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osamusriceballs · 1 year ago

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The Accident - Part VI

Atsumu x fem Reader

Warnings: None

Words: ~ 1,1 k

About: The flashback ends- but what will you do next?

Part I II -> Next Part

"You're not getting married."

Osamu's sharp remark did not have the intended effect. Both of you were still clinging to each other, acting all lovey-dovey.

"Samuu, you don't understand. She's my soulmate. I love her." Osamu's eyes almost popped out of their sockets while he kept watching how you two clung to each other and smiled like idiots, your hand on his cheek after he had said these words.

"You don't even know her. And stop touching her like that in public."

Atsumu's hands started wandering on your back, his fingertips teasing the bare skin on your back much to your delight - but to Osamu's horror.

"I don't mind - but who are you?" You turned towards him, and he paused for a second. You were beautiful, that much was certain. Shiny eyes, glossy lips, and a dress that looked like it had been made for you - but he quickly discarded every thought about your looks when he knew that he needed to stop this nonsense.

"I'm Osamu Miya. His brother."

"Oh." Your eyes widened as you took in his appearance, probably only then realizing how similar he looked to the man whose lap you were currently sitting on.

"Samu, we gotta go. The barkeeper told us that there's a priest next to this club."

"You're not getting married."

No matter how many times he repeated the sentence, it seemed like Atsumu was unable to understand.

xxxxxx

"And then you convinced me to get your car to drive us home. Wouldn't stop bickerin' about how it's expensive and designer and about how it costs more than Onigiri Miya will ever make. I'll definitely kick your ass for that."

A muscle under Osamu's eye twitches when he mentions the comment, and you have to hold back a snort at this. He's kind of cute when he's angry.

"And then?"

"You were gone. Found ya at the church, but it was too late. You idiots already signed the contract."

You slowly step back until your knees reach the bed, and you heavily sink down on it. It feels like he's telling you a story right out of a movie, not something that has happened just a few hours ago, the whole thing still too absurd and unreal.

"Can we redeem it?" You look at Osamu, like he's the only one that can save you now, and he somehow actually is. You still have hope that you can get out of this without negatively impacting the rest of your life.

"I've talked to our lawyer. It's a waterproof contract. Very surprising because the church was more than just a bit shady. You're both bound for a year until ya can file for divorce." His words feel like a death sentence, and you find yourself at a loss for words. You gulp at his words, blinking a few times to suppress your tears. You're an idiot—an idiot for getting in a situation like this.

It's silent.

You don't dare to look at either of them, your gaze only focused on the phone in your hands, and every passing second makes you feel even more uncomfortable, until you can't stand the silence anymore.

"I'll get going."

You stiffly get on your feet, your movements robotic and lifeless while you make an attempt to leave, but you're quick to get stopped by Atsumu before you can even make more than getting up. "Wait- I- I don't even have yer number!"

"Oh." You pause, standing there for a few moments while you watch Atsumu getting closer to you, until there is not much space left between the two of you when he stands right in front of you. "Hey- are you okay?" Concern laces his voice while he looks down at you, and you manage to nod with a forced smile. "Peachy."

Osamu snorts at your comment and shakes his head, a movement that you barely see in the corner of your eyes. He probably feels guilty for the whole situation too, the dark cicles under his eyes similar to Atsumu's, certainly because he tried to find a solution for this and did not sleep at all during the night. "People who say 'peachy' are anything but fine."

"Hey, look at me." Atsumu ignores his brother's comment and brings his hand to your cheek. You're startled but allow him to turn your face upwards until your eyes lock. "I'm not letting ya go when ya can't even walk properly. You'll eat something, then you'll take a nice hot shower and get in some clean clothes and then I'll bring ya home. That alright with you?" There is something about the way he softly states the words that sends a comforting wave of warmth through your body, and you find yourself nodding and trusting him.

"Hmm. Good girl. Now just eat the rest of the fries while Samu gets ya some clothes. Right, Samu?" Atsumu breaks the eye contact with you to look sharply at Osamu, who only sighs and nods. "I saw a souvenir shop at the lobby. Better than nothin'." You now look at Atsumu's side-profile, admiring his sharp jaw line, unable to do something else but wondering if there is even one bad angle on this perfect man, while Osamu leaves the room with another deep sigh.

"Shouldn't I have given him some money?" You take a deep breath and wipe your hands on your dress, noticing how clammy they got. Probably a side-effect of the nervousness.

Atsumu snorts and returns his gaze to you, an amused smile on his lips. "That serves him right. He always brags about how much he makes with his stupid restaurant." Atsumu looks so similar to Osamu when he rolls his eyes; it's almost comical. "Don't tell him I said that, but he really makes the best food ever. I'll take ya there and show you."

