extra umbrella. The driver that picked you up from the airport will take your luggage to the hotel where Max and the team are staying. When the car stops in front of the paddock gates, you spot Sophie immediately.

"Soph!!" You shout the moment you stumble out of the car, limbs a little stiff from the long car ride. Sao Paulo traffic is a beast in the best of weather but in a downpour like this? Nightmarish.

Sophie opens her arms to embrace you, "Oh I am so glad you're here. He is an absolute nightmare right now."

You grimace, knowing exactly why. He'd be starting P17 in a few hours. Between the team having got caught behind a red flag during Q2 and his 5 place grid penalty, it was a nightmare scenario for Max. All of this was compounded by Lando's win in the sprint yesterday and the fact that he was starting on pole today.

"Alright then, lets go. Maybe I can talk him down off a ledge before the race starts."

Sophie grins because she knows you'll be able to do just that. If there was anyone who could calm Mad Max down and bring him back to earth after the kind of morning the team had had today, it was you.

As you weave your way through the crowded paddock, the heavy rain simply not a deterrent to anyone at the track today, Max is in the garage considering the merits of scratching his eyeballs out so that he doesn't have to run this fucking race today. Everything is wrong. The car is terrible. Still. The FIA seemed to have a hard on for fucking up his weekend. Lando was on poll. And worst of all, he really fucking missed you. There was still several days between him and being reunited with you but if he could have just walked right out of the paddock and onto a plane to get to wherever you were in that moment, he would have. The only thing that seemed to settle him during these times lately was your steady presence in the garage. He didn't even need you to say anything, just knowing that you were around, within arms length if he needed you, did something to calm him like nothing else could.

He's talking to GP, actually, he's grumbling at GP when a familiar flash of hair and bright smile catches his eyes. Perfect, he thinks miserably, now I'm imagining her in the garage. I've gone full unhinged obsessed boyfriend, haven't I?

Imagine his shock when he actually hears your voice. "Max." You call out softly, hands clasped in front of you as you wait at the edge of the garage beside Sophie.

Max simply blinks a few times, as if he's trying to figure out if he's hallucinating or if you're really standing in front of him. His heart hammers in his chest when everything finally clicks into place. GP doesn't even bat an eye when Max walks away from him, mid sentence, before crossing the garage in a few short strides.

Max isn't usually one for intense public displays of affection, especailly in the garage and neither are you. There's a level of professionalism he likes to maintain while racing and you have always respected that but when Max sees you standing in front of him, practically drowning in one of his sweatshirts, hair wet and messy from walking through the paddock in the rain, he can't stop himself from scooping you up in his arms. Burying his head in your neck, he inhales deeply. So deeply that his lungs pinch with pain from the way he's trying to commit the way you smell to memory.

"You're here." He murmurs, voice thick and heavy with emotion. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to meet me in Monaco?"

Max sets you down, not really wanting you out of his arms but wanting to move you to a quieter part of the garage. Behind you, Sophie, GP and the rest of the team discreetly shuffle away to give you two a bit of privacy.

"I knew how hard the last two races were for you and I just..." Pausing, you have to wait for a moment for your hands to stop shaking. You've been running on sheer adrenaline and caffeine for what feels like the last three weeks now and the emotion of the moment catches up to you. "I just wanted to be here for you."

Max lowers his lips to yours, covering them in a kiss that is all longing and white hot heat. He keeps the kiss just this side of tame enough for the garage, not wanting to draw the ire of Christian but he had needed to taste you then. His hand comes up to cup your face while the other slips around your waist, pulling you in closer to his body. He's slightly damp from how wet it's been this morning but none of that matters now that you're back in his arms.

"I missed you so much." He murmurs, blue eyes practially sparkling down at you, he's so happy. It's been weeks since he's felt like this. Settled. Like he can take on the world. For the first time in what feels like forever, Max has a sense of determination that wraps itself around him. Like the championship isn't all but lost to Lando. Like the car isn't going to be terrible today, even though he might not even finish in the points. Like everything he's gone through the past few months on the track is all about to end because you're finally here and if anyone can bring the team luck, it's you.

"I love you." You whisper into his chest. "Now, let's go show the world why you're about to become a 4 time world champion, yeah?"

And that's exactly what he does.

yourpersonalinsta posted

938,398 likes liked by redbullracing, taylorswift, yourdad and others yourpersonalinsta we are SO back, baby!!! What started out as a nightmare of a day turned into a generational drive for the history books. P17 to P1 and I cannot believe I was there to witness it. Max, I am proud of you beyond words. You and the entire team deserve this win today. I love you to the moon and back, Maxie. (tagged: maxverstappen1) taylorswift what a race! Trav and I caught most of it before the game today. Congratulations!!! >>>yourpersonalinsta hope to see you in Vegas in a couple of weeks! >>>user928 oh my god, new bestie duo unlocked!? maxverstappen1 words fail to describe how much I love you baby. Thank you for always being in my corner and never giving up on me, even when I want to give up on myself. Love you to the ends of time, schatje >>>user928 i am SOBBING. Boyfriend Max is my favorite Max.

Tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99

[no-144444]

The Grid! : When their teammate likes you...

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Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Carlos Sainz, Arthur LeClerc, Ollie Bearman, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan.

this is 18+ so mdni please! smut in some of them!

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Oscar Piastri: somehow plays it cool…

Oscar understood that you were a magnetic person. You’d always been more extroverted than him, always been a bit more open to other people, and generally, you were just interesting. He got where Lando was coming from, to be fair, he’d fallen for you too. 

But openly flirting with you in the middle of a red flag during one of the most dangerous races of the season? That took a certain asshole. 

Lando Norris. 

Oscar had looked up to Lando throughout his career, and now having him as his teammate was brilliant. He loved it, up to a point. In recent months he’d been noticing the way Lando looked at you. The way he talked to you. The way he always wanted to be around you. 

“Hey baby,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around Oscar as he walked up. “Doing well out there.”

He also knew that you were less than interested in Lando. Not that you didn’t like him, but you did find him slightly immature and ridiculous, especially with how he handles races and media afterwards. You much preferred Oscar’s style of driving, and his way of speaking. 

Oscar nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He watched as Lando’s face fell, then he quickly picked it back up. “Doing our best, right Lando?”

You both looked to Lando, who looked guilty, like he’d been caught. 

“Yeah mate,” he agreed before walking off. 

“Jealous much?” you smirked, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Oscar shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Just wanted a kiss, that’s all.”

“From me or Lando?” you teased.

“You, obviously,” he mocked. 

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Lando Norris: deeply insecure. 

Lando is insecure about a lot of things. One of his main ones is his worth as a human, and a driver. It hit him hard when Oscar got to stand on the top step of a podium before he ever had. He knew it was a matter of circumstance and the fact that the car was getting better, but it still hurt. Yet, you were always there to pick up the pieces. His sweet, kind girlfriend who was always there for him. 

That same girlfriend that was laughing at a joke Oscar told. Oscar wasn’t funny. Oscar has never been funny. 

Lando watched as you two talked. He watched the way you laughed, the way you smiled, the way you engaged with his points and added your own. The way you two easily laughed, joked, and teased each other without ever going too far. 

He couldn’t help but feel… without. You had always been more introverted, and your extroverted side always seemed to come out with other introverts, aka, not Lando. Then began his spiralling of wondering whether or not he was good enough for you. He knew you loved him, and he loved you, but would that be enough? When you’re so different? When he can’t give you what Oscar can? Oscar was a 2-time-Gp winner in his second year. Oscar was more similar to you than Lando was. Oscar’s personality was closer to yours than Lando’s was. 

Was he enough for you?

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He walked into the hotel room, exhausted, and glad that the day was over. Media days took it out of him, and he was sick of watching Oscar’s smug face as he charmed you all day. 

You flung yourself on the bed, exhausted. “Oscar would not shut up today, would he?” you sighed. 

Lando’s lips quirked up into a smile. He turned to hide it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He kept talking to me about random shit, and I had to pretend to be interested all day.”

Lando almost laughed. “You don’t seem to mind when I talk your ear off.” 

“Yeah, obviously not,” you scoffed, looking at him as if it were obvious. “I like your rants. You don’t expect me to answer you all the time. You just let me listen. Plus, I love your voice.”

Lando’s heart felt fuller than it did before. You picked him. You loved him. 

“You like my voice, eh?” he smirked, joining you on the bed. He pressed soft kisses to your neck as he wrapped his arms around you. “I know a way you can hear it-”

“Lando, did I not just say I’m exhausted,” you chuckled, playfully pushing him off. 

He smiled. You truly were perfect. 

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Lewis Hamilton: unbothered 

He watched as George attempted to flirt with you and laughed. You laughed too, thinking it was a joke. George walked off, embarrassed. 

Lewis walked over and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. “George is-”

“Pathetic?” he offered and you shook your head. 

“Don’t be so mean!” you scolded. 

“He’s a big boy, he can take it,” he smirked. “And anyways, what was he thinking?”

“I am your wife,” you nodded, agreeing. “But he is pretty cute…”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?” he teased. 

You laughed. “Never.” 

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George Russell: trusts you

“Lewis, nice to meet you,” you smiled, shaking his hand. “I’m Y/n Russell.”

“Y/n… your sister?” Lewis turned to George, smirking. “I didn’t realise she was so pretty, I guess someone had to take all the beauty genes.”

“She’s my wife,” he smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist. “And yes, she is gorgeous.”

You somehow kept it together as Lewis apologised and walked off, but immediately broke out into laughter as he turned his back. 

“What a dick,” George chuckled. “You alright?”

“All good baby,” you giggled. “A bit weirded out that he thought we were siblings.”

George nodded, grimacing. “I vote we never speak about this again.”

“I second that,” you nodded. 

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Kimi Antonelli: confused more than anything

Ollie was a really nice guy, one of Kimi’s best friends despite only knowing each other for a year. He was a good teammate and a good friend. 

Kimi was clueless. He didn’t always understand what people meant when people ‘flirted’, to be fair, English was his second language. He watched as Ollie wrapped an arm around you, resting it over your shoulder as you grimaced, clearly wanting him to stop. Kimi just shrugged, assuming you’d just push him off or ask him to stop. You weren’t exactly known to put up with shit like that, so he wasn’t worried. You three walked around the Monaco bay, looking at the boats as the sun set, all three of you full from dinner. When you finally parted ways, you and Kimi went back to your hotel room as Ollie stayed out, going to Arthur’s house to visit, you sighed as you lay down. 

“What did you think of Ollie?” Kimi asked, laying beside you, your back to him. 

“Apart from his obvious flirting, I thought he was nice, I guess,” you shrugged. 

Kimi frowned. “What do you mean?”

You turned around to see him. “Him flirting? Yeah, I thought you’d say something about it,” you explained. “He was kind of… weird about it.”

“Did he make you uncomfortable?” he asked, upset with himself that he hadn't noticed. 

You stared at him with an inquisitive look, he really was oblivious. “Of course he did.”

“What?” he questioned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to make a bad impression,” you muttered. “He’s your best friend.”

“And you’re my girlfriend,” he reminded you, taking your hand. “And you are more important. If someone makes you uncomfortable, you tell me and I will deal with it, alright?”

You nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his hand. “Thanks Kimi.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. 

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Alex Albon: slightly insecure…

He sat in his drivers room, he’d just filmed Team Torque with you and Logan, and he couldn’t help but feel… left out. You were American, specifically from the exact state of Florida, where Logan was from, you lived on the same street. You’d grown up together before he left to move to do European single-seaters. The entire episode was just you two talking and reminiscing over your joint experiences as a kid. Logan remembered everything about you, your favourite colour, your favourite food, even your favourite childhood movie (which Alex had gotten wrong). 

“What’s on your mind?” You asked, sitting beside him. “You’re not talking.”

“I didn’t know you and Logan were such good friends,” he admitted. 

You shrugged. “We grew up together.” 

“I know,” he responded, his voice low and hardened. “I didn’t know he’d remember everything about you.”

“I mean, people told me he had a crush on me in middle school so…” you trailed off when you noticed how Alex was closing his eyes and nodding. “Are you… jealous, or something?”

“No.” Yes. 

You smiled, feeling a little bit guilty. “Alex, you don’t have to be jealous,” you assured him. “I love you. More than anything.”

The pain in his chest eased slightly. “You’re sure?”

“Very,” you nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

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Franco Colapinto: doesn’t even notice or gaf

Alex laughed at one of your jokes as Franco looked over some of the data from his crash. After a while, you walked over, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him from behind. 

“Hi bebé,” he smiled, tired, but happy to see you. “How are you?”

You groaned. “Alex keeps flirting with me.”

His ears pricked up hearing you say that. “Alex?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. He turned to you. 

“Should I ask him to stop? I can talk to him-”

“It’s alright, I made him aware of the fact that I’m not interested,” you explained. 

“Oh, alright,” he shrugged. “Once you’re happy.”

He went back to looking over the data and you frowned. No reaction? No possessiveness?

“You don’t mind?” you questioned. 

“That he was flirting with you?” he asked, you nodded. “No, not really. I’m the one you’ve chosen for 3 years. We love each other, sí?” 

You nodded. 

“So we’re fine,” he smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

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Logan Sargeant: also a bit upset…

He sighed as he watched Alex chat to you, a smirk on his face. You were his girlfriend, Alex couldn’t have you. Alex had James, Alex had Williams, Alex had the talent. Logan had you. Alex couldn’t have you. 

You glanced back at Logan, who had grown quieter in recent moments, and you frowned. His eyes were blown up, wide-eyed, mouth open, and his mind was thousands of miles away. You politely ended the conversation with Alex, dragging Logan back into his driver's room with a concerned expression. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, trying to play it off. “I”m fine, just… tired.”

You frowned again. “Logan, you can talk to me.” 

He shook his head, his hands gripping your waist, then the dam broke and he rested his head on your shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you if I lose this.”

Your heart broke. “Logan you’d-“

“No, please just let me talk,” he whispered. “I love you, more than anything. We both know I’m getting replaced either after or during this season,” hearing him say it as such a definite, hurt you. You knew how badly Williams had messed him up, but to hear him so defeated? You could’ve cried. “And I don’t want to lose you if I lose all of this. I love racing, but I love you more. You’ve been here through everything, always. You’re always here for me, and I just hope I haven’t fucked this whole relationship up with all my mental health stuff and being a bad driver-”

“Logan,” your tone was stern. “I love you. I love you, my Logan. I support ‘F1 driver Logan Sargeant’, and you’ll always be that, but I love Logan Sargeant, the boy who asked me out when I was 14 and never looked back, the boy who has made me feel loved and supported since that day, the boy who fought an uphill battle and is only now realising he’s allowed to let the boulder fall. I love that you’re a fighter. I love that you’re a driver. But I love most that you care about and love me. I care more about your mental health than any money or fame you could ever gain. I’m not asking you to keep putting yourself through this, Logan. I want you to be healthy and happy. I want you to smile again. I want to see the real you again.”

“What is the real me if I’m not winning?” his voice was just below a whisper. 

“You get to figure that out,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Now please look at me Logan, so you know that I’m telling the truth.”

He raised his head, his eyes watery as he looked at yours, and for the first time in a while, he actually felt like it might all be ok. 

Granted, only when he was with you, but alright all the same. 

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Daniel Riccardo: freaky wit it

Daniel gripped his steering wheel harder, his knuckles turning white under his gloves. He was in the car, meant to be in the zone, but all he could think about was the way that Yuki had a hand on your back. He knew Yuki definitely wasn’t a threat to him or his relationship, but it still felt shitty not being able to get over there and show him that you were his. 

He rushed out of the car, exhausted after bringing the VCarb in Q3 yet again, and immediately his hands were on you. 

“Looking so good today baby,” he whispered between kisses. “So fuckin’ pretty for me.”

You groaned against his lips, smiling. “Yeah?” 

“Oh yeah baby, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he smirked as he pushed a hand into your underwear. Your eyes went wide and you clapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from moaning too loud. You weren’t even in his drivers room, you were doing it against Yuki’s door in the hallway. 

“We should-fuck- we should go to your r-room,” you stuttered out as he rubbed your clit in lazy circles. 

“Why?” he smirked. “When I could have you right here and now,” he punctuated every word with a kiss, moving your hand and swallowing your moans as he sped up. “So fuckin’ beautiful so me.”

“Dan,” you moaned as he finally pushed a finger in. 

“So wet for me too. You like doing it like this? Where anyone could hear you? Anyone could see us?” he knew his words were falling on deaf ears as he revelled in the fact that he got to watch you fall apart for him. He got to make you cum, he got to kiss you, he heard every laugh, saw every part of you and your personality. It was him who you picked to love, and be loved in return. 

And by God, he wouldn’t trade you for the world. 

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Liam Lawson: angry sex anyone???

Liam grabbed your hand, pulling you into his drivers room after he had watched Yuki give you heart-eyes yet again. 

“That fucking dick,” he seethed, pressing his body against yours, pressing kisses up and down your neck. “Always fuckin’ wants what’s mine.” 

“Liam,” you whimpered as he pushed you down on the bed. “Please.”

Any and all control of himself was abandoned, and he pulled his race suit off, watching as you pulled off your dress. 

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he cursed, climbing on top of you as he smirked. “You’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slowly pushed inside you. It burned, in the best way. “All yours.”

He smiled. “That’s my girl, taking me so well.”

Once he was fully inside and you were comfortable, he was thrusting in and out of you at a rate previously unknown to Liam. Did he like fast and rough sex? Yes. Was it ever this fast? No. Was it ever this rough? … no comment. He was grabbing and smacking all over your ass and tits, you were too busy gripping onto his hair as he used you how he pleased, all the while cursing out Yuki and praising you. 

You both left the driver’s room a little bit less steady than before, but much more satisfied than going in. Liam felt better too, since he’d given you something to show just how much he meant it when he said he was yours, and you were his. That something stayed dripping down your leg as Liam finished the race, ahead of Yuki. 

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Charles LeClerc: death?

He watched, the light in his eyes slowly dying, as you spoke animatedly to Carlos. 

Carlos Sainz, now number one enemy of Charles LeClerc. 

Honestly, he knew you’d never choose anyone over him, you loved him and he knew that. Still, some voice inside of him continued to urge him to run over to you two and scream ‘mine’ and then run off with you. He didn’t, obviously. He knew you would’ve been mad at him if he did. 

