#maybe more? when did I even start this đ
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Matthias nsfw headcannons? đ
had to break out the big screen for this (lapped top) because I have many thoughts and the answers are too large for my humble phone. get ready for long post. matthias likers lock in for your boy this is an analysis post AND a slut post
okay first of all I'm taking a hammer and bashing the current fandom interp of him, he had the absolute manic nutsack to set fire to shit in order to get fucklord pinocchio to leave him alone, I mean shit idk if he even gives a fuck that his parents died in the process they kind treated him like shit shat, so the notion that he's some shy meek blushing bottom of a femboy is getting shot put blasted into space. this is a czech man whose key dish is hard alcohol and who did not hesitate to amputate an arm in coa. I won't be having any of it okayâźď¸we do not fuck around with this guy
however this is also not going to veer into some goofy daddy dom territory, he aint that kind of guy mark my worms. he's spent his whole life being controlled and ignored, now that he's out from under his parent's thumb he's mainly just stuck in the cycle of destroying louis in various ways (again, this guy is NOT meek). so now that we've established what he isn't, let's establish what he is.
living that life for so long will leave you in a state of depression and apathy, a kind of numbness in accepting the rotten situation because it's more palatable to people than snapping. so he is often deeply devoid of emotion and expression, he's quiet and has an empty ass thousand yard stare. but if you peel back the apathy, beneath that is a ton of sadness how empty his life has been and a LOTTTT of simmering rage, this guy has a lot of pent up anger for how he was treated. that kind of life will have you DEEPLY loathing of being controlled ever again, so there's this tenuous kind of wrath that slips out from time to time when he's had one too many shit events happen in a row. also, while he doesn't want to be ignored anymore, he also doesn't know how to socialize with people either, either coming off as awkward or gruff or kind of creepy from how detached he is so it just ends up all looping back into depression and he just kind steeps in that emptiness and dully accepts it. shit man, he barely even mourns his own scars, he just kind shrugs and tells you that he knows he's kind of ugly and that there isn't much point getting torn up over it. nothing that can be changed. bro exists in a state of "it is what it is"
okay now that the character analysis has been opened up let's get into the meat of this ask. how this guy b fucking.
first and foremost, his libido is pretty low, depression will kick you down into that for real, it's also kinda hard to bring home dates when you are
being haunted by that fucking thing
have shit social skills
look fucked up
in mental shreds
preoccupied (handling mental illness and killing a puppet)
basically what I'm saying is this guy has null and void for experience and little desire to go looking (not that that's going to stop me from fucking him anyways. I'll seduce him don't test me) I digress. he jacks off infrequently (maybe once or twice a month) and he jacks off in the early morning in that limbo between waking up after rough sleep and mustering up the energy to get dressed. lays there and stares at the ceiling while the early morning light starts to filter in through his drapes and silently rubs one out before rolling over and getting dressed.
it's probably easiest to get him into bed while he's drunk and in a state of "fuck it we ball," however just outright asking also works, flirting doesn't really work well on him as he'll think you're lying or trying to suck up/make him feel better (cause he kinda looks like an easy target). so just straight up asking is probably the most flattering way you could go about it. no frills, you picked him out with no second thoughts, he appreciates the boldness instead of feeling like someone is trying to conflate him into something more grand or rizz him up because he seems pathetic enough to take the bait. 9/10 times he'll say no because he doesn't have the energy for anything but the 10th attempt will get you a "alright. fine."
he is awkward and weird in bed to say the least, his general social lack as well as physical inexperience make him for an odd sexual partner. he's good with his hands and skilled in multitasking so he's decent with fingering/handjobs but lackluster with his mouth. guy who gives head without blinking. guy who gives head with zero pizazz. is he okay? about as okay as a guy like him can get frankly đ. he fumbles getting into positions and is dead silent the entire time. no moaning even. he doesn't know how to dirty talk don't ask him to try he won't know what to say and he won't attempt either. his rhythm and kissing is decent but there's no passion behind it, you could sucker punch him in the middle of it and he would probably just sniff the nosebleed back in and keep going (kudos for staying locked in at least) guy who fucks without blinking SHDHDJFHFG. he doesn't really know what to do with himself and after being essentially forgotten for so long he doesn't really know how to take affection. it's flattering but he's very awkward and uncomfortable with it so if you try and cuddle him after expect him to lay there like a wooden board (that is if he doesn't try to get up and leave once he's done)(he's not callous on purpose he's just THAT awkward)
throwing a grenade into fandom I don't think he bottoms or subs, I don't think the notion of being told what to do or being used in that manner sits well with him. he's had enough of heeding people for one lifetime he'd rather hold onto control where he can get it.
as for specific fetishes? this guy doesn't have enough experience or perversion in him for that for the most part BUT. some misc thoughts
drunk sex is good because it takes social pressures off and loosens him up a little
praise and worship makes his ears warm because he's not used to hearing it but he doesn't know how to react to it
touching his face flusters him a little because he knows he's missing an eye and is all scarred up so someone touching those scars is kind of new and vulnerable
sometimes his excess anger seeps out during sex and he'll get stiff and rough with a thousand yard stare. thrusts kinda hard. apologizes for it after. you can piss him off to bring it out but he'll never fight or argue, just kinda fucks a little harder and wears a more peeved expression
unconscious guilty pleasure is dollification but not in the direction you think. starts out small, like him telling you that a color looks nice on you and you start wearing it more. the more you heed the notes and requests he makes the more he does it, and by the time he realizes he's doing it, it becomes a shameful desire, because the control gives him an adrenaline rush to be finally out of the controlled role, but also makes him feel a little bad for kind getting off to holding power over someone. if you encourage it though he might end up being quite the order giver. teehee. get ready to play dress up and take commands
coa matt special is him getting an adrenaline rush from cutting off a limb. listen man I just think being in that control position and modifying someone gives him a little high okay. the bone saw stays ON during sex
btw this man is loooong and lanky, tall slim and weird baybe. dick is of average length, less on the girth though but very aesthetically pleasing frankly. also long slender hands with. dexterous fingers. whew
all in all, if he takes a liking to you, you might notice him keeping less of a distance or even shadowing you a little while in day to day life. will subtly fix your clothes and hair while near you and spend a lot of time staring and observing you. can be coaxed into being more talkative after a while đ¤
okay that's all I think, yall can mail in thoughts if you have additional questions đ¤
#fuckass crow house#discount confessional#idv#idv x reader#matthias czernin#idv puppeteer#identity v
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Could I request the four lord's with a combat hardened s/o (maybe they were a ex-hunter for some extra spice đ) who just becomes soft and loving in their hands. Probably tries to spoil them with affection on a daily basis
YES!! Absolutely!! I love when tough characters turn soft, and you gave me the perfect opportunity to write something for it!
The Resident Evil Lords With a Tough-as-Nails S/O Who Turns to Putty in Their Hands
Alcina Dimitrescu
She heard the whispers of the people in the town about a new resident, but she didnât think that her daughters would talk to her about you
It was spring, so she wasnât angry about her daughters going outside
âIâm telling you Mother, itâs like theyâre made out of stone! They didnât care that we had blood on our faces either!â
âThey said they had seen blood too, so they didnât care.â
âThey polished our sickles because they said we âdidnât do it right.ââ
Her daughters were never this talkative, but you made them chatterboxes
She invited you over, but only to appease her daughterâs never ending curiosity
Oh dear. They're attractive.
Here you were, tough as nails, smiling as her daughters fawned over you and asked you how many weapons you knew how to use (and if you were afraid of bugs)
When you looked at her, all she got was a curt nod and you went right back to talking (listening, really) to her daughters
She was fascinated by you
Clearly you werenât local, and from your sense of style you looked homeless, so she insisted you lived at the castle
Uh, a little salty at the homeless comment, you denied, but she insisted
It was a good thing you liked the girls or you would be way harder to convince
You stay at the castle, trying to stay away from her, but she always seems to find you
You talk, and you learn about her while she learns about you
She learns that you were an ex-FBI agent (she didnât know what that was- you explained) that was primarily out in the field as a bounty hunter
Alcina did know what that was, which explained your scars, your weapons know-how, and your reluctance to be open to her
She ultimately decided that you deserved to pampered after what youâve been through
Fancy clothes
Elaborate meals
Expensive gifts
Lots of compliments
��You look fantastic today, my love. Be sure to take care of your scars!â
âThe way that you punched Heisenberg was absolutely artistic. Wonderful form, darling.â
Even after the homeless comment, you continue to get more comfortable with her and eventually melt in her hands
She loves how soft youâve become, and you love her as well
Donna Beneviento
Having your silence is somewhat comforting, but also a bit unsettling
You had explained that you were in the village to research the lycans and possible mold samples that have been sighted
You heard that she was knowledgeable on the local wildlife, so you went to her
You were somewhat startling to her
Silent, strong, good with weapons and with communication (and riddled with scars)
She was extremely anxious and quiet while she talked about her plants
She became even more anxious when you just listened in absolute silence, not giving her any information on what you were thinking
In actuality you were just very relaxed by her voice
It was calm, quiet, and her plants were interesting to listen to
To her absolute mortification, you started to shut your eyes and drift off because of what she thought was boredom
After reassuring her that that was most certainly the opposite of what was going on, Angie voiced Donnaâs little boost in confidence
âSo the big, bad researcher likes to listen to the plant lady talk? Hah! Thatâs the best thing Iâve heard in a while!â
Donna was confused and a little flattered that you could fall asleep to her voice and feel relaxed enough in her home to shut your eyes
While talking some more, many of her dolls started to flock around you and gently touch your hands and face while whispering little compliments into your ear
âLovely eyes, lovely eyesâŚâ
âSuch soft hands! Gardeners hands, seamsterâs hands, warm hands.â
âPaying attention to Donna, to us? So good.â
You were preening under their attention after the initial panic when dolls started to pet you
Donna was more quiet as they worked around you, letting her dolls voice her own thoughts instead of herself
Angie was the one that whispered into your ear that it was really Donna talking and not completely sentient dolls
You blushed and looked at her, asking her if it was true
She nodded hesitantly
That is not what you were expecting but you were not complaining
You beamed and sank further into your chair, letting the dolls fawn over you some more while you smiled at Donna
Your cold exterior melted away, Donna and her dolls waiting no time in praising and pampering you
Donna very much enjoyed watching you relax because of her, and she (Angie) told you as much
She hoped that you would stay so she could continue to talk to you and flatter you
Salvatore Moreau
At first, Moreau was terrified of you
This battle-hardened person with scars and weapons was wandering around his pond in modern black clothes and boots
He stayed away from you
You were a stranger that was in his village and wandering around in his home with a look in your eye tough enough to kill
He was forced to talk to you when you showed up in his house holding a crystallized lycan skull and asked him where the Duke was
Moreau was not thrilled that you were in his house and he was going to throw you out until you looked into his room, saw what was on his TV, and sat right down beside him
Oh. Uh, okay.
He couldn't kick you out, that would be rude! You just got comfortable next to a pungent monster like him and were watching I Love Lucy with him
"Hey. You're Moreau, right? Sorry I've been creeping around. The townspeople had a bounty on a lycan that was eating their socks and I thought I would track it down. Cool place you've got here."
That started your friendship
He very excitedly told you about the flora and fauna in his lake and even got to telling you about what other television shows he liked to watch
When he said he didn't know what Sienfeld was, you stared at him, offended
After reassuring him that he didn't insult you and that you weren't suddenly figuring out how monstrous he was, you told him it was just a show you thought he would like
Oh.
You thought about something? For him? That was nicer than what he deserved
You and Salvatore talked well into the night, the light of the TV screen and the flashlight from your phone providing more than enough light
He learned about you. He learned that you were a retired bounty hunter that heard about the trouble in the village and decided to stay and help
He also learned that you actually liked hearing him talk
This started a tradition of you and Sal talking and eating, and your friendship grew into something more
You like him. You like him.
He's spoiling you. Praise, gifts, food, everything.
"Y-you look great today, love. Sorry about the mucus on your boots."
"For you! It's chocolate. The Duke says it should be okay to eat. Should chocolate be green? Oh, sorry..."
You light up under his words, grinning from ear to ear every time he talked to you
It was odd to see you go from "bounty hunter mode" to "happy idiot" so fast, but he loved it
He was just happy he had someone to love. A very scary someone, but someone nonetheless.
Karl Heisenberg
He had no idea what the fuck all the fuss was all about. Someone from the government came to the village to investigate and see if everyone was still alive and outbreak of the megamycete was contained.
Whatever, it happens once a year
Normally it's some stuck-up priss in a suit or a satin dress that got ruined they stepped into this cesspool of a village
You were not that
Heisenberg was starting to understand why people were taking about you and not just watching the inspection from their houses like they usually do
He wasn't going to lie, you looked like one tough son of a bitch
Cold eyes, calloused hands, combat boots and a gun strapped to your thigh
He was a little surprised when you asked to inspect his factory considering no other inspector had done that before, but it looks like the government sent someone competent to do the job this time
He watched you inspect, staying no more than five feet away from you for the entirety of your visit
You fascinated him
You made no disgusted or terrified remarks when seeing his creations, instead viewing them with almost alarming indifference and⌠fascination
âIs that a plane propeller on that thing? Where did you get it? Can it spin? Can it fly? Is it supposed to be walking into a wall?â
He had to admit, it was nice having someone curious about his experiments
When he absentmindedly moved a large sheet of metal with his mind to clear the way, he didnât miss the glee in your eyes
You visited with increasing frequency after that, calling them âwork tripsâ
In reality, it was just an excuse to spend more time with Heisenberg
And see his very cool powers
Heisenberg lived the attention, and he teased you constantly
âThe tough agent, reduced to a kid in a candy store after seeing my metal junk!â
He knew a thing or two about building walls around yourself, so he was happy to see you relax around him
He didnât know what you did before, but with the amount of scars you had he knew it was more than just âgovernment workâ
Heisenberg made sure to leave you little trinkets he made, giving out the occasional compliment
âHey, you donât look like a stuck-up modern asshole today! Congratulations.â
âI made this bird out of spoons. I was bored and itâs worthless to me so, here.â
You love it, you love him, and he knows it
You still looked a little scary sometimes, though
This is for my two remaining followers and for whatever stinky garbage children still scrounge around for RE8 scraps.
#alcina dimitrescu#donna beneviento#karl heisenberg#salvatore moreau#resident evil#resident evil village#alcina x reader#alcina dimitrescu x reader#donna beneviento x reader#donna and angie#moreau x reader#salvatore x reader#karl heisenburg x reader#resident evil headcanons#headcanons#re8 headcanons#imagines#resident evil 8#resident evil salvatore moreau#resident evil karl heisenberg#resident evil angie#resident evil donna#fluff
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Bye bye from Nico *starts dancing*
Bonus:
Not the kiss he apparently wanted but still đ
#electric callboy#nico sallach#kevin ratajczak#pascal schillo#kevnico#ecgifs#kevnicogifs#mine#Nico: I gotta go guys *starts dancing as a goodbye*#Kevin: *joins in*#well giffing this stream was an experience#took me a whole ass day#maybe more? when did I even start this đ#but itâs worth it đ#future Emma: it took me DAYS to post these đđđ
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cockwarming with caleb and zayne (separately) and theyâre sleepy and clingy and wonât let you out of their sight 𫢠omg who said thatâŚ
Note: Righttt, like who said that.. đ But really, this was so fun, omg. I hope headcanons are okay. I just felt like all the ideas were flowing so easily like this. And I am so sorry if this is too freaked outtt LOLL!!! Thank you so much for the request, luvly!
Creds to @/enchanthings & @/anitalenia for the dividers!
Warning: I feel like cock warming being in this is enough for you guys to understand whatâs going to be happening in here.
Caleb
ę¨ď¸ Okay so for Caleb, I feel like he comes home after needing to be away for work. Your man is tired and jet lagged, and the first thing he wants to do after he washes the airport off of himself, is take a long nap with you.
ę¨ď¸ And duhhh, you are climbing in that bed with him. You two fall asleep, but you wake up maybe an hour into it. Heâs knocked out, even snoring a little. While being in his arms is where youâd want to be, you did have some chores to finish up before he got home. So you figure, why donât I just get up and do them while he sleeps so he gets my undivided attention later?
ę¨ď¸ So with the stealth of a ninjaâan inexperienced oneâyou snake out of his hold. You wash dishes, prep for dinner, and you even take a shower. Like thatâs how tired he is because I think Caleb would notice if you even twitched on a normal day, let alone sneaking out of the bed.
ę¨ď¸ Then bam, another hour goes by, maybe an hour and a half. (I believe you wanted to get back into bed with him, but you didnât want to wake your poor baby up.) Caleb isnât necessarily awake, but you know those times where you wake up and youâre half aware for like a second? Thatâs what happens with him when he notices youâre gone. And he does not like that.
ę¨ď¸ Heâs like a lost puppy, getting out the bed, groggy, hair messy, and searching for you. Itâs a quick search since he sees you as soon as he steps out the room. Youâre in the living room, watching something on TV.
ę¨ď¸ âBaby, you left me,â he says sleepily, eyes barely open. âCome back to bed. Please?â
ę¨ď¸ And you think itâs all innocent, till you look over at him and he has a tent in his pantsss LOLLL. Like okay, it was completely innocent, but I firmly believe Caleb is always semi-hard around you. He actually canât help it. Itâs like his cock is always on go and just ready when you are.
ę¨ď¸ He notices you staring and even when he looks like he needs to take his ass to bed, he canât help but smirk. And donât get him wrong, he wants to fuck you. But his body legitimately needs more rest, so he tells you what heâs thinking.
ę¨ď¸ âWhy donât you come watch your show in the room with my cock inside you? Best of both worlds, donât you think?â
ę¨ď¸ Cock warming is yâallâs thingggg omg. So you make sure youâre quick to follow him. And Caleb doesnât just want his dick inside of you, he wants skin to skin contact.
ę¨ď¸ Now, Iâm about to get freaky, so bare with me.
ę¨ď¸ You both get undressed, you make sure you have the remote before you lay down, and Calebâs strong body is right behind you.
ę¨ď¸ âGo ahead and find what you were watching,â he kisses your neck. âLet me get you ready for me.â
ę¨ď¸ Baby, youâre trying to just click on the damn app to open it but youâre struggling. And you wanna know why? BECAUSE WHILE YOU HOLD YOUR LEG UP, CALEB IS TEASING YOUR CLIT WITH THE TIP OF HIS COCK TO GET YOU WETTTT!!!!!
ę¨ď¸ You keep squeezing and clenching around nothing, and the ache in between your thighs is making you dizzy. And mind you, HEâS DOING ALL OF THIS HALF SLEEP, SO ITâS SLOW AND LAZYYY.
ę¨ď¸ âIâm about to slide in, okay?â He kisses your shoulder. âYou have to stay with me. Donât want to wake up and youâre not here, again.â
ę¨ď¸ And guess whatâŚ? When his cock starts to fill you up and heâs a little more than halfway in⌠You⌠Have⌠An⌠ORGASM!!!!!! Shocked both him and you, but he wasnât complaining, not one bit.
ę¨ď¸ âHoly fuck⌠If my body wasnât so tiredâŚâ
ę¨ď¸ But you assure him itâs okay and heâs fully seated in your soaked cunt, his cock being warmed by your slick and comforted by your tightness.
ę¨ď¸ Heâs knocked out again shortly after, the sheets over your waists while you play your show on low volume. And you definitely feel him pulse inside of you. Itâs comforting in a way.
ę¨ď¸ Hereâs your overall visual: You just cameâunexpectedlyâand Calebâs cock is sitting inside of you. Heâs sleeping with his face over your shoulder, his steady breathing in your ear. His big arms hold you so tight, youâre both fully naked, and his strong chest is against your back. And, his hand is on your boob, gently holding it like itâs a stress reliever LOLLLL. You already know, youâre not going anywhere for a good few hours.
Zayne
âď¸ Now for sweet Zayne, I think heâs coming home from the hospital and all he wants to do is be with you. You know those days where you just feel extra clingy for some reason? Thatâs what heâs feeling. I think between being sleepy and seeing you as his comfort makes his heart so full and warm.
âď¸ But, he frowns when he walks in and youâre not there. No music is playing, he doesnât hear you humming, he just doesnât see any sign of you. Youâre always doing one of those things when he comes home, so heâs down that he doesnât see any of it.
âď¸ When he went to text you, it came to him that you told him you were going out with a friend tonight for her birthday. But he smiles when he gets ready to put his phone away to see you had messaged him, telling him youâd be home in twenty minutes.
âď¸ He utilizes that time to do his nightly routine and when you walk through that door? Despite his tiredness, he is hands on.
âď¸ âYou look nice,â he kisses your neck as he slides your purse off your shoulder, not even needing to look at the hook to hang it up. âI missed you.â
âď¸ Now, you canât stop giggling at his ticklish kisses and grabby hands. But you see how tired he is and youâre just as tired from being out, so you know sex isnât going to happen tonight. So, you suggest cock warming. I donât think youâve guys have done it before, honestly. I think youâve had moments where heâd be sitting inside you for a little bit after having sex, but itâs never longer than a minute or two.
âď¸ âIâm willing to try it. If it lets me feel as close to you as possible, it will become my new favorite pastime.â
âď¸ Zayne doesnât even want to be away from you while you get undressed. I even think heâs helping you LOLL. Helping you with your heels, sliding your dress off, and had he not showered before you got home, he wouldâve been in there with you.
âď¸ But once all of thatâs done, you know you have to help him get hard and with what heâs been expecting, heâs already halfway there.
âď¸ Zayne lovessss stimulation. Heâs a whining mess when you start to stroke him in his pants, breathing heavily into your mouth as you kiss him tenderly. And the ways heâs talking.. GOOD GOD.. All the while, youâre getting soaked just by doing this. You didnât even bother with putting panties on.
âď¸ âIs it normal to be so addicted to you? I donât think I have it in me to be apart from you for any amount of time. Will you indulge me and my selfishness?â
âď¸ Once he lays in the bed, you climb in his lap while he holds his cock to guide himself into you. And itâs literally a breath of fresh air for him when your walls spread to accommodate him. AND WITH THE SLEEPY TONE OF HIS VOICE, IF YOU HAD IT IN YOU, YOU WOULDâVE JUST STARTING BOUNCING ON IT.
âď¸ âOh, youâre so good to me,â he whispers when you gasp while his cock slides in. âI canât believe Iâve deprived myself of something so intoxicating.â
âď¸ You actually have him shivering, thatâs how good it is. Itâs so tender, intimate, and he knows that if youâll allow him, heâd prefer to be with you like this as much as possible.
âď¸ âSince itâs my day off, I intend to spend all day tomorrow, like this. Is that alright? Because thereâs nowhere else Iâd rather be.â
âď¸ Every gentle squeeze of your walls is like being welcomed home. And itâs not long till you both fall asleep like this. I just know every time you move even a little bit, he holds you tighter. Heâs serious about not letting you go anywhere if he can help it. If he could cook dinner while you wrapped yourself around him, Iâm so sure heâd do it LOLL.
âď¸ Between your weight on top of him and his cock seated in your pussy, the man is wrapped in the most luxurious cocoon. This was the closeness he was yearning for.
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deespace smut#love and deepspace caleb#caleb x reader#caleb smut#caleb x you#love and deepspace zayne#zayne x reader#zayne x you#lads x you#lads smut#lads caleb#lads zayne
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Ok ok now flip the wrong husband idea. Intimidating/grumpy resident whoâs close to and clearly Jack abbotts fav resident, the med students think they might be secretly together only for her to actually be Robbyâs gf/wife đ
Wrong Attending
Pairing: Dr Michael "Robby" Robinivich x Attending!Reader
She was terrifying. Thatâs what the med students whispered behind clipboards and in the corners of the nurseâs station.
Dr. (Y/N), third-year resident. Surgical precision in her tone, her incisions, and her sarcasm. Always serious, always focused, always somehow two steps ahead of the attending she was assisting. If she barked an order, you followed it. If she gave you a look, you apologized before even figuring out what youâd done.
Jack Abbott adored her.
He never said it, but it was obvious. She was his golden resident. She scrubbed in with him more than anyone else. He taught her the most complex techniques with the kind of softness he didnât extend to anyone else. He even brought her coffee when she had a long case ahead â Jack Abbott bringing someone else coffee. It was enough to start rumors.
âSheâs totally his girlfriend,â one of the med students said as they wheeled a post-op patient back to recovery.
âGirlfriend?â another scoffed. âTry wife. You think anyone else could get away with back-talking him like that and not get reamed for it?â
She passed by just then, sleeves rolled up, surgical cap still on. She gave them all a pointed look as she walked through.
The students fell silent. Guilty. Terrified.
Later that day, the ER flooded.
A pile-up on the interstate. They needed hands. All hands. She was already pulling on gloves before anyone called her name.
She was hunched over a trauma bay, blood on her scrubs, one hand in a chest cavity whenâ
âHey,â a voice said behind her. Lighter. Familiar. âJesus. You didnât answer my texts. You okay?â
She glanced up, annoyed. âIâm working, Robby.â
Dr. Robby. The senior attending. Golden boy of the ER. Charismatic. Bright-eyed. Sunshine in scrubs. Or maybe that's just how she saw him.
He blinked. âYouâre elbow-deep in a thoracotomy and Iâm the one getting attitude?â
She didnât answer. Just turned back to the trauma.
The med students, standing nearby and wide-eyed, watched in confusion.
Dr. Robby stayed there, leaning against the glass, watching her with something oddly fond in his expression.
She finally stepped back after the patient stabilized, ripping her gloves off and walking to the sink.
Robby handed her a towel.
âCan I help you?â she asked flatly, drying off.
âJust wanted to see if you were alive. I made you dinner.â
âYouâre ridiculous.â
âAnd you love me.â
âYouâre lucky I do.â
One of the students behind them dropped their chart.
Robby turned, startled, and blinked at the frozen group of baby doctors staring at them.
ââŚWhat?â
One of them finally managed: âWait. Youâre dating Dr. Robby?â
She raised a brow. âYou say that like itâs a crime.â
Robby looked smug. âJealous?â
âNo,â one of them muttered. âJust⌠we all thought it was Abbott.â
Robby paused, then laughed so hard he doubled over.
She sighed, shoved him with the towel, and muttered, âI need a nap.â
âOr,â Robby grinned, falling into step beside her, âyou could come home, shower, and let your very loving, very charming boyfriend feed you tortellini.â
ââŚWhat kind of tortellini?â
He smirked. âThe homemade kind. Youâve been on my mind all day.â
The students watched them go, stunned into silence.
One turned to the others. âThatâs gotta be the biggest plot twist in this hospital.â
The others nodded slowly.
Jack Abbott walked by a moment later, glancing toward the hallway they disappeared into, then at the med students. âWhatâs with the faces?â
One said weakly, âSir, did you know sheâs dating Dr. Robby?â
Abbott blinked. Then snorted. âOf course I know.â
ââŚYouâre not mad?â
âWhy would I be mad?â
âWe thought she was yours.â
Jack gave them a look so dry it could sand furniture. âI have a wife, you morons.â
Then he walked off, chuckling to himself.
#the pitt#the pitt hbo#the pitt imagine#the pitt fanfic#the pitt headcannon#dr robby x reader#dr robby fanfic#dr robinavitch x reader#dr robinavitch#dr robby imagine#michael robinavitch#dr michael robinavitch#dr abbot#dr jack abbott#jack abbott#dr jack abbott imagine#dr jack abbot#dr jack abbot imagine#dr jack abbott headcannon#dr jack abbott fanfic#dr jack abbot x reader#dr robby
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Let Me In
Smoke X Black/WoC Reader X Stack (đđŽâđ¨đĽľ)
A night at the speakeasy that changes yâall lives forever
warnings: uh angst? and twin Mikeâs lol (I wish there was smut but maybe once I see the movie idk)
( SONG FROM SOUNDTRACK BY MY FAV MUST LISTEN đ
so I just had to come back here and update with a song by TanrĂŠlle for the soundtrack!! I just heard it and it soooo the soundtrack for this scene I wrote OMG I CANT DEAL )
side note: not sure if I even wrote that out correctly but the twins share reader there is no incest in the pairing. I thought about this late at night after seeing the trailer that just dropped and yea lol I havenât been in Mikeâs fanfic section in a while and all my Killmonger fics I never post so funny enough without the movie even being out this is my first fic for Mike ever posted.
I may follow up and do more after the movie drops and I see more of their personalities only time will tell. Iâm def playing around with something a little prequel just to show their dynamic a bit but again time will tell đĽľ
itâs so early on idk what to even tag this đ is anyone even reading this now or are we waiting on the movie to drop??
â¤ď¸đ
Smoke stood there yelling trying to calm down the group of hysterical night goers who now found themselves in an impossible situation. A situation that shouldnât be a reality but let the old tales tell it, it was just as true.Â
And now your small group of survivors is finding that out.Â
The lively party under the moon light quickly taking a turn after unwanted guests arrived odd and full of smiles.Â
It started with that Mary woman who had flirted her way in. She was out of place here and maybe thatâs why Stack seemed so intrigued. He never could turn down a mystery, your wild boy.
Now there was no way out that any of you could see just yet but you knew Smoke would think of something, he always did.
Pearl wailed in front of everybody, her body shaking uncontrollably as the other women rushed surrounding her, trying to give some comfort.
You seen Delta take that moment to approach Smoke who was deep in thought, closer to the front door than anyone else. That far away look on his face when he was racking his brain for a solution.Â
The realization that Stack had become a night creature, a vampire from the folklore of time immortal, from tales stretching across the world in different cultures, different languages was unfathomable. He had become whatever they were and it was settling into the group with dread.Â
But none more devastated than Smoke and you.Â
Now while Smoke was thinking of this with the rationality of surviving you just couldnât accept this.Â
âSmoke what we gonâ do without Stack?â Delta tried to whisper. He was unsuccessful because you could still hear him even with the group of women between yâall.Â
You feel the room spinning again and you just need a moment. Hearing him speaking of Stack in that way had the air rushing from your lungs. No not Stack. You thought. Not like this.Â
You know Smoke said for everyone to stay together and away from the walls, the doors, the windows any part of the foundation but you just need a moment because you feel like you canât fucking breathe.Â
Everyone is occupied when you slip away silent in your kitten heels you had choose for the night, your careful to not make noise with your form fitting dress thatâs decorated with beadwork at the hem. All night the dress had swayed and shinned in the low lit speakeasy. You had danced all night your dress adding its own sound to the lively music with the heavy beadwork while switching between the strong arms of your boys during every song when the other wasnât busy.Â
Stack danced with you and Smoke would just hold you and kinda sway as you danced on him. Ever the serious one.Â
You find yourself in the smaller back room thatâs used for storage with a back entrance. Even though you needed a moment the small space was quickly becoming suffocating causing your grief and disbelief to swell within you. It choked you. Now you felt like you were standing out in the fields on a hottest summer Mississippi day. You felt like you were dying.
You quickly realized you were hyperventilating. You needed air.Â
Over your deep breathing you hear softly yet unmistakably beyond the door âItâs ok babyâ. Your blood goes cold and your body freezes.Â
âStack?â You question softly as your eyes start to water while staring straight ahead of you.Â
âYea, itâs me babyâ He says in his familiar thick accent.Â
âHo-how?â You stutter in disbelief. Howâd he know you were back here? Out of everyone it could have been howâd he know it was you? Was he alone? So many questions ran through your head without ever making it to your lips.
âBaby I knew it was you. Donât cry babygirl just open the door foâ meâ He cooâs softly.Â
âI-I canâtâ you replied sounding even unconvinced to your own ears. It feels wrong to deny him.Â
âWhy? Baby I donât wanna be out here no more all alone. let me in so I can get away from these crazy crackersâ He mutters a little bit impatiently. That bit wasnât your Stack. Stack out of the both of them always was patient with you, it was almost sickening how he caved for you.Â
His patienceâs with you gave people the false hood of a saint when his reality was he could flip in a moment. Just like Smokes quietness and how gentle he was with you gave people a false impression of calm man. They were both ticking time bombs on any given day, at any moment.Â
âAnd itâs really you Stack?â You ask again begging your mind to believe what your heart does. That heâs still in there somewhere.Â
Itâs quiet for a moment before he's able to muster an almost forced reply. âOf course-â
âThe hell you doing?â You hear barked behind you in that deep Mississippi drawl.Â
Itâs not even seconds later when you feel his presence behind you and his large hand gripping your arm yanking you slightly back.
âItâs Stack! We have to help him! Let him in! Please Smoke!â You beg facing the other half of your heart, staring up into Smokes eyes. You seen the anger and the hurt swirling in the deep brown. Â
âIt ainât him!â He yells down at you as he towers above you. His handsome face menacing as always.Â
Youâre not sure if everyone had come back with Smoke or if theyâre just getting there but you feel everyoneâs eyes on you. You know they must think you crazy. You seen what everyone else outside the speakeasy did to eachother yet here you are begging for Smoke to find a way to save Stack, bring him back to you.
âOh come on now no fighting with our babygirl, just open up foâ me twinâ Stack taunts from the other side of the door.Â
The sound of his voice has you staring at the door with your conviction growing before Smoke is pulling your attention back to him.Â
âAye. Hey baby look at me thatâs not Stack. Not no moreâ He tries again with concern flickering in his eyes. Heâs not sure what will happen if he canât get you to accept it. His stomach turns with the thoughts of all the possibilities. He canât loose you too. Not now not never.Â
âPlease! Please I canât-I canât leave him out there!! Heâs not safeâ You begged staring up at him. Your eyes pleading with him to understand.Â
But that flicker of concern is quickly extinguished by the anger that replaces it in his brown eyes. Heâs shaking you as he turns you to face him. He needs you to understand.
He yells your name full of anger. âYouâre not safe if you let him in! Heâll kill you and everyone else in this fucking place!â He roars at you.Â
Itâs starting to dawn on Smoke he may have to take more precautions if you donât show him youâve accepted what has happened to Stack.
Youâre not sure why he allows it or if youâve just caught him off guard but you yank your arm away and move near the door.Â
You can feel the tension in the room at your sudden proximity to the door. Thereâs a small opening in the door just about your eye level in your short heels. Itâs about the length of your middle finger and horizontal.Â
âStack pl-please baby please tell me itâs really you. Youâre still my Stack, right?â You beg softly as you stare at Stackâs throat that you can see through the opening. Your fingers inching up to right below the hole. Heâs some how closer and your pointer finger ventures outside just barely to run along his full bottom lip. You shudder at the feel of his skin and how itâs something between hot and cool but not warm. It was odd and unsettling.
Thereâs a long pause and you can feel Smoke slowly move closer to you.Â
The silence is deafening to you as your heart starts to pick back up.Â
You see him shift a bit and when you crane you neck your able to see his eyes. You couldnât see Stacks eyes before, not this close anyway since he changed.
Theyâre grey almost sliver and mostly lifeless, the brown warmth from them missing. But the guilt that flickers across them fans the embers of your hope.Â
What is said next is so soft you almost donât hear it if it wasnât for the view you also had of his lips with the way heâs tilted his eyes to look down at you.Â
But the rasp of his voice is unmistakable when he whispers âI love youâÂ
Your heart canât take it and even if his eyes are different your Stack is still in there somewhere. Your hand rushes the door handle.Â
Itâs not Smokes booming voice behind you yelling âNO!â that startles you, itâs the earth shaking bang on the door in-front of you when you can do longer see Stackâs eyes that freezes your movements. Your hand inches from the handle.
The bang comes again as Stack yells âLet me in!â. Your body feels like you were just dumped into the Mississippi during winter. The cold realization settles over you. No heâs not your Stack, not fully at least.
Had he not banged on the door startling you, you would have surly opened it and thrown yourself into his arms. This was his way of showing you, your Stack that was still in there was trying to get through to you over the force that was consuming his body. He was trying to scare you.
The next bang is just as loud and aggressive and it causes you to stumble, falling back, your hands breaking the fall and scraping against the wooden floor as your bottom takes most of the impact.Â
Your heart is racing faster than you thought possible as you stare up wide eyed at the door Stack continues to bang againstÂ
âLET ME IN!âÂ
You feel Smokes rough hands wrap around your waist pulling you up. His arms wrap around you as you snob in your hands. His full soft lips at your neck shhing and comforting you.
âItâs ok baby, gonna be ok, you safe with meâ Smoke whispers softly against you.Â
They always had their different ways of dealing with you and it just worked having both of them. It wasnât unusual for Smoke to be so soft with you but it didnât happen as often as it did with Stack. Smoke was definitely your grumpy one, hardly if ever smiling if it wasnât for you.Â
They both came in your life at the same time sweeping you off your feet without even trying, They both pulled you in in their own way true to their own personalities. When you realize that you couldnât choose you decided you would walk away, and they refused to let you go. They decided it was only right to share you with boundaries in place over loosing you. It was by far nothing any of you had experienced before or would have been willing with anyone else. But here the three of you were years later. You never looked back.Â
âYou and your man could be together and even better if you come out or let us in little ladyâ Itâs another voice the room full of people hear, his voice, the white man who brought this hell to their little speakeasy paradise.
âSuch a pretty pretty thing, weâd make you a queenâ he continues with a groan almost like he was thinking of how your blood would taste or maybe even more sexual thoughts. Either way it caused you to shudder in Smokes arms pressing more into him.Â
You know you arenât mistaken when you hear a familiar growl. Itâs not him itâs Stack. The sound causes your stomach to turn a bit knowing thatâs the part of him thatâs still Stack. He was always so jealous it was a wonder he was able to handle the relationship of 3. Even turning didnât seem to change that in him. It was a sound you heard many many times before. A man any man would be beat within an inch of his life for disrespecting Stack or Smoke by gazing upon you for a moment too long.Â
Youâre not sure if you should be happy or devastated by the realization. Apart of you wants to be with him, be whatever he is now. Stay by his side like he had always been by hers.Â
But then you feel the warm squeeze of Smokeâs arms behind you and his hands turning you into his chest as the tears you didnât notice start again keep falling.Â
Smokeâs large hands grab your face softly and his thumbs wipes the tears away. You couldnât give up, not when you still had your Smoke. You had to fight for him even if that meant letting go of Stack or whatever Stack had become.Â
His face is close to yours making you hold eye contact.Â
âShh baby mâ here, you safe. Just stay here with meâ He says watching you, you nod finally giving him some relief youâre starting to accept this night and the twisted turn of fate. âIf that was still Stack heâd want you safe baby. We both know that. Heâd want you safe and with me.â
You shake your head in understanding but it doesnât stop the tears. He leans in to softly kiss them away.Â
âWe gonâ be good. Ight baby? I got you.â He promises holding your eyes in place with the conviction in his.Â
And you believe him. Not matter how impossible the situation seemed you believed him to always come through for you.Â
âDid yâall hear that? Whereâs that coming fromâ Delta panics leaving the room to search for the source.Â
You steal a glance back and notice that Stack is still staring through the opening as Smoke pulls you away.Â
âI love youâ you whisper back with a finale look before turing into Smokeâs embrace as he leads you safely away from the temptation of his twin.Â
Smoke knows that Stack is still in there somewhere but his bloodlust seems to be his main controller and  he canât let you hold out on hope and get yourself killed or worse turned trying to prove your love. Trying to prove Stack is still in there.Â
So he keeps you close as possible as they enter the main room following the rest of the group.Â
âI love you Smokeâ you say softly as you stop and look up at him.Â
Smoke knows you do just as much as you love Stack, youâve never shown favorites. He loves you more than heâll ever be able to say, you both know that. After tonight though he might have to work on being able to tell you just how much he does.Â
Smoke doesnât care what happens tonight as long as he gets you safely away from this. Not only for himself but for Stack too.Â
â¤ď¸đ
#michael b jordan#mbj#michael bae jordan#Michael b Jordan fanfic#michael b jordan x black reader#Michael b Jordan x you#sinners#sinners 2025#sinners smoke#sinners stack#ughwrites#ughmike#Michael b Jordan imange#Michael b Jordan x reader
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Lord almighty save me, my brain has been spiraling ever since I read Viltrumite Mark going into heat. đЎđŠˇđŠˇ Now Iâm picturing all the variants having a heat cycle (separately with reader ofc [unlessâ đ reader would break, I fear in the best way though]). Any chance I can request other versions of it, like with No Goggles, MoHawk, Sinister, Omni-Mark or Shiesty? đđđ
đđ˘đđ đđ đđđđ¤ đđ¨đ¨

A/N: Every main, side, and popular variant is in this bitch.
Warnings: Smut, Knotting, Overstimulation, Breeding Kink, Pheromone Play, Power Dynamics, Sub/Dom Dynamics, Heat Cycles, Rough Sex, Penetrative Sex, Cum-Eating, Anal Sex, and etc.
Synopsis: Each version of Mark Graysonâ bratty kings, calculating monsters, broken godsâ crave the same thing: your body, your loyalty, your soul. Youâre a cure and a weakness they crave to keep. Consume him.

â: Lensless, Sinister, Variant #17, Shiesty/Hooded, Mohawk, Masked, Main Mark, Omni-Mark (Teasers): Gangbang, Thragg, Nolan, Atom Eve, Rex, and Rae. (Viltrum Marks Ver: Here.)
Viltrumite Heat Cycles x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 17.1k
Sinister Mark
Sinister Mark didnât fall apart. He broke others physically, mentally, and existentially. The idea of something breaking him was absurd. The usual cocky demeanorâfull of false-promising smiles, had been replaced by something raw: an expression of strife.
So when the heat started... he ignored it. He thought he could power through it like a broken rib. Pain meant nothing to him. Weakness didnât exist in his vocabulary. This couldnât be happening to him. The Invincible, utterly devoid of humanity, felt his knees weaken.
Then he smelled you, and suddenly, he was falling.
It hit him right in the middle of a mission, screams drowned beneath the crackle of fire, blood coating his knuckles, a ruined building collapsing behind him as survivors scrambled to hide. He should have flown home. Insteadâhe flew to you.
Now you stood in front of him in your apartment, lips parted, wearing that thin tank top he had imagined ripping off in more than one intrusive fantasy.
"Mark?" you asked cautiously, eyes scanning his tense body. "You look... flushed." He didnât respond at first. He just stepped inside, his eyes devouring every inch of you like a predator locking onto its prey after weeks of hunting.
"I told myself I wouldnât do this," he muttered, the door clicking shut behind him. "That I could outlast it."
The red haze burning behind his eyes had only intensified. His pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. His jaw clenched, muscles flexing as he fought against the last threads of restraint. He couldn't explain what was happening, only how it feltâthe kind of arousal that outpaced even the blood pumping through his veins.
"But then I thought about you," he said slowly. "About how you'd feel under me. How you'd sound." His smile was humorless. "That's all it took to lose control."
He crossed the room in a blink. One hand slammed into the wall beside your head; the other gripped your waist hard enough to bruise. He inhaled deeply, his nose brushing your neck. You drove him insane in ways other women could only dream of.
"You smell unreal," he raspedâlike temptation, like trouble, like a nuisance he wanted to carry.
"Mark, what is thiâ" you started, but he cut you off with his mouth.
His lips crashed into yours with brutal desperation. There was no hesitation, just raw hunger and the urge to conquer. His tongue forced its way between your lips, teeth clashing clumsily against yours as he fought to taste every part of you. His hands roamed up your sides and under your shirt, gripping you tight, possessive, like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality.
He expected you to melt. To plead. Maybe to behave sweetly, submissively, the way you sometimes did. But noâyou twisted your fingers into his hair and yanked, just enough to make him groan. The ichor from his bloodstained hands smeared across your waist.
"You already know how this ends," he growled, pulling back just long enough to rip the tank top from your body. "I'm not gentle. And right now? Iâm not asking."
His mouth latched onto your throat, your collarbone, devouring the skin there with a feverish fervor. Your fingers tangled again in his hair as he groaned into your neck, grinding his hips against yours, caging you completely against the wall.
"This heatâitâs made me insane for you," he hissed. "I see you in my dreams. I wake up hard and furious that youâre not next to me." You shivered. "Then make it real."
He lifted you effortlessly, his lips claiming yours again, carrying you toward the bedroom like a man possessed. You could feel the heat radiating from him, burning into your skin, muscles twitching beneath the strained spandex of his suit.
Mark wasnât the type to surrender to anything. But tonight, he surrendered to you.
He kissed you like an afterthoughtâlike you were the inevitable conclusion to every version of his day. It was slow at first, almost mocking, daring you to push him away. But you didnât and you wouldn't because you enjoyed the attention. The kiss deepened with a low growl caught in his throatâteeth grazing your bottom lip just enough to sting. His hand curled possessively around your jaw, guiding you, as if he already owned every inch of you.
His breath ghosted over your face, and then you were dropped onto the mattress. He dove in after you, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could keep him alive.
It was slow, but not sweet. He peeled your clothes off like he was unwrapping a weapon. His hands slid beneath your shirt, brushing your ribsâhis eyes flickering with dark amusement even as his touch trembled with lust. His fingers traced every curve that had haunted his dreams.
Your palms pressed against the mattress, knees spread just wide enough to hold your balance but not wide enough for him. You felt the bed dip behind you as he settled inâlooming, warm, suffocating. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving marks that would bloom into bruises.
His breath seared your neckâhot, hungry, trembling with restraint. His chest pressed flush against your back, his body vibrating with need. You shivered, not from cold, but from the way he gripped you, as if he needed to devour you to survive.
"Youâre so wet I could drown in you," he growled into your ear, his voice curling around you like smoke. "Maybe I should."
His hand traced a deliberate path down your spine, dragging heat and chills alike until he reached your hips. His thumbs hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down just past your hips before letting them fall. He paused there, worshipful, possessive. One finger slipped beneath your panties, teasingâand with a hard tug, he tore them apart.
He left your underwear for last, dragging his thumbs over the soaked fabric before sliding it off, letting his eyes drink you in. "So worth the wait," he muttered. He didnât break eye contact with your reflection in the mirror across the room. His nose twitched as he inhaled sharply. "You love this," he said, voice low. "Donât lie to me. I can smell you."
Before you could even scoff, his teeth sank into your shoulderâa deep, burning mark that drew a startled cry from your throat. The pain melted fast into pleasure, flaring hot and low in your belly. His hips ground against your ass, cock pressed thick and heavy between your thighs. His whole body trembled, every shred of his usual composure slipping.