You hum approvingly, feeling somewhat a tingle run down your spine at the prospect of him taking you out for dinner but try to ignore it. "C'mon. Eat the rest of the fries. I saw how ya inhaled them. You can have mine too." He grins, something that makes him seem absolutely adorable, and you find yourself smiling back at him, a warm feeling running through your body.

"I'm not hungry anymore. I'll take a shower then?" You questioningly raise your brows, and he nods. "Yeah, of course. When Samu comes back, I'll put the clothes in front of the bathroom."

Thank you," you raise your hand as if to pat his shoulder, but you halt the movement just before reaching him. You shouldn't touch him. Technically, you don't even know him. His gaze flickers to your hand, and he appears to consider taking it. However, he quickly steps to the side, giving you some space to move to the bathroom.

Without looking back at him, you close the bathroom door, take a deep breath, and glance at the phone in your hand. You scroll until you find the picture of a bright-haired person—

and decide to finally make a call.

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mv1simp · 18 days ago

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Slow Down♥️

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader (SocialMedia!AU)

I’m so down if you’re ready, I’ll show you if you let me, girl (she said fuck me like I’m famous, I said okay)

You and Max Verstappen are very well known in the media, for having one of the most volatile rivalries in the sporting world. But Ferrari’s Princess and Redbull’s Mad Max send shockwaves through the paddock when your PR teams confirm you’re officially dating. The public have a hard time believing it…until your sex tape gets leaked on Twitter a month later. Social Media!AU

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, trying my hand at a SM! AU for the first time!!, dom! Max and switch! Reader, size kink, sexism, max being a feminist king

Everyone always said there was a thin line between love and hate. Frankly, you find it to be sexist bullshit, rolling your eyes everytime some interviewer or your friends or trainer would make some sly comment about so what’s going on between you and Max, with a suggestive wiggle of their eyebrows. Nothing, just him trying to run me off the track repeatedly and giving me 4 bruised ribs in Singapore when he clipped me illegally, you say with an annoyed tone. You know that if you were a man, and not the first female driver in decades in F1, you wouldn’t be getting randomly shippedwith all the drivers. And for gods sake, Verstappen off all people was the most laughable idea. The man was either being a violent menace on the track or an immature twelve year old off it, you think vehemently. You two had stayed well out of each others way in your Haas seat last year, with you leading the mid pack in the suboptimal car but Max remaining well out of reach at the front of the pack. But this year, you’d earned yourself a Ferrari seat and were ecstatic to finally be able to compete for a WDC.

That was, until you and Max Verstappen suddenly started to keep getting caught in each others crosshairs. What started as polite indifference between two coworkers blew up into a PR frenzy, with you and Max completing for the top step in the podium every race weekend. He thought you a reckless driver, getting lucky in a rocket ship this year and trying to sink her claws into something she can’t handle. You thought him over arrogant, a man who couldn’t handle losing to a girl, his fragile ego unable to handle losing a 4th WDC to a Ferrari driver who was only in her second F1 season.

And then, two months out from the end of the season, everything changed between you and Max. On a night out in Monaco with your friends, celebrating being home from triple headers, you’d had the unfortunate experience of being cornered by some drunk, sexist creep who thought he was entitled to touch you. He’d been stronger than you expected, pinning you in a dark alleyway and you just when you starting to freak out, Max of all people practically threw the guy off you. He’d angrily spat at the drunk to pick on someone his own size or he’d break his jaw next time, before leading you to his car with a gentle hand. Normally, you found Max’s far larger frame to be annoying, another way for him to intimidate you when he glared downwards. But that night you couldn’t help but be grateful for the muscular, tall man and his attentive blue eyes as you willingly follow him with wide, doe eyes.

The ride home had been silent, you nervously clutching the large sleeves of the hoodie Max had given you from his backseat. And when you’d thanked him for his help, saying you appreciate him looking out for you even though he hated you, he looked at you with genuine surprise. I don’t hate you, he’d said. Well, I suppose we have had our differences on the track. You snickered at this, muttering that’s one way of putting it. Max chuckled, making you peer at him curiously as you’d never heard him do that in your presence. He was actually very handsome, you noted, without an angry scowl on his face or that Redbull helmet covering him. Then you tell your tipsy brain to shut up because where the hell had that thought suddenly come from?!

But really, I think you’re a pretty amazing girl off the track, Max continued. It must be hard being the only female driver, but you always have something good to say to the dumb interview questions you get. And I’m not going to stand by and let any woman be felt up by some creep. Even if it’s the Princess of Ferrari, he adds with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at this, stepping out of his car as you reach your apartment. And when you offer him his hoodie back, he tells you to keep it. You can use it to stay warm at the next race - it’s Brazil, very rainy. Did I mention I’m called the rainmaster, incidentally? You burst out laughing at his lack of subtlety, and he smiles at having distracted you, making the scared look in your pretty doe eyes from earlier disappear. Fuck off, Verstappen, you giggle, and for once your words have no real bite.