As the day continued, you stayed talking to Carlos, every so often, Charles would interject with a sarcastic comment, or some stupid fact about you, then following it up with ‘yeah, I know more than you’. It turned the two of them into school children. Both of them coming to you at different times of the day with random facts about random things, until you finally told them both to stop and share their love of facts with each other, not you. You had gotten so frustrated with the two of them, that you didn’t even want to speak to Charles. 

They both stopped after that. 

Any time Charles was jealous after that palaver? Yeah, he just stuck with the regular PDA overload. He didn’t want to deal with another sex ban. 

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Carlos Sainz: also freaky wit it

His gaze darkened as he watched Charles put a hand on your shoulder. Bullshit. You were his girlfriend. You were his. 

“Querida, stop fucking with me,” he demanded, a tight hold on your arm as he dragged you into his hotel room, 30 minutes later. 

You scoffed. “I’m shockingly not fucking with you at all,” you smiled, annoyed but unsurprised at his shitty behaviour. “In fact, I was being perfectly nice to everyone, including you, all night.”

He watched as you sat on the bed, exasperated and tired of his behaviour. He noticed how you quickly pulled off your heel, took down your hair and sighed, staring at him. 

“What?” you asked. “What did I do now?”

Part of him left bad, it wasn’t your fault that you were irresistible. It wasn’t your fault that Charles thought he could have whatever he wanted. It wasn’t your fault that you had to be kind, just to keep up appearances. It still made his blood boil, but he did appreciate the fact that it wasn’t technically your fault. 

But someone had to help him get rid of all of this pent up tension. 

“On your knees,” he spoke, his voice low and laced with desire. Your eyes widened, but you did as he said anyway and sank down to your knees in front of him, “It’s going to be a long night, querida. I can’t wait to see your pretty makeup smudged,” he smiled sadistically as you tried to not be as turned on as you were. 

I guess you two were a match made in heaven, or maybe hell. 

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Arthur LeClerc: plays his jealousy off… (not)

He grabbed a handful of your ass, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to yours as you yelped. You had been unsuspecting as you leaned over the guest barrier, trying to hear what Manuel was saying to you, when Arthur had caught his other teammate, Charles, staring at you with a smirk. 

You shoved him off after a few seconds and stared at him, waiting for an explanation. 

He shrugged. “Je voulais t'embrasser,” (I wanted to kiss you). “Is that a crime?”

“When you’re doing it like that, yes,” you chuckled, amused by his jealousy. 

“What?’ he smirked. “You don’t like it?” he teased. 

You rolled your eyes. “Arthur LeClerc,” your tone was warning. “Don’t push it,” you leaned in closer, whispering. “Tout le monde n'est pas aussi obsédé par moi que toi, arrête d'être jaloux.” (Not everyone is as obsessed with me as you, stop being jealous).

He laughed. “Tu es irrésistible,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “I cannot help it!” You gave him the finger as he walked away, and he blew you a kiss.

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Ollie Bearman: a bit upset…

He literally hit his head against the desk as he watched Kimi flash you his signature smile. He was sick of it. You were his girlfriend, not Kimi's best friend. You were his girlfriend. Alas, he couldn’t exactly whisk you away, you were his race engineer after all, and this was a strategy meeting, so he sucked it up and paid attention, trying not to look at you. 

You’d noticed how low Ollie had been all day and caught up with him as you walked out of the strategy meeting. “You alright?” you asked, wrapping one his arms around your shoulders as you walked beside him, away from the rest of the group. 

“I’m alright,” he lied, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes on his lips. You frowned. 

“Please talk to me,” you begged. “I don’t like it when you shut me out.”

He sighed. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not,” you smiled. “I’m sure it’s not Ollie, just talk to me.”

“I don’t like how close Kimi is to you,” he admitted. “I’m… It makes me jealous sometimes.”

Your face softened. “So I’ll put some distance,” you shrugged. “Easy.”

He did a double-take. “N-no I- you don’t have to do-”

“Ollie. I want us to work, and if that means I have to ask Kimi to back off a little bit, then I’ll do it, yeah?”

Ollie nodded. “I’m sorry-”

“Shut up and kiss me, Bearman,” you rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your lips to his. 

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Max Verstappen: ummm guys???

Max would be an insufferable child. He would literally hide their gloves and racing shoes, he would put dish-soap in their bottle, he’d somehow fuck up their laundry, and all because they looked at you too long. You were his, why would anyone else think you were available. 

There he was, on live, racing with his team, when you came over with another can of redbull for him. He’d been focused on the game, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glimpse of his teammate, Luke’s stream. He saw him checking you out. 

He saw red. 

“Luke, do you need something or do you just like staring at my girlfriend?” he scoffed and you groaned. He wasn’t unknown to make scenes in public. 

“Max,” you groaned. “Please don’t.”

He rolled his eyes and settled for a kiss on the cheek while Luke just blushed. Max understood where he was coming from, you were fucking gorgeous. That still didn’t make it right though. 

Again, a little while later, he caught Luke staring at you as you sat in the back of his set up, watching the race silently. 

“Seriously Luke, do I need to turn off my camera or can you act like an adult and keep it in your pants?” He scoffed. “Het is onzin,”(it’s bullshit) he sighed.

“Max, calm down,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, muting his mic. “Who gives a fuck about Luke?”

He groaned, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he admitted. 

“I’m a big girl, I’ll be alright,” you smiled, kissing him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled, then went back to his racing, though he did push Luke off the track (in the game) a few (7) times. 

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Paul Aron: he trusts you. 

He sighed, watching Armaury place a hand on your waist. Was he losing you?

Then he smiled as he watched you shove him off, shouting in his face. You were a big girl, you could handle yourself. You didn’t always need Paul to come in and protect you, he loved that about you. He felt his sense of pride growing as you walked over, still shouting at his teammate who was looking increasingly guilty and uncomfortable, even more so when you ran over to Paul and kissed him right there and then, in front of everyone. 

Yeah, he really had nothing to worry about. 

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Lance Stroll: mf he is scary. 

Lance smirked as he watched James (a friend of his) wrap an arm around your waist as you danced with a couple friends. Your face screwed up into one of disgust, and you politely excused yourself to get another drink. James sauntered over to Lance, a smug smile on his face. 

“Might want to keep your lady on a tighter leash,” he smirked. 

“Oh yeah?” Lance cocked an eyebrow. 

“Yeah man, she was dancing all over me!” he chuckled. “Seriously, I’d steal if she wasn’t such a-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he told him, his tone dangerous. “My girlfriend is exactly that, my girlfriend. If you want to go dance with her and make her uncomfortable, that’s your prerogative, but don’t be surprised when I punch you for it.”

His ‘friend’ left quickly after that. He didn’t bother you again. 

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Jack Doohan: maybe a bit angry…

He scoffed as he watched Pierre try yet another pick-up line on you and he felt himself get even angrier. Yes, he was the new guy. Yes, he should definitely bite his tongue and suck it up. Did he do that? No…

He went over to you and wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your head as Pierre’s face fell into a frown. 

“Oh, you two are-!” He started.

“Together? Yeah. 3 years, right babe?” He smiled, a little too smiley for regular Jack.

“3 years, sounds right,” you nodded. “Nice to meet you Pierre,” you smiled before walking off, away from the two of them. Jack followed behind you and you sighed. “You’re an idiot.”

“It’s not my fault I have a hot girlfriend,” he defended. 

“It’s not my fault I’m the hot girlfriend!” You laughed. “Just… keep your jealousy to yourself in the future!”

He grabbed onto your waist a pleading look in his eye. “But you make it so hard…”

“Don’t give me ‘fuck me’ eyes right now Jack Doohan,” you scoffed, pushing him off. “You are such a child.”

He chuckled, happy with himself. 

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[crushpunky]

drew’s lockscreen of actress!reader

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is something a bit new— a sort of social media au / short fic based off an ask. let me know what you guys think <3

Though the video was a bit blurry and quick, the girl on Drew’s lockscreen was undoubtedly y/n. Wearing one of Drew’s button downs, her hair swept back by the wind and a smile on her face, y/n struck a pose on the beach. Behind her, the sun met the ocean, casting golden light that kissed y/n’s skin and bathed her in an ethereal light. The photo and memory was one of Drew’s favorites, and each time he opened his phone he was reminded of it.

He had just gotten back home to Charleston to prepare to shoot Outer Banks following his time away while filming Queer in Italy. Any amount of worry or stress that loomed over him about his hectic filming schedule quickly evaporated when y/n picked him up from the airport, her dazzling smile wide and voice like music to his ears. The two of them spent the rest of the day making up for “lost time”, the couple mostly sticking to the confines of their bedroom until they finally decided to take a break and make the trek down to the beach to watch the sunset.

The sun was hanging low over the Carolina landscape, the only sounds the lull of the ocean and the swaying of the trees in the breeze.

“Didn’t realize how much I missed these beaches.” Drew said with a sigh, looking down at y/n with a grin. The two of them walked through the sand hand in hand, swinging their hands between the two of them rhythmically as they approached the water.

“The beach you took me to when I visited was pretty nice.” Y/n said with a smirk, raising her eyebrows up at Drew playfully. One of the times y/n had come to see Drew when he was filming, he had surprised her with a day at the beach. The only problem was, Drew hadn’t researched quite thoroughly enough, and the two of them ended up hiking to a nude beach. Flustered and fearful of the prying eyes of fans or the paparazzi, the two of them had to hike all the way back to town with their unused beach gear. Instead, they opted to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the city hand in hand. Even if the day hadn’t gone quite how they expected, they got to spend it together and that was all they really wanted.

“Haha, very funny.” Drew rolled his eyes playfully, pulling the beach towel out from under his arm and laying it down in a spot near the surf. Smoothing it out, Drew sat down before offering a hand up to y/n. With a giggle, y/n took his hand before sitting down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Drew’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against his side.

“These sunsets weren’t quite as fun to watch without you.” Y/n said quietly, peering up at Drew. He looked down at her with a grin, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose before burying his face into her hair. Y/n could hear the steady thrum of Drew’s heart in her ear, his fingers tracing gently along her back in a way that made her cheeks warm.

“I’m happy to be back.” Drew whispered into y/n’s hair. The two of them sat in silence, basking in each other's presence, as the sun drew closer and closer to the horizon. Suddenly, an idea popped into Drew’s mind, his hand reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“Get up real quick. I wanna do something.” Drew smiled, climbing to his feet. Once more, he offered his hand out to y/n, who took it gratefully as she rose to stand next to him. Drew stood still, his eyes locked on y/n and a cheesy grin on his face.

“What?” Y/n chuckled, placing her hands on her hips as she faced Drew. With a gentle touch, Drew shifted her over to stand with her back to the surf, the setting sun illuminating her and the beach in an orange glow. Without another word and a lovestruck grin still on his face, Drew picked up his phone and pointed the camera towards y/n.

“Strike a pose for me, baby.” Drew grinned. Y/n smiled for the photo, not moving from her position.

“C’mon… please?” Drew said sweetly, his grin apparent in his tone. With a groan and a playful roll of her eyes, y/n popped her hip out in an exaggerated pose that caused Drew to let out a chuckle as he snapped a photo. Looking closely at the photo, Drew could feel his heart swell. Y/n looked so positively radiant, so positively y/n, the personality and beauty Drew fell in love with, all captured in just a single frame.

“Are you done?” Y/n asked, tearing Drew’s eyes away from his phone. He nodded before looking back down at the photo with a grin.

“Lemme see.” Y/n teased, coming towards Drew and raising up onto her tiptoes to peer at his phone.

“I think this is the best photo I’ve ever seen.” Drew whispered, causing y/n to giggle as she looked up at him. Quickly swiping through his settings, Drew set the photo as his lock screen. Turning his phone off, he turned it back on to display his new lock screen. The two of them laughed lightly before Drew put the phone back in his pocket.

“My little model.” Drew said, pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek before lifting her in his arms. She let out a giggle, perhaps Drew’s favorite sound, as he spun her in the golden light of the beach. With a sigh, Drew sat her feet back down into the sand, his hands still wrapped firmly around her waist as he stared at her intently.

Despite being firmly on the ground again, y/n swore her head was still spinning because of the way Drew was looking at her: his eyes so wide, scanning over every inch of her, the icy blue bathed in a golden glow from the sun. Y/n reached up, wrapping her arms around Drew’s neck and smiling up at him. Slowly, Drew leaned in and pressed his lips to her own, his familiar taste caused her smile to widen. Curling her fingers into his hair, y/n pulled him even closer, savoring the beautiful moment the two of them were sharing… and wouldn’t soon forget thanks to Drew’s new lock screen.

[hurtblossom]

When we grow old ln4

Pairing : Lando Norris x Female!reader

Summary: Interviewer asks you how you see your relationship in the future, and your answer leaves everyone speech less.

Warning: Fluff, people being disgustingly in love, bad english.

This is based of an interview i watched on tiktok, and on Kylie's and Travis's video on GQ

masterlist

Lando and Y/N had been together for almost a year now. From the moment they met, it was as if the universe had aligned just for them. They spent nearly every moment they could together, whether at his apartment or hers. Y/N never missed a race, always there in the stands or watching anxiously from the paddock, her heart swelling with pride. She was his biggest supporter, not just on the track but in every aspect of his life.

For Y/N, Lando was everything she had ever dreamed of in a partner. She was convinced that he was her soulmate, the one she was meant to spend her life with. Nothing and no one could make her believe otherwise. Lando wasn’t shy about showing his love for her either. He spoke about her with a tenderness that made everyone around him smile. Whenever he had the chance to mention her, he did, his eyes lighting up with every word. He defended her fiercely whenever someone had something negative to say about her or their relationship. Y/N was deeply in love with him, and every day, she hoped that he felt the same way.

When Y/N received an invitation to join Lando for an interview, she was genuinely surprised. She wasn’t accustomed to the spotlight; her world had always been more private. Although she had social media, most of her followers were there because of Lando.

And so, she found herself seated in a chair across from him, a gentle hum of anticipation in the air. Someone adjusted the mic on her shirt, making sure her voice would be captured clearly. As she sat there, waiting for the cameras to start rolling, she stole a glance at Lando. He looked at her with that familiar warmth, the kind that made her feel like she was the only person in the room.

"Hey everyone, I’m Lando, and this is my girlfriend Y/N. We’re here with GQ, ready to answer some questions about our relationship," Lando began, his smile wide and genuine, the kind that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

“So, first question: how did we meet?” Y/N read aloud from a card she had been given before the interview. She looked at Lando, a playful glint in her eye. “Do you want to answer that?”

“Yeah.” Lando smiled softly at her, his gaze full of affection. “For those who don’t know, Y/N here is McLaren’s official Social Media Manager. She started working with the team about a year and a half ago, and yeah, I met her during her very first meeting with us, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“That’s correct, Mister Norris,” Y/N said, her tone light but filled with pride. Lando raised his hand for a high five, and she gladly met it.

“Okay, my turn. What was our first date, and what was our last? And which one did you enjoy the most?” he asked, tossing the flashcard behind him with a playful grin.

“Our first date was when you took me out to an Italian restaurant. You dressed all fancy,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling at the memory. “And the last one was two days ago; we went to your yacht and just sat there, watching the sunset.” Her voice softened, a smile tugging at her lips. “I can’t pick which one I preferred; honestly, every moment with you feels like a blessing.”

Lando’s smile grew tender. “That’s really sweet, baby.”

“Okay, next question!” Y/N announced with a playful energy that made Lando chuckle. “What are three things you love and hate about each other?”

“Well, that one’s easy,” Lando replied instantly. “I love your smile, your eyes, and your laugh. They light up my world. As for the three things I hate… I’d have to say your impatience, how easily you get mad, and the fact that you hold grudges.”

“That was quick,” Y/N said, raising an amused eyebrow. “I guess it’s my turn. So, I love your determination—how you never give up on what you do, even when it seems impossible. I love that you have a big heart and wear it on your sleeve. And your eyes… you have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen, and I could get lost in them forever. Now, for the things I hate: you tend to take things too personally, you can be just a tad too flirty, and… your sense of humor.”

“My sense of humor? What’s wrong with it?” he asked, feigning shock.

“You’re just not that funny, baby,” Y/N teased, shrugging playfully, her eyes twinkling with affection.

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I’ll work on my jokes.”

Y/N picked up the next flashcard. “Here’s a good one: What’s something surprising you’ve learned about me since we started dating?”

Lando paused for a moment, thinking. “Honestly, I think the most surprising thing I’ve learned is just how incredibly strong you are. I mean, I always knew you were tough, but seeing how you handle everything—whether it’s work stress, being in the public eye, or supporting me through all the ups and downs—has been amazing. You never let anything break you, and that’s something I admire so much.”

Y/N felt her heart swell with emotion. “Thank you, Lando. That means a lot coming from you.”

She cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice steady as she read the next question. “What’s your favorite memory of us together?”

“That’s a tough one,” Lando said, smiling as he reminisced. “But I think it would have to be that weekend we spent in the countryside, just the two of us. No cameras, no phones, no distractions—just us. We went hiking, had a picnic by the lake, and at night, we watched the stars. It was simple, but it was perfect. It was one of those moments where I just felt… complete.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes misty with tears. “I remember that weekend. It was beautiful.”

Lando reached out, taking her hand in his. “We should do that more often—just escape from everything and be together.”

“Definitely,” Y/N agreed, squeezing his hand. “Okay, here’s the next question: What’s something you wish we could do together in the future?”

Lando thought for a moment before answering. “I’d love for us to travel more, see the world together. There are so many places I want to explore with you, and I think it would be amazing to share those experiences. But more than that, I just want us to keep building a life together, no matter where we go.”

Y/N smiled softly. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, last question,” Lando said, his tone growing more serious. “And this one’s just for you, Y/N: how do you see this relationship evolving?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart beating a little faster as she thought about the future. “Oh, that’s a hard one. How do I see this relationship evolving? Well, first of all, I’d like for us to stay together, to grow old… without sounding like a complete psycho,” she began, her voice wavering slightly with emotion.

“You’re fine; go on,” he encouraged her, his eyes never leaving hers, filled with a deep, unwavering love.

