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fireinmoonshot · 2 days ago

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soft hearted | joaquin torres x fem! reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: You're not the type of person to go clubbing – but Joaquin is pretty good at convincing you to come along with him when he goes. Yet, when an interaction with another man at the club goes badly, Joaquin is there to pick up the pieces and make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of drinking/clubbing/eating/food as well as a guy at the club being creepy and physically grabbing the readers wrist, causing a bruise. Word Count: 4.1k A/N: Here I am with another Joaquin fic! I really love how this one turned out. I honestly wrote it just this afternoon in a few hours, I started it and I couldn't stop working on it. I'm really happy with it so I hope those of you who read it enjoy it, even though it's longer than my last Joaquin fic! Please let me know if you liked it and if you'd like to read more Joaquin from me! 💗

“Did I ever say thank you for coming out with us tonight?” Joaquin says, placing a hand on the small of your back to help guide you as the two of you make your way through the crowd, heading back to your booth where your friends are waiting for their drinks.

He’s been texting you all day trying to convince you to join them tonight – but you are the one member of your friendship group that isn’t into partying and clubbing. It’s always difficult to convince you to leave your house once you’re there.

It never stops Joaquin from trying though. He always enjoys clubbing more when you come out with them. Even just being in your presence is something he loves – whether he’s at a club or anywhere else.

“Oh, just about ten times,” you flash him a grin, trying to avoid bumping into anyone and spilling the drinks. Your friends had been waiting long enough considering how busy the club was.

Joaquin laughs, the sound audible above the loud music in the bar. It’s a familiar sound and one that instantly comforts you despite your unease at being in such a crowded place. “Definitely room for me to improve, then, angel. What do you think?”

“I think, pretty boy, that you could probably benefit from inviting me out somewhere other than a packed club sometimes, simply so I can talk to you without having to yell!” You joke, flashing him a look as you finally get back to the booth where your friends are waiting, placing the tray with all of their drinks on it on the table. They all take their drinks, yelling thank you’s at you and Joaquin as you take your seats again.

“You guys made it!” One of your friends, Cruz, yells out at the both of you.

Joaquin meets your eyes from across the table with a grimace. Cruz is incredibly drunk by the sound of his slurred voice. Joaquin is only a few drinks deep and he’s nowhere near as far gone as Cruz is. You both share an amused smile as Joaquin takes a swig of his beer.

Clubs are not your thing, never have been. It just so happens that you’ve befriended several people that love them – Joaquin being quite the enthusiast. He’s dragged you out to many clubs over the city in the time since you’ve known him. If it were anyone else, you were pretty sure you never would’ve gone… but with Joaquin, you don’t mind it. His presence is comforting, even in such a busy and chaotic atmosphere.

Joaquin is the kind of guy that all the girls and guys in clubs like these like, and on nights like this, you can understand why. The way he looks, a smile on his face as he laughs at something one of your friends says, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead from the warm air. He’s effortlessly attractive to anyone that looks at him. He’s so comfortable here. You’ve always found Joaquin attractive, but even you can admit that he looks even more attractive when he’s in a place like this – if that’s even possible.

You take a long sip of your drink – water, having decided early in the night that you were gonna be the designated driver for your friends so that they could all enjoy their night properly.

“I’m just going to the bathroom, okay?” You lean into your friend, Katy, sitting beside you to tell her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll take my phone with me if you need me!”

She nods, a little pre-occupied in a conversation with the guy beside her – someone she’d met earlier in the night at the club and had been with you guys ever since. Your eyes fall on Joaquin briefly, still laughing at something he’d heard, as you stand from the booth.

It’s difficult to make your way through the crowd without Joaquin guiding you, making you feel safe with his hands on you, but you manage. When you see the door to the bathrooms you almost let out a sigh of relief. They’re empty when you finally make your way inside – another relief. Girls at clubs can be nice, but they can also be the entire opposite and it’s nice to have a moment completely to yourself to have a second to breathe.

Once you’re done, you take another long breath before leaving the bathroom, preparing yourself for the walk back through the crowd of people dancing so you can get back to your friends. You walk past the bar first, finding it to be a little less crowded than the dance floor.

It’s louder over this side of the room, the music thudding and thumping since you’re closer to the speakers. It’s probably the reason you don’t hear the voice of someone beside you at the bar trying to talk to you as you attempt to make your way past. You only realise when a hand grabs your wrist, tugging you backwards. You stumble a little, bracing yourself on the edge of the bar, eyes falling on a light haired man sitting on a stool at the bar. The way he’s looking at you already makes you feel uneasy.

“Do you often ignore people who are trying to talk to you, honey?” He says, voice raised enough for you to be able to hear him.

“I’m sorry?” You furrow your eyebrows. “If you said something before, I didn’t hear it. It’s pretty loud in here.” You point towards the roof of the bar where the speakers are.

He laughs, a sound completely opposite to the sound of Joaquin’s earlier. This mans laugh immediately unsettles you and if he wasn’t still holding onto your wrist, you would be gone. But he has an uncomfortably tight grip on it and you doubt he’s planning to let go.

“Yeah, sure,” he scoffs, then picks up his drink and takes a long sip of it. “Listen, I don’t appreciate being ignored, okay? I put myself out there to talk to you, so I’d appreciate it if you gave me the same energy in return.”

You swallow, heart in your throat, and attempt to take a deep breath. This is not good. Why had you gone to the bathroom by yourself? Especially on such a busy night in a busy club.

“Okay,” you start. “If you let go of my wrist, I’ll sit down here and we can talk for a bit.” You figure it can’t hurt to try and bargain with him, even though you have every intention of trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible when he lets go.

“How can I be sure you won’t run away? Nah, I don’t think I will let go.” He adjusts his grip on your wrist, pulling you a little closer to him. Your heart starts beating faster as the fear starts to set in.

You risk a glance across the bar in the direction of your friends booth and feel your stomach drop as you realise you can’t see them from here, meaning they can’t see you either. Surely Katy would notice that you hadn’t come back yet and would come looking for you… you aren’t too far away from the bathrooms, so there’s a chance she’d see you on her way… but you know that she’s too occupied with her new man to come looking for you.

This is why you don’t like coming out. This is why you always say no when Joaquin or your other friends ask you to come out with them. And the one time you say yes, this is what happens. You should’ve told Joaquin where you were going as well but you figured it’d be okay – it was just a quick trip to the bathroom, what could go wrong?

Panic starts to rise in your stomach and you try your best to push it down and not let it get the better of you. You know you need to keep yourself calm in a situation like this, especially around a man like this, or things can go south quickly.

“I promise I won’t run away,” you lie, trying not to let your nerves come through in your tone of voice. “But you’re actually really hurting me right now, so I’d appreciate if you let me go. Can we make a deal? I won’t run and you’ll let go.”

You can tell by the look in the mans eyes that he isn’t going to give up this easily. The longer he keeps holding your wrist, the more your breathing starts to get heavier. How can you get out of this situation when he’s not willing to make this deal with you?

A hand gently lands on your lower back and you flinch, just as you hear a soft voice in your ear. “It’s just me, you’re okay,” Joaquin whispers, calming you immediately.

It’s impossible not to let out a breath of relief as your eyes fall on him. He’d come after you. He’d noticed you were gone or Katy had told him you hadn’t come back yet. He’s here. You’re not alone with this man and you know Joaquin isn’t going to leave you.

Joaquin’s hand gently rubs up and down on your back.

“What you’re gonna do right now is let go of the ladies wrist,” he says simply.

You watch as the mans eyes flicker towards Joaquin but then fall back on you, his grip still tight around your wrist. You attempt to step a little closer to Joaquin but it’s impossible to move with him still holding onto you.

“Hey! Eyes over here, man. Not on her.”

The man sighs. “Listen, man–”

“No, you listen to me,” Joaquin steps in-between you and the man, his voice forceful and loud above the music. “What you are going to do right now is let go of her wrist or I am going to break yours right here, right now. And that won’t be all I break either.”

“Okay, sure. You definitely look strong enough to do that, pal,” he scoffs.

You inwardly wince. You know Joaquin is strong enough to do that and worse. He’s a Captain in the Air Force and he’s The Falcon. You’re pretty certain that he could inflict a lot more damage than a broken wrist.

“You wanna find out?” Joaquin asks.

The look on Joaquin’s face must be intimidating because the man finally relinquishes his hold on your wrist. You immediately wrap your other hand around your wrist, holding it to your chest and trying to ignore the pain throbbing through it from his grip.

The man throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes before standing and walking away, further into the crowd of people. Before he’s even disappeared from your view, Joaquin has turned around, his hands moving to take your arm and carefully examine your wrist.

“It’s already starting to bruise… that bastard,” he mutters, his eyes dark. You can hear every word despite the loud music around you simply because of how close he’s moved into your space. “You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I only just noticed you were gone a few minutes ago and Katy mentioned something about the bathroom so I went there straight away but I couldn’t find you.”

The fear and panic in your stomach has gone, now replaced by nausea. You can feel yourself starting to shake, the adrenaline of everything starting to wear off. “Can you take me home?”

Joaquin doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist, hold you close and leading you out of the bar. He figures he’ll just text your friends once you’re both safely in a cab to tell them where you’d both gone – that and he’s a little annoyed at Katy for letting you go to the bathroom alone. He’s annoyed at himself for not noticing sooner that you’d disappeared.

“I’d drive you home myself but I’ve been drinking, angel,” Joaquin says as the two of you wait for a cab on the sidewalk just up the street from the club. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding you close. It’s comforting to you, helping you to remember that he’s still there beside you, not going anywhere. “My place is closer, but we can go to yours if you feel up for a longer cab ride.”

You shake your head. “Your place is fine.” You’ve stayed over at his apartment before, several times, both alone and with other friends. His bed is much more comfortable than your own, you’ve learned, since he never lets you sleep on the couch.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing your back gently as the cab pulls up in front of you.

He lets you in first before sitting beside you and telling the cab driver his address. One of his hands holds yours, his thumb gently sweeping back and forth over your skin in an attempt to help calm you down. He can see how uneasy you still feel after it all. Why had he not gotten to you sooner? Not realised you were missing sooner?

The cab ride back to his apartment is silent, as is the elevator ride up to his floor. You wait beside him, arms crossed over your chest as he unlocks his front door and lets you inside first.

“You wanna shower or something?” He asks, closing the door behind you.

“Yeah, I think that’d help,” your voice is small. The sound of it makes Joaquin’s heart hurt.

“You remember where I keep my clothes? You can help yourself, angel.”

You nod, reaching over to gently squeeze his hand again before heading towards his bedroom to get some of his clothes to change into before heading into the bathroom just off of his bedroom.

While you shower, Joaquin kicks off his shoes, steps into the kitchen and starts working on making you something to eat. Something warm, something comforting. He’s become a pretty decent cook over the past few years and cooking for you is one of his favourite things to do. He’s always inviting you over for dinner, which is exactly the reason why you know where he keeps his clothes – you eat, you stay late talking, Joaquin refuses to let you go home when it’s so late at night and he has a perfectly comfortable bed.

His heart almost stops in his chest as he sees you walking out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and a shirt. “I know I’ve said this before, angel, but you look damn good in my clothes,” he flashes you a grin.

You teasingly roll your eyes at him as you walk into the kitchen, arms crossed over your chest as you try and suss out what he’s cooking you. “Bet you say that to all the friends you let stay over and borrow your clothes, Torres.”

Joaquin snorts. “Bold of you to assume I have other friends staying over.”

He doesn’t. Even out of your friendship group, you are the only person who’s stayed over in the last several months and especially the only person he’s let sleep in his bed and borrow his clothes. He’s not willing to admit to himself what that really means. Not yet.

“What are you cooking?” You ask, peeking inside the pot on the stove.

“Pozole,” he says, coming up beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. He’s apparently incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s worried about you. “It won’t be ready for another hour and a half at least, but I figured cooking you something comforting and warm might be nice. I was already gonna cook it for dinner this week so I had everything in the fridge ready to go.”

“Joaquin, you didn’t have to do that,” you glance over at him. “Really, I would’ve been fine with a cup of tea or a pack of cup noodles. And it’s so late.” You mean it honestly, even though the fact that he’s been prepping everything for this while you were showering sits heavy and meaningful in your stomach. No one ever does things like this for you… except Joaquin.

He shrugs his shoulders and moves away from the stove, hands on your waist so that you move with him. He directs you over to the couch, waiting till you sit down before he puts a blanket in your lap and attempts – badly – to tuck you in.

“What are you doing?” You can’t help but laugh.

“You are gonna sit here for the next hour and a half, till the pozole is ready, put on a movie or something, and just try and relax. And I am gonna sit beside you, once I get changed out of these sweaty ass clothes,” he says, standing back up straight. “I’ll be two minutes, angel!” He calls out, hurrying away from you towards his bedroom.

You smile to yourself as you grab the remote to the TV and try your best to curl up under the blanket. It’s amusing, how quickly things can change. An hour ago, you were in the club with Joaquin, who was having the time of his life, and now here you are, curled up on his couch in his clothes. Your eyes drift down to your wrist, where a bruise is already starting to form, and you wince. That’s going to be painful when it fully forms.