By the time your second F1 season is over, and you’re receiving your trophy for the world championship at the Prizegiving Gala, the first female to do so, you and Max Verstappen have became good friends. Maybe something more, from all the time you’ve started spending together off the track gaming, playing padel, and going out drinking. You were far too afraid to ever say something to him, knowing the media response to the first female driver dating a fellow driver would be absolutely brutal. Besides, you had no idea if Max remotely felt the same way about you - his type seemed to be pretty models, not aggressive drivers who spent half her time plotting his downfall.

You’re surprised when he finds you at the after party, late into the night, where everyone is too plastered to note that the fallen Redbull champion is taking the winning Ferrari Princess to a private level on the yacht. If you think I’m going to apologise for breaking your winning streak, you can try again, you announce dramatically as you grin at him, 5 drinks in and pink lips loosened, letting him know you were jesting. Wouldn’t have it any other way, Princess, Max hums, coming to stand so close to you that your heart rate quickens when you feel warmth radiating from the taller, muscular driver. Besides, I’ll be taking the cup next year, anyways. Enjoy the high while you can, he says in his Dutch accent, all cocky.

You let out an outraged gasp at this, forgetting how close you two already are as you step towards him, accusing hand pressed against his firm chest. But before you can say anything, Max’s gorgeous blue eyes drop down to where your manicured nails are touching his pecs. And then he looks down further, to where your plush tits have pressed up against his abs, your cute red corset minidress pushing your cleavage up temptingly. There’s no mistaking the dark desire that swirls in his intense gaze as he looks back into your wide doe eyes. And then he’s leaning in, finally, you think, and then your brain wakes up and you remember who’s in front of you. We can’t, Max, you say breathlessly, dazed by how attractive he looks when turned on. Why not, the Dutchman demands, cocky as usual. You don’t want this, Princess? His large hand brushed your jaw, tilting your face upwards when you try to look away. Your breath hitched from the contact, and you’re sure he can feel how fast your carotid pulse is beating. It’s-it’s not that I don’t want to, you say with a blush, making a pleased smirk appear on Max’s lips. But I’m the only female driver on the grid, the public would tear me apart if they found out I hooked up with another driver on the grid-

Fuck what anyone else thinks, Max says passionately, the familiar spark of defiance in his eyes. I know the fallout from something like this would be much harder for you as a woman than me, and I waited till after the championship fight finished. No one can contest you didn’t win the cup with your own sheer skill. But now that it’s finished, I can’t hold back anymore. Your jaw drops from Max’s heated confession, never having guessed the handsome blonde would reciprocate your buried romantic feelings. And I don’t mean some one night stand or summer fling, he continued boldly. I want to be your boyfriend, I want you all to myself properly.

You must have had too many G&Ts, you hear yourself say distantly, cause you’re not even a little bit cute and shy like you normally are off the track, Verstappen. He smiles gently, knowing you were using humour to deflect from the swirling emotions within you. Maybe, he murmurs, bending down to rest his forehead against yours. Or maybe you look so fucking gorgeous in this red dress I knew I couldn’t hide how I feel anymore. When he feels your hand graze his chest, pulling him just a bit closer, he knows what you want. Pressing the gentlest of kisses to your glossed lips, he pulls back to make sure you still wanted more.

But he didn’t need to have any doubts, because you’re staring up at him sultrily, desire having darkened your own wide, doe eyes. This time you’re pulling him back onto your lips, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders so that there’s not even a millimetre of space between you too. He groans against you as the months of tension come to a head, the two of you languidly exploring each others’ mouths with your tongues.

Even if you’d woken up the next morning regretting your decision, there was no way you could turn down Max’s offer of a relationship. Because even if you had still hated him, the sex that night on the yacht has been so incredibly mind blowing, by far the best orgasm you had ever experienced, that you knew you’d never meet anyone who could fuck you so perfectly again. So you hesitantly said yes, let’s try this for real, Max over a late hungover brunch the next morning. The rest had been history - the two of you had spent the last 7 months in a secret relationship, not wanting the chaos of the media to ruin your relationship before it could even start properly. Max has proven time and time again you’d made the right decision saying yes, being the perfect boyfriend, dedicated to all your needs and wants, spoiling you endlessly and making you laugh whenever you had a bad day.