“If one day we end up on different paths—and I really hope that never happens, because seriously, you’re everything to me—I know I won’t want anyone else,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “But if life does pull us apart, I don’t want us to hate each other or lose all the good memories we made. I want you to remember me with a smile, and I’ll always wish you the best, because I’d never want anything bad for you. You’re my first real love, Lando, and what we have is something I know I’ll never feel with anyone else.”

She paused for a moment, her heart racing as she took a deep breath. “So, with that said,” she added with a little laugh, “let’s just agree to never break up, okay? Because honestly, that would be super awkward and totally heartbreaking for both of us.”

Her words hung in the air, filled with the raw, honest emotion of young love, and Lando couldn’t help but smile at her attempt to lighten the mood, even though he knew how deeply she meant every word.

He was quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in. He looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with love and something deeper—determination.

“GQ, I think we’re done here,” Lando finally said, his voice steady but with a clear edge of emotion. “Because what I have to say now, I want her to know it’s real.”

He turned to Y/N, taking her hands in his as if grounding himself in the moment. “You’ve always been the one for me, Y/N. From the very beginning, I knew there was something about you that I couldn’t let go of, and that hasn’t changed. Hearing you talk about different paths… it scares me, because I don’t want to imagine my life without you in it.”

He paused, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of her hand. “But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m not just in love with you; I’m committed to us. I’m committed to making sure that we keep growing together, facing whatever life throws our way. I can’t promise that everything will be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll always fight for us.”

Lando’s voice softened, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’re my first love, Y/N, and I want you to be my last. I want to share every moment, every milestone, and every challenge with you. I want us to look back one day, gray and wrinkled, and say, ‘We did this together.’ Because you’re it for me. You always have been, and you always will be.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, letting the moment linger. When he pulled back, there was a quiet intensity in his eyes, a promise unspoken but deeply felt.

“So let’s stop worrying about different paths,” he whispered, “and focus on the one we’re on, together. Because I’m not letting go, not now, not ever.”

the end

plot twist : he cheated, so they broke up... men 🍵 (jk😞)

[puckstories]

Surrender | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Smut (p n v), spanking (once), cursing, use of the term 'good girl', situationship, slight angst, edited once.

Summary; A brutal loss to the Bruins leads to Quinn showing up at your apartment at one am, and subsequently changes everything. Title and fic is slightly inspired by the song Surrender by Kut Klose.

Word Count; 8.8k

Author’s note; This was my first time writing smut! But weirdly, I found it easier to write than fluff..? That being said, hopefully this isn't too bad, and any constructive criticism is appreciated. This morphed into something more complicated and detailed than I originally planned, but I like it nonetheless. Would love to hear any thoughts you have + reblogs are super appreciated. Feel free hit my inbox with anything (: -Honey.

You and Quinn had been casually seeing each other for the past couple of months. It hadn’t been planned, not really. You’d met him at a bar one night—a place with dim lighting and sticky floors, the air humming with laughter and bass-heavy music. One of those rare evenings when the stars seemed to align just right. He was sitting alone, nursing a drink, the brim of his black New York hat pulled low enough to make him look just anonymous enough to the crowd. He’d caught your eye almost immediately, and when his gaze found yours across the room, something about the way he smiled—confident but a little hesitant—had you walking over before you even realized it.

Things had taken off quickly after that. A few drinks. Easy conversation. A kiss outside the bar that turned into more. He was charming in a quiet, unassuming way, and that first night left you with a lingering curiosity about him. Who he was when the spotlight wasn’t on him. What made him laugh, what kept him awake at night. So you kept seeing him. Not all the time, not in any way that felt serious. Just enough to keep the connection alive.

The two of you hadn’t given it a label. You both avoided that conversation like it was a landmine. And maybe, in a way, it was. You weren’t sure if you wanted one. Quinn was busy—the kind of busy that came with being the Captain of the Vancouver Canucks. His schedule was a whirlwind of practices, games, and media appearances, leaving little room for anything beyond fleeting moments of downtime late at night. And you… well, you weren’t ready to completely settle down, not after the way your last relationship had crumbled in slow, messy pieces that you were still picking up. Casual worked. Casual was safe.

Most of the time, anyway.

But even as you told yourself that this thing with Quinn was simple—just hooking up, just having fun—you couldn’t help but notice the little cracks forming in your resolve. The way his laugh made something tighten in your chest. The way you’d catch yourself replaying the way his hand brushed yours in the middle of a crowded street or the soft, sleepy rasp of his voice when he called you late at night after a game. There was something disarming about him, something unshakable about the way he looked at you, like he saw more than you were willing to admit.

You weren’t sure if he felt it, too, or if it was just you overthinking things. After all, he’d never brought up the future, and you’d been careful not to either. That was the unspoken rule between you two: keep things light. But sometimes—when he was kissing you slow and deep, or when he let himself talk about the pressure of wearing the “C” on his chest, his voice quieter and more vulnerable than you’d ever expected—you wondered if casual was really all it was for him. Or for you.

The Canucks lost at home to the Bruins tonight, 5-1. You’d watched from your couch, wincing with every missed opportunity, every puck that found its way past the goalie. It wasn’t just the loss that stung—it was the way the team seemed to unravel by the second period. You’d seen Quinn’s frustration in the tight set of his jaw, the way he skated harder than anyone else on the ice, and the slump of his shoulders every time the Bruins scored. You hated watching him like that, knowing how much weight he carried—not just as a player, but as Captain.

When the final buzzer sounded, you’d grabbed your phone and sent him a quick text: Hey. You alright?

The message stayed unread for a while. And then, sometime after eleven, the little “seen” mark popped up. No reply, and in turn, you got the hint. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, and you respected that. Losses like this were hard on him, you'd found that out early on. Instead of pressing, you sighed, plugged your phone in, and climbed into bed, trying not to let the silence sting.

What you didn’t expect was the banging on your front door a little after one am.

The sound jolted you upright, your heart pounding for a moment. You threw on a hoodie over your nightgown and padded toward the door, trying to shake the grogginess from your head. The knocking came again, sharper this time. When you opened the door, you found Quinn standing there in the dim hallway light.

He was dressed in gray sweatpants and a hoodie, the strings pulled tight, but it did little to hide his messy hair and the lingering flush in his cheeks from the game. Your eyes immediately caught on his lip, the one that had been split a few games ago after a nasty high stick. The stitches still hadn’t fully healed, and the fresh redness around them drew your attention before you looked up into his face.

What struck you wasn’t the exhaustion that usually followed a loss. It was something heavier—a mixture of frustration, exasperation, and something else that made your breath hitch. His hazel eyes held a quiet intensity, a sharp edge of need that made your stomach flutter.

“Hey,” he rasped, his voice low and strained from the act of speaking to his teammates throughout the game.

You blinked, still processing the sight of him on your doorstep. “I texted you,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended, but the weight of his presence makes it hard to sound as firm as you want to. “You didn’t respond.”

For a moment, Quinn doesn’t answer, and his eyes meet yours briefly, before flicking away, as though searching for something in the shadows of your apartment. He doesn’t say a word, just steps forward, his broad frame brushing past you as he crosses the threshold into your space.

He lets the door click shut behind him, the sound heavy in the stillness of the room. Then, he turns, his eyes locking onto yours again with an intensity that sends your pulse racing. He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, his gaze sweeps over you, slow and deliberate, as though he’s taking in every detail: the loose sweatshirt you’d thrown on over your nightgown, the way your hair is slightly messy, your bare feet against the cool floor. His jaw tightens, and something about the way he looks at you makes the air feel heavier, thicker.

“I’m aware,” he finally says, voice clipped, almost sharp, but there’s something under them—something softer, quieter, that you can’t quite name.

“By all means, come in,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you cross your arms.

He doesn’t bother with a reply. Instead, something in him snaps—an instinct he doesn’t even try to fight.

His hands move fast, gripping your hips with a firm possessiveness that makes your breath hitch. His fingers dig into you just enough to let you know he’s not asking for permission. Before you can get another word out, he steps forward, backing you up with purposeful, controlled force. The edge of the wall meets your back a second later, as he presses flush against you. There’s no space, no hesitation—just him, all hard muscle and raw need, caging you in.

He leans in close, his forehead nearly brushing yours, his breath warm and unsteady against your lips. You can feel the tension radiating off him, coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. “Need you. Now,” he whispers, the words vibrating between the two of you. It’s not a question. It’s not even a request. It’s a demand.

You swallow hard, your pulse hammering in your ears as the heat of his body presses harder into yours. His hands slide up from your hips, one settling at the small of your back while the other moves higher, his thumb brushing just beneath the curve of your ribcage. His touch is both possessive and reverent, as though he’s caught between devouring you and savoring the moment.

“Been too busy for me lately,” you say with a shrug, the casualness of your tone masking the twinge of hurt that’s harder to ignore than you’d like.

Quinn’s grip on your hip tightens at your words, his fingers pressing firmly against your skin as though he’s holding on to more than just you—maybe his own guilt, maybe his frustration. His jaw tenses, but when his eyes meet yours, you see the softness creeping in around the edges. He wants to say something; you can see it written all over his face, but the words don’t come. Instead, his grip loosens slightly, his hand dropping lower, brushing along your thigh.

Without a word, he lifts your leg, gently hooking it around his his. The movement is slow but claculated, sending a jolt of heat through you as his body presses closer, the fabric of his sweatpants brushing against your bare skin. He shifts his weight, grinding up against you with enough intention to leave no doubt about what he’s feeling—or what he wants. His hand rests at the back of your thigh now, his thumb stroking your skin absently, but his eyes never leave yours.

“You know how it is,” he mutters finally, his voice low and rough, an excuse and a half-apology tangled into one. “The team. Home games. It’s been… a lot.”

You raise an eyebrow, but don't push. “Yeah, I know,” you reply, your voice calm but edged with something sharper. “You guys got whacked tonight.”

The words leave your lips before you can think better of it, and the second they do, you see the change in his expression. His eyes darken, the dejection that was there moments ago replaced by something sharper, something simmering just below the surface. His jaw tightens again, the muscle there ticking as he presses his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t need the reminder. He already knows.

“Don’t,” he mutters, his voice low and strained, but there’s an edge in it that sends a ripple of tension through the air. You open your mouth, maybe to push further, maybe to soften it with a tease, but you don’t get the chance. Before you can say another word, Quinn’s hands are suddenly moving up to your waist. He grabs you with a firm, almost desperate grip, and in one swift motion, he lifts you clean off the ground. A surprised gasp escapes your lips, your hands instinctively flying to his shoulders as he pulls you tight against him. The hard plane of his chest presses flush against your body, and you can feel the tension radiating off him—the frustration, the lingering adrenaline from the game, the sharp need to shut everything else out.

“Quinn—” you start, but your voice wavers, the rest of the sentence dissolving when his eyes meet yours.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he hisses, his voice rough, laced with frustration and something more primal. His words are both an explanation and a command. He doesn’t want to think about the game, the loss, the disappointment—it’s written all over him. He needs a distraction, and right now, that’s you.

He doesn’t set you down. Instead, he starts walking, carrying you through the dimly lit hallway toward your bedroom. The way he moves is deliberate, controlled, but there’s an urgency in the way his grip tightens slightly on your waist, as though holding you this close is the only thing keeping him steady. Your legs wrap around him, and you hold onto him instinctively, your heart pounding harder with every step.

When he reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. Quinn leans down, lowering you onto the bed with ease. The mattress dips under your weight as he releases you, but his hands don’t leave your body. They slide to your hips, pinning you in place as he hovers over you, his broad frame blocking out everything else.

Quinn’s eyes trail over you, unhurried, drinking you in like he’s committing every inch of you to memory. His gaze burns as it moves from your eyes to your lips, and then down, raking over your body like a slow caress. The heat in his expression makes your skin prickle, anticipation coiling low in your stomach. His body hovers just inches above yours, close enough for you to feel his warmth but far enough that it makes you ache for the weight of him against you.

His hands move slowly, his fingers grazing your sides as they find the hem of your hoodie. He pauses for just a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as though silently asking for permission. When you give a small nod, barely noticeable but enough, he takes hold of the fabric and begins to pull it up, his knuckles brushing against your skin as he lifts it over your stomach, then your chest. His touch is light, but the way his eyes darken as he reveals more of you sends a shiver down your spine. “Too many clothes,” he mutters, the words are more for himself than for you.

The black satin nightgown clings to you, its thin straps sliding slightly off your shoulders. The soft fabric shimmers faintly in the dim light, hugging your curves in a way that makes his throat tighten. His jaw clenches, his hands hovering for a moment as if he’s not sure where to touch first. His fingers finally settle at the strap on your shoulder, pushing it down slowly, deliberately, his thumb brushing against your skin. The contrast of the cool satin and the warmth of his hand sends a jolt through you. "Gorgeous." He murmurs.

Your breath catches at his words, but before you can respond, his lips find the exposed skin just above the neckline of your nightgown, his breath warm and ragged against you. He presses a slow, open mouthed kiss there, his hands sliding down to your waist as he pulls you closer, his body finally pressing against yours. His lips trail lower, brushing along your collarbone, as his hands slide back up, slipping under the hem of your nightgown now. His fingers splay out against your bare skin, calloused from years of hockey but impossibly gentle as they explore. He pulls back just enough to look at you again, his gaze searching yours, a silent question lingering in the air. His thumb strokes your hip in small, absent circles, like he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop—or to keep going.

“Quinn,” you murmur. Your hands come up to rest against his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. His heart pounds beneath your palm, fast and unsteady, matching the erratic rhythm of your own. “Please.”

That’s all he needs. With a low groan, he dips his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and consuming, like he’s savoring every second. His hands roam your body now with more certainty, the hesitation from earlier replaced with an unrelenting hunger. The feel of him, the weight of his touch, the heat of his breath—it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

He pulls away with a low curse, his breath warm and unsteady as he tilts his head back slightly. A wince flickers across his face, his hand instinctively brushing over the stitches on his upper lip—the ones cutting across the soft curve of his cupid’s bow. The kiss has aggravated them, pulling at the tender, partially healed skin. His jaw clenches, the frustration obvious in the tight set of his features, but he doesn’t move away from you. If anything, he lingers, his body still hovering over yours, his eyes locking onto yours like he’s grounding himself in the moment.

"Careful." You warn, your fingers reaching up to lightly trace the scruff on his jaw.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, but his voice is rough, tinged with annoyance—not at you, but at the injury that’s getting in the way of what he wants.

Taking the opportunity, you tug gently at the hem of his hoodie, your hands curling into the soft fabric. He looks down, his eyes following the movement of your hands as you gesture, silently telling him you want it off. There’s no hesitation this time. He straightens slightly, pulling the hoodie over his head in one fluid motion, the fabric lifting to reveal the lean, pale skin of his torso. The garment lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten along with yours, as he leans back down, closer to you, his hands bracing themselves on either side of your head. “Better?” He murmurs.

Your hands drift to the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingertips brushing against the soft fabric. "Almost." Your eyes never leave his as you speak, holding his gaze with a quiet intensity that makes his breath hitch.

His lips curve into the faintest smirk, and without hesitation, he shifts, moving from hovering over you to falling back onto the bed beside you. The mattress dips under his weight as his hands go to his waistband, pushing the sweatpants down his hips with an easy, practiced motion. He kicks them off in one fluid movement, the boxers following close behind. The rustle of fabric hitting the floor is faint, but the sight of him—completely bare now—propped up on an elbow, looking at you, steals your attention entirely.

Leaning up to reach over, you place your hands on his shoulders, your palms firm as you give him a gentle shove. He lets out a soft grunt as his back hits the mattress fully, his lips twitching into a faint smile at the sudden assertiveness. You slip off your panties, before shifting your body, swinging your leg over him until you’re straddling his hips, your knees pressing into the mattress. His hands instinctively move to your waist, but you grab his wrists, pinning them lightly to the bed on either side of him. His eyebrows lift slightly, the hint of a challenge in his expression, but he doesn’t fight you. Instead, he lets you guide the moment, his muscles relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of his skin beneath you is intoxicating, and the way his body responds—his chest rising just a little faster, his hands twitching under your grip—sends a rush of confidence through you.

“Didn’t expect this,” he remarks, with a quirk of his brow. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You lean forward, your hands releasing his wrists as you plant them firmly on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “I figured you wouldn’t,” you reply, easygoing. Your lips hover just above his, close enough for him to feel your breath but not close enough to touch.

You pull back slightly, just enough to sit upright, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath. Your hands move quickly to the hem of your nightgown, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion. The soft fabric slides over your skin before landing somewhere on the floor. Left in nothing, you feel the heat of Quinn’s gaze immediately, his breath hitching audibly as he takes you in.

“God,” he mutters under his breath, almost immediately. His hands are on you in an instant, strong and certain as they find your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin.

You lean forward, your hands braced against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. His breath comes faster now, shallow and uneven, as you dip your head, your lips brushing along the sharp line of his jaw. You move slowly, deliberately, your kisses soft and wet, trailing from the edge of his jaw to the corner of his mouth, then lower.

Quinn lets out a low, quiet hum, his head tilting back slightly as you continue your path. You stop at his chin for a moment, pressing a kiss there, before shifting lower, your lips grazing the stubble along his neck. He smells faintly of clean soap and something deeper, distinctly him, and the warmth of his skin beneath your lips makes your stomach flutter. When your lips finally find the hollow of his throat, just above his Adam’s apple, you pause. You can feel the way he swallows hard, the slight movement under your mouth making the corner of your lips curve into a soft smile. You press a lingering kiss there, letting your breath fan over his skin as he exhales sharply.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice breaking slightly as one of his hands slides from your waist to the curve of your lower back, pulling you just a fraction closer. His other hand remains firm on your hip, his thumb brushing small, absentminded circles into your skin. The way his body responds to you—the tension in his muscles, the slight tremor in his hands—sends a rush of confidence through you. You pull back just enough to look at him, your lips still close enough that your breaths mingle. His eyes are half-lidded now, filled with an unspoken hunger that makes your pulse quicken.

"Condom." His voice is low, more of a murmur than a demand, lips brushing against your ear. You freeze for a moment, your breath catching. The haze of the moment dims slightly as you wrack your memory. Had you restocked since your last night with Quinn? The answer surfaces slowly, and you wince.