Joaquin comes back out a few minutes later, wearing a similar pair of sweatpants and a muscle tank that causes you to focus on his biceps for much too long. You barely even notice that he’s carrying something in one of his hands.

“Uh, what’s that?” You ask, motioning to the tube.

“It’s cream that’s meant to help bruises,” he says, lowering himself down onto the couch beside you. “I forgot I had it but I bought it for myself not long after I became Falcon. Will you let me put it on you?”

You nod, letting him take your arm in his gentle grip. He squeezes some of the cream onto your wrist and gently massages it in. It hurts already, even with just the slightest bit of pressure, but you try your best to ignore it and focus on the look of concentration on Joaquin’s face. He looks up at you afterwards, catching you staring.

“See something you like, angel?”

You look away, a little flustered, and pull your wrist out of his grip. “Thank you.”

He grins and stands up, heading back towards the bathroom to put the tube away and wash the cream off of his hands. He knew it might not be the right time to be teasing with you, but he had to be – this was the Joaquin you knew, and he could tell that right now, the last thing you wanted was for him to treat you like you were something breakable, like what had happened at the bar was something you couldn’t move past.

“All right, what are we watching?” He says as he walks back to the couch, climbing over the back of it and settling down next to you, resting his arms up on the back of the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “You pick somethin’ good?”

You surprise him by passing him the remote. “You choose. I can’t find anything.”

He almost freezes solid when he feels your head lean down on his shoulder. He lets his arm fall around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest so you can rest comfortably.

“What if I pick something you don’t like?” He asks, trying his hardest not to stare at the top of your head and hope to hell you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating, even though you’re laying on the opposite side of his chest.

“Nah, you won’t,” you say. “I like everything you like.”

Joaquin clears his throat and huffs a laugh. “Yeah, what if I put on The Conjuring or something?”

“You wouldn’t,” you mutter, knowing him well enough to know he’s joking.

“What if I’m being serious, angel? What if all I want is to put on a scary movie so you get all frightened and have no choice but to cuddle up to me in search of safety?” He grins.

“Joaquin, I’m already cuddled up to you.”

He pauses. “Okay, well that’s true.”

“Just pick a movie, Joaquin.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You’re thirty minutes into the movie by the time you speak again. Joaquin is invested in the story but the second you speak, his entire attention is on you.

“Thank you for saving me tonight, Joaquin,” your voice is quiet.

Joaquin gently rubs your shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. You don’t have to thank me for anything, angel. You know that, right? I should’ve noticed and come after you as soon as you left. Katy should’ve never let you go to the bathroom alone either.”

He can’t help the bitterness in his tone.

“I didn’t meant to ruin your night, Joaquin,” you mutter, seemingly ignoring everything that he’d just said to you.

Joaquin is quick to sit up straight, making you move from your spot on his chest. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed at his sudden movement. He gently cups your face in his hands.

“Ruin my night? Angel, you did not ruin my night. Did you not hear anything I just said? In fact, you probably made my night even better than it already was. I mean, c’mon, pozole and being curled up on the couch watching a movie with you is a hell of a lot better than being out in that club without you,” Joaquin admits, his honesty getting the better of him.

You frown a little, eyes clouding with tears. Joaquin is quick to wipe one from your cheek after it falls. His heart hurts at the sight of the tears in your eyes.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you into his chest again, wrapping his arms around you and letting you cry into his chest. Your arms wrap around him, gripping the material of his shirt. One of his hands rubs up and down on your back in an attempt to relax you. “I always ask you to come out with us cause I enjoy it more when you’re there. I thought you knew that. And I know the clubs aren’t your scene, but I figured you didn’t hate them that much if you said yes to me every now and then. I promise I won’t ask you again, angel. Especially after what that prick did tonight. I almost knocked his jaw in then and there.”

He smiles as he hears something that sounds like a sob like laugh come from you.

“If I ever see him again, I can’t promise I won’t break his wrist, believe me.”

“No, you won’t,” you mutter, pulling away from his hug.

His hands immediately move to your face again, clearing the tears off of your cheeks.

“Maybe I will,” he shrugs.

“You’re too much of a sweetheart for that, Joaquin Torres. I mean… look at everything you’ve done for me tonight. You telling me you’re not a soft hearted person?” You ask.

Joaquin smiles to himself. “Angel, I’m just soft hearted for you,” he confesses. “Now, I’m gonna quickly go check on this pozole okay?” He stands up from the couch, stretching his legs and padding over towards the kitchen – mostly just to make it so you don’t feel obligated to say anything in return.

He’s standing in front of the stove, stirring the pozole with a wooden spoon, when he feels your arms snake around him from behind, surprising him with a back hug. “Uhhh, what’s happening right now?” He asks, pausing his stirring.

“Thank you,” is all you offer in answer.

“Angel, what’s going on?”

You remove your arms from around him so he can turn around and face you again. He’s about to ask you what you’re thinking when you lean up and press your lips to his cheek before bounding back over to the couch without another word. Joaquin stands, staring after you in shock. He feels like his cheek has been burned – in a good way, if that’s even possible.

“Hurry up and finish stirring that pozole, pretty boy!” You call out from your spot on the couch. “I wanna finish watching this movie and my pillow has gone missing.”

Joaquin lets out a small laugh, gives the pozole another small stir and starts walking back over to you. “I suppose I’m the pillow?” He asks, shaking his head. “I’m comin’, angel. I’m comin’.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #captain america #captain america brave new world #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #falcon #falcon x reader

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luvashli · 1 day ago

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MORE THEN FRIENDS

Synopsis -> Heeseung has always been your best friend—but lately, the lingering touches and stolen glances feel different. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to realize he’s meant to be more.

Pairing -> best!friend!heeseung x fem!reader

Genre -> oneshot, best friends to lovers, suggestive

Status -> complete

Wc -> 3.4k

Note -> requestet by this ask :) hope you enjoy

The first time you met Heeseung, he was the quiet new kid in your fourth-grade class, staring down at his desk while nervously tapping his pencil. You had been assigned as his seat partner, and while the rest of the class chattered around him, he stayed silent.

Ever the curious one, you nudged his arm with your elbow. “Wanna trade snacks?” you asked, holding up your peanut butter sandwich.

Heeseung hesitated, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for the first time. Then, without a word, he slid his pack of strawberry Pocky across the desk. You grinned, breaking your sandwich in half and handing it to him.

And just like that, you were inseparable.

___

Middle school was a blur of shared lunch trays, inside jokes, and whispered secrets. Heeseung wasn’t as shy anymore—not with you, at least. He still liked to keep to himself, but you were the exception to that rule.

You balanced each other out. Where you were loud and impulsive, he was calm and thoughtful. Where you rushed headfirst into things, he held back and thought things through.

When the other kids teased you for being “too much,” Heeseung was always there, rolling his eyes and telling you they were just jealous. And when Heeseung got called a nerd for acing every math test, you sat beside him at lunch and loudly declared that smart people were hot anyway.

Back then, everything was simple. Heeseung was your best friend, and you were his. No questions asked. No complicated feelings.

But then came high school. And suddenly, things weren’t so simple anymore.

___

Heeseung had always thought you were pretty. Even back in middle school, when you still had braces and a habit of tripping over your own feet, he knew there was something about you that pulled people in—pulled him in. But he never really understood what that feeling meant until sophomore year.

It happened at a school dance, of all places. You had dragged him there, even though he insisted he hated school events. You’d rolled your eyes and called him a grandpa, saying, “Come on, Hee, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst, apparently, was watching you slow dance with someone else.

He hadn’t realized he was gripping his soda can so tightly until Jake nudged him. “Dude, you look like you wanna kill someone.”

Heeseung forced a laugh. “What? No. I just…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on you—on the way you laughed at something your dance partner said, on the way they spun you around like you were weightless. And that’s when it hit him.

He was in love with you.

It was a terrifying realization, one that made his stomach twist into knots. Because the moment he understood his feelings, he also understood something else—you didn’t feel the same way.

After that night, Heeseung tried to ignore his feelings. He told himself it was just a phase, just a stupid crush that would go away if he stopped thinking about it.

He dated other girls. Not many, but enough to convince himself he was over you. But it never worked, because every time something good happened, you were the first person he wanted to tell. And every time something bad happened, you were the only person who could make it better.

So, he buried his feelings. He smiled when you talked about your latest crushes, pretended it didn’t sting when you called him your platonic soulmate, and kept being the best friend you needed him to be.

Because loving you was easy. It was having you that was impossible.

___

Now, standing on the edge of adulthood, you still saw Heeseung as your constant, your safe place. But Heeseung? He had spent years pretending not to love you.

And he was starting to wonder how much longer he could keep up the act.

If someone had told Heeseung years ago that he’d still be hopelessly in love with you, he would’ve laughed it off. He had convinced himself—or at least tried to—that his feelings would fade with time. That someday, he’d wake up and you’d just be his best friend again, nothing more.

But here he was, sitting across from you in your favorite café, watching as you stirred sugar into your coffee with that same absentminded concentration you always had, and he knew—he had never stopped loving you.

“You’re staring,” you teased, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Heeseung scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “No, I’m not.”

“You totally are.” You smirked, taking a sip of your drink. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Heeseung wanted to tell you the truth—that you had his whole heart on your face, that he couldn’t look at you without wanting to memorize every little detail. But instead, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you have ‘annoying’ written all over it.”

You gasped dramatically. “Wow. Is this how you treat your best friend? Unbelievable.”

There it was. That word. Best friend.

Heeseung swallowed down the bitter taste that always followed when you said that. He knew it wasn’t your fault—you had no idea how he felt. How could you? He had spent years making sure you didn’t.

But lately, it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to keep smiling when you told him about your latest date, harder to act normal when you rested your head on his shoulder like it was the most casual thing in the world. Because to you, it was casual. But to Heeseung, every touch, every laugh, every moment with you felt like something he wasn’t allowed to have.

And it was slowly driving him insane.

“Hello? Earth to Heeseung?” Your voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized you were waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what?” He blinked.

“I was saying, do you wanna come over tonight? Movie night, just like old times.” You smiled, eyes bright with excitement.

It was an innocent offer. Just another normal night in your friendship. But to Heeseung, it was another reminder of how much he wanted but could never have.

Still, he nodded, forcing a grin. “Yeah, sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Because no matter how much it hurt, being close to you—even as just a friend—was better than not having you at all.

___

Movie nights with Heeseung were nothing new. They had been a tradition since high school—just the two of you, a ridiculous amount of snacks, and an unspoken rule that you had to rewatch at least one childhood favorite before the night was over.

But tonight felt… different.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the way Heeseung seemed quieter than usual, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long when he thought you weren’t looking. Or maybe it was the way your heart kept skipping beats whenever his knee brushed against yours on the couch.

You shook the thought away, grabbing a handful of popcorn. It’s just Heeseung. Your best friend. Stop being weird.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, flipping through the streaming options.

Heeseung shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “You pick.”

“You always say that.”

“And yet, you always pick something terrible.” He smirked, reaching over to steal some of your popcorn.

You gasped, smacking his hand away. “Excuse you! I have excellent taste.”

He snorted. “Sure, if excellent taste means forcing me to sit through three-hour-long romance movies where nothing happens except people staring at each other.”

“You like those movies, don’t lie.”

“I like suffering through them for you—big difference,” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spread just a little. Heeseung always did that—acted like he was just tolerating the things you loved, when in reality, he indulged you more than anyone ever had.

You ended up picking a random movie, something lighthearted, but halfway through, you barely paid attention. Your focus kept drifting to Heeseung—his stupidly perfect side profile, the way his lips parted slightly when he was concentrating, the little crease in his brow when something in the movie confused him.

It wasn’t like you had never noticed before. You had eyes, after all. But tonight, it was like your brain refused to brush it off as nothing.

You shifted slightly, only to realize just how close the two of you were sitting. At some point, Heeseung had draped his arm across the back of the couch, and without thinking, you had leaned into his side. It wasn’t unusual. You’d done this a hundred times before.

So why did it feel like your whole body was hyper-aware of him?

A scene in the movie made you laugh, and without thinking, you turned to share the moment with him—only to find him already looking at you.

Your breath hitched.

He didn’t look away.

For a second, neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the muffled dialogue from the movie, but everything else faded into the background. His gaze flickered down—to your lips, just for a split second—before returning to your eyes.

And suddenly, you knew.

You knew what had been different about tonight. You knew why your heart was racing, why his touches felt electric, why the way he looked at you sent heat rushing through your veins.

Because for the first time, you were seeing Heeseung in a way you had never let yourself before.

And maybe—just maybe—you were falling for your best friend.

Your heart pounded as you stared at Heeseung, the glow of the TV flickering against his face. He wasn’t looking away.

He always looked at you—watching, waiting, as if he had something to say but never quite found the words. But tonight, for the first time, you weren’t oblivious to it. You weren’t brushing off the way his eyes lingered, the way his fingers twitched against his thigh like he wanted to reach for you but held himself back.

And maybe, for the first time, you didn’t want him to hold back.

You swallowed, trying to play it off. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Heeseung’s jaw clenched slightly, and his voice came out lower than usual. "You’re the one staring first."