"You love this," he growled again. "Donât lie. I can feel your body begging me to ruin it." You pushed back against himâgrinding slow, deliberate, a smile tugging at your lips. "Go ahead," you whispered. "Show me how weak you really are." His groan was feral. "Still so mouthy," he hissed, voice ragged. "Fine."
There was no warning, no teasing. Just one brutal thrustâstretching you open, hot and unrelenting. A gasp tore from your throat, your hands scrabbling for the bed frame as your back arched into him. He held you thereâchest pressed to your backâhis whole body shaking from the effort not to lose control.
"Fuck, you feel perfect," he muttered, his voice splintering. "You always do."
You bit down on his shoulder until he hissed, dragging your nails down his side until his hips bucked into you, the bed shuddering beneath the force. He didnât stop. His body was on autopilot now, pounding into you until your vision blurred and your body clamped around him like a vise.
The heat didnât just fuel himâit destroyed him. It turned his pleasure into something darker, something he had no hope of resisting. He didnât want to fuck you. He wanted to etch himself into your nervous system. "Fuck," he rasped, forehead pressed to the back of your neck. "Youâre so tight, so warm... I could die inside you."
His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, the words so hoarse and broken they barely sounded like him anymore. He rolled his hips, grinding slow and deep, making you feel every desperate second he was buried inside you. His fingers slipped down between your thighsâstroking the swollen, soaked mess he had made of you. Your body shuddered at his touch, and a cry escaped your lips, only spurring him on.
"Youâre dripping," he groaned. "All for me. Only for me."
He wanted every gasp to come from him. Every soft whimper to bear his name. He would fuck you slow and cruel just to see how long it would take before you started begging. And afterwardâwhen you were wrecked and mindlessâhe would kiss you sweetly, because that was the worst part: how completely you unraveled him and how much he lived for it.
It was a craving so deep it rewired his instincts. Pain felt good. Pleasure felt like war. His eyes rolled into his skull at the sight of your ass bouncing back against him, the sheer force rocking you into his pelvis over and over. "Look at youâpathetic," he panted, the words filthy but breathless. "So easy once I start fucking you right."
The heat was overwhelming. His strangled whimpers filled the air around you, cracked and broken, raw with desperation. "Just squirming for me... so much for that sharp mouth."
There was no real bite behind the words now. Only the heaving rasp of a man on the edge of combustion. His body shuddered against yours, his hips stuttering. For a moment, you could feel his cock softeningâbut every dragging pull of your body around him yanked him back in like a magnet.
He pounded into you, hips moving erratically, his breaths ragged, sweat dripping down his temple. The orgasm building inside him sent violent twitches down his spine, his thrusts matching the rattling pace of his racing heart. He drove into you hard and deep, the swollen tip of his cock catching against your cervix each time, sending you reeling.
His hands were everywhereâgreedy, rough, almost clumsy with need. You felt him rut against you like a man lost, desperate to get closer, closer still. The wet, obscene sounds of your bodies meeting filled the room, slick and loud, as your head dipped into the mattress from sheer sensory overload.
He made you wait for it. His tongue trailed your nape first, teasing along the curve of your neck, slow and lazy, like he was memorizing you. And when he finally bit, it wasnât playful but rather purposeful and ragged. A deepâanchoring pressure that made you jolt under him. You felt the throb of it shoot down your whole body.
He wanted you marked, bruised, maybe even bleeding. He wanted proof that you belonged to him, proof that no matter what happened tomorrow, tonight you were his. You werenât a weakness. You were a religion, and this was his new form of prayer.
He moved faster, harder, his hand clutching your hip so tight it was almost painful. You knew it wouldnât take much moreâthe way you clenched around him, the way your body opened for him, made his mind blank.
When you came, screaming his name, your body convulsing so hard you thought you might shatter, he sobbed. Not loudâjust a soft, wrecked sound against your ear, so broken it barely made it out of his throat.
Because you had won again. He was truly weak during these rutsâand though he'd never admit itâhe secretly wanted it that way. The night was far from over. His balls were heavy with another load already, the ache undeniable, and you noticed. You always noticed.
As you turned, straddling him for another round, he stared up at you, eyes wild and almost feverish. His voice broke when he murmured, "Please. Please ride me. Iâll shut up. Iâll be so quiet."
The scent of scorched cedar clung to the air, thick and heady. It wrapped around you, seeped into your skin, and filled your lungs until it made your head spin. You breathed it in and felt huntedâand weirdly, wanted.
When you sank onto him again, it was a slow, brutal stretch. His cock filled you completely, locking into place as he groaned through gritted teeth, his hands trembling where they gripped your hips. His forehead dropped to your neck, his fingers curling under your jaw to guide you down harder onto him when the knot started swelling.
He didnât panic, nor did he hesitate. He had planned this. And when you tried to move, he growled low in your throat and pinned you down harder, hips grinding deep to milk every ounce of sensation from both your bodies.
"I donât want fast," he whispered roughly. "I want slow torture. Let me feel every single inch... again." You could only gasp as he rutted up into you, deep and slow, grinding your bodies together until it was impossible to tell where you ended and he began.
Omni Mark
He hadnât planned to see you tonight. Omni-Mark had half the galaxy kneeling at his feet, another third begging for mercy, and the rest daring to defy him. That shouldâve occupied his attention. But the heat came early.
It was unforgiving. He fought it at first, of course he did. Viltrumites were above their biologyâor so they thoughtâbut this wasnât a subtle ache or dull need. This was a burning, a low snarl in his blood that turned every thought into you. Whether it was your voice, your body, or your scent.
Now, here he stood in your doorway, fists clenched so hard his gloves tore, sweat beading on his forehead despite the icy chill in the air. âYou donât know what youâre asking for,â he warned, his voice low, reverberating like thunder in a canyon. You raised an eyebrow, only half-dressed in a sleep shirt. âI never asked for anything. I want you to let go, Mark.â
That made something snap in him.
In an instant, he was on you, hands gripping your waist, slamming the door shut with the other. His mouth crashed into yours in a passionate, suctioning kiss that pulled the air from your lungs. His lips were soft, molding against yours as his tongue gently caressed yours. You barely registered the way your feet left the groundâhis grip tightening possessively. He pulled away just long enough to nuzzle into the crook of your neck.
âYouâre soft⌠too soft,â he breathed, eyelids fluttering like he was trying to snap himself out of the trance you had pulled him into. âYou think I havenât dreamed about this?â he growled against your ear. âYou think I havenât imagined burying myself in you while the universe burns around us?â
You clawed at the armor along his arms, gasping when he bit down on your neckâhard enough to leave a mark but not break skin. You felt the growl building in his chest, the way his whole body vibrated with restraint. âYouâre my weakness,â he confessed between fevered kisses. âI shouldâve destroyed you when I realized what you meant to me.â
âBut you didnât,â you whispered.
âI couldnât,â he admitted.
He dropped you onto the bed like the princess you were. His costume peeled away in pieces, every inch of exposed skin rippling with tensionâthe kind of power that could level continents, yet somehow was gentle with you. You reached for him, but he caught your wrists and pinned them above your head.
âDonât,â he said, his voice trembling. âIf you touch me right now, I wonât be able to stop.â
âMaybe I want to be ruined,â you whispered, your words like honey blessing his ears.
He crashed down onto you, desperate, kissing you with reverence and fury at once. His mouth mapped every inch of your body like a man on borrowed time. His lips trembled slightly against your skin, and an unfamiliar greed lingered in his touch. His hands explored and gripped every valley and curve he could reach, leaving your skin warm with the imprint of his palms.
âYouâre mine,â he murmured against your mouth, over and over like a mantra. âYouâre mine. Youâll always be mine.â His voice cracked, that calm, collected demeanor unraveling to reveal the boy he once was.
Omni-Mark didnât believe in surrender. But with you beneath him, gasping his name, begging for more, he didnât need to.
He kissed like an emotion given shapeâlike someone who was never taught softness, only possession, but craved it so. When his mouth met yoursâit wasnât tentative. There was no gentle testing of the waters. It was hunger and desperation, devouring you like he was terrified heâd never taste you again. His hands cupped your jaw, a little too tight, while his body caged you in with muscle and need, heat radiating off him in heavy, sweltering waves.
He watched the way your knees buckled when he finally pulled back, panting, red-eyed, drunk on the taste of you. âYou call that a kiss?â he rasped, lips already slick with yours, pupils blown wide. âTry again. Put your back into it.â
You felt the shift instantly. His hand curled around the back of your neck, firm but not rough, holding you there as his tongue pushed deeper into your mouth. The kiss grew sloppyâfast, breathless, and messyâhis breath catching every time your hips brushed. He walked you backward without breaking the connection, steps deliberate until your thighs met the edge of the bed frame. His hand dragged down your sideâpalming the curve of your ass like he was checking to make sure you were real.
When your fingernails scraped gently up the back of his neck, he moaned into your mouthâquiet, raw, almost ashamed of how much it affected him. His cock was already hard, pressing against the fabric of his pants, grinding into your hip like a need he couldnât reason with anymore.
He unwrapped you like you were a relic unearthed in some war-ravaged city. Like something precious and divine that was buried beneath fabric. His fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, but he didnât yank. He peeled it away, inch by slow inch, eyes locked onto you as your breath shuddered with every inch of exposed skin.
When he got to your underwear, his hand lingeredânot out of hesitation, but because he was reeling. His thumb brushed over the fabric, memorizing you, before he diligently undressed you. His eyes glazed over like a man about to feast.
You were already seated in his lap when the snap beneath his skin finally broke open and all that restraint crumbled into dust. His scent grew sharp and sticky, like the smell of rain on dry earth. His arms came around you from behindâforearms like iron bars across your stomach as you rocked against him. You could feel every inch of him beneath you: his cockâheavy and flushedâalready pressed between your slick folds. His head bowed low, lips dragging from your shoulder to the shell of your ear.
âYouâre shaking,â he muttered darkly, his voice frayed with strain. âIs it the heat... or me?â You didnât answer with words. Instead, you pressed your hips back deliberately, grinding into him slowly, cruelly. He shuddered, biting back a moan like it betrayed him.
He wasnât ready to slide into you yet. He wanted you to feel it first. Wanted you gasping from the pressure of him nudging against your entrance. His teeth sank into your nape like he was starving, tongue dragging after to soothe the sting only to suck the skin back into his mouth.
âThis isnât about powerâitâs about you letting me have it all,â he whispered against your neck, his voice wet and sick with hunger. He wanted to ruin you so gently youâd fall even deeper in love. âTell me to stop. Just say it. Please.â His final warning, his final plea. He was never the most talkative, but he whispered murmurs against your skin like it was his coping mechanism.
Heeding his warning, you ignored him. Instead, you ground down harder, once, twice, teasing your entrance just enough to let him slip inside. It was over.
He groaned, the sound uncharacteristically high, and thrust up in one gripping, seamless motion. Your body gave with a lurch, your eyes fluttering shut as the air punched from your lungs. He bottomed out instantlyânudging every ridge, heavy, and throbbing deep inside you, but didnât move.
âNo?â he whispered. âThen take it. Take all of it.â
âI warned you.â He gritted his teeth, biting back broken whines. His forehead pressed against your neck, lips brushing over your skin as if to muffle his own groans.
âIâll be gentleâthen Iâll break you. And youâll thank me." Your body pressed flush against his, the cool air in the room doing nothing to temper the heat radiating off his skin. Omni-Markâs breath was steady at firstâcontrolled, just like everything else he did. Even now, with you seated in his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, he held himself like a soldier at war. His palms smoothed over your waist, thumbs stroking reverently at the dip of your hips, almost as if he was trying to memorize how you felt beneath his hands.
"You donât know what you do to me," he murmured against your shoulder. "You were supposed to make me stronger. Not... this."
His thrusts were slow, intentional, and deep. Every movement pressed you forward just enough for his pelvis to grind against your clit, the friction exquisite in its cruelty. He wasnât ruttingâhe was studying you. Each drag of his cock was a question: Will this make you break first? But you didnât.
Instead, you sank your hips back harder, rolling your spine as you moaned, letting him feel just how much you needed him. You caught his gaze over your shoulder, lips curling into a smile that wasnât softâit was sharp, daring. His fingers flexed hard enough around your hips to leave bruises, the illusion of his control slipping.
"Quiet?" you teased through heavy breaths, tilting your head back against his shoulder. "Is that focus... or fear?" He said nothing, almost smiling to himself as you mocked him. He just growled low in his throat, his hands clenching tighter as he jerked you back onto him, forcing you to take him even deeper. His breathing hitched violently.
His hand slipped between your thighs, two fingers pressing firmly against your clit, stroking tight, slow circles that made your whole body jerk. Your hands clutched at his knees for balance, pleasure spiking through you like electricity.
"You speak so boldly," he rasped against your ear, his voice almost tender despite the way his fingers worked you. "But I can feel it. How badly you need me."
His free hand moved to your breast, kneading and squeezing, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they hardened under his touch. His whole body was trembling now, his thighs shuddering beneath you as he thrust upward with brutal need. His hips stuttered. His breath caught ragged in his throat. The moan that escaped him was broken and rough, like it hurt to keep it inside.
He clamped his hands around your thighs, grinding you down onto him with force, pelvis slapping hard against your ass. The rhythm grew messy, erratic. You gasped as he spread your legs wider, one hand bracing you open, the other never relenting from your clit. You were shaking, spasming around him, nerves lighting up and snapping under the overwhelming pleasure.
He felt itâfelt the way you clenched around himâand his groan turned desperate. Thatâs when it happened.
His breath hitched against your skin, hot and heavy, and he sank his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulderânot sharp, but crushing. A deep, anchoring bite that made your knees buckle. There was no teasing graze. No playful nip. It was brutal and real, the final claim.
Your blood hummed beneath his tongue. His growl ripped through his chest like something primal and unhinged, all of his restraint gone in an instant. When he pulled back, your neck throbbed with the mark he leftâa vow burned into flesh.
He stilled for a second, trembling, forehead pressed to your temple, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he could fuse you to him if he only squeezed hard enough.
And then he came. It wasnât silentâit tore from him in a broken, gasping sound, raw and utterly human. His hips bucked forward once, twice, grinding himself as deep as he could go. You could feel the heat of him spilling inside you, thick and hot, flooding your cunt until it leaked out around the base of him.
The knot swelled suddenly, locking you both together with a sharp stretch that made you both gasp aloud. He stayed buried to the hilt, unmoving for a moment except for the erratic trembling in his thighs. His fingers curled around your jaw, forcing you to tilt your head back so he could kiss youâsoft, almost reverent, as if he couldn't believe you were real.
He didnât slow. He didnât stop. "Weâre not done," he murmured hoarsely against your lips. His voice was frayed and trembling, nothing like the god he was to everyone else. It was raw and human and yours.
"I've made you cum before," he panted. "Again. And again. Tonightâs no different."
You could already feel him swelling again, already twitching inside you, the knot keeping you right where he wanted. It was thick, full, and practically immovable as he rested his forehead against your cheek. His hips began to move again, slow and grinding, sending aftershocks of pleasure straight through your gut.
Omni-Mark wasnât the type to give up. Not when it came to you. Especially not now. Not when he had all night and all of you.
Full Masked Mark
He didnât knock. You found him in your room, standing in the darkâhalf-shadowed beneath the blue light leaking in from the city. He hadnât removed the mask, just hovered there, tense, and breathing too hard.
âMark?â
He didnât respond. You took a step forward, and he flinchedâhis hand tightening into a fist so hard his knuckles cracked beneath the glove. âI shouldnât be here,â he said finally, his voice hoarse, cracking like old porcelain. âIâI canât trust myself.â You stopped moving. âItâs happening, isnât it?â
He nodded once. âThe heat. I felt it coming for days. Thought I could outrun it.â His head tilted, his voice almost breaking. âI ran here.â You didnât question it. Not the fact that he trusted you with thisâsomething he clearly didnât understand, something that made him feel wrong. You stepped close enough for him to see the softness in your eyes.
âYouâre not going to hurt me, Mark.â His brows furrowed, his body suddenly becoming tense. But the way his body ached for you, the way his strength spasmed as he imagined fucking you raw with the memory of countless nights fucking his fist in your bed⌠he couldnât tell.
His breath hitched audibly behind the mask. âYou donât know that. Iâm not like the others. IâI think about you too much. I dream about you. And in those dreams, Iââ His voice cut off with a choked gasp.
âI miss her,â he whispered. âSheâd know what to do.â
Your heart broke. He was burning up inside, trembling with unspent want, haunted by grief and biology and years of holding himself together with cracked pieces of identity. You stepped closer. âLet me help you,â you whispered, hands gently brushing the hem of his mask. âYou donât have to do this alone.â
He didnât move as you slid it off. Underneath, his face was flushed, wet with tears he hadnât realized he was crying. His jaw was clenched like he was fighting himself from the inside out. And then you touched his faceâjust a thumb across his cheekâand the dam burst.
He surged forward, mouth on yours in a desperate, needy kiss. There was no dominance, no forceâjust raw emotion and trembling urgency. His hands gripped your waist like you were the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely.
âIâve wanted this,â he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. âWanted you. But it never felt fair.â
âItâs not about fair, Mark,â you whispered, unzipping his suit slowly. âItâs about what we want.â
His lips found your throat, reverent and shaky, like he was worshipping every inch of you he touched. His fingers trembled against your skin as he helped you undress, his breath stuttering every time you made a sound. When he finally lowered you onto the bed, it was with a gentleness that felt sacred. He was utterly devoted, his lips parting as unabashed whines and whimpers in your name spouted from his lips.
âYouâre so warm,â he whispered, nuzzling your chest, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. âYou feel like home.â You pulled him in, let him bury himself in your arms and your body, and let him feel safe while the storm inside him raged and broke.
âDonât let go,â he murmured, kissing your shoulder. âEven if I fall apart.â
You kissed him back, holding him through the fire. âI wonât.â
And he didnât fall apart. He broke open, in the best possible way.
And then he kissed you like it's the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Itâs wet and trembling, like heâs trying not to let his body take over too fast. His hands shake where they touch you, fingers curling into your shirt as if you might disappear if he lets go. âM-missed you,â he stammers into your mouth, kissing again before you can reply. He chases your lips, nose bumping clumsily against yours, and sighs when your hands pull him closer. âLet me stay... just a little longer.â
Like being wrapped in something wet and hot and too much. His scent is thick with desperation. It pulses with each pant from his lips. The longer he holds back and the heavier it becomesâneed turned physical. A pheromone so raw it drips off him like sweat. It smells of molten amber and pine sap. The type that fogs up mirrors, clings to your sheets, and fills your mouth. It says, Heâs not fucking for pleasureâheâs fucking to survive. And only you can keep him sane. His bones ache, every cell in his body screaming to break his restraints, but he canât help but treat you gently.
You could tell his usual gentleness and restraint were bursting at the seams. Almost like he was still deciding if he should even be touching you at all. But then you made a soundâsoft, breathy, invitingâand it destroyed whatever hesitation he had left.
The scent of you had soaked between your thighsâa dizzying blend of heat and arousal that made his chest rise with ragged restraint. His jaw clenched. His eyes devoured you, shoulders heaving, hands trembling with the effort of not lunging. The suit remained half onâhis skin flushed and damp beneath the edges of his armor. But even while he stayed dressed, he made sure you werenât.
Because in heat, Mark didnât want just access to your bodyâhe wanted your vulnerability. All of it. And before you knew it, your back was against the mattress.
His cock is thick, not monstrous, but unmistakable and it fits him perfectly. Hard, flushed, curved slightly upward, the tip already slick with need. It twitches when you look at it, eager, the kind of erection that speaks more of obsession than pride. And when he finally presses himself against you, itâs not just hungerâitâs worship in motion.
His body trembled as he positioned himself between your legs, jaw clenched so tight it ached. His skin burned under the mask, damp with sweat, heart pounding out of rhythm like it was trying to crawl from his chest. The heat coiled in his gut like a second heartbeatâviolent, possessive, undeniable. His cock throbbed with every shallow breath he took, already leaking against your thigh, twitching with the need to bury itself deep.
He entered you slowly, almost reverently, but it was clear from the start: this wasnât about control anymore. Not that he had any. Your folds are slick, swollen, already glistening with arousal; he's too far gone to pretend not to notice. His wildest instincts flared against his reddened skin. His breath hitched the moment you tightened around him, the heat inside him flaring like a wildfire fanned by gasoline.
âI didnât know it could feel like this. I didnât know you would feel like this,â he said, through a lump of saliva stuck in his throat. You two have had sex before, but this was a transcendence of normal sensations. Like an aphrodisiac had poisoned his every beingâonly craving to have you. Every inch he gave you sent a tremor through his spine. His hands gripped your thighs too hard, fingers digging into the plush of your skin as if anchoring himself to realityâto you. Choked gasps echoed from you as pain mingled with pleasure.
His hips rocked with shallow, fluid thrusts, but his body betrayed him. Sweat dripped down his temples. His thighs flexed beneath you. The very fat of his lips felt suffocating now, his groans catching behind it, as if he were trying to bite down every soundâbut the whines slipped through. Small, needy, devastated.
When his mouth found your neck, it wasnât a kiss. It was a branding. His teeth grazed your skin, his tongue darting out to soothe the stingâonly to repeat the ritual again and again. You felt the tremor in his chest every time he breathed you in. With every nip, your body jolted against him, clamping down as you curled into him. He was trying to restrain himself, to stay present. To worship you. Your skin curved upward as shaky gasps left your fingers clawing at his shoulder blades before you barely grazed his shoulder with your fangs, and he gaspsâa full-body jolt that ends with him moaning your name. âAhâwhaâfuck, do it againâplease, IâI like that, I really like thatââ His hips buck into yours without rhythm, lost in the sensation.
But his body pulsed with hunger, and your scent had soaked into his bones like poison. He was hardâtoo hardâthe kind of painful pressure that fogged his brain and turned every thought into a raw, burning need to come. He didnât last long before instinct buckled his knees.
Suddenly, he surged forward, hips snapping into yours with more force, more desperation. âCan you feel how deep I am? I need to be deeper.â His body moved on its ownâsharp, ragged thrusts as if chasing relief he already knew wouldnât come easy. He whimpered against your collarbone, low and broken, like it hurt to need you this much. Like, if he came, it wouldnât be enough. He tried to slow down again, pulling his hips back to regain control, but the second your body clenched around him in replyâhe lost it.
He flipped you onto him without thinking, your chest sliding against his sweat-slicked torso. His hands ghosted over your back like you were made of glass, but his eyes? Glazed. Wild. You sank down on him again, and he cried outânot loud, but breathless. Helpless. âItâs okay, Mark⌠Iâll take it from here.â
You started to ride him, each movement smooth and sensual, and it shattered what little composure he had left. Gooseflesh peppered across your skin as your vision blurred, moving absentmindedly through groans. His hands clawed at your hipsâdesperate for something to hold. His thighs trembled beneath you, every muscle pulled taut like a man bracing for impact. You were moving too good, too slow, too deepâand the look on your face drove him mad.
âMark⌠oh, fâfuck, Mark.â His name on your lips was like a spell. âSay my name again⌠please, I need to hear it when you touch me, mâmommy.â His groan was so broke it borderlined slutty. You leaned down and nipped at his chest, your tongue tracing the contours of his body, and he arched into you so sharply it bordered on pain. The groan that left him was guttural and shamefulâhis cock twitching so hard inside you it made your stomach flip. He was trying to last. You could see it in how hard his jaw clenched, how his fingers trembled where they held you, and how his entire body was one breath away from breaking.
You rolled your hips faster, and his head fell back against the pillows, mouth parted in a gasp that never fully came. His release hit like a landslide, thighs spasming, chest heaving beneath you. He spilled inside you with a full-body jolt, his fingers digging into your skin like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His hips kept movingâjust barelyâlike his body hadnât realized it was over. Like it didnât want it to be.
His hips roughly buck upwards, the dominance within battling with his personality. He swells, his pelvis pressing into you as it forces every obsessive emotion out of him. And even as he lay there, breathless, unraveling beneath you, he didnât let go. One hand slid up your back. The other held your hip still, his cock still twitching inside you. His body was still burning.
Because it wasnât over. Not even close.
It wasnât his choice; he tried to fight it. He wants to hold back. But when he finally gives in and marks you, the bite is sloppyâmessy with saliva and a low, broken whine in your ear. He bites twice, just to feel it again. His knot slowly forms as he clings to you, speech slurring as he becomes barely coherent. You feel his whole body tense as his teeth graze, then dig in. The second bite is deeper, so sudden you yelp. His grip tightens. âIâIâm sorry, I justâI needed you to know youâre mine.â
Main Mark Grayson
You didnât expect him to show up at your place at two in the morningâespecially not looking like that. Hair wild, eyes glowing faintly gold, his shirt drenched in sweat and clinging to his chest. His hands were shaking and his voice was frantic.
âHeyâhiâuh, this might be crazy, but I think Iâm, like⌠dying?â
You blinked. âMark⌠what?â
He paced your living room, tugging at his clothes, cheeks flushed. âYeah, so, umâmy dad kind of warned me this might happen one day? Something about Viltrumite biology and⌠a heat cycle?â Your heart stuttered. Oh. Oh. Suddenly, you were very intrigued.
He froze mid-ramble, turning to you, eyes wide and full of panic. âI smelled you, okay? On the way home. I was flying, and then boomâyour scent hit me like a truck, and now Iâm likeâ" He gestured down to his very obvious, very painful erection. âTHIS.â
You bit your lip, trying to stay calm while your thighs absolutely clenched. âMark, sit.â
He obeyed immediately, flopping onto your couch like a broken marionette, head falling into his hands. âI swear Iâm not a creep. I justâGod, you smell so goodââ
You crossed the room slowly and sat next to him. He tensed like a live wire.
You touched his knee, and he whimpered. The poor boy almost looked embarrassed before his jaw clenched to bite back another sound. It was subtle, but his head tilted as his nose flexedâinhaling your scent like the sweetest dessert as heat broke his skin into a red flush.
âI donât know what to do,â he whispered, his voice cracking. âIt hurts. It aches, and all I can think about is you. How soft your skin is. How you taste when I kiss youâGod, Iâve imagined it so many timesââ You took his face gently in your hands, turning him to look at you. âMark,â you said softly. âDo you want this? With me?â
He nodded so fast it almost looked painful. âYes. Yes, I do. Iâve wanted thisâbut not like this. I didnât want to scare you. But now Iâm losing it, and I need you. Please.â
You kissed him before he could spiral further. He gasped, then melted into it, grabbing your hips like they were the last stable thing in his universe. His mouth was hot, desperate, already starting to shake as the heat flared stronger.
You slid your hands under his shirt, feeling the sweat-slick heat of his skin. He shivered, grinding up against you with a needy groan. âI feel like Iâm going to explode,â he whispered against your neck. âLike I could fly through the moon just from touching you.â
You tugged the cloth off, eyes roaming his flushed, muscular form. Within seconds, a familiar musk perspired from his pores. It was warm. An after-battle scent that's adrenaline-laced with sweat-slicked sandalwood and a subtle sweetness of red apple skin. The smell of his cologne clashed as if he had tried grounding himself before arriving. The kind of scent that clings to your sheets and drives you crazy when heâs gone. Suddenly, you felt vertiginous with a mixture of lust and reason clashing within your veins. It was so easy to relinquish control to whatever temptation awaited.
ââŚAre you mad? Or are you gonna kiss me before I combust?â He said nervously, brows furrowing upwards.
You blinked, surprisedâthen realized heâd mistaken your stunned silence, the way your breath caught, and your hands hesitated for doubt. Not awe. You straddled his lap, gently guiding his trembling hands to your hips, grounding him now.
âMark,â you said softly, pulling his mouth back to yours, âIâm not scared. I want this. I want you.â
He groaned into your kissârelieved, wrecked, like the words unraveled something in him. And when he kissed you back? It was like he was learning it all for the first time, like youâre teaching him with every sigh. But the moment his hips shift against yours, instinct takes over. He groans into your mouth, the kiss going from nervous to needy in seconds. His fingers curl into your thighs, pulling you closer with soft pants between kisses. Again and againâfaster, deeperâlike he's afraid of what happens if he pulls away. âYou make it worse. Being this closeâI justâplease⌠let me have this.â And when you nod, he kisses you like itâs a thank you and a promise in one.
He didnât hold anything back. His hands found your waist, your thighs, your chest, everywhere at once, guided by instinct and passion. His breath caught as you guided his hands, his hips, and his rhythm.
Mark Grayson didnât know what he was doing, but he learned fast.
You barely got your shirt off before his mouth was on your throat again. Not kissing. Breathing, tasting even. He was fumbling at your clothes like he couldnât figure out if he wanted to take them off or just fuck you through them. He doesnât mean to be messyâbut his heat is driving him crazy.
Inhaling your scent like it soothed the ache in his chest. His hands trembled at your waist, thumbs brushing bare skin like he was trying to remember how to be gentle, how to be Markâbut the heat was too much.
He's been aching for hours. His cock started reacting before he even knew whyâjust the sound of your laugh, or the memory of how your hand felt the night before, was enough to make him twitch. Like a magnetic force building pressure in his chest and groin that no amount of willpower can settle. His heart beats faster when youâre close, but not because heâs nervous. But from burying his face in your skin and rutting like an animal.
The instinctive, all-consuming need to bury himself deep and never leaveâto feel your cunt pulse around him until he doesnât know where you end and he begins. He wants to merge with you in every way imaginable. Every inch of skin feels like it's starving to the point where sex might not be enough. His nervous system feels alight, all senses searching for yours, like that's their purpose.
His calloused fingers slid your panties down your thighs, soaked through, his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might snap. His hips lifted, hand palmed at his soiled erection before yanking down the fabric. Veins ran the length of his cockâthe usual pink tip was an irritated redâand it was heavy as it smacked against his abdomen. He jumped, bucking into the air as cold precum bubbled from his tip.
Too impatient to fully undress, he let you take the reins, legs wrapping around his waist. His breath hitched like youâd struck him. You settled into his cross-legged lap, chests pressed together, skin to skin, cockslick hot between your foldsâand he froze.
Not from hesitation. But because his entire body short-circuited.
He entered you slowly, like he was trying to feel every second of it. Your walls stretched around him, wet and pulsing, and he moanedâdeep, wrecked, like he hadnât even meant to. You clutched around him, and his head dropped to your shoulder, arms wrapping tight around your back as your bodies fully sealed together. Every bulging vein was caressed, arousal threatening to erupt.
He rocked his hips, slow and intense. Grinding into you like it was the only thing keeping him conscious. Then came the whisper. Low. Ragged. Right against your throat. âMineâŚâ His hips rolled with it. You gasped. âMine,â again, softer, needier, as his cock dragged in slow circles inside you, the pressure growing unbearable.
He buried his face in your neck like it would keep him grounded, hips moving with desperate rhythmânot pounding, but grinding, searching for friction, pleasure, and closeness. Like your body was his whole world. He shook. A full-body tremor that told you he was losing it. Your legs tightened around him, head tilted towards the ceiling as strobe lights clouded your vision from his thrusting.
Through hitching breaths, you stammered, âThatâs it. Just like that. You feel it too, donât you?â You gulped, his lips tracing over your bobbing throat. âI canât think, I canâtâGod, you feel so good.â He heaved, tongue running over your clavicle as he sought every drop of sweat. âYouâre squeezing me so hardâare you trying to kill me?â His tongue tickling you sent shivers down your spine, causing his arms to wrap tighter, feeding off every vibration.
And then he fell forward. Not collapsingâjust pressing you back onto the mattress, hips never leaving yours. Still buried inside you, still grinding as he held you like his anchor. His mouth found yours, kissing you hard, hand at your lower back dragging your hips forwardâtrying to keep you pressed to his cock even as his muscles gave out. âHarder. Please. I can take it,â you gasped, fingers clawing at the couch material. âGod, you make me lose control. I canât stopânot when you sound like that.â A whimper and deep groan rumbled in his chest as he nearly doubled over, his hips pushing forward as your head collided with the armrest.
When he finally cameâdeep, groaning, clingingâhis thrusts didnât stop. He just rode through it, fucked through it, face against your chest, body shaking. And when the wave passed? He shifted you both gently, his body still connected to yours, curling behind you like a second skin. You stared wide-eyed; his eyes were glazed over, and he whispered uncharacteristically in your ear. âIâm gonna keep going until your legs wonât close without me between them.â Heâs not cruel. Heâs possessed. He wants to wreck you because he loves youâand it terrifies him how much he needs it. âI just need you so bad,â he pants. âGod, youâre beautiful.â
Your knees bent as he nudged closer, cock sliding back inside you from behindâspooning now, softer, deeper, but no less desperate.
He kissed your shoulder. His hand found your thigh and pulled it up. His cock dragged in slow, aching thrusts that felt like a secret. But the moment your hips shiftedâeven the slightest grind back against himâhe whimpered. His hips rolled forward on reflex, just enough for you to feel how he was still thick, still twitching inside you, still needing.
He started moving. Small thrusts. Like he was trying to be good, to hold back. But every slow drag of his cock inside you made his breath catch, made his arm around your waist tighten. Your body was still so wet, so warm, so welcoming. It pulled the heat right back to the surfaceâhe pummeled into you now, forehead pressed to the back of your shoulder, hips snapping forward in slow, aching rolls that never left you empty. Every inch of him throbbed with restraint. His body buzzed with heat and urgency, but you could feel the emotion under it.
He was fucking you like he meant it. Like your body answered a question he hadnât realized he was asking. His hand slid over your thighâpalm dragging up your slick skin until he reached your chest. He gripped it, not hard, just possessively. Like if he held you tight enough, he could force the ache in his stomach to ease. Like the way your breath hitched made it bearable.
Your ass rocked back against him now, unconsciously meeting every rut of his hips, and he gasped quietly, but cracked open with it. His pace faltered, and then, he grinded.
A long, deep press of his cock, slow enough for you to feel every vein, every throb as he pulsed inside you. He whimpered again as you clenched, mouth open against your nape like he couldnât breathe without you. âOh, fuck, Mark.â Your voice cut through his thoughts like a knife; a deep groan vibrated in your throat as an impending orgasm washed over you.
Heâs trying to be gentleâhe swears he is. But the second you cry out his name, the dam breaks. He groans low in his throat, body trembling as he leans over you, breath hot against your skin. âFuckâI need toâŚâ He presses his lips to the base of your neck first, shaky and reverentâthen you feel the slow pressure of his teeth. He bites down harder than he intended, and your back arches. His heat-maddened body needs you claimed. Mark shudders, lips wet as he pulls back just enough to whisper, âYouâre mine. SorryâI couldnâtâI couldnât stop.â His hand flies over your mouth to quiet the pain and pleasured grunts. He couldn't handle it. Until you bit into the web between his thumb and pointer finger.
He yelpsâthen moans, breathless, like you just knocked all the air out of him. His face flushes red all the way to his ears, his hips stuttering against you. âD-donât stop doing that,â he begs, voice cracking. You feel him start to swell, and he panicsâeyes wide, voice stuttering, body tense. He tries to stop moving, but it only makes the pressure worseâand suddenly heâs knotting inside you with a choked groan.
âCan we do this again? And again? Andâfuck, Iâm not done.â
And he wasnât pulling out. Not until you whispered that he was yours. And not even then.
Mohawk Mark
You didnât move. He was already in your apartment when you walked inâstanding dead center in the living room, like he owned the place.
Shoulders squared, jaw tight, fists flexing at his sides like he was trying to decide if he wanted to grab something or break it in half. His nostrils flared as he exhaled slowly through his nose, teeth catching his bottom lip. Not angry. Not quite.
Something worse. Something hungry.
âFuck,â he muttered, running his tongue over his teeth like he could taste you in the air. âYou always leave the door unlocked like that? Or just for me?â He almost sounded flattered. You cocked a brow. âYou broke my window last time. I figured this was safer.â That almost made him grin. Almost.
Instead, he tilted his head and stared at you like he was trying to figure out how loud you'd scream if he pinned you to the wall right now. âYou smell that?â He muttered, eyes narrowing. âThatâs me. Going fucking crazy.â
âThis what you wanted?â he asked, voice low and sharp. âParading around like that, all soft and smug? You get off on teasing me while Iâm like this?â You glanced down at yourselfâshorts, tank top, nothing specialâbut his eyes were molten.
âAre you teased, Mark?â
He let out a soft, bitter laugh. âShit, youâreâmmâŚâ He grimaced to himself.
His hands twitched again, like he couldnât decide if he wanted to cross his arms or slam them on either side of your head. You stepped closer. He didnât flinchâjust watched, jaw ticking, eyes following your every move like a predator holding himself back by a thread.
âI expected more restraint,â you murmured. âDidnât think you'd lose control this fast.â Heâs mentioned these heats before, almost braggadocious in an excessive way. He was a sexual deviant, skilled within his own right, and you knew that very well⌠but you don't recall him seeming so⌠lewd during these ruts.
He scoffed. âRestraintâs for people who arenât boiling inside their own goddamn skin. You ever felt that? Like your bones are gonna split open if you donât fuck something?â You inhaled slowly, thighs clenching. âSounds intense.â
âIt is.â His eyes flicked to your mouth. âYou drive me fucking insane.â
âYou sure you donât like it?â
He finally movedâjust a step, but it was heavy, purposeful, his chest rising and falling like he was trying to hold back a war. His voice dropped into a growl. âI like watching you squirm when you pretend youâre not dying for it too.â You smirked. âIâm not pretending.â
His pupils blew, and he heaved as if sick. He took another step. âYou shouldâve stayed away tonight,â he said. âYou donât know what Iâll do to you if you let me.â You closed the space, lifting your chin. âThen show me.â The moment cracked like lightning.
He grabbed your waist hard enough to bruise, spinning you, pressing you against the nearest table with his hips grinding into yours. One hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head back, the other sliding under your shirt with zero patience. You gasped, nails digging into his arms. âIâll be gentle when you stop making it fun,â he hissed in your ear. âYou want it rough?â His eyes peered into yours with an intensity that made your heart thrum. He could hear it.
âGood,â he growled. âLet me ruin that attitude while you still remember your name.â
He doesnât ask for a kiss. He leans in like heâs about to win somethingâeyes sharp, mouth already curled in that half-smirk that makes you want to slap it off or bite it. Thereâs heat in his stare, but itâs not desperate. Itâs deliberate. Like heâs letting you know whatâs about to happen without saying a word. And when he finally does kiss you? Itâs firm, demanding, but not cruel. The kind of kiss that says, âI see you. I respect you. Now shut up and let me in.â
His handâs usually on your jaw, thumb under your chin, tilting your face just how he likes it. He likes a little resistanceâloves when you kiss back with a bite, when your teeth graze his lip just enough to make him growl. Your hands wrap around the width of his shoulders, feet shuffling beneath you as his teeth attack your lips. You're barely able to reciprocate the usual energy.
He laughs into your mouth. A low, cocky rumble, like heâs already planning his next move. He kisses like a dareâlike he wants to know how much you can take before you start pulling his hair and grinding back. But thereâs tenderness under the heat. A kind of quiet reverence in the way he pulls back just slightly to breathe against your lips before diving in again, slower this time, almost careful. Like he doesnât say the soft stuff out loudâbut he lets you taste it. Heâs panting, flushed, pupils blown wide. Smirking like he didnât just almost lose his mind. His tongue flicks over his lips, the cold metal ball of his piercing just teasing you of what could be.
His teeth now bite at your bra strap just enough to make it snap. Your pants come off mid-makeout, fingers fumbling until he just rips them at the seams. âOops,â he grins, not sorry at all. He doesnât slow down, his hands linger on your thighs, his mouth hot against your neck. âShit, you should see how wet you are for me. You feel that?â
He makes a mental note to âkidnap you.â It's about time you lived with him; having to travel so far ticks his gears. Youâd assimilate perfectly, having been adorned with a matching mohawk. His thoughts are interrupted the second your nails scratched up his chestâjust hard enough to leave a faint trail over the curve of his pecs. He stopped smiling. His jaw flexed. His hands slid down your waist. Then lower.
You hopped back onto the edge of the bed like youâd done it before and you had. With him. Because with Mark, it was always the same deal: you push, he pushes back harder. You spit fire; he kisses it into your throat.
Your legs were already bending when he grabbed them, hauling your thighs up until your ass slid into his lap and your weight tilted. You dropped forward to the floor, hands planting flat against it as your body stretched into that long, open line. It wasnât comfortable. It wasnât supposed to be. You didnât need to be told what he wanted. He didnât need to say it.
His cock slid against your assâthick, hot, already leakingâand your mouth curled into a smirk. You arched purposefully. A little taunt, a little âyou can take it, right?â attitude radiating off you, even as your thighs trembled from the stretch. He grunted, lips quirking in response. And then he pressed into the sweet nectar that dripped from your cunt. It was dizzying each time, but today especially. The sight of it alone causes him to pant. His scent is overwhelming. Makes the air taste heavy. It forces submission from the inside out as you feel your stomach twisting. The smell sticks to your sweat, resembling charred sugarcane and gasoline.
You felt the give, the pressure blooming in your gut as his cock breached you, thick and unforgiving. He guided your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft skin just above your knees, using your legs to tilt your body into the angle he liked bestâdeep. He didnât thrust. He carved. Mark gruntedâlow, restrained, shocked by how tight you were. You squeezed him hard, involuntarily, and he twitched so violently his hips nearly stuttered out of rhythm.
His hips pummeled forward, nearly knocking you off balance, your fingertips digging into wooden floors. The rocking presses him against every ridge inside of you. âFuck, youâre tighter than I thought⌠knew youâd be trouble.â He was thick, his cock pulsing with heat and slick from his own need, and the sensation of being filled that way had your vision going white around the edges. Every thrust after that was short, deep, grinding. You were being taken. And he was barely holding himself together at the seams.
Your pelvic muscles tightened every time he reared back, his fingers gripping you with such vigor that his hands went numb. His gaze purely focused on your ass, the sight alone nearly busting his balls as he gritted. Peering over your shoulder, you watch as he whispers to himselfâhand nudging himself deeper with every stroke. Planting your feet against the sheets, you began to bounce back against him; loud pops echo in the room in tandem with your moans.
âYouâre gonna ride me like Iâm nothing, huh? Fucking do it.â You almost make it look easy, his toes spreading from the pleasure, being your encouragement. âI'm gonna fill you til' it leaks out of your nose, babe. You ready for that kind of damage?â His hand against the small of your back, head lolling backwards as unfiltered groans left him. His voice cracking occasionally, fingers ripping at the sheets, the hairs of his mohawk becoming slick to his scalp.
One hand against his chest, the other gripping his jaw as his whole body convulsed under you, chest arching, hips jerking up in desperate, erratic thrusts even after he spilled inside you. And even when it was over, when heâd emptied himself with a full-body tremble and a cracked moan, he didnât stop moving.
His hands slid weakly down your back, nails dragging across sweat-slick skin like he didnât know how to stop touching. His breath came in short, broken gaspsâmouth open, throat dry, eyes glassy with disbelief. âStill hardâhow the fuck am I still hard?â His spine curved forward as he continued to bounce you against his cock, his jaw slack. âYou feel so good, Iâll die here, I donât care.â
His body twitched under yours, overwhelmed but addictedâhis cock still twitching inside you, trying to stay hard even as overstimulation set in. He whined when you clenched. Actually whined. His thighs trembled, head turned to the side, face flushed and lips parted in a half-smile, half-wrecked expression that made it impossible to take him seriouslyâexcept he was so serious.
He slipped out of your pussy with a wet, audible drag, the sudden emptiness making you gasp. He was breathing heavily, shakily, even as he pulled you up like you weighed nothing. His hands framed your thighs, one arm cradling your back as he stood with you wrapped around him.
Your cunt was already dripping from being stretchedâslick enough that when he used the arousal to lube your ass, it was an immediate, obscene slide. The angleâchest to chest, your back hitting the wallâmeant he could slam up into you, balls smacking your ass with every thrust. The shift from vaginal to anal only made it more intenseâyour walls fluttered around him from sheer overstimulation, gripping his cock like your body didnât want to let him go again.
It was instinct and control, primal and practiced, each movement slamming forward with just enough mercy to keep it beautiful. The sound of your skin meeting his hips echoed in the roomâwet, filthy, rhythmic.
He reached down and grabbed the back of your neck, not to choke, just to feel your pulse as you took it. You barely had time to turn before he lifted you. One arm behind your back, the other under your thigh. His mouth slammed into yours againâsloppy, hot, teeth and spit and praise held between clenched teeth. He licks into your mouth like heâs chasing somethingâdominance, control, maybe a bit of sanity he left behind two cities ago.
You clawed at his shoulders. Bit his bottom lip. His cock was slick, messy from the first round, pressing against your slick folds as he walked you toward the wall like a man on a mission.
You clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, and he fucked you standingâhard, deep, devastating. But still precise. Still so goddamn good it made your knees shake even while they were off the ground. He whispered something against your cheek, nothing coherent, just the sound of someone wrecked and reverent.
The stretch? Piercing and intense. His knot leaves you gasping, trying to squirm, but he holds you down, ramming his knot deeper with each thrust until it pops inside and locks you together. You can feel it throbbing, almost bruising, and he loves the way you twitch around him. He grinds through the swelling, making it worse for both of youâand better. âToo much? Thatâs the point.â Thereâs no warning. Just a cocky snarl, his hand locking in your hair and shoving your head to the side. âYou ready, sweetheart?â You donât get the chance to respondâhe sinks in hard. Deep enough to bruise. You scream, and he laughs, moaning into the skin. âGod, thatâs hot. Fuck, keep squirming.â
Annoyance floods your veins as you crane your neck. You sink your teeth into his collarbone, and he shouts, hips snapping. âFUCKâoh, thatâs what youâre on? You wanna bite now?â Heâs panting, pale, flushed, eyes wild. âBite harder. Câmon, make me bleed, I dare you.â
You clench around him, âYeah, make me your little toy. Iâm built for it.â
Lensless Invinicble
He hasnât said a word for over an hourâ which, for No Goggles Markâ is basically a war crime. Heâs sprawled out on the couch like heâs been shot, one arm flung over his face, the other dangerously close to palming himself through his sweats, and you know heâs doing it on purpose. That self-sabotaging little shit. Heâs so obviously in heat itâs comical. Sweat slicks his collarbone, his jaw is clenched tight, his shirt is lifted over his abs like a mating call, and a flush rises from his chest to the tips of his ears. And still, nothing, not a single word.