"I think... I’m out?" you admit, the words hanging awkwardly in the charged air.

He lets out a deep, frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow with a dull thud. For a second, you catch the faintest flicker of irritation crossing his features before he covers it with a hand over his face, exhaling sharply through his fingers. “Dresser, bottom drawer,” he grumbles, his voice thick with both need and annoyance, one hand waving vaguely toward your dresser. His eyes remain half-lidded, trying to be patient, though the tension in his shoulders tells you how much it costs him.

You shoot him a questioning look, eyebrows raised, silently asking, “How?” When did he ever put something there? You search your memory, replaying countless moments, but you can't remember ever seeing him even glance at your dresser, let alone touch it.

“Get a move on,” he mutters, the rough edge of his voice slipping into something of amusing. Before you can say anything, his hand meets the curve of your ass with a sharp slap. The sound cracks through the quiet room, startling in the stillness. It doesn't hurt—it’s more of a firm tap than anything—but the unexpectedness of it sends a jolt of electricity racing up your spine. A gasp escapes you, sharp and breathy, your body jerking slightly from the impact.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, both from the sting of his hand and the sudden pulse of excitement that follows. You hesitate for half a second, feeling the lingering tingle on your skin, before he speaks again. "Now."

You don't have to be told twice, and slip out of bed, feeling the cool floor beneath your bare feet as you make your way to the dresser. With a small exhale, you crouch down and pull open the bottom drawer. There they are—just as he said. A small pack of condoms, tucked neatly beside a few of Quinn’s clothes—shirts and boxers, soft and well-worn—mixed in with your own things. You pause for a second, staring down at the sight, the familiarity of his clothes blending into your space, like they’ve always been there, unnoticed. When had he made this little home in your drawer, this quiet claim on your space?

Your fingers graze over the edge of the condom box as you take it, your mind lingering on the thought. You tear open the packaging with a swift pull, the soft crackle of plastic breaking the silence, and pull out one of the foil-wrapped condoms. As you close the drawer, you find yourself glancing back at the pile of his clothes, some hidden piece of domesticity that tugs at something inside you. A small smile flickers at the corner of your lips, but you push the thought aside. This was supposed to be casual.

Standing up, you turn back to him, the foil packet cool against your palm. He’s watching you from the bed, propped up on his elbows, his gaze heavy-lidded but intent, like he’s sizing up your every movement, reading your thoughts before you can voice them. His expression is almost lazy, but you catch the sharp edge of amusement in his eyes, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“When did you even do that?” you ask, your voice colored with curiosity, as you gesture slightly toward the drawer, toward his clothes.

“I’ve been leaving stuff here for weeks,” he adds, with a small shrug, as if it's no big deal. “Thought you might’ve noticed it by now.”

Your lips part slightly, caught off guard by how casual he is about it, and yet… there’s something warm beneath the surface of his words. Weeks? How had you not noticed before now? The thought stirs something in your chest—a mix of amusement, maybe a bit of something deeper—but you brush it off, again, focusing on the moment at hand. You could question him later. And you would.

You toss the condom onto the bed, watching it land beside him. “Well, I guess I was distracted,” you reply.

You walk back over to the bed, your steps relaxed, feeling the weight of his gaze on you the entire time. The air between you hums with tension, thick and electric. He reaches for the condom without breaking eye contact, tearing the foil with an effortless flick of his fingers. The soft sound of the wrapper splitting seems to echo in the stillness of the room. His gaze falls as he rolls the condom on, then it’s back on you, a heat in his gaze, the kind that feels like it's pulling you in, drawing you closer even before you move. His lips quirk into the faintest smirk, and he tilts his chin, nodding down toward his hardened length, silently requesting for you to come to him.

You swallow, feeling the thrum of anticipation in your chest, and climb onto the bed. As you move closer, he watches every shift of your body, the way your knees press into the sheets, the way your breath hitches as you settle over him. His hands find your waist, strong and sure, fingers digging into your skin with just enough pressure to ground you. The touch is possessive, and it sends a shiver racing down your spine.

With his guidance, you straddle him, your thighs bracketing his hips. The heat of his body presses into yours, and you can feel his cock, warm and firm, grazing the sensitive core of your heat as you position yourself over him. The sensation makes you gasp softly, your body reacting instantly to the contact. His grip tightens, steadying you, his fingers flexing slightly against your hips as he adjusts you over him, his control over the moment palpable.

You begin to move, your hips rolling in slow, teasing circles as you grind against him, both of you feeling the sweet torment of the moment. The friction is electric, his cock sliding against your slick heat, but you’re holding back just enough to keep him wanting more. A quiet moan escapes your lips, your body already responding to the tension coiling tighter between you. You see it in his eyes too—the need, the frustration that’s been simmering all day. You can feel the way his body tenses beneath yours, his jaw tightening as he fights for control. His hands on your hips grip harder, fingers digging into your skin, trying to take control, but you resist for just a little longer. His chest rises and falls sharply, and you can hear the slight edge of desperation in his breathing.

It’s driving him mad, the way you tease him like this—hovering so close, yet not quite giving him everything. The heat between you is thick and tangible, and you can feel the pulse of his need pressing insistently against you. Finally, you let your hand slide down between your bodies, wrapping around him with a firm, confident grip. His breath hitches at the contact, and you catch the way his teeth sink into his bottom lip, the last traces of his composure fraying at the edges.

With one fluid motion, you guide him to your entrance, the tip of him pressing against your wet heat. You pause for just a second, holding him there, and his eyes lock with yours, something raw flickering in his gaze—desire, hunger, but also something deeper, something that makes your breath catch.

Then, slowly, you start to lower yourself onto him, your body taking him in inch by inch. The sensation sends a wave of pleasure coursing through you, a slow burn that builds as you sink down, feeling him stretch and fill you. The low groan that rumbles from his chest is primal, guttural, like he’s been holding it in for far too long. The sound vibrates through the quiet room, echoing off the walls as his head falls back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he loses himself in the feeling.

“Fuck…” he breathes, the word almost a growl, his voice thick and rough with need. His fingers tighten even more on your hips, almost bruising now, like he’s trying to steady himself, to keep from letting go completely. You can feel the restraint in his grip, the way he’s barely holding back, his body trembling slightly beneath yours as he fights the urge to move, to drive himself deeper into you. The tension in him is almost unbearable, a raw ache that’s been building all day, and now that you’re finally here, finally giving him what he’s craved, it’s driving him to the edge.

You pause when you’ve taken him fully, letting your body adjust around him, feeling the heat and intensity of him buried deep inside you. His breath comes out in a harsh, ragged exhale, and you can see the effort it takes for him to keep still, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tries to relax. But you can feel it—how hard he’s holding on, the way his muscles tense under your touch, the way every fiber of him is straining for control.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, voice rough, almost broken. His eyes open, locking onto yours again, and there’s a fire in them now, a silent plea for more, for everything.

You begin to move, slowly at first, your knees pressing into the mattress as you lift yourself up, then lower yourself down onto him again, savoring the delicious friction. Your hands splay across his chest, fingers digging slightly into his warm skin as you steady yourself, feeling the solid rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. His heartbeat is strong and quick, a rhythm that matches your own building pulse.

As you start to swirl your hips, a soft moan escapes you, the sound almost involuntary. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you in just the right way, sends a ripple of pleasure coursing through you. You let the feeling take over, guiding the way you move, each rise and fall of your body becoming more fluid, more certain. Slowly, you find your rhythm, building up a steady, intoxicating pace that makes the heat between you grow even more unbearable.

Your moans become a little louder, a little needier, the pleasure mounting with every roll of your hips. You can feel his body responding beneath you, the way his muscles tense and flex as he fights to maintain control. His hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your skin, but it’s his face that betrays him—the way his mouth falls open, lips parting as he lets out a low, breathless sound, his eyes locked onto you with a mixture of awe and lust. The moment your moans fill the space between you, something in him shifts.

He bucks his hips up into you, unable to stop himself, his need overriding his restraint. The sudden upward thrust of his hips sends a shock of pleasure through your body, making you gasp and falter for a second, your hands pressing harder into his chest as you steady yourself. His eyes cloud with hunger, and he lets out a sharp exhale.

“Good—mhm—good fucking girl,” he murmurs, his voice escaping as a strained groan, almost a growl. His hands slide up your sides, guiding your movements, urging you to go faster, to match the heat and intensity that’s starting to take over. His grip is firm but tender, the friction between your bodies building with each passing second.

You pick up the pace, letting your hips roll and bounce with more confidence now, losing yourself in the rhythm. The sensation of him deep inside you with every thrust is overwhelming, and your soft moans turn into breathy whimpers as the pleasure rises higher. His body moves beneath you, his hips bucking up into you more insistently now, matching your rhythm, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through your core.

Each time your body comes down to meet his, he fills you completely, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl. The tension between you is almost unbearable now, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. You can feel his chest rising and falling faster under your hands, his breathing ragged as he stares up at you with a look that’s half-lost in pleasure, half in disbelief at how good it feels.

His name slips from your lips in a soft, breathless moan, and the sound seems to undo him even more. His fingers dig into your hips harder, his own breath escaping in harsh, uneven bursts as he bucks up into you with more force, more desperation. You feel the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, the ache building with every movement, every touch.

"I'm... I'm close," you gasp breathlessly, your voice trembling with the intensity coursing through your body. Every movement, every sensation feels electric, pulling you closer to the edge.

Quinn’s eyes lock with yours, his own pleasure evident in the way his chest rises and falls unevenly. A low moan slips from his lips, almost as if in response to the desperation in your voice. He nods, his breath ragged, but before you can even process the shift, he’s already moving—gently, but decisively, sliding you off of him and onto the bed beside him. The sudden absence of his cock leaves you aching, but he doesn’t let the moment linger.

Without wasting a second, Quinn positions himself over you, his body hovering above yours. His eyes briefly flick over your face, as if to make sure you’re still with him, still as lost in this as he is. Then, with one smooth motion, he slides back inside you, filling you completely once more. The sensation of him re-entering your pulsing heat draws a sharp gasp from you, and your back arches instinctively off the bed, your body desperate to meet him.

His thrusts are deep, slow, and calculated, each one hitting the perfect spot inside you, drawing out soft whimpers that you can’t hold back. He leans forward, bracing his hands against the headboard behind you, giving himself more leverage to move freely. His body presses close, skin against skin, his muscles taut and trembling with restraint as he drives into you, deeper with every stroke. You can feel the headboard rocking slightly under the pressure of his movements, the soft creak of wood blending with the sound of your ragged breathing and the rhythmic slap of your bodies meeting.

His pace quickens, his thrusts growing more urgent, more purposeful, as he watches you, drinking in every moan, every gasp that spills from your lips. The heat between you is unbearable, a fire that threatens to consume you both. Every stroke sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, your body tightening and pulsing around him, the pressure building higher and higher until it feels like you’re about to shatter.

Quinn’s breath hitches, and his low groans grow deeper, almost vibrating through his chest as he thrusts harder, the strain in his arms evident as he fights to keep control. You can feel the intensity radiating off him, the way his body trembles with the effort to hold back, to keep you both on this edge for just a little longer.

Your fingers grip the sheets beneath you, twisting them in your hands as you feel yourself spiraling closer, the tension coiling tighter in your belly, threatening to snap at any second. His name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper, and the sound seems to push him even further. His movements grow rougher, more desperate, his hips slamming into yours in a steady rhythm that pushes you higher and higher.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs, his voice rough, barely holding together as he lowers his face closer to yours, his breath hot against your ear. His words are a command, but they’re also a plea, filled with the same urgency that’s overwhelming both of you.

And then it hits—you fall over the edge, your body tightening around him as waves of pleasure crash through you, your moans turning into cries as your climax surges, overwhelming and blinding. The world around you blurs as every nerve in your body lights up, the release so powerful it leaves you quivering beneath him.

Quinn groans deeply as he feels you come undone, your body clenching around him, and his rhythm falters for just a moment before he drives into you again, harder this time, chasing his own release. His hands grip the headboard tighter, his knuckles white as he thrusts a few more times, his breath coming out in harsh gasps.

Finally, with a guttural moan, he shudders above you, his body tensing as he reaches his peak. His hips still as he pulses inside you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as he rides out the last waves of pleasure. For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of your labored breaths, your bodies still locked together, hearts racing in unison. Quinn stays there, hovering above you for a moment longer, his forehead resting against yours, the intensity of what just happened still lingering between you.

Then, with a soft exhale, he gently pulls out of you, collapsing beside you. He pulls you close, your bodies pressed together as you come down from the high.

The two of you lie there in the quiet, the aftershocks of pleasure slowly fading as your heartbeats begin to sync. The only sounds in the room are your breaths, gradually evening out, and the faint rustle of the sheets as you shift slightly beside him. Eventually, you break the quiet, your voice soft but still a little breathless. "I’m gonna go pee."

Quinn makes a small sound in acknowledgment, nodding lazily as his hand slides from your waist. With a slight groan, he reaches down to take off the condom, hissing softly from the loss of contact, as he pulls it away from his sensitive skin. He ties off the condom and hands it to you, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment. You take it from him, and rise from the bed.

You pad into the bathroom, the cool tile underfoot a welcome contrast to the warmth of the bedroom. After discarding the condom, you use the bathroom, then and glance at your reflection for a brief moment in the mirror while washing your hands—your skin flushed, your hair slightly tousled from the heat of the moment. Reaching for a washcloth, you wet it under the warm tap, wringing it out just enough before heading back into the bedroom. The light is still dim, casting a soft glow over the room, and you find Quinn exactly where you left him, lying on his back, his eyes closed now, his chest rising and falling steadily.

His eyes flutter open as he hears you approach, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You don’t say anything, and neither does he. There’s no need for words in this moment—it’s a kind of quiet that feels easy, natural, like the two of you have slipped into a space where every gesture speaks for itself. With careful hands, you lower yourself beside him and gently take hold of his cock, wiping him clean with the warm, damp cloth. His body reacts instinctively to the contact, a slight twitch beneath your touch, but not from arousal this time—more of an involuntary response, a shiver at the sensitivity of his skin in the aftermath. His eyes close again, his breath steadying as you rid him of the residual stickiness.

When you’re finished, your fingers brush over his thigh one last time before you pull back, standing up from the bed. After throwing the cloth in the bathroom hamper, you're back beneath the sheets, your body naturally gravitating toward Quinn. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your back. You snuggle into his chest, exhaling a sigh of content.

There’s a long, comfortable silence between you, the kind that makes the world feel small and intimate. And if it weren’t for the absence of soft snores, you might have thought Quinn had drifted off, his breathing slow and steady beside you. The warmth of his body is a comforting weight next to yours, and you let yourself relax into it, your fingers idly tracing the soft flesh of his stomach, enjoying the closeness.

"My parents are visiting." his voice breaks the stillness, just above a murmur.

His words hang in the air for a moment, unexpected, almost hesitant. You hum softly in response, not looking up, your fingers continuing their gentle path over his skin, rubbing slow, lazy circles. "Mhm."

Quinn lets out a quiet sigh, one that feels heavy, like there’s more he’s trying to say but can’t quite find the words for. He shifts slightly beside you, the mattress dipping under his movement. "That’s why I haven’t been… over much," he continues, his voice a bit tighter now, almost apologetic.

You pause, your hand resting against his stomach for a moment before resuming its soothing motions. "You don’t have to explain yourself," you reply softly, keeping your voice steady. It’s the truth—you’ve told yourself that from the beginning. The two of you weren’t dating, not officially, not in any way that came with expectations or obligations. It was a casual fling, a connection that didn’t require labels or promises. At least, that’s what you told yourself when this all started. No strings. No expectations.

And yet, despite those rules, there’s a quiet ache that twists in your chest when he offers excuses. He doesn’t owe you anything—you know that. He’s free to come and go as he pleases, to keep his distance when he needs to, to disappear for days if he wants. But the explanation, the half-apology, suggests he thinks he does owe you something, or at least that he feels guilty about being away, and that stirs something complicated inside you—something you’d rather not look too closely at.

You glance up at him through the dim light of the room. His face is partially in shadow, his expression hard to read, but there’s a tension in his features that wasn’t there before. His eyes are focused on the ceiling, distant, like he’s thinking too hard about something he doesn’t want to talk about. It makes your chest tighten slightly, an involuntary reaction that surprises you.

"You’re allowed to have a life outside of this," you add after a moment, trying to keep your tone casual, unaffected. "Outside of us. We're not dating." The word us feels strange in your mouth, and for a second, you almost regret saying it, like it carries more weight than it should.

Quinn’s eyes flick down to meet yours, and for a second, something shifts in his gaze—something softer, maybe even regretful. His lips press into a thin line before he speaks again. "I know." His voice is quiet, thoughtful, like he’s processing something he hasn’t quite figured out how to say yet. "But I didn’t want you to think I was… avoiding you." His hand moves then, sliding up to rest gently on your arm, his thumb brushing against your skin in a gesture so small and tender it feels almost out of place.

You swallow hard, your throat tightening at his words. "I wouldn’t have thought that," you say, though you’re not entirely sure it’s the truth. The uncertainty in his voice has unsettled something inside you, stirred up feelings you’ve worked hard to keep buried, feelings you shouldn’t have in a situation like this. You were supposed to be fine with the distance, with the lack of commitment. But now, lying here in the quiet darkness with him beside you, it doesn’t feel so simple.

Another silence stretches between you, this one heavier than before. You let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the thoughts swirling in your head.

"You don’t have to explain anything to me, Quinn," you repeat, trying to sound as steady as you can. "I know what this is." The words taste bitter on your tongue, and you’re not sure who you’re trying to convince—him or yourself.

But Quinn doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his hand moves again, this time reaching up to cup your chin, gently turning your face toward him so you’re forced to meet his gaze. His eyes search yours for a long moment, making your pulse quicken in a way you don’t expect. The intensity in his expression catches you off guard, and for a second, you forget how to breathe.

"I’m not so sure I do," he finally says, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You blink, unsure how to respond, unsure if you even want to. There’s a part of you that’s terrified of where this conversation might lead, of what it might mean if you dig too deep into the feelings you’ve both tried so hard to ignore. But another part of you—a part you’ve kept buried for too long—is desperate to know what he’s really thinking.