You weren’t. Or maybe you were. It didn’t matter.

The tension between you felt thick, heavy, like a rubber band stretched too tight, on the verge of snapping.

And then it did.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, Heeseung’s lips were on yours, crashing into you like he had been waiting for this moment forever. Maybe he had. Maybe you had, too, without realizing it.

A small gasp left your lips, but Heeseung didn’t hesitate—his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him like you had been made to fit there.

The movie long forgotten, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing between kisses, the quiet sighs you couldn’t hold back as Heeseung deepened the kiss. His hands roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your thigh as he pulled you onto his lap.

You should’ve felt nervous. This was Heeseung, your best friend. The one who had always been by your side, the one you told everything to. But right now, nothing about this felt wrong. If anything, it felt like something that had been waiting to happen.

His lips trailed down, grazing the corner of your jaw, your neck—hot and unhurried, like he wanted to take his time memorizing every inch of you.

"Hee," you breathed, hands tangling in his hair.

His grip on you tightened, and a low groan rumbled from his chest, sending shivers down your spine. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured against your skin.

The confession made your stomach flip. Because if he had wanted this for a long time… why did it take you so long to see it?

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. They were darker than usual, filled with something raw, something unspoken.

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" you whispered.

Heeseung exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Because I was scared you’d never look at me the way I look at you."

Your heart clenched. How had you been so blind?

You cupped his face, your thumb tracing over his cheekbone. "I’m looking at you now."

And then, you kissed him again—slow, deep, like you were making up for all the lost time.

This wasn’t just a kiss. It was years of unsaid words, years of stolen glances, years of Heeseung loving you in silence.

And finally, finally, you were listening.

Heeseung’s lips moved against yours like he had been waiting forever—slow at first, savoring every second, but growing more desperate with each passing moment. His fingers dug into your waist as if he was afraid you might slip away, but there was no chance of that happening. Not anymore.

You were completely, hopelessly lost in him.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and Heeseung let out a quiet groan against your lips. The sound sent heat rushing through you, making your whole body feel like it was on fire.

He pulled you even closer—if that was even possible—until there was no space left between you. His hands roamed, one gripping your thigh, the other sliding up your back, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

When he kissed you again, it was different—deeper, rougher, like he had finally let go of whatever restraint he’d been holding onto.

And you wanted more.

You shifted slightly in his lap, your fingers tracing down his jaw, his neck, the sharp lines of his collarbone. Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his hands tightening around you.

"Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost pleading.

It sent a shiver down your spine. You had never heard him sound like that before.

You leaned in, lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. "What is it?" you teased softly, barely above a whisper.

Heeseung let out a shaky laugh, tilting his head back against the couch. "You’re actually going to kill me."

You grinned, feeling a rush of confidence. "Oh? Am I?"

His hands squeezed your hips, grounding himself. "You have no idea."

The air between you was thick, charged with something neither of you had dared to acknowledge before tonight. But now that the line had been crossed, there was no going back.

You stared at him—his swollen lips, the way his chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breathing. Heeseung had always been beautiful, but right now? Right now, he looked absolutely wrecked.

Because of you.

Something about that realization made your heart pound even harder.

Slowly, you traced your fingers over his jaw, your touch featherlight. "Then maybe you should do something about it," you murmured.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened.

And in the next second, he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a smirk that sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for," he murmured, his voice lower now, sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie. "Show me."

Heeseung groaned softly before capturing your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as he deepened the kiss.

And this time, neither of you held back.

___

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was warmth.

You were tangled in Heeseung—his arm draped over your waist, his face buried in your hair, his steady breathing fanning across your skin. The soft glow of early morning filtered through your curtains, casting everything in golden light.

And then it hit you.

Last night. The kisses, the way he touched you like he had been waiting forever, the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Your heart clenched.

What happens now?

You shifted slightly, and Heeseung groaned in protest, tightening his hold on you.

“Mm, don’t move,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at how soft he sounded. “Heeseung, we have to get up.”

“No, we don’t.” He buried his face deeper into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. “Five more minutes.”

You hesitated, staring at the ceiling. What were you supposed to say? Did last night change everything? Were you still just… friends? Did he regret it?

Heeseung must’ve felt the tension in your body because he finally lifted his head, his eyes barely open, but still filled with something softer when they met yours.

“You’re overthinking,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “I just… what does this mean?”

Heeseung blinked at you sleepily before a small smirk played at his lips. “You want me to confess again, don’t you?”

Your face heated. “That’s not—”

He cut you off by leaning in, brushing a slow, lazy kiss against your lips. It was barely a kiss at all, just a soft press of his mouth against yours, but it made your whole body melt.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered. “I think I always have.”

Your breath hitched.

It was one thing to realize your feelings, to feel them creeping up on you like a slow-burning flame. But hearing him say it—knowing that he had felt this way for so long—made your chest ache.

“I…” You hesitated, but only for a second. Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

You cupped his face, running your thumb along his cheek. “I love you too, Hee.”

Heeseung let out a small, relieved laugh before kissing you again—slow and sweet, like he was savoring every second.

And this time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing.

Just you and him, exactly where you were always meant to be.

Heeseung kissed you again, slow and deliberate, as if making sure you weren’t just a dream. His hands rested gently on your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against your skin, grounding himself in the moment.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice still thick with sleep.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “Waking up late?”

“No.” He pressed another lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Waking up with you.”

Your heart did an embarrassing little flip. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you.” His smirk was lazy, teasing, but his eyes held nothing but warmth.

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was—you liked this side of him. The Heeseung who was completely unfiltered, who didn’t hold back anymore. And maybe, deep down, you always had.

A comfortable silence settled between you as Heeseung shifted, pulling you impossibly closer until your head was resting against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and the warmth of his skin against yours made you wish you could stay here forever.

But reality was waiting.

Eventually, you sighed. “We really should get up.”

“No, we really shouldn’t.”

“Heeseung.”

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone, grinning when you shot him a glare.

You tried to move, but he tightened his arms around you, effortlessly keeping you trapped against him. “Nope,” he said, voice muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder. “You’re staying right here.”

You huffed, but your resolve was crumbling. He was too warm. Too comfortable. And if you were being honest… you didn’t really want to move either.

“Fine,” you relented, nuzzling closer. “But only for five more minutes.”

Heeseung chuckled, his lips brushing against your temple. “You say that now.”

And, of course, five minutes turned into ten.

Then twenty.

And before you knew it, the two of you were still tangled together, lost in quiet laughter, whispered confessions, and soft, lingering touches.

Because for the first time, there was no rush. No reason to pretend.

For the first time, you weren’t just best friends anymore.

You were his. And he was yours.

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adieutristana · 2 days ago

Text

vanity; jinx x fem! reader

loosely inspired by this fic by @moshuka.

summary; jinx used her looks to flirt her way out of a situation. her girlfriend isn’t happy.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; nsfw, porn w (some) plot, sub!jinx, dom!reader, brat!jinx, mirror sex, rough sex, strap-on use, strap-on referred to as a dick/cock, hair pulling, crying, humiliation ig?, slight degradation, use of the word ‘whore’, size queen jinx, squirting

men and minors dni.

at first, you were worried.

jinx tends to get herself into dangerous situations more often than not, way too often for her own good. it's what she's known for, after all. jinx: the mad bomber. the loose cannon. zaun's princess.

but she has a way of getting herself out of those situations. her reflexes are impeccable, her strength nearly inhuman for someone of her stature. it is inhuman, considering the shimmer coursing through her veins. weapons that she's built herself regularly save her in battle, and most of all, she's got a smartass mouth.

one that usually comes in handy, but clearly not this time.

"jinx," you start. your arms are crossed over your chest, one hip popped. you're trembling in frustration- coming apart at the edges. "i heard you were flirting with some guy who cornered you. i'm gonna be graceful and hear you out."

she bristles, and the girl's breath catches.

"what i do depends on if i like what you have to say."

you'd heard from passersby on the streets gossiping about what jinx had done. nothing stays a secret for long in zaun; there's almost always a witness, someone who can't keep their mouth shut. people love to gossip, and with that, they love to twist the truth.

so you're hoping to janna above that what you'd heard was a simple rumor. jinx being cornered by one of smeech's goons. a new one, a guy seemingly too good for the likes of this line of work. apparently not. he'd threatened jinx, gotten close to her, nearly hurt her. but instead of her usual solution of whipping out her gun and pressing the cold barrel to someone's neck as a warning, she'd flirted.

told the guy that he's young, attractive, promising. he's too good for a business like this. if he'd just leave her alone, she'd let him go without any fuss, and there would be no mess to clean up. maybe they'd even cross paths again someday.

"i didn't mean any of it, toots," her hands are raised in a mock-surrender. "he was ugly, honest!"

"i didn't ask if he was ugly," you bite. you're inching closer to her, until your noses are nearly touching. the tone in your voice tells jinx you're not fucking around- yet that makes this all the more exciting for her. "i asked you to tell me what happened."

"i didn't do anything, just flirted a little. no harm done."

"you have a gun. why didn't you use that?" you push.

jinx huffs, rolling her eyes. it only serves to piss you off even more. "i just wanted to switch it up, yanno? try something new. and it worked, didn't it? didn't have to spill any blood or nothin'. no cleanup."

"so what i heard is true?"

"depends what you heard."

"oh, you-"

that's it. you take jinx's wrist, and just about drag her to her cot. she's giggling all the way, that signature shit-eating grin plastered on her face. you wish there was blood to clean up. although you know nothing happened- jinx wouldn't dream of being unfaithful to you, this feels calculated. like she'd done it on purpose, just to get under your skin. she was probably sitting in her hideout, just waiting for someone to start talking.

you want nothing more than to slap that grin off of her, make her grovel and apologize and make it up to you.

but you won't. with a quick motion, jinx is flung onto her cot. she gasps, but doesn’t move from her sitting position, doesn’t stop fucking grinning.

"come oooon! you're always telling me i'm soooo pretty. i’m like a work of art.” she comes to lazily toss around the end of one of her braids, playing with it the same way she’s playing with you. “maybe i just wanted to use that to my advantage.”

gods damn it.

you come to stand closer to jinx, looming over the girl. she’s still sitting on her cot, nice and pretty. she looks so innocent, so sweet, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she actually was. too bad you do know better. your forefinger and thumb grasp her chin, forcing her to look at you. your thumb lazily traces along her plump bottom lip.

“oh, you’re pretty, alright.” your thumb pushes past her lips, flattening against her tongue. “gorgeous, even. but that doesn’t mean you go around using those looks like a fucking whore.”

jinx would be smiling right now, but her mouth is… occupied, not sucking, not licking at your thumb, but letting you do what you must. you withdraw it as quickly as it was put in, wiping her spit on her bare shoulder.

“you’re all talk,” she gasps. “not gonna do a damn thing about it, are you?”

“do you want me to?”

“sure.”

“do you deserve it?”

“does it matter?”

it’s then that you flip her onto her stomach.

“take those clothes off. get back on the cot- face down, ass up. i’ll be back.”

no time is wasted walking to another platform in her hideout and swiping the shattered mirror from one of her tables, and a strap-on from one of her drawers.

you place the mirror directly in front of jinx’s cot, and to no surprise, jinx is completely bare now. her perfect heart of an ass in the air, pussy nearly glistening in the dim light with her arousal. she’s braced herself on her hands, and she isn’t moving, but you can tell by the way her arousal is already dripping down her inner thighs that she’s eager.

it’s a sight straight out of a porn film. the mad bomber, desperate and wanton. maybe you’ll buy a polaroid camera for next time, really capture the moment.

“ugh, toots, are you just gonna stand there, or are ya gonna fuck me?” she whines, only interrupted by the sound of the harness fastening around your hips.

“you’re not exactly in a place to make demands right now.”

you lean over her, your breasts pushing into the smooth skin of her back and your lips almost touching her ear.

“‘revolver’, if it gets too much.” you whisper.

and with that, the tip pushes past her folds. bright pink and dusted with glitter, about 8.5in and girthy. a large task for a small girl, but jinx insists she can take anything you give her.

“hngh- fuck!” she whines out, already beginning to buckle. you’ve got one hand rested on jinx’s hip, the other trailing down her side- her shoulder, the grooves of her ribs, her tiny waist, until it finds purchase on her other hip and you push into her.

another lewd cry falls from her lips. you’re barely even halfway in, and she’s already panting and moaning so pitifully. maybe another day you would’ve taken pity on jinx, but not after the shit she pulled.

“come on,” you coo. “can’t take it?”

“i didn’t- agh, say that-” she pants. the girl’s form is beginning to tremble, but you don’t waver. you ram the rest of the toy into her hole, which brings a borderline pathetic wail from her. the way her greedy hole is impaled by your cock is a sight you wish you could burn into your mind. if she were on her back, you bet you'd be able to see it from inside her stomach, but that can wait for another time.

“fuck- fuck! too big!”

“too big, huh? should’ve thought about that before you went and threw yourself at some guy.”

you ease the strap out of her, before slamming it back in. positively prying your girlfriend open. you then take one of jinx’s long twin braids in your hands, looping it once around your wrist and yanking. forcing her to look up.

she gasps with the motion, yet somehow, she still has the willpower to defy you. squeezing her eyes shut and grunting. you jerk her braid farther back, jinx hissing at the stinging pain.