Sometimes things were hard, of course. Like when you two had tensions during a race, your private relationship doing nothing to dampen the competitive spirit you both shared. But you’d both make up after, whether it be with a long debrief and strategy talk on how to avoid an incident next time - or your personal favourite, some angry make up sex. Like you’d suspected, Max was an absolute sex god and you two enjoyed a very healthy sex life, exploring each others kinky preferences. So when you’d have to be away from each other for long periods, busy with planning and meetings at your separate team bases, your boyfriend came up with a solution once the nudes and phone sex didn’t quite hit the same.

Filming yourselves during sex seemed like a certain recipe for disaster, given how famous the two of you are and the consequences of anything got leaked. But the temptation was too great as weeks drag on without the touch of your boyfriend - so you agreed, just this once, to try it out.

Well, that had certainly been the plan. But the video had been so so nice to watch again and again anytime your pussy ached for Max that you can’t resist making more. And then last month when your teams had finally given the okay for an official announcement on your relationship, and the media response had overall been surprisingly positive, you two get too comfortable and Max accidentally sent the video over DM to you, instead of the encrypted chat you normally use.

And that was when shit hit the fan.

No, Max, go away, I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to see anyone ever again! The blonde Dutchman sighs he leans his head against the closed bathroom door with a worried expression on his face. You’ve locked yourself in his Monaco penthouse’s bathroom for the past 4 hours, not coming out despite how much he’s pleaded. Please, schatje, he tries again. I know it’s bad, but we’ll get through it together. Twitter had already banned any links of the video and both your PR teams are doing damage control and so many of the grid drivers and journalists were calling out the website that had leaked the tape. Please, I just want to see you, you can’t be locked in there forever and reading all the stuff online alone.

When you don’t reply, only sniffling through the door, he sighs again and slides down the door, making himself comfortable. A few minutes later he hears the door unlock and your red, crying face peeking through. Oh, schatje, he croons soothingly as you drop down into his arms and bury your face in his thick neck. He rubs soothing circles along your back as you sniffle that Everyone’s saying such horrible things, Maxie. How am I going to face going on the paddock ever again?

He reassures you firmly that you two would go hand in hand, united on the paddock with your heads held high, because you’ve done nothing wrong. He’d been doing the media game a lot longer than you and knew this scandal, like everything else, would get blown over with time. After your quiet sobs settle with his comforting words and tight hug, you pull back to look at him and apologise for shutting yourself away and not checking in on him. It’s your leaked tape too, you say anxiously. How are you feeling about it, baby?

He eases your concern again, telling you honestly that in the grand scheme of things, although it was a little mortifying he’s had worse in the media. Besides, it’s gonna be satisfying to crush whichever little fucker leaked the vid, he says vehemently. Any anyone who’s saying any bullshit sexist comments about you sleeping your way into F1 or anything is getting hit with a defamation lawsuit from legal, he declares, making your heart swell from his protectiveness. You still aren’t convinced, though. Are you sure, Max? I remember in that particular video, you can’t see much of my body but there’s definitely a lot of shots of your…

Dick? Your boyfriend finishes with a deadpan expression, That’s fine. Besides, I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. You know the hashtag Verstappen’s third leg is trending on Twitter now? You giggle at his nonchalance, making Max smile at seeing you cheered up. You’ve finally having processed what happened enough to maybe see a bit of humour in it. True, I suppose it could have been worse, you muse. The Las Vegas video could have been the leaked one. Imagine how batshit the fans would have gotten if they saw the handcuffs were for you, not me. Max laughs genuinely, blue eyes looking fondly at your mischievous expression. The familiar Ferrari fire he adored was back in your own pretty doe eyes.

Or worse, the Barcelona one, you tease as you lead him to the kitchen to start making dinner. Scrolling through hundreds of posts and spiralling was calorie consuming work. I think Twitter would have shut down if they found out Max Verstappen likes being called daddy in the bedroom.

Your boyfriend’s face goes adorably pink as he stammers at your unexpected roast. Hey-hey now, schat, that was just one time okay? You’d just accidentally said it and it caught me off guard-

You grin playfully, giving him a kiss on the cheek because he looked too cute to resist. Sure, baby, so off guard you lasted 5 seconds after that. His face goes even pinker, reaching the tips of his ears now as he shyly looks away. For all his fierceness on the track, you loved how sweet the Dutch Lion was off it. Giggling, you put him out of his misery by handing him a knife and tell him to get to work chopping the tomatoes. You knew no matter what came your way, you would be fine with Max by your side.

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A/N: okkk so what did u guys think at my first attempt at a social media AU ahaha. You know I love to yap I fear I included too many Twitter screenshots, I ALWAYS GET CARRIED AWAY. Anyway this was super fun pulled me right out of my writers block!!! Hope u enjoy xx

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