His gaze is locked on yours, unwavering, and you can see the conflict flickering behind his eyes—like he’s fighting with himself even as he speaks. It makes your heart race, the intensity of the moment, the weight of what he might say next.

“What are you saying?” You ask, your voice quieter than you meant it to be, edged with a hesitation you can’t quite shake.

Quinn exhales a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again, and when he speaks, his voice is low, almost like he’s afraid of what he’s admitting. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he says, his words rushing out, unfiltered. "And I—I know we agreed to nothing serious, but I can’t help how I feel."

You nod, silently urging him to proceed. "I thought I was fine with no strings." he continues, his eyes flicking down for a moment, as if he’s afraid of what he might see in your reaction. "I really did. But… you’ve been on my mind. More than I want to admit. And every time I’m not here, I’m thinking about when I can be. Hell, I just played the worst game of the season, and all I could think about was coming over to see you."

You weren’t expecting this. You had convinced yourself that this was just a fling, a temporary thing that lived within the boundaries you’d both agreed upon. But now, here he is, confessing feelings that you’d told yourself neither of you were supposed to have, feelings you’ve been trying to bury since this started. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest as his words sink in. You don’t say anything for a moment, partly because you don’t know how to respond, and partly because a part of you had been waiting for this—for some sign that what you’ve been feeling wasn’t one-sided.

"Quinn…" you start, but his name comes out as more of a sigh than anything else. He looks at you, his eyes searching yours, waiting for your response, his vulnerability hanging between you like a thread pulled too tight.

He opens his mouth to speak again, his voice softer now, more tentative. "I’m not saying I want to change everything right this second," he murmurs, his eyes dropping down to the space between you, like he’s afraid to meet your gaze fully. "But I just—I had to tell you. I can’t pretend like it’s nothing anymore. Not when it feels like this." His words trail off, thick with emotion.

You can feel your heart pounding, a mix of relief, fear, and happiness swirling inside you. His confession is something you’ve thought about—something you’ve secretly wanted but never let yourself hope for. You know the risk of getting too close, of crossing that line, but the way he’s looking at you now, like he’s baring a piece of his soul, makes it impossible to ignore what’s been growing between you both.

Your fingers tighten on the sheet, your breath catching in your throat as you try to process everything he’s saying. You weren’t prepared for this moment, for the way your chest tightens at his words, for the way hope flickers inside you despite everything you’ve told yourself. Part of you wants to push it away, to keep things safe and uncomplicated, but the other part—the part that’s been secretly wanting more from him—can’t help but lean in.

"You weren’t supposed to feel this way," you say, your voice a little shaky, as if saying it out loud might make it easier to understand. "We weren’t supposed to let it get this far."

He nods, a half-smile tugging at his lips, but it’s filled with resignation, not humor. "I know," he admits softly, his gaze lifting to meet yours again, and for the first time, you can see just how much this is weighing on him. "But I did. And I don’t know what to do with it."

The honesty in his voice, the rawness of it, sends a wave of emotion through you that you weren’t expecting. You’ve both been dancing around this for so long, keeping things casual, keeping the walls up, but now it feels like those walls are crumbling, and you’re both standing there, vulnerable and unsure.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the weight of everything unspoken hanging heavy in the space between you. You can see the nervousness in his eyes, the way his chest rises and falls unevenly as he waits for you to say something—anything—to break the tension. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, your mind racing. This was supposed to be simple, you remind yourself. No strings. No complications. But now, as you look at him—really look at him—you realize that it hasn’t been simple for a long time.

"I don’t know what to say," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s the truth. You’ve been trying so hard to keep your own feelings in check, to convince yourself that this was just physical, but hearing him say what you’ve been afraid to even think makes everything feel so much more real. So much more dangerous.

"You don’t have to say anything right now," Quinn says softly, his voice gentle, almost like he’s giving you space to process. "I just… I needed you to know. I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t mean something to me."

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as you process his words. You’re not sure what happens next—what this means for both of you—but as you lie there, tangled in the sheets, the air between you thick with uncertainty and unspoken emotion, one thing becomes clear: this is no longer just casual. Not for him. And, if you’re being honest with yourself, not for you either.

[fumiscripts]

✦ DEDICATED TO YOU

✦ one shot ,, rin itoshi x gn!reader

content:: you're a famous idol. and you're dating a professional player. of course you'll be making headlines when your relationship was made public.

for @yui2aku ,, fluff ,, 822 words

additional:: swearing, they're both whipped for eachother, might be ooc

Itoshi Rin is a rising star in the football industry. And you were in the peak of your idol career.

Obviously, the media would freak if they find out that the two of you were dating.

So you kept the relationship a secret, doing your best to not give out any hints. From making sure not to mention each other too much in interviews, to carefully crafting social media posts to ensure that fans won't be able to tell that you were going to a place together. Both of you and your management carefully concealed it from the public view.

But, of course, not everything goes to plan.

PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE ITOSHI RIN AND SOLO IDOL [L/N] [NAME] SEEN HOLDING HANDS AT HANEDA AIRPORT.

This was the headline of one of the many, many articles that flooded all across the internet. Your heart stopped, then slammed back at full force. You stood up straighter, brows furrowing together. The first time you opened your phone for the day, and you find posts about this everywhere.

Oh fuck. You fucked up, didn't you?

“Shit. What the hell,” you curse under your breath, reading more into the article.

Meanwhile, Rin looks up from your lap, opening an eye, disturbed from resting on your thighs when you suddenly stopped running your hands through his black locks. Your eyes flicked towards his,and he gave you a look, as if to ask what suddenly bothered you to halt playing with his hair.

You blink at him, before sheepishly turning your phone around, showing him what's been blowing up all over the media. “So… maybe we weren't discreet enough with the clothes I wore to greet you.”

His face instantly dropped, turning into something more serious as his teal eyes skimmed through the overview of the post. Rin sighed, grumbling something under his breath before burying his face onto your stomach. “...I told you to just stay at home and wait for me,” he murmured after a while, draping his arms around your waist.

“C’mon… you know I had to greet you right away. It was after a big overseas game I couldn't come to— it was the same time I had a concert,” you scoffed, reasoning with him. “The least I could do was pick you up at the airport.”

Rin didn't look up. He was touched by your little gesture to try and make up for not attending a vital match, so he didn't use that argument further. “Tch. Should've at least covered up more of your features,” he lightheartedly remarked. Though he really liked the uniqueness you had with the way you dressed up, so he can't hate on that. “Well, what do we do now?” he asked, moving the topic along from the problem to finding a solution.

You stared down your phone, anxiousness coming back to loom over you. “I should contact my manager,” you remark, watching as he finally lets go of you and sits up properly. “We could schedule a meeting with our PR teams?”

He nodded. “Right. So go do that,” he replied, though he already had a vague idea what they might propose for you two to do. It was a guess.

That guess was right.

The day after those rumors about the two of you having a secret blew up, you hard launched your relationship to the public.

They decided that coming out clean about this would be the most logical way to proceed— way better than the media speculating that the two of you were just a fling and start tarnishing both of you’s reputation. A proper relationship sounded way better than a one-night stand to the public.

After confirming on each official account, the masses began to be a little more welcoming to it. Hell, the ship tag between you and Rin seemed to blow up with positive posts, even. So that fix was successful.

Once the news calmed down through weeks, everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be with being an idol with a soccer player for a boyfriend. Majority of fans seemed to love the two of you, often making fan media dedicated to your relationship. And in all honesty, it was cute. Plus, you had more material to tease Rin with.

Now, you couldn't help it. You personally asked for your next album to be something special, convincing management it's for the sake of the publication of your relationship. Though, it was dedication for someone special.

An album dedicated to him.

Rin knew those songs were dedicated to him. If those vibrant eyes of yours while you performed on stage— looking straight at him who sat by the vip seats— said anything, it was all about how much you loved him.

Oh, and with the way he looked at you with pure adoration, it was obvious he loved you, too.

Rin was utterly, hopelessly dedicated to you.

(a/n):: Grrrhsjua not my proudest work since I barely write nonchalant asf characters

taglist:: @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku

@lakeside-paradise

© fumiscripts 2024. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[rene-darling]

Listen I saw this fanart and now I had an idea. So like sub!Idol Xiao x dom reader (fem prefered but u can choose) and so basically Xiao's taking some mirror selfies for his social media in this outfit and yk like showing off those lacy panties (like they're pulled up, but he still has his jeans on) and like reader (their partnwrcomes home and sees him doing that. So they like sneak up behind him and hug him from behind. Like he becomes all flustered all of the sudden and readers like:"Oh so you're showing this to millions of people, but get embarassed when I see it?" What happens afterwards is up to u lmao

IDOL!- Xiao x reader

OML THIS IS SO- HOT. I love this concept. I'm drooling.

Possessive reader! A lil toxic I guess, but it's pretty tame.

Also! The readers gender nor pronouns are not mentioned anywhere, so feel free to assume. And if they are please feel free to tell me!

Talk to me on insta [r3xni3]😞🙏

...Xiao...

He's been at it for hours. Different angles, different poses- all to get a good photo of himself flaunting his panties and the tight straps attached to them on his waist,

They hug his body so tightly pushing at his skin, if they move even a little bit you'd definitely see the red marks under them, they push up against his skin, it hurts but, he's doing it cause his agency asked him.

"mhm..." Groans leaving his throat, the photos- they're just not good enough. Scrolling through the endless amounts of them that he took, finally landing on one that pleases him.

He decides to shoot it one more time, same angle and stuff, just better lighting. He wants to show off his toned body as much as possible. And as he does this, it- quite frankly skips his mind that he has a loving partner returning from work soon. And that soon happens to be around- now.

"Ah-!" His body freezes up. Goosebumps trace along his skin- god your hands are cold. His eyes flash down, seeing as your hands slowly trace down the side of his waist, fidgeting with the straps they came across, grabbing one and pulling it away from his body only to watch in amusement as it snaps back in place once you let go,

He reaches out to grab your hand instinctively, mewling- until you finally reach, and play with the hem of his panties.

"y/n- s-...mh, stop." He tries sounding serious, but he curses at how squeaky and pitched his voice came out.

"hm..? What's the problem darl', you can show off your panties to millions of people, but you're getting embarrassed when I see? Hmpf, I'm one of your fans too y'know?."

"i-its not the same-" he's stammering over his words "y/n- hah..-" slipping your hands in between them, but not quite touching him just yet, simply tracing the sides of his hip "and how so..? I'm your biggest fan, shouldn't I get a reward for that. I deserve more than a picture. Don't'cha think?"

Tracing down the side of his hip, he can feel your eyes peering over his shoulder, watching him. His every movement, his every shudder. And the way his panties start bulging in a specific area

"y/n-" his voice is cut off by his own whine. You're so mean, suddenly jerking his cock, tapping its tip just for your own amusement. "Aw- darlin that was too cute!..do that again? Hm? For me?..you take so many photos for those stupid fans of yours, you can make that cute sound for me again can't you..?"

Huffing, he's leaning back into your body. His head falling back with each increase in movement, resting it on your shoulder, whining back into your ear. "Hah- you- you're so mean..!"

It's not your fault he's decided to make you jealous. Seriously, why the hell should he post his body for all his perverted fans to see.

Picking up his phone and pressing record on it, angling it right at his face. "Look here baby, I'm sure your perverted fans would love to see their favorite lil idol losing his head over a few touches." His eyes widen in shock "n-no..!"

He tries grabbing the phone, but to no avail. You pull it further, and jerk his lil dick harder, he stumbles, falling forward before you grab his waist pulling him back into you, he's leaning his whole body weight against you, he just hopes you won't let go.

Snickering to yourself you decide to stop recording, and go into the photos, clicking on the video you just took, you bring it to his ears and make him listen "Aw- darling don't you just sound so cute when you're desperate."

That's when it all spills. A shameful feeling, and an ever more shame worthy whine leave him as he comes all in his lacy little panties, getting them all dirty.

His legs collapse completely as you're forced to pick him up off the floor, not that you mind.

Resting him on the bed, letting him catch his breath, you take a hold of his phone and- delete every photo he took showing off those panties.

Scoffing you throw his phone down next to him and crash onto the bed right near him, wrapping your hands around his pretty waist you hear him huff. "You got them dirty..." He could only mumble under his breath.

"I'll buy you some new ones, on one condition." Turning his head around with a slightly amused expression on his breathless face "and..that is...?"

"you can only take those photos for me. I get to see them. No one else."

[sinofwriting]

Private Professor - Max Verstappen

Words: 5,576 Summary: For years and years, Max has claimed that he has a girlfriend, but no one has ever met her and he refuses to talk about her with the media. And it’s far easier to believe that he’s lying when no proof of a girl exists. Note(s)/Warning(s): Small Age Gap (Reader is nearly two years younger), Some Angst, Mostly Fluff, Jos Verstappen. Thank you so much to the anon that requested this! I had a lot of fun writing it!

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At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship is all blood rushing to their cheeks, fluttering hands, kisses that last too long and not long enough, panting breaths, and hickeys below shirt collars. It’s whispers of forever, of I’ll take you here and there. That house will be ours one day. Whatever you want, you’ll have. I’ll be on break, you’ll come home and I’ll be waiting. You’ll follow me everywhere and I’ll do the same.

It’s promises they don’t realize they shouldn’t be making but do. It’s sweet nothings and petty fights that last a day before they’re back in each other's arms. It’s pretending not to notice how his dad watches him amused as he walks calmly out of the door before sprinting over to her house and sneaking into her bedroom. It’s her parents pretending not to hear the thud of him falling into her bedroom and the light giggles their daughter makes.

At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship changes. It’s no longer seeing each other when he doesn’t have a race or training and is home, no Red Bull duties to be done. It’s long phone calls, texts, snapchat streaks, learning how to video call. It’s carrying two power banks with them everywhere and Max buying them both expensive phone cases that charge their phones. It’s falling asleep on the phone while the other is just beginning their day. He attends classes with her, while she listens to him train. He goes to red bull meetings and pretends not to have the light sound of breathing in his ears from her falling asleep while studying or doing her homework.

Fifteen and seventeen, brings them peace. She’s still studying like a mad woman at Harvard of all places, but he’s got an F1 seat of all things. He’s in F1. He suddenly has more things to do but more free time. When he’s not racing or at the factory or doing weird press things that make him want to rip his hair out, Jos is putting him on a plane to America, to her. And he soaks up all the time with her he can, despite it being filled with her studying, attending classes, and forcing actual food down her throat which her parents both thank him for.

It also brings the stupidest thing in the world; the doubt and disbelief that he has a girlfriend.

Carlos is the first to bring it up upon seeing his home screen that’s just all black, not even the default that iphone has.

“No girlfriend?” Max frowns at him, pocketing his phone and sending a glance over to where his father is standing and talking to his race engineer. “What?” “Your home screen, it’s all black. You don’t have a girlfriend?” Carlos is teasing, joking. The whole paddock already knows that Jos Verstappen wouldn’t let his son have a girlfriend, not now when he’s got an F1 seat. Such a thing would be a distraction and Max isn’t allowed those. Max isn’t allowed friends on the grid either. Carlos wonders though how much the last part is just a Jos thing. “I do.” Then he says her name, all soft and sweet in a way Carlos never thought Max could be. It’s nearly enough for him to believe Max, but then he catches a glimpse of Jos and shakes his head, clapping the seventeen year old on the back.

He is the first to not believe Max, but far from the last. It’s Daniel next, Christian, Esteban, Pierre, Sebastian, Lando, every interviewer that asks.

It doesn’t matter because at seventeen and nineteen, she gets her second degree and begins the nightmare of getting her doctorates in education and history. And he picks out a ring before making his father hide it away. And instead of him constantly flying to her, she’s flying to him. Hiding out in his Monaco apartment, turning his living room into a disaster zone as she spreads her things around to study.

The mess drives him crazy, but he doesn’t move anything no matter how much his hands itch to do so, instead just pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pressing himself in between her and the couch. Grinning when she sends him a look, a clear don’t be a distraction, before giving him a kiss.

His days in Monaco when she’s there are spent in the living room after training, playing fifa or watching some documentary for one of her classes with her, and poking at her lightly because he doesn’t know shit about history but he’s still able to remember countries quicker than her.

They turn eighteen and twenty and nearly get married when her family goes on vacation to Vegas, dragging the two along despite them not being able gamble, which is the only reason her parents had chosen Vegas. The only thing that stops them from getting married is him not being a US citizen and her visa just being for school. It’s a fucking wakeup call for him and he can’t help but pester her about places in Monaco to live.

She entertains it for all of five minutes before she’s cupping his face and kissing him. When she pulls back, she’s shaking her head. “As long as it has you and four bedrooms, I don’t care.” “Four?” “We’ll need our own offices and a guest room.”

It’s barely anything for the real estate agent to work with but he doesn’t care. He wants something that’s at least four bedrooms, two baths, a decent kitchen, and a view. She liked the Monaco sunrise and sunset and he planned on letting her be able to see it anytime they stayed in Monaco.

His agent gets back to him in a week and he ignores the look on Daniel’s face when he comes over for the first time. Ignores the jokes about it being too big for one person just like Daniel ignores him saying that he has a girlfriend.

“If you had one, I’d have seen a picture of her mate. The whole world would.”

Max still remembers the way his jaw had twitched at the thing everyone said. That if he had a girlfriend, they’d have seen a picture of her, that he’d be showing her off every second, have her at the races, been seen with her. When Max had made it abundantly clear that the worst part of driving was the media, the fame. So why would he ever subject someone he loves to that when they both weren’t ready for that?

Because they weren’t. He wasn’t ready for another part of his life, one of the most important parts, to be something for everyone to look at and dissect. And she wasn’t ready for it either. Not when she was doing so much studying. She barely felt like she had time for him, which he denied and hated vehemently, she didn’t have time for the online vitriol of being a girlfriend to a high profile athlete. And she didn’t need to be harassed as she attended classes and studies groups and such if someone recognized her and didn’t like that she was with him.