“look at yourself.” you demand.

it’s then that you move. a slow pace at first, in, out, in, out. drawing wet squelches from her cunt with every thrust. she’s shaking and thrashing and whining, but you can’t deny the way jinx’s cunt sucks you in, clenches around you. greedy and sopping, as if it was made to take your dick.

“aah, hhhng- oh! oh!”

your pace is quickening, and you can hear the skin of your hips slapping into her ass. jiggling ever so slightly with each movement, but the best thing is the mirror.

there’s multiple images of the scene in the shattered glass. the sight is something right out of a dirty magazine; you pounding jinx’s poor, abused pussy from behind. jinx struggling to support her upper body despite her strength, you tugging at one of her braids and forcing her to look directly at her reflection. small tits bouncing with each thrust, plump lips open and the slightest bit of drool dribbling down her chin.

“do you see it?” you pant, the base of the toy nudging your clit with each thrust. “the- hah, way you look right now? while i’m fuckin’ you?”

“yes,” she breathes out, her voice a high shrill. her strength is starting to fail her, shaking on her arms and eventually dropping down to her elbows to support herself. a smirk tugs at your lips at the sight, seeing jinx being broken down so quickly. she brought this on herself, really.

"f-fuck, you look a mess," snapping your hips against jinx's, pathetic whimpers and whines falling from parted lips like a stream. "feels good, huh?"

"feels- hmmph, so good!" she groans. her body is being forced forward and back ever so slightly with each motion, and to see herself being fucked in real time is both thrilling and downright humiliating. jinx never knew this is what she looked like, so wrecked and sloppy, but she can't be bothered to care right now. all she can care about is you fucking into her relentlessly.

arousal dripping down her inner thighs, a stinging sensation in her scalp while you hold onto her hair. she knew you'd get jealous if she flirted- expected a thorough spanking, maybe, or for you to sit on her face and use her mouth until you were satisfied. never did jinx think you'd force her into a front-row seat to her own punishment.

“you’re not gonna do that again- mm,” you groan, base rubbing against you so right. “are you? hngg- tell me you won’t.”

“i won’t, i won’t! unghh, i’m sorry!”

she nearly screams out. the pleasure is mounting, it’s painful, she’s being stretched open and almost split down the middle. but it’s so fucking delicious, the feeling of you fucking her so thoroughly. so deeply. tears are beginning to well in her eyes, her mascara already running down her cheeks. it’s filthy. the tip of the plastic dick kisses her cervix with each thrust, coated in sleek juices.

"oh- oh, please," she breathes out. her bangs are sticking to the thin sheen on her forehead, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. "pleasepleaseplease-"

there it is. jinx is close, that much is obvious from her flushed expression, her straining against your grip, trying to push her hips back onto your cock like some needy slut. your own climax is building, but you want- need to see jinx get there first.

you reach underneath her with your free hand and press against her neglected clit, which draws a high-pitched squeal from jinx. you revel in the sound. right now, it’s as if jinx is an instrument, fine-tuned for your playing. making these beautiful, obscene sounds.

you can see hot tears running down her face in the mirror, lips parted and the pale expanse of her neck bared. her lipstick is smeared from the dribble running down her chin, and thin black streaks run down her cheeks.

“i’m- i’m gonna-!”

the girl doesn’t have time to finish her sentence before she squirts over your hand and the cot beneath her- coating you in light pink. she’s boneless, panting beneath you, collapsing as soon as you pull out of her and release her braid. she can’t muster up any words, she’s spent- laid on her stomach, sniffling and simply trying to breathe.

maybe next time, she won’t be so fucking vain.

#jinx x reader #jinx x fem reader #jinx smut #arcane x reader #reader insert #arcane x you #sapphic #lesbian #idk how i feel about this one tbh

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mariasont · 1 day ago

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maria's fic recs

i have realized how most of these are smut & idk what that says about me but alas this are some super super amazing talented people who write crazy cool stories!!!! check them out!!!!! make sure to follow, reblog & comment on these fics if you like them!!! these incredible fic writers deserve it! i will also probably be adding more as i read follow my fic rec page for more @mariasficrecs if anyone mentioned in this post wants to be removed let me know <3

spencer reid

cedar - @parfaitblogs summary: in which compatible bodies does not always mean compatible minds, but spencer reid is all too kind when you're like this, so perhaps you're allowed to forget that for a night.

this is the fic for the girlies who have loved someone more than they should, more than they loved you back and more than was every healthy. this is the kind of fic that makes you reread certain lines just to punch yourself in the chest a second time. masterpiece in pining, delusion, and tragic devotion. the most gorgeous piece of writing truthfully

in my dream im fixing your crutch - @notlongtolove summary: most nights, spencer wakes to the sound of your sniffles—unlike most nights, he doesn’t have to ask why. the reason is visceral, tangible—staining the sheets when the wound dressing wasn’t tight enough, seeping and pooling right between the both of you where an ocean of your guilt already lies.

this and everythingggg p writes is so incredibly SHATTERING in the best way possible. i truly need everyone to follow rn! and reader everything written by them! but this one specifically wasn't just a fic it was an experience. it's so painful and beautiful and so unfairly written. the duality of intimacy and violence is insaneeeeee like shakespearean level.

into the rose garden; for evermore - @notlongtolove summary: months of hope, weeks of ache. you’ve stayed. you’ve waited. you’ve stayed in the waiting. more pathetic than poetic if you’re being honest. but now, with him standing here with his heart in his hands, it doesn’t feel simple.

might be my favorite fic ive ever read if im being honest. everything about it had me sobbing like a baby. it's not even angst at this point it's a biblical reckoning. p has made heartbreak into a single character, personified pain and i felt every freaking piece of it actually! every single line was freaking perfection & you get to choose your ending!!!!!!! because user notlongtolove is so cool and so creative.

i can do a lot with fifteen minutes - @reidrum summary: in which you and spencer don't make it out the door on date night

i love a sabrina reference (clearly) and this was just the perfect smut fic literally like poetry disguised as desire. i have read a lot of smut (u got me). but nothing compares to a good intimate zipper scene. i will eat it up everytime!!!!!!! and a mirror scene!!!!! double whammy. fantastic 10000/10

hypothalamus - @reidrum summary: in which spencer gets creative on helping you study for your exam

godddddds to have spencer reid talk nerdy to me in bed. so in character. essentially the anatomy lesson of the gods actually. so amazing

sobriquet - @siriuslylantsov summary: spencer reacts to you calling him a nickname for the first time.

so sweet, so fluffy, a love letter to everything good in the world, essentially love seeping into mundane which is my favorite genre!!!! waking up with spencer!! being in love!! angel!!!! i love spencer calling the reader angel girl!!!!! <3

sweeter - @siriuslylantsov summary: in which, you and spencer try out foodplay, through use of whipped cream.

whipped cream!!!!!!!!! i dont have many words other than that! must read

white noise - @brattyspence summary: spencer x reader -- a situationship defined by white noise; a metaphor for how we pacify ourselves and make stupid decisions to experience comfort, even when it hurts

visceral, soul-shattering, gut wrenching agony. that's about it. slow burn destruction that will have you crying. no doubt. this fic literally lulls you into a false sense of security and then u realize that spencer is white noise and that you'd rather have whatever this is than nothing at all. LOL! definitely did not almost kill me while reading. most accurate portrayal of a situationship

chateau lobby #4 - @burymagdalene summary: Whilst trying to navigate romantic relationships after prison, Spencer finds himself in love and caught in an all-too-serious non-relationship with reader. Wanting to break this streak, he asks to spend Valentine's Day properly with a real date. Afterward, they find themselves desperate with trying to express their love for each other.

so as you might be able to tell i have a pattern of reading situationship spence! call me a masochist! but this one had a happy ending okay!!!!!!!! and a reference to father john misty? yes. immediately. i also just love post prison reid because he's so complicated and different but still him and he doesnt think he deserves soft things and soft love and it's so devastating. reading the date literally felt like falling in love in real time. so good.

a closed mouth doesn't get fed - @burymagdalene summary: When reader notices Spencers dark circles and glossy eyes, they store away their pressing need for him in bed. This desire locked away forms into a wet dream that escalates their prior expectations substantially.

one of the best portrayals of sleep-deprived, love-drunk, desperate sex. that's it. that's the tweet. also when he switches the reader's straw like why was that so sweet to me im crying

xoxo - @pathologicalreid summary: in which your daughter goes to the BAU to hand out her extra Valentines

peak domesticity. i love girl dad spence so much it's not even funny. it's everything he deserves. like i can only hope in some alternate au this is the ending reid got <3

to talk is to bare - @esote-rika summary: three times you've never felt enough for Spencer Reid—and the three times he rectified it immediately

one of the most painfully real depiction of navigating self worth in a relationship with spencer. like exactly what i feel like it would be like to be with someone so brilliant and like so unattainable-seeming, while feeling ordinary and yet spencer makes the reader feel so special ugh

in infinite universes - @nereidprinc3ss summary: in which spencer reid picks up uni!reader from a party. you're drunk, and he's in love with you

there is not a single thing (cannot emphasize this enough) that i won't read from nereidprinc3ss okay? everything she writes is actually literary gold. but this one was so beautiful it almost hurts to reid because it's literally a love letter to inevitability!!!!! and the dialogue is so funny and flirty and so spencer and ugh it's so raw and real.

spencer reid & aaron hotchner

unknown territory - @minswriting Spencer walks in on Aaron going down on you. So he watches the two of you have sex.

had to take multiple breathers after reading this! everyone knows i love hotch and reid and even more so i loveeeee a why choose. also everything min writes is so hot, 10/10 recommend checking out her account. "reid, if you're going to stand there and watch, you can at least come in and close the door" hello????????? immediately yes.

aaron hotchner

crazy - @kimstills summary: after one heated and spontaneous night together, aaron can’t seem to get his pretty subordinate (or her pussy) out of his head.

i did in fact read this bad boy like three times because it's that good. it perfectly mirrors hotch's mental state which i love love love. and i just love a smutty fic that has the best escalation of tension, like it builds until hotch physically cannot take it anymore and shewwwww so hot. exactly what i want in a hotch smut fic

savor - @kimstills summary: after being compromised to working a case the next day, aaron decides on savoring your current moment together for when he’s gone.

maddie is just always going to make the hottest aaron hotchner smut. the fact that this idea comes to aaron mid fuck is wild and i love it LOL.

morphine - @luveline summary: you get a good dose, confess your affections, and leave poor, oblivious hotch to fix things up neatly.

so if you follow my fic rec blog you know i literally reblog absolutely everything jade writes because it is just that fantastic. and this one is just soooo tender and so perfectly in character with hotch. if you are looking for truly amazing characterizations of hotch and reid !!!!! right here besties !!!!

filthy flat-pack thoughts - @alinathinkstoomuch summary: you had taken the day off to get yourself settled into your new apartment, not expecting hotch to show up at your door and offer a hand.

hey so firstly im just obsessed with the title, idk why it scratches something in my brain. and i feel like this fic should be illegal because it's not just smut-adjacent, it's foreplay with no touching, sexual frustration in furniture assembly and poor decisions lolol and again everyone who knows me knows i eat upppppp sexual tension and this fic was just that. there is literally no kisses no sex nothing and it's still one of the hottest fics i've ever read (there is also a smutty part two so go check that out as well)

can't lose when i'm with you - @aureatelys summary: You work as a beverage cart girl at your local country club and your dad ropes you in to make him look good during a business meeting with his new best friend.

dbf hotch is my weakness. the slow burn!!!!!! possessive hotch!!! daddy hotch!!!! this is the gold standard for dbf hotch truly. felt like i needed a cigarette after and i don't even smoke

red light kiss - @aureatelys summary: You haven't had sex in a week, you're stuck in the car with your new boyfriend/boss, and he's wearing that damn Kevlar vest. How could you resist?

hey yeah so i was positively feral after reading this actually. that damn kevlar vest is right. idk how you managed to make a blowjob in a government vehicle feel romantic but you did so bravo

tyrant - @solardrop summary: Hotch lets you take some anger out on him after he disrespects you on a case.

my favorite genre !!!!!!! making hotch shut up by sitting on his face! mhm mhm mhm. absolutely amazing use of free will was you writing this because i've read it at least 5 times minimum. i was forever changed after this

salt & pepper - @dudeitiskarev summary: dad bod and insecure Hotch. That’s it.

everything cat writes is just so crazy good but everyone knows i have such a weakness for dad bod hotch & this is the absolute perfect fic for it.

we can't be friends (wait for your love) - @cerisereids summary: down on your luck after a huge betrayal, you return to live at your father's house with your tail between your legs. you're humiliated, thoroughly convinced nothing good could come from returning home. then you meet aaron hotchner.

there are three parts to this masterpiece and i need everyone to read them all okay? because it's just so good. hotch flustered is my roman empire and grrrrrr this man was literally on his knees for the reader internally through out the whole thing & once again dbf!hotch!!!!! arghhh obsessed

#aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid x reader

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astrolook · 3 days ago

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Chiron: Because Therapy Wasn’t Expensive Enough Already

Chiron, aka the “Wounded Healer,” is that one astrology placement that drags your soul through the mud but lowkey turns you into a wise sage (or a really expensive therapist’s client). Whatever house Chiron lands in is where life hands you lemons—except you’re not making lemonade; you’re writing a memoir about your suffering. BUT, this wound isn’t here to destroy you. It’s here to shape you into a master healer in that area of life.