So you break first. âYou good?â
His fingers twitch. His mouth moves like he might respond. Then, silence again. Of course.
You walk over, stand above him, arms crossed. âMark.â
He groans, dragging his arm off his face to reveal bloodshot eyes and a crooked grin. âDude,â he breathes, voice hoarse. âI was wondering how long itâd take you to cave.â
âCave?â you echo, raising a brow.
He smirks, shifting slightly, letting his hips roll just enough for you to see the outline of him pressing hard against his pants. âYeah, cave. I mean, Iâve been lying here like a Victorian heroine in heat, and you didnât even check my temperature. Rude.â
âYouâre actually insane.â
âLittle bit,â he chirps, breath catching as his thighs tense. âDude, like, on a scale from 1 to melting down in your lap? Iâm somewhere around⌠please slap me, choke me, tell me to shut the fuck up, and Iâll still get hard.â
Your face twitches, and thatâs when he knows heâs got you.
âYou like this, huh?â He taunts, grinning through a low, shaky breath. âMe all pathetic and wrecked. Just lying here, trying so hard not to hump the fucking couch. You gonna be a hero and save me, or⌠just watch me lose my mind?â
You kneel beside him, now he twitches.
âGod, I love when you do that,â he mutters. âAll serious and controlled while Iâm three seconds away from grinding myself into a puddle.â You glance down at his flushed neck, already marked up from earlier in the week. Old hickeys, faint bruisesâlike trophies. Your trophies.
âYou are so lucky I have bad taste in men.â You sigh, feigning annoyance as you two share knowing glances. âIf I touch you, will you stop talking⌠or just moan louder?â
âOkay, rude again, but also⌠accurate. Now come here. Get on me,â he says, voice deepening on the last word. His breath hitches again, and for a moment, he shuddersâhands fisting in the cushion, thighs shaking.
You lean close, your lips brushing his ear. âYou couldâve said something.â
âNo fun in that,â he pants, finally reaching for you. âWanted to see how long I could suffer. I always ruin the fun too fast. Mark me. Scratch me. Iâll wear it like a fucking badge, babe.â
He rolls over, yanking you into his lap, lips ghosting along your jaw. âCâmon. Donât make me beg.â
âYou already are.â
ââŚShit. Thatâs hot.â
His heat ruins him. Heâs unhinged, usually pacing the walls of your shared home like a caged animal, trying not to wake you, but failing. His brain short-circuits with the memory of your mouth, your voice, and your bite. It's self-inflicted tortureâhe delays touching you just to feel the high of suffering. And when he finally breaks? Itâs like watching a dam explode. Youâre not just his girlâyouâre his goddess, his favorite kind of punishment. And this need? Itâs sacred, in the dirtiest way possible. For a loose cannon with unparalleled brutality, youâve got him on a leash.
His hands hovered at the hem of your shirt, fingers twitching like he was trying not to break apart mid-touch. âDude, I canâtâI needâfuck, just lemme, pleaseââ
You didnât even answer. Just raised your arms, and that was all it took. He yanked the shirt over your head, tearing it in the process, and shifted you beneath him with a groan, mouth already dragging over your stomach like he didnât know where to start. Your bra went nextâhalf-bitten, half-tornâand when your chest spilled free, he just stared. Wide-eyed. That smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, slow and sinful, but his eyes were already glassyâlike he was drunk off the tension and starving for your skin. It was a smile like he knew a secret and you were the punchline. All teeth and dark promise.
His tongue found your sternum, teeth grazing as he mouthed down one side, up the other, breath shaking against your skin. âIâm gonna say the worst shit if you let me keep going. Like, really bad. Iâm so fucking gone for you.â
Ten minutes passed, and he still hadnât made it past your ribsâjust kissing, licking, groaning, hands dragging up your thighs like a prayer with no end. You knew he was struggling, his sweat pebbling against your thighs. It was sudden, your fingers curling just below his jaw and yanking him upward. The sound he let out was between a groan and a chortle.
He looked at you like you were the final scene in a movie heâd watched a thousand timesâobsessed, twitchy, reverent⌠and just a little off. It was unhealthy. He was in love. His smile didnât match the heat in his eyes; it was crooked, teasing, like he was holding in something far worse than words. His fingers ghosted along your thigh, warm and slow, but there was nothing calm about the way they twitchedâlike he was barely holding back from sinking them in.
It was dangerous. Like if you stopped now, he wouldnât ask you to stay. Heâd make you. And still, you didnât move. You didnât flinch. You let him worship you like the pretty little problem you are.
And so, with shaking fingers, he shoved his slacks down like they offended him, groaning when his cock sprang freeâalready flushed, already wet at the tip. The air hit him, and he trembled, panting through his teeth as if just being exposed was enough to short-circuit his control.
Your hand snapped up to his throatâtight, deliberateâand the moan that tore from him was instant, filthy, a cracked whimper that vibrated against your palm. You pressed him back into the cushions, straddling him with one thigh slotted between his twitching legs. His hands found your hips, but they were too unsteady to hold you downâmore like he was asking permission with every touch.
You kissed him mid-moanâsloppy, messy, mouths colliding with teeth and spit and breath you didnât care to control. His lips chased yours like he needed them to stay grounded, like losing contact for even a second would break him. His tongue was desperate. Uncoordinated. He whimpered every time your hips rolled. You reached down between your bodies, guided him to your entrance, and sank down.
He groaned. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a pathetic little sound trapped in the back of his throat as your warmth surrounded himâtight, slick, all-consuming. His head hit the back of the couch, and his mouth hung open in disbelief, fingers digging into your thighs before thrusting upward. A thick, wet sound of arousal coated flesh echoed between walls, his lip caught between his teeth. As you set the pace, his hand clasped the width of your ass as he forced you to swallow him whole.
Thatâs all it took for your fingers to tremble, for your grasp to slip. âYou hear that? That slick sound when I push in? Thatâs what I do to you. Thatâs mine now. Say it.â Words refused to form, only a disgruntled sigh escaping in their place. âShaking already? Câmon, baby, you like when I talk like this. Look at youâgripping me like you want me meaner.â
Finally, your gaze shifted towards him as your hand cracked across his face once more. Your body leaned forward as you pressed weight against his windpipe. Head bowing to catch him off guard, biting his shoulder, the muscle jumping beneath your teeth, as a stinging pain filled his side. He stops moving, his breath catching. He gasped for air, rasping beneath your palm. âDude. Holy shitâokay, okay, that wasâfuck.â Heâs grinning like heâs about to explode. He was a whore. Your whore, and he loved every second of it.
Each roll of your hips dragged a strangled noise from his throat. His hands flew to your waist but didnât guideâjust held. Clung. Like you were the only thing tethering him to earth. His cock twitched inside you every time your walls clenched, and his abdomen jumped with every bounce of your hips. âOh my god, thatâs not fair. Thatâsâyouâre cheating; this isnât normal. No oneâs supposed to feel this good.â His toes curled into the couch foam, unable to tell if he was cumming or unprecedented amounts of precum were coating his cock.
You leaned down, lips ghosting his cheek, your chest brushing his as your breath fanned across his ear. And while staring him in the eyes, while he was mid-moan, you spit into his mouth before delivering a final slap.
And that was it. His grip faltered. His hips jerked. He started to moveâjust a littleâshallow, instinctive thrusts as he gasped beneath you. His eyes widened between delight and surprise. You could feel the sweat pooling at his lower back, the way his thighs flexed beneath you with every slow grind of your core against his pelvis.
Then you pulled offâjust to tease, but not before you were flipped around and impaled once more; your ass nuzzled against his pelvis.
He made a noise like heâd been stabbed, both hands flying to your hips as you sank back down onto him in reverse cowgirl. Shivers crawled down your skin as heat from an impending orgasm made your vision blotch. You took all of him at once, and his reaction was feral. His head rolled back, a curse strangled in his throat, and his legs shook like he was trying not to thrust up blindly.
Your ass smacked against his abdomen as you rode himâharder now, rougherâand you reached between his legs to cup his balls. They were already tight, already twitching, the heat and overstimulation building to an unbearable edge. You rolled them in your palm, gentle but precise, and he nearly screamed through his teeth, hips jerking up so hard it lifted you both. His hips unrelenting as he fucked up into you. âYou ride me like that again and Iâm gonna black out. Iâm gonna fucking die. Keep going.â
âShut the fuck up, Mark. Just take it. I donât want soft.â And with that he just lunges, no warning, no restraint, sinking his teeth into the nape of your neck like itâs all thatâs keeping him tethered to reality. He moans like biting you is better than cumming. He didnât speak for a brief pause, and that's when it became sickly.
His scent is of bruised plum and metal. It's strongest when heâs holding it inâwhen he wonât speak, wonât beg, wonât stop. When his heartbeats migrated to his dick. Then he keeps biting. Little ones. Bruising ones. Like heâs chasing the high of your yelps. âDude, it hurts so good. I donât even know if Iâm still hard or if Iâm just that fucked up. Keep going. Keep going.â Your fingertips curl into his calf muscle.
His entire body convulsed beneath you. One hand fisted in the couch cushion. The other grabbed your ass like he was trying to ground himselfâbut failed. You felt his cock pulse inside you, hot and overwhelming, as he came hard, breath leaving him in broken, unbelieving bursts. He twitched beneath you, thighs quivering uncontrollably, soft curses tumbling between panting moans. Heâs rutting even though he knows it makes it worse. Heâs overstimulated and absolutely getting off on it. You reach back to touch him, and he moans, full-body shaking, begging you to keep going until he breaks again.
So, you donât stop. Neither does he, because heâs having too much fun. âCâmon let's go again. Donât start whining nowâyouâre the one who started this.â
His knot swells too fast, too hard, and heâs already trembling before it locks in. Hips stuttering as he tries to pull out and realizesâhe canât. And the look on his face? âOh my godâdudeâIâm stuck. Iâm literally stuck in you. This isâholy shitâthis is the best day of my life.â
Shiesty/Hooded Mark
You found him leaning against the counter in the kitchenâ acting as if nothing was wrong, like he wasnât in the middle of a full-blown heat spiral. He was shirtless, his hair matted with blood, and a bandage hung off one shoulder as if he had forgotten it existed. His hair was pushed back, and his veil hung low around his neck, revealing a face that was too calm for someone whose chest was visibly heaving.
âStop staring,â he muttered without looking up, a crooked smirk playing at his lips. âUnless youâre planning to help.â
âYou look like shit,â you deadpanned. He rolled his neck slowly, his eyes finally meeting yours. They glowed with that sick, golden hue, and he was sweaty and raw. âI look like someone who just took down three versions of himself and came home hard as fuck. Same thing.â
You squinted. âYouâre such an asshole.â
âAnd you love that about me,â he replied, pushing off the counter and stalking toward you. His hands flexed at his sides as if he wasnât sure if he wanted to pin you or put them through a wall. âYou know what this is, donât you? I can smell your damn skin, and itâs driving me crazy.â
You crossed your arms. âSo suffer.â
âOh, I am,â he breathed. âBut not for long.â
He backed you against the fridge, slow and heavy, his heat radiating off him like a furnace. His mouth hovered at your neck, not kissing, just breathing in deeply as if he could swallow you through scent alone.
You shoved him, but it was pointless, really, more instinctual than anything else.
He grinned. âStill so fucking defiant,â he muttered, grabbing your wrists and slamming them up against the cold metal behind you. âGod, I missed this mouth. Say something cruel.â
You stared him down. âYou whine more than a virgin.â
âFuck yes,â he groaned, his eyes fluttering as if youâd praised him. âDo that again. Be mean to me.â
âYouâre a freak,â you said flatly.
âAnd yet youâre the one whoâs been riding me for months,â he replied through a tight grin. âGuess that makes you my freak.â His voice came out in a rasp. He loved how cold you could be; it made it all the more fun to ruin you, to watch you fuck yourself on his cock until you went limp. Usually by now youâd be bent over before finishing your sentenceâyet he couldn't bear to. Not with his body practically vibrating, completely feral for you.
You gritted your teeth. âYouâre bleeding on me.â
âGuess you shouldnât have waited so long to come home,â he said, burying his nose against your pulse. âDidnât wanna admit I was in heat. Youâd gloat.â
âAm gloating,â you replied with a smirk.
He growled low in his throat, his hips rutting into yours with zero finesse. âYeah? Letâs see how smug you are when Iâve got you shaking.â You narrowed your eyes. âIs that a promise or another Mark-level bluff?â
He licked the corner of your jawâslow and deliberate. âIâm starving and youâre wet. Bite me, babe.â
So you did. Your teeth sank into his throat, and he groaned, his head tipping back. âOh, fuck yes, thereâs my girl.â He was panting now, grinning. âShit. You like hurting me, donât you?â He grabbed your hips hard, pulling you closer. âDo it again. I want bruises.â
His adamâs apple bobbed. Usually, he wasnât a masochist; if anything, he was overly dominant in bed, but his inhibitions were loosened. Breaking even, as his eyes held a different reality than his words. It was only to taunt, as when your tongue flicked over your lips, preparing for another taste.
His lips crashed into yours as if he had just lost a fight and this was his prize. His mouth dragged against yours with a growl in his chestâblood still on his tongue, and the weight of battle clinging to his skin. He was cocky even hereâbiting at your lips between each kiss as if testing how far he could push before you snapped. When your nails dug into his bicepsâhe laughed against your mouth.
You rolled your eyes as he smirked against your lips, already dragging his teeth across your bottom one just to be annoying. âCareful,â you murmured, gripping the front of his suit. âDo it,â he muttered, his voice low and gleeful. Oh, how he loved when you pretended to be in control.
His hand grabbed your thigh, lifting and pinning you to the wall without warningâyour lips barely parted before he was back on you, kissing you like he had something to prove. You broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, panting against his mouth. âYou really think this is working?â
âOh, itâs working. Youâre already grinding on my thigh,â he replied, his voice thick with desire.
âBecause you put me there,â you shot back.
He kissed you again, deeper this time, slower, as if he wanted to make you forget what you were about to say. His tongue flicked against yours in a rhythm that was just a little too practiced. You pulled back, your eyes narrowed.
âYou kiss all your enemies like this?â you asked.
âOnly the hot ones,â he responded with a smirk.
He did it mid-banter, almost annoyed by your clothes. One second you were snarking back, the nextârip. The seam of your shirt tore in his hands. He chuckled when you glared at him, his lips grazing your ear. âBuy you another one,â he breathed before kissing down your spine. Pants? Gone in a blur. Underwear? Teased off with one finger and a smirk. âYou always taste better when youâre pissed at me.â
He sat back on the bed with that infuriating grin still tugging at his lips, watching you crawl toward him with that glint in your eyeâthe one that said you were going to cause problems on purpose.
You slid to his right instead, your shoulder brushing his thigh, your eyes locked on his cock as it twitched between his legs. You placed one hand on his knee, your lips parted, and then slowly bent forward until your head rested just above his lap. His breath hitched.
And then your mouth wrapped around him.
He groaned, his head tipping back, but he didnât get to stay passive for long. You shifted slightly, lifting your hipsâgiving him just enough of a view to see how wet you already were. Your legs bent at the knee as your back arched, your ass high and ready to be touchedâand he got the message.
His hand slid down the curve of your spine, lingering just above your ass like a threat, before diving between your thighs. His fingers met slick heat, and his cock twitched inside your mouth.
Two fingers pushed in slowlyâtestingâbefore curling as if he already knew exactly what spot made you twitch. You gasped around him, and he moaned in reply, his free hand tangling in your hair as your hips rocked into his touch.
Every time he thrust his fingers deeper, you sucked harder, like a trade-off. Every time you moaned, he pressed deeper into you, his fingers soaked, knuckles dripping as your body clenched around him like it was begging.
Your thighs quivered against his ribs. Your spit dripped onto his lap. His abs tensed every time you swallowed. You were both losing it. His fingers caressed every ridgeâpads searching for that gummy spot that made you keen. The strokes were long, ending at the tip of his fingers before plunging in once moreâyour own arousal coating your insides as it glued his fingers together. It took everything in him to not bring his digits to his tongue and swirl your arousal across it. His taste buds ached as his mouth swelled with saliva. He could imagine it nowâthe faint tang of sweat, sweet like molasses and burnt herbal.
Your mouth worked over him like you were daring him to come too fastâyour lips swollen, your throat taking him deeper each time you sank down, your tongue dragging slow and purposeful. His cock twitched between your lips, and you felt itâevery pulse, every subtle tremble of restraint breaking. âFuck⌠thatâs it,â he whispered, his head spinning.
And he felt you, too. The way your body clenched around his fingers, soaked and twitching as his hand pumped between your thighs with growing intensity. Your hips rocked against his wrist, your heels kicking air each time his fingertips curled just right.
You choked just slightly, his cock hitting the back of your throat as your body jerkedâbut he didnât stop. His palm slapped wetly against your ass, the obscene sound of his fingers fucking into you barely audible over the slurp of your mouth and the low, guttural whimpers pouring from his chest.
His voice was tight, right on the edge. But your pussy was shaking, your thighs trying to close, your back arching in that telltale wayâand he felt it coming. You moaned around his cock, a deep, muffled sound vibrating against his length, his legs jerking in response.
His fingers slammed deep, curling sharp. You gasped, mouth full, throat convulsing, and then everything snapped. You squirted all over his hand with a cry you couldnât hold back, your legs shaking, your ass twitching in the air. Your arousal spilled down his fingers, soaked his wrist, dripped onto the sheets.
And the second you spasmed like that around him, his hips stuttered, his breath hitched, and a low, fucked-out growl rumbled in his chest as his cock throbbed inside your mouth. You felt the first warm spurt hit the back of your throat, followed by anotherâand anotherâas he came hard, one hand yanking your head down to bury himself deep, the other still stuffed inside you, his fingers riding out the pulses of your orgasm.
His thighs flexed. His stomach clenched. His voice cracked with a half-moan, half-laugh that sounded just a little too close to worship. You swallowed it all, deliberately.
Then let him slip from your lips with a slick pop, your breath ragged, sweat cooling on your back as his hand finally slid from between your thighs, his fingers shiny and trembling. He looked down at you like you were divine punishment, still twitching from overstimulation, breathing like heâd fought a warâbut grinning like heâd die to do it again.
His chest heaved like he couldnât get enough air, his jaw slack, lips parted around a breathless whine. You could still see the way his muscles jumpedâlittle tremors of pleasure his brain had no control over.
Temptation overtook him as his hand shot upâtwitchy and instinctual. He couldnât speak. He just leaned forward, his lips brushing your fingertips, and licked your arousal clean. Each drag was shaky, his mouth hot and eager, licking the mess he'd made like it was sacred. His lashes fluttered as his tongue circled your knuckle, the sound of his breath catching every time your taste hit his tongue. He whimperedâsoft, brokenâlike it hurt to keep going, but he couldn't stop.
Every noise he made was involuntary. Every twitch in his hips, every stutter in his breath, every faint jerk of his cock against his thighâit was pure overstimulation. His body was wrung out, undone, and still begging. And when he pulled your fingers from his mouth, licking the corners of his lips like a man starved, you knew he wasnât done.
To him, heat felt like madness dressed in power. Everything was louderâyour heartbeat, your scent, the memory of your lips. He was a god in a cage, and you were the only key. You were the one thing he didnât need to conquerâhe wanted you willingly, but if you fought, he ached harder. Every roll of your hips, every defiant glare, only sharpened his focus. He would fuck you like he was trying to outrun the heat clawing at his brainâbut the truth? He didn't want it to end. Mating with you wasnât about reproduction. It was absolution.
âItâs consuming me,â he spit out, breathless. âI can feel it in every goddamn nerve.â You touched his shoulder. He grabbed your wrist instead, shoving it to his chest. It hit like tension in a dim roomâquiet, deliberate, intoxicating. The kind of scent that makes your breath catch before your thoughts do. Thereâs intimacy in it. One that thickens as your taste is savored on his tongue. The smell was of black tea and a faint rosewood, perhaps ink-stained leather. He grabbed your chinâdragged his tongue along your neck, then bit down slowly. It was deep, controlled, like he was branding you. His chest rumbled, almost pridefully.
He didnât need to speakâyou felt it in the way his hands gripped your hips, steady and possessive. You pushed up onto your hands, your spine arched, your thighs trembling as your knees left the bed. The tension in your core burned as he slid his hands beneath your pelvis and lifted. Your body tipped forward, your thighs locking tight around his waist, your ankles crossed at his back as his cock pressed flush against your slick foldsâheavy, aching, ready.
He adjusted his grip, one hand under each thigh, supporting the weight of your lower half as your toes dangled uselessly in the air, your legs trembling from the position. The angle was unnaturalâperfectâyour arms still grounded you, your pussy tilted toward him like an open mouth begging to be filled. Your thighs tightened with every breath he took, every twitch of his cock as he positioned himself. And he pushed in all at once. âI can feel your heartbeat around my cock,â he said, his voice a gritted rasp.
Your mouth dropped open in a soundless gasp, your head tilting back, your arms shaking beneath you as your cunt clenched around him from the sudden fullness. You could feel every inch of himâevery throb, every twitchâso deep it felt like heâd never leave your body again.
Your legs locked tighter. Your arms strained to keep balance while your body pulsed around him, helpless to anything but the slow, punishing drag of his hips. And he moved. Just a steady, ruthless rhythm, rocking you forward with every thrustâforcing your body to take him in angles that made your stomach tremble. âDonât pass out yetâIâm not done proving Iâm stronger than you.â
âOh, fuck off. Youâre disgusting,â you replied, your voice laced with sarcasm.
His heart nearly swelled. Fuck off? Heâs influenced you. âCall me disgusting again. Go on. Iâll moan your name while I keep ruining you,â he said, his voice thick with desire. It was sudden; the knot started swelling so fast it pulled a ragged sound out of himâa half-moan, half-growl, his teeth clenched like it hurt to feel this good. He was tremblingâaddictedâ and pulsing around the knot that wouldn't let go. He was fighting for his life. You clenched down at his words, your heels nudging him deeper as his knee nearly buckled.
âYouâre mine, mouth and all. So shut the fuck up, or Iâll make it worse. Just tell me Iâm your bitch. Iâll wear it like a crown. I can take more. Sit on my face again, like last timeâIâll breathe later. Tie me down and fuck me dumb; make me useless. Thatâs what you want, right?â It all spilled out in broken fragments like a truth serum.
âWeâll see,â you responded.
Variant #17 (I wouldn't even keep you as a slave in my Empire!)
You come home to silence, which is odd. Because Variant 17 is never quiet. He likes to remind you heâs thereâpacing, hovering, teasing, demanding attention even when he doesnât need it, especially when he doesnât need it. The apartment looks fine. There are no signs of a fight. But something buzzes under your skin the second you shut the door behind you. That strange, oppressive heat in the air⌠You round the corner to the bedroom and stop short.
Heâs already there, sitting on the edge of the bed in just his boxers, elbows on his kneesâbreathing like he just ran a marathon. His skin is flushed, and his pupils are blown. The second he sees you, he grins.
âFinally,â he says, his voice low and gravelly with strain. âI was wondering how long youâd make me wait.â Your eyes flick to his throat, bitten and bruised from the last time he threw you against the wall. The marks still havenât faded, just like yours. âOh no,â you mutter. âAgain?â
His smile sharpens. âYou say that like I planned this.â
He stands slowly, almost lazily, despite the twitch in his jaw, and stalks toward you. His suit is on the floor, and his knuckles are bruised. He smells like sweat, ozone, and you. You backpedal, but he doesnât chase. He just says, âYouâve been avoiding me.â
You scoff. âBecause youâve been humping the couch like a damn dog in heatââ
âBecause I am,â he snaps. âAnd you left me here suffering.â
You try to shove him, but he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. âStill so stubborn,â he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. âFine. Iâll fuck the resistance out of you.â
He doesnât kiss your mouthânot yet. Just watches you. That cool, calculated expression is gone now, burned out by the haze of his heat. Heâs not just attempting to be dominantâheâs deranged with it, shaking slightly as he presses himself harder into you.
âYouâre lucky,â he mutters, his voice strained. âBefore you, I had an ex that resisted too. You know what I did?â His eyes narrow. âI fucked her until she cried and then begged me to make her a queen.â
âYouâre disgusting,â you say flatly.
He just smirks. âYou say that now.â
He knows you donât mean it, and if you did, you're now stained by his very presence, defiled by his wants. The desperation takes over. His hips rut against yours shamelesslyâhis teeth dragging across your jawâfingers digging into your thighs as he hoists you higher. You gasp, grabbing his shoulders for balance, but it only makes him hungrier.
âI was gonna be patient. I was gonna convince you,â he growls. âBut thisâthis is your fault. You made me wait. You let me suffer. And now you think Iâm gonna stop before youâre begging me to stay?â
The slick from his precum smears against your bottoms. He is feral, utterly consumed by his desires. He doesnât give you the opportunity to chide him. âHow many orgasms does it take to turn a little rebel into a queen?â His authority is being questioned with every action. He walks like he owns you, talks like heâs already won. His words are sharp, cocky, laced with superiority and amusement, like heâs just entertaining you until you break. But his body tells the truth.
He kisses you like every second your lips aren't on his is a personal insult. The moment your mouths meet âhis hands slide into your hair, tilting your head back with a quiet, commanding drawl. It's slow at first, but controlling. But when your hands fist in his shirtâtuggingâhe loses it. He bites your lip and moans into the kiss. His hips rock into you, and he groans like he hates how good you feel. He pants, licking into your mouth again like he's ready to devour the last of your resistance.
His fingers twitch at his sides when you donât move fast enough toward the bed. The way he breathes through his nose to keep it evenâcalm, coldâwhile his pupils are already blown wide from scenting your skin. The clench in his jaw when you lean in close, and he doesnât flinch, but he stops blinking. He says heâs in control. He says heâs patient. But his hands shake when they finally touch you.
Every article of clothing is gone. Thereâs no grace anymore, just hunger. He strips you like youâre the only cure, moaning when your thighs press together. Youâre left as his equal, in lust and in the nude, as his damp cock presses against you within the confines of his boxers.
The second the fabric left your skin, he changed. What started as cocky hands pulling your underwear asideâslow, smug, practicedânow turned frantic. The moment your bodies were bare, he hesitated, just for a second. Like the sight of you finally being exposed knocked the breath clean out of his chest.
His cock twitched, and his jaw clenched. He groanedâlow, guttural, like his body betrayed him by reacting before he had the chance to mock you for it. He didn't speak. Otherwise, the words would've come out shaken, and his pride couldnât handle that.
Instead, he flipped you onto your back, hooked his arms under your knees, and folded you in halfâknees tucked high to your chest, back arched off the mattress. Your hands instinctively gripped behind your thighs, holding them there, perfectly presented.
Then he moved over you. His toes dug into the sheets, his body hovering just enough to control the angleâforty degrees of domination, cock aligned with brutal precision as he pressed forward with an unsteady breath. The slide-in was deep. His composure crumbled almost immediately as he realized you held the very power he attempted to steal. Completely open and vulnerable to him, and yet his nerves felt alight.
You watched his expression twist, his eyebrows pinched, mouth parted, pupils dilatedâas the sensation rocked through him. He moved hard from the first thrust, his hips slamming into yours with rhythmic force, his abs tightening with every movement. But for all his aggression, it wasnât angerâit was panic masquerading as power. He was unraveling too fast. Your walls fluttered around him, and he twitched, his thrusts faltering.
He tried to hold it together. Tried to go faster, deeper, rougherâtried to dominate. But his face gave him away. âYouâre not as untouchable as you pretend to be, Mark,â you mused, although through choked sobs. The air leaving your lungs came in short bursts, unable to breathe as he pummeled into you, your body curling into itself. You open your mouth to taunt, only for his face to close in, his breath fanning your face. âSay it. Say youâre not mine. I dare you.â
His brows knitted tighter. His mouth hung open. A trembling gasp escaped when your body clenched just right. His hands, once firm on your thighs, now gripped like he was afraid of being pushed out. And when your legs shook in his hands, when your slick dripped down to his balls with every brutal thrust? He lost it. âIâm supposed to be building an empire, and instead Iâm hereâdrenched in you, shaking, because my body thinks Iâll die if I donât fuck you.â
You felt him stutterâhis hips stalling, jaw slack, and his body shaking from the effort to keep control. His cock throbbed deep inside you, his breath turned ragged, and still, he fucked into you like you were the only anchor he had left. Then suddenly⌠he remembered who the fuck he was. Sure, he could be a brat, even doing this for the sake of vengeance. He persevered regardless.
He pulled out in one slow, wet slide, watching the way your body clenched and twitched at the loss. His back arched inwards, and he looked down at youâruined, smug, triumphantâand for a moment? He just stared. His hands were everywhere nowâpushing your legs apart wider, guiding your hips into the perfect angle, dragging your ass back into place. You tried to shift. He didnât let you. His grip was unyielding, fingers sinking into your flesh with possessive finality.
It was different, one fluid jerk. Buried to the hilt, grinding slowly, deliberatelyâjust to feel your walls flutter. His body rolled against yours like a machine built for precision destruction. Each thrust carried weight and rhythm like a punishment laced with adoration. He felt it. Felt your legs twitch, your walls tighten, and your breath catch. Instead of slowing, he pistoned forward, chasing your peak like it was his right to feel you come around him again and again, until your moans weren't pretty anymore.
âYou live with me. You sleep in my bed. And you still act like youâre not mine?â He was falling apart. And you never said a word. He could throw a fit if he wanted to, but your defiance is what drove him mad. Because this was his undoingânot the position, not the pleasure, but you. The way you let him think he was in charge⌠until he wasn't. And when your body clenched around him, slow and deliberate? He moaned, not cocky, not cruel, just ruined. His knee momentarily bent into the plush mattress as his thighs shook. It was like youâd stolen something from him. And he was grateful.
His hips continued to piston as if to punish you. But every word was backed by panic. Just this involuntary drive to make you stay, to make you need him back. Because underneath all that power, he was terrified that if he lets upâjust onceâyouâll walk away. And that thought derails him. So he fucks you like heâs proving something. And every time you moan his name, every time you whimper, or beg, or tease him? His heart races. Heâs more addicted to you than heâll ever admit. And thatâs why he dominates. Because if he doesnât stay on top, heâll fall apart.
âYouâre lucky I even let you touch me like this. Youâd be a wreck if I left right now,â you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Your cunt squeezes, causing him to slam deeper, earning a yelp to crawl from your throat. His ego and god complex nearly shattered upon hearing it. His dick was twitching, muscles jumping beneath his skin as he grimaced in pleasure.
Burned sugar, sandalwood, scorched velvet, and ash. Thatâs his scent. Itâs infuriatingly addictive. Sweet in a toxic way, like cotton candy laced with smoke. It doesnât feel like comfortâit feels like compulsion. You hate how much you like it. It clings to the back of your tongue, gets stuck in your hair, and when heâs inside you? Itâs everywhere. He leans down, nose nuzzling into your scalp as he inhales it like a drug fix. He reeks of dominance slipping into madness.
Dipping his head slightly, he bites into your clavicle with no mercy. A sound between a snarl and a moan leaps from his throat. The unrelenting pounding of his hips caused his teeth to grind slightly. If he doesn't claim you now, heâd lose himself. Not like you two had a choice, as he came without warningâa strangled groan being the only indication as your insides spasmed around him. He murmured into your collarbone, âTell me Iâm yours. Say it. Even if you donât mean it, lie to me.â You obliged, the words barely coherent but enough to make his ears ring. A pained and pleasured whine left you; no amount of tensing his abdomen withheld the flood he released, his dick bulging inside you as the knot formed. Your insides practically latched onto him.
With bated breath, he leaned back, staring proudly at his work before he sighed, frustrated. âI was winning, and then you made that noiseâfuck.â A quiet whine echoed in his voice. âAll that attitude and you still came first. Typical.â Your eyes finally focused, narrowing on his gaze.
âDonât⌠donât fucking look at me like that. I meant to last longer,â he says, his voice ragged. âI was supposed to be building an empire, and instead Iâm hereâdrenched in you, shaking, because my body thinks Iâll die if I donât fuck you.â His eyes scanned over the marking, almost like his name was carved into it. Suddenly leaning up, you clamp down on his chest with your teeth, and he freezes mid-thrust, then growls. âOhhh, so thatâs how you want it?â His breath is ragged now. âYou little fucking traitor. You think biting meâs gonna save you?â But his hips rut harder. âDo it again. Prove youâre mine too. Youâre coming into my empire anyway.â Truthfully, you didnât mind. But he had finally earned you. TEASERSSSS (Part 3, if requested. Congratulations, reader!!)
@ploiigee
(Photo stitching made by me!)
#fanfic#invincible#x reader#fem reader#invincible comic#invincible show#mark grayson#mark grayson x reader#dom/sub#evil invincible#invincible spoilers#invincible war#mohawk invincible#mark grayson invincible#omni mark#mohawk mark#no goggles invincible#no goggles mark x reader#smut#invincible season 3#mark grayson smut#invincible smut#mark grayson x you#mark grayson x y/n#invincible x reader#sinister mark#mark graryson fanfic#viltrum mark#markus sebastian grayson
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maneater!yn getting into an argument w one of the drivers after the race and it going viral?
SELF MADE, ASEXUAL!
summary: as one of the very few female drivers in f1, youâre expected to be very careful. however, when a explosive video hits the internet, you have to navigate the fallout.
linked to my maneater series!
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liked by nosybitch1, youthereader and 5,109,928 others.
tmzsports: MCLAREN, MEET MANEATER!: LANDO GETS EATEN ALIVE BY ANGRY YN!
for the full video, check the link đ in our bio.
view all comments.
đ pinned comment
tmzsports: thoughts? did yn take it too far, or was lando asking for it? đ let us know below!
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user1: the way yâall are acting like lando wasnât yelling back is CRAZY!!!
user2: maneater strikes again đ no man is safe
user3: sheâs so aggressive itâs actually embarrassing to watch. no wonder no one takes her seriously in f1
user4: yâall hate yn for breathing at this point lmao
user5: bro if a male driver did this no one would care, but bc itâs yn suddenly sheâs the devil đ
user6: lando looking like he was about to cry and she DID NOT CARE LMFAOO
user7: sheâs the problem. sheâs always the problem.
user8: he mustâve really pissed her off bc she usually just laughs in menâs faces when they try to argue with her
user9: people calling her toxic when literally every guy on the grid has had a public meltdown at some point đ itâs a high level sport!!! everyoneâs emotions are high. why criticise her for something you would applaud men for?
user10: âlando gets eaten aliveâ stopppp the internet is undefeated đđ
user11: yn needs to get her emotions in check. sheâs in a male-dominated sport. she should know better.
â user12: sheâs literally been in f1 for years. she clearly does know better if sheâs still here, stay mad lol
user13: nah the real tea is what did lando say to set her off bc she was FUMING
user14: these comments are straight up misogynistic. like be real, if it was max, george, or even charles, yâall wouldnât care
user15: yâall call her a maneater but from what i see she only âeatsâ men when they DESERVE it đ
user16: âshe should know better bc sheâs in a male-dominated sportâ actually no the MEN should know better and stop being fragile
user17: can we talk about how she was fully ready to swing on him but oscar had to step in đ
user18: every time she blinks yâall call her a villain i canât
â user16: like ppl r saying she should be kicked out like wtf. she should have swung on him idc
user19: yn too chopped to be acting like this LOL
â user5: imma chop your DICK off!!!
user20: if she was a man yâall would be calling her âa fighterâ and âa true competitorâ but bc sheâs a woman sheâs suddenly a problem
user21: lando def thought he was gonna win that argument and yn chewed him UP
user22: the grid walking on eggshells next race bc yn is officially in her villain era lmaoooo. canât wait for her next trophy!!!!
user23: she told lando âmaybe if you spent less time whining and more time racing you wouldnât have dnfedâ I ALMOST FELL OUT MY CHAIR đđđ
user24: funny how every guy she argues with suddenly becomes a victim in the eyes of the media⌠wonder why that is đ¤
â user25: starts with m, ends with isogyny.
â user24: funny how lando was yelling too but only yn is getting called aggressive?? misogyny is so boring at this point
user26: yn could literally say âgood morningâ and half of yâall would start foaming at the mouth
user27: âmclaren, meet maneaterâ is sending meeee đđđ
user28: praying for ynâs pr team rn
maneater: nah cause yâall stay tryna make me look crazy. âgets eaten aliveâ?? be fucking for real, he started yelling at ME first. maybe next time try reporting what actually happened instead of whatever dramatic fanfiction yâall cooked up for clicks. clowns. đ¤Ą
â user1: ignore them queen!!! the ynnies in the trenches for you rn <3
â user29: maneater supremacy. keep making men cry queen đ
â user30: the tears of your misogynistic male haters keep my skin looking youthful. <3
ââââââ ââ
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#maneater ę¤#mini smaus <3#aus#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1 x y/n#lando norris x reader
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White Horse - Chapter 6: August 2023
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)
Summary:
Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.
She watched her family give up everything for Charlesâ careerâArthurâs karting, their fatherâs savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.
But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isnât an afterthoughtâsheâs a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesnât have to be invisible.
Warnings and Notes:Â
we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families...I think that's it?
As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Meanwhile on Twitter:Â
@/F1TeaSpiller: Uhhh⌠when did Victoria Verstappen and Isabelle Leclerc start following each other on Instagram??
âł@/F1Fanatic44:Â Wait what??? Since when do they even know each other??
âł@/GridGossip:Â Thatâs actually wild because I donât remember them ever interacting before???
âł@/PitLanePrincess:Â Victoria always comments on her posts too?? Like hype girl mode. Like full-on âomg stunning!!â type comments.
âł@/PaddockSpy:Â And Isabelle replies!! She called Victoriaâs baby âthe cutest little thing.â
âł@/TifosiTears:Â The Leclerc brothers donât even do that lmao
âł@/PaddockWhispers:Â How did we miss this??
@/F1TeaSpiller:Â No because I went deep and Victoria and Isabelle have been commenting on each otherâs posts for MONTHS.
âł@/DR3Simp: So either theyâve been secret besties this whole time⌠or something else is going on.
âł@/LandoLover4:Â Define âsomething else.â
âł@/F1Conspiracies:Â Yâall. YâALL.
âł@/F1Conspiracies:Â What if sheâs dating Max.
âł@/RedFlagF1:Â BE SERIOUS.
âł@/F1Conspiracies: THINK ABOUT IT.
âł@/F1Conspiracies: 1. Isabelle keeps her private life locked down.2. She suddenly has a very close relationship with Victoria Verstappen. 3. MAX ALSO KEEPS HIS PRIVATE LIFE LOCKED DOWN. 4. HES LEARNING TO RIDE FOR HIS GIRLFRIEND AND THE LECLERCâS SOLD ISABELLEâS CHILDHOOD HORSE TO PAY FOR CHARLESâ KARTING.Â
âł@/TifosiTears: No. No way.
âł@/GridGossip: ⌠But imagine if itâs true. SHE DESIGNED HIS APARTMENT AFTER ALL.
âł@/PitLanePrincess: How do you get from âMaxâs girlfriend likes horses and so does Isabelle Leclercâ and Victoria Verstappen following Isabelle Leclerc on Instagram to: âMax and Isabelle will raise the next racing dynasty?!â
@/PaddockWhispers: When did they even meet?? Isabelle isnât really in the paddock scene like that.
âł@/F1Conspiracies: SHE DESIGNED HIS SIM ROOM. THEY MUST HAVE MET THROUGH THAT.Â
âł@/LandoFangirl: Be so serious right now.
@/F1TeaSpiller: Okay, Iâm officially obsessed with this mystery. Isabelle and Victoria are way too friendly for two people who have zero public connection. Something is UP.
âł@/TifosiFan44: What if they just vibe?? Not everything has to be a conspiracy.
âł@/F1Detective: Okay, letâs be logical for a second. Isabelle and Victoria both grew up around karting. Their families mustâve crossed paths back in the day. Maybe theyâve always known each other and just reconnected??
âł@/TifosiFan44: Yeah, but why reconnect now? Why not years ago?
âł@/PaddockSpy: Maybe they ran into each other recently? Like, at a race or something?
âł@/GridGossip: Or maybe⌠through someone else. đ
âł@/F1Conspiracies: SAY HIS NAME.
âł@/RedBullUpdates: DUH DUH DUH MAX VERSTAPPEN
âł@/PaddockWhispers: This is getting out of hand.
âł@/F1Conspiracies: Is it? OR AM I ONTO SOMETHING???
@/F1Conspiracies: If youâre telling me Isabelle and Victoria were secretly friends this whole time, Iâm gonna need proof because this is a new development.
âł@/PitLanePrincess: Nah, I just scrolled through their follows. Victoria followed Isabelle first and Isabelle followed back. It happened within the last few months.
âł@/PaddockWhispers: And suddenly, Victoria is in Isabelleâs comments like theyâre besties??
@/TifosiFan99: Do you guys think Charles knows his little sister and Victoria are suddenly besties???
âł@/F1Detective: Absolutely not.
âł@/GridGossip: Heâs about to find out through Twitter like the rest of us.
âł@/RedBullInsider: Imagine Charles scrolling IG and seeing Victoria hyping up his sister like âThatâs my girl! đĽ°â and heâs just sitting there like ???
âł@/PaddockSpy: Someone check on Arthur too, because heâs definitely confused.
@/F1Chaos: Isabelle Leclerc and Victoria Verstappen being all over each otherâs Instagram is the funniest plot twist of the season. âł@/PaddockWhispers: If it turns out that Max and Isabelle have been secretly dating and Victoria knew before Charles, I will actually SCREAM.
***
Leclerc Sibling Group ChatÂ
(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, and Lorenzo)
Lorenzo: Are we going on a family trip this summer?
Charles: Yeah, Maman was saying she wants to go somewhere all together.
Arthur: Cool. Whoâs planning it?
Lorenzo: Isabelle?
Isabelle: âŚPlanning what?
Arthur: The holiday. You know, flights, hotels, stuff to do.
Charles: Yeah, youâre good at that.
Lorenzo: You always find the best places.
Isabelle: Where do we even want to go?
Charles: Somewhere sunny.
Arthur: Beach?
Lorenzo: Good food.
Charles: Okay, Isabelle will sort it.
Isabelle: Right. Sure.
***
Max walked into the living room to find Isabelle surrounded.
Not by clutterâbecause she didnât do clutterâbut by controlled chaos: her iPad, her laptop, a notebook with neat handwriting, three different browser tabs open on the TV via screen mirroring, and a Google Doc titled Leclerc Family Vacation 2023 (Please Read This One, Arthur).
She didnât even look up when he walked in. Just tapped something into a spreadsheet with the quiet precision of someone five minutes away from snapping.
âLet me guess,â Max said, dropping onto the couch beside her. âCharles still hasnât confirmed the villa dates?â
âNo,â Isabelle said calmly, âbut he did text me a TikTok of a guy falling off a paddleboard. So. Priorities.â
Max raised an eyebrow. âArthur?â
âSuggested a campsite,â Isabelle muttered. âIn Corsica. In August. With no air conditioning.â
Max winced. âCriminal.â
âThen Maman said she was âfine with anything,â which we all know is a trap. And now someone needs to book rooms, coordinate flights, and arrange for something that resembles a plan so we donât end up yelling at each other on a dock somewhere again.â
Max blinked. âSo youâre doing it.â
âI always do it.â
That last part came out too soft, almost like she didnât mean to say it.
Max leaned back, watching her. Hair up in a clip, sleeves pushed to her elbows, brow furrowed in concentration. This was her armor. Her autopilot. The invisible job of being the quiet one. The dependable one. The one who held everything together while everyone else lived like the world would bend for them.
âOkay,â he said slowly. âSo⌠Leclerc family vacation, next week?â
âYeah.â
âWeâll go a week later.â
She paused mid-keystroke. âWhat?â
âYour familyâs doing their thing the 6th,â Max said, reaching for her notebook and gently closing it. âSo weâll do ours the 13th. Somewhere quiet. Just us.â
Her lips parted. âYou mean⌠another trip?â
âYeah.â He stretched his arm over the back of the couch, brushing his fingers through a loose strand of her hair. âOne where no one forgets your suitcase. Or sticks you with the worst room. Or makes you plan dinner for eight.â
A beat passed.
Then she asked, automatically, âWant me to look up flights?â
Max laughed softly, leaning in. âOne: I have a private jet.â
Isabelle blushed. âRight. I forget that sometimes.â
âTwo,â he said, voice dropping just a little, âIâm going to plan this one. You donât have to do anything.â
She stared at him like heâd offered her an alien concept.
Max tucked a finger under her chin, smiling gently. âYou donât always have to carry it all, Belle. Not with me.â
Her throat bobbed. âBut Iâmââ
âLet me take care of you for once,â he said simply.
And it hit herâthe realization that he meant it. That he liked doing this. That she didnât have to earn it, or apologize for it, or trade it for usefulness.
Just be loved.
Just rest.
Isabelle nodded slowly. âOkay.â
***
Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie
Emilie:Â Alright, whatâs the latest Max Verstappen Is a Perfect Boyfriend update?
Isabelle: âŚI donât know if itâs a big deal.
Emilie: Isabelle. It is. Just tell me.
Isabelle:Â He cuddles me after.
Emilie: âŚAfter?
Isabelle:Â Yeah.
Emilie: Like, after after?
Isabelle:Â Yes, Emilie.
Emilie:Â ARE YOU TELLING ME NONE OF YOUR EXES EVER CUDDLED YOU AFTER SEX?!
Isabelle: âŚI thought that wasnât really a thing?
Emilie:Â IâWHAT.
Isabelle:Â I mean, maybe for some people? But I always got the impression guys werenât really into that.
Emilie: No. No, no, no. They just werenât into you.
Isabelle:Â Gee, thanks.
Emilie:Â NOT WHAT I MEANT. I MEAN THEY DIDNâT CARE ABOUT YOU.
Isabelle:Â Oh. Yeah. That sounds more accurate.
Emilie: No one ever held you? Like, at all?
Isabelle: Not really. Sometimes theyâd roll over and go on their phones. Or just⌠leave.