Not showing any pictures or videos of her was also easy for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t have any, he had hundreds. But they were pictures and videos of her, only meant for him. Not because they were dirty in nature, though some were, but because how she was in them was something only she allowed him to see. It was photos of her with a finger pressed to her top lip as she glared at her books, videos of her sitting on something too tall for her feet to touch the ground and letting them swing. It was her smiling at him, all fond, shy and in love.

It was them wrapped up in each other's arms and love. Her in between his legs or the other way around. Her sitting on his lap as Vic stole his phone to video them laughing and exchanging kisses. Her giggles as she tries not to fall asleep as reads her books to him over facetime. It’s her in her purest form and he doesn’t want the people in his life who are so quick and sure to not believe him to get to see that.

Nineteen and twenty-one, she officially co-owns their place in Monaco and he starts scouting out property in Belgium and land in France that’s somewhat close to the principality he lives in. It was too early to start building a house to live in forever, not when they weren’t sure what they wanted to live in forever with their kids, but it wasn’t too early to buy the land for it.

It also leads to their biggest fight in years.

“Max!” Her nails are digging into her arms. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I want to help, that I can pay. I have money!” “And you don’t need to!” He’s yelling as well, face red with anger. “I’ve got money too! You don’t need to pay for shit when I can.” She shakes her head. “Really? Is that how it's always going to be? I won’t ever get to pay for anything? Just have a salary and trust fund wasting away.” She scoffs, giving another shake of her head. “Is it about being the breadwinner? Because don’t worry Max, I’m well aware that you’ll always have more money than me. Doesn’t mean I can’t contribute to our life.” “Fuck.” He murmurs seeing the tears brimming in her eyes but not falling, the hurt in her words. “It’s not about that at all. It’s not about being the breadwinner.” “Then what is it about?” Her voice is high pitched. “You won’t let me pay for a single thing! I can’t buy groceries without you slipping money back into my wallet. I can’t help pay the bills and now you won’t let me help buy the land that will have our house on it. What is it about Max?” “You’re mine.” Her eyes widened at his quiet but firm tone. “You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life. One day my wife and the mother of my children.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling words and feelings he’s only ever really let come out during sex or when they're both so drunk they barely remember anything the next day. “I want to pay for everything because it’s providing for you, it’s making sure you’re eating, sleeping somewhere safe, getting the best, most accommodating flights. It’s knowing that I’m providing for my family.”

“Max,” she breathes out, arms falling away from her chest and then she’s moving closer, resting a hand over his racing heart. “You want to provide for me?” He nods. “For our future kids?” “Yes.” “So do I. So, we’re going to work on this. You want to buy the land, you can.” He looks at her distrusting, because this didn’t sound like working on it. “But, I get to pay for groceries when I go out for them, without you paying me back. I get to pay for netflix because I use it more and spotify.” She adds. He frowns at her. “I don’t like it.” “Too bad and I’m not done. In return, you get to pay the bills, put gas in the car for me,” he grins at that. “Pay for my flights and we are going to open a joint account to put an equal amount of money in every month. For things like vacations, anniversary dinners, and the kids. Because it’s important that I get to help provide for them too. And when we build that house together, I want to pay at least half of the contracting fee. I’ll let you pay for the rest.” “I want to pay for any of the kids' interests. Like art, ballet or karting.” “No deal.” She shakes her head and he’s frowning again. “You can pay for all the karting, it will mean more. But I want it out of the shared account for the other things. Unless,” she pauses. “Unless,” he encourages. “If any of them decides to go to university early like me, I want to pay fully for it.” “No.” It’s quick and now she’s frowning as well. “It’s our children and their education. Shared account.” “Their first degree.” He shakes his head. “And if it’s their only degree?” Her brows press together, it was a good point. Just because they decided to go to university early like her didn’t mean they’d go for more than one degree. “First year.” His eyes narrow as he looks at her, but he nods. “First year. But only of the first degree.” “First degree only.” She agrees.

It’s quiet between them before Max lets his face soften, lips twisting slightly into a smile. “Are we done fighting?” She laughs, but nods. “Yeah. We’re done fighting.” “Thank god.” He breathes, pulling her into his arms and burying his face into the crook of her neck. “Let’s not do that again.” “Not anytime soon at least.” “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you too.”

Twenty and twenty-two has their families asking when exactly they’re getting married, wondering why there isn’t a ring on her finger and their only saving grace is their time spent in Monaco together away from them all. But when it gets to be too much as pressure builds as she tries to finish her doctorate in education while still working on her doctorate for history, it’s Jos that steps in for her and Max.

The three of them shared a complicated relationship. She could never like him for the parent he was to Max growing up. From the near abuse he hurled at him when he failed, the pressure he put on a child, the leaving him in a foreign country for a few hours when he wasn’t even a teenager more than once. But she did love him, because Max loved him and in his own way he loved Max and he showed that with his support of their relationship when everyone expected for him to have a problem with it, label it as a distraction. And now as a few years had passed and Max was comfortable in his F1 seat, he was Max’s fiercest defender, unwilling to back down, but would if Max told him too. And he was her fiercest defender as well. Glaring at jokes about her not needing a degree with the money Max made, not forcing her to join on trips when she was busy with school or questioning her support of Max because she didn’t attend races.

So, neither Max or her are surprised when Jos steps in when her grandparents are trying to back them into a corner as to why she doesn’t have a ring on her finger and how they have a number for a wedding planner and she should really give her a call, when all they want is to get breakfast before retreating to their room so she can resume her studies while Max hovers around her while going over his own work.

She hadn’t been thrilled at first when she learned that Jos would join them on the trip, knowing that Sophie wouldn’t be there, but now she was grateful and she made sure to squeeze his shoulder before leaving the kitchen and scheduled a nice quiet dinner for herself, Max and Jos as thanks.

The media becomes relentless when they’re twenty-two and twenty-four and Max wins his first championship. Because there is no girlfriend in sight despite the now champions thanks for her support and love. They tear Max apart for creating a fake girlfriend that has no name or face, call him unloveable with his fake championship. Some tear her apart as well, calling her gold digger, selfish, undeserving, fans of Max and the sport do as well.

It was supposed to be a happy moment for him, one of if not the best in his life, but it’s tainted, ruined, and as soon as he’s home with her in Monaco, all she can do is hold him and pretend that the texts from his friends begging him to go out and get laid don’t make her cry later in the shower.

Despite the texts and a bold one from Daniel about hiring him a prostitute, she forces Max to go out, to celebrate with the drivers in Monaco, to get drunk and have fun, and forget what the media is saying about him.

“I’m coming back if one of them even hints at a prostitute.” He tells her and she laughs, but she knows that he’s serious. He’s never even once considered cheating on her and one of their first serious fights had been about her trying to convince him and herself that she’d be okay if he got lonely while he was traveling and needed someone. He hadn’t believed it for a second and it had been one of the few times he had been so pissed at her that he couldn’t even stomach to look at her.

“Am I making a mistake, mom?” She asks, barely five minutes later, not even bothering saying hi when her mom greets her over the phone. “No.” Her mom’s voice is firm and has her blinking away tears. “But,” “No.” Her mom cuts her off. “Sweetheart, I can’t even begin to try and understand Max and yours relationship. But this, this privacy that you two have, that’s not a mistake. It’s rough right now and it will be. And it will come back later when you two do decide to be public, but it’s not a mistake. You two both made the difficult, heartbreaking, mature decision to keep it private for both of yours sake.” “I know.” She whispers, wiping away tears. “You both still need privacy and there is no shame in that. Max isn’t ready and neither are you. As far as I’m concerned the only mistake you two have made is still not being married with a baby on the way.” “Mom.” She groans and her mom laughs. “I know, I know. Just remember that despite the seven or so years you’ve been together, that you two are still young, still doing so much growing.” “Thank you.” “Of course.”

When Max arrives home hours later, drunkenly stumbling around and into bed, she’s not surprised by the smell of liquor clinging to him or the drunken murmurings he’s pressing to her skin. She is surprised by the deep inhale he takes and the splutter that makes her turn to face him.

Eyes a little blurry from sleep and wine, she makes out squinted eyes, flushed face, and a frown.

“You’re drunk.” “You’re drunk.” She replies, curling closer to him. “You’ve been crying.” “Yeah.” He slips an arm around her, pulling her closer. “We’re going to feel like shit when we wake up.” “Yeah.” He chuckles, brushing lips over her forehead. “That bad?” “That bad.” She nods.

At twenty-three and twenty-four, the itch that Max has had since he was nineteen, one that’s grown worse and worse as the years have gone by, is too persistent and he takes a quick trip to his fathers house the day after she turns twenty-three and returns with a ring and the promises they made at fourteen and sixteen, promising them all over again, as she stares at him with a smile and teary eyes.

“I’d be stupid to not want to marry you Max.” She tells him when he slips the ring on her finger, breathing a sigh of relief when it goes on, fitting perfectly. “You’re going to marry me.” She nods, giggling at his blown pupils and silly grin. “Yes, I am.”

It seems stupid to be so giggly and flustered about it, so love sick, when they’ve talked about it so much. About getting married, about houses, kids, life after racing and teaching. But it’s different with the ring on her finger. Not more real or tangible. Just more.

“I know I proposed early.” She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and his arms eagerly wrap around her waist. “It’s perfect. I know we talked and had plans, but this is perfect. Besides, I’ve got news of my own that’s early.” “Oh?” Max’s eyebrow raises and he knows it’s not possible, not really with her religious use of the birth control shot and the way they mainly use condoms, more for convenience than anything else, but his eyes drift down to her abdomen that’s exposed. There’s no difference, but he can imagine what it would look like, he can also imagine what it will look like in a few hours. “Not that.” Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. “I got an email about my viva exam.” “Your viva? But you haven’t submitted your thesis yet.” “Actually,” “Stop.” He lifts a hand to press it against her mouth. “You submitted your thesis already? You completed it?” She nods, her laughter muffled by his hand and he drops it. “Well, what did it say? The email.” “Once I get to the ceremony, I will officially hold a doctorate in education and history.” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

“Unbelievable my love, unbelievable. Two doctorates by twenty-three.” He shakes his head, smiling wide. “You know what that means right?” He shakes his head again, unable to think of anything. Too overcome with his proudness and love for her. “I’ll have my position at Harvard right after the ceremony.” Blue eyes widen. “And they agreed to let me teach a mix schedule for all of 2022, but when the official school year starts for 2023, I’ll just be teaching digital.”

Twenty-three and twenty-five has them weathering the media storm once again as Max wins his second world championship. It’s worse this time. Not because he says more than he did last time about her or says her name or slips up and calls her his fiancee and not girlfriend like they agreed to. But because this championship no one can deny is his and she’s still not there. Too busy in a different continent with the start of the school year as she teaches by herself for the first time since earning both her doctorates.

It’s also not as bad this time, because some of his friends do think that he’s seeing someone, not the girlfriend of years, or even really a girlfriend, but just some random girl that understands he’s too busy for an actual relationship and willing to put up with him spouting to the media and everyone else that he’s in a committed relationship. She doesn’t have time to focus on the media and fans that believe she exists, she barely did last year, but this year she really doesn’t.

“You know,” she says five days after he’s won his championship and they are in the house they have stayed in for the past two years when she has to be at Harvard and he wants to join her. “Around this time next year, we’ll be public.” His face does a weird contortion at the thought. There was a giddiness to the idea, to the thought, but also dread. “That means,” she continues when Max doesn’t say anything. “That you have ample time to figure out how you want to tell people.” “How I want to?” “Yeah. This is your world, your friends, colleagues, nightmares,” she adds and they both laugh. “You can decide how exactly you want to get back at them for not believing you.” “I’m not going to be cruel.” “No.” She lifts her hand and lets her pointer finger trace over his lips. “You’ve never been a cruel person, Max. But you can be a menace.” His eyes light up at that. “Oh. And you don’t care?” She shakes her head, “This is all you and I’m more than happy to be along for the ride.”

She is twenty-four and he has just turned twenty-six when he decides to enact his plan that he came up with so many months ago.

He had made a reservation for a private hall in Monaco months ago, hired a party planner to take care of the finer details, but sorted himself out the place and the food and drinks that would be served. And the day after he turns twenty-six, he picks up the large stack of enveloped invitations he had made and carefully packs them in his suitcase for Qatar. He was winning the championship there and he’d be damned if he didn’t make an already memorable weekend even better.

It’s the first time in a decade she has traveled with him to a race to actually watch the race and not just be there at the hotel to support him as she studies and he can’t help the smugness and happiness that radiates off him when he shows up to the track for the first day.

He’s got his backpack over his shoulder, but the invitations are already in his hands, ready to be passed out.

“Max!” Charles greets when he arrives in the driver's debrief room. All twenty of them, plus reserves, team principals, and Daniel sitting and standing around as they wait for the FIA representative to get here. He looks down at his watch, noting that it will at least another ten minutes, before his eyes flicker to a member of the Red Bull staff that’s standing against a wall, but just like he asked, they’ve got a camera in their hands and there’s another one standing leaning against the opposite wall, also with a camera. “Charles. Safe flight?” “Always. What do you have there?” “Ooh,” Daniel chimes in, moving closer and looking at the envelopes in his hands. “What do you have there?” He smirks and he can see Daniel’s grin flatter at the sight for a brief second. “Invitations.” He says, before tossing or passing them around to the different drivers and Christian. He nearly avoids giving Lando one just to be a shit but Toto isn’t there to give it too and it wouldn’t be the same to give it to a different team principal jokingly.

“What is it for?” Carlos asks, eyeing the dark envelope like a lot of the other drivers are, suspiciously. He shrugs, eyebrows raising when he sees the way Lando is feeling the envelope. “Mate, I’m not giving you money.” Lando frowns, before ripping it open. “You’ve got more than enough to spare.” Seeing Lando open his, has the rest of them following suit.

“Dear friends of Max Verstappen,” George reads out and the wording earns a few snorts but he continues. “You are invited to celebrate at the” he pauses squinting at the french on the page. “The Salle des Étoiles” Charles says. “Cheers, mate. You’re invited to celebrate on the 8th of November at 4pm.” His eyebrows furrow. “Celebrate what?” Max watches from the corner of his eye as Christian flips the invitation over and nearly chokes.

“Your engagement?” “Your what?” “Engaged?” “Impossible.” “Lies.”

The whole room is filled with denial and panic and Max just smiles, nearly laughing when Logan thrusts his invitation into James’ hands and asks the team principal if it’s true.

“Max, you aren’t engaged, right? Like that was a fuck up with the print place?” Daniel is nearly pleading, begging, and Max would feel sorry, but for the past ten years he’s been telling people he isn’t single, and sure he’s never shared many details, but they all refused to believe or even consider it. He ignores him, instead looking at the room in large. “You’ll meet her tomorrow. She’s very excited about it.” And as if he planned it, the FIA official walks into the room and no one can question him.

When the meeting is over he manages to avoid all of them except for Christian, who nearly drags him into a private room.

“Is this real?” Max raises an eyebrow at the way he’s waving around the invitation but nods. “Yes.” “You’re really engaged.” “Yes, Christian. I am.” The older man stares at him, not blinking before sighing and running a hand over his face. “Is she pregnant?” “What?” “The girl you’ve been sleeping with recently. Is she pregnant, is that what this is about? Because you don’t have to marry her.” “No one is pregnant.” He reassures, not even able to find any anger for Christian and his assumption. The older man sighs again before sitting down and slumping in the chair.

“You’ve had a girlfriend since you were sixteen.” There’s regret, guilt, and sorrow in his voice. “Yes.” “And I never believed you.” He shrugs, it had hurt yes, but he had always understood Christian’s disbelief in it over anyone else's. “No.” Christian nods. “And I owe you both an apology for that. I should have believed you Max.” “Thank you.” “But really, ten years and you’ve just put a ring on it?” Max groans, rolling his eyes. “You sound like our families.”

They are twenty-four and twenty-six when Max wins his third championship, with the sprint race of all things, and the whole world watches as he’s enveloped by his team before he’s tugging off his helmet and kissing the unfamiliar girl that’s between Christian and Jos, shielded from the rough crowd of Red Bull mechanics, crew, and such. They are twenty-four and twenty-six when everyone finds out that Max had been telling the truth the whole time.

Just about a month later, she eases into the spot between Max and the arm of the couch, eagerly tucking herself closer to him when he drapes an arm over her shoulders.

“You alright?” She nods, “Yeah, Vic and Tom finally left.” Max snorts, “It only took them thirty minutes.” “A record for them.” She grins, before looking at the other people surrounding them, or rather Max. She wasn’t surprised that Max had taken to quickly grabbing a few people and secluding themselves in a corner. She was a bit surprised by the people however.

Charles and Daniel which isn’t too surprising, but there’s the three rookies of the season, Liam, Oscar, and Logan, as well, a little surprising, but nothing compared to the two Mercedes drivers also in front of her.

“You aren’t trying to get Lewis to play paddle are you?” Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “I get enough of competing with him on the track. There’s no convincing me there.” “It’s fun, Lewis.” Charles says. “You should join. George you too. Make it Mercedes versus,” he pauses, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to think of something to call himself and Max. “Lestappen.” She offers, inching away a bit when Max pinches her side. Charles doesn’t notice the pinch, just smiles at her, before looking at the two British drivers. “Yes! Mercedes versus Lestappen.” His eyebrows then furrow. “What is Lestappen?” “Mate, you don’t want to know.” Liam tells him. Logan chuckles, “I don’t know. Either he finds out now or he finds out when he googles it later.” “Googles it.” George murmurs, mocking the American accent that Logan has. “Bloody Americans.” “Yeah, yeah, tea and crumpets.” Logan waves off Georges mocking with a grin as he looks at Charles. “It’s what people call you and Max, a nickname you could say for when you two are together.” She tells him before Logan can say anything. “Oh,” he frowns, considering. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” “It’s not.” She assures.

Before anyone can say anything else, someone joins their group, eyes focusing on her.

“Dr. Y/L/N, congratulations on your engagement.” She looks at the older man in surprise before quickly standing to shake his hand. “Toto, a pleasure to see you again. And please you don’t need to call me doctor.” Toto smiles, tilting his head forwards, conceding as she sits back down. “Doctor?” Daniel questions, eyes flitting between her and the Mercedes team principal, not sure of what to make of the interaction, though Max seems perfectly fine with it. She presses her lips together and she can feel Max move a bit closer as Toto’s eyes narrow at Max. “Yes.” She tells Daniel and the rest. “I managed to get both of my doctorates last year.” A few jaws drop and Lewis whistles. “And I thought you were just a teacher.” Toto’s looking at her now, with narrowed eyes and she sighs.