Chiron in the 1st House (Identity Crisis Central)

Feels like everyone sees the “wrong” version of you.

Might attract partners who project their insecurities onto you.

Struggles with confidence—undervaluing yourself until one day you wake up and realize, Oh wait, I AM that person.

You feel like you need to prove your existence. The glow-up happens when you realize you don’t have to be anything other than yourself.

Chiron in the 2nd House (Money Trauma & Self-Worth Rollercoaster)

Might attract people who challenge your self-worth (ouch) or partners who make you question your financial stability.

Feels like no matter what, you never have “enough.” But once you stop equating your worth to a paycheck, financial stability finds you.

The wound? Feeling like you need to earn love or success. The healing? Realizing you’re valuable just as you are.

Chiron in the 3rd House (The Overthinker’s Special)

Struggles with communication—either you overshare or feel unheard.

Dating involves writing mental essays before sending a text.

Feels like your voice doesn’t matter. You might avoid speaking up in professional settings, but your words are actually your power.

Gaining self-worth? Learning to trust your own thoughts. Your ideas do matter, and you don’t need external validation to prove it.

Chiron in the 4th House (Home? Never Heard of Her.)

Deep-rooted family wounds make intimacy feel like both a dream and a nightmare.

Might attract partners who feel like “home” but in a trauma-repeating way.

Emotional baggage seeps into your work. You crave security but might self-sabotage when things feel “too good.”

You heal when you build the emotional foundation you never had—on your own terms.

Chiron in the 5th House (Creative Genius with a Side of Imposter Syndrome)

Love life feels like an emotional battleground.

Fear of not being “good enough” in romance. Attracts partners who mirror this insecurity.

SO much creative talent, but that little voice in your head says, “Who do you think you are?”

You people deserve joy and self-expression. Stop dimming your light to fit in.

Chiron in the 6th House (Burnout + Perfectionism = Yikes)

Over-giver energy. Attracts partners who lean on you emotionally but struggle to give back.

Might feel like work defines you. Learning that productivity doesn’t equal self-worth is the ultimate aha moment for you.

Stop trying to be “useful” to be loved. You’re enough even when you’re resting.

Chiron in the 7th House (Relationships: The Crash Course in Healing)

Oh, boy! Romantic wounds galore.

Attracts partners who reflect past traumas until you finally break the cycle.

Collaboration struggles—feeling unseen in partnerships. The key? Finding your own voice.

You should learn that love doesn’t have to hurt to be real.

Chiron in the 8th House (Shadow Work or Bust)

Deep fears of betrayal, abandonment, or being “too much” in love.

Might attract emotionally unavailable partners.

Feels like financial security is always just out of reach. But once you embrace your power? Financial transformation happens.

Your intensity is your gift, not your curse.

Chiron in the 9th House (Existential Crisis, Anyone?)

Might feel disconnected from people who don’t “get” your way of thinking.

Feels like you don’t know enough. The truth? You’re more than capable—you just need to trust yourself.

Stop waiting for permission to follow your own path.

Chiron in the 10th House (Career Struggles & Public Image Woes)

Feels like you have to “prove” your worth in love.

Might attract partners who challenge your status or career.

Fear of failure. Struggles with stepping into authority, but the world needs your leadership.

You’re not an imposter—you belong at the top.

Chiron in the 11th House (The Outsider Complex)

Struggles to feel like they truly belong.

Friends or partners might make you question your value in social spaces.

Feels like success is tied to being “accepted.” The truth? Your uniqueness is what makes you irreplaceable.

Lesson? Stop trying to fit in when you were meant to stand out.

Chiron in the 12th House (Spiritual Wounds & Hidden Pain)

Tends to self-sacrifice in love.

Attracts people who take more than they give—until you learn to set boundaries.

Feels drawn to healing professions or creative outlets but struggles with self-doubt. The key? Learning to trust your intuition.

You are not here to be invisible. Your depth is your superpower.

🔥 Chiron is messy, but it’s also where you level up. Once you embrace the wounds, they stop running the show—and you become the healer you were meant to be.

🔥 Where’s your Chiron, and how has it shown up in your life? Let’s talk about it in the comments!

Curious about what the stars say about your life, love, and destiny? DM me for a birth chart reading, and let’s unlock your cosmic blueprint! 🔮✨

#astro notes #astro observations #astrology readings #astrology #spirituality #spiritual awakening #birth chart #chiron #spiritual journey #spiritualgrowth

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mrgoldmc26 · 18 hours ago

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IU's Contract Renewal

Tags: Gangbang, blowbang, spitroasting, airtight, betrayal, bondage, piss play, humiliation, degradation and more...

Word Count: 9.2k

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

With just a little bit over six months remaining on her current contract, today was a big day for IU. It was a quiet Sunday morning, the kind that made the world feel slower, emptier.

After arriving at EDAM Entertainment's building, she stepped out of the car, flanked by her lawyer and bodyguard as they made their way toward the elevator—the familiar routine of a contract renewal settling in her mind.

She thought this would just be another simple contract renewal, but little did she know, it was going to be far from it.

Over the past few weeks, she had asked Bae Jong-han, her manager of fifteen years and also CEO of EDAM Entertainment, for details about the renewal. Usually, he was transparent, walking her through every clause and adjustment. But this time, he had been uncharacteristically vague, offering nothing but polite reassurances.

When she got to the place where the meeting was set to take place, it was empty. It was an office she had been in countless times before. It was spacious, with a large, oval wooden table dominating the center of the room, its polished surface reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lighting. At the far end, directly opposite the entrance, a TV hung on the wall, its black screen blank and unassuming for now. Just beneath it, a wall-mounted safe was embedded into the wall, its digital keypad and sturdy steel door a silent guardian of the valuables that were stored inside. To the right, a door led to a small private bathroom, a convenience she had used more times than she could count during long discussions.

IU exhaled softly, placing her bag on one of the chairs before turning to her lawyer and bodyguard.

"I'm going to do a quick makeup check." She said, making her way to the small bathroom.

Inside, she stood before the mirror, adjusting a stray strand of hair before carefully inspecting her makeup. Everything was in place, but the habit had become second nature—one final check before any important meeting. As she smoothed out the edge of her lipstick, a faint noise came from outside, signaling more people had arrived. Without wasting any more time, she hurried to finish up and stepped out of the bathroom, returning to the office.

Upon her return, she saw none other than Bae Jong-han, the man who had guided her career from the very beginning, standing with the same composed expression he always wore in these contract renewals. Beside him stood EDAM's lawyer, a man in his forties with sharp, observant eyes, and several board members seated at the table, waiting in silence. Near the double doors, on opposite sides, stood two bodyguards—EDAM's on the left, a tall, strong black guy, and IU’s on the right. Both remained still, their presence a silent yet heavy reminder of the power struggle unfolding in the room.

A warm smile broke across IU's face as she approached her longtime friend and manager.

"Jong-han oppa." IU said, as she, without hesitation, wrapped her arms around him in a brief but sincere hug, feeling the familiarity of fifteen years of trust.

"Good to see you, Jieun. Are you ready to get started?"

"I'm not sure. You always tell me details ahead of contract renewals, but this time you didn't say anything."

"Well, there are some changes we want to implement, and I didn't want to address them in private."

"Very well. Let's get started." He said, as he made his way to the TV and turned it on to begin a PowerPoint presentation. IU sat down next to her lawyer, with EDAM's lawyer sitting in front of them.

"Before we go over the contract in detail, I want to give you a brief overview. It's largely the same as before, but we've made some adjustments, particularly on the musical side of things."

"But before we get into that, let's talk about Jieun's acting career very briefly."

"The board is extremely pleased with the results. IU has proven herself as a top-tier actress, and the numbers reflect that. We want her to continue pursuing acting, since it’s a valuable part of her brand, and it's by far what earns us the most money."

IU gave a small nod, a quiet sense of pride settling in. Acting had always been something she cared about, and hearing it acknowledged so positively, even in business terms, felt validating.

"Now, onto the music."

"As you all know, our primary goal over the past few years has been to solidify IU as the top female soloist in Korea."

"I believe we've done a pretty good job with that up until recently. However, there are some new threats."

"Our main threats are these four ladies." He added, showing a picture of each Blackpink member.

"They are obviously the most popular female K-Pop idols in the world, and ever since they have started doing solo activities, their popularity has only gotten bigger. Also, if we add up all of their solo songs, and compare them to their group songs, their solo discography is now bigger than their group discography."

"Because of that, the rest of the company and I believe that IU is no longer the most popular soloist in Korea."

The words stung, and despite her best efforts to remain composed, a flicker of disappointment crossed IU's face. She shifted slightly in her seat, fingers brushing over the fabric of her skirt as if grounding herself. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard something like this in a business meeting, but that didn’t make it any easier. She had dedicated years to reaching the top, and hearing that her position was slipping, even from a strictly analytical standpoint, left an uneasy feeling settling in her chest.

"Now, that wasn't our only goal. We also believed that it was possible to fight against those K-Pop groups, but that has turned out to be a total failure."

"We are still not bigger than the most popular 3rd gen girl groups, like Blackpink, Twice and Red Velvet. And now, not only we have been overtaken by almost all the biggest 4th gen girl groups, but also by some of the 5th gen girl groups. This cannot happen! It's unacceptable!"

"These groups are known all around the world, but you...Jieun...you are only known in Korea, and we need to change that."

"Your songs are just not good enough." He added, as IU's disappointment only grew more apparent, the words hitting her like a stab to the chest.

"But do not fear...I've got a solution."

"Jieun...you might not like this, but...the company and I believe you should change your concept, and approach a more main stream vibe."

"We believe that you should try a Pop-Rock concept. It's very popular in the West."

"What? No! That would be selling my soul to the devil. I will not do it. I don't care about numbers, or views. I care about my fans and what is real to me."

"I was afraid you would say that, but I got another solution..."

"How about we change the way you dress?"

"I don't wanna bring them up again, but Blackpink has been wearing less and less clothes lately, and it seems to be working. Also, girls like Wonyoung have been showing up a whole lot more skin lately, and it's been driving everyone insane."

"Bae Jong-han...are you serious right now? How could you? This has to be a joke, right?"

"We are not joking. The industry has changed, and we need change...we need YOU to change. Our numbers are horrible right now, and we need to do something about it."

"I can't believe you would suggest those things...change my concept and dress like a slut? No chance."

"Jieun...you have no other options. We got the final saying."

"No, I refuse to believe that. I'm not signing anything right now. We'll see you next week." She said, a tear running down her face as she rushed out of the office, followed by her bodyguard and her lawyer.

IU was furious, sad and disappointed. She couldn't believe her CEO, but most importantly her manager and long time friend would suggest those things. IU knew the numbers were bad, and she wanted to do everything in her power to fix them, but not by compromising her values.

She spent the next week locked in her apartment with her lawyer, reading the new proposed contract and going over her current contract to try and find something she could use to make her way out of it. After going through both contracts a thousand times, her lawyer told her there was no way out.

IU couldn't believe it, and she refused to accept her fate. She called her manager over and over again, begging him, pleading with him to change the contract, but he wasn't having it. Desperation turned to anger, and she finally snapped, firing him right then and there over the phone, her voice sharp and unwavering. Yet his reaction was as indifferent as ever, unbothered and almost amused, as if he had expected this all along.

By the time Sunday arrived, IU had barely slept the night before. No matter how many times she went over the possibilities, they all led back to the same cold, hard truth—there was no easy way out. Still, she refused to let them win.

Around 11 AM, she arrived at the building, her bodyguard walking beside her in silence, whilst her lawyer carried a folder filled with notes from the past week. Last time, she had stepped through these doors feeling hopeful, even relaxed, trusting that they would find a solution. Now, that hope was gone. Her chest was tight, her jaw clenched, and every step felt heavier than the last. There was no more room for wishful thinking. Just quiet, unwavering determination to protect her image and the creative freedom she had spent years fighting for.

As they entered the conference room, IU immediately saw that something was different. Last time, she had been the first to arrive, left waiting while they made her stew in uncertainty, but this time around, they were already there. However, unlike before, the rest of the board members were nowhere to be seen.

Bae Jong-han sat comfortably at the head of the table, with his lawyer beside him and his own bodyguard standing near the door. There was no act of concern this time around. Just a smug expression as he leaned back in his chair, watching her like he had already won.

"Where are the others?"

"Not here. They are not coming."

IU didn’t waste time with greetings. No handshakes, no pleasantries. She simply set her bag down, took her seat, and folded her hands in front of her, meeting his gaze without an ounce of hesitation.

"So, Jieun...are you ready to sign?"

"IU. My name is IU." She said, stopping him from using her real name.

"And no. I refuse to sign the contract."

"What's your plan, then?...IU?..."

"I'm going to run down my contract, and I'll find another company."

"Good luck with that." He said, chuckling at IU's words.