Emilie: âŚAnd you were okay with that??
Isabelle:Â No? But I thought that was just how it was.
Emilie:Â Isabelle. Oh my god.
Isabelle: But Max just stays. Like, without me asking. He pulls me close, kisses my forehead, plays with my hair, runs his hands up and down my back. Even if we donât say anything, he just stays.
Emilie: Because he cares about you. Because he actually likes you.
Isabelle:Â I know.Â
***
The villa was beautiful.
Of course, it was. Isabelle had picked it.
Neutral-toned interiors, quiet luxury, three terraces, private beach access, and just enough separation between the bedrooms to avoid World War III.
Sheâd arranged the grocery delivery.
 The airport transfers.
 The private boat rental.
Carefully adjusted seating to avoid drama (Arthurâs girlfriend apparently did not want to sit next to Alexandra ever again)
It was her spreadsheet, her itinerary, her effort.
And yet, as she stood in the kitchen restocking the drinks fridge with sparkling water and wine, she may as well have been part of the cabinetry.
No one noticed.
Or, worseâthey noticed and assumed.
Assumed that of course sheâd print the vineyard directions, that sheâd know which car everyone was in, that sheâd restock the sunscreen, make the lunch reservations, mediate the âhow many towels is too many towelsâ fight between Arthur and his girlfriend (spoiler: it was not about the towels).
Her mother hadnât said thank you. Not once.
No one had.
Not for the itinerary.
 Not for the car rentals.
 Not for the fact that sheâd packed extra chargers and medicine and picked up Pascaleâs favorite jam from that little shop in Nice.
âIsabelle,â Pascale called from outside. âCan you bring out the extra glasses?â
Isabelle bit back a sigh, picked up the tray she had already prepared, and stepped outside with a smile.
The group was gathered around the outdoor table, wine in hand, sun-drenched and happy. Lorenzo was holding court about a minor work drama, Charlotte and Alexandra nodding sympathetically, while Arthurâs girlfriend laughed at something Charles said and Arthur scrolled on his phone.
No one looked up.
No one asked how Isabelle was doing.
No one offered to help.
She set the glasses down, smiled politely, and sat at the empty spot at the end of the table.
âI think we should do the coastal hike tomorrow,â Pascale said, sipping her wine. âBefore it gets too hot.â
âI thought we were doing the boat day,â Charles said.
âNo, thatâs Wednesday,â Isabelle said, gently. âThe captain wasnât available tomorrow.â
Pascale frowned. âDidnât you book it for Tuesday?â
âI did. Then they called to reschedule. I put it in the itinerary I emailed last week.â
No one responded.
Lorenzo changed the subject. âCharlotte, didnât you want to go to that vineyard?â
âOh yes!â Charlotte said. âThe one with the stone tasting room.â
âI have it bookmarked,â Isabelle said, scrolling on her phone. âWe can go Thursday after lunch.â
Again, silence. Then Arthur said, âDid anyone bring cards?â
Isabelle looked down at her glass, playing with the stem.
This was how it always was.
She planned.
 She coordinated.
 She smoothed everything over.
And they still looked right through her.
No one noticed her skip lunch. Or how she was always the last to sit down. Or how she cleared everyoneâs plates without being asked.Â
When the private chef asked who to talk to about allergies, they directed him to Isabelle. When the AC broke in Charlotteâs and Lorenzoâs room, Isabelle called the concierge. When the car for the beach trip got delayed, Charles tossed her his phone and said, âCan you handle this?â
She did.
She always did.
And yet, when someone poured rosĂŠ for the table at dinner that night, no one poured for her.
Not out of malice. Just⌠absence.
Isabelle sat back, watching her brothers laugh and bicker, their girlfriends leaning into the glow of effortless charm. Her mother, serene and smiling, gently correcting Arthurâs posture and calling Charlotte chĂŠrie.
Not once had anyone asked Isabelle how her work was going. How she was doing.
As if she didnât exist outside the role she played.
The problem wasâshe was too good at it.
Too good at making things smooth. Too good at stepping out of the way. Too good at fixing things before anyone noticed they were broken.
And now? No one even saw her hands holding the whole thing together.
Not even the people who were supposed to love her most.
She was just so tired.Â
***
Isabelle had texted him last night.
The usual emojis were missing. Her messages were shorter. And when heâd called her just after dinner, sheâd whispered, âIâm fine, itâs just a headache,â in the voice of someone trying not to cry in a bathroom.
Now, standing at the top of the stairs, he watched as a black car rolled to a stop at the edge of the airstrip. The driver stepped out and opened the doorâand there she was.
Isabelle.
Shoulders slumped, hair pulled into a hasty bun, sunglasses hiding her eyes. She moved like someone trying not to be perceived. Or maybe like someone who just wanted to stop moving altogether.
She climbed the stairs slowly, and when she reached him, she managed a soft smile.
âHi.â
Max cupped her face gently. âHey.â
Her voice was hoarse. âIâm sorry I look like hell.â
He blinked. âYou look like my favorite person.â
She laughed, sort of, but it turned into a wince.
Max frowned. âHeadache?â
She nodded. âItâs been going since yesterday. Loud house. Strong perfume. Arthurâs playlist.â
Max stepped aside so she could settle into the plush leather seat, already signaling to the crew to dim the lights and lower the cabin temperature. She sank into the chair, curling slightly toward the window.
He knelt beside her, undoing the buckle on her sandals like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âIâm sorry,â she whispered again, like it was some kind of failing.
Max looked up sharply.
âStop apologizing.â
She blinked behind her sunglasses. âI didnât meanââ
âYouâre in pain,â he said, his voice low, tight with something sharp and protective. âAnd exhausted. And still trying to be polite about it.â
She didnât reply.
âYou are not a burden,â Max continued, brushing a thumb over her knee. âYouâre not too much. And you donât have to smile through it just to make me comfortable.â
The silence stretched.
Then, quietly: âI am so tired, Max. I planned everything. Every hour, every restaurant, every day. And I donât think anyone even noticed.â
âI noticed,â he said immediately. âEven from home, I noticed.â
He stood and grabbed a blanket, gently draping it over her before sitting beside her and tugging her legs into his lap.
âClose your eyes,â he murmured. âWeâll be here a while.â
She blinked quickly, looking down at her hands. âIt was just a lot.â
âI know,â he said. âI read your texts. I could read between the lines.â
She gave a soft, tired laugh. âThat obvious, huh?â
âTo me? Always.â He leaned back.âYou shouldnât have to be the glue for everyone else, Belle. Especially not at the cost of your own peace.â
âIâm trying,â she said, her voice barely there. âItâs just hard to stop when no one else steps up.â
âThen let me step up.â
She closed her eyes again. Finally relaxed.
He tucked her closer.
And whispered, âRest. Iâve got you now.â
She fell asleep between one breath and the next. And didnât wake. Not during the flight⌠not during the landing.Â
Max moved slowly, careful not to wake her, easing one arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders. She let out the faintest breath but didnât stir, her head tipping lightly against his chest.
She weighed next to nothing like this.
The tarmac was still warm beneath his feet as he descended the steps.Â
Surprisingly, Lando could be trusted with vacation recommendation. The North Island in the Seychelles greeted them with turquoise, crystalline water and beautiful weather.
The villa Max had rented just for them stood nestled between palm trees and the beach, pale stone glowing in the late afternoon light. Secluded. Safe.
It had taken him exactly twenty minutes to book it after heâd read the description. Just:Â privacy, space, quiet.
A place she could breathe.
He carried her inside, murmured a quiet thank-you to the staff who had pre-stocked the fridge, and walked straight to the bedroom with the softest sheets.
He laid her down gently, brushed a few strands of hair away from her forehead.
Isabelle frowned in her sleepâlike even now, she didnât know how to fully let go.
Max knelt beside the bed and whispered, âItâs okay. You donât have to be anything right now.â
Then he pulled the blackout curtains closed, set water out on the nightstand for later, and moved through the house like a man on a mission.
No phones. No noise. No expectations.
Just him. Just her.
Just the silence she had earned.
***
Isabelle woke up to the sound of waves.
That was it.
Not alarms.
 Not messages.
 Not someone yelling across a hallway or calling her name from the bottom of a staircase.
Just waves. Slow and rhythmic, like a lullaby that had been playing long before she arrived and would keep going long after she left.
The room was warm with sunlight. Pale curtains fluttered lazily in the breeze, and the air smelled like salt and sun-warmed wood. She lay still for a long time, blinking up at the thatched ceiling, half-draped in linen sheets and Maxâs hoodie from the night before.
For a few seconds, she didnât remember where she was.
Then it hit her all at once: the flight, Max, peace.
And the fact that, for the first time in months, there was nothing to do.
 No family group chat spiraling into chaos.
Nothing.
Just this.
Isabelle sat up slowly, stretching, and looked out through the open doors to the private beach just steps away. White sand. Blue water. Palm trees swaying like they were dancing to music only they could hear.
And Max.
Already outside, barefoot in board shorts, sunglasses perched on his head, sprawled in a lounge chair like he owned the concept of leisure. He looked up the second she moved, and smiled.
Like she was the only thing worth seeing.
She stepped outside, bare feet hitting sun-warmed wood, and he lifted his arm without a word. She curled into his side, her cheek against his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head.
âMorning,â he murmured.
âItâs late.â
âWho cares?â
She shifted closer.Â
One hand moved slowly up and down her back. Not to fix her. Just to say Iâm here.
She felt him breathe. Felt her own breathing start to match his.
FeltâŚÂ safe.
Like she could finally put all of it down. The smiling. The pretending. The quiet, invisible labor of being the one who always held it together.
âYou donât have to say anything,â Max murmured, kissing her hair. âNot today.â
She didnât.
Didnât need to.
Because thisâhis arms around her, the hush of the ocean, the stillness he made just for herâthis was enough.
She closed her eyes.
And for the first time in weeks, Isabelle Leclerc let herself fully rest.
***
Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie
Isabelle:Â Emilie.
Emilie:Â Uh oh. What did Max do?
Isabelle:Â Nothing?? Thatâs the thing???
Emilie: âŚI need more context.
Isabelle:Â Weâre on vacation.
Emilie: Yes, I am painfully aware that youâre somewhere warm and beautiful with your perfect boyfriend while Iâm stuck here. Continue.
Isabelle: I havenât had to plan anything. Not a single thing.
Emilie: âŚAnd?
Isabelle:Â No scheduling. No coordinating. No last-minute scrambling.
Isabelle:Â Do you understand how weird that is for me???
Emilie: Isabelle. That is literally how vacations are supposed to work.
Isabelle: I know??? But Iâm just so used to handling everything.
Isabelle: And Max just⌠took care of it. Flights, hotel, reservations. Everything.
Emilie: And youâre struggling becauseâŚ?
Isabelle: Because I keep waiting for something to go wrong and for someone to expect me to fix it. But nothing has gone wrong.
Emilie: Thatâs because Max is a fully functional adult. Unlike, you know. Your brothers.
Isabelle: âŚHuh.
Emilie:Â What.
Isabelle: Nothing. Just. Huh.
Emilie: Thatâs the sound of your brain rebooting because someone is actually taking care of you for once.
Isabelle:Â Maybe.
Emilie: Definitely. Now go enjoy your stress-free vacation. You deserve it.
Isabelle: âŚThis is so weird.
Emilie:Â Youâll get used to it.
***
The difference was almost laughable.
The second morning, she woke up slowly, stretching under the soft sheets, and realized something was missing. She wasnât exhausted. She wasnât checking her phone to make sure everything was running on schedule.
She just was.
Max, lying beside her, traced lazy circles on her arm and murmured, âYou okay?â
She turned her head to look at him, her face half-buried in the pillow. âThis is weird.â
His lips twitched. âWhat is?â
âNot having to do anything.â
Max let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. âYeah, thatâs kind of the point, Schatje.â
She didnât quite know how to put it into wordsâthat she wasnât used to this, to someone making sure she was taken care of. That she had spent her whole life organizing and managing and making sure everyone else was comfortable, and now, for the first time, she was the one being looked after.
And Max wasnât making a big deal out of it. He wasnât acting like it was some grand gesture. He just did it, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like she was worth the effort.
By the third day, Isabelle wasnât sure whether to be impressed or completely unnerved by how easily Max took over.
They had spent the morning by the beach, and when sheâd started to gather their towels and check if they needed to book dinner somewhere, Max had just taken the towels from her hands and said, âI already made a reservation.â
At her look of disbelief, he had only smirked. âYou think I donât know how to plan things?â
âItâs not that,â she said, stretching out on the lounge chair. âI just⌠Iâm usually the one who does this kind of thing.â
Max hummed, pushing his sunglasses up. âMaybe thatâs the problem.â
She blinked. âWhat?â
âYou always do everything.â His tone was light, but his gaze was sharp behind the tinted lenses. âFor your family. For work. You take care of everyone. But who takes care of you?â
The question caught her off guard.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. She wanted to say nobody needs to, but the truth was, no one ever really had.
And then Max, like he could hear the wheels turning in her head, just reached over and brushed his fingers against hers.
âYouâre allowed to let someone else handle things,â he murmured. âYou donât have to do everything alone.â
She swallowed, staring at their hands. His fingers were warm, steady.
âItâs just how itâs always been,â she admitted softly.
âI know,â Max said, lacing their fingers together. âBut it doesnât have to be.â
She didnât answer, but when they went back to the villa, she didnât ask where they were having dinner. She didnât double-check the reservation or worry about what time they needed to leave.
Instead, she let Max take her hand and lead her out the door, into the night, into something she wasnât quite used to but thoughtâjust maybeâshe could get used to.
Dinner was at a small, candlelit restaurant overlooking the ocean. Isabelle didnât recognize the name, but the staff greeted Max like an old friend when they arrived.
âYouâve been here before?â she asked as they were led to their table.
Max pulled out her chair before sitting down himself. âI got a recommendation from a friend.â He shrugged. âI like places that are quiet.â
She understood what he meant the moment they sat down. The restaurant was intimate, with soft music playing in the background, the ocean breeze drifting through open windows. It was nothing like the places her family always pickedâgrand, extravagant, and often exhausting.
âYou know,â she said after the waiter poured their wine. âI donât think Iâve ever had a vacation like this before.â
Max raised a brow. âLike what?â
She gestured vaguely. âWhere I didnât have to plan everything. Where I didnât feel like I had to keep everything together.â
Max studied her for a long moment, then set his glass down. âYou shouldnât have to feel like that at all.â
She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. âItâs just how it is.â
âBut it shouldnât be,â he countered. âThatâs my point.â
Isabelle exhaled, shaking her head. âMaxââ
âNo, listen.â He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. âYou spent weeks making sure your motherâs birthday was perfect. You handle everything for your family, and they donât even realize it. When was the last time someone did something like that for you?â
She stayed quiet.
âThatâs what I mean,â Max said. âYou do so much for everyone, but no one ever makes sure youâre okay.â
She wanted to argue, to say that wasnât true, but the words wouldnât come. Because he wasnât wrong.
Max sighed, sitting back. âI just donât want you to think you always have to be the responsible one. That you always have to be the one making sacrifices.â
âI donât mind,â she murmured.
âYou shouldnât have to,â he said simply.
She twisted her wine glass between her fingers. It was strange, this feeling of being cared for so deliberately. Like Max had been quietly watching, noticing the cracks no one else had.
And then he smiled, easy and warm. âBut for now, you donât have to think about any of that.â He lifted his glass toward her. âThis week, I handle everything.â
She hesitated, then clinked her glass against his.
It was just a week.
But for once, maybe that was enough.
***
Leclerc Sibling Group Chat
(members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles and Lorenzo)
Charles:Â Isabelle.
Charles:Â Isabelle.
Charles:Â Isabelle.
Charles:Â RĂŠponds.
Arthur:Â Maybe sheâs busy?
Charles:Â Isabelle is never busy.
( One hour laterâŚÂ )
Isabelle:Â What do you want?
Charles: Wow. No hello? No how are you?
Isabelle:Â Charles.
Charles:Â Okay, fine.
Charles:Â Whatâs Alexandraâs shoe size?
Isabelle: Why are you asking me?
Charles:Â Youâre a girl. You know these things.
Isabelle: âŚCharles. You live with Alexandra. Just pick up a pair of shoes from your girlfriend and CHECK FOR YOURSELF.
Charles: âŚoh.Â
Charles:Â Thatâs actually smart.
Arthur:Â Wait.
Arthur:Â Why did it take you so long to answer?
Isabelle:Â I was busy.
Arthur:Â With what?
Isabelle:Â Living my life.
Arthur:Â Thatâs vague.
Charles:Â Yeah, where even are you?
Isabelle:Â On vacation.
Arthur:Â ???
Charles:Â Since when?
Isabelle:Â A few days ago.
Charles:Â Where are you?
Isabelle:Â The Seychelles.
Arthur:Â THE SEYCHELLES???
Arthur:Â WITH WHO???
Isabelle:Â A friend.
Arthur:Â You have some of those?!
Isabelle:Â Yes, Arthur, I do have friends.Â
***
Instagram Post -@/maxverstappen1
Comments:
@/victoriaverstappen:Â Finally taking a break that doesn't involve a garage đ
@/danielricciardo:Â Blink twice if youâre being held hostage by a lifestyle influencer.
@/landonorris: Are you⌠relaxed?? Is this what peace looks like on you?
@/gridgirlie:Â Iâm sorry, but this man does NOT look that content alone.
@/charlesleclercsneck:Â no but WHO took these??? Max didnât set up a tripod I KNOW THAT FOR A FACT
âłÂ @/sunsetandsebastian: Itâs the secret horse riding girlfriend!Â
Instagram Post -@/isabelleleclerc
Comments:
@/f1updates:Â HOLD ON. WHERE DID YOU GO AND WHO ARE YOU WITH??
@/f1detectives: Wait⌠these pictures arenât from the Leclerc family vacation last week, right?!?.
âł@/wagwatch: Omg youâre RIGHT. The Leclercs were in Corsica, and this is⌠definitely not Corsica.
âł@/f1updates: Wait, was she even on that trip?!  (I donât think I have seen her in any pictures her brothers posted?)
âł@/isabelleleclerc:Â Yes!! I was on the family trip!! These are just from a different vacation.
@/leclercnation:Â Isabelle, where are you NOW???
âł@/isabelleleclerc:Â Just a little trip with a friend for a week đ
âł@/leclercfanclub:Â âA little trip with a friendâ GIRL THIS IS PARADISE
@/victoriaverstappel:Â Enjoy the vacation! And take lots of pictures, I want to sigh dreamily when you show them to me!Â
@/f1sleuths: Sooo, if this isnât the Leclerc family vacation⌠where exactly is she?
âł@/paddockwatch: And who is this friend taking her on a luxury getaway? đ
@/emilie_abadie: jealous đ¤Š
@/gridgirls: If this is what a âquiet getaway with a friendâ looks like, I need to start choosing better friends.
@/paddocktea:Â What do we think? Single era glow-up? Secret relationship? The people need answers.
***
Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie
Isabelle:Â Emilie. It happened again.
Emilie: What, relaxation? Peace? Being taken care of??
Isabelle:Â Yes??
Emilie:Â Isabelle, I swear to Godâ
Isabelle: We went on a hike today. I just⌠followed Max. Thatâs it. No figuring out where to go, no checking maps, no making sure there was water or sunscreen or food.
Emilie:Â And??
Isabelle: It felt wrong. Like I should be doing something.
Emilie:Â ISABELLE.
Isabelle:Â I know. IÂ know.
Emilie:Â This is years of being the responsible one catching up to you.
Isabelle:Â He even packed snacks??Â
Emilie: That sounds horrible.
Isabelle:Â Shut up.
Emilie:Â Seriously, why are you texting me? Shouldnât you be enjoying this?
Isabelle:Â I think my body is rejecting the concept of not having to plan or worry about anyone else.
Emilie: That is a you problem.
Isabelle: He just told me we have a boat day tomorrow. I didnât even know we had a boat day tomorrow.
Emilie:Â And what are you expected to do?
Isabelle: Nothing. Just be there.
Emilie: âŚOkay, I sort of get why youâre spiraling.
Isabelle:Â Right???
Emilie: But also. Isabelle. Sweetheart. This is what happens when you date someone who pays attention and puts in effort.
Isabelle: âŚHuh.
Emilie:Â STOP SAYING âHUHâ LIKE YOU JUST DISCOVERED FIRE.
Isabelle: I think I have discovered fire.
Emilie: Youâre dating Max Verstappen. Not one of your brothers.
Isabelle: I just⌠I didnât think I was this bad at being taken care of.
Emilie: You are. But the good news? Youâre learning.
Isabelle: âŚMaybe.
Emilie: Definitely. Now relax and let your very rich, very organized boyfriend spoil you.
Isabelle:Â Huh.
Emilie:Â Iâm blocking you.
***
The light was warm and low, spilling through the palm trees and painting the terrace in soft amber.
Isabelle sat with her knees pulled up on the oversized lounger, still in her swimsuit and one of Maxâs linen shirts, damp curls tucked behind her ears. Her sketchbook was open on her lap, untouched, pencil resting against the paper. She hadnât drawn a single thing in an hour.
She was too content to move.
Max sat beside her, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, sipping from a glass of something cold and citrusy. The sea whispered in the background. He hadnât looked at his phone in hours.
They were quiet.
It wasnât silence that needed to be filled. It was just safe.
She turned her head and found him watching her.
âWhat?â she asked softly.
Max tilted his head. âYou know what would be nice?â
âTell me.â
âIf you met my family before Zandvoort.â
The question landed so gently she almost didnât realize it was a question. It was just Maxâcalm, steady, offering something important like it wasnât a big deal. Like he hadnât just opened a door and waited for her to walk through it.
Isabelle blinked. âBefore Zandvoort?â
He nodded. âJust a quiet dinner. In Belgium maybe, or Monaco, whateverâs easier. My dad. Mum. Victoria. Tom. Their kids. No pressure.â
Isabelle looked down at her sketchbook. Her heart fluttered.
Meeting Maxâs family wasnât something sheâd let herself think aboutânot seriously. Because what they had felt big sometimes, and big things had a habit of slipping away if she looked at them too hard.
But Max?
Max never made her feel like she had to earn her place.
She looked back up, searching his face. âAre you sure?â
Max smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world. âTheyâll love you.â
She chewed on the inside of her cheek. âAnd⌠if they donât?â
âThey will,â he said, without hesitation. âBut if they didnâtâwhich they willâI still would. Thatâs what matters.â
Her throat went tight.
âYou donât have to say yes now,â he added, quieter now, reaching for her hand. âBut I want you there. I want them to know you like I do.â
She leaned in and kissed his shoulder, then tucked herself under his arm.
âI want that too,â she whispered. âOkay. Before Zandvoort.â
He squeezed her hand.
And for a while, they just sat there as the sun dipped into the ocean, a promise tucked between them like something sacred.
***
Leclerc Sibling Group ChatÂ
(members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, and Lorenzo)
Charles:Â Zandvoortâs coming up. Arthur, you good with logistics?
Arthur:Â Yep. Iâm flying in Tuesday morning.
Isabelle: Heyâ Iâm actually in the Netherlands that week for a work event. Rotterdam. I was thinking⌠if you two are okay with it, I could come to Zandvoort for the weekend? Iâd love to watch you both race.
Arthur:Â Yeah, totally. Thatâd be nice.
Charles:Â Definitely, yeah. It would be nice to have you there.
Arthur:Â Weâll have Ferrari add you to the room block, right, Charles?
Charles:Â Yeah, yeah. Easy. Iâll let the team know youâre joining.
Isabelle:Â Okay! Iâll come down Friday morning after my meetings wrap up. Canât wait to see you both.
Arthur:Â Bring those granola bars you had at Silverstone.Â
Charles:Â Bring some for me too.
***
Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie
Isabelle:Â He wants me to meet his family before Zandvoort.
Isabelle:  His entire family.
Isabelle:Â Â Dinner. At his mother's house. No pressure apparently.
Emilie:Â Max Verstappen just casually inviting you into the lionâs den. Classic.
Emilie:Â Â Are you freaking out?
Isabelle:Â Â I am in a controlled state of panic.
Emilie: You do realize youâre literally the perfect daughter-in-law, right?
Emilie:Â Youâre quiet, polite, absurdly thoughtful, and stunning in a soft-lighting European cinema kind of way.
Isabelle:Â I am really not.Â
Emilie:Â You listen. You make people feel calm just by existing.
Emilie:Â Â His family will LOVE you.
Emilie:Â Â And if they donât, thatâs not a reflection of you.
Emilie:Â Â Itâs a red flag, and Iâll show up swinging.
Isabelle: He was so casual about it. âTheyâll love you,â he said. Just like that. No hesitation.
Emilie: Because he knows they will. Max isnât casual about anything he doesnât absolutely mean.
Isabelle:Â What if I forget how to talk? Or what if Victoria is terrifying?
Emilie: You talk when you have something worth saying. And Victoria? Sheâll adore you. Youâre going to be her sons' new favorite person within five minutes. Probably less.
Emilie: You donât have to prove anything, Belle. You just have to show up. The rest takes care of itself. Youâre already his family. The rest is just the intro.
Isabelle:Â I love you.
Emilie: I know. Be polite and devastatingly charming at dinner.
***
Isabelle had been in high-pressure situations before.
Final exams, high-stakes client presentations, being the only woman in a room full of men twice her age who thought she was just there to take notesânone of those compared to standing in the Verstappen family home, about to meet Maxâs family for the first time.
Max had assured her it would be fine. Heâd been so casual about it, telling her âTheyâll love you,â like it was a certainty. But then again, he already loved her, and heâd made that seem inevitable, too.
The door opened before she could finish that thought, and suddenly, she was being yanked inside by an overenthusiastic blonde.
"Finally!" Victoria Verstappen declared, looping an arm around Isabelleâs before she even had a chance to say hello. "I was beginning to think you were a myth."
Max rolled his eyes, following them inside. "I literally told you about her months ago. You have talked to her."
"And yet, this is the first time Iâm meeting her," Victoria shot back before turning to Isabelle with a knowing grin. "Ignore him. I already love you, by the way."
"Thatâs⌠good," Isabelle said, slightly breathless from the whirlwind welcome. "Iâd hate to be off to a bad start."
"Not possible," Victoria declared before releasing her and giving Max a pointed look. "You never bring anyone home. I donât care who she is. She could be an alien, and Iâd still be thrilled."
Max sighed. "Sheâs not an alien."
"Shame," Victoria said with a dramatic sigh before linking their arms again. "Come on. Mum is dying to meet you."
They were halfway through the house before Isabelle even had a chance to look around properly. It was warm and invitingâthe kind of place where people laughed loudly at the dinner table and where childhood photos still hung on the walls.
She barely had time to take in the framed pictures before she was pulled into a hug by a woman who could only be Sophie Kumpen.
"Isabelle," she said warmly, squeezing her hands when she pulled back. "Itâs so lovely to finally meet you."
"You too," Isabelle said sincerely.
"Max has told me so much about you," Sophie continued, giving her son a pointed look. "I was beginning to think heâd made you up."
Victoria cackled. "Thatâs what I said!"
Max groaned. "Why does everyone think Iâm lying?"
Before anyone could answer, another voice cut through the conversation.
"Youâre Charlesâ sister."
The room shifted slightly as all attention turned to Jos Verstappen.
Max tensed beside her, and Victoria, who had been all smiles just moments ago, pressed her lips together in something that looked suspiciously like exasperation.
But Isabelle didnât waver. She turned to look at him and nodded. "Yes."
Jos hummed, gaze sharp. Then silence.
It stretched long enough that Max was clearly about to intervene, but before he could, Sophie clapped her hands together, cutting through the tension like it was nothing.
"Letâs sit," she said, smiling as if Jos hadnât just been scrutinizing Isabelle like she was an opponent on track. "I made tea."
The conversation moved on, shifting to lighter topicsâVictoriaâs kids, Sophieâs recent travels, Maxâs upcoming races. But Isabelle could still feel Josâ gaze on her, quietly assessing.
Max never let go of her hand.
It wasnât until much later, after dinner, after Victoriaâs sons had climbed all over Isabelle and decided that she was their new favourite person, when the conversation had lulled and Isabelle was helping Sophie clear the table, that Jos spoke to her again.
"Youâre an architect?"
She turned, nodding. "Yes."
"That takes discipline."
"It does."
He studied her for a long moment. Thenâ "Max needs someone like that."
It wasnât outright approval. It wasnât exactly warm.
But it was something.
And when Max returned, slinging an arm around her shoulders like he had no intention of letting her go, Isabelle decided it was enough.
***
The lobby was nice in that neutral, five-star motorsport weekend kind of way. Polished stone floors, a curated floral arrangement on the front desk, one of those confusing water features that seemed to exist purely for aesthetic drama.
Isabelle smiled at the receptionist with practiced ease, suitcase in hand, lanyard tucked into her coat pocket.Â
She was exhausted, having run herself ragged over the last few days with a client install in Rotterdam. She had managed to wrap that up, just in time to catch the train towards Zandvoort with only a small amount of cursing.
âHi, I should have a room with the Ferrari team block? Leclerc?â
The receptionist tapped quickly on the keyboard. Pause. Frown. Tap again.
Isabelle kept smiling. She knew this look.
âIâm so sorry,â the woman said kindly. âI donât see a reservation under your name.â
âOh,â Isabelle replied, blinking once. âCould you check again? Maybe under Charles or Arthur?â
More typing. The womanâs brows drew together. âThey both have rooms, but⌠thereâs nothing additional listed. I donât see a third Leclerc on the team list. And all our rooms are booked for tonight.â
Isabelle nodded, her face still polite. âRight. No worries.â
Because what else could she say?
Because of course, theyâd forgotten.
It wasnât even anger that hit her. Just a quiet, familiar ache, the kind that wrapped itself around her ribs and pressed in slowly.
She stepped away from the counter, wheeling her suitcase off to the side. The hotel lobby was buzzingâPR people, Ferrari junior drivers, Red Bull interns in matching polos. People who had rooms. People who had plans.
She pulled out her phone and opened a message thread she knew she could trust.
To: MaxÂ
Apparently I do not exist to the Ferrari logistics team. I promise Iâm not trying to be dramatic. I just⌠donât really know what to do right now.
The three dots popped up immediately.
Max:Â Room 706.
Isabelle:Â Max, I donât want to cause a scene.
Max:Â Youâre not. Youâre coming upstairs. Youâre not spending the night in the lobby because your brothers forgot you.
Isabelle:Â Youâre busy. I donât want to be in the way.
Max:Â Youâre not in the way. Youâre mine. Room 706. Come up. The door is open. Youâve got a place with me. Always.
She stared at the message for a moment, biting her lip.
No one had ever said it like that. Not her family. Not even past relationships. Like she wasnât something to accommodate but someone who belonged.
Then, gathering her bag, she stood and waited by the elevators, wondering how something as painful as being forgotten could still land her exactly where she was supposed to be.
***
Gianpiero Lambiase had seen Max Verstappen through just about everything.
From raw, sharp-edged teenager to relentless world champion. From radio meltdowns to perfect laps in impossible conditions. From reckless frustration to the rare, still moments where he let his guard downâjust enough to be human.
But over the past five months, GP had noticed him changing once again.Â
It wasnât dramatic. Max hadnât started writing poetry or singing love songs. There were no fireworks, no sweeping declarations.
It was quieter than that.
He smiled more.
Texted back.
Stopped snapping at the comms team over small things.
Started asking if someone else needed anything before the garage debrief ended.
And then there were the little tells. Subtle changes GP clocked because he always clocked them.
The way Max would glance at his phone with a barely-there smile. The occasional âoh, sheâd like thisâ muttered at a merch stand or a snack table.
She.
GP hadnât needed to ask who.
Because he had known since Max started asking him for relationship advice. Because clearly, GP was a fountain of romantic wisdom because GP had somehow managed to persuade his wife to take pity of him and marry him.Â
GP had observed.Â
Had allowed his eyes to track Isabelle Leclerc whenever she happened to show up at a race. Heâd seen her in the background. Quiet. Observing. Never trying to claim space that wasnât offered.
Isabelle Leclerc.
The girl with the soft voice and sharper eyes.Â
She wasnât flashy. Wasnât chasing the spotlight.
Which was probably why Max was so hopelessly gone for her.
So when Max looked at his phone mid-dinner and smiledâreally smiledâGP didnât need to ask who it was.
He just sighed.
And then he watched how Maxâs whole body language changed in an instance, swallowing the bite of food he had just taken, his jaw clenching, tapping on his phone with barely contained rage.Â
GP raised an eyebrow. âEmergency?â
Max stood and muttered, âKind of,â before grabbing his room key and disappearing into the hallway without another word.
GP blinked. â...What?â
He took a bite of luke warm pasta, leaned back, and waited. Max was many thingsâbrilliant, intense, chronically infuriatingâbut he wasnât cryptic without reason.
And GP hated when Max was cryptic.
The door opened again.
And Max walked in with Isabelle Leclerc.
GP blinked.
For a split second, he thought he was hallucinating. Maybe something in the hotel pasta had finally triggered a stress-induced fever dream.
But no. There she was. Real, flushed with embarrassment, wearing a coat and carrying a travel bag, clearly trying to disappear into the carpet.
Max, looking infuriatingly casual: âGP, this is Isabelle.â
As if GP didnât know exactly who she was.
Leclerc.
 As in Charles Leclercâs sister.
 As in "Ferrariâs Golden Boy Is Going To Break The FIA When He Finds Out Youâre Sleeping With His Sister" Leclerc.
GP set down his fork. Slowly. Carefully.
âHi,â she said softly. âSorry. This isnât how I pictured meeting you.â
GP blinked.
âShe didnât have a hotel room,â Max added, like that explained everything.
âSo you invited her to your room,â GP said flatly.
Isabelle turned even pinker. âI didnât know he wasnât alone.â
GP stared at Max, then at her, then back at Max, who had the gall to sip his water like they werenât seconds away from becoming a tabloid headline.
âIn the Netherlands,â GP clarified.
âYes,â Max said.
âDuring your home Grand Prix.â
âYes.â
GP took a long, slow breath. âPerfectly reasonable.â
Max didnât even blink.
Isabelle, bless her, looked like she wanted to apologize for existing. âI can goâŚâ
GP waved her off. âNo, no, please. Youâre already more pleasant than he is.â
Max threw a piece of bread at him.
GP caught it midair without looking.
Then he sighed.Â
âWhat do you mean she didnât have a room?â he asked Max with a raised eyebrow.Â
âShe thought her brothers had booked her one,â Max said, like he wasnât holding back fury with every word. âThey didnât.â
GPâs fork hit the table. âYouâre kidding.â
âNope.â
GP turned to Isabelle, who was doing her best to shrink into her jacket. âThey left you without a room?â
âI think they forgot I was coming,â she said, voice light, like it didnât sting. Like it didnât matter. âItâs okay. I just didnât want to make a fuss tonight.â
Maxâs jaw clenched.
And GPâwho had been mad at Max for a million things over the yearsâsuddenly wanted to march down the hall and yell at two grown men for treating their sister like a misplaced backpack.
âYouâre staying here tonight,â Max said firmly. âEnd of discussion.â
GP crossed his arms. âI meanâyes. Obviously. But still. Youâre telling me neither of them noticed?â
Isabelle looked away. âI guess not.â
Max let out a low, sharp breath through his nose.
It wasnât just annoyance. It was rage. But the quiet kind. The kind Max only reserved for people who hurt the very small handful of people he actually loved.
Max rubbed a hand over his face and stood. Walked across the room. Paced, like he had no idea what to do with the fury crawling under his skin.
âSheâs staying here,â he said again, turning to GP.
âObviously.â
GP looked at Isabelle more gently now. âFor what itâs worth, theyâre idiots.â
Isabelle smiled faintly. âIâm kind of used to it.â
Max stopped pacing and came to stand beside her. He didnât touch herânot yetâbut the tension in his jaw said everything.
He was furious. Not just on her behalf, but because deep down, heâd known this would happen. And he hadnât been there in time to stop it.
âYou deserve better,â Max said quietly, only for her.
GP cleared his throat. âOkay. Well. Iâm going to leave you two alone before I throw something.â
Isabelle blinked. âWaitâyouâre mad?â
âOh, Iâm mad,â GP muttered. âJust not at you.â
He grabbed his notes, paused in the doorway, and said to Max: âI want you in bed in the next thirty minutes.â
Max smirked.
GP pointed at him. âDonât.â
Then he looked at Isabelle again. Really looked.
And in that second, watching the way Maxâs entire body shifted around herâthe protectiveness, the softness, the calmâGP felt the sharp edge of his frustration melt into something else.
Respect.
âYouâre good for him,â he said simply.
Isabelleâs eyes widened a little. âThank you.â
âAnd Max?â GP said one last time. âIf they forget her againâI will. Personally. Book. Her. A. Room.â
Max nodded solemnly. âNoted.â
GP closed the door behind him.
And in the hallway, alone, he muttered:
âGoddamn Leclerc brothers. Idiots, the lot of them.â
Then: â...But at least Max got something right.â
***
The door clicked shut behind GP, and the room fell into a thick, heavy silence.
Isabelle was still standing near the foot of the bed, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. She looked small. Not fragileâbut like someone whoâd been holding herself upright for hours longer than she shouldâve.
Max crossed the room and gently took the travel bag from her shoulder.
âYou can relax now,â he said quietly.
She gave him a weak smile. âI didnât mean to crash dinner.â
âYou didnât,â he replied. âWe were already nearly done.â
He set her bag down carefully by the armchair and turned back to her, studying her face. She looked pale beneath the overhead lights, cheeks still flushed from the hallway chill. Her eyes had the telltale glassiness of someone who was trying very hard not to cry out of sheer exhaustion.
âHave you eaten?â he asked.
She blinked. âIâwhat?â
âWhen was the last time you ate?â
She blinked. âUm⌠this morning?â
âThis morning,â he repeated, and it came out sharper than he meant it to.
She winced. âI didnât have time, Max. Itâs not a big deal.â
He turned and stalked toward the room service menu like he needed somewhere to put the anger. Not at her. Never at her.
But her brothers?
They had let her show up to Zandvoort and forgotten to book her a room.Â
 And now here she wasâexhausted, underfed, and still trying to act like it wasnât a big deal.
Like being forgotten was normal.
He pulled the phone off the receiver and ordered something warm. Soup. Bread. Tea.
She hovered by the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around herself.
âDonât make a whole thing out of this,â she said, voice small.
He looked at her. âMaking sure you had a place to sleep? A meal? Thatâs not a whole thing, thatâs the bare minimum.â
âI know, I know.â She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. âI justâI didnât want to make a fuss. Charles was already stressed about media stuff and Arthur was busy with somethingâŚâ
âAnd they forgot about you,â Max said flatly. âAgain.â
âMax.â
âIâm not going to yell at them,â he said, trying to tamp down the fire crawling up his throat. âBut donât ask me to pretend itâs okay. Itâs not.â
She sank onto the edge of the bed, hands curled in her lap. âIf I get upset, they make me feel like Iâm overreacting. If I donât say anything, I get forgotten. Itâs likeâIâm either too much or invisible.â
Max crossed the room, crouched in front of her. Rested his hands on her knees, grounding.
âYou are not too much,â he said. âAnd you are never invisible. Not to me.â
She blinked hard, closing her eyes, pressing the heels of her hands against them. He just looked at her, at the shaky way she exhaled.Â
There was a knock at the door. Room service.
She tried to stand up, but he squeezed her hand.
âIâll get it,â he said. âYou just⌠sit. Please.â
He brought the tray over himselfâsoup, warm rolls, tea already steeping in the potâand set it on the table in front of the window. Isabelle sat cross-legged on the bed, watching him like he might vanish if she blinked too hard.
âEat first,â he said softly.Â
She hesitated for a momentâthen nodded and reached for the spoon.
Halfway through the meal, she finally looked a little more like herself. Less pale. Less folded in on herself. Her shoulders relaxed. She leaned into his side, one hand resting on his knee, like she needed to stay grounded.
âThank you,â she murmured.
He kissed the top of her head.
âYouâre mine,â he said, like it was the simplest truth in the world.Â
She didnât say anything back. But she reached for his hand under the table, tangled their fingers, and held on tight.
And that was enough.
***
Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen
Isabelle:Â My brothers left for the track without me.
Isabelle:Â They literally forgot I was even staying in the same hotel.
Isabelle:Â I came downstairs and the receptionist said, âYour family already left.â Like I was late for a school trip.
Isabelle: I know youâre busy, I just⌠needed to tell someone before I screamed into a decorative pillow.
Max:Â Are you serious?
Max:Â Stay right there. Iâm sending someone now. Youâre not taking a taxi like some fan on a giveaway pass.
Isabelle: Max, itâs fineâ
Max:Â No, itâs not.Â
Isabelle: You donât have to fix everything.
Max:Â I want to fix this.
Max:Â Stay where you are.
***
Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Daniel Ricciardo
Max:Â Are you still at the hotel?
Daniel:Â Yeah, just finishing my coffee. Why?
Max:Â Can you give someone a ride to the track?
Daniel:Â Yeah, no worries. Who?
Max:Â Isabelle Leclerc. Her brothers left without her.
Daniel: Wait. Charlesâ Isabelle?
Max:Â Yeah.
Daniel:Â Why is she not with them?
Max:Â They forgot her.Â
Daniel: âŚBrutal. Alright, Iâll head down and grab her.
Max:Â Thanks. Be nice.
Daniel: When am I not nice?
Max:Â Donât answer that.
Daniel: So⌠why are you arranging this?
Daniel:Â Since when are you a Leclerc family concierge?
Max:Â Since right now. Go get her.
Daniel:Â Alright alright, Iâm going.
Daniel:Â Youâre weirdly invested in this.
***
Daniel Ricciardo had done a lot of weird favors in his lifeâonce helped a teammate move house using a go-kart trailer, once lied to a customs officer about being allergic to oranges just to dodge a fruit declarationâbut picking up Isabelle Leclerc from the hotel lobby because her own brothers had forgotten her? This one was top tier.
He didnât know Isabelle wellâheâd met her a handful of times, mostly quiet paddock hellos and awkward âCharlesâ little sisterâ nodsâbut he was 100% sure she didnât deserve to be ditched like a stray sock in a hotel lobby.
Who does that to their sister?
He had a sister. If someone had left Michelle behind at a race weekend? Heâd have thrown hands. The thought of Isabelle, standing in some quiet hotel lobby while her brothers sped off to the circuit like she was an afterthoughtâit made his blood simmer.
He spotted her right away: sunglasses on, hair in a braid, sitting quietly in one of those fancy lobby chairs that always looked too stiff to be comfortable. She stood when she saw him, smoothing her skirt and lifting a tote bag onto her shoulder with calm, effortless grace.
âHey,â he said, waving. âMax sent me.â
âI figured,â she said with a small smile. âThanks for doing this. I really appreciate it.â
âNo problem.â He gestured toward the car. âAlthough Iâve gotta say, you being stranded wasnât on my bingo card for today.â
She let out a soft laugh as they walked. âIt wasnât on mine either.â
âI meanâhow do they forget you?â he asked, a little incredulous now. âYouâre their sister. This isnât like forgetting your phone charger.â
âTheyâre⌠busy,â Isabelle said diplomatically, as if that explained everything. Her voice was soft, her expression sincere, and it made something tug in his chest. She wasnât mad. She wasnât throwing a fit. She wasnât calling her brothers to scream at them.
She was justâŚÂ taking it.
And that, somehow, made it worse.
âSeriously,â he said as they headed to the car, âthey just left without you?â
âTheyâre not very detail-oriented,â she said with a light shrug, like she was used to making excuses for them.
Daniel frowned. âTheyâre your brothers, not a logistics team.â
She just smiled a little. âItâs fine.â
But it wasnât.
He opened the door for her and tried not to seethe the entire way to the circuit.Â
The silence in the car was comfortable, oddly enough. Isabelle looked out the window, the sunlight catching in her hair. She smelled like something soft and green and expensiveânot perfume-y, just... nice. Warm.
âSo,â he said after a moment, âyou and Max talk much?â
She tilted her head slightly. âSometimes.â
He narrowed his eyes. âHe didnât explain anything when he asked me to pick you up.â
âIâm not surprised.â
âHe just said you needed a ride, and that I was supposed to be nice.â
She smiled to herself. âThat sounds like him.â
Daniel watched her for a beat longer. There was something easy in how she spoke about Max. Something familiar. Something⌠personal.
Suspicious.
He knew that tone. It was the same one Michelle used when she pretended she wasnât dating her coworker. The same one his friends used when they were trying not to spill the beans too early.
Then, the kicker: her phone buzzed.
She glanced at it, read the screen, and her entire expression softenedâsmile tugging at the corner of her mouth in a way that made her glow.
Daniel caught a glimpse of the contact name.
Max. With a little heart emoji.
And that was it.
The lightbulb went on.
âYouâre with Max,â he blurted out.
Isabelle blinked. âSorry?â
âYouâre dating him.â
She blinked again, clearly debating denial⌠then gave up with a sigh and a smile. âPlease donât tell Charles.â
He gasped. âCharles doesnât know.â
âDanielâŚâ
âI canât unknow this now, Isabelle! This is, like, Top Secret Gossip of the Year! You canât just hand me this emotional grenade and expect me not to panic!â
She laughed thenâsoft and realâand Daniel blinked. She looked⌠happy. Actually, genuinely happy.
He slowed down a little. âSo⌠youâre good? With him?â
She nodded. âBetter than I ever thought I could be.â
Daniel let out a long breath and shook his head. âOkay. Fine. Iâll take it to the grave. But when Charles finds out, Iâm not in the room. Iâm not even in the country.â
***
The paddock was buzzing, media wrapping up, and Max had just emerged from debrief when Daniel cornered him like a man on a mission.
âHey,â Daniel said, arms crossed. âWe need to talk.â
Max raised an eyebrow, completely unsurprised. âAbout?â
âYou know what about,â Daniel said. âDonât play dumb.â
Max took a sip of his Red Bull, deadpan. âYou found out.â
âI picked her up from the hotel,â Daniel snapped. âI drove her. I talked to her for fifteen minutes. Sheâs warm, sheâs kind, she listensâMax, sheâs human sunshine.â
Max smirked, because yeah. Isabelle kind of was.