It would be just her luck that despite having just met the man once, that one time had resulted in a long conversation after he gave his guest lecture at Harvard.

“You told them you're a teacher.” “I told them I teach.” She corrects. “Let's not make a big deal out of it.” “I want to make a big deal out of it.” Max mumbles and she sends him a pleading look. But Max doesn’t give in, instead he turns to the rest of them. “She’s a professor at Harvard. She got both her doctorates at twenty-three and quickly was signed on as professor.” “So, what you’re saying,” Oscar starts, breaking the silence that has fallen over the group. “Is that she is way too smart for you?” Max laughs, eyes crinkling and body bending forward from the force of it. “Without a doubt, mate. Without a doubt.”

@cixrosie @darleneslane @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @fanboyluvr @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @benstormy @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @boiohboii @topguncultleader

[yierrem]

dating headcanons - zzzero men edition pt. 2 ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

ft. gn! reader x asaba harumasa, billy kid, and seth lowell ; a follow up to my previous dating hcs (which can be found here) and a response to a request ( ^ω^ ) first post of the year（≧∇≦）i hope you enjoy reading!!

asaba harumasa

very clingy. when you're not together, he'd be texting you random little updates or beg for your attention just for the sake of talking to you if calling momentarily isn't an option. sometimes he tries to use you as an excuse to get out of work, but after he's done it a couple of times, you've become immune to always bending to his whims and suddenly he's whining about how you don't love him anymore.

["wait i'll look at your texts later brb love u ^3^" "so you hate me."]

an avid quality time enjoyer, if i've ever seen one. he's content with lazing around with you or doing mundane tasks that don't require much physical effort. likes cuddling against you when you're just sitting engrossed in doing something with your hands and reading or watching something together.

even though he usually appears and acts lighthearted, deep down, he's genuinely happy with you and the relationship you share. he cherishes every moment you can spend together and wishes it could go on for as long as he lives. you're the person he refers to as family when on one of his much-dreaded doctor appointments.

alongside the nightmares he already has regarding his sickness, he'd have times when he'd wake up in a cold sweat from dreams of losing or leaving you and the people he cares for. thankfully, on the days you sleep over, he has you; he's comforted by the sight of your sleeping figure and clings to you for the rest of the night.

on a lighter note, sharing a bed with this man is probably a chaotic experience on a dreamless night; initially, you'd both fall into slumber comfortably cuddled against each other, but the following morning, one of you would be seconds away from suffocating in a vice grip.

billy kid

loves playing games with you. he's usually competitive when playing against you but when you're both on a team together, he's suddenly the biggest cheerleader there is. if both of you lose, that's totally fine! you'll get it next time. what matters to him is that you had fun together.

deeply appreciates it and enjoys when you match him nerd-for-nerd, even if you don't share a lot of similar interests. you take turns randomly info-dumping about any piece of media or activity you're into and both of you pay genuine attention to whatever the other is talking about. he loves listening to you passionately talk or share anything about any topic because you do the same for him.

adding on to the previous point: both of you make jokes about liking your favorite fictional characters or celebrities more, just to be playfully petty.

["if you had to choose between me or monica, who would you pick?" "...well, yes!" "..." "alright, then. between me and /insert favorite character/--" "that's unimportant."]

after spending so much time with him, you already know which maintenance products he likes for himself or his guns. kind of like how other people know what shampoo or body wash their partner prefers. when you see he's running out and you buy them without telling him, he'll notice and be weeping tears of joy.

if you take a while to open up to him about certain things, he's alright with that and will tell you to take your time or give you the space you need. he's been the same when it comes to sharing his past with other people and understands that some things do take courage to tell.

seth lowell

despite having been in a relationship for a while, he most likely still gets easily flustered from any vaguely flirty quip and intimate gesture that comes from you. you could use this knowledge to your advantage but do have mercy on the poor guy.

[there was one instance where you gave him a quick peck on the lips without giving much thought to it before leaving and all he could do was stay where he was with his brain buffering for a whole minute.]

even though he's somewhat shy about expressing his admiration or appreciation for you and sometimes stumbles through his words when doing so, he's sincere in everything he says and does for you.

you're one of the very few people he trusts with touching his tail and ears. it's come to the point where when you're both just laying together, he wouldn't mind the feeling of your fingers gently rubbing on a certain spot on his ears while you run your fingers through his hair.

he appreciates that you see him for who he is and acknowledge his efforts to get where he is now. your affirmations, whether spoken or unspoken, mean much to him and he feels like he can truly be comfortable when he's around you.

sometimes, he unknowingly acts or does very attractive things and it just blows your mind. he'd steer you by the waist from bumping into things or, if you're shorter, accidentally pin you against a wall/surface when trying to reach for something from a high place because he just wants to help! you should be more careful, you know. but you've already mentally imploded while your sweet, sweet boyfriend remains clueless.

[sold2vlaykz]

I love you more than you do.

(Yandere Millionare E/Ex X FEM! reader!)

Prompt: Your older E/Ex bf can not get over you, has not and tonight he’s come back to claim you as his!)

Warning!! Mild angst, stalking, CNC kiss, towel nudity mentioned, loser reader!, word pretty mentioned, older male yandere.

It was late, you usually did things like this. Stayed up all night despite having school/work tomorrow, you’d spend hours on social media, discord, just because you had nothing better to do with your life.

Your relationship with your family was backwards, sometimes they loved you next they did not.

He hated seeing you sad, the tears rolling down your face as they belittled you. Belittled his sweet little girl.

He wanted to kill them, rip their throats out.

But he couldn’t because he knew it’d hurt you, despite the luxury of a life he could’ve given you after he knew that your pure heart wouldn’t have accepted it.

“I fucking hate this shit.”

You cursed at yourself, arguing with some nobody online while he watched you from your window a gift in hand.

Of course he could’ve watched you from the cameras but it was never better than the real thing.

Of course he’d deal with who you were arguing with later, whoever it was, was soon to be dead on a platter.

But tonight was all about you.

Tonight was the night, the night you’d see him.

You stood up, closing your phone before rubbing your temples and heading to the bathroom. He stood there for a second, waiting maybe a minute or five before he heard the shower water begin to run.

He climbed up the rails into your bedroom window , being quick to hide himself away in a closet.

Your family was away, everyone had something better to do than to be in the house with you.

The smell of you surrounded the room, he’s ashamed to say but it made him horny. He’s only ever been this close to put the cameras in or steal things.

Minutes flew by and there you were. Standing in all your glory in a towel.

Before you dropped it he stepped out, your eyes went wide in surprise as a scream left your lips. It wasn’t long before he covered your mouth with his gloved hand.

He pressed his gun to your back, a smile crept to his face as you trembled.

“Another word and I’ll blow your shit straight off.”

He was lying through his teeth, he couldn’t kill you. God he’d rather kill himself but hey you didn’t know that.

You nodded quickly, his hand slowly moving away from you.

He picked you up and placed you on your bed, careful not to drop the towel. His hands traced your face, then your towel slowly unraveling it.

He didn’t want to fuck you, well not without your consent at least.

You began to cry, whimpers leaving your lips thinking that your dignity was about to be ripped away.

“No, shh. I’m not gonna’ do anything. Just wanna’ feel you.”

His voice was deep, rolled of the tongue so effortlessly.

His hands went down to your stomach, squeezing the skin just to get a feel, cupping your breast gentle, rubbing your thighs. With each move a whimper left his lips, as if he was getting off on just rubbing you.

“Who are you?”

Your voice was cracked and shaky, almost a whisper despite no one being home.

“I’m your husband.”

He spoke blankly, your eyes widened at the golden ring on his finger. You were confused, maybe this was all just a bad dream. None of it made sense.

Well at least not to you, to him you were married. He got your parent’s signature on a contract not too long ago, they were all drunk after a party and stupidly signed a paper not knowing what it was.

Now you were his, all nude and pretty. Sitting there just for him.

He opened your laptop, immediately faced with the discord screening.

He grabbed your hand before pulling you softly towards him, sitting in a chair while pushing you into his lap.

“Won’t be needing this anymore”

You watched him factory reset your whole computer, everything erased. Your whole lonely loser life, crushed.

You didn’t want to seem phased despite the shake in your bones. He looked up at you, looking you in your eyes as if waiting for a response.

“Why are you doing this.”

You heard him groan at your question, before snatching your phone from in the desk. He clicked on your messages before going to the deleted.

“Mm, baby you really don’t remember me?”

He went on a number that was at the very bottom of the list, before recovering all that was gone.

With you on his lap and one hand on your thigh he began to scroll, thousands of messages from almost three years ago. By the looks of it, he was some guy you used to E-date. Until you inevitably blocked him because of the age difference between you two, the jealousy, and possessiveness-despite how much he evidently cared for you.

“All of this, and then you left me.”

His grip tightened, jaw clenched.

The balls to come here without a mask, knowing he wouldn’t have got caught. His gun on the opposite side of you, he just kept staring at it.

“But I forgive you, you couldn’t have done it on purpose.”

A lie he told himself, he began to dig into his pocket. Whatever it was had a circular shape. And god you hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. In the midst of all his shuffling he pulled out a ring.

As much as you hated to say it, it was beautiful.

Covered in diamonds with a ruby in the middle, gold decorating the rims.

“I remember how you said you loved the color red, despite it being a last ditch effort to have a favorite color like everyone else did.”

Considerate, despite the breaking and entering, the threats, the gun. He already had the contract, all he needed was your finger.

His eyes stared like daggers into yours, gray stubble decorating his clean cut facial hair.

“Marry me. Just like we promised all those years ago.”

You could tell it wasn’t a question, it’s either you said yes or you thought he’d blow your fucking head off. When in reality if you said no he would’ve just stalked and harassed you until you had no choice but to say yes. Or kidnapped you-

“Do I have to?”

He froze, nails practically digging in your skin through the gloves.

He picked up the gun before pressing it to the side of your ribcage.

“Do you?”

Is all he said his voice a low growl. A soft yes left your lips, and all was subsided. A smile grew wide on his face from ear to ear as if he didn’t have a gun to you.

“I knew you loved me.”

He placed a kiss on your neck, eyes full of absolute joy. He put the gun down and grabbed your face, facing you toward him. Devilishly handsome with the mind of a psychopath.

“Do you know how much I’ve done to get here, from killing your boyfriend, murdering your teacher, even killed that celebrity you were obsessed with. Just to have you now sitting in my lap with a ring on both of our fingers.”

He kept covering you in soft kisses, you on the other hand trying hard to ignore the bulge in his pants.

“I’m sorry, it’s just your so pretty angel.”

Angel, that name ran through your mind like alarms. The day it fell down when he hacked your account and deleted every man from your phone.

“I’m sorry angel I just don’t know what got into me.”

You knew you were going to have passion marks, didn’t know how you were going to explain them to your parents.

“I love you.”

He kissed your lips, he stood up with you in his arms and placed on you the bed. Lips not daring to leave yours.

“Stop-” you mumbled out.

His eyes dropped, sadness filled them.

“It’s me sweetheart, your husband. All those times we said we wanted nothing more but to hold eachother.”

His hands made their way around your back and pulled you closer.

Nose to his area, making the size difference evident.

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up.

“You can’t run from me, even now if you call the police they won’t catch me and we’ll end up right here.”

He began kissing your neck softly once again, each kiss deepened. He dragged a moan from you despite you wanting to not enjoy it, he knew how to make you feel good.

“Does that feel good baby?”

He knew it did, you could hear his chuckling under your moans, under his slyness.

“We don’t gotta’ do anything. Just wanna’ kiss you.”

He brought his mouth back to your lips, and sadly. You kissed him back, God. You felt his hard on grow the more you kissed him, his loud moans and whimpering just by your subtle touch.

“Say it, say you love me.”

He stopped and looked at you with desperate eyes, despite what he’s done you know how much he’s done for you. The money he sent, the gifts he bought, the reassurance and pure love he gave.

“I love you.”

-“mm fuck.”

God he was getting off by just your words, he turned around and covered his face with his hand. Trying his hardest not to touch himself to your voice like he used to.

“I fucking love you, you don’t know what you do to me.”

He groaned before coming back towards you, innocently kneeling and putting his head in your lap like a lost puppy dog.

Covering your thighs in soft kisses. He dug into his other pocket before pulling out another ring more expensive than the already pricey one.

“I almost forgot, that one was for engagement.”

And you knew, you were in for a hell of a ride.

[norrisjpg]

TASTE … ʟɴ⁴

in which, lando calls off his arrangement with his best friend for a new girl — but all he can think of is her.

contains: a little bit of angst, lando with another girl (brief smut), smut; dom!lando, brief sub!lando, body worship, oral (f + m), fingering, face-sitting, squirting, p in v, unprotected sex, mentions of anal; a bit of fluff at the end.

lando norris x female character (ella ainsley)

... pretty morning streams of sunlight beamed through lando norris’ apartment windows — illuminating the blonde hair splayed on the right side of his bed. white sheets were tangled between two warm bodies, one with pinkish-red scratch marks littered down his back, and the other with light brown bruises squeezed into her hips.

who, you ask? these were the almost entwined bodies of lando norris and his best friend, ella ainsley. well, they weren't just best friends, they were something a little more - best friends with benefits, or best friends who used each other to burn off a few calories and release some pent up sexual desperation.

however, arrangements like these hardly ever end well - and it was the same for the case of lando and ella.

"morning." ella murmured as she noticed lando intently gazing at her in the early beams of light.

"morning pretty girl." he rasped, voice a little croaky as his eyes fluttered open and closed a few times. "sleep well?"

"as always." she smiled groggily, letting her eyes naturally close for a few seconds, before her gaze fell back to the brit practically on top of her. "you?"

"always when i'm with you." he breathed out, staring at her for a moment or two, before pulling his gaze away from and rolling over.

lando got out of bed with a large stretch, muscles in his back contorting as his shoulders rolled back, ella's eyes fixated on him - he was so gorgeous.

"breakfast?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows as he rubbed his eye with his knuckles — stood there in his black boxers and nothing else.

“mhm.” she nodded sleepily with a small smile.

now, these two seem very cuddly and lovey — don’t they? ella thought so too, so the events of the following week severely surprised and hurt her - a lot.

“i’m calling it off.” lando said as they sat in his car. "going on a date tomorrow night, sorry.”

his tone was blunt but soft — like he didn’t care but he did? men were so confusing.

“oh.” she said simply, blinking at him. “okay.”

originally, ella thought his message had been one of those messages, telling her to get ready to be picked up by him, but clearly not.

“what’s her name?” she asked, glancing over at him as she fiddled with her fingers in her lap.

“um… luna.” he nodded, the air in the car having now grown extremely thick.

“oh, okay.” ella replied quietly. “i look forward to meeting her.”

…

of course she didn’t look forward to meeting her.

ella spent the rest of the evening in her apartment, wondering what this meant for their friendship. surely there was no way of coming back from this - lando had ruined her for anyone else.

there was no way that anyone could compare to him, in a lot of ways. she thought it was completely impossible for anyone to make her see literal constellations on her ceiling, for anyone to make her cry the tears of torturous pleasure, for anyone to make her so loud.

lando’s date went quite well, luna was polite and nice, and pretty too. the two went back to her apartment — lando never brought girls back to his apartment, in fear of media and paparazzi.

her apartment was nice, he felt lost though. her hand led him to her bedroom immediately — this all felt a little wrong.

usually, with ella, she’d come round to his place, they’d have dinner, watch a movie, and let it happen naturally — this whole straight away thing felt a little forced.

she didn’t even bother kissing him, instead she was straight onto her knees and working at his dress pants roughly. was it bad he missed the feeling of someone’s lips all over his jaw and neck and collarbone and chest and abs? how softly her hands would undo his belt or untie the strings of his joggers? how she’d suck dark hickeys on his v-line as she tugged his clothes to the floor?

he wasn’t even hard. like, there was a little bit of blood rushing south but nowhere near enough to make him useful to her.

well, he wasn’t hard until her lips wrapped around him and descended down. she didn’t even gag. usually, well before ella, he would have found that so hot — but ella had the worst gag reflex on the planet, but she’d keep going nonetheless — gazing up at him as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

“mhm.” he hummed as her tongue brushed over the sensitive slit at the tip of his cock.

it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know what he liked — so he couldn’t complain.

she must have been on that floor for the best part of fifteen minutes? he was getting closer to something, maybe stimulation or something but it most definitely wasn’t an orgasm.

“come here.” he mumbled, pulling her up to him, pushing her back on the bed.

they weren’t even naked, yet he quickly spread her legs and pulled her underwear to the side. after quickly rolling a condom over himself, he ran his cock through her folds a few times, not really bothering to make sure she was properly lubed up as he would do usually — before pushing in.

it didn’t take her long to cum, maybe a few minutes? still, he didn’t cum, nevertheless he pulled out with a fake moan, slipping the condom off of him quickly and tossing it in the bin near him.

“that was… incredible.” she panted out, sitting up. “are you going to stay the night?”

“um.” he pursed his lips — quick, think of a lie. “sorry, i can’t, got to be up early for a team meeting.”

a team meeting, really? in the middle of the summer break?

…

for ella, it wasn't now the fact that when she had sex she didn't cum, it was the fact that she couldn't cum, full stop.

she'd even enlisted the help of her ex-boyfriend, jack. it was easy, really, ella had messaged him saying she missed him and asked if he wanted to come over.

surprise, surprise, he was of no use to her.

so, when a new week rolled around, both parties were distraught. lando for being such an idiot and calling off the deal, ella for not being able to cum no matter how hard she tried.

she was adamant that tonight was the night.

ella had even gone out and treated herself to some new lingerie — the prettiest deep blue matching bra and underwear from victoria’s secret.

she had to admit, she looked hot.

her delicate fingers shamefully ran down her tummy, squeezing the skin gently as the others toyed with her nipples.

usually, by now, she’d be writhing underneath lando and begging him for more — but he wasn’t here and neither was the pleasure he’d bring with him.

she imagined it was his veiny hands travelling down her body like a well-trained explorer, paying attention to the dips of her hips and the small bump of her v-line. it did something momentary for her, heat flushing down her inner thighs, but it quickly died along her chest after rolling up her tummy.