"Tell me, IU...what company do you think is going to take you? Who's going to sign a 31 year-old who's past her prime? Someone who can't compete in streams or views against today's idols?" He said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

"You're irrelevant now, IU. It's not 2017 anymore...you're no longer the industry's golden girl. You don't have the numbers, you don't have the youth, and most importantly, you don't have the power."

"So tell me, who's going to waste their money on you?"

"Let me answer that for you...NOBODY!!!"

"YOU need us just as much as we need you!" He said, slamming his fist on the table.

With IU being the sole artist under EDAM's wing, she was their only real source of revenue. However, from their perspective, her music career wasn’t keeping up with the rapidly changing K-pop landscape. Compared to today’s idols, her Spotify monthly listeners lagged behind, her music videos didn’t rack up views as quickly, and international streaming numbers weren’t what they could be. The company saw a clear solution. If IU abandoned her creative freedom and let them take control, they could reshape her image, Westernize her sound, and push her into the mainstream global market. They knew the potential was there, and if she just played along, the profits could be astronomical.

"What happened? Where is this side coming from?" She asked.

"You were supposed to be my best friend, my manager, my emotional support, and all of a sudden, you've turned into this corporate monster." IU added, her eyes starting to tear up.

"The industry has changed, IU, and so has EDAM."

"We have to adapt, or we'll die, and I won't let us die." He said, his tone sounding like your typical day-to-day CEO of a company, obsessed with numbers, power and control.

"What about us, what about the friendship we had for the past FIFTEEN years?"

"IU...I'm just doing what's best for business. I hope you can understand."

The room went silent for the next couple of minutes, neither side wanting to back down from their positions. From IU's side, it was a matter of protecting her values and her brand. On EDAM's side, it was a matter of optimizing IU, and turning her into the biggest money-making machine as possible.

IU knew he was right. There was no way any company was going to sign her, not at her age. Starting from scratch was a no-go either. She was rich, but not that filthy rich, to create a company from nothing, especially now without her manager.

"Jieun...listen..."

"Don't...don't you dare call me that."

"How important is this for you? To stay true to your roots and to keep your identity as a K-Pop idol?"

"Everything. It...it means everything to me."

"Very well..." He said, reaching into his briefcase and pulling out yet another contract.

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but..."

"The rest of the board members and I discussed another possibility. One that would allow you to do whatever you wanted, without any pressure from us." He added, tossing the contract onto the large wooden oval table.

"What's the catch?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took his time walking around the table, stopping beside her. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You see...there's something I've wanted from you for a very long time."

"Do I need to say it, or do you know where this is going?" He added, with a sickening grin spread across his face.

"I...I know where this going..." IU responded, her heart practically shattering into a million pieces, and her body feeling disgusted at the thought.

She had heard the stories...so many of them. Trainees who had their dreams dangled in front of them like bait, only to be forced into submission behind closed doors. Idols, some of whom had come to her in confidence, broken and ashamed, whispering about the things they had endured to secure a debut, a comeback, a single opportunity to further their careers and achieve their dreams in an industry that never played fair.

It had scorched her for years, haunted her in ways she never spoke about. Because she knew the truth...she knew it firsthand. Because once, a long time ago, when she was just a girl fighting for a place in this world, it happened to her. And now, after all these years, after everything she had built, everything she had overcome, it was happening again.

She thought those days were long gone. Never in a million years she thought she'd have to go through it again, especially this late into her music career, but she was wrong. It turned out that the industry hadn't changed. It had always been the same, and no matter how much time passed, there was nothing people could do to stop the monsters that lurked within it.

"Is this really the only way?"

"Yes...that is what the board wants. They want to see you, in ALL your glory." He said, moving behind her and rubbing his hands on her nude, cold shoulders.

"But they're not here."

"But the camera is." He said, pointing at the camera on the corner of the ceiling.

"If you agree, I'll press a button, and they'll be able to watch and listen to EVERYTHING that happens here."

"So that's it? I just need to suck your cock, and I'm free forever?"

"Oh, no. Hell no. No, no, no, IU. You're going to have to do a whole lot more than that."

"The board wants to see you used and humiliated. They want to see you get taken by everyone in this room."

IU's stomach churned, and a wave of nausea rose up inside her. This was not the path she ever wanted to take. IU knew she had other options. She had a way out of this, and yet, somehow, this was still her best option.

"And that is all? If I give you my body, you promise that you will leave my creative freedom alone?"

"If you do this and accept it, you are allowed to do whatever you want with your career from now on. We will never push you to do something you don't want. You will have full control."

Everything that the CEO said beforehand stung like a thousand needles, but that last line was the light at the end of the tunnel. What IU had always wanted. What she thought she had and was suddenly taken away from her for just some more money, at the cost of creative control. She could have it once again, and forever this time. All she had to do was let them have their way with her, and record everything.

"So...do we have a deal?"

"If this is what it takes...then yes. Take me." She said, surrendering her body to him. The CEO's grin only grew bigger, and he didn't hesitate pressing the button and turning on the camera, making sure the red light was on, so that the rest of the board could watch what was about to go down.

"Jieun, are you sure about this?" Her lawyer said.

"Yes. I w-want this...I...I need this."

Before IU could say any more words, she felt a pair of hands grab her neck and push over onto the table. It was the company's black bodyguard, just following orders from his boss. IU's own bodyguard stepped up to protect her, but IU intervened.

"No. Let him."

"Are you sure, miss Lee?"

"Yes...this needs to happen. It's for my future."

Her lawyer and bodyguard watched as IU got put on her knees and got surrounded by the three other men, all eager for her touch and attention.

"C'mon Jieun...take out our cocks and start sucking." He said, loosening the tie around his neck and removing his suit jacket.

"I told you to not call me that. You've lost that privilege." She said, resentment flickering across her face as she dropped his pants and took out his cock.

To her surprise, it was much bigger than she had expected—far larger than any of her past boyfriends. Not that she would ever admit it. She would rather let him fuck her than give him the satisfaction of hearing her say it.

"I can call you whatever the fuck I want. I've waited for this for more than ten years. Ten fucking years, praying that one day you'd turn to me and ask me to fuck you senseless, and here I am, finally getting what I want."

"WHAT I DESERVE!!!" He shouted, stomping his foot on the table.

"Are you going to let me suck your cock or what?! I can't fucking do it if you keep complaining and moving around like a corporate little BITCH." She shouted back, showing the real anger and resentment she was feeling.

"Uhhh, feisty...I like that. Fifteen years together, and this is the first time I've seen this side of you."

Her former manager stayed still, and IU parted her lips. Her mouth had barely opened before it was stuffed with cock. It was hot and throbbing, and she felt his hand tighten around her hair.

"Fuck...I've wanted this for so long."

He gave a satisfied moan and pushed her head deeper, her throat stretching to accommodate his thickness. IU struggled to breathe, her nose pressing against his pubes and the smell of musk invading her nostrils, and the problem was, it was not an unpleasant one.

IU couldn't explain it, but the way his cock stretched her lips and got harder in her mouth, the musky scent filling her senses, and the salty taste of his pre-cum on her tongue sent an unexpected shiver through her body. Despite the anger and frustration burning inside her, she couldn't ignore the way her body responded to it. She could feel her panties getting wetter with each thrust of his hips, and the sight of her own drool trickling down her chin was making her pussy ache with need.

She'd never imagined herself in this position, but there was no denying that it felt good. So good, that despite her best efforts, she couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped her lips as he buried his cock deep inside her throat.

Around her, the other two men dropped their pants to reveal their hard cocks. The lawyer's dick had some decent size to it, but IU's eyes were all over the bodyguards massive black cock. She reached out to grab both of them and stroked them slowly.

"Look at you, doing things so willingly. I didn't have to ask you."

IU ignored him and instead remained focused on the task at hand. Her tongue lapped at the underside of his shaft, and her lips slid up and down his length, her saliva making it slick and easy to glide in and out. He threw his head back, lost in the pleasure of her mouth, and that's when he noticed her lawyer and her bodyguard still watching from the sidelines.

"Hey, you two. Come here. The company wants all of us to use this slut, and that includes both of you."

They looked at each other before looking at IU, as if asking for her permission. She nodded at them and continued sucking off her former manager. IU switched soon after, taking another dick into her mouth and stroking two more as she waited for her lawyer's and bodyguard's cocks.

Just like the company's bodyguard, hers was also packing, but that's something she already knew. When she was on tour, he was her form of stress relief after long shows. Truth be told, it had been a long time since IU had seen his huge dick, as she was on hiatus, due to her acting commitments.

As for her lawyer, he wasn't far behind. She had never seen him naked, and she was quite surprised by the length of his shaft. IU finally found herself surrounded by them and their big cocks. It had been months since the last time she had sex with anyone, so now, to be surrounded by five big dicks, her body couldn't help but respond.

IU needed her creative freedom, and her body needed this...badly!

Her CEO moved behind her, dropping to his knees and lifting her dress, exposing her perky tits. He started to squeeze and grope them, as IU kept switching from one cock to another, constantly trying to give each one an equal amount of attention.

IU's tight skirt was up next. He quickly pulled it down to her knees alongside her underwear, giving him an unobstructed view of her tight pussy and her plump ass. She had an amazing ass, round and juicy, and it looked even better when it was naked and on display. But as much as he liked IU's ass, her pussy had his full attention.

He put his hand between her legs and ran a finger along her slit, causing her to gasp and her entire body to shiver. IU's pussy was beyond soaked. She was dripping, and he could feel her wetness coating his fingers. He couldn't help but smirk at the knowledge that despite all her protests, IU was secretly enjoying this.

"Fucking slut. Look at this." He said, bringing his fingers up and showing them to her.

"You are enjoying this, I knew it."

IU looked at his fingers and couldn't help but smile around the cock in her mouth. She hated the way her body was betraying her, and yet, there was something incredibly arousing about being the center of attention and getting pleasured by five men at the same time.

He rubbed her clit a couple more times, and then plunged a finger deep inside her, pumping it in and out, causing her body to jerk and her moans to increase. Her pussy was tight and wet, and the sounds of his fingers moving inside her were intoxicating.

"Do you have nothing to say, Jieun?"

IU stopped bobbing her head around the cock in her mouth and let it drop from her lips, before tilting her head to the side and glancing over her shoulder at him, her eyes burning with lust and her chest rising and falling as she panted for air.

"Shut up and just fuck me already."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt his hands on her back, pushing her forward. IU used her hands to soften the impact, and she found herself on all fours, ass raised and exposed, her face hovering just inches from her bodyguard's cock.

"Do it...fuck my face. It's not like you haven't done it before."

"Are you sure, miss Lee?"

"Yes...make me gag on it."

IU could tell her bodyguard was still feeling a bit guilty, but his urges won over, and he grabbed a hold of her head. She felt him guide her towards his shaft, and she parted her lips to welcome it inside her warm and inviting mouth.

"Wait, what? You seriously let him fuck you before me?" Her former manager said, furious that she had let her own bodyguard have her before him, the man who had spent years supporting her.

"That's none of your fucking business." IU said, after pulling away from the dick in her mouth.

She grabbed his length and slapped it on her tongue a few times, before putting his cock back in her mouth.

"You are gonna pay for that, slut." The CEO said.

He didn't waste any time, immediately burying his face between her legs and running his tongue up her slit, lapping up her juices. It had been a long time since she'd had anything inside her pussy, so it was a shock when his tongue entered her and his fingers spread her folds open, sending sparks of pleasure throughout her body.

IU had no idea her pussy could be so sensitive, and her mind went fuzzy as he devoured her. The feeling of his lips and tongue working her clit was incredible, and the sensation of him sucking on her inner lips and flicking his tongue back and forth had her gasping and moaning.

A pool of IU's spit had formed underneath her head, as the lawyers and the bodyguards took turns fucking her face over and over again. She was a drooling mess for their big cocks, and she was having way too much fun taking their lengths down her throat. So much so, that she was caught off guard when her CEO's tongue slipped out of her pussy, only to be replaced by the tip of his cock.

The sensation of him pushing himself inside her, inch by inch, was something that she had almost forgotten what it felt like—to have a cock inside her pussy.

"So fucking tight...just like I thought it would be."

"Can't believe I finally get the chance to fuck the shit out of you."

He gripped her ass and began pounding into her, the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the room. His thrusts were relentless, and IU found herself struggling to stay focused on the cocks in front of her, the feeling of her CEO's dick pounding into her, and the pleasure that was building deep within her was almost overwhelming, and she started moaning out loudly.

Her moans were muffled by the dick in her mouth, and her pussy tightened around her former manager's cock as she rocked her hips back and forth. Being spitroasted on top of the table and getting passed around like a slut was definitely not on her bingo card when she woke up that morning, but the truth was, she had never felt more alive.

Wanting to hear her moans, her former manager pulled her up by the hair, forcing her back to arch and her tits to bounce freely with each thrust. His hand slid around her waist, and he started playing with her clit, rubbing it and squeezing it between his fingers.

"Oh fuck, yesss. Right there, just like that." She said, throwing her head back in ecstasy.

"You love this, don't you? Admit it. You love getting fucked by five men at the same time." He whispered into her ear.