 âAlso? Her brothers left her behind this morning. They forgot her. Like she was a damn charger cable.â
Max exhaled through his nose. âThey also forgot to book her a room,â Max said, voice going tight.
ââŚWhat?â
âLast night,â Max said. âShe got to the hotel and found out Charles and Arthur hadnât added her to the Ferrari room block. She had nowhere to sleep.â
Daniel stared at him. âSo what did she do?â
âShe texted me.â
âYouâre telling me she didnât even call them? She just quietly⌠what, curled up in a hallway with a travel bag and a dream?â
Max ran a hand through his hair. âI told her to come upstairs. Sheâs staying with me.â
Daniel muttered something that vaguely sounded like a threat.Â
âI meanâlook, Max, Iâve seen people be casually inconsiderate before. But this? This is Olympic-level. This is gold medal negligence.â
âShe wasnât even mad,â Max said, and the quiet in his voice was far more telling than any shout. âShe just said she didnât want to make a fuss.â
Danielâs shoulders dropped.
âJesus.â
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of it hanging between them. Max leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw set.
âI hate that sheâs used to it,â he said finally. âThe way she just⌠accepts it. Like being overlooked is normal.â
Daniel looked at him, something softer settling into his expression. âAnd youâre not gonna let that happen anymore.â
Max shook his head. âNot from me.â
Daniel nodded slowly. âGood. But I am still wondering, how the hell did you end up with Isabelle Leclerc? I watched you ghost half of Europe. I watched you emotionally flatline your way through every relationship like you were waiting for a fire drill. And now youâre with her?â
Max looked up, expression shifting from amused to something quieter. Something real. âYeah. I am.â
Daniel paused. âYouâre serious about her.â It wasnât a question.
Maxâs expression shiftedâstill calm, but quieter now. More grounded. âYeah. I am.â
Daniel sighed, shaking his head with a grin. âYou really are in deep, huh?â
Max nodded. âVery.â
There was a beat of silence.
Daniel exhaled, some of the theatrics melting away. âOkay. Okay. Thatâs good. Because sheâs too good for you.â
Max chuckled. âI know.â
âNo, like, really too good. You forget her birthday? Iâll kill you. You mess up and she cries? I will haunt you.â
Max sobered slightly. âIâm not going to hurt her.â
âI know,â Daniel said. âBut I had to say it. Itâs the law. Shovel talk protocol.â Daniel pointed at him again, this time less dramatic, more protective. âSheâs quiet. Sheâs kind. She doesnât push. That kind of girl? People forget to treat her like she matters. You donât get to be one of them.â
âI know,â Max said instantly.
âIâm serious. You hurt her? You even accidentally make her feel like sheâs less than everything? I will become your personal nightmare.â
Max nodded slowly. âFair.â
Daniel exhaled. âOkay. Good.â
Another pause.
Then: âAlso, bro. Youâre screwed when Charles finds out.â
Max cracked a faint smile. âYou think I donât know that?â
âIâm just saying,â Daniel said, standing up, âIâd start investing in body armor. And maybe bribe Fred Vasseur.â
âI already told Victoria and Sophie,â Max said. âJos knows too.â
Daniel turned mid-step. âSo everyone in your family knows, and no one in hers?â
Max just raised his hands helplessly.
Daniel whistled. âWow. Balls of steel, man.â Then, after a beat: âI still canât believe youâre the one who pulled this off.â
Max grinned. âMe either.â
Daniel narrowed his eyes. âIf you propose before Charles finds out, Iâm not helping you escape.â
***
Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen
Max:Â Are you already at the circuit?
Victoria:Â Just pulling in. Got Luka. Snacks. One million toddler wipes. Why?
Max:Â I need a favor.
Victoria:Â This sounds serious.
Max: It is. Isabelleâs here. Her brothers left without her this morning. Yesterday, they forgot to book her a room. She was alone at the hotel with nowhere to go.
Victoria:Â Youâre kidding.
Max:Â I wish I was. I found out when she texted me.
Victoria: She texted you instead of calling them?
Max:Â Said she didnât want to make a fuss.
Victoria:Â Thatâs not a fuss. Thatâs basic human decency.
Victoria: What the hell is wrong with her brothers? Did they think she just⌠didnât exist this weekend?
Max:Â I donât think they thought at all.
Max: Iâve got her staying with me, obviously. But Iâm at the car most of the day. Can youâŚÂ I donât know. Just keep an eye on her?
Victoria: Iâm already on it. Iâll find her. Luka adores her anyway.
Max:Â Thank you.Â
Victoria:Â AlsoâMax?
Max:Â Yeah?
Victoria: Youâre doing good. For her. I can tell.
Max:Â I just want her to feel safe.
Victoria: She does. Thatâs why she called you.
***
The Ferrari garage buzzed with the usual race day chaosâengineers shouting data, mechanics darting between screens and tires, media cameras hovering just out of reach.
Isabelle stood off to the side, tucked just behind a stack of spare tires. She had her accreditation lanyard looped around one wrist, arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable.
No one had said anything to her.
Not Charles. Not Arthur.
Not a single âwhere were you?â
No one had noticed she hadnât arrived with them.
Not even when she slipped through the paddock gate forty minutes late with Daniel Ricciardo, whoâd given her a cheerful wave and then glanced back at her with a concerned little frown, like he could feel her shrinking into herself.
She hadnât told them. Hadnât reminded them. It felt pathetic, like trying to make a dent in something carved from stone.
So she watched them from the background. Charles adjusting his earpiece. Arthur laughing with his race engineer. Everyone moving like she was part of the set dressingâquiet, reliable, conveniently invisible.
Her phone buzzed.Â
Victoria Verstappen:
Come to Red Bull hospitality. We have fruit, juice boxes, and a child who keeps asking where you are.
A second later:
Victoria Verstappen:
He refuses to eat his banana unless youâre here. Help me.
Isabelle smiled before she could stop herself.
She glanced back at the garageâno one looking, no one asking, no one even noticing she was thereâthen quietly turned and slipped out through the paddock gate.
The moment she stepped into Red Bullâs space, it was like the air changed. Quieter. Calmer. The edges softened.
And thenâ
âBelle!â
Luka barreled into her legs like a small, over-caffeinated torpedo, throwing his arms around her knees and looking up with wide, expectant eyes. His curls were slightly flattened from his bucket hat, and his juice box was clutched precariously in one hand.
 âI saved you a banana,â he said solemnly.Â
Isabelle crouched down, her heart tightening. âYou did?â
He nodded. âMum said I had to eat fruit, but I said ânoâ until you came.â
Behind him, Victoria appeared, holding a mostly squished banana and a tired smile.
âYouâre now officially the only person Luka will eat produce for. Congratulations,â she said, handing Isabelle the banana.Â
Isabelle stood and hugged her.  âYou okay?â Victoria asked gently.
Isabelle hesitated. âIâm fine.â
Victoria just arched a brow.
âI meanâIâm okay,â Isabelle corrected. âA little tired. Itâs been a weird weekend.â
âYou donât have to explain,â Victoria said. âMax already told me everything.â
Isabelle winced. âOf course he did.â
âDonât worry. He asked me to keep an eye on you. Very seriously. Like I was being recruited for a mission.â
Isabelle blinked. âHe what?â
Victoria shrugged. âYouâre important to him. Of course heâs worried.â
Luka tugged on Isabelleâs sleeve. âWanna draw race cars?â
âI would love to draw race cars,â she said, letting him take her hand.
Victoria reached for a juice pouch and smiled softly at her over Lukaâs curls. âCome sit with us. Eat something. You donât have to go back to that garage today. No one there deserves your company.â
And Isabelleâstill tired, still aching in that quiet, unseen wayâfollowed.
Because it wasnât loud.
It wasnât flashy.
But it felt like home.
***
Victoria had known Isabelle Leclerc for years without really knowing her.
A couple of polite nods in paddocks. One or two mutual âHappy Birthdayâ comments under photos. That sort of F1-adjacent proximity that meant you were vaguely aware of someoneâs life through a filtered lens of curated smiles and race weekend lighting.
And then her brother had fallen in love with her.Â
And that had changed everything.Â
Somewhere between a soft photo of Lio holding a wooden toy horse and Isabelle quietly liking every story Victoria posted about motherhood, something shifted.
Their friendship had started in Instagram DMs and lessons of dutch.Â
And now, sitting on the plush couch in the Red Bull family lounge, Victoria watched Isabelle cradle Luka like sheâd been made for it.
He was wrapped around her torso like a baby monkey, eyes already drifting shut, his small hand clinging to the neckline of her cardigan. Isabelleâs hand was in his hair, gently combing through the curls with practiced ease.
Victoriaâs heart clenched.
Max had chosen well.
Not because Isabelle was sweet (though she was), or thoughtful (painfully so), or talented (clearly), but because Max had never once let anyone in like this.
He had flings. Flirtations. A relationship or two that never made it past the media glare.
But this?
Isabelle, sitting cross-legged at a coloring table, nodding patiently as Luka explained crayon colours with the enthusiasm of a sugar-high professor?
This was different.
This was real.
And when Max had texted her that morning âCan you keep an eye on her?âVictoria hadnât even blinked.
Because she knew.
He wasnât asking out of obligation.
He was asking because Isabelle mattered. Because she was his person. Because her quiet pain had become his problem to carry, and Max Verstappen had never once backed down from something he gave a damn about.
Victoria watched Isabelle gently brush Lukaâs hair out of his eyes as he leaned too close to the table, crayon smearing on his elbow, and something in her chest ached.
Because sheâd also seen the way Isabelleâs brothers looked past her. The way they forgot her. The way she was a fixtureânot a presence. Easy to love from a distance, easier still to forget when something shinier demanded attention.
It made her furious.
It made her want to storm the Ferrari garage and shake Charles and Arthur like snow globes until they remembered who the hell their sister was.
Because if a three-year-old could recognize her worth after one afternoon, what excuse did they have?
Victoria was still fuming quietly when the door to hospitality openedâand Max stepped out onto the terrace.
He spotted them instantly. His shoulders dropped just a little. Not with weariness, but relief.
He crossed the room toward them, his steps sure and unhurried.
And when Isabelle looked up and lit upânot with surprise, not with hesitation, but that soft, unmistakable joy that came from knowing someone was hersâVictoria exhaled.
Max reached them, crouched beside Luka first.
âHey, little man,â he said, ruffling his hair.
âMax!â Luka beamed. âWe made cars!â
âVery impressive,â Max said, scanning the drawings. âYours definitely wins in the flame department.â
Then he looked at Isabelle.
Their eyes met.
No one said anything for a beat. They didnât need to.
Max touched her wrist gently. âYou okay?â
She nodded. âBetter now.â
And Victoriaâwhoâd seen every version of her brother: stormy, closed-off, sharp-edged and impossibleâwatched as his whole expression softened into something rare.
Something like peace.
She smiled to herself, sipping her drink again.
About time.
Max hadnât just fallen in love with her.
Heâd gotten it right.
***
Meanwhile on Twitter:
@/F1Sleuth: GUYS. I was at Zandvoort today and I just saw Victoria Verstappen and Isabelle Leclerc talking in the paddock like theyâre actual best friends??? Since when???
âł@/GridGossip: Youâre lying.
âł@/TifosiNation: They follow each other on Instagram now, so maybe itâs not that surprising???
âł@/RedBullRumors: But likeâŚÂ why do they know each other that well?
âł@/PaddockSpy: Do you have PICTURES?
@/F1Sleuth: I couldnât get a clear photo, but I swear to god Victoriaâs little boy was obsessed with Isabelle. Like, full-on clinging to her, as they were sitting in Red Bull hospitality. This was NOT a casual âoh we kind of know each otherâ interaction.
âł@/PitLanePrincess: Excuse me?????
âł@/TifosiForever: I guess it makes sense? Isabelle was around during karting when Max and Charles were kids, so maybe she and Victoria knew each other back then?
âł@/RBfan44: Imagine if Charles and Max are rivals but their sisters became best friends instead lmao
âł@/PaddockGossip: Omg thatâs adorable đĽš
@/F1GossipQueen: Maybe they just reconnected? Like old karting friends finding each other again.
âł@/RBUpdates: This is actually really cute, imagine the Verstappens and Leclercs becoming one big happy F1 family.
âł@/TifosiFan99: Charles and Max being forced into friendship because their sisters are besties is something I NEED to happen.
@/F1Sleuth: OKAY UPDATE. Max Verstappen just showed up and walked straight to Isabelle and Victoria. No hesitation. Like, he was SUPPOSED to be there.
âł@/RedBullInsider: Oh??? Oh. OH.
âł@/GridGossip: Why does this feel like a soft launch but also not at the same time???
âł@/RBfan44: I swear if Max and Isabelle are secretly besties, Iâm going to lose my mind.
âł@/PitLanePrincess: Besties or⌠đ
âł@/PaddockRumors: Max looked so comfortable. Like this isnât a one-time thing. Isabelle smiled at him like she was expecting him to show up.
@/F1Sleuth: MAX TOOK VICTORIAâS BABY FROM ISABELLE LIKE IT WAS THE MOST NORMAL THING IN THE WORLD. Theyâre just sitting there, talking, while heâs holding his nephew??? I donât know whatâs happening but I need ANSWERS.
âłÂ @/PaddockGossip: Iâm sorry but Max holding a toddler while casually talking to Isabelle Leclerc?? Thatâs suspicious. Thatâs weird.
âł@/RBUpdates: Someone check on Charles because wtf is going on
âł@/F1Conspiracies: I feel like weâre witnessing something weâre not supposed to know about yet.
âł@/RedBullNation: Okay but imagine if theyâre just actual close friends and weâre all being insane for no reason.
âł@/GridGossip: But what if weâre not? đ
@/PaddockInsider: Charles has no idea whatâs happening because heâs STILL doing media. Meanwhile, his sister is chilling with Victoria and Max like this is a normal Sunday.
âł@/TifosiFan99: Charles is going to come back and be so confused lmao
âł@/F1DramaLover: Imagine him seeing Max holding a baby next to Isabelle. Heâd actually short-circuit.
âł@/PitLanePrincess: Someone record his reaction PLEASE.
@/F1Sleuth: Max just leaned over and said something to Isabelle, and she laughed. Victoria said something too, and they all looked so comfortable?? This is actually driving me insane.
âł@/PaddockGossip: What is going on.
âł@/PitLanePrincess: Isabelle, blink twice if youâre secretly a Red Bull spy.
âł@/RBUpdates: The way Max just sat down and started talking like this was totally normal⌠yeah, somethingâs up.
#max verstappen fanfiction#formula 1#max verstappen#max verstappen smau#max verstappen fic#f1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfiction#max verstappen fluff#mv1 fanfiction#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fake instagram#f1 smau#max verstappen social media au#max verstappen x reader#mv1 x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#mv1 fic#max verstappen x you#f1 grid x reader#f1 grid fanfiction
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Intern (Pt 3)- Lee Know
summary: you pull away to protect your heart, but minho is left feeling trapped in a storm of guilt and emotions he canât name, a stage collab between Stray Kids and SEVENTEEN brings new chaosâespecially when one of their members starts showing interest in you
pairing: lee know x fem!reader
genre: angst, fluff, humor
word count: 5979 words
a/n: any carats here? alsoo buckle up for some love triangle drama đ
Intern Series: Part One Part Two Part Four
~°~



The air in the game room was still heavy when Hyunjin barged in.
Four pairs of eyes turned toward himâChanâs brows furrowed instantly, as if he already knew. Changbin was mid-sip of beer. Seungmin was quiet, almost tense. And Minho⌠Minho stood there with the pool cue still in his hand, his mouth drawn into a thin line.
âWhat did you say to her?â Hyunjin asked, voice low and sharp.
Minho blinked. âWhat?â
âYou said something,â Hyunjin pressed. âShe looked like someone kicked her heart in. What the hell did you say to her?â
Minhoâs jaw clenched.
âI didnât say anything to her.â
Chan set his drink down with a soft clink, sensing where this was going. âHyunjin,â he said carefully, âletâs not do this hereââ
âNo,â Hyunjin cut in, eyes never leaving Minho. âNot until he tells me what he said.â
Seungmin shifted uncomfortably, looking away. Changbin opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. Nobody wanted to be the one to say it out loud.
Minhoâs lips parted like he was searching for the right words. âShe overheard something that wasnât meant for her.â
âSo youâre saying itâs her fault?â Hyunjin snapped. âTell me what she heard. Now.â
A beat passed. Then another.
Minho looked away.
âI wasnât trying to hurt her,â he muttered. âShe wasnât supposed to hear that.â
Hyunjinâs laugh was short and humorless. âSo you did say something.â
Chan stepped in fast. âOkay. Enough. Letâs calm down, we will talk about this later.â
But Hyunjin ignored him, stepping closer. âShe adores you, you know that? She goes out of her way for you. Always.â
âI didnât ask for her feelings,â Minho said defensively.
âNo, but you let them grow.â Hyunjinâs voice had dropped to a near-whisper now. âYou let her believe there was something there. You let her get close just to push her away.â
Chan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. âThis isnât helping anyone right now.â
âShe didnât even cry in front of me,â Hyunjin said suddenly. His voice was softer now, haunted almost. âShe just said she wanted to be alone. You know how rare that is for her?â
Minho swallowed hard.
âShe always shows up,â Hyunjin continued. âAlways. With a smile. Even when sheâs exhausted. Even when sheâs hurting. Sheâs the sunshine in every room, and tonight she left looking like itâd been drained out of her.â
Minho didnât respond.
Chan rested a hand on Hyunjinâs shoulder. âCome on. Let it go for tonight.â
Hyunjin glanced at Chan, then at Changbin and Seungminâboth of whom looked like they wanted to disappear.
And finally, his eyes returned to Minho.
He didnât say another word.
He just walked out.
*******************
Your apartment was too quiet.
Youâd kicked your shoes off at the door and sunk into the couch still fully dressed. The light from the hallway crept in, soft and golden, but nothing about it felt warm.
You stared at the ceiling, trying to let the silence soothe you, but your brain wouldnât stop.
âSheâs always laughing too loudâŚâ
ââŚhovering around meâŚâ
ââŚI just want peaceâŚâ
You curled your fingers into the blanket draped across your lap.
It wasnât like you hadnât thought about it before. The possibility that maybe you were imagining it all. That maybe the lingering glances and the rare, softened smiles were just crumbs youâd blown into meaning more than they ever were.
Maybe youâd been reading too much into his quiet presence, mistaking silence for something intimate.Â
How foolish youâd been to think someone like himâthe rockstar who had the world in his palms, effortlessly charming and adored by so manyâwould ever fall for someone like you. A normal intern, just trying to make a name for herself, trying to set her career in motion while she scrambled for every opportunity. You werenât special enough to be his.
You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. Maybe you had made up a story in your head about the way he looked at you. Maybe the moments you thought were quiet confessionals were just him being kind. Maybe it was your heart that had been too eager, too hopeful. You shouldâve known better than to read between the lines. You shouldâve known better than to think there was more.Â
It was stupid, really. To even consider that someone like Minho could see you the way youâd been hoping for. You sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation settling deep in your chest.
It was time to move on. To forget the version of him you had created in your mind. You were grateful that at least you had the next two days off.
You needed space.
From him. From the boys. From everything.
Your phone buzzed softly beside you, its screen lighting up in the dim room. You didnât reach for it. It buzzed again and again. Without meaning to, your gaze flicked toward the phone.
The lock screen was cluttered now with text notifications from Chan and Hyunjin. You didnât need to open them to know what they said. But you didnât feel like replying.
Not tonight.
You turned your phone face-down on the table, the light vanishing like a curtain being drawn shut.
The silence settled in again.
*******************
You returned to work two days later, a little more composed on the outside, a little more cracked on the inside.
The building felt the sameâsame coffee smell lingering in the halls, same distant hum of voices echoing from practice rooms. But to you, everything felt different. Colder. Sharper.
You greeted staff with soft smiles and polite nods. When you walked into the practice room where the boys were gathered for schedule rundown, you could feel Minhoâs eyes flick toward you immediately. But you didnât meet them. You didnât even pause.
Just a quiet, âMorning,â to the room, and then straight to your spot beside the manager.
Hyunjin narrowed his eyes from across the room. He didnât say anything at first, just kept glancing between you and Minho, like he was trying to read something in the silence.
âY/N!â Chan greeted first, his voice warm, eyes scanning your face a little too carefully.
You smiled politely. âHey. Sorry I was just relaxing in the break, couldnât text you.â
âNo worries at all,â he said. âGlad youâre back.â
Felix offered you a hug almost immediately. âYou okay?â
You nodded. âYeah. Just needed some time.â
He didnât push. Neither did Changbin, who shot you a reassuring look from the mirror as your mentor briefed everyone on todayâs plan. Han, however, was silent â his eyes never left your face.
You stayed focused on your clipboard, scribbling notes, pretending your heart wasnât thudding painfully in your chest when Minho laughed at something Chan said. You didnât look at him. Not once. Not even when he cleared his throat like he wanted to say somethingâsomething directed at you.
You caught sight of him again later that day as you stepped into the main practice room.
He was sitting by the far wall, hoodie sleeves pushed up, fingers tapping absently on his thigh like he was waiting for time to pass. You expected him to ignore you completely.
But he looked up.
And for a split second, your eyes met and you saw something passed through his gaze. Guilt? Relief? You didnât know. You didnât care to find out.
You turned away before he could speak.
You stayed locked in your bubble. Quiet. Unbothered. Untouchable.
At least on the outside.
But you felt it, the way his eyes followed you across the room. The pause in his step when you were talking to Seungmin.
*******************
The tension built slowly, stretching over the hours like an invisible thread. You could feel Hyunjin watching you more than usual, hovering closer, lingering a beat longer than necessary whenever he passed by.
It all came to a head during a quick break in the hallway. You were jotting notes beside the vending machine when Hyunjin slipped beside you and muttered lowly, âWhy are you avoiding him?â
You stiffened.
âHyunjinâŚâ
âYou didnât do anything wrong,â he cut in, voice firmer now, eyes flickering with restrained frustration. âI heard what happened. I heard what he said. And now youâre walking around like youâre the one who needs to apologize?â
You glanced around nervously. The hallway was empty, but walls here always had ears.
âPlease,â you said quietly, tugging him by the sleeve into the empty prop room beside the hallway. âJust listen for a second.â
He crossed his arms, lips pressed into a line.
You swallowed hard. âI crossed a boundary. I did. I assumed things that werenât there. I was too loud, too much. I read into glances and made up something in my head. Thatâs on me.â
Hyunjin started to shake his head, but you raised a hand, stopping him gently.
âI justâŚâ You looked away, ashamed. âI donât want my mistakeâmy stupidityâto mess up your friendship with him. Please donât let it. He doesnât deserve that.â
âY/Nââ
âNo, really. Itâs okay,â you whispered, eyes glossy now, but your voice steady. âIâll be okay.â
He stared at you for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.
âYouâre not stupid,â he said finally, softly. âYouâre just someone who cared.â
You gave him a sad smile. âStill feels stupid.â
*******************
Meanwhile, Minho was going through a range of emotions.
At first, it felt like relief.
You werenât laughing around him. You werenât hovering in the corners of rooms he was in. You werenât looking at him like he was the sun and the stars and the whole damn sky.
At first, it felt like peace.
But then⌠it didnât.
It felt like quiet in all the wrong ways.
He started catching himself glancing up, expecting to find you already lookingâonly to find your gaze elsewhere. Or worse, nowhere near him at all.
He noticed how your usual energyâthe way you brightened the room even when you werenât tryingâhad dulled. How you laughed with the other staff, but never like before. How you moved around him like he wasnât even there.
It didnât feel like peace. It felt like absence.
He tried to remind himself this was what he wanted. No more hovering. No more warmth. Just peace.Â
But somewhere around day three of your silence, Minho realized, that the thing he thought he wantedâthe distance, the quiet, the âpeaceââfelt a hell of a lot like regret. It felt like missing someone who was sitting six feet away.
*******************
You were bent over a mannequin, hands steady as you carefully pinned lace detailing along the hem of Jeonginâs blazer. It was for an upcoming shootâclassic, structured, and clean with delicate pearl accents and subtle embroidery near the lapels.
The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the iron steamer behind you and the occasional buzz of messages from someoneâs forgotten phone.
Han entered the room and sat down quietly on the low bench near you, elbows on his knees, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh.
At first, he didnât speak.
He just watched.
Watched the way your fingers moved with careful precision as you sewed the last pearl into place. Watched the way you paused to make sure the symmetry was perfect before nodding to yourself, reaching for a steamer cloth like you were trying to keep your mind on anything but the tension that had followed you into every room lately.
âYou okay?â he asked softly.
You glanced at him. âYeah. Just tired.â
âYouâve been tired for four days.â
You looked down at the brush in your hand.
Han exhaled, voice lowering. âI heard what happened. At the party.â
You paused.
He continued. âI just⌠I wanted to say Iâm sorry. Even though heâs my best friendâthat was no way to talk about you. Or treat you.â
Your fingers trembled slightly as you capped the compact. You nodded once. âThanks.â
âIâm not gonna defend him. I know heâs being stupid,â Han added. âI just wanted you to hear it from me, too. You didnât deserve that.â
You smiled a little, but it didnât reach your eyes. âI appreciate it, Jisung.â
He gave your arm a gentle squeeze before standing up. âI wonât push. Just⌠if you ever need someone to vent to, Iâm around.â
And with that, he was gone.
But your heart was a little less heavy.
*******************
The days passed differently. You didnât joke with Han while fixing his collar. You didnât poke Hyunjinâs side when he yawned. You didnât glance at Minho when you walked past him.
You were strictly professional. Straight-backed. Eyes on task.
And everyone noticed.
Hyunjin pulled you aside once, in the hallway near the breakroom.
âYouâre not⌠yourself,â he said gently.
âIâm just working,â you replied. âIsnât that what Iâm here to do?â
He frowned but let you go.
Inside the practice room, Minho found himself fidgeting.
He kept stealing glances â wondering why the room suddenly felt too still, why his hoodie felt too warm, why he missed the sound of your laughter and the dumb jokes you used to throw his way.
âDude,â Han muttered, nudging him. âYouâve been staring at her for the last ten minutes. You good?â
Minho blinked, realizing he had been staring â watching as you pinned a tag to a jacket and adjusted the neckline with those same gentle fingers that used to tug on his sleeve just to annoy him.
He looked away.
You stopped showing up to group dinners. Stopped responding to memes in the shared chat. When Hyunjin texted about game night, you replied two hours later with a soft âSorry, not tonight.â
You were polite. Kind, even. But cold.
There was no more lingering in doorways. No more snacks you left behind for the staff after long nights. You clocked in, did your job perfectly, and disappeared before anyone could ask if you were okay.
Guilt was eating away Minho, it was all his fault. He hated how quiet you were now. How you moved around the room like a stranger wearing the same face. How you didnât flinch when he brushed past you anymore. How your smileâonce warm and open and full of lightâwas now a carefully measured line that never reached your eyes.
He noticed every single time you declined an invite.
And what he hated most⌠was that you meant it.
You werenât pretending to be busy. You werenât waiting for him to chase after you. Youâd really let go. And it was driving him insane. But he didnât understand whyâŚ
This is what he wanted, right?
Silence. Space. Distance.
This was exactly what heâd been hoping for, wasnât it?
Then why did it feel like he couldnât breathe?
*******************
The collaborative stage between Stray Kids and Seventeen was announced with massive buzz. Special unit stages. Joint dance breaks. Concept photos. Interviews. Fans were eating it up before rehearsals even began.
You were roped in to help with styling for the final shoot and early rehearsals. It wasnât your usual team, but your mentor had vouched for you personallyâsaid you had the right eye, the right attention to detail.
And thatâs when you met Kim Mingyu.
Tall, charming, all radiant smiles and easy laughter. Heâd walked into the fitting room in an oversized hoodie and black sweats, hair pushed back with a clip, and shot you a grin that nearly made you forget your own name.
âHey,â he said, offering his hand. âYouâre Y/N, right? Iâve heard about you.â
You blinked. âFromâŚ?â
âScoups, my team leader,â he said casually. âSays youâre terrifying when youâre in focus mode. He saw you during the initial discussion with the manager and Bang Chan.â
You huffed a laugh despite yourself. âIâm not terrifying.â
âI dunno,â he teased, eyeing the tiny pin cushion on your wrist. âIâve seen those weapons before.â
You smirked, setting your clipboard down. âYouâre not scared of a few needles, are you?â
Mingyu leaned in slightly, grin widening. âIâm scared of a lot of things. Youâre just not one of them.â
And Minho walked in right then. Minho paused at the doorway.
Your back was to him. Mingyu was leaning in closeâtoo close. You were laughing, that soft, genuine kind of laugh Minho hadnât heard from you in weeks.
It made something in his chest crack.
The air around him changed. He walked into the room with a little too much presence, like he was daring someone to look at him. Mingyu glanced over, eyebrows lifting in recognition.
âOh, hey,â Mingyu greeted. âLee Know, right?â
âMinho,â he corrected coolly.
You didnât turn around. Didnât acknowledge him. Your attention on Mingyu.
Minho clenched his jaw. âY/N.â
You looked up briefly. Nodded. âMinho.â
No smile. No warmth. You treated him like a client. And it drove him insane.
*******************
It started with little things.
Minho would linger after everyone left the room, clearly waiting for you to say somethingâanythingâbut you'd just continue folding jackets or updating the fitting sheet without sparing him a glance.
âDid you steam this?â he asked one day, pointing at a dark gray blazer.
âYes,â you replied flatly.
He waited and waited. You didnât elaborate or smile. Didnât compliment how it matched his earrings. Just kept working.
ââŚOkay,â he muttered and walked away.
The days started blendingâshows, schedules, fittingsâbut Minho couldnât stop noticing how different you were.
You gradually started laughing with the others like before. You high-fived Jisung when he nailed a dance move. You giggled when Felix made finger hearts at you. You leaned comfortably into Chanâs side when he asked for your opinion on the new teaser photos.
But with Minho?
Nothing.
No smile. No sass. No eye contact longer than two seconds.
He was upset and everyone saw it.
âHyung, you good?â Seungmin asked one day while they were stretching before rehearsal.
âFine.â
âYou were staring at Y/N again.â
âI wasnât.â
âSure.â
Minhoâs jaw clenched. âSheâs acting weird.â
âNo, sheâs acting normal. Youâre the one acting weird,â Seungmin said, chuckling. âYouâre twitchier than Han after two Red Bulls.â
âI just⌠donât like being ignored.â
âOhhh, right. Because she used to flirt with you and now she doesnât.â
Minho glared. âShut up.â
âShe liked you a lot, yâknow? But sheâs not gonna chase someone who called her annoying.â
Minho didnât answer.
But it echoed in his head the rest of the night.
She liked you. You called her annoying.
God.
He was such a jerk.
The next few days, he tried. He really tried.
You were fixing Hyunjinâs cuff when Minho stepped into the room, in a clean white tee and perfectly ripped jeans.
âMorning,â he said, voice carefully casual.
You nodded once. âGood morning.â
That was it.
He cleared his throat. âNice shirt,â he offered.
âItâs yours,â you deadpanned.
Hyunjin snorted. Minho flushed and sat down without another word.
Later that day, he tried again.
You were rearranging accessories when he walked over, holding a ring in his palm.
âThis one or the black one?â he asked.
You glanced briefly. âBlack.â
âThat fast? Not even gonna try it on me?â
âNo need.â
Minho frowned. âYou used to be more fun, you know.â
You paused, finally looking at him. âYou used to be nicer.â
Then you walked away. He blinked, stunned. Was that... a comeback? He smiled to himself. There she is.
*******************
The rehearsals were loud with energy when Seventeen arrived at JYP building again.
Mingyu approached you, âHey Y/N, how are you doing?â
You blinked. "Iâmâuh, Iâm good. Thank you."
He tilted his head, voice lighter now. "Youâve been quiet. Not that Iâve known you long, but I remember you teasing Dino over his sleeve length last time. I figured you werenât the shy type."
You gave him a small, polite smile. "Just focused on work today."
"Ahh," he said, not pushing further. But his gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary. "Still... itâs good to see you again."
You nodded, eyes flicking briefly toward the mirror wall across the room.
Minho was watching with his jaws clenched. His gaze shifted away before you could fully catch his expression.
Later that day during dance practice, Minho caught you laughing from the sidelines. Mingyu had just tripped during a spin and recovered with a dramatic pose like it was part of the choreography.
Your laugh echoed across the roomâbright and genuine. Minhoâs stomach flipped. You looked happy. Just not with him. He caught Hyunjinâs eye from across the mirrors. The younger boy raised a brow and mouthed: âRegret it yet?â
Minho rolled his eyes.Â
Yes.
Yes, he did.
More than anything.
By the time they wrapped practice, most of the members had filtered out. You stayed behind to pack some things, double-checking wardrobe pieces for tomorrowâs shoot.
Minho lingered again.
âSo⌠are you avoiding me?â he asked suddenly.
You didnât look up. âNo.â
âYouâre just⌠treating me like Iâm invisible.â
âIâm treating you like a colleague,â you corrected. âThatâs what I shouldâve done from the beginning.â
Ouch.
âI didnât mean what I said that night,â he muttered.
You finally turned to him, expression unreadable. âYou said it. Whether you meant it or not doesnât change the fact that I heard it.â
âIââ
âLook, Minho. I liked you, okay?â you said quietly, firm. âI thought we had⌠something. Even if it was silly. I flirted. You let me. So I assumed you didnât hate it. But hearing you say you found it annoying?â Your voice cracked slightly. âThat sucked.â
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
You didnât wait for him to find words.
âIâm not mad anymore. Itâs fine, letâs keep it professional.â
Then you turned and walked away again. Minho let out a frustrated sigh, what had he done?
*******************
You had only meant to be polite. A little distant, maybe. Careful. But apparently, Mingyu saw a challengeâand he accepted it with full confidence and charm.
From the next day on, it was like he had a radar for when you entered a room.
âHey, Y/N.â
You barely stepped into the practice hall before his voice greeted you. âWant help carrying that?â He was already reaching for the clothing rack like it weighed more than your emotional baggage (it didnât).
âOh, itâs okay, Iâve got itââ
âNah, I insist,â he said with a grin that made the staff nearby swoon. âWouldnât be very gentlemanly if I just stood here looking pretty, right?â
You blinked. âThat⌠would depend on your definition of pretty.â
He laughed, a low, surprised chuckle. âOof. Are you always this dangerous?â
âOnly when I havenât had coffee,â you said dryly.
And it was that simple.
He was hooked.
He started showing up earlier to rehearsals. Always near your station. Sometimes he brought extra drinksââThought you might like iced vanilla lattes?ââother times, just conversation. Heâd rest his elbow on the rack while you adjusted stage outfits, asking about your favorite color palettes and whether you preferred oversized fits or structured jackets.
And the worst part?
He was easy to talk to.
Too easy.
The more he spoke to you, the more you forgot about how cold Minho had made you feel. Mingyu didnât make you feel annoying. He didnât make you second guess every word or glance or laugh. He listened. He noticed thingsâlike how you always kept hair ties on your wrist and hated velvet textures.
But you didnât flirt back. Youâd smile. Laugh sometimes. Keep the conversation going. But your heart hadnât caught up. Not yet. It was still tangled in a pair of grumpy eyes and cruel words you couldnât forget.
Across the room, Minho saw it all.
He watched you laughâreally laughâwith someone else. Someone handsome and charismatic and clearly smitten with you. He hated how familiar that expression was on your face. He hated that it wasnât directed at him.
He knew he had no right to feel this way.
He was the one who pushed you away. Said those things. Let you walk out of that party with tears in your eyes and didnât even run after you.
And yetâŚ
He found himself glancing up more often when you passed by. Making comments just to hear your voice. Standing a little closer when you werenât looking.
You didnât notice. Or maybe you didâand just didnât care.
But when Mingyu asked if you wanted to grab a bite after rehearsal one night, and you actually pausedâjust for a secondâMinho felt something snap.
He turned on his heel and left the room before he could hear your answer.
You looked up from your clipboard, caught off-guard for a second from Mingyuâs question.
Mingyu was smiling againâbright, hopeful, that usual confident glint in his eyes. He didnât even try to be subtle anymore. He liked you. Everyone knew it.
You hesitated. Just for a second. And then shook your head, politely. âIâm heading home after this. Long day.â
A beat passed. Disappointment flickered across his featuresâquickly replaced by an easy grin. âNext time, then.â
You offered a smile. Soft. But firm. âMaybe.â
Mingyu nodded, but you knew he caught the undertone. You werenât ready. Not yet. Not when Minhoâs voice still echoed in your mind like a bruise that refused to fade: She flirts with everyone⌠itâs annoying.
Even if Mingyu was kind. Even if he made you laugh. You werenât ready to hand your heart out again. Especially not when someone else had crushed it with a few carelessly thrown words.
*******************
The rooftop of the JYP building was always a strange kind of refuge. Noisy during the day with deliveries and the occasional staff meeting, but quiet at nightâjust high enough above the city that it felt like a pause button on reality.
Han had found himself up there more than once. When deadlines loomed. When promotions felt like too much. When the ache of exhaustion pressed too hard on his shoulders.
But tonight⌠he wasnât alone.
He spotted Minho by the railing, his back turned to the door, head bowed. The wind tousled his hair gently, and the city lights lit up the side of his face in cold, distant hues.
âHyung?â Han stepped closer.
Minho didnât turn, didnât even flinch. Han slowed as he realised something was off.
He caught the faint shake of Minhoâs shoulders. The way his jaw was clenched too tightly. The way he blinkedâonce, twice, too fastâand then pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes like he could erase the tears before they fully formed.
âHyungâŚâ
Minho exhaled. Sharp. Fragile.
âIâm fine.â
Han frowned. âYou always say that when youâre clearly not.â
Still no response.
Han moved beside him, not too closeâjust enough to share the quiet. He looked out at the skyline for a moment before saying softly, âShe said no.â
Minhoâs fingers curled around the railing.
âI heard,â Han added. âMingyu asked her. You didnât even wait to listen.â
Minho shut his eyes. The words felt heavy in his throat. âShe paused.â
âYeah. For one second. And you left like it killed you.â
Minho let out a bitter laugh. One that cracked halfway through. âBecause it did.â
That startled Han into silence.
Minho finally turned, his eyes red-rimmed, lower lip trembling despite his usual calm exterior. âI donât even know why I said all that stuff about her. I didnât mean it. Not a single word.â
âThen whyâd you say it?â
âBecauseâŚâ Minho shook his head, fingers gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles went white. âBecause she makes me feel things Iâm not supposed to feel. Things I donât know how to deal with. And the closer she got, the more I panicked. So I pushed her away. I had to. I was also growing jealous, I think? Of her bonding with Hyunjin.â
Han stared at him, then blinkedâonce, twiceâbefore exhaling. âHyung⌠with all due respect, youâre such a pabo. Hyunjin and her are completely platonic.â
Minho let out a soft, broken sigh. âI realize that now.â
Han raised a brow. âYou were in love with her, hyung. I knew it from the heart eyes you used to give her every time she walked into the room.â
Minho looked away, almost embarrassed.
Han continued with a small scoff, âI even tried playing cupid, but you were so nonchalant I thought maybe I was wrong.â
Minho gave a humorless chuckle, still blinking back tears. âI was too stubborn to admit it before⌠but this distance, her ignoring meâGod, itâs been killing me. And it made me realize I fell for her from the start. I just didnât know it then. Or maybe I did, and I was too much of a coward to face it.â
âAnd now Kim Mingyuâs trying to pull her in,â Han sighed looking up at the sky.
Minho flinched.
Han didnât smile. He didnât joke like usual. His voice was calm, steady. âDo you want her to be happy?â
âYes,â Minho whispered immediately.
âThen you need to fix this, hyung. Because right now, all she remembers is the version of you that called her annoying.â
Silence again.
Minho nodded onceâslowly, like the decision cost him something.
Han gave him a small pat on the back before turning to leave. âIâll cover for you downstairs. Take your time.â
Minho stayed rooted there for a while longer, letting the cold wind sting his face, hoping it would hide the warmth of his tears.
It didnât.
And for the first time in a long time⌠he let himself cry.
He was ashamed for hurting you, whoâd always been kind. For making you feel like you were too much, when really, you were the best thing he took for granted.
*******************
It was finally the end of the week, and all you could think about was the long, luxurious everything-shower waiting for you at home. You stepped into the elevator, letting out a quiet sigh as the doors began to slide shut.
Just then, a hand slipped between the narrowing gap, stopping them mid-close.
Your heart dipped the second you saw who it was.
Lee Minho stepped in quietly, not even glancing your way at first. The doors slid shut behind him with a soft ding, sealing the two of you in that small, silent space. You could hear the soft hum of the elevator mechanics, the faint buzz of a fluorescent light above.
He stood beside youâstraightened, composed, but the silence was nothing like the ones before. This time, it wasnât cold. It was unsure. Hesitant.
You shifted your weight, pretending to check your phone, anything to avoid the ache that formed in your chest just from being this close again.
One floor passed. Two.
The tension was suffocating.
Threeâ
CLUNK.
You jolted when the elevator lurched to a sudden stop. Your hand shot out to grab the railing, and you turned to him, wide-eyed. Heâd hit the emergency button.
âMinhoââ you began.
âDonât leave yet,â he said quickly, voice tight. âJustâlisten. Please.â
You were stunned into silence.
âY/N,â he started, looking at you with softness. Not cold. Not harsh. Just... tired. And honest.
âI was wrong,â he said. âAbout everything.â
You blinked.
âIâm sorry,â he said suddenly. âI never meant to hurt you. I didnât evenââ he stopped, running a hand through his hair. âI didnât realize what I was saying until it was too late. I was⌠frustrated. With myself. With how I felt. And I projected that onto you.â
You turned to face him now, fully, slowly.
He looked tired. And not just from rehearsals or schedules. Tired from guilt.
Your voice came out low, careful, âThereâs nothing to apologize for.â
His brows furrowed. âY/Nââ
âI crossed a line,â you said, swallowing. âI was the one who confused things. I made you uncomfortable and I kept hovering andââ
âNo,â he cut in quietly. âYou didnât.â
âYou said I did.â
âI was scared.â
That stilled you.
âI was scared because the way you made me feel didnât make sense,â he continued. âAnd instead of dealing with it, I blamed you for making me feel it in the first place.â
You looked away. âYou said you wanted peace.â
âI thought thatâs what I needed. But the silence after you left? It didnât feel peaceful. It felt empty.â
You let out a shaky breath, one that felt like it had been trapped in your chest for days.
You stepped forward, your fingers brushing the panel as you desperately tried to cancel it so the elevator would start moving again. But before you could press the button, his hand reached out, catching your wrist. Gently. Not to stop you, just to ask you to stay.
âPlease donât do that,â he said, voice barely above a whisper. âDonât leave. Please donât punish me.â
You froze.
âYou think Iâm punishing you?â you asked, voice cracking slightly, âYou wanted the distance!â
âI didnât mean it like that,â he said again, eyes searching yours. âI didnât mean it to come out like I didnât care. I was overwhelmed. And I said the wrong thing to the wrong person.â
You blinked hard. âYou still said it.â
He winced. âI know.â
You pulled your hand from his, slowly.
âIâm just protecting my own peace now,â you said gently. âThatâs all.â
Minho looked at you like the words hurt more than silence ever could.
Neither of you moved for a while. Then Minho spokeâquieter this time, like he didnât want to scare off whatever fragile truce youâd allowed between you.
âCan we start over?â he asked. âJust⌠as friends.â
You looked at him, eyes tired, wary. He was watching you like the answer might shatter him. Your heart thudded.
You wanted to ask why now. Why after all the space. Why after the silence. Your guard stayed up. You crossed your arms lightly, leaning back against the elevator wall.
âI donât know if I can go back to how things were,â you said truthfully.
âIâm not asking for that,â he said quickly. âI just⌠I miss talking to you. I miss your laugh. I miss you. Even if itâs just as a friend.â
You studied him for a long momentâMinho, who once stood cold and distant, now looking hesitant and real in the dim fluorescent glow. There was no arrogance in him now. No bitterness. Just a quiet kind of sincerity youâd never seen before.
You bit the inside of your cheek, then slowly nodded once.
âFriends,â you said. Cautious. Careful.
Relief bloomed across his face so fast, so unguarded, that it nearly broke your heart again.
He reached out, hesitatedâthen offered a pinky. It was so Minho. A little awkward. A little sincere. A peace offering dressed in childish promise.
You stared at it, then looped your pinky with his, sealing whatever strange, bittersweet restart this was.
And just like that, he pressed the emergency button again. The elevator jolted back to life.
As the numbers ticked downward and the air shifted, so did something between you. Not quite healed. Not quite the same. But something closer to understanding.
Minho offered you a small smile.
But inside?
He was unraveling.
Heâd asked to be your friend, even though every fiber in his body ached to pull you in, to push you gently against the elevator wall and kiss you like he shouldâve the night you told him how you felt before. But he knew he didnât deserve that right. Not after everything he said. Not after how he made you feel.
So he swallowed it downâthe longing, the regret, the need. Because if friendship was the only way to keep you in his life, then heâd take it. Even if it meant pretending the quiet way his heart raced around you was platonic. Even if it meant watching you smile at someone else someday and telling himself it didnât hurt. Heâd take it. Because losing you completely? That was never an option.
--------------
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Out of frame 2/4



Summary : Y/N and Lando Norris have been together for three years. Their relationship is real, steady, and full of quiet love but always behind the scenes. While fans know theyâre a couple, Lando has never posted about her, avoids public displays of affection, and never mentions her in interviews. At first, Y/N understood. She believed it was about privacy, about protecting what they had. But over time, being constantly left out of frame has started to hurt.
Genre : angst, SMAU
Pairing : Lando Norris x reader
Faceclaim : @suanbeiii
Main Masterlist
Series Masterlist
@landonorris đTokyo, Japan






Incredible night. Thank you to everyone who came out to support us. Big things coming đŤĄ
@_user1 he really posted all his friends but not his gf again... yikes
@_user2 is Y/N not in Japan with him? đ
@_user3 nah this is getting embarrassing at this point. she literally always supports him and he canât even tag her once??