"fuck." she groaned, and not in a good way.

ella was about to reach to her bedside cabinet for one of her helpers, when a frantic knock echoed through her apartment — who on earth was at her door at seven on a sunday evening?

sluggishly, ella crawled out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown and wrapping it around her body.

knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

"god, okay, i'm coming." she huffed as she walked toward the door.

and there he was — the subject of her torture and her desires.

"la-"

hands frantically cupped her cheeks, pressing a needy kiss to her lips — okay, this definitely wasn't something that they usually did. nevertheless, she melted into the kiss, her hands travelling to the back of his head as he walked them forward and kicked the door shut behind him.

she pulled away reluctantly — "woah, woah, woah. what are you doing here? i thought you called the deal off?"

"i did, i missed you." he nodded, going to lean in desperately again, but he was stopped by her index finger on his lips.

"what the fuck are you doing then?" ella raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer from the brit.

"i like you, like a lot, ells." he blurted out. "like more than best friends."

what. the. fuck.

"huh." was all she could muster, blinking rapidly up at him.

"i mean if you don't feel the same i'll leave and we can—"

"no, no — just say it again so i know i'm not going insane." she shook her head, reassuring him that he wasn't about to be kicked out.

"ella ainsley, i like you, a lot."

"wow." her mouth hung slightly agape, and with a laugh, she continued, "oh! sorry, i like you too, so much."

"thank god." he breathed out, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "come here, pretty girl."

lando stepped forward and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist — she thought she could have actually cum from the action alone.

"be my girlfriend, please?"

"well, since you asked so nicely," she smiled with a blush. "yes, i will be your girlfriend, lando norris."

"good, 'cause i wasn't going to give you a choice anyway." he laughed softly, pressing another gentle peck to her lips as he navigated his way to her bedroom.

she rolled her eyes with a giggle, adjusting her arms around his neck as he walked through the doorway and toward her double bed. lando put her down on her feet, quickly undoing the bow at the front of her dressing gown — expecting her to be in pyjamas underneath or something.

his jaw hit the floor along with the robe — she looked fucking divine.

"fucking hell." he breathed out with a low groan, drinking in her body under the lace set — blue always was one of his favourite colours. "jesus ells."

"you like it?" she asked, the most innocent look in her eyes.

"fucking love it." he rasped, gently shoving her back onto the bed and taking his shirt off immediately. "look gorgeous."

an adorable blush spread across her features and a smile painted itself across her lips.

immediately, he leant down and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck, trailing down to her chest — tapping her side and mumbling, "up," prompting her to arch up her back so he could undo her bra.

lando expertly unclasped the mechanism and slid the material off of her body, tossing it to the side. soft moans left her lips as he attached his lips to one of her nipples, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. two of his fingers travelled up to her mouth, tapping at her lips softly so he could slide his digits in.

she welcomed them warmly, sucking on them softly as he pressed them against her tongue. lando then quickly pulled them out with a low groan, and brought said fingers down to her other nipple, pinching and softly rolling it in between his fingers.

"please." ella whined as heat fizzed and bubbled all over her body.

"hm, what was that?" lando teased, looking directly up at her with a small smirk.

"lando.." she groaned with a small laugh. "just get on with it."

"how romantic." he joked, letting his now free hand travel down to her abdomen.

he hooked his fingers under the waistband of her underwear and pulled it up, letting it snap back against her tummy. lando watched the dazed look in her eyes as he shuffled downward, letting his lips press soft kisses on her stomach along the way — before latching his teeth onto her panties and slowly pulling them down.

god, he was a sight for sore eyes.

lando quickly then pulled them off the rest of the way, and spread her legs wide open before him. ella thought she had ascended to heaven when he gently let his spit find its way to her pussy, lubing her to no end.

he was merciless, giving her no warning at all before his tongue was aggressively flicking at her clit and two of his thick fingers were stuffed deep inside of her, finding that spongey spot that drove her wild.

"lando... fuck." she moaned loudly, trying to close her legs around his head, but failing when they fell weak upon feeling his spare hand pressing down on her lower stomach. "god... yes!"

he murmured something incoherently hot into her folds, the vibrations causing the magic knot in her stomach to coil nice and tight.

it was like heaven on earth. his lips sucked at her clit messily and the most lewd sounds were emerging from her due to her wetness and lando's extra lube — god, he loved it.

"lan—" she whimpered, she fucking whimpered; lando could have died in her pussy a happy man right there and then.

her mind flashed with warm colours, like warning lights in a factory — something was different about how he felt, and it was sending her barrelling toward her first orgasm of the evening.

"fuck, ells." lando groaned into her when her hand needily grabbed at his hair, running her nails through his mullet — she was definitely a mullet fan now.

"god — so close." ella whined so desperately, so loudly.

lando knew what made her tick — always had, always would. so, it was natural for him when he gently squeezed her clit between his teeth and scissored his fingers apart just that little bit harder — and it was no surprise to him when she fucking fluttered around him, her inner walls shaking violently as she came all over his fingers.

he pulled them out quickly, replacing his fingers with his tongue so he could taste the remnants of her ecstasy — so fucking sweet.

"taste so good, baby." he mumbled as he licked a stripe up her cunt.

her hips bucked away from his mouth, but his arms held her firmly downward — "hey, let me taste you, ells."

"too much." she breathed out, not really meaning it, but she felt so sensitive right now it was insane. "let me make you feel good, yeah?"

the words coming from her mouth made lando's head shoot up and look at her from between her thighs — "don't worry about me, darling."

"no, no." she shook her head. "i want to — missed your cock in my mouth." ella felt strange saying such lewd things but she could tell it was definitely turning lando on.

"oh yeah?" he teased. "missed me in your mouth?"

"yeah, always turns me on." she nodded quickly, sitting up. "on the bed, lan."

lando, for once, did as he was told. he sat on the bed as she got to her knees as quickly as possible.

he was wearing these baggy blue jeans with a basic black belt — ella's favourite pair because they were so easy to undo, even when she had nails on.

she undid the buckle and unbuttoned the jeans, before yanking them down his legs and let them pool at his ankles — too eager to throw them to the side.

ella took his cock in her hand, tracing her finger up the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft, earning a shudder from the driver above her. on the other hand, ella also knew what made lando tick, she knew he was a sucker for eye contact, that he would melt when she praised him, and the slit of his cock and his tip? she was sure she could get him to come without even touching any other part of him.

after sliding the pad of her thumb over his sensitive tip, and making his hips stutter up into her hand, ella got to work. as soon as her lips wrapped around his tip, lando's hand had gathered her hair back into a makeshift ponytail and was tightly holding it. she always did this, and it never failed — as if it was a routine; tease him by sucking on his tip for a little, then kiss his cock all over while muttering praises to him, and then literally go to fucking town on him while gazing up at him with pretty doe eyes — worked every fucking time.

so that's what she did.

"fucking hell, ells." lando moaned lowly as her tongue swirled around his tip, swiping over his slit every now and again.

she kept going until he was whining and whimpering, bucking his hips away from oversensitivity even though he hadn't cum yet. she then leant down and ran her tongue from the base to tip, before leaving messy lip gloss stains up his cock.

"good boy." she praised softly as he whined out, biting his lower lip and tossing his head back. "such a pretty boy."

"god—" he whimpered loudly. "fucking hell, baby, don't stop."

she pretended as if she was going to keep going, sticking her tongue out to lick him again, before quickly lifting her head up and sinking him slowly into her mouth.

her gag reflex kicked in around halfway down his cock, her throat convulsing and fluttering around him as he hit her tonsils — but she didn't care. tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she began to bob her head, fast.

"god...” lando groaned, head tossed back and hand gripping her hair so tightly as he began to thrust softly up into her mouth. "ella..."

it was so good he couldn't even look at her — he knew that if he looked at the angel between his legs then he was a dead man.

and boy was he right.

a brief look at the woman on her knees with her mouth wrapped around his aching cock was enough to make him spiral — a guttural groan left his lips and his hips bucked up into her mouth, the feeling of his tip hitting the back of her throat making thick ropes of hot cum spill into her mouth, coating her tonsils generously.

"fuck, ells." lando panted heavily, wiping a small bit of his release off of the side of her mouth — before pushing it into her mouth again.

he went soft for a few seconds, but the sight of her getting up and sitting on his lap? that made all the blood rush straight back to his cock, aching and twitching.

"no, no." he tutted.

with his strength alone, he lifted her from his lap and laid himself down on the bed, putting her down on his face. ella almost yelped at the feeling of his nose pressing against her clit, her hips lifting off of him immediately.

"sensitive, baby?" he teased, hands squeezing her ass firmly — earning a quick nod. "what a shame."

lando's hands stayed planted firmly on her ass cheeks, kneeding them softly as he pulled her back down onto his face. his nose pressed against her clit as his tongue slipped inside of her, swirling around her walls — her thighs clenched around his head harshly.

slowly but surely, the sensitivity faded to overwhelming pleasure, and ella began to grind her hips back and fourth, whiny, airy moans leaving her lips every time her clit was poked by his nose.

"fuck—" she moaned loudly, frantically searching for purchase with her hands, finally finding home in his hair. "lando... yes—"

it was when her thighs began to clench and shake, when her walls began to flutter around his tongue, when her hands grabbed extra hard at his hair, when her moans turned airy and high-pitched — he knew.

the feeling of his nose grinding against her clit sent her over the edge, combined with his conveniently long tongue pressing against her g-spot — she was well and truly gone.

“yeah — right there. fuck!”

lando didn’t let up at all, if anything, his efforts doubled. his nose dug into her clit, sending her flying over the edge. the warm liquid gushed out of her, coating his lips and nose and cheeks and chin — he relished the moment like it was his last alive. her legs trembled and shook like a fucking earthquake, his nose now tapping against her sensitive spots as she bucked her hips from oversensitivity.

"god—" ella panted out, lando moving her back onto his lap, before then flipping her over so her perfect ass was high up in the air for him.

he could see her pretty entrance clenching and relaxing, fluttering in the harsh aftershocks of her orgasm — drawing him in.

"gonna let me have this one day, aren't you, pretty girl?" lando cooed, his voice soft but raspy, with his thumb toying with the untouched hole enticing him — anal was something he'd always wanted to try with ella, and ella only.

"yeah — uh huh." she babbled, her hips voluntarily pushing back toward him, now feeling incredibly empty without him stuffed deep inside of her, one way or another. "please."

"give me a second, baby." he rasped, leaning over to her bedside cabinet to grab a condom — only for her hand to swat his away.

"no, want to feel you properly." ella whined. "need to."

"are you sure, ells?" lando asked quietly — they'd never had sex without a condom before.

"i'm sure." she replied, looking back at him, blinking at the driver in anticipation.

lando actually thought he could have died right there and then, her begging was driving him insane. "okay." he panted out.

he softly presses forward, running the tip of his aching cock through her folds — his member pressing against her clit briefly. lando groaned out at the feeling of his sensitive tip sliding inside of her, feeling whole and complete and at home inside her.

no time was wasted, he was pumping in and out of her almost immediately, tapping her g-spot delicately to taunt her.

she whined and whimpered and writhed underneath him, moaning incoherently as he fucked her senseless. her hips pushed back against him to meet his steady thrusts - he immediately knew that meant she wanted it harder, but not faster.

lando quickly altered the angle at which he was pushing forward at, and he could straight away tell that was what she needed. his thick cock was now slamming against her g-spot, and it made him even more determined to ruin her. a veiny hand reached between her legs, flicking effortlessly at her clit, her hips jolting and legs buckling as his thumb circled it quickly. he wanted to make her fall apart.

not that he could see it, but tears were streaming down her face, moans turning needier and more carnal as he started to whimper louder than he was previously.

"touch yourself, baby." he commanded, voice sultry and low.

her hand made its way to her dripping pussy, rubbing shapes and patterns on her clit, as lando's hand occupied itself with pressing down on her lower stomach.

one particularly deep thrust made her collapse, ella's lower body begging to be released, but the singular hand lando had placed on her stomach kept her up, doubling the size of the knot in her tummy in the process.

his name fell from her lips like a fucking prayer, rolling off of her tongue with such ease it might as well have been an everyday item - mixed with whines of 'right there' and 'don't stop, please.'

and fall apart she did.

another one of those impossibly deep thrusts sent her spiralling, tears streaming, throat raw, pussy clenching like her life depended on it. her whole body tensed and relaxed all at the same time, walls constricting around him, fluttering and shaking and squeezing so intensely lando though he was actually going to die.

he didn't die, but he did cum - hard. hot, thick liquid shot out of his tip, filling her up so much it began to leak out of her, dripping down her inner thighs as her legs shook harshly. he kept thrusting though his own orgasm, somehow, causing the familiar clear liquid to gush from her sensitive pussy and coat his balls, her legs, the once clean sheets - if he could take a photo, he would.

he pulled out as slowly as he could, very much aware of the fact that she would be sore after that entire ordeal. she winced softly, but lando just gazed down at her puckered hole, screaming and red, fluttering and unsure of what to do with itself without him stuffed inside.

"you okay, baby?" lando asked softly, rolling her onto her back gently.

"fuck- yeah... god." she babbled, breathless and heaving slightly.

he laughed airly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. he headed to the bathroom, and she closed her eyes. the next thing ella knew, a warm flannel was being pressed in between her legs, and her hips were involuntarily bucking away from the pressure.

"hey, hey, stay still, okay?" he quietly cooed, rubbing her inner thigh lovingly. "can you do that for me?"

an unsure hum left her lips, and after a few attempts, her body began to settle and lando continued to clean her up, wiping the remnants of their mixed release off of her body, and then afterward he scurried back off to the bathroom to do the same for himself.

lando returned again a few minutes later, holding a change of clothes and a glass of water for her - having now gotten dressed into some spare clothes he kept at her apartment.

"ells?" he murmured as he sat down next to her splayed out body on the bed. "i've got you some clothes, if you want them?"

she nodded, lifting her arms up into the air so she could put her arms through the t-shirt. she never let him dress her afterward, she must have been really out of it.

lando laughed fondly, helping the girl dress before assisting her into bed, tucking her in before crawling in next to her. it was natural for her to roll into his arms, and when she did, lando naturally pulled her in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"night, lan." she mumbled.

"goodnight, love."

[demonic0angel]

Assistant Jazz au!

Someone records a lovesick Red Hood just ranting about how women who can break him in half are stupidly sexy and posts it to social media. #RelatableRedHood is trending within the week.

(It got long bc I got excited 😭)

The first video goes like this: It starts off with a woman clad in tight leather and a black helmet single-handedly fighting against a group of five men. She fought like a beast, with weapons and guns and on the occasion, her legs as she kicked a man so hard that he had puked his guts out. At one point, she had picked up one by the neck and tossed him to the wall.

The phone camera, shaky and quiet, then turned to face the infamous Red Hood's side profile. He didn't seem to notice that he was being recorded. He had his hand on his helmet-covered chin as he then said, "Do you think if I ask, she'll kill me with her thighs?"

That was when the video cut off. It was posted at 1:32 AM in the morning by an anonymous account with only one tag #RelatableRedHood.

It went stupidly viral. After that, there were more and more videos with the same tag, taken in more and more ridiculous ways to avoid the Red Hood noticing. Gothamites, particular ones from Crime Alley, were all having a great time watching their resident crime lord vigilante make a fool of himself in front of his hot assistant, who hadn't shown any reaction to the recent fame she gained as the woman who owned the legs that could make Red Hood beg for death.

The #RelatableRedHood videos always featured the same thing. Wolf would go about her business and do absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, or Wolf would complete an impossibly awesome feat with her intelligence or skills in weaponry and fighting, and Red Hood would then absolutely lose his mind afterwards.

Viewers both agreed to his thoughts and laughed themselves silly as they watched the infamous crime lord show just how head over heels in love he was with his assistant. Reaction images and memes went viral as the Red Hood simped over his assistant.

Video after video popped up and they were all clearly taken by goons within the Red Hood's gang due to sheer proximity and brilliant timing. Although videos came out somewhat rarely, probably due to Red Hood's perceptiveness, Gothamites gobbled up each one eagerly.

It all reached to a peak when a livestream link from the Official Robins account was posted at midnight.

In it, the Red Hood could be seen ranting and raving to himself in his office, smacking his helmet-covered forehead. An invisible camera captured it all. "Dammit!! Where are these videos coming from?! Who the fuck keeps making them?!"

He was presumably on call because after a moment, he answered an inaudible voice with a shout, "Like hell I do! Of course take it down! Why the hell would I want Wolf to see them?! She doesn't even know my feelings for her!"

Another pause. And then, "I'm not going to confess!! Why would she even like me anyways?!"

Viewers felt sympathetic for their favorite crime lord, but curiously, the livestream did not end as Red Hood continued to pace and mutter to himself angrily.

Their questions were answered as the door to the room opened and Red Hood hurriedly sat down in his seat, looking up at the door. The camera then captured the sight of Wolf striding into the room. She held papers in one hand and a coffee cup in the other.

Red Hood, silent and tense, clicked on a button, presumably disconnecting the call and then reached for the things she was holding. Wolf avoided his hands, placing the items on the table before she detached part of her helmet and placing it next to the papers.

Both the viewers and Red Hood were confused. More images of Red Hood's bewildered posture on the livestream appeared on the internet with #RelatableRedHood, but people were still focused on Wolf's strange actions.

The camera did not reveal any part of Wolf's face as she left the disconnected piece of metal on the side . She went around Red Hood's desk and sat on his lap confidently as the Red Hood froze like a deer in headlights. She took off his helmet without any resistance, tossed it to the floor, and then grabbed him by the lapels to kiss him senseless.

Cheers and celebrations erupted all over Gotham City as if they had suddenly won the lottery.

Unbeknownst to the Gothamites who were nothing but civilian viewers obsessing over Red Hood and Wolf's romance, Red Robin and Oracle were celebrating in the Watchtower with the rest of the Batfamily, who were all cheering loudly as they closed the livestream and then celebrated for successfully bringing together their brother and his crush.

Mission: Fairytale Ending was a success!