Whatever game IU was playing, of not wanting to admit it, was long gone—she had lost that game ages ago. There was no more point to keep denying, so she stopped fighting her body and mind. She decided to embrace her true desires, and just enjoy the moment.

"Mmmm hmmm...I love it. I love having five big cocks to play with."

"I want to feel all of your cocks inside me, please." She added, biting her fingernail.

"I knew it. You are nothing but a slut."

"A pathetic whore, standing up for yourself and your stupid creative freedom."

"You should let us fuck you and still let me control your career."

"Never! Just shut up and fuck me. Make me cum on your dick."

IU's wish was exactly what he wanted, so he gave her just that. He slammed his cock deeper inside her and increased the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room.

The more he fucked her, the harder it was for her to focus on the cocks in her mouth, and she had to let them go, and rest her face on the wooden table, drooling uncontrollably as the CEO slammed into her pussy.

That didn't stop the men from finding an angle in which they could offer their throbbing cocks to IU, and she gladly took them in. Whenever she was slurping on a dick, the others were either stroking their shafts or they were slapping them hard cocks on her messy face.

Her orgasm was building, and she could feel it approaching fast. The sensation of being stuffed full, the feeling of his balls smacking against her clit, and the way he was massaging it had her on the edge of climaxing. She tried to fight it, tried to hold back for as long as she could, but her body betrayed her, and she exploded in ecstasy, her body trembling and her pussy clamping down on the CEO's cock inside her.

"Good fucking slut. I thought I would never see this day...the day you came on my cock." He said, pulling out of her and slapping her ass with all his might, making her jolt slightly and let out a muffled whimper around the cock currently stuffed down her throat.

"I need a fucking rest. You boys have fun with that dumb slut." He added, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator before sitting down on a chair.

Initially, they behaved like a pack of hyenas, fighting each other to see which one could fuck IU's pussy first, but after arguing in for a while, they came to the conclusion that there was no point in fighting since they were all going to take turns on her.

The company's men were up first, with the lawyer taking her from behind whilst IU slobbered all over the bodyguard's huge black dick. She wrapped her hand around the base of his length and stroked him, as she swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock, making him groan in pleasure.

"Fuckkkk, suck my black cock just like that, bitch. I'm going to fuck the shit out of that ass later on."

IU looked at him and gave him a dirty look, as if she was challenging him to do his worst. She was a bit scared, since it had been ages since the last time she had a cock up her ass, but she was also too far gone in the pleasure to want anything else. She couldn't wait to have his massive black cock stretching her asshole.

The two of them were not holding anything back. They were using her like a fuckdoll, slamming into her over and over, forcing her to gag and choke on the bodyguard's black dick, and making her tits bounce with every thrust. It was the most intense sexual experience she had ever had, and she couldn't get enough of it.

Eventually, they made way for IU's own personnel to use her. Unlike the company's men, they went much slower, taking their time to enjoy her body. They also knew the situation IU was in, only doing this to get what she wanted, so they decided to go easy on her. As much as IU wanted to be taken, she was never going to complain about a little "break".

Being his first time with IU, her lawyer was thrusting in faster than her bodyguard, unable to contain his excitement of finally fucking the most respected soloist in South Korea. Her bodyguard let IU do whatever she wanted to his long, hard cock, and fortunately for him, that was rapid deepthroats, with a little bit of ball sucking mixed in.

Whenever she wasn't impaling her head on his shaft, her hand was taking care of it, sliding up and down on it as her mouth concentrated on his balls, taking them both in her mouth and giving them the attention they deserved.

"Fuckkkk, I love this cock so fucking much."

"Damn...it's been ages since the last time we did this, Miss Lee."

"Don't tell me about it. I need to release an album and go on tour again, so I can have this cock every day, before and after the shows." She said, before going back to worship his massive shaft.

The four guys kept swapping between themselves as they kept spitroasting IU, and they couldn't help but wonder how she was able to take all their dicks over and over again, and still talk and moan as they fucked both of her holes. She was like a machine, never getting tired, no matter how much cock was stuffing her.

IU kept getting pounded and passed around like a slut nonstop, loving every single second of it. The taste of their pre-cum on her tongue and the feeling of their big, thick cocks sliding in and out of her mouth and pussy was intoxicating, and the knowledge that she was bringing these men pleasure with her body was extremely arousing.

"Looks like you're having fun, Jieun...taking cock after cock, huh?" The CEO pointed out, to which IU simply nodded her head the best she could, with her lips sealed tight around her lawyer's cock.

"I can't hear you...I wanna hear you say it."

IU let go of the dick in her mouth before she answered his question.

"I do. I love taking all of your cocks. I need moreeee!" She said, her eyes full lust.

"I'm so glad we are in agreement, Jieun." He said, letting out a laugh, before turning around and making his way to the wall-mounted safe.

At this point, IU no longer cared about him using her real name. All she wanted was to drain their cocks so that she could have the contract that she so badly desired.

"Remember this? So many reunions in this office...you always asked what's inside, and I never told you. You spent several minutes before and after each meeting, trying to crack the code without any success."

"Are you ready to find out what's inside?"

IU, naked and on her knees in the middle of table, with spit running down her chin, simply nodded her head, eager to finally know the contents of the safe.

Her former manager didn't keep her waiting for too long. He entered the passcode and turned the handle, causing the safe door to open. Once opened, he pulled the door fully open, and showed her the content.

From what IU could see, inside the safe there were stacks of money, a bunch of documents, and a gun. However, that wasn't what her CEO was looking for. He reached inside, searching through the contents until his fingers closed around something specific. When he pulled out a thick coil of rope, IU's breath caught in her throat. She knew exactly what was about to happen.

She had never been tied up during sex before, and the thought of being restrained and used entirely for their pleasure sent a shiver down her spine. It was both intriguing and terrifying.

As IU tried to process what was coming, the company's bodyguard suddenly moved her aside, taking her spot where she had been kneeling. He lay down on his back, broad and steady, before he turned to her.

"Come here, bitch."

She obeyed, settling on top of him, her back pressing against his chest. He adjusted her, pulling her higher until her shoulders rested on his, her head hanging back over his shoulder. As for IU's own bodyguard stepped between her legs, waiting for the CEO's next orders.

The CEO handed him the rope, while gripping IU's legs. At the same time, the company's lawyers took hold of her arms, forcing them against her legs.

"Tie her up like this."

Her bodyguard hesitated for a split second before nodding.

"I'm sorry, Miss Lee."

"It's okay. I want this. Trust me."

Even with her reassurance, guilt flickered across his face. He made sure to tie the knots just loose enough to keep her comfortable, but still tight enough to keep her restrained.

When he was finished, the others slowly let go, leaving IU bound and immobilized, her limbs tightly secured, with only the strength of her muscles and the rope keeping her restrained.

The CEO placed himself in front of her and started to stroke his hard cock inches away from her face, whilst he played with her tits with his other.

"Are you ready Jieun?"

"Yes. Shove those big dicks inside me and pump me full of cum."

"My holes are yours to use and play with."

There was no more hesitation in IU's. There was no hole of hers that was off limits. She was bound and helpless, completely at their mercy, and she loved it.

With a grin on his face, the CEO pressed the tip of his cock against her lips, and they parted instantly, welcoming his shaft inside. As her tongue ran along his length, he started thrusting in and out of her mouth.

As for the bodyguards, they each grabbed hold of their shafts and pressed them against IU's respective holes, before slowly sliding them inside her, one inch at a time. Even with a cock down her throat, a loud moan could still be heard, as she felt the sensation of her pussy and asshole being filled with their thick shafts.

They started off slowly, savoring the moment and letting IU adjust to having their big cocks inside her. With her legs tied and her hands secured, there was no way for her to move or to guide their pace, so she was completely at their mercy, forced to lay there and take whatever they had to offer.

After a couple of minutes, they picked up the pace, and unsurprisingly out of the two bodyguards, it was IU's who was fucking her slowest, taking his time with her and making sure she was comfortable.

As much as IU loved having her bodyguard treating her like a delicate flower, she wanted more. She needed him to fuck her pussy harder and make her scream. But she couldn't speak, not when her throat was currently filled with a huge cock.

Her former manager was giving her no quarter, pounding her throat hard. He was thrusting in and out of her, filling her mouth with his length, and causing her to choke and gag on his cock.

"Look at you, taking these cocks so well. I should've done this sooner." He said, putting one hand on her breast and pinching her nipple.

Her other nipple was not getting any less attention. The company's bodyguard had his hand wrapped around it and was twisting it hard, making IU gasp sharply before letting out a muffled moan. He had his other hand around her waist, holding her still as he fucked her tight asshole with his big black cock.

"You are such an anal slut, taking my black dick like that."

"I'm going to fuck it hard until I cum deep inside it."

"Gonna make sure you won't be able to walk for a whole week after I'm done with you."

These weren't just words being thrown around—he was dead serious. The guy was relentless, using her body however he wanted, thrusting in and out of her ass with authority and claiming her asshole for himself.

The two lawyers were the only ones left without a place to put their cocks, so they decided to join the CEO, kneeling next to IU's head so that they could slap their hard cocks across her face. They were enjoying the view in front of them, seeing an airtight bound IU being used like a whore.

IU had been double penetrated a handful of times before, but not with cocks as big as these. She could feel their lengths sliding in and out of her holes, filling her up and stretching her to new limits. It was an incredible feeling, one that had her moaning around the dick currently stuffed down her throat.

"Are you enjoying this Jieun?" The CEO asked, obviously not getting an answer.

"Don't you know it's rude not to reply?" He added, pulling his cock out of her mouth.

Before IU could respond, his cock was already back inside her mouth, hitting the back of her throat a couple of times, before pulling it out once more, this time to slap her in the face.

"Answer me, Jieun."

"Mmmm, I'm enjoying it...a lot." She replied, her voice barely audible.

She was completely cock drunk, unable to think or process anything besides the sensation of her holes being filled.

"How does it feel, slut? To have a big cock inside each and every single one of your holes?"

"Taking all of them at the same time? ANSWER ME!"

IU took her sweet time, trying to form a sentence in her mind. In her defense, it was kinda hard to come up with anything when she had two massive cocks in her holes, and another two constantly hitting her face, with another one just inches away from her lips.

"Good...it...it feels good. But I want more, though. I need more, please."

"What more can we give you? What the fuck?"

"Your cum. Don't stop using me until you drain those balls inside me."

"And please tell my bodyguard to go as hard as he can."

"Fuck...you are nothing but a dumb, cockhungry slut."

"You heard her, big fella. Go wild on that pussy and make her scream." He said, slapping IU's bodyguard on the shoulder.

IU's bodyguard shot the CEO a sharp glare, his expression making it clear he didn’t appreciate the slap on his shoulder, or being ordered around. But then his gaze dropped to IU, her body trembling, her muffled moans pleading for more. He exhaled sharply through his nose, holding back his displeasure. This wasn’t about the CEO. It was about her. Tightening his grip on her waist, he pushed his frustration aside and focused on giving IU exactly what she wanted—his big cock, deep inside her.

IU let out a sharp gasp as his hips started hammering into her. The sudden force took her by surprise, but the pain quickly morphed into pleasure. His cock was pounding her pussy with the kind of intensity she had never experienced before—not even with him. The noise of their bodies colliding echoed throughout the room, as he repeatedly thrust into her, holding nothing back.

The same thing could be said for CEO and his bodyguard. They were using her like a ragdoll, hammering away at her holes and fucking her brains out, showing her no mercy. IU's body belonged to them, and they were not going to stop until they had drained their balls inside her.

IU was an absolute mess. Her arms and legs ached from being tied up, a dull numbness creeping in as circulation slowed. Sweat coated her entire skin, making her body slick against the one beneath her. With her head hanging upside down, the rush of blood made her feel lightheaded, a dizzy haze settling over her senses. Her neck throbbed from the unnatural angle, but she barely registered the discomfort, too lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

Her pussy and ass were sore, the sensation of her holes being stretched and filled to the brim was borderline unbearable. But at the same time, it was also an addictive feeling, and she couldn't get enough. She didn't care how sore she would be after this experience, all she wanted was to drain their balls dry.

Luckily for her, she didn't have to wait much longer. Her former manager's dick was starting to pulse, the signs that he was close. He had been using her mouth like his personal fleshlight for the past several minutes now, with IU having long lost the ability to lick and suck his shaft properly. The constant throat fucking had not only left her jaw was tired, but had also left her in a complete daze, and she had been reduced to nothing but a tool for him to fuck.

"Do you want my cum, Jieun?" He asked, pulling his cock out of her mouth.

IU tried to reply, but no sound came out. His dick had stolen almost all of her ability to speak, leaving her pretty much incapable of doing anything else besides moaning and groaning around his shaft.

"Well, I hope you're ready, cuz I'm about to fill your slutty little mouth."

He held her head in place and rammed his cock down her throat as fast as he could, hitting the back of it several times, before finally erupting. IU's eyes went wide and a muffled, gagging sound could be heard as she felt the hot spurts of his cum splashing inside her mouth and hitting the back of her throat.

After what seemed like ages, he finally pulled out of her mouth, and IU was left with no other choice but to swallow every last drop of his cum.

"Fuck...I've waited for this moment for longer than you can imagine..."