@_user4 QUADRANT IN JAPAN LETâS GOOOOđĽ
@_user5 the helmet is SICK omg đĽ
@_user6 weird how he never has a problem posting the boys đ
@_user8 so hyped for this drop!! love seeing quadrant going global đĽ
@_user10 whereâs the queen?? yâall okay??
@_user11 y/n deserves a man who posts her like she posts him. period.
@your_username đMonaco






Girls can buy themself flowers too đ
@_user1 wait. no japan trip for y/n this time?
@_user2 somethingâs off. they never miss a race weekend together đś
@_user3 how is she real đđ Lando you better be sending her flowers too!!
@_user4 the softest prettiest queen 𩷠Lando won the lottery and acts like he forgot
@_user5 Lando⌠be fr. how do you not post HER???
@_user6 she looks like a dream. if my gf looked like this Iâd post her every 5 minutes lol
@_user7 youâre literally the prettiest person Iâve ever seen I canât even hate you Iâm obsessed đĽ˛
@_user8 i donât care whatâs going on but if he lets her go⌠we need to talk, Lando đ
@_user9 okay but where do I sign up to be your girlfriend if Landoâs slacking??
@_user10 I hope he knows what he has. because the rest of us DO.
Texts messages
Lando You didnât like the flowers I sent you?
Lando Seriously, Y/N? That post? What is that supposed to mean?
Y/N It means exactly what it says.
Lando So you ignore my apology and post something that makes it look like I did something wrong ?
Y/N You sent flowers. Thatâs not an apology, Lando. Itâs a gesture. A pretty one, but not what I needed.
Lando You always want more. Itâs never enough with you.
Y/N Because you donât listen. I told you how I felt and you acted like I was being dramatic. I didnât ask for a parade. Just for you to acknowledge me
Lando So you skip the race, donât say a word for days, and make me look like an idiot online?
Y/N I said I had work.
Lando No. You said âdonât worry about it.â Thatâs code for âfigure it out or Iâm gone,â right?
Y/N You want to talk about code? Because not posting me, not bringing me up, not defending me when people speculate, THATâs a message too.
Lando I thought keeping us private protected you
Y/N It doesnât feel like protection, it makes me feel like a secret
Lando This againâŚ
Y/N Yes. Again. Because you keep brushing it off like Iâm asking you to tattoo my name on your forehead
Lando You want public affection. Fine. But maybe you couldâve talked to me instead of putting it on Instagram?
Y/N I tried to talk. You shut down. You always do.
Lando Because every time I mess up, you make me feel like Iâm never enough
Y/N And every time I open up, you make me feel like I'm too much
Lando Right. Okay. Here we go.
Y/N Yeah. Here we go. Again. You donât want to make the effort? Thatâs fine. Your loss.
Lando You know thatâs not fair
Y/N Neither is loving someone who makes you feel invisible
Lando I have a race to focus on.
Y/N Enjoy it, Lando.
Lando Sure.
@F1LiveMoments đĽLive interview moment of Lando at the Japan GP
Interviewer: âWe didnât see your girlfriend this weekend, is she not in Japan with you?â Lando Norris: laughs âWhich girlfriend?â
@_user1 nah âwhich girlfriendâ is CRAZY??? like are you trying to be single or stupid đ
@_user2 he really said that on live TV⌠with a mic⌠and a camera⌠okay.
@_user3 and this is the man sheâs been flying around the world to support in silence đ
@_user4 he better deactivate, apologize and send 400 roses
@_user6 this girl has been nothing but quiet and supportive and he humiliates her like that? Iâd be GONE.
@_user7 you canât be âprivateâ and also crack jokes like that⌠pick a struggle đ
@_user8 and then men will say âwhy is she upset with meâ like sir⌠you said WHICH GIRLFRIEND
@_user9 his media training just packed its bags and left the building
@_user10 @your_username deserves BETTER. weâre all saying it.
@_user12 this manâs idea of romance is âwhich girlfriendâ I canât breathe đđđ
@your_username đMonaco


Sunday ritual đ§Ą
@_user1 she still supports him after that interview?? Iâd be EMBARRASSED
@_user2 baby you didnât see the clip, right?? pls say you didnât
@_user3 I have to respect the loyalty but girl⌠the way he said âwhich girlfriendâ like it was nothing đ¤Ą
@_user4 wait⌠WHY is she still watching him like this?? Iâm actually speechless
@_user5 this is such a sweet post but⌠after that live interview đŹ
@_user6 girl did you see the interview from yesterday đ
@your_username which interview?
@_user9 oh no oh no oh no đđđ she doesnât KNOW
@_user10 this one comment just ended their relationship for real
@_user12 NAH IM SCARED. SOMEONE TAKE HER PHONE AWAY
@_user13 Lando better call her RIGHT NOW because this is about to go so bad
Texts messages :
Y/N âWhich girlfriend?â Are you fucking serious right now?
Y/N Was that funny to you? Was humiliating me on live TV was what you needed?
Y/N You really went out there and said that like weâre nothing. Like I never existed.
Lando Y/N... Donât do this.
Y/N Donât do what, Lando? Get mad that my boyfriend made a joke like he doesnât even know me?
Lando You didnât want to come to Japan. You literally said you needed space What was I supposed to do?
Y/N NOT JOKE THAT YOU HAVE MULTIPLE GIRLFRIENDS ON LIVE TV MAYBE? Just a thought.
Lando It was sarcasm. The interviewer caught me off guard
Y/N No, what caught you off guard was the reality of being called out for once
Lando I didnât mean it like that
Y/N You never do. Thatâs the problem.
Y/N Everythingâs a joke or a deflection or a fucking PR-safe answer You don't even realize how much it hurt. You made me feel invisible
Lando You ghosted me for a week. You turned down my calls, ignored my flowers, and posted some cryptic caption like I never tried
Y/N Because sending flowers isnât trying, Lando. Itâs damage control
Y/N I was begging for real effort, for presence, for proof that I matter to you
Y/N And you know what you gave me? A joke about having multiple girlfriends ??
Lando It was a stupid moment. I panicked
Y/N God, do you even hear yourself?
Y/N You panicked and defaulted to disrespect. That says more than anything
Lando Okay well maybe if you were actually there we could have talked like normal people.
Y/N Donât flip this on me.
Y/N I didnât come because I was hurt, Lando. I needed space to breathe, not to be mocked globally
Y/N You know how hard itâs been? I kept telling myself you just needed time, that you were scared. Or shy. Or private
Y/N But maybe you were just comfortable keeping me secret, comfortable not choosing me when itâs inconvenient
Lando Thatâs not true.
Y/N Then prove it
Lando Iâm trying to...
Y/N Trying wouldâve been not letting those words leave your mouth.
Lando I messed up, okay? I didnât think. I was tired and pissed...
Y/N No. You chose the words.
Y/N Enjoy the rest of Japan. Donât worry about me.
Lando Y/NâŚ
Y/N No. Fuck you, Norris.
Taglist (closed) : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @hi26loveie, @bunnisplayground, @nina481, @reallifemermaidprincess, @cars-and-frogs, @delululeclerc, @txmhxllqnd, @lydia-demarek, @destinyg237, @rhaenyrasversion, @sarascabiosa, @readz4u, @tvdtw4ever, @mynameisangeloflife, @teti-menchon0604, @suns3treading, @op814kitty, @prettyboyroseberg, @willowsnook, @ariesandwolves, @clarksgf, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @pinklemonade34, @fat-meh, @tiaajosephin, @landosbabe4, @easy4, @jule239, @mercrussell, @skylandori, @ryuucollapse, @nickie-amore, @fairyjinn, @seonaw, @mattslovelygf, @strawberrylov-er, @linnygirl09, @dilflover44, @bell1a, @f1fantasys, @sillyfreakfanparty, @janonymus0, @taetae-armyyyyy, @charlesgirl16, @angstynasty, @jules-bea2308, @afternoonarchive, @itsbieberxholland, @rexit-mo, @chlmtfilms, @vampgege, @mochimommy2002, @budgetcupid, @lemon-stvrrr, @bell1a, @taebearyoongs, @hazzasmunchkin, @sainz0fthetimes, @didaaa4, @madelyn2000, @il0vereadingstuff, @march32nd, @chlmtfilms, @literallysza, @cheapdocmartens, @wolfstarsimpxx, @pretzelcat4-blog, @larya810, @6-noir, @urfavftoomie, @ficr3ccs, @strawberrylov-er, @wosof1, @behindmygreyeyes, @justheretoreadthxxs, @pinklemonade34, @ninass-world, @landosbabe4, @leclercdream, @raynetargaryan2,
#lando norris fic#lando norris#lando x reader#lando x you#lando norris x reader#ln4#lando fanfic#lando norris x y/n#lando x oc#lando norris x oc#lando norris x you#formula 1 x reader#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#ln4 x y/n#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 fic#mclaren f1#f1 smau#lando smau#lando norris smau#formula 1 smau#ln4 smau
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i am living for some angst đ
especially some satoru angst
Hold me. Console me.
Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of poor mental health, depiction of a panic attack, Satoruâs a little bit of an asshole here.
An: Same⌠same. Before you read this and blame me for how fucked this story is, know that one of my moots (cough. cough. @theuniversesnepobaby cough.) was sending me sad angsty edits last night. this is partially her fault too.

Satoru was normally a very doting and attentive boyfriend. Heâs the type to beg to be in your presence. Heâd kill to feel your touch against his skin. âCasualâ isnât a word in his dictionary. When he loves, he loves loudly.
So when he got quiet with his love, your body started to fill with a sense of dread. Cold and bitter feelings crawled their way between you two. No longer did you two laugh until you were out of breath and red in the face. No longer did he surprise you with gifts or try to scare you when youâre unaware of his presence.
His strong arms hadnât wrapped around you in so long. The ruthless chill of being utterly alone plagued you, while Satoru seemed fine. He was even taking on extra hours at his job. So many nights he didnât come back until nearly midnight.
How could he not see whatâs happening? How could he not notice how much youâre drowning?
âIâm going out.â His words are flat with no care put into them. Heâs telling you because he feels as if itâs obligatory â not because he doesnât want you to worry.
âWhere are you going?â So many times have you tried to reach out. It was as if you two were passing back and forth a candle of your relationship. You had ignited the flame and passed it to him so many times, but each time, he snuffs it out without a second thought â leaving you in the dark. Maybe one more time, you metaphorically light the candle in hopes to kinder your relationshipâŚ
âOut.â Flame snuffed.
âOh.â Heâs done it so many times, but it hurts just as bad each and every time. Being single wouldnât hurt this bad. At least you wouldnât be getting rejected by your own boyfriend on a daily basis.
âSee ya.â He doesnât even give you a second glance as he grabs his coat and saunters out the door. Another night spent alone. Another night filled with a barely eaten tv dinner and a shitty reality tv show droning on in the back while you doomscroll on your phone.
You two use to watch these reality tv shows together and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Satoru would hold you so close to his body, and heâd whine anytime you tried to adjust. When was the last time that happened? You never suspected the end of affectionate gestures would come while you two were still in a relationship.
You check Getoâs story on instagram. Sometimes, youâd catch small glimpses of Satoru in the back. Sometimes they were at a cafe or an arcade together. Tonight, it seemed as though Suguru was at very packed party scene.
You hold your breath in your lungs as you rewatch the story again and again â searching for a white head of hair. Your boyfriend makes it too easy for you to stalk him. Though, it feels like a fitting punishment for the turmoil heâs put you through.
No Satoru in sight. You sigh quietly before you check Shokoâs story. It was less likely that Satoru would be captured there, but he has made his appearances in the past. It seemed like tonight Shoko wasnât present at whatever rager Suguru was at. She posted a picture of her beautifully written notes. She must be studying.
Nanami never posts on his story, so you donât even bother going to check his barren profile. Haibara never features Satoru in his stories, so you skip his as well. This leaves you with one last option.
Your hand is a little shaky as you click on Utahimeâs story. You donât know when it started, but your cheeks and ears were wet with tears already. Your body had some sort of sick sixth sense for knowing when something was wrong, and something was terribly wrong.
You had always had your little insecurities about Utahime ever since Satoru indulged that he had a small crush on her back in high school. Of course, these were just fleeting thoughts. Up until recently, you knew with full confidence that you had Satoruâs heart. He wouldnât stray from you. ďżź
You didnât have that same confidence anymore. Satoru had withdrawn, and it seemed as if he took his heart with him.
You hate being right. You wish you were wrong sometimes. On Utahimeâs story, sheâs seemingly at the same party that Suguruâs at. Her story is littered with pictures of her with other girls that you donât recognize, videos of the loud music and people dancing in a crowd, and thereâs just one last video on her story that makes your heart sink to your stomach.
Your boyfriendâs pretty blue eyes illuminated by the flash from her back camera. He smiled and laughed as Utahime filmed him. His face was littered with wine red lipstick kiss marks. Utahime had a grab on your boyfriendâs collar, obviously trying to hold his drunk self still while she filmed his crime.
It felt like a punch straight to your gut. You couldnât even think straight, but you knew you needed to keep this evidence in case she deletes it. Your fingers shakily screenshot the story, logging the picture of Satoru covered in someone elseâs affections.
He was out there feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness, receiving kisses from another, dancing to his heartâs content, and enjoying his life while you were sat at home weeping over the loss of your boyfriend.
The tv dinner, now cold and stale, was thrown into the garbage, and whatever little bit you had eaten came up soon after.
The picture was seared into your memory. You didnât have to look at it to know every minor detail. The way his white hair was messy. His glasses were pulled down ever so slightly to reveal his devastatingly beautiful eyes. His coat hung on his shoulders while his muscular neck peaked out from his shirt.
Every time you closed your eyes, you thought about how many kiss marks he had on his face. How many times had he allowed himself to cheat on you? Was this the first time? Had it gone farther than this? Was it Utahime or some other girl?
You cried yourself to sleep, knowing that Satoru wouldnât even come home to try to console you.
The next morning, you were disappointed as soon as you woke up. You wished sleep wouldâve taken your body and whisked it away far, far from here. Instead, youâre still in your bed, sleeping on a pillow that was stained from your mascara.
If you could, youâd rot in bed all day and try to forget the godforsaken video you saw last night, but you had to make a trip to the restroom.
Forcing your weak body out of bed, you let out a small pained moan. You havenât eaten a proper meal in so long, and you threw up whatever you did eat yesterday. Your appetite was completely diminished. Satoru use to say that food tasted better when it was shared. He always shared his meals with you, unbeknownst to him, helping you maintain a good schedule for eating.
Your apartment was too bright when you stepped out of the bathroom, and it smelled too much of food. The sizzling on the stove finally caught your drowsy attention.
The man of the hour, Satoru, was at your stove, shirtless and cooking something. Sleeping pants casually hung around his hips, and the dimples at the bottom of his back were so graciously being shown off. Did someone else know about those two little dimples? Even though back was facing you, you could already picture his face, littered with those stupid kiss marks.
Making a b-line for the bathroom, Satoru doesnât even get the chance to greet you. Your hands were cold and clammy as your body uncontrollably heaved over the toilet. You had nothing left to give, but Satoru was taking everything from you.
Hot tears burned your cheeks as they slipped down your face. You didnât want to do this. You wished you wouldâve never saw that fucking video last night. You shouldâve given yourself plausible deniability, but now, you had to face the music.
You slowly returned back to the kitchen after trying your best to clean yourself up. Your eyes focused on Satoru. He was finishing up cooking bacon when his eyes finally met yours and drove daggers through your heart.
âGood morning, sweetness. Something wrong?â He asks with so much care in his tone. You fantasize about hitting him â just once. How dare he suddenly care when you have to check out?
You donât even know what to say to him. Like, yes, something is clearly fucking wrong, Satoru. Iâm dating an unfaithful jerk.
âWhat are you doing here?â You ask bluntly, wiping your face of the remnants of tears and makeup that had stained your skin. He shouldnât be allowed to see how badly he hurt you.
âI⌠live here?â He responds in a questioning tone, furrowing his white eyebrows as he studies your face. âAre you okay?â If only he had asked that question weeks ago, then maybe you two wouldnât be in this mess today.
âNo, and you donât live here anymore.â You snap, causing him to slightly flinch back â not out of fear but out of surprise. Heâs never seen you like this before.
âWhat do you mean, sweetness? I-â
âCut the shit, Gojo. Donât act stupid with me. Itâs unbecoming.â You interrupt him completely, not wanting to hear him try to act innocent when you have all the proof you need on your phone.
âWoah. I donât know whatâs wrong, but I donât really appreciate the insult and the use of my government name. I genuinely have no idea of what youâre talking about.â His voice is firm, laced with sternness, so you can see that heâs not playing around with you.
You take a deep breath until your lungs burn. You want to scream at him, chase him out of the house, and light his shit on fire. Instead, you silently go to retrieve your phone. Pulling up the picture of him with kiss marks all over his face, you shove the screen in his direction.
Gojo takes a few seconds to take in the photo, and he lets his shoulders drop. âThis is what youâre mad over, sweetness?â He asks in a much more calm tone, looking up at you with almost puppy dog eyes.
âDonât call me that.â You snap while swiping your phone back from his hands. âI didnât think Iâd have to spell it out for you, but weâre fucking done.â
âYou seriously believe that I would cheat on you?â He asks in that stupid arrogant tone of his, completely ignoring your blunt rejection.
âWhy else would your high school crush post a picture of you with kiss marks all over your face!? You look so fucking dumb and in love. I fucking-â Your throat chokes up as if your body was trying to stop you from saying something you didnât mean. The words âI fucking hate youâ die right there on your lips. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you place your palms over your eyes to hide yourself from his impregnable gaze.
âThis, again?â He asks in a frustrated tone before letting out an exasperated sigh, He turns the stove off - abandoning his food before walking over to you. He bends his knees a bit to get on your level. âLook at me.â He demands before his hands go to pull yours away from your eyes.
âDonât fucking touch me.â You cry out, jerking back away from his presence. Your breath speeds up. The oxygen isnât having enough time to enter your bloodstream. Your body is vibrating, forcing the air quickly from your lungs. Everything is moving so fast and why the fuck is he so close to you-? Heâs suffocating. Fuck, catch your breath. Whyhim?Whyyou?Why?Why?Whatdidyoudotodeservethis???
A gush of air is blown harshly onto your face, and you can feel the bitter cold feeling of something touching your skin. Your eyes see Satoruâs hand holding an ice cube, guiding it along your warm skin on your arm. Your body is so hot that itâs melting faster than heâs moving it.
âBreathe. Match my movements.â Satoru guides in a calm yet steady tone. Your eyes find the way his chest is slowly rising and falling with each breath. You want to tell him to go play in traffic. You donât need him to ground you. You donât need him to do anything for you. You donât need him.
Still, your body matches his slowly. Your breath becomes more stable, and you can feel your heart starting to settle into a more natural rhythm. Your bleary eyes meet his empathetic ones. Itâs been so long since your last panic attack, but he remembers just how to calm you down.
It only makes it all hurt so much worse.
âItâs almost over. Youâre doing a good job.â He takes his chances at encouraging you. It feels so sickening, more tears flee your eyes. Where had your boyfriend been, and why is he only just now back after he did the unthinkable?
âSing with me.â Itâs an odd request, but itâs something he found that grounds you better than most grounding techniques. Saying repeatable phrases in melodic tone is comforting for your mind.
âNo.â
âCome on⌠Just one time. Your favorite.â He tries again. Metaphorically, lighting the candle and passing it back to you.
You shake your head in response. Flame snuffed. How can you sing with him after what he did to you?
âCome on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babeâ He starts with such a soft angelic voice. You fold in on yourself unable to keep the sob from escaping your throat. What method of torture is this??
âIf you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.â He continues, lighting that same candle. Itâs so small, barely there anymore from how many times you two have tried to relight it.
âHold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.â The ice cube has completely melted, and his hand is resting on your arm. He slowly guides you to his chest, and you indulge in his warm embrace for just one last time.
âCome on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe.â His chin rests on top of your head. Youâve always fit so well in his arms. Heâd always tell you that whatever higher power is out there made you specifically with him in mind.
âIf you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.â His skin is so warm against yours, and your tears are sticking to your chest.
âHold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.â You finally indulge him, softly joining in on his singing. His body slowly starts to guide you two into a soft subtle sway.
âCome on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe.â Itâs not that easy. This fucking hurts so bad. Why would your soulmate do this to you?
âIf you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.â You feel so pathetic â seeking out comfort from the one who hurt you this bad. If your friend could see you right now, sheâd slap some sense into you.
âHold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.â
Youâre sniffling softly into his chest, and his hand carefully pets your hair. âThose kiss marks werenât from Utahime.â He explains in a soft tone. âWe were filming a TikTok. The punchline of the joke was that Suguru and Haibara were the ones who kissed all over my face.â
You look up at him with an unsure look on your face, not understanding what he meant. Satoru carefully picks your phone up, and he clicks on Haibaraâs Instagram story from last night.
Sure enough, Haibara posted a TikTok of him, Suguru, Satoru, and Utahime. The camera points at Satoru, showing the kiss marks on his face, and the sound plays. âBro, what happened to your face? Did you do that?â The camera then pans to Utahime to which she mouths the words, âI did not do that.â The camera then pans to Haibara with smeared wine red lipstick on his lips who says, âThen, who did?â The camera is then panned towards Suguru. He also had wine red lipstick smeared on his lips. âYeah, who?â The two boys start laughing along with Satoru, and the video cuts.
It only comforts your weary heart slightly.
âIt was just a stupid TikTok⌠I shouldâve consulted you or warned you⌠done anything to respect you.â
âThis doesnât take back how awfully cold youâve been over the last few weeksâŚâ You sniffle out quietly, and Satoru nods his head knowingly.
âI know, sweetness.. I know. Iâve been terrible.â His arms squeeze you a bit tighter â frightened that he was so close to loosing you, still scared of losing you.
âThatâs not an apology⌠or even a reason.â You try to squirm from his grip, but Satoru holds you tighter.
âIâm so fucking sorry, sweetness.â He breathes out a shaky breath, and you realize the shakiness in his voice. Glancing up at him, you feel yourself clam up with the sight of tears in his eyes. Christ, his eyes are somehow even more blue when he cries. âShit got crazy at work then-â
âYou still had time to party it up with your friends. You left me without even telling me you love me.â You finally break away from his grasp. The cheating accusation was only the surface of the main problem.
âYou know I love youâŚâ His voice is small, and he wipes his eyes of the tears that are threatening to spill.
âDo I know that?â
âDonât⌠donât say that.. I love you more than life itself.â His shaky hands go to reach for you again, but you move back away from him.
âYouâre only doing this because Iâm leaving you. If I hadnât mentioned it, youâd probably still be half assed ignoring me.â You stare at him, and your eyes start to water for the nth time today.
âThatâs notâŚâ Satoru bites his tongue, and he runs a hand through his messy white hair. âI came home this morning⌠saw the uneaten tv dinner in the trash⌠Your reality tv show was still playing in the background, and I saw how you fell asleep with your makeup messed up⌠I realized then how much I neglected you⌠I planned a full day for us to enjoy each otherâs presence⌠Please, donât leave me for this. I can fix this.â
âHow did it feel to look at me everyday when I tried so fucking hard to reach you?â
âIt killed me.â He breathes out, and he tries to reach for you again. âPlease, I missed you so much. Work was just so fucking much, and I donât know why I took that out on you.â
You stare at him, and you shake your head silently. âYou should go, Gojo..â Your voice cracked as it physically pained you to tell him to leave. Your body craves him more than anything else in the world right now.
âNo, please, princess. Donât do this⌠I can fix this. Iâll do whatever it takes⌠just donât leave meâŚâ Satoruâs on his knees, literally begging you not to leave him. Tears are falling down his cheeks as he bows his head to you.
Itâs humiliating, but heâs so humiliatingly in love with you. Heâs so dead serious. Heâd do anything for you to stay with him.
âToru..â
âIâm sorry. Iâm so fucking sorry. I-I donât know why I did it. I just pulled away from you, and I donât know how it happened. Youâre the best damn thing thatâs ever happened t-to me. Please. I canât function without you.â
You stare at your boyfriend with concern as his head literally touches the floor beneath him. You donât even know what to say to him. The thought of leaving him hurts so fucking bad. It steals the breath from your lungs.
âPlease donât leave me⌠puhâŚ. please stay with me.â Heâs groveling at your feet, unable to stop the tears that escape his eyes. The thought of living in a world where you arenât his girlfriend⌠he wouldnât. Heâd be a shell of who he once was. Heâs nothing without you.
You slowly sit on the floor in front of him, and your hands stroke his soft hair gently. Satoruâs breath slows as he finally gets a grip on his emotions. He realizes just how pathetic he looks. He slowly leans up, and he looks at you. Both of you looked like complete messes, and it was all his fault.
âI donât deserve you,â He murmurs quietly. âbut please, I can make this better⌠I love you so much, sweetness⌠I wouldnât dream of ever cheating on you.â
âI donât forgive you.â Your voice is barely a whisper. The metaphorical flame is so small and shaky, but if you two both shield it from the wind, itâll be able to grow once more. âYou have a lot to prove me, Toru.â
âIâll spend every waking minute of my life fixing this. I promise you, sweets.â
and he did. Satoru went back to loving you loudly. He didnât merely shield the flame from being blown out, he fanned it himself so it grew in intensity. He was back to doting on you constantly, and he did frequent check-ins to make sure you werenât feeling neglected. He took frequent vacations from work with you. He usually took you two out on holidays to wherever your heart desired, but sometimes you two would use his vacation time to just lounge around the house and enjoy each otherâs presence.
Your confidence slowly returned to you over time. It wasnât easy by any means. It took many nights of Satoruâs consistent reassurance and overwhelming love and support for you to slowly start feeling comfortable in your relationship with him.
He put in the work, nourished your flame, and he never made you feel guilty for having a second thought because when he loves, he loves deeply. Casual is not his strong suit.
#jjk#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen#fanfic#drabble#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#gojo angst#satoru gojo#satoru angst#jjk angst#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jujutsu satoru#jjk satoru
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a sunday kind of love
fc : yesly dimate
charles leclerc x interviewer!yn
Notes: Im not really a follower of the wag's so if your a "fan" of ASM you might not like this b/c she's a "villain" kinda (not really?? but idk) also this took me so long because nfl season started and im stressed đŤ ANYWAYS hope you like it rt's are appreciated !!!! â¤
f1gossip

Liked by username1, username2 and 159,944 others
f1gossip Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux have confirmed their split after messages where she admitted to using Leclerc for fame leaked by a mutual friend of Leclerc and Mleux.
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username1 ohhhhh and yall hated everyone saying that she had bad vibes đ¤
username2 the season just ended??? bros gonna be alone for winter break đ
username3 what about the messages of her being jealous of y/n interviewing charles đ¤
âłusername4 i mean almost every driver flirts with her đ âłusername5 i hope they get together honestly đ¤ˇââď¸ every time she interviews him he's smiley, even if he's had a bad race 𼺠âłusername6 nahhh y/n was always a bit weird towards her, i wouldn't be surprised if she wanted charles âłusername5 SHE was weird, because when y/n tried to say hi to her she was being SOOOO fake đ âłusername7 yeah there's a video of them first meeting and SHE looked y/n up and down then when y/n turned around she made a face...... so y/n is NOT the problem
username8 she hasn't been at any races since the belgian gp, so they had to of been broken up for like three months???
âłusername9 yeah i think so, the messages that were leaked were from early july don't know why it took them three months to say something tho ? âłusername10 maybe to not distract from him racing ?
username11 the friend ate for leaking the messages
username12 she really tried to lock him in with that dog đ
âłusername13 he kept the dog in the divorce anyways đ¤
username14 both carlos and charles in their single era đ
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yourinstagram
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yourinstagram Bits of the 2023 season !! Looking forward to next year âŁ
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username1 the lewis pic is iconic !!
maxverstappen Im an incredible artist
âłyourinstagram in someone's eyes maybe âłmaxverstappen wtf âłmaxverstappen i take back every time i've said your my favorite reporter âłyourinstagram well we both know thats not true âłmaxverstappen yeah your right đ âłusername2 why do i love them đ âłusername3 there interactions are always so funny đ¤
username4 everyone's favorite reporter đ
bengals Every NFL press room misses you !! But mostly us đ
âłyourinstagram I MISS YOU ALL TOO !!! đ
đ§Ą âłusername5 she went from interviewing 6 foot nfl players to 5 foot f1 drivers đ âłusername6 the only reporter to make Burrow and Herbert smile after a bad game 𼲠âłusername7 she did nfl reporting ?? âłusername6 yep ! she did nfl and f1 reporting at the same time but the past two years she's only reported on f1 !!
username8 y/n being friends with all the drivers is my favorite thing
username9 Hi perfect woman!
charles_leclerc We got two pics carlossainz55 đŽ
âłcarlossainz55 We have to aim for at least 1 more next year đ âłyourinstagram you two are always plotting and scheming.... 𤨠âłcharles_leclerc Lies âłcarlossainz55 Lies âłyourinstagram right....
username10 literally breathtaking. a disney princess
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yourinstagram Story
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charles_leclerc so your in malibu ? đ
yourinstagram maybe.... đ
charles_leclerc well i may be in malibu as was well đ
yourinstagram mhm what a coincidence đ§
charles_leclerc sooooo charles_leclerc do you wanna get lunch or something ? charles_leclerc maybe tomorrow đ
yourinstagram iâd love too đ
charles_leclerc i'll text you the details then i'll pick you up !
yourinstagram sounds perfect !! see you then đ
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yourinstagram

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yourinstagram dinner and a date â¤
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username1 GOD IS A WOMAN
username2 what a face đ
yourbff with... who i think it is?đ
âłyourinstagram maybe...
username3 Keep shining beauty đŤ
username4 can whoever your on a date with fight ?
francisca.cgomes miss u already âŁď¸
âłyourinstagram hope to see you soon beautiful đâ¤
username5 my girl crush fr
username6 joe burrow and justin herbert just fell to their knees
âłusername7 so did half of the f1 grid... đ âłusername8 unless it's one of them đ âłusername6 burrow isn't in la but herbert is đ¤ âłusername7 a hand-full of f1 divers are in la right now tho đŠ
username9 the type of picture i would put in a locket and take to war
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charles_leclerc
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charles_leclerc Summer over. 2024 season here we come â¤đ
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username1 LEO LECLERC !!!!!!!!!!
username2 now who is that
username3 who is this diva?
username4 photo dump game is getting STRONGER
username5 HES ALIVE EEVEYONE CHEER
username6 THE LAST PIC ????
username7 I don't know which is more beautiful, the view or charles
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yourinstagram
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yourinstagram A Sunday kind of love â¤
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username1 now whose arm is that...
username2 ARE YOU READY FOR BHARAIN ????
âłyourinstagram Sadly no !! I'll be back to work at the Saudi Arabian GP !!
username3 *bows to you*
username4 u serve like no one else
maxverstappen Hello..... đ¤¨
âłyourinstagram whats with the face... âłmaxverstappen the cats were expecting a visit..... âłyourinstagram OMG I FORGOT PLEASE TELL JIMMY AND SASSY IM SORRY âłmaxverstappen they wont forget this.... đ âłyourinstagram NO PLEASE I'LL SEND THEM TREATS AS AN APOLOGY âłusername5 i know they are just friends but they have so much chemistry it's crazy đľ
username6 youâre my roman empire
username7 both charles and y/n soft launching.... if 2+2 = 4 then.....
username8 This woman makes everything she wears look good
username9 THOUGHTS ON LEWIS TO FERRARI ???
âłyourinstagram SO SO SO excited !!!
username10 well i adore u
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yourinstagram
Liked by charles_leclerc, username1 and 959,944 others
yourinstagram JEDDAH PHOTO DUMP !!!! My first weekend to start the 2024 season and what a weekend it was, glad Carlos is feeling better (we are appendix-less buddies now) max p1 checo p2 and charles p3 !!!!!!!! and a HUGE congrats to Ollie for scoring points in his f1 debut !!
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username1 Our princess is back!
username2 Youâre unreal, youâre such a masterpiece, youâre angelicÂ
maxverstappen I expect to be in every photo dump
âłyourinstagram so sassy đ
username3 how could anyone be this perfect
olliebearman Thank you !!!! đ
liked by yourinstagram
username4 We love you princess
francisca.cgomes Iâm the leader of your fan club â¤ď¸
liked by yourinstagram
username5 My favorite Woman is back!!!!
charles_leclerc The last pic is my favorite
âłyourinstagram mhm wonder why.....đ§
username6 The angel we all need
username7 i cannot get over how absolutely stunning you are ????? help
username8 Blooming đ
đź
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yourinstagram
Liked by charles_leclerc, username1 and 859,944 others
yourinstagram HELLO HELLO !!!! Australia, Japan, China, Miami PHOTO DUMP !!!! The start of the 2024 season has been a bit stressful but ALSO so so so fun
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username1 please hard launch soon i cant take the suspense đŠđ
oscarpiastri Some very intense racing going on in the 4th picture
liked by yourinstagram
username2 y/n the woman you are, thank you for the picsđ§đťââď¸
lilymhe Gorgeous angle đ đź
liked by yourinstagram
username3 you've a bit more down this season đ hope your taking care of yourself !!!
âłyourinstagram Don't worry I am !!! The weekends can be a bit stressful is all, hopefully lessening the work load will help ⤠âłusername3 sad if there is less y/n but glad your prioritizing yourself !! â¤
username4 you always have the best bts pictures thank you đ
username5 literally the it girl
francisca.cgomes You are everything and more đ
liked by yourinstagram
username6 serving cvnt as always
landonorris Im everyone's favorite part of this photo dump
âłyourinstagram you keep telling yourself that
username7 Oh hi pretty girl
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yourinstagram
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yourinstagram Italy â
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username1 Real life princess indeed
landonorris podium đ
âłyourinstagram who? âłlandonorris who what ? âłyourinstagram asked... âłlandonorris wtf ???
username2 ik y/n freaked out seeing vettel đ¤
username3 in italy but no gp ?? do you job đ
âłyourinstagram Yes ! I was at the race just not reporting, Luke who is an incredible reporter is going to be doing a few races this season. âłyourinstagram Race weekends can be a bit overwhelming and hopefully having the option of letting someone else report we'll help lessen the negative effects of the job for both of us !!! Hope that answers your question âş âłusername4 "Hope that answers your question" oh she ate that đ¤
username5 all the red..... she has to be dating either charles or carlos
username6 wait is she dating the dude in the 6th pic ????
âłusername4 nope !! thats luke gooding a reporter and he has a girlfriend !!
username7 yall need to stfu about who she's dating omfg
francisca.cgomes i love you pretty girl
âłyourinstagram love ya đŤ
username8 ughh face card sister oml
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f1gossip
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f1gossip Charles Leclerc and reporter Y/n L/n were spotted shopping in Monaco ahead of the Monaco GP.
Do we think they're dating ?
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username1 this is so serious for me....
username2 YES THEY ARE DATING !!! they have not been subtle about it, they flirt in their interviews, charles has been posting her cats in his insta stories for WEEKS âŚ.
âłusername3 theyâve probably been together for a while honestlyâŚ. glad they feel comfortable being more public tho đŤś
username4 they are being more public together while his ex is liking hate post about y/n.....
âłusername3 she's always liked weird shit on socials, so im not surprised lmao
username5 wait they were in cali at the same time AND y/n posted a picture saying dinner an a date....
âłusername6 so they've been seeing eachother for like 6 MONTHS ??? âłusername7 we dont know if they're together?? they were just hanging out... âłusername6 after the double date and this......i don't think it's really a question if they're dating đ
username8 they are definitely hard launching this weekend
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charles_leclerc
Liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri and 6,559,944 others
charles_leclerc Happy birthday to the hardest working, sweetest, and most beautiful creature I've ever known, I adore you and love you more than you know ma chĂŠrie â¤
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username1 IS HE QUOTING HARRY STYLES SONGS ???? MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS đ
username2 I love this couple! So beautiful â¤ď¸
yourinstagram oh i love you so so much mi amor !!! đĽ˛đŤś
âłcharles_leclerc You are my world đ love love you âŁ
username3 The way he is looking at her is every girls dream
username4 the way you tagged her on your heart 𼺠happy bday y/n we love ya â¤ď¸
leclerc_pascale Happy birthday to my favorite girl ⤠Always a smile on the two of your faces when i see you guys together â¤ď¸
âłyourinstagram Awww love ya â¤
landonorris lucky guy đ
username5 It's not fair that you're living my dream, perhaps the dream of millions.
username6 The most gorg pair
username7 I donât think there is a more beautiful looking couple on earth
username8 OMG MY PARENTSSS
username9 You guys !! Love looks good on u both â¨
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yourinstagram
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yourinstagram Monaco 24' !!!!! What a dream to see Monaco love you back mi amor. Such a sight to see you on the top step of your home race, you have deserved this win for so so so long !!! iâm so proud of you and i love you endlessly âŁď¸
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username1 him blowing a kiss to her on the podium đĽş
charles_leclerc Thank you for being there ma chĂŠrie â¤
âłcharles_leclerc I love you to the moon and back ⣠âłyourinstagram love you my pretty boy đŞâ¤
username2 did you tell the cameras to focus on someone else because you were about to cryâŚ
âłyourinstagram maybeâŚ.𫣠- not just crying though it was VERY close to full on SOBBING đ
username3 oh iâm crying a little đĽ˛
leclerc_pascale thank you for making our boy so happy my sweet girl
âłyourinstagram thank you for making him easy to love ⤠âłusername âour boyâ âeasy to loveâ i canât take this today iâve already cried to much đŤ
username4 three cats and a puppy..... its a full house mama
username5 AHHHHHH đđđ so so happy for you both đ¸đ
username6 I honestly just wanna be like you when I grow up.
arthur_leclerc I am in possession of a picture of y/n sobbing if anyone wants it
âłyourinstagram leo and cat privileges could very easily be revoked âłarthur_leclerc My apologizesâŚ. i was lying đ âłusername6 he really said â my apologies i wasnât familiar with your gameâ đ
username7 yall are so cute im gonna throw up
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charles_leclerc
Liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri and 7,559,944 others
charles_leclerc Last but favorite photo dump from my Monaco weekend â¤
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username1 you and y/n are the only people ever đŞ
username2 these two lovebirds â¤
yourinstagram my favorite race winner !!! đĽ˛đŤś
âłcharles_leclerc â¤đĽ°â¤
username3 You guys look like a dream
username4 you can tell how much it meant to charles to win this race
arthur_leclerc Congrats to y/n's boyfriend for winning the Monaco GP !!!
âłcharles_leclerc My favorite nickname 𼰠âłarthur_leclerc The fact that i know you're not joking.... âłcharles_leclerc What's to joke about đ¤ˇââď¸
username5 adorable the two of you â¤
username6 charles monaco gp win you are and will always be everything to me
lewishamilton7 Happy for you man đâ¤
username8 I'M SO SINGLE THIS ISN'T FUN ANYMORE
#f1 fandom#formula 1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 social media au#f1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#cl16 x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc smau#cl16 imagine#cl16 x you#charles leclerc social media au#charles leclerc imagine#cl16 x y/n#cl16 fic#cl16 fluff#cl16 fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x y/n
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Pillow Talk (2/4)
Read Part 1 | AO3 Link
Sequel to Come Home to Me but can be read separately.
Pairing: Sung Jinwoo X Female Reader
Genre:Â Marriage AU, fluff, smut, slight hurt/comfort
Summary: Although the two of you yearn for each other's touch so badly, you start the night slow. Cuddling with your husband in bed, you ask him questions you've never had the bravery to ask before. And as he comforts you, he can't help but tease and play with you a little.
Content Warnings: constant flirting, endless banter and teasing, some nipple play (you'll sit on his face in the next part tho đ)
Word Count: 10K

The bed sheets wrinkle underneath your fingers, your heart thumping in excitement as the word ârewardâ rings through your ears. You watch him hover above you, your body caged by his own. âI can ask for... anything?â
With a chuckle so soft yet titillating, Jinwoo prods his nose against the pulsating vein on your neck, savoring your sweet, intoxicating scent. âAnything.â
You swallow thickly, a thousand different wishes bursting into your head at once. âT-then⌠I want you toâŚâÂ
Kiss me. Touch me. Make love to me.Â
These words echo vehemently in your head, a plea that almost physically pains you to ignore. âK-kiâŚâ You canât say it. You stop yourself from saying it. You donât want to let him win, not like this, not without effort. Your husband is already a fucking tease even without you giving him a reason to be. If you surrender now, heâll flaunt his cheeky, cocky grin all day tomorrow, and while heâll look unbearably sexy when he does that, youâre not sure if your pride can take it.Â
A mischievous glint coats his eyes simply from noticing the changes in your behavior. Jinwoo drags his face closer to yours, his sentence coming out in a low, seductive purr, âGetting shy now, Sweetheart? How cute.â
See? Even when you havenât said anything yet, heâs already annoying.Â
Though flustered, you keep yourself composed. A little teasing like this isnât something you canât quickly recover from. Determined to step up your game, you bite your bottom lip, both to restrain yourself from begging for him to touch you as well as to entice him so heâll make the first move. You know he wants this just as much as you do. If anything, with the way heâs trapping you underneath him right now, his hips eager to seek friction, heâs already craving something more than a kiss. Itâs a shame that heâs just as stubborn as you are, but then again, thatâs what makes it more interesting for you.Â
Your eyes travel down to his lips, lingering there for a moment to ensure he receives your message. When they traverse back to his cobalt blues, your lips parting in the shape of his name, his gaze darkens, permeated by nothing but the carnal desire heâs trying to rein in. Unfortunately for you, Jinwoo has played similar games in the past, and heâs committed to winning each time. This one, especially, is the one thing heâll never allow himself to lose, keeping himself strong and unswayed no matter how much he longs to kiss your pout away. His victory over you would grant him the most satisfaction of all. Heâs certain of it.
Jinwoo cups your cheek, his thumb playing with the edge of your mouth. He mimics what you did before, letting his gaze cascade to your lips, the soft breath of his whisper ghosting over them. Seduction colors every line of his face, every letter of the words he speaks. âDoes my sweet wife want a kiss?â
âA kiss? No, I donât want a kiss. I want you to stick your tongue in my mouthâ is a thought you promptly dismiss the moment his smirk arises on his lips. âI donât know. Does my annoying husband want one?â It surprises you that you can still muster something witty when heâs looking down at you like that, and seeing how he laughs slightly in response, it appears he feels the same way, too.Â
âMaybe he does,â his mouth shadows your lobe, nipping lightly at the shell of your ear to remind you how thrilling it was to have his teeth grating against your skin, leaving marks that would set your heart on fire every time you caught your reflection in the mirror. âMaybe,â he continues as he wedges his leg between your own, pushing the end of your nightgown to your thighs, his knee pressed dangerously against the thin fabric of your lingerie. âHe wants to have more than a kiss.â
Your breath hitches in your throat; the urge to just grind on his thigh threatens to consume you. Another layer of haughtiness paints his smile. He knows exactly the effects he has on you, and he wants you to act on it, to give in to your desire so he can finally do what heâs been craving to do all day.Â
You wonât let that happen, not yet. âMm, yeah, thought so.â You play high and mighty to put a cloak over your soaring heart, which only entertains him further. âSo, what is he going to do about it?â
âHmm⌠Why donât you close your eyes and see?â Heâs testing the water, checking to see if youâll be an obedient pet for him, but this thought doesnât spring to your mind, at least not immediately.Â
Though you know you should fight it, your body yearns terribly for him. Just a kiss is fine, right? Everything else, you wonât make it so easy. Sinking into a moment of weakness, you shut your lids as requested, waiting. And as you do, you fail to see how pleased he looks, how your little act of submission adds another layer of desire to his gaze.
You can feel Jinwoo leaning down, closing the already imperceptible distance between you. His lips hover right above yours, the sweet caress of his breath skimming across your mouth and chin. You wait in anticipation, but the kiss never comes, not in the way you wanted it to be.
Instead of locking your lips together, your husband places a tiny, tiny kiss on the point of your nose, a peck similar to what your daughter often gives you. You snap your eyes open, squinting at him almost menacingly as you grumble, âYouâre such a tease.â
âAm I?â Another chuckle breaks free from his throat, a spark of glee underneath the huskiness of his voice. âI asked what you wanted me to do for you, but you didnât answer my question. Iâm not a mind-reader, you know. If you want something, Sweetheart,â he pauses just to glide his thumb over your lips, his tongue peeking out slightly to wet his own pair as he gazes down at your inviting mouth. âYou need to be a good girl and ask for it.â
Although your stomach flips in response, your mind refuses to accept defeat. You know what? Fine. You decide inwardly as you try to keep yourself collected. If he wants to do this, to toy with you as he pleases, then youâll play with him all night long. âYouâre right. A peck on the nose was exactly what I wanted,â you utter almost through gritted teeth. âYou know me so well, Husband.â
His body vibrates slightly with mirth. âWell then, Iâll give you one more.â His grin presses against your skin as he presents you with another one, still the same stupid little peck on your nose. âAnd a little bit of this,â he nuzzles the tip of your noses together, acting cute. âTo chase the pout away.âÂ
God, I hate him so much, you think, as your heart flutters for him, falling in love all over again. âIâm not pouting.â
âSure, you arenât, love,â he simpers as he plants a playful kiss on your head. Then, as if he wasnât affected by the smothering sexual tension between you, Jinwoo falls back to the bed, settling himself right next to you. âLetâs chat for a bit before we go to sleep. I wanna hear you talk about your day.â
Before we go to sleep? You almost scoff. Oh, heâs completely messing with me. The worst thing is, you donât hate it. Youâre frustrated, sure, but you donât hate it. He looks so incredibly young and boyish this way, the kind of juvenility that only you are allowed to see, judging from how stoic and composed he carries himself in public.Â
Like him, you roll over to lie on your side, facing him with your sulk slowly fading. âMy day is hardly any interesting compared to yours.âÂ
âMaybe not, but you are.â His wolfish grin has altered back into the usual smile he displays, charming and tender, brimming with affection. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Jinwoo draws you closer and lets you rest your head on his chest. âI want to know everything about you, Sweetheart. I want to see if thereâs something I can help. How are you feeling? Did you get to eat much today?â
âNot really,â you answer, followed shortly by an enervated exhale. You nuzzle your face further into his chest, basking in his wonderful, comforting scent and the warmth that rivals your velvety duvet. His bare chest and the toned muscles beneath his flawless skin shouldâve been distractingâthey are, still, to some extentâbut right now, the need to be cared for and spoiled by your husband surpasses the craving your body thirsts for. âEverything still makes me nauseous. I kept forcing myself to eat just to get something inside, but I ended up vomiting every time. Iâll keep trying, but⌠I just hope the supplements are enough to keep our baby healthy for now.â
He runs his palm up and down your spine, his face sketched with sympathy. âI wish I could find a way to stop it. I can only imagine how hard it is for you.â
âItâs fine.â You feel soothed, your muscles unwinding under his touch. âAs long as our baby is okay, Iâll deal with anything. Iâm scared, yes, but⌠I enjoy it, too. Itâs part of being a mother.â
His gaze softens, shimmering with the gratefulness he feels for having someone like you as his wife. âYouâve done so well, Sweetheart.â He rewards you with a kiss, his smile plastered directly on the little spot between your brows. âIâm so proud of you,â he strokes the back of your head, an act of consolation you didnât think you needed this badly.
Your spirit brightens, your body feels so much lighter as you embrace him close. Those words he spoke⌠They might have been simple, but you truly needed to hear them today. It feels amazing to have someone you can lean on, to listen to you without judging, to be proud of the sacrifices you make for your family. Jinwoo couldâve easily acted stoic and unsympathetic after witnessing the horrifying things heâd encountered in the dungeons, but with you, he never did. He understands your struggles, and he admires you for getting through them each time.
As you enjoy this moment of comforting silence, he whispers, âIâm sorryâŚâ
âHmm?â You lean your head back to capture his gaze, your hair brushing against his chin in the process. âFor what?âÂ
ââCause I made you go through all of this again,â he gently brushes his knuckles against your cheekbone, gazing down at you with remorse.Â
âYouâre sorry âcause you got me pregnant?â
âWell⌠Yeah.â
Your hushed giggle fills the air. âYouâre not sorry. You love getting me pregnant.â
If there was a blush blooming on his cheeks, he tried his best to conceal it. âI mean, yes, I do, but seeing you like this⌠I canât help but feel bad about it.â
You snort. âYou should apologize for almost breaking my back during our last session, not this.â
You can feel the vibration of his laughter directly from his chest, one that doesnât last long. âIâm sorry for that, tooâthough it will most definitely happen again.â Jinwoo returns a small distance between you, tilting your face up by the chin. âIs there anything I can do to make you feel better?â Thereâs sincerity in his question, replacing the previous devilment in his eyes with concern.
âThanks for the thought, honey.â You curl your fingers around his wrist as a feeble smile crawls back to your lips. âBut no, Iâll be fine. It will pass, donât worry.â You intertwine your fingers together, every space filled perfectly as if you were a set. âBut if you want to make me feel better, why donât you tell me what actually happened in the gate today? Not knowing the full story makes me anxious, and I donât think that's good for our baby.âÂ
His soft titters ruffle your strands. âIâm sorry I made you worry, but really, everything is fine. All you have to know is that Iâm safe, and I always will be.â Bringing your joined hands closer to his face, Jinwoo adorns the back of your hand with a reverent kiss. âI have you waiting for me to come home, donât I? Iâve promised you once that I would return to you no matter what, and Iâm a man of my word. Nothing can keep me away from you, Sweetheart.â
His tender tone pacifies you, but itâs never enough to completely excise your past traumatic memories of nearly losing him. âIt wasnât like the last time, was it? The beast that put those wounds on your chest?âÂ
âNo, nothing like that,â he answers with haste, not wanting you to fret even further (itâs just a stupid game he plays to get your attention, after all). âIt was just Beru.â
As if being summoned, the shadow soldier materializes out of thin air, still in the shape of a small, floating head. âM-My liege,â Beru greets, the pitch black, smoggy cloak around him quivers just as much as his voice. He hovers close to his summonerâs face, beseeching him for forgiveness. âI can no more bear this guilt within mine own chest. To make amends for mine sins, I shall taketh mine own life. Though I shall be reborn through thy mystic powers, the anguish must needs be worth the price of thy fair skin I have besmirched with these abominable hands. I shall end mine existence a hundredfold, nay, a thousandfoldââ
âCan you not waste my mana, please?â Your husband sighs, breaking away from you with a frown. All the romantic tension heâs been building before to sweep you off your feet? Gone. âAnd what did I tell you about not snooping into my private moments?â
âMine most humble apologies, my liege!â Beru panics, flying back and forth like a little ball of black flame in the soft, golden glow of your bedroom. âI hath but come hither to bid thee good night! Naught did I desire to intrude upon thy sacred, amorous moment with thy lady wife, most especially when thou hast longed for her gentle caress all the livelong dayââ
Jinwoo slaps a hand over the antâs mouth, his large palm nearly covering his entire face, grasping it hard enough for Beru to start mewling under his hold. His smile is nothing but menacing, a warning for the shadow to for the love of God, shut. the fuck. up. âYes, yes, good night, Beru. Would that be all, or is there something else you wish to tell me?â Despite his sweet offer, Jinwoo tightens his clutch over his face. Shaking like a leaf and unable to speak, Beru shakes his head fervently, wanting nothing more than to flee the scene. âGood. Then, I suggest you take your leave. Now.â The necromancer then raises his voice a tad louder, sounding just as firm as he speaks his command. âNot just you. All of you.â
More floating heads emerge before you at once, cowering as they have been caught red-handed. You recognize them as the nameless, lower-ranked knights and mages whose enthusiasm for their masterâs love life vies with Beruâs obsession. They hide themselves behind the Ant King, their faces painted with both guilt and horror.Â
âHie thee hence, ye peasants!â Beru shouts at his underlings the second his master releases him from his, quite literally, death grip. âYe heard what our lord and savior hast spoken! Flee now! Pronto!â
They vanish as suddenly as they appeared, returning the two of you to silenceâs embrace once more. Jinwoo throws his head back to the pillow, releasing what must have been his most exhausted sigh yet. âSorry you had to see that,â he mutters as he massages the bridge of his nose. Not even an S-rank gate could make him feel as worn out as the antics his little shadows had pulled just now.
âItâs okay,â you chuckle. Itâs heartwarming to see how close he is with his soldiers. Every single being in his army doesnât just respect and fear him as their lord; they adore him as a family figure who cares for and protects them. Their curiosity for his love life was born out of fondness. They pray in their own way for their master to always be surrounded by joy as it delights their hearts just the same. Sure, they can be a little immature sometimes, but itâs part of the reason why theyâve become so endearing to you. âYou know, Iâm starting to think that theyâre not your soldiers anymore. Theyâre your sons.â
âHonestly, that sounds about right.â
âExcept Igris.â
âExcept Igris, thank god.â
The way he looks so utterly grateful for it amuses you, but not as much as the fact thatâif what Beru had said was trueâyour husband has been so blatantly yearning for your touch that even an ant could see it. âSo,â you nestle close to him, using his arm as a pillow. âYouâve been thinking about me all day, huh?â A flirty twinkle veneers your eyes as your fingers absentmindedly draw circles on his chest, feeling him grow tense under your touch. âDid you get that cut because you were distracted during the raid, or did you get hurt on purpose to get my attention? Which one is it?â
A part of him was ready to drive Beruâs head into the ground for exposing him like that, but then again, as a lover, a friend, and a person he can call home, you're the only one who always sees right through him. Itâs only a matter of time before you start figuring things out on your own, the way you always do.Â
Does he feel embarrassed that you see right through his plans? Yeah, maybe a bit. Does he feel guilty about it? Sort of, yeah. But showcasing those feelings would be accepting defeat, and thatâs not an option he can take. So, instead of coming clean, Jinwoo quickly replaces his shame with mischief, showcasing the naughtiest smirk on his lips. âAnd what if I was?â Jinwoo questions seductively, twining his fingers around your wrist. âWould you be flattered that I thought about you all day?â
Your reaction, however, is far from what heâs expected.
âWould I be flattered?â You flick him on his nose, earning a surprised flinch out of him. âYou shouldnât have gotten distracted during the fightâit couldâve been dangerous! Thank goodness it was just a cut, but what if it was worse? What if it was life-threatening? Also, why do you still have that in the first place? Canât you just heal it with potion?â
He enjoys this. Thereâs nothing cuter to him than the way you look when youâre upset. It just makes him want to tease you even more. âMaybe I want my wife to kiss it better,â he replies, an elfin grin blooming on his lips, one that you scrape off almost immediately by grabbing his face, your thumb and index finger digging into his cheeks.
âDo not try to flirt your way out of this, Sung Jinwoo. Iâm very angry at you right now.â No, youâre not, not really. After all, there was no harm done. But still, you need to get your point across because otherwise, his dumbass would keep doing it.
Now that youâve refused to give him a kiss, his plan backfires. Sighing in defeat after you release him, he reveals the truth with a slight jut of his bottom lip. âFine. The truth is, no, I wasnât distracted during the fight because I was never in one to begin with. I just stood there on the sideline, waiting for my shadows to clear the gate for me.â
âAnd what were you doing exactly? You canât just simply be standing there, Jin. Youâre an S-rank hunter.â
âUhhâŚâ He begins to sweat, one finger scratching his cheek as he tries to come up with an excuse. âI was busy, umm⌠thinking.â
âNot about me naked, surely.â
He blushes. He actually blushes. âOf course not. I was trying to come up with a plan. Another raid is coming soon. I want to find a strategy to do my next mission more efficiently.â
âMm, sounds like bullshit, but okay. So, how did you get the cut?â
He racks his brain as best as he can. Nothing comes up. He does it a second time. Still, nothing comes up. The truth, it is, then. âWell, like you said, I wanted to get your attention, soââ
âI swear to God, Jinwoo, if you said you did that to yourselfâŚâ You donât even bother to finish the sentence. He knows what you mean, and he knows exactly what youâre capable of in terms of disciplining him. No weapons and hunters could harm him in this world, but being deprived of your touch? Of your kiss? Now, thatâs torture.
âNot⌠exactly like that,â he answers, his eyes straying away from your own.
Then, it clicks. âYou asked Beru to hit you, didnât you?â
Bullseye. Heâs completely avoiding your gaze now. Only silence answers you, but that, itself, is the evidence you need.
âUnbelievable. That is the stupidest thing Iâve ever heard.â And yet, you find yourself giggling even before you can finish your sentence, the sound airy and pretty, a perfect symphony to his ears. The whole image of Beru, who was most likely crying as he obeyed his master's command, punching him in the face just because your husband wanted your attention is just downright ridiculous to you.
Jinwoo's eyes droop in fondness, his chest overflowing with the affection he holds for you. You seem so carefree and light at this moment, your face relaxed as if you hadnât been weighed down by the stress thatâs consumed you all day. He keeps himself quiet as he watches you laugh, his heart missing a beat.
âThere it is. My favorite sound in the world,â he smiles so endearingly at you, so breathtakingly gorgeous, it causes your stomach to twist and churn at the sight of Godâs most perfect masterpiece. âI was worried that I wasnât going to hear it today since all youâd been doing was scolding me.â
âAnd whose fault do you think that is?â you reply with a light poke to his abdomen, his soft chuckles intermingling with yours in the close space between your mouths. âI canât believe you went through all that for me.â
He captures your hand, bestowing a soft kiss on the ridges of your knuckles. âItâs worth the price.â He looks so dreamy like this, picture-perfect, a handsome prince with a devilish grin.Â
âIâm gonna have to apologize to Beru on your behalf.â You watch how pretty the rosy shade of his lips looks upon your skin, entranced. That, too, is picture-perfect. âYou canât keep torturing him like that, Jin. Just how many times has it been already? Heâs just a kid.â
âDo that later.â He places your hand on his cheek, his stare so soft, itâs almost imploring. âSpoil me first.â Your lover sinks his face in the dip of your palm, nuzzling against it with his eyes closed. âI may have been a bit naughty today, yes, but it doesnât mean I didnât work hard during the raid.â
âYou just said you were doing nothing but standing there while picturing me naked.â
âBut Iâve missed you." He resorts to his ultimate weapon, winning your heart with his raspy voice and his pleading eyes. âI miss you so much, baby⌠Donât you miss me?âÂ
The longing sigh, the soft blush plating his cheeks, the glimmering blue eyesâheâs cute, so cute, which is such a weird thing to say as you never thought that he and the word cute could belong in the same sentence. Who cares if he's gaslighting you now, right? Heâs pretty.
âGod, what am I going to do with you?â You mutter, followed by a playful roll of your eyes. With a doting smile coating your lips, you spread your arms for him. âCome here.â
Jinwoo wastes no time, burying his face in your chest and holding you so tightly that he almost steals all the air in your lungs. You laugh, the sweet, hushed sound reserved only for his ears to hear. âBig baby,â you croon, cradling his head close. He pays no heed to anything anymore. You can call him whatever he wants; he no longer cares. No, the Gods can burn down the world to ashes right now, and heâd still refuse to leave your embrace. Heâs finally home, where he belongs, and he just wants to submerge himself in this moment and memorize every detailâthe sound of your breathing, the beats that your heart sings, this sweet serenity you bring him, the warmth and the softness of your skin, the scent that intoxicates him with both love and desireâeverything.
He wishes that youâd let him stay like this for a while, while you beg the heavens to let you have this moment forever. It makes you feel worthy, special, needed, to be the only one in this universe who can offer him this sense of solace.Â
You card your fingers through his hair, his raven strands smoother than silk. And when you brush a tender kiss on his forehead, he lets out a soft sigh, relieved and contented, as if a single kiss from you managed to wash away all the burden the world had bestowed upon his shoulders.Â
Jinwoo closes his lids, letting you stroke his hair like a child. He relishes the intimacy as your scent fills him, grateful for the comfort you offer him simply by just being here in his embrace.Â
Seconds pass by, a company to his steady breathing. Guided by the quietude of your bedroom, your thoughts begin to wander. âJinwooâŚâ
âHmm?â
âThese foster kids of yours,â you begin with a joke. âWhat do they think of me?â
His eyes slowly flutter open as a smile ornaments his lips. âLet's see... The knights think of you as their queen,â he says, his voice slightly muffled by the skin that covers your heart. âThe mages think of you as a goddess that needs to be worshipped, which is honestly true,â he flirts, as smoothly as always. âThe ants see you as their mother, and Kaisel loves you like a pet loves its owner. You can tell by how much he wags his tail when heâs around you, right?â
âRight,â you reply fondly, recalling the way the wyvern always bows his head low before you, his tail swaying back and forth as he waits for your gentle hands to pet his scales. âWhat about Iron?â
âIron thinks youâre a great cook. He loves the cookies you baked for him before. He did not like the ones our daughter made him.â You exchange soft laughter with your husband. The memory of your daughter stuffing a dozen burnt cookies into the warriorâs mouth never failed to tickle your stomach.Â
âBeruâŚâ Jinwoo continues, humming lowly as he mulls about it. âWell, Beru admires you for being the only person who can put me in my place. And he thinks of you as, and I quote, the worthy bearer of my kingâs seeds, so heââ
âYes, Iâve heard about that already, thanks,â you mutter. Hearing that title the second time doesnât make it any less mortifying. âAnd Igris? Does he ever talk about me?â
For a moment, Jinwoo turns hushed, uncertain if he should reveal the truth. âIgris⌠thinks of you as my biggest weakness,â he murmurs, causing you to stiffen in response. He runs a hand down your backside, reassuring you before he elaborates further. âHe thinks youâre the one thing that I canât live without. He worries about your safety constantly, knowing that I would be as good as dead if you weren't there with me. He cares about you as much as I do. Heâs even sworn to protect you with his life.âÂ
With how quiet and tender these words flow past his lips, you can tell that he doesnât simply reiterate Igrisâ words. They come from the bottom of his heart, too. You tighten your hold around him, burying your nose in his hair. âIâll always be safe, I promise.â
âIâll make sure you are,â he vows, shutting his lids and sinking into your embrace once more, thankful for this moment.
âTell Igris I said thank you, okay?â
âNo need, baby. He already knows.â
He does? Oh⌠Right. âHeâs always with you, huh? Every one of your soldiers.â
âSince theyâre connected to my shadow, yeah. Theyâre part of me now.â
âAnd they⌠can see and hear everything thatâs going on between us?â
Jinwoo blinks before a peal of his deep laughter reverberates to your skin, tickling the dip of your cleavage. You can tell he already knows where youâre going with this. âMm-hmm, they have their eyes and ears everywhere.âÂ
âAlways?â
âAlways.â He pulls away just enough to take a good look at you, a little smile playing on his lips. âWhat is it? Are you worried they might be watching us right now?â
âA little bit,â you answer reluctantly, feeling rather childish for even bringing this topic out in the open. Youâve been with the Shadow Monarch for years. Surely, his shadows must have seen everything by now, and yet⌠You canât help but long for a moment of privacy. Tonight, especially. âI know you just told them to disappear, but they can still hear us, canât they? They can close their eyes when you tell them to, but itâs not like they can control their hearing, right?â
âThatâs right.â Heâs not bothered by it in the slightest. If anything, it amuses him. âThey can still hear us, yes, but thereâs nothing to worry about. Theyâre very loyal to me, and they respect my privacy more than anything. They know better than to listen in on our private moments.âÂ
âBeru and his gang literally popped out a minute ago.âÂ
âYeah, but thatâs Beru.â He speaks of him as if the Ant King were this stubborn child that heâd given up to control a long time ago. âTheyâre gone now.â Seeing how your focus is still somewhere else, he gently grabs your face, trapping your gaze and holding it still. âYouâre thinking about them when you shouldâve been focusing on meâyour husband whoâs been craving for your attention all day. Youâre breaking my heart, Princess.â
âI want to focus on you, darling; thatâs why Iâm asking you this. Thereâs something I want to do with you, and knowing that they can hear us, I⌠canât help but feel a bitâŚâ Your voice shrinks to a murmur as fire licks your cheeks. ââŚembarrassed.â
Jinwoo examines you for a moment, taking in the way you turned flushed so adorably as you spoke your words. âAnd here I thought you couldnât get any cuter,â he comments, adoring you. âI could ask them to go on another patrol if that could make you feel better. You just want us to be alone, right?â
You answer with a nod. He can sense the guilt that radiates off you for asking something so selfish. âAll right,â he assures you with a light kiss on the top of your head. âGive me a second.âÂ
They begin to gleam, his irises, switching from sapphires into brilliant amethyst as his magic power exudes. He then closes his eyes, spending a brief moment to spread a mental command to his soldiers. By the time his lids flicker open, theyâve returned to the gentle cobalts that youâve grown to cherish more than anything. âThere. Theyâre gone now.â
âAll of them?â
âAll of them. I asked Igris to keep them in check, just in case.â
âThank you,â you breathe out in relief, tension leaving your body. âSorry for asking you this. I didnât mean to be so selfish, butâŚâ
âItâs no problem, baby.â Your husband runs his hand gently down your naked arm, enjoying the soft feel of your skin under his fingertips. âI know how important privacy is to you. And donât worry, theyâll be gone until I summon them back. We have this moment all to ourselves now. That being saidâŚâ Like a snake shedding its skin, his previous soft smile morphs into a naughty smirk. âWhat is it that youâre planning to do to me that you donât want my shadow soldiers to know?â
âNothing.â And yet, you canât seem to look at him in the eyes. âI, umm⌠I just wanted to ask you some questions.âÂ
His fingers have now slid down to your thigh, gliding against the satin of your nightgown. âDirty questions?â
âJ-just questions.â
âHmm,â he purrs in dissatisfaction. The sound so sultry, it elevates your heart rate by tenfold. âCanât say Iâm not a little bit disappointed by that, Sweetheart. Will I, at least, get a reward if I agree?â
âI mean, you can ask me anything you want, too. Iâll answer them honestly.â
âAnything?â
Youâre already regretting it, even now. You didnât think it would be a big deal for him, but knowing Jinwoo⌠Of course, heâll take every opportunity he can get to rile you up in the best way possible. âAnything⌠I guessâŚâ
He snickers at your uncertainty. âWell, Iâd be a fool to refuse that.â A little glimpse of his fangs grace your eyes as he grins, already looking so pleased and confident to play your game. âYou better live up to your words, Sweetheart. Or, donât, itâs up to you. Iâll be enjoying this in one way or another because if you run away, Iâll have a reason to punish you.â
It feels like youâre already losing before you even begin. God, this whole thing is a mistake, isn't it? âI-Iâll go first. If you could only keep one shadow soldier for the rest of your life, and another one for me, who would you choose?â
His whole expression changes. Saying that he looks utterly dissatisfied by it would be an understatement. âThatâs your question? Really?â
Okay, that might have been a little boring, butâ âIâm curious about who your favorite shadow is, sue me. And donât look at me like that, Jinwoo, I already said I wouldnât ask you anything dirty. And you better not, too!â
âCanât promise you that, my love,â he tosses another smirk toward your direction. âWell, letâs seeâŚâ To your surprise, he takes a moment to ponder to himself. You realize as you examine his expression that he holds every soldier in his army dearly, caring for them just the same. Asking him this question carries the same weight as asking a parent who their favorite child is. âI think Iâd take Igris,â Jinwoo answers after a while. âNot only is he strong, he was the first high-rank shadow I obtained, so heâs special to me in a way. Heâs also the most loyal, most responsible out of everyone else. I trust him with my life if it comes down to it.â
âI thought youâd say it would be a tie between him and Beru.â
He smiles, happy to see how you could predict his answer perfectly. âThatâs true, and thatâs why Iâm choosing him, too. For you.â
âYouâd give me Beru? Even though he praises you non-stop, worships you like a God?â
âThatâs exactly why Iâm assigning him to you,â he grimaces at the thought. âIgris is more serious and mature. Personality-wise, he suits me better. I like the fact that he doesnât talk much, and yet he knows me better than anyone else. I would enjoy the comforting silence between us, the way I always have. Beru, on the other hand, is much more⌠enthusiastic. Heâs got a lot of personality and can be a little high-maintenance. I have no doubt you two would get along and be trouble together. You both drive me crazy.â
You find hilarity in his words. âBeru would cry if he heard about this.â
âHe wonât. He loves you just the same. He has a statue of you in the shadow realmâIâve told you about that, right?â
âYou have.â And you wouldâve chuckled at that had a grim thought never occurred in your mind, but it did, and now itâs all you can think about. You try to refrain yourself from asking, but your curiosity swells faster than you can control your tongue. âJinwoo, when I die⌠Will you turn me into your shadow soldier? Or would you just let me go and bury me?â
Your husband freezes at the question, the humor gone from his face. The abrupt change of topic leaves him with his tongue tied, but the second your question sinks in, his answer is immediate. âYouâre not going to die.âÂ
He states it like a fact, indisputable, and it pains you a little to press him further on this, but you must know. âEveryone will die eventuallyââ
âNot you.â The firmness in his tone stuns you, silencing you at once. âI wonât let you die. I'll do everything in my power to save you. Youâre mine. Nothing will ever change that. You will always be with me, right here in my arms, just like this.â His hold is possessive, perhaps even selfish, but beneath all that, his heart races when you place your palm over his chest as if merely the thought of losing you scares him to death.Â
You alleviate your voice, pacifying him with a gentle caress to his cheek. âItâs just a hypothetical question, darling⌠Iâm just curious, thatâs all.â
His mood has changed completely, the same way the tension between you turns palpable after your question rings in the air. âItâs not something I want to think about.â
Regret starts to feast on your heart, causing you to feel remorseful for bringing this topic to the table. âIâm sorryâŚâ You kiss his lips once, hoping it will ease whatever storm rages in his chest, if only for a little. âIâll rephrase the question, okay? Have you ever wondered about having me as your shadow? Even if it was only a fleeting thought, did that possibility ever occur to you?â
His jaw remains clenched tight. Altering the words doesnât change the fact that you still die in this scenario, and he wonât allow himself to walk down that path, even if it is only an imaginary situation. âI would never turn you into a shadow.â Jinwoo doesnât answer whether he has thought about it or not. All he informs you is the decision he had made many, many years ago. âYouâre not a possession. You're a personâmy person. And as much as I love the idea of having you by my side forever, it would be the worst thing. Losing your humanity and free will⌠I could never do that to you.â
You nibble on your bottom lip. His sincerity, the way his voice quivers a little when he utters his words, they bring joy to you, spreading warmth to your every nerve. But even so, you cannot deny that thereâs a part of you that turns crestfallen from his answer. The same side of you that thinks:Â
So⌠heâd rather let me go forever than have a part of me with him..?Â
âYouâre so kind, arenât you?â You say in a voice barely above a whisper, your heart weighing you down like an anchor. âIf I were you⌠If I had the power to make you stay when God takes you away from me⌠I wouldâve turned you into my shadow without a second thought. Thatâs just how much I canât bear the thought of losing you. I know itâs selfish, I know itâs cruel, and I know you wonât be the same person as you are now, but⌠I just canât imagine a life without you.â
His expression softens as he takes in your words, his joy unfolding like a flower at the thought of you ready to defy the Gods just to be with him. But you donât own this power. You donât know how terrifying it could be, the consequences it brings, the darkness that surrounds him, the sins that gnaw at his humanity.Â
âSweetheart, listenâŚâ Jinwoo brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers gently stroking your cheek. âThe truth is⌠I have thought about it. I think Iâve mentioned it beforeâhow scared I am of losing you. I dread every second that passes by when youâre not standing next to me, so, yes, of course, Iâd considered that possibility before, more times than Iâd like to admit. Itâs the only way I know to keep you with me, as of now. But each time the thought popped into my head, the more I came to realize that⌠I could never do that to you. I wonât take away your freedom, your personality, your desire⌠If you became my shadow, you wouldnât be able to talk to me, and youâd be bound to obey my command no matter what.â
âBut Beru can talk to you. That means I can do it too one day, right?â
âBeru can talk because heâs a high-rank soldier. If you were turned into one, you wouldnât be, and you wouldnât get any chance to increase your rank because I would never allow you to go to battle. I wouldnât be able to stand the sight of you getting hurt. And then youâd start feeling that you lost your purpose, not being able to serve me the way my other soldiers could. And Iâd be constantly worried to death, not knowing what you were thinking. Iâd start wondering if you truly felt happy that I resurrected you, or if you felt trapped with me, that you wished to move on.â
It only dawns on you, then, just how much your husband has thought about this through. You might have asked him out of curiosity, but Jinwoo already thinks about it as a possibility, one that he chooses to decline no matter what. The pain of losing you would strike deeper than a javelin through the chest, but heâd rather carry that wound for eternity than be shackled by the guilt of turning his beloved into anything but human. Â
He draws you toward him, eliminating every inch of space between you. âI love you,â he whispers near your ear, his face twisted in agony. His arms ensnare you by the shoulders, embracing you so closely as if youâd vanish into thin air if he werenât holding onto you tightly enough. âI love you so much, Sweetheart. I would do anything to keep you safe. Iâd die a thousand deaths just to protect you, so please⌠Donât talk about leaving me.â
You feel tears filling your sockets before you know it, and you can blame your pregnancy hormones for it, but you know you wouldnât have felt this way if it wasnât for the heartbreak in his voice. âIâm sorryâŚâ You wrap your arms around him, your voice a quivering murmur as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. âIâm sorry I brought this upâŚâ
âItâs all right.â He kisses your temple, his hand skating up and down your spine. âI know you were just curious.â
You're grateful that you can keep your tears from breaking. You pull away, doleful. âI completely ruined the mood, huh?â
He chuckles softly. âNo, you didnât. Come here.â Guiding you toward him, your husband raises himself to sit on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard as he gathers you in his lap. âYou okay?â
You answer with a weak nod.Â
Youâre not okay, not really, he can tell. Jinwoo tucks a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear, his smile soft with a hint of melancholy. He hopes a little chaff would lighten the tension. âSo, Miss Necromancer. Youâd turn me into your shadow in a heartbeat, huh?â
âWell, no, not anymore,â you pout a little. âI understand how you feel now. I wouldnât want something like that to happen to you, too.â
âWell, thatâs disappointing. I was wishing youâd stay selfish.â He settles his hands on the curve of your hips, eliciting fire upon your skin even with your nightgown staying in between. âIâm strong, you know. If you turned me into your shadow, I would be able to talk to you just like this. I could protect you. I could always be with you, hidden in your shadow. And we could do so, so many things together. Fun things.ââhis words skate over the shell of your earââDirty things.ââhis lips moving lower to brush a featherlight kiss to the spot below your lobeââWherever we want.ââdown to your jawlineââAnytime we want.ââto your neckââHowever we want.â He ends his journey with a wet kiss on your bare shoulder, his tongue pressing flat against your skin, his teeth scraping deep enough to make you squirm but far from bruising you.
You giggle amidst your tattered breaths. âYou sound so happy about it.â
âOf course I do, baby.â His smirk grows. âYou want me to be with you for eternity. Iâve never felt so wanted.â He leans close, his lips a mere inch away from yours. âDo you still have depressing questions to ask, or can I entertain you with the things Iâd do to you if I became your shadow?â Unlike him, who can easily put a veil on his troubled emotions for the sake of your happiness, your worry still shows no matter how much you try to conceal it. Noticing that, he cups your cheek. âWhat is it?â
You shake your head, forcing out a smile. âNothing.â
He can see right through it, knowing that youâre holding back for his sake. Kissing you briefly on the lips, he says, âGo ahead and ask, love. Itâs all right.â
Your hesitation halts you for another second before you choose to come clean. âSince you said you wouldnât turn me into your shadow⌠If I diâif something happened to me,â you quickly correct yourself. âAnd I could no longer be with you⌠Would you ever consider⌠remarrying someone else?â
He stops. âWhat?â
âB-because, you knowâour daughter will need a mother figure and I⌠I donât want you to feel lonely andâŚâ You start to panic, cursing yourself internally for being such a fucking idiot. Yes, you were curious about it, but stillâwhat the hell was that question?! Perhaps it was born out of your desperation to be consoled. You understand clearly how your husband chooses to honor your death instead of keeping your soul trapped with him, and yet, loneliness shrouds you, still. This is you seeking some form of reassurance. This is you trying to heal the thought of being separated, of being⌠left behind. Itâs pathetic, you know that, and now that the words have flown past your mouth, you feel a hundred times worse. âN-never mind. I was being stupid, Iâm sorry.â
As you twist restlessly on his lap, your face burning with shame, Jinwoo watches you with nothing but solemnity written in his eyes. He doesnât laugh at you, nor does he find this situation amusing in the slightest. If you think heâd move on with his life after your deathâif you think thereâs even a tiny part of him that could forget you, the center of his universe, youâre awfully mistaken.
He holds your face with one hand, his touch possessive, his eyes intense, filled with promise. âI would never marry anyone else.â The resolution in his voice stops your heart. âNo one could ever replace you, Sweetheart, you know that. And our daughterâŚâ He pauses. He knows that a motherâs role in a family is crucial, and he doubts he could fill your shoes no matter how hard he tries, but he just canât accept having someone else in his heart, in his home, when she doesnât own your face, your personality, your sweet kiss, your gentle touch, your everything. âI would do anything for her. I would give her all my love, everything I could offer. But I promise you, I would never remarry. Youâre the only one for me. You always have, and youâll always be, even if you wereââ He chokes on the word, his voice turning quieter when he continues, ââŚno longer here with me.â
The same quiver that runs through your fingertips now dances on your lips. âYouâre the only one for me, tooâŚâ
His mouth is on yours in an instant, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to remind himself that none of this scenario is true, nor will it happen anytime soon. No, heâll never allow it to happen. Heâll find a way to save you, even if it means sacrificing his own life for it.Â
The kiss ends, but none of you finds the will to break free from each otherâs embrace, his voice low and cracking with emotion when he speaks. âYou're the only one whoâs been in my heart and mind. You're everything to me. Nothing could ever change that, Sweetheart. Nothing.â
âI know,â you plant a chaste kiss on his lips once more. âI feel the same way. And I figured youâd say that, but⌠I just wanted to hear it in person.â
He mirrors your smile, just as tender, understanding that some feelings are meant to be spoken as a promise to chase away all fears and doubts in your chest. âAnd did I answer it well?â
âYou answered it perfectly.â You tilt your head slightly to the side, brushing your lips against the dip of his palm. âThank you, Jin. No more depressing questions, I promise.â
He feels lighter, his face much more relaxed. âNo more depressing questions,â he echoes with a playful smile. âWhatâs up with all the negative thoughts? You were being all playful before.â
âIâm sorry,â you heave a heavy sigh. âItâs just the pregnancy hormones talking, I guess. You know how it is. I can feel like I wanna bawl my eyes out one second, then beat someone to a pulp the next.â
âIf those are the only two options available, let's go with crying. You look pretty when you cry.â
Grabbing him by his jaws, you narrow your eyes playfully at him. "I donât know, Husband, option two sounds really good right now.â
âSorry, sorry,â he chuckles in relief, seeing you return to the person you were before. He takes your hand away, intertwining it together with his own. âIs it my turn to ask questions now?â
âHmm, not yet. One more question, and then you can go.â
âSo demanding,â he scrunches his nose cutely. âAll right, ask me.âÂ
It only takes a second for you to ponder. âWhat is the one thing I do that you like the most?â
âOne thing you do?â He pretends to ruminate just to tease, elevating the suspense. With one corner of his lips tilting higher than the other, he plays with the thin strap of your nightgown, twisting it around his finger before he moves closer. âYou want me to be completely honest with you, baby girl?â
Shivers run through you as his hot breath skims over your collarbone, the tip of his nose brushing against the juncture of your neck and shoulder. âO-of course.â
âHmmâŚâ You can almost feel his mouth on your neck as he purrs, but he doesnât kiss you there just yet, maintaining the infinitesimal space between his lips and your skin to drive you crazy. âI think I love it whenâŚâ He kneads the supple flesh of your thigh. âYouâre so needy for me.â
You nearly flinch when he, without warning, clasps his mouth firmly against the side of your throat. The way his deep, husky voice vibrates on your skin, the lightest touch of his tongue against your pulsating veinâitâs starting to be a bit too much. âN-Needy? I donât think Iâve ever acted that way before.â
âOh, really?â Your husband pulls away with one of his eyebrows raised, a little amused that youâre denying it. His hand slithers around your waist, his nails raking against the fabric, so eager to tear it apart. âYou've never been needy, Sweetheart? Never once asked me to pay attention to you, touch you, hold you, make you feel good?â
You gulp, face aflame. âNoâŚâ Seeing how your answer doesnât sound convincing in the slightest, you divert the topic. âWhy do you even like it when Iâm being needy anyway?â
He reciprocates with a sly smirk, his eyes traversing down from your neck, your collarbone, to your cleavage before he flicks them back to your face. Still with his smirk intact, his voice turns low and dark, dripping with desire. âBecause I love knowing that you want me. I love having that power over you. The knowledge that you need me, crave my touch, that I can give you pleasure and take care of you. It drives me mad.â
His gaze locks onto your face, taking a moment to appreciate your beauty, the changes in your expression, and the anticipation in your eyes. âBesidesâŚâ Two of his lean fingers trace your jawline before they rest on your chin, lifting it up to take a more thorough look at your features. You appear so innocent under the soft, golden glow of your night light, so adorable and pretty, almost doll-like, and it awakens something primal within him. Something that heâs afraid he wonât be able to tame should you continue staring at him like this. âDo you know how cute you look when you want me to touch you? When youâre whining and begging for me to give you what you want?â
You canât form a word, hypnotized under his gaze, controlled even before he begins pulling on your strings. He traps your chin, tugging it low enough for you to part your lips for him. âAnd this face youâre making right nowâŚâ He breathes out heavily as lust starts to coat his irises. âI want to ruin you so badly.â Heâs already thinking about it, to run his tongue across the seam of your lips before he pushes it inside, tasting you, devouring you. âI want to make a mess out of you, to mark you as mine in places that everyone can see.âÂ
A certain glow in his eyes causes the soft hairs on your nape to rise. Every nerve of your body pleads for his touch, but he wonât grant your wish just yet. âBut I have to be patient, donât I, Sweetheart?â Jinwoo continues with a glimpse of cockiness written on his lips, knowing he already has you dancing in the palm of his hand. âAfter all, the game just started. AlthoughâŚâ He leans close, his lips barely touching your ear as he speaks hushedly. âI doubt I could resist it if my sweet girl starts acting all needy for me now.â
You force out a scoff even when your body is eager to have his taste in your mouth. âYou wish.â
He simpers at your reaction, entertained by your desperate attempt to mask embarrassment. âDonât try to deny it, love. I can see right through you. The way youâre clenching your legs togetherâ âhis hand grips your thigh, fingers pressing deep into your skinâ âthe way you bite your lip,â he kisses you, catching your lower lip between his own. He keeps it brief, just the lightest of bites and the purest of kisses, but the soft, sultry moan he makes on purpose is anything but innocent. âYouâre already getting needy, arenât you?â
Your stomach somersaults at how his smirk breaks so naturally, so seductively on his lips. Afraid youâll succumb to your desire, you push a hand to his face, returning the safe space between you. âYour turn to ask me now.â
Jinwoo lets out a small laugh at your childish act, gently prying your hand away from him. âSomeoneâs avoiding the question,â he says, amused. âAll right, my turn. Iâm going to make sure you answer mine, okay, Sweetheart?â
The subtle threat only excites you. âOkay. Just donât ask anything weird. Or perverted.â
Your husband chuckles, diving his head back to the dip of your neck again. He tugs on your strap with his teeth, his hand now brazenly glides over your chest, feeling the way your sensitive bud hardens under the satin but leaving it ignoredâfor now. âBut youâd like the perverted ones, wouldnât you?â His grin blooms on your skin before he places a warm, open-mouthed kiss on your clavicle. Your fingers clench into fists, doing everything you can to suppress your moan. When he breaks away, he carries himself nonchalantly as if he didnât just grind his teeth against your skin a second ago. âDonât worry, baby. Iâll behave,â he finishes with a coquettish grin. âFor your sake.â
âJ-Just give me the damn question.â
âPatience is a virtue, my love. Let me think for a second. I donât want to come up with something⌠boring.â His gaze turns playful when it meets yours, referring to your earlier question.
âAre you making fun of me again?â
âMe? Make fun of you? Never,â he coos as his smirk proves otherwise. âIf you could change one part of my body, what would it be? But, of course, if you think everything is perfect, you can say that, too.â
You send him a flat stare. âYour dick. Wouldâve liked it better if it was bigger.â
He laughs out loud at your answer, his seductive smirk morphing into a perfect view of his marbled teeth. He appears so young like this, refreshing and sweet. âOh, baby, you know I donât lack in that area, donât you? If you were saying something about my face, I wouldâve believed you, but thatâŚâ He snorts in amusement. âCome on now.â
âOh, youâre so annoying.â You throw a playful jab at his stomach. Well, it is true that heâs packing more than necessary down there, but⌠Youâre not going to give him that satisfaction, are you? âWhere does this confidence even come from?â
He chuckles, catching your hand. âOf course, Iâm confident. After allâŚâ His fingers slide past your elbow, up to your shoulder, traveling over soft skin until they cup the side of your neck. His thumb rubs over your lips, his eyes misted with desire when he says, âYou look too satisfied most of the time. If not, always.â
You can feel his digit applying pressure on your lips, wanting you to take his finger inside and give him a preview of what you can do with your mouth later when he makes you drop to your knees. You curl your hand around his wrist, a quick reminder for him to behave. âMaybe itâs just because youâre good at using it, not because of the size itself.â
Jinwoo smiles almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming in the dimness of your bedroom. âCareful now. Iâm gonna get cocky.â
âIâm not complimenting you, dummy. Iâm trying to make an argument!â
Your attitude only amuses him further. âOh, no, Sweetheart, I can tell youâre complimenting me. Donât worry, I know Iâm the best. And I know you know that, too.â
You roll your eyes despite your heart thrashing against your ribcages in response. âNext question.â
âIs my dick really your final answer?â
âNext!â
He chortles, as deep and as soft as he speaks. He can honestly play with you like this for hours. Watching you turn flustered, all fidgety and cute, solely because of him⌠Thatâs the kind of satisfaction he seeks after a long day. âYou know there's a consequence you need to pay for not answering that one honestly, right? Iâm starting to think maybe you want to be punished.âÂ
Yes. Yes. Yes. God, yes. âOf course not,â you scoff. âI just donât feel like answering âcause youâre being annoying.â
âChanging the rules as you please, huh? That does sound like you. Always not playing fair.â But he likes it. Oh, he loves it when youâre not playing fair. It gives him more reasons to teach you a lesson afterward. âFine, if youâre so stubborn about it, then Iâll ask you this: if you had to choose one of my features to keep, what would it be?â
A question like this again? Is he fishing for compliments? Thatâs a bit cute, you canât lie, seeing how heâs so needy for your praise. Unfortunately, you have a role to play and a facade to maintain. âThatâs hardly any different.â You exaggerate your complaint with a snort. âWhy canât you just ask me what I want to have for my birthday or something?â
âBecause I already know what you want,â he replies with a cock of his head. Arrogance has never looked this good on a man before.Â
âYou do?â You don't think youâve ever given any clues about what you want for your present this year.
âMm-hmm. And I canât wait to show it to you.â Lifting you by the waist, he shifts your weight until you stand on your knees before him, his face now on the same level as your chest. He tugs on your strap, watching it slide off your shoulder until it pools around your elbow. Hungry eyes feast on your exposed skin, one side of your chest caressed by the cold air before the heat takes over in the shape of his hand.Â
Jinwoo kneads your supple mound in his large palm, his fingers squeezing, teasing, itching to do more as desire mists his gaze. He encloses his mouth firmly around your breast, groaning softly at the taste of your skin on his tongue. The vibration runs straight south to your core, almost making you writhe when he combines it with a gentle nip of his teeth.
âIn fact, Iâll give it to you all day, baby,â he suckles on your chest, tongue flicking against your protruding tip. âAll night.â He moves to plant a wet, lingering kiss on the underside, breaking goosebumps along your skin. âIâll make you the happiest woman in the world, youâll see.â
Your breathing quickens under his ministration, your fingers grasping tightly against the roots of his hair as he maps his way to your other breast. You feel so much more sensitive today, your toes curling even from the lightest suck of your bud. Is it because he hasnât touched you in a while? Or perhaps your pregnancy? You honestly canât care less. âMy birthday presentâahâItâs not s-sex, is it?â
He chuckles a moment before he unclasps his mouth. A smear of red rose blooms upon your skin, ready to turn purple by the morning. âNo, honey, itâs not sex,â he looks up with his head tilted slightly to the side, staring at you with stray hairs falling over his pretty eyes, his gaze as titillating as his sultry smile. âCould be, if you want to.â
You chew on your lip. You can play hard to get as always, but you know nothing drives him faster to the edge than you acting so docile and submissive for him. This game of push-and-pull has been going on for a while. It should be about time you have a little fun of your own, right? âI think Iâd like that, too⌠To have you as my present.â
It stuns him for a second, your confession. His eyes darken, turning as pitch-black as the sky thatâs been deprived of its jewels.Â
Jinwoo draws a shaky breath, his grip on your waist growing alarmingly tight. He wants to describe it, all the filthy things he wants to do to you, but he knows if he just lets one slip outâwhen heâs already in the state of losing his sanityâheâll end up demonstrating each one of them right here, right now. And youâre trying to keep this game innocent, aren't you? Is there a reason why?Â
He can see the desire in your eyes, the need to be with him, but just how far are you willing to go? Just how far can he touch you, be rough with you? He needs you to start it first, to give him more than just a sign. He wants to make sure that youâre ready. Until then, until he can hear you say what it is that you desire, heâll respect this boundary between you, no matter how thin it is. He wonât cross it till you beg him for it.
But⌠A filthy thought resurfaces, tugging on the corner of his lips. A little poke canât hurt.
***
Read Part 3 here
#sung jinwoo#jinwoo smut#solo leveling#jinwoo x reader#jinwoo x you#sung jinwoo x reader#sung jin woo#jinwoo x y/n#jinwoo sung x reader#jinwoo#sung jinwoo x you#sung jinwoo smut#sung jin woo x reader#sung jinwoo x y/n#jinwoo fluff#solo leveling smut#solo leveling fics#kana.fics#fics.pillowtalk
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You Belong With Me / Part 3
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader
Summary: Max never believed in soulmates until he met you. The only problem? Youâre already dating Lando. Somewhere along the way, between late-night calls, inside jokes, and everything in between, you and Max became best friends. He tells himself itâs enough. That the friendship is worth the ache. But as your connection deepens, Max starts to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you feel it too.
Content Warning: This part contains explicit smut đ
Authorâs Note: This part got so long, Iâm not even sure anyone will make it to the end, but honestly I think it might be my favourite thing Iâve written so I really hope you enjoy it. <3
9.3k words / Part 2 / Masterlist
The plane lands just past midnight.
Florence is hushed, blanketed in the kind of quiet that feels older than the city itself, bathed in a soft golden haze as Max steps out into the unfamiliar stillness.
Thereâs no media frenzy waiting. No team handlers. No blinding lights or post-race adrenaline. Just the low hum of traffic in the distance and a sky full of stars.
He doesnât waste time. Picks up the rental himself, punches the address you once said in passing into his phone. His hands on the wheel and the dark hills unfolding in front of him.
The drive winds through narrow roads and moonlit hills, past sleeping vineyards and shuttered cafes, the kind of places that donât make it onto maps. The further he goes, the more the world falls away until itâs just him, the engine, and the memory of your voice.
Eventually the road narrows to gravel, and the headlights sweep across the farmhouse, itâs exactly as you described it. Tucked between olive trees, terracotta roof faded and soft, shutters slightly askew, and as he pulls up, heart in his throat, thereâs no sign of you.
No lights. No movement. Just silence.
He cuts the engine and climbs out slowly, heart already tightening in his chest. He walks the path to the front gate, stops with one hand on the wood, and listens for movement, for breath, for anything.
Thereâs nothing, but you were here. He can feel it in the air, like heat after a fire.
Your shadow is everywhere, in the wild lavender, the ceramic mug sitting abandoned on a low stone wall by the front steps, half-full of rainwater. One of the windows is cracked open, a citronella candle half-burned on the porch. All of it is too familiar, too deliberate to be coincidence.
He sinks onto the bench beneath one of the olive trees, worn wood groaning softly beneath him. The silence wraps around his shoulders, heavy and intimate. Cicadas drone in the distance, and the wind shifts through the branches above, carrying with it something that almost feels like memory.
Max sits still for a long time, elbows on his knees, hands dangling. He doesnât cry. He doesnât speak. For the first time since that party where he first saw you, since the first look, the first laugh, the first slow fall, he feels like giving up.
Then he hears it.
Footsteps, slow, hesitant, crunching softly over the gravel path behind him.
He doesnât move at first, afraid heâs imagined it. That his mind, starved and desperate, has conjured something it canât have, but then a shadow shifts in his periphery, and he turns.
And sees you.
Youâre in linen. Your hair is down, sleep-mussed and soft, no makeup, no armour. You stop the moment your eyes meet.
Time slows in that unbearable, impossible way it always does right before everything changes. Neither of you speak. The world shrinks to the space between you, wide enough to hold everything unsaid.
Max stands slowly. His legs feel unsteady, heart hammering in his ribs.
His voice is rough when it finally comes. âHi.â he says, because itâs all he can manage.
You blink, like youâre not sure heâs real. âWhat⌠how did youâ?â
âYou told me once,â he says, voice shaking. âWhere youâd go if you needed to breathe.â
You swallow, throat working and shake your head, like none of this makes sense.
âI thought youâd hate me,â you whisper.
Max steps closer. âI did.â
Your face crumples.
Then he adds, softer, âFor about five minutes.â
You let out a breathy laugh thatâs halfway to a sob. Youâre trying not to fall apart in front of him, and itâs breaking his heart all over again. âMaxââ
âDonât,â he says gently. âNot yet. Just⌠let me look at you for a minute.â
So you do. You let him take in every part of you, the tired eyes, the sun-kissed skin, the part of your lip you still chew when youâre nervous.
Heâs wanted this moment for so long thought about what heâd say, what heâd demand, he wants to ask a thousand questions.
Wants to demand why you left without a word. Why you didnât call. Why he wasnât enough to make you stay.
Wants to tell you he waited, that he searched, that he never stopped choosing you even when you couldnât choose him. But thatâs not why he came, and standing here now, with you in front of him and your eyes full of too many things to name, none of that matters. Not yet, because youâre here and you havenât run.
So instead, he just says. âYou look like home.â
Your lips part, trembling, and your eyes shine in the dark not from tears alone, but recognition. From that feeling you never let yourself name and Max knows heâs not too late.
You sit on the low stone wall just beneath the olive tree, above the stars scatter across the sky, sharp, ancient, impossibly far, and beside you Max is quiet, like heâs afraid you might vanish again if he moves too fast.
You speak first, voice rough from silence and distance. âI didnât mean to hurt you.â
His jaw tightens, but he nods, slow and deliberate. âBut you did.â
Your lips press together. You nod too, just once. âI know.â
The quiet that follows isnât angry, itâs tired. Worn from being stretched too long between what you felt and what you couldnât admit. You keep your eyes on your hands, fingers twisting in your lap.
Max finally breaks the silence again, his voice low. âWhy didnât you tell me it was over with him?â
âI didnât know how.â Your voice is small, cracked. âI didnât leave him for you, at least not entirely. I left because I wasnât myself anymore, because Iâd twisted myself into something I didnât recognise.â
Heâs still watching you, still listening in the way only Max ever has. Fully. Quietly. Without needing to interrupt.
���And the worst part,â you murmur, âis I knew youâd come. I knew that if I told you I needed you, you wouldnât even hesitate.â
âI would have,â he says, voice barely above a whisper. âIn a second.â
âI wasnât ready for that,â you admit. âI wasnât ready to be loved like that.â
Max leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands dangling. He stares out at the dark, but his voice is steady when he speaks. âAnd now?â
You donât answer right away. It takes you a moment to lift your gaze, to meet his eyes through the dark.
âNow I canât stop thinking about you,â you say, and your voice splinters in the middle. âEvery minute of every day. Even when I try. Even when it hurts. Especially then.â
His throat works as he swallows. âYou think it didnât kill me?â
âI know it did. I felt it Max. Every second you did⌠It tore me apart too.â
You pause, breathing through it. Then you add, âI left because I thought I was saving us from something impossible, but all I did was make it worse and ruin everything.â
âYou didnât ruin it.â He turns to you fully now, knees brushing yours. âI donât think thatâs possible.â
You glance up, startled. âHow do you know?â
He takes your hand. âBecause youâre still the only person Iâd fly across the world to find.â
Tears slip down your cheeks and Max leans in, forehead brushing yours and everything stills. The world shrinks to this, his breath against your cheek, your fingers tangled with his, the way his presence makes everything feel like it might be okay again.
âDonât run again,â he murmurs, barely audible. âNot from me.â
You shake your head, voice trembling. âI donât want to.â
He closes his eyes, inhales your breath, your skin, your presence.
Then you whisper, âCome inside.â
You donât go far once you're inside, just to the edge of the kitchen where the counter meets the low arch of the hallway, and his body still feels like itâs buzzing from being near you.
The air inside the farmhouse is warm, lived-in. Thereâs a faint scent of lemon soap and woodsmoke, like youâve been trying to scrub out the ache. A book lies facedown on the arm of the couch. A blanket is half-draped across the floor. Max takes it all in with quiet eyes, like every object tells a story he missed while you were gone.
He doesn't touch you yet.
Just stands there, a few steps away, his hands hanging loose by his sides.
âI canât believe you really came here,â you say. âI didnât expect you to find me.â
Max looks at you for a long time. âYou shouldâve known I wouldnât stop looking.â
You exhale slowly. The silence that stretches between you now isnât empty, itâs full. Of missed chances. Of too-late texts and unsent voice notes. Of all the things you almost said and all the times he nearly said them back.
âI thought about this a thousand times,â he says softly, eyes searching yours. âWhat Iâd say. What youâd look like. Whether itâd still feel the same.â
You blink, swallowing hard. âAnd does it?â
He breathes in, shaky. âItâs worse.â
You flinch, just slightly.
He notices and his voice gentles. âNot bad worse. Just⌠more real⌠before I didnât let myself want it, at least not like this, but now? I donât know how to breathe without knowing what we are. What we could be.â
You move first, walking toward the small kitchen table and resting your hands on the back of a chair. âI used to sit right there after sunset and convince myself I was doing the right thing.â
He follows you. âDid it feel like the right thing?â
You shake your head, staring down at the worn wood. âNo. But I didnât know how to stop running without ruining something else.â
âYou really thought thatâd work?â His voice is quiet but edged with disbelief. âThat Iâd forget?â
âI was trying to protect you,â you say.
He doesnât respond at first just watches you like heâs trying to read your mind. Finally, he murmurs, âYou couldâve called.â
âI typed out a dozen messages,â you sigh. âI just couldnât hit send,â you whisper and continue, âI missed telling you things. Stupid things, like what I ate for lunch or what episode I was on or who annoyed me that day. Iâd still type it out sometimes but I never sent it.â
âI wouldâve read every word.â
âI know.â
Max leans on the opposite chair. âYou thought you were protecting me?â
You look up, finally meeting his eyes. âI was trying to. I thought if I disappeared, itâd give us space to forget. To let us go.â
He doesnât blink. âYou really thought we could? I could?â
âIâve spent every day wondering if I made the wrong choice,â you admit. âBut this whole time it was always you. I just didnât know what to do or what to say anymore.â
His voice cracks on the next words. âI thought Iâd never see you again and I was trying to be okay with it. I really was but everything, even the good stuff, stopped feeling like anything if you werenât there.â
âI thought disappearing would make it easier for both of us,â you say. âI thought that if I pulled away, it would fade.â
He shakes his head. âIt never faded.â
You stare deep into his eyes, searching. âIt didnât me for either, not even a little bit. If anything I feel it more.â
Max straightens, walks around the table, and stops in front of you. He reaches out, slow and cautious, brushing his fingers down your arm. The touch is gentle. You press your palm against your chest.
âI didnât come here for answers,â he says. âOr an apology.â
You swallow hard. âThen why did you?â
He leans in, forehead nearly touching yours. âBecause I couldnât spend another second wondering if you still felt it too⌠if you ever did.â
When you speak, it comes out like a confession. âOf course I did. I never stopped.â
Max closes his eyes for a moment, just breathing with you.
He presses a kiss to your forehead first.
You melt into him, your hands sliding up his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like you need the proof that he's here, that you're allowed to have this.
âI missed your voice,â you murmur into his collar. âMissed being your person.â
He pulls back just enough to look at you, to search your face like itâs a map back to everything heâs been trying not to lose.
âYou still are,â he says quietly. âIf you want to be.â
And when you nod not hurried or desperate but sure, thatâs when it finally breaks.
He reaches for you, slowly, like heâs still asking for permission. His fingers brush your jaw, then slip behind your neck, his thumb resting just below your ear.
Your voice is steady when you ask, âMax?â
His eyes find yours, glassy and burning. âYeah?â
âYou can kiss me now.â
His whole body shudders like something unclenches deep in his chest. He leans in starved and reverent and yours. His mouth meets yours like itâs something heâs spent months studying from a distance, and when you finally kiss him back full and deep and with everything youâve been holding in itâs not soft itâs trembling with the ache of what it took to get here.
His lips press to yours like heâs trying to memorise the feeling in case itâs all a dream, like he doesnât trust it yet, not fully, not until you open for him and wrap your arms around his neck and he hears the sound you make when you finally let yourself have him.
His other hand finds your waist, pulls you closer, and suddenly youâre wrapped around each other like you donât know how to not be. You make a noise in your throat, not quite a sob, not quite a moan, and Max swallows it like a lifeline.
Itâs devastating.
His hands bury in your hair. Yours grip the hem of his shirt like you need it to breathe. The kiss is messy, gasping, months of longing crashing into the space of a single breath. You whimper into his mouth and feel him flinch, like even the sound of your need is too much. He groans into your mouth, the sound low and shattered, and you drink it in like itâs the only language you speak.
He pulls back just enough to whisper, âTell me this is real.â
You press your forehead to his. âItâs real.â
âIâm scared to lose this again,â he admits.
You shake your head. âYou wonât.â
He nods once, eyes closed. His lips find yours again, not just a kiss now, but a claiming. A homecoming. A break in the storm.
Neither of you stops it, because finally, finally, thereâs nothing in the way. Everything that comes next the heat, the hands, the aching need is no longer tangled in uncertainty.
Itâs a choice.
This is where the rest begins.
The moment you reach the top of the stairs, everything snaps.
His hands are on you in an instant, your jaw, your waist, the slope of your back. He kisses you like heâs starving, like he doesnât know where to touch first but needs to touch everywhere. Youâre both trembling with it, months of stolen glances, near-confessions, and the ache of almost being something.
You gasp into his mouth, fingers fisting in the fabric of his hoodie as his thigh slots between yours, pressing up hard, deep.
âI canât believe we almost missed thisâ he growls against your throat, voice raw and low and furious in the best way.
Your nails dig into his shoulders. âI thought I was protecting you.â
He bites your jaw, not hard enough to hurt, but close. âFuck that.â
Then heâs kissing you again, deeper now, teeth and tongue and need. Messier. Full of everything youâve both been holding back. His tongue claims your mouth while his hands slide beneath your shirt, fingers trailing up your ribs until they find your underside of your breasts.
He pauses.
Just for a breath.
Like the weight of the moment catches up with him. Then he exhales, low and guttural, and cups you fully.
His palms mold around the soft swell of your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples, testing how you react, how quickly you fall apart under his hands.
You gasp, arching into his touch, a breathy moan slipping from your lips.
The sound makes him groan against your mouth, deep and rough, it cuts him wide open.
âFuck,â he mutters, voice breaking. âIâve thought about this so many times.â
He squeezes gently, then again, making sure youâre real. Like heâs scared heâll forget the shape, the weight, the way your breath hitches when he rolls your nipples between his fingers.
Youâre burning now, every nerve on fire, body pressing closer, hips rolling instinctively against the hard line of him.
Max doesnât stop. Doesnât falter. His hands stay there, exploring, claiming, learning you.
Youâre gasping, clutching at his hoodie like you need to hold onto something or else youâll drown.
You stumble to the bedroom without breaking contact.
He backs you toward the bed slowly, fingers brushing over bare skin, and it hits you both at the same time.
This is really happening.
He steps back just enough to look at you, eyes wild, chest heaving, shirt half-off already. He pulls it the rest of the way off, then stands there for a beat, staring at you as if youâre the only thing in the world.
âYou want this?â he says, voice hoarse, fingers tugging at the waistband of your clothes. âTell me. Say it.â
âI want all of it.â you breathe. âI want you.â
Thatâs all it takes.
He strips fast, shirt first, then pants, his cock is hard and aching and he doesnât bother hiding it. Doesnât want to. Heâs watching you the whole time like heâs daring you to look away.
You donât.
At the foot of the bed, he pauses.
Only for a second.
Because seeing you like this, breathless, hair messy, chest rising and falling like youâve already been fucked makes something primal kick in. He pulls your shirt off with a single rough tug, then strips the rest of you like heâs unwrapping something holy and already half-damned.
The second your clothes are off, heâs on you, his mouth on your chest, your stomach, your thighs. He kisses his way down your body like itâs holy ground, fingers sliding through your slick and groaning at the heat of you.
He kisses your neck, your shoulders, the space just beneath your ribs. Your fingers bury in his hair as he lowers himself between your legs, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh, testing what months of longing tastes like.
âJesus,â he murmurs into your skin. âYouâre fucking shaking.â
âIâve needed you,â you whisper. âThis. Max, please.â
Thatâs the first time he hears it, his name like that. Whispered from your lips, soft and pleading.
It nearly undoes him.
He swears, low and vicious, and kisses your inner thigh again, teeth grazing skin. âYou donât even know what you do to me.â
âShow me,â you whisper, and he does.
Tongue flattening against your clit, fingers sliding in, curling just right. Your hips buck, hands flying to his hair, moaning loud, too loud, and it only makes him more brutal. He wants to hear you lose control. Wants it messy. Wants you coming on his face and begging for more. Your hand fists in his hair, pulling, and he groans like it only makes him harder.
But when your thighs start to tremble, he pulls back, eyes dark and blown wide. âI want to be inside you when you come.â
You nod and he doesnât waste another second.
Lines himself up, one hand anchoring your hip, the other tangling in your hair as he pushes into you all at once.
You cry out, not from pain, but from relief. From the ache that breaks loose in your chest. From the months of silence that collapse into this moment. From the way he fills you, presses into you like heâs trying to bury himself in your bones.
âFuck,â he gasps, forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut. âYou feelâJesus, So fucking tightââ
You wrap your arms around his neck, locking him there, pulling him deeper. âMove⌠pleaseâ
He doesnât move gently.
He fucks.
Hard.
Deep.
Desperate.
The bed rocks under you, the headboard slamming against the wall in time with every snap of his hips. Itâs overwhelming. Raw. The kind of first time you only get once. His pace is relentless, unyielding, every snap of his hips drives you higher, your back arching, mouth falling open in a cry that doesnât even sound like your own.
Heâs gripping your waist like heâs scared youâll vanish again, rough and possessive, thumbs digging into the soft skin just above your hips. Pressing his forehead to yours, sweat dripping onto your collarbone, breath hot and harsh.
âYou think I didnât feel it every time you looked at me and said nothing?â he pants. âYou think I didnât know you wanted this too?â
âI know,â you whimper. âI know, Maxââ
He cuts you off with his mouth, his tongue sweeping in to claim and consume and steal whatever apology you were about to offer. His mouth finds your collarbone, then your throat. He sucks a bruise there. Then another.
His hand slips between you, thumb finding your clit with practiced pressure. You jolt, legs locking tighter around his waist, body arching into him, pleading for release. His hand tangles in your hair, the other gripping your jaw, forcing you to stay close, to take it.
You cry out, eyes fluttering open, and he groans low in his throat like the sound alone could make him come.
Heâs close. You both are.
You feel it in the way he shudders, in the desperate thrust of his hips, in the way his lips find your ear.
âCome with me,â he groans. âDonât leave me alone in this again.â
Your hands claw at his back, fingertips dragging over the tense muscles there. âIâm right here,â you gasp. âIâm not going anywhereâfuckâMaxââ
The orgasm rips through you like a breaking wave, sharp and shaking, your whole body arched under him.
He follows a second later with a sound thatâs not even a word, just a low, broken groan as he spills inside you, his entire body trembling from the force of it.
He stays inside you, chest pressed to yours, hearts pounding in tandem. His thumb strokes the edge of your jaw like heâs still trying to prove this is real.
You turn your face and kiss his palm. Your fingers find his nape, stroking gently.
His mouth presses to your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, softer now, quieter.
âMine,â he whispers, not even realising he said it out loud.
You pull him tighter against you.
âYours,â you whisper back.
You lie there after, tangled and wrecked and silent. His forehead rests against yours. His hand finds yours beneath the sheet across his chest.
This time, you donât let go.
The next morning the first thing Max registers is warmth.
Not the sun, though thatâs there too, soft, and spilling golden light across the sheets, but you.
Tangled in the sheets beside him, your cheek pressed against his chest, your breath slow and even. One leg draped over his thigh, the tips of your fingers still resting against his ribs like youâd fallen asleep with your hand on his heart.
The second thing he feels is weight.
Not yours. That, he loves. No, itâs the weight in his chest.
Thick. Quiet. Wrong.
It creeps in before he can even open his eyes fully, a gnawing panic already curling in his stomach.
It crashes over him all at once, the way he touched you, the sound of your voice under him, the desperate force, the unforgiving rhythm of his body crashing into yours. The way heâd let months of silence and need and heartbreak pour out of him in one furious rush of skin and teeth and thrusts that had nothing soft left in them.
It wasnât tender. It wasnât slow.
It wasnât what you deserved.
It was too much. Too fast. All teeth and ache and months of grief and silence shoved into one bed.
Youâd said yes. Youâd wanted him. Youâd pulled him into you like you were just as starved, but stillâŚ
His heart stutters under your palm.
He shouldâve been slow, shouldâve worshipped you. Let it be a memory wrapped in gentleness. Let it mean something more than the way his hips slammed into yours like he was trying to erase the distance with force.
Instead, it had been raw. Messy. Borderline unhinged. Like losing you had broken something in him and getting you back shattered the rest.
Max closes his eyes and exhales slowly through his nose.
I didnât savour it.
He shouldâve.
He shouldâve taken his time. Shouldâve memorised every inch of your skin, every breathless laugh, every moment that shouldâve been sacred after the year you spent apart.
Instead, heâd let all the pain, all the jealousy, all the love he didnât know where to put turn him into something too rough. Too greedy. Too afraid.
He shifts, careful not to wake you, and stares up at the ceiling. His arm aches from holding you all night but he doesnât move it. Not yet, because now that he has you, heâs terrified again.
Terrified this was it. That youâll look at him in the daylight and realise last night was a mistake.
You finally had her. And you didnât make it count.
You stir a few minutes later. He feels it before he sees it, the flutter of your lashes against his skin, your leg shifting, the lazy graze of your fingers against his side. Then your voice, sleep-warm and gravelly.
âMax?â
He tenses before he speaks. âYeah.â
You blink up at him, lids still heavy. âYou okay?â
He hesitates, he doesnât understand how you always know when heâs drowning in his own head.
He sits up slowly, dragging a hand down his face. The sheet slips down his torso, cool air brushing against his skin, but he barely feels it.
âI think I fucked it up,â he mutters.
You push up on one elbow. âWhat?â
âLast night,â he says, still not looking at you. âThat was supposed to be... I donât know. Different. Better.â
âBetter how?â you laugh like the thought is ludicrous.
Max runs a hand through his hair. âGentler. Slower. I wanted to show you how much I care, notââ he shakes his head, eyes dark with guilt, âânot fuck you like I hadnât touched a woman in years.â
You pause. âMaxââ
âIt was selfish,â he keeps going. âI didnât think. I justâGod, I was so desperate for you. Iâve spent a year waking up wishing I could hold you, and when I finally got to, I didnât stop long enough to actually feel it.â His eyes are dark with guilt, almost afraid. âIt was too much. Too fast. And IâI knew better. But I couldnât stop. I couldnât slow down. You were finally there, and I just... lost it.â
You sit up beside him, the sheet wrapped around your chest, watching the way his shoulders tense like heâs bracing for something.
âMax, look at me.â
He does. Slowly.
âI wanted that,â you whisper. âI wanted you. All that need and anger and love. All of it.â
âI didnât give you what you deserved.â
âYou gave me what we both needed,â you say, scooting closer, touching his cheek. âThat wasnât about being gentle. That was about finally letting it break. That was release. That was everything we never said finally said with hands and mouths and skin.â
He swallows hard. âIâm scared youâll wake up tomorrow, or the next day, or next week and regret it.â
You shake your head, eyes glistening. âI wonât. And I donât. Maxââ you take his hand, lace your fingers through his, ââwe were wound so tight for so long, there was no way that first time couldâve been slow. It was always going to explode.â
He lets out a quiet, shaky breath.
âAnd now,â you whisper, leaning in to press a kiss to his chest, âwe have all the time in the world to make up for it. Iâm not going anywhere. I swear. We can go slow next time. And the time after that. And the time after that. And every morning we donât have to say goodbye.â
His throat works. He leans into your touch like itâs the only thing keeping him grounded.
âI donât want to get it wrong,â he murmurs. âI just wanted to prove I was worth all of this,â he says.
You kiss him. Soft. Solid. Final.
âYou were,â you whisper against his lips. âYou are. Max, you always were.â
He shakes his head slightly, still not fully convinced. âI was so scared Iâd finally have you and still find a way to mess it up. That Iâd touch you wrong. That itâd be too much. That youâd see something in me and change your mind.â
âHey,â you murmur, fingers slipping into his hair. âI wasnât thinking about any of that. I didnât care how soft or slow it was. I justââ your voice falters, then steadies, ââI just needed to feel you. I needed to know you were real. That I hadnât made all of it up.â
Maxâs brow furrows, emotion flooding every line of his face.
âAnd last night?â you continue. âIt was desperate. It was loud. It was ours. Every second of it. I wanted to crawl out of my skin from missing you and I didnât know how to say it until you were on top of me.â
He lets out a broken laugh.
âI wasnât waiting for perfect,â you say. âI was waiting for you. Whatever form that came in.â
His eyes shine. âBut I didnât slow down. I didnât stop to check. What ifâ?â
âYou didnât,â you interrupt softly. âYou didnât scare me. I wanted it just as badly. You didnât ruin anything. You made me feel again.â
Max nods, finally letting himself believe it, just a little. He leans back against the pillows finally, the fight slowly leaving his body. He still looks stunned, still looks like heâs bracing for impact, but his grip on you softens, hands curling at your waist like he might never let go.
âYou donât have to prove anything,â you add, threading your fingers through his. âYou donât have to earn me. You already have me. Even when I left. Even when I lied to myself. You were it, Max. You are it.â
Then you push him back gently against the pillows, curl into his side again. Max closes his eyes again, because youâre still here, and he doesnât have to chase anymore.
The next few days feel like something out of a dream.
Not just a fantasy, a full-bodied, aching dream Max hasnât let himself believe in for over a year. One where you're real and close and his, where no oneâs calling him to meetings or pulling him toward a plane. Just the two of you tucked into a crooked old farmhouse, the hills blooming soft around you like something out of a painting.
He wakes slow with you in his arms every morning, your body warm and loose against him, face buried in his chest like youâre trying to disappear inside him. He doesnât move until you do. Sometimes he pretends to still be asleep, just to feel you shift, stretch, brush your lips against his shoulder.
The days are lazy and sunlit. He pads barefoot into the kitchen to find you already making coffee, hair mussed, one sleeve falling off your shoulder. He stands behind you at the stove, arms wrapped around your waist, chin hooked over your shoulder like he could live in that exact position forever.
You grin, hand him a chipped mug, and steal a bite of his toast even though youâve got your own. He complains of course, but not really. He likes it, the easiness, the domesticity, the you in his space.
He watches you read on the couch in the afternoons, your legs draped over his lap like itâs always been yours to claim. Your fingers trace idle shapes into his skin, hearts, constellations, maybe a memory you're too shy to say aloud.
He presses kisses to your ankle, your knee, your thigh, not for sex, not always, but just because he can, because youâre here and letting him, and it makes his chest ache with something too big to name.
Sometimes you walk the olive groves together. He hates the bugs, but he loves how you roll your eyes and swat at him with a branch like heâs being dramatic. You trip once on a root and curse in three different languages, and he laughs so hard he almost falls too. You call him a menace. He calls you the best decision heâs ever made.
You make fun of his Australian accent. He pretends to be offended, then kisses you senseless until you're laughing into his mouth.
He holds you constantly. On the couch, in bed, and in the garden he holds you like your body is made of sunlight and heâs starved for warmth. He finds new excuses to touch you every ten minutes, a hand on your hip, a kiss to your shoulder, his head on your stomach while you trace lines through his hair. He watches you brush your teeth and thinks this is what itâs supposed to feel like. Like peace.
He makes love to you like itâs the only thing thatâs ever made sense. Sometimes itâs frantic, all gasps and nails and tangled limbs, like youâre both trying to climb inside each other. Sometimes itâs quiet his forehead pressed to yours, your breath shared like a secret, the rhythm of your bodies more prayer than pleasure.
Sometimes, you just lie there. Skin on skin. No words. Just your fingers interlaced across his chest as the light shifts slowly across the ceiling beams, and you both pretend, for just a second longer, that time isnât moving. That the flight wonât come. That the ache hasnât already started building in your chests, but he feels it too, the clock ticking.
Max doesnât speak about leaving, not once, but he sees it in the way your smile dims a little when the sun starts to set. Feels it in how tightly you grip his hand when you think heâs not paying attention.
Still, you donât talk about when he has to leave and Max clings to every single second like itâs oxygen, because soon, the world will start spinning again.
But not yet.
The night before he leaves, it rains.
Not a storm, not thunder or lightning, soft, unrelenting drizzle that taps against the farmhouse windows. It feels like the sky is trying to hold the moment in place, as if it knows something is ending soon and wants to slow it down.
Youâre in bed wrapped in sheets that still smell like him, the room dim and quiet but not still, because Max is tracing soft lines down your back, and your fingers are moving just as slowly across his chest.
Youâre curled into his side, face pressed into his neck, your legs tangled, because they always search for each other in sleep, and Max canât stop watching you.
Neither of you says the word goodbye.
You donât need to.
Itâs there in the way you stay up too late, mouths pressed together under the covers, kissing slow and deep, with too much tenderness for something so temporary. Itâs the kind of kissing that doesnât lead anywhere or doesnât need to. Itâs not about heat or hunger tonight.
Max pushes your hair back from your face like itâs ritual, his thumb brushes your cheekbone, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.
âYouâll forget what I look like,â you whisper, trying to keep it light.
He shakes his head instantly. âNever.â
He kisses you like heâs running out of time, and when he pulls your sweater over your head he stares at you like youâre something he canât believe is real.
His hands come up to cup your face, thumbs brushing your bottom lip. You press your forehead to his and let him lie back, pull you into his lap, guide you down over him without rushing, without speaking. You move together like the rain outside, quiet, steady, and aching.
No one cries. But it feels like crying.
Max murmurs into your hair, âI hate that I have to go.â
You press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. âThen donât say it.â
The sun creeps in too early. It floods the sheets with gold. Warms your bare shoulders and neither of you moves, because itâs almost time.
You walk him to the car.
Itâs early, low clouds veiling the hills, the air still thick with the scent of rain and lavender. The gravel crunches beneath your bare feet. Your arms are crossed tight over your chest like you're trying to keep yourself from falling apart. Your eyes wonât meet his, not for long.
His suitcase is already in the trunk. The door to the rental car is open. The moment is already ending.
Max runs a hand down your back before cupping your jaw with a gentleness that threatens to wreck him.
âYou sure you donât want to come?â he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
You nod, but it takes you a second. Your throat works like the words hurt on the way out. âNot yet.â
He closes his eyes. Feels the ache settle behind his ribs, but he nods too because he gets it. Youâre not hiding anymore, but youâre still healing and this time you're staying still for it.
He understands now, maybe better than ever, why you can't go back right away. Why you need a little more time in the quiet. In the light. In the safety of this place. He doesnât love it, but he respects it.
You just need a little more time. Not from him, thatâs not what this is. Itâs the world youâre not ready for yet. The noise. The scrutiny. The way the paddock watches everything too closely and the media twists every breath into a headline. The whispers, the cameras, the weight of expectation.
Max knows it intimately and he knows what it would take from you to step back into that fire. Heâd carry you through it if he could, but he wonât rush you.
When he finally pulls back, youâre both breathing hard. You stay close for a few more moments, foreheads resting together, neither one of you moving.
âIâll be thinking about you,â he says, his voice thick now. âEvery day.â
Your fingers trace the edge of his hoodie, tug once at the hem like youâre still not ready either. âEvery second,â you murmur.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, long and steady. âAlways.â
Then he lets go. He climbs into the car and shuts the door before he can change his mind. He doesnât look back right away, doesnât trust himself to, but when he does, youâre still standing there. In the mist. On the gravel
And somehow it hurts more than he expected, but itâs not the same kind of hurt heâs been carrying all year.
Itâs not regret. Itâs not heartbreak.
Itâs hope.
Itâs the knowledge that he gets to miss you now and be missed in return, and that when youâre readyâŚ
Youâll come find him.
When Max steps into the paddock three days later, people notice.
Not because heâs louder, or sharper, or walking with that caged intensity that usually clings to him before a race.
Itâs the opposite.
Heâs lighter. Less tightly wound. Like something inside him has finally stopped screaming. Thereâs an ease to the way he moves, shoulders relaxed, jaw unclenched, eyes softer beneath his cap. Laughs, really laughs when someone makes a joke about the weather.
Even Christian does a double take during the morning briefing, brows lifting as Max scrolls through data on his iPad.
âYouâre in a good mood,â he says slowly, suspicious. âShould we be worried?â
Max just shrugs, hiding his smile behind the rim of his coffee cup. âGuess I finally got some sleep.â
GP snorts. Max doesnât respond. He doesnât have to. His smirk says enough.
It isnât long before the rest of the world starts noticing too. Photos surface of Max walking through the paddock, head down, but with a warmth at the corner of his eyes and a a curve to his mouth thatâs too personal.
@f1girliex:
okay but why is Max acting like heâs in love?? đđ
@chaoticpitwall:
Max is glowing and Iâm scared. what does he know that we donât???
@softformaxy:
did Max discover meditation or something?? why is he so zen.
@f1gossip_xox:
Max Verstappen hasnât stopped smiling since Thursday and Iâm emotionally unwell about it
He sees it all. He doesnât say a word, he doesnât deny it, but he doesnât confirm it either because he doesnât have to, but he knows.
And so does Lando.
They pass each other in the paddock. Lando glances at him, like he knows somethingâs changed. He can feel it in the air.
Max doesnât speak to him yet, he just nods, not smug, but not apologetic.
Lando doesnât look angry, he just nods back, but the tension hasnât lifted. Max can feel it anytime Landoâs nearby. The way conversations hush when they pass each other. The glances. The weight.
And later, after quali, it snaps.
Max is coming down the stairs from media duties, jaw tight, mind already on strategy for the next day and heâs barely registering the voices around him as he rounds the corner.
Lando is standing just outside the Red Bull garage, not scrolling on his phone, not chatting with a mechanic. Just standing there, arms crossed, gaze locked on Max.
Max halts, just a few steps away. His eyes flick quickly to the left, then back. The corridor is quiet.
Thereâs a pause. Long. Sharp.
Then Lando says, voice low and unreadable, âYou look pleased.â
Maxâs eyes narrow. âYou want something?â
Lando shrugs, pushing off the wall a little but not closing the distance. âJust wondering how long you plan to keep it quiet.â
Maxâs pulse skips, but doesnât answer.
Lando leans against the wall, arms still folded. âYou didnât tell anyone. But I guess you didnât have to.â
Max still doesnât respond.
âYouâre different,â Lando continues. âThe media can smell it, so can I.â
Max stays still, just watches him, waiting for the real reason heâs here.
Lando lets out a slow breath and straightens.
âYou think I donât know itâs her?â
The words land hard.
Maxâs jaw tightens. âThatâs not your business,â he says carefully.
Lando scoffs, bitter. âIt used to be.â
Max stares at him. For a moment, theyâre just two people whoâve shared too much and said too little. Thereâs history in the silence. Jealousy. Regret.
Quieter now, Lando says, âIf she did this to me⌠what makes you so sure sheâll stay with you?â
He doesnât say it cruelly. Thereâs no venom in it, just a splinter of something painful that Max wasnât expecting.
Still, it hits.
Max blinks, once. Slow. Then he straightens his spine and says, âShe didnât leave you for me.â
âShe left because she couldnât keep pretending,â Max continues, jaw tight. âAnd if you ever really loved her, youâd understand why she made that choice."
Landoâs expression twists.
âAnd what, you think youâre the answer, you're the right choice?â
Max holds his gaze. âI donât think she needed an answer. I think she just needed space to figure out who she was when no one else was trying to define it for her.â
Then Lando speaks again, quiet but sharp. âYou think that space will still exist when the world finds out?â
Thereâs a beat of silence, taut, bitter, years of friendship and rivalry suspended on a thread neither of them wants to cut.
Then Lando turns, shoulders tense, and walks away without looking back. Max stays rooted to the spot.
The next day he knows he should be thinking about tyre compounds or fuel loads, but all he can think about is you.
The look on your face when you said âYou made me feel again...â
The memory knocks the air out of him all over again.
He exhales, slow and controlled, but it doesnât do much to ease the thudding in his chest. His hands are still clenched at his sides when he walks off the morning interview platform. His answers had been quick. Polished. Automatic. But his mind hasnât been in the room for a single second.
He walks straight to his driverâs room quiet, guarded by a single staff member who nods him through without a word.
He pushes open the door.
And stops cold.
Youâre sitting on the edge of the small leather couch.
Red Bull hat pulled low, hands curled nervously in your lap, eyes flicking up the moment the door clicks shut behind him.
Maxâs breath catches.
Just you. Waiting for him.
Suddenly, nothing else matters.
He crosses the room in three steps. Drops everything heâs holding, his water bottle, his jacket, maybe a whole yearâs worth of tension.
You donât speak. You just reach for him.
Max wraps his arms around your waist, buries his face in your neck and exhales. Your hands move through his hair, gentle and familiar, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything.
Then, soft, so soft, he murmurs, âYou came.â
âI couldnât stay away,â you whisper. âNot after that.â
He pulls back just enough to look up at you. âYouâre sure?â
You nod, eyes glassy. âNot about everything. Not about the media or our friends or how weâll make this work. But Iâm sure about you.â.
You slide back onto the couch and settle into his lap, arms wrapping around his shoulders, forehead to his. Itâs quiet in the driver room, just the hum of an overhead light and the muffled footsteps of the world moving on without you.
âI missed you,â you murmur, your lips brushing his cheek.
He nods, jaw tight. âMe too.â
Finally, he kisses you. With both hands framing your face, like heâs anchoring himself there. You melt into it, all warmth and relief.
When you pull back, breathless and close, he presses one more kiss to the tip of your nose, then your forehead, then whispers, âLetâs just stay here a little longer.â
You nod against his chest. âAs long as we need.â
They donât call it hiding.
Not out loud. Not to each other. Never in those words.
But thatâs what it is.
A soft little secret carved out of the chaos. A world only they get to live in, tucked between race weekends and red-eye flights, between press briefings and podium champagne.
Itâs the way your contact is saved under a completely unrelated emoji just in case. Itâs the way he leaves the hotel door unlocked always.
Itâs slipping into hospitality just after lights-out. Tiptoeing down the motorhome hallway, your face half-covered with his hoodie as you duck past cameras and night staff. Itâs whispered hellos and slow kisses under the hum of fluorescent lights.
Itâs risky.
Itâs ridiculous.
And itâs the happiest Max has been in a year.
Because for the first time in forever, thereâs something that feels real. Untouched. Sacred.
When he wins in Imola the media calls it masterful. Clinical. A championâs drive.
He doesn't hear a word of it, because the only thing heâs looking for is that one darkened corner of the garage where youâre half-hidden behind a stack of tool crates, wearing a Red Bull cap that isnât officially yours. Eyes wide. Hands clasped tight. Smiling so hard it looks like it hurts.
It does hurt. It hits him in the ribs.
Because that smile? Itâs for him.
All Max wants to do is grab your face in both hands and kiss you so hard the entire fucking world falls away, but he doesnât. Not here.
He just meets your eyes and smiles back.
A private celebration.
Just for you.
Just for now.
That night he finds you waiting in his hotel room before he even gets his shoes off.
You just reach for him arms looped around his neck, body pressed close and your mouth is on his before he can close the door behind him. His jacket is still half-on, the zipper caught on your knuckles as he tries to shrug it off, but your kiss swallows everything else, his breath, his thoughts, the ache of the week behind him.
Itâs all teeth and heat and celebration. All the adrenaline he hasnât burned off yet, the pride he doesnât know how to voice, the longing heâs been carrying in his chest since the second you slipped out of the paddock.
You meet him with the same fire. With your fingers tugging at his collar and your legs winding around his waist like youâve been counting down the hours. Your mouth moves with his in a way that says I love you without ever needing the words.
For a few hours, the rest of the world disappears.
He lets you ride him on the balcony, under the hush of a velvet sky, slow and deep while the city hums below. He tips his head back against the glass door, hands gripping your hips, heart stuttering every time you grind down with purpose.
You smile against his jaw, warm and wicked. âYou smell like champagne.â
He huffs a breathless laugh, cupping your face. âYou look like trouble.â
He loves you so much it makes his hands shake.
The next few weeks slip by in pieces. He flies to you during off-days, two nights in Amsterdam, three in Florence, a stolen sunrise in a town neither of you can pronounce. You meet him in secret cities, always in the quiet between chaos. Sometimes in hotels, sometimes in apartments borrowed from friends, always behind closed doors.
You sleep in his shirts, stretch across his bed like you own it. You steal his hats. Riffle through his travel bag just to tease him about how many chocolate bars he carries.
You laugh with your whole chest when youâre tipsy on overpriced room service wine, and Max swears heâd give up most things in his life just to hear that sound again.
You trace the lines of his body in the dark, fingers slow over scars, lips pressed to old bruises and whisper, âThis oneâs my favourite.â
But the longer it lasts, the louder the silence becomes.
The media doesnât know, not really, but they suspect.
He still wins. Still fights. Still storms into team meetings with strategy notes and fire in his gut, but thereâs a calm to him now. A quiet steadiness no one can quite place.
Socials light up with speculation threads and edits and blurry photos of him in random cities. The way he disappears between races. The little half-smiles he tries to hide when he thinks no oneâs looking.
Then one post goes viral:
@maxietaxi I really think Max Verstappen is soft-launching someone and I NEED TO KNOW WHO???
He shows it to you one night in bed, screen dimmed, laughter tucked between your bodies as you lie tangled in the sheets. You laugh, too, but when the sound fades, Max catches the flicker in your eyes. That split-second shadow.
He knows that look.
And it hits him all at onceâ
This bubble youâve built, this little hidden life wrapped in late-night kisses and private hotel balconies wonât hold forever.
Not when itâs you the world will come for.
Itâs Monaco.
A rare day off. The kind that feels like a gift.
You walk through the old part of the city, hood up, sunglasses on, hands brushing but not quite touching. He takes you to a little cafĂŠ tucked away on a side street, the one where he used to sit alone before he ever knew what it felt like to have someone like you waiting for him back home.
Itâs risky being out in the open like this, even in Monaco with no paparazzi, but this cafĂŠ is tucked away on a quiet side street, the kind only locals know.
You sit across from him, your knees brushing beneath the table, fingers playing with the edge of his napkin. He watches you in the golden afternoon light, your laugh, the arch of your brow as you tease him, the way you press your tongue against your teeth when youâre trying not to smile.
He kisses you once, quick and soft, and Max lets himself believe the world doesnât exist outside this moment.
Two days later, the world knows.
It starts with a blurry photo posted by an anonymous gossip account that specialises in just this kind of damage. The caption is low-effort but precise enough to strike a nerve:
@f1gossipfiles Max Verstappen spotted kissing a familiar woman in Monaco on Sunday afternoon â sources say itâs not just casual. đđ
So much for the cafĂŠ being safe, thereâs always someone with a camera, always someone ready to spoil the one thing he was trying his best to keep untouched.
The picture is grainy, taken from across the street behind a cracked window, but even blurred, itâs you. Your hair, your hand wrapped around his wrist, your smile as he leans in. Unmistakable.
Itâs not just a whisper. Itâs a roar.
By the time Max flies in for morning media in Barcelona, the story is everywhere.
Twitter. Instagram. Youtube. TikTok. Reddit. Dutch tabloids. F1 fan forums.
By noon, your name is trending globally. The edits are brutal. The comments worse.
He sees them flood in:
@maxluvr33 thatâs definitely her. check the video from landoâs birthday last year SAME BRACELET. đđđ
@padcockwatch1 not to be that guy but didnât she used to date Lando?????? messy if true
@wifey4lando i KNEW she gave âupgrades to the fastest carâ energy đ
@gridgossip44 sheâs mid and gives nothing lol. why do they always fall for the ones with zero substance đ
@max334ever max looks way too happy for this to be fake⌠god i hope sheâs not just another fame leech 𼲠protect him pls
@wheelfangirl63 nah thereâs no way she pulled both Lando and Max đ someoneâs gotta be running PR fanfic on us
@mclarenmama so she dates Lando, disappears, and suddenly reappears with Max? this some calculated social climbing if Iâve ever seen it lol đŹ
@paddockspytea landoâs ex? really? thatâs who max is risking his peace for? the bar is in hell apparently đ¤Ž
@f1xdrama someone said sheâs been sneaking into red bull hospitality in his hoodie and i cannot BREATHE this is crazy
Maxâs phone wonât stop buzzing. Neither will the teamâs.
His manager wants clarification. His PR team demands a strategy call. The Red Bull comms group chat has exploded.
Christian doesnât say anything at first. Just looks at him and exhales like he already knows. Like heâs known for a while.
He scrolls once more through the post, through your smile, forever frozen on some strangerâs screen and his stomach turns, because he knows whatâs coming next.
Youâre no longer a person to them youâre a headline. The press will paint you as opportunistic, or calculated, or disloyal. Theyâll call you a snake. A gold digger. Theyâll accuse you of sleeping your way up the grid. Of ruining Lando. Of using Max.
They wonât see you.
Not the way he sees you.
And all Max can think, over and over, as the internet unravels and the fire spreads is:
This is exactly what you were afraid of.
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I was thinking a possible, sleeping in the same bed, as theyâd often do, but one morning waking up cuddling, but with Azriel? I'm dying to see him waking up to the reader latched on and having a break through about it. Maybe even the reader waking up and being embarrassed but leading to a confession? đ
Close to You
Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader
Word Count: ~0,7k
A/N: I hope you enjoy this, I didn't really add a proper confession because it didn't really fit in this moment so I hope that's okay. Thank you so much for sending it in!
It's not often that Azriel sleeps through the night. In fact it's so rare that he's genuinely surprised that the faint rays of the sun shining through his curtains greet him when he opens his eyes, so much so that it takes him a moment to blink the sleepiness out of his eyes and notice that someone was currently curled into him, still sound asleep.
His heart starts racing in his chest when he looks down only to be met with the crown of your head. Your face was pressed against his neck, hidden away from his sight, your slow breaths hitting his skin, chest moving against his. Your arm was draped over his torso and his mirrored yours, keeping each other as close as possible. All he could see, smell and feel was you.
It's not the first or the second time you've shared a bed, he had long since lost count on how many times it had happened for reasons varying from getting only one room at an inn when out on a mission to staying up so late talking that it's easier to just lay down and sleep instead of moving to your own room.
Last night you had fallen asleep in the sitting room when Cassian and Mor's stories had dragged on too long and Azriel ended up bringing you to his room, not wanting to wake you up and fly you down to your house when his bed was always available to you.
He swears he didn't fall asleep so close to you though, and he was also pretty sure that he had tucked you in on the other side of the bed. It seems you had both moved closer in your sleep, seeking each other's warmth, maybe something else.
Azriel was never a huge fan of cuddling, letting someone that close was too hard for him, it felt too intimate, too raw, but that was never the case with you. He had never worried when you hugged him close, or reached for his scarred hand, carded your fingers through his hair with a beautiful smile playing at your lips, even now, when you're hugging each other so close it's hard to see where one ends and the other begins, he felt totally at ease.
The only thing he couldn't understand was the tremble in his chest, and the hesitation when he realized he needed to get up if he wanted to spar with Cassian. He was still trying to understand it when you started stirring, pressing your face even closer to him as a soft whine escaped you.
You were so close that he could feel your eyelashes caressing his skin as you tried to blink the sleep away, and the way your body immediately tenses up when you realize the position you were in, your heart racing as fast as his when you slowly push away from him, his arm tightening around your waist before his mind catches up to what he's doing.
Azriel had always known you were beautiful, exceedingly so, but when you looked up at him, eyes a bit wide and a sheepish smile tugging at your lips, the world seemed to stand still. How did it take him this long to notice?
âI'm sorry,â you whisper, voice still heavy with sleep. You try to move away again, but his arm only brings you closer, your eyes widening as you stare into his.
âWhat for?â
Azriel swears he could feel the shiver running down your spine when you hear his voice. Cauldron, he had been so blind. He cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your soft skin softly, your hand touching his chest, undoubtedly feeling the way his heart skips as he watches your face.
âFor clinging to you,â you murmur. It sounded more like a question, like you expected his reaction to be different and didn't quite know what to do now.
Azriel only offers you a small smile, pulling you in closer and nuzzling into your hair, it widens when he feels your body relax against his, hugging him closer as well. Maybe he should try sleeping in for once, practice wasn't worth crawling out of bed for, certainly not worth not having you in his arms - he was starting to think nothing was.
âI'm the one clinging to you.â
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#azriel fluff#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel fic#my writing
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