"Thank you for caring about such a worthless thing, Jieun." He added, getting off the table and stumbling towards a chair.

With the CEO now out of the picture, she thought her mouth would catch a break, but the lawyers had other ideas. Both of them were eager to have their dicks stuffed down any hole of hers, and with her mouth being the only one available, they shoved their cocks inside, forcing her to suck on their shafts at the same time.

It was one thing to have three cocks inside her, but to have four of them...it was something entirely different. It was too much for IU, and even with having an orgasm earlier on, it wasn't long until she reached another climax.

Her bodyguard felt her pussy walls tighten around his dick, her orgasm crashing into her like a tidal wave, and it was enough to push him over the edge. He had dumped his load inside her many times before, but this was different. He was always alone with her in those previous times, and now he was here, cumming inside her as she was being taken and used like a slut by everyone in the room.

IU barely had any time to process that her bodyguard had given her a creampie before she felt another thick load of cum being deposited inside her, this time in her round ass.

"I told you I was going to ruin you and make a mess out of your ass, bitch." He said, pulling his massive black cock out of her asshole.

She had no way to see the damage his big black cock had done, but judging from the feeling, she knew her asshole was gaping and stretched wide open. Her bodyguard had the perfect view, and even he was shocked by seeing IU's gaping asshole, and the cum dripping out of it.

With the bodyguards done with her holes, they decided to pull her to the side and untie her. As soon as they did so, IU's limbs came crashing down, and they were so numb that she barely had the strength to move them. She lay there motionless, her entire body aching and stinging, the ache settling deep into her bones.

However, that wasn't stopping her from having more. Despite everything, her desire was still burning, and she wanted more cocks, more cum, and most importantly, the contract.

"Cum...please..."

It was all she could say, and the lawyers didn't need more convincing. They moved IU and placed her on her knees, on top of the table. She was so out of it, that her head just kept falling forward, and her own lawyer had to grab it, or else they would just have to be pleased with covering her hair in their seed.

Neither of them wanted that, and neither did IU. Her face might've said otherwise, but she was eager to get their loads plastered all over her face, and they were excitedly stroking their shafts, getting ready to give her the facial of her life.

IU could barely see the outlines of the cocks that were now jerking off in front of her, but that didn't stop her from sticking out her tongue and opening her mouth wide, begging for their cum.

It was a matter of seconds before their cocks exploded at the same time, and she felt their warm cum being splattered across her face. They shot load after load of their cum all over her pretty face, covering it completely.

She looked unrecognizable. IU's hair was messy, her body was covered in sweat, and now her face was covered in multiple layers of cum, with most of it dripping down her chin. Her lawyer let go of her head, and she collapsed face first on the wooden table.

The CEO, already with his clothes back on, picked up the contract and signed it, before tossing it on the table once again.

"Hope it was worth it, Jieun."

"And don't forget to clean this mess." He added, instructing everyone to leave the room, including IU's men.

IU heard the sound of the doors being closed, and she was now alone in the room. After the intense experience she had just gone through, her brain was still struggling to process anything. Her head was spinning, and the taste of their cum was still present in her mouth, the scent lingering in her nostrils.

For the next fifteen minutes, IU didn’t move. She lay there, sprawled out on the table, her naked body sticky with sweat and cum, cooling rapidly in the empty room. The silence felt deafening, broken only by her slow, shallow breaths. A shiver ran down her spine as the cold air pricked at her damp skin, making her long for the warmth of a bath, the feeling of hot water washing away every trace of what had just happened.

Her thoughts were sluggish, drifting in and out, until the faint sound of the doors opening pulled her back. She could hear footsteps, but her vision was still blurry, and she couldn't make out who was walking into the room.

"You're still here? I thought you would have left by now." The CEO said.

"Don't mind me. Just using the bathroom. Gotta take a quick piss."

"No, s-stop..."

The CEO did stop in his tracks, not because of what she said, but mostly because he couldn't hear what was coming out of her mouth, her voice so low that it was barely audible.

"Use me...use me as your personal toilet."

He couldn't believe it. IU already had the contract and here she was, still asking for more, her mind undoubtedly broken beyond repair from the experience.

The CEO didn't waste any time, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. With one hand on his dick and the other on the back of her head, he lowered his cock towards her face, and let go. His warm piss started spraying out, covering IU's face, and then slowly running down her forehead and onto her eyes and nose.

Wanting to humiliate even further, he stood up and started pissing all over her naked body, coating it in his piss. Her skin turned golden under the yellow stream, his hot piss splashing down her tits and stomach. It was the ultimate humiliation, the final degradation.

IU didn't know what had come over her, but the idea of being used and degraded by this man, who was once her best friend, was so incredibly hot.

"You really are no different from all the other sluts in this industry."

He spat on her face and zipped up his pants. He took one last look at IU, laying there motionless, her naked body soaked in sweat, cum and his piss.

"What a fucking whore."

He walked away, and once again, the doors were shut, leaving her alone. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for IU. She had no idea how she was going to get herself out of this, but right now, she couldn't even bring herself to think about it. She was exhausted, her limbs felt like lead and her muscles were on fire. Her body was aching and begging for relief.

As IU lay there, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She was overwhelmed, her body wracked with emotion, the weight of everything she had just done crashing down on her. It was too much...too much.

But even then, even as she cried and sobbed, a part of her didn't regret any of it. The contract was hers and even though her dignity had been stripped from her, and her body was completely and utterly ruined, she couldn't deny that the feeling of having cum in all her holes, her face, and the CEO pissing all over her was so incredibly satisfying, to the point where she was already looking forward to the next meeting.

#iu smut #lee ji eun #kpop #iu #kpop smut

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covenofagatha · 2 days ago

Text

The psychology of love (Part 3)

Your first date with Morgan and a lesson in defense mechanisms and the delay of gratification

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: none yet, slowburn

Morgan and you go out to dinner the next day. You had seriously been considering just never texting her and making more of an effort to avoid her, but Wanda and Nat pestered you continuously during breakfast until you had given in.

Turns out, you were both free that night.

You had a class in the evening, so you meet her at the pizza place off-campus after. She’s wearing a light blue dress that brings out the color in her eyes and her Black Opium perfume makes you wish there was someone different sitting in front of you.

“Did you have a good day?” she asks while you’re waiting for your pizzas to be done cooking. The awkwardness of a first date is hanging over you, coupled with the fact that her fingers were inside you on Monday. You’re still a little shocked that happened.

But you nod and smile. Morgan is nice, and she’s trying. The least you could do is try as well. “Yeah, I had two classes. They’re both pretty easy. My hardest are definitely Physiological Psych and Personality Psych.”

Even the mention of the latter makes your stomach clench. Agatha has wormed her way into your brain and you don’t know how to get her out. The perfume you ordered should be here tomorrow and you regret buying it.

Realistically, what are you going to do with it? You can’t wear it—both Morgan and Agatha will pick up on it. It’d be absolutely pathetic to spray your pillow with it and imagine it’s Agatha next to you, plus Wanda would surely wonder about that.

Which means you spent one-hundred dollars on a bottle of perfume that’s going to sit on your desk and serve as a reminder that you’re delusional.

A waitress brings over your personal pizzas and sets them down in front of you, steam billowing off.

Morgan’s looking at you, a little expectantly, and you clear your throat. “How was your day?” you ask, realizing that you never returned the question.

“Pretty good, thanks. I had an International Relations class. We already have a quiz next Tuesday, which is crazy considering this was our second day of meeting.” You learned that she’s a Political Science major while you were waiting in line for pizza.

She doesn’t say anything else, so you chew on your lip and try to think of ways to get the conversation going. “So…how did you get into political science?” At least her face brightens at that.

“My dad works in local government and I’ve always been really interested in it. I’ve interned at his office since I was probably sixteen? I’ll be able to get a job with him once I graduate and then hopefully I can be elected for something,” she says before launching into a few stories about town halls that she’s been a part of. She’s from a small town in Indiana and the people there are apparently a little unhinged.

Morgan’s just telling you about a petition one man started to make his birthday a town holiday when the door to the restaurant opens and a familiar face walks in.

It’s Agatha’s standoffish TA. Morgan is still talking but your eyes follow Rio as she walks up to the counter and shows them her phone. The lady nods and picks up a boxed pizza that’s sitting next to her and hands it to Rio.

As she’s walking to the exit, she tilts her head over to you like she feels you staring. You quickly look away but in your periphery, you can see her coming closer until you have no choice but to crane your neck up at her.

“You’re in Professor Harkness’s class, aren’t you?” Rio asks, but it’s more of a statement than a question. She obviously remembers you from Agatha’s office yesterday.

You nod and she chuckles amusedly, tongue bulging in her cheek. Her complete one-eighty of a personality change is throwing you off.

Rio glances at Morgan and then back to you, a gleam in her eyes. “Good luck.” Before you can ask what she means—is she talking about Agatha’s class? talking about Morgan?—she shifts the pizza in her arms and strolls out the door without looking back.

Morgan raises an eyebrow at you. “That was weird.”

You choose to not say anything and take a bite of your pizza, instantly wincing when it burns your mouth. “Did the man get his petition approved?” you refer to what she had been talking about before Rio, and Morgan dives back into that memory.

She talks for most of dinner, only really taking a break while she’s eating, and then you walk her to her car. Thankfully, neither of you wants to hang out in the resultant once you’re both done with your food. She’s parked right in front whereas you had to find a spot in the garage behind the row of restaurants.

“Do you want me to give you a ride to your car?” Morgan offers and you pretend to think about it before shaking your head.

“No, that’s okay. It’s not very far.” There’s a minute of silent shuffling while you both try to figure out how to end the date. “Um, well I had a great time with you tonight. Let’s do this again soon?”

She smiles warmly. “I’d love that.” And then Morgan leans in to press a quick kiss to your cheek before getting in her car. Her perfume drifts into your nostrils and lingers and you hear Agatha’s voice telling you that you did very good. Heat flashes through you but you tamp it down.

You wait until Morgan drives off before turning to head to the parking garage, but you see another person that you know in the shadows.

Professor Harkness.

Your heart lurches as she pushes off the building wall she was leaning against and steps into the light. She’s wearing blue pants and a matching blazer over a black turtleneck. The gold from her necklace catches the streetlamp glow. Her long, loose hair frames her face and you can see her blue eyes glinting even in the dark.

Swallowing roughly, you irrationally worry that she’s going to be mad about you and Morgan. A part of you wants her to be mad.

But she just smirks instead. “Dinner with a friend?”

“Something like that,” you mutter, shrugging inconspicuously. “What are you doing here?” It seems like she’s waiting for someone—a date? Not that it matters, of course. You just want insight into your mysterious teacher.

She moves closer to you, close enough so you can smell her perfume. It’s getting really fucking confusing with both Agatha and Morgan wearing the same scent. “I’m just picking up dinner,” she hums. “Nothing as exciting as you.”

Your cheeks burn. “That wasn’t anything, just a first date. We met at a party a few days ago.” When I let her fuck me because she reminded me of you.

Agatha nods like she knows something you don’t. “Do you remember learning about defense mechanisms?”

“What?”

“In a general psych class, did you ever learn about defense mechanisms? Freudian methodology, of course, that believes our ego unconsciously wants to protect the superego from the id when we do something that would otherwise cause us anxiety, guilt, and shame.”

“I mean, yeah?” You’ve heard of them, but why is she bringing them up?

She waves a hand at your apparent confusion. “We’ll get more into them later in the semester. I just think it’s neat, you know? How we can be doing something and not even be aware that we’re doing it. Denial, rationalization,” she fixes you with a pointed look, “transference. The mind does really work in interesting ways.”

You nod and bite your nails, not sure what to say. It feels like you’re missing something by a mile.

But Agatha just smiles. “See you tomorrow in class, hon.” She winks before leaving you outside and you slowly trudge back to your car, completely dumbfounded.

Once you get back to your dorm, the conversation with Agatha still fresh in your mind, you halfheartedly return Wanda’s greeting and take out your computer and type “transference” into Google.

Transference is the psychological phenomenon where someone redirects feelings from one person onto another. It occurs when someone unconsciously projects feelings or desires onto someone else.

“Holy shit,” you say out loud, your blood running cold. Wanda’s head turns toward you but it’s like you have tunnel vision.

Was Agatha implying that you going out with Morgan is you redirecting your feelings toward your professor onto someone who looks like her?

Your heart is thumping so loud you can hear it. Are you being that obvious to Agatha? Can she tell that you have a crush on her?

As if to make matters worse, you get an email notification saying that a package has been delivered—the perfume. A whole day early, like the universe wants to prove its point.

You let it sit in the delivery room all night because you don’t trust yourself not to go crazy if you smell it right now.

But you barely get any sleep at all just thinking about it.

The next morning, Wanda and Nat interrogate you at breakfast. You had told Wanda the general basics of how the date had gone last night, but now they’re pressing you for the details, which you reluctantly give.

“It was good, she spent a lot of time talking about interning for her town’s government. She’s a Poli-Sci major—” Nat scoffs and rolls her eyes and Wanda laughs, “—and apparently her dad is like the mayor or a council member? I don’t know, I mean, she’s nice and all…”

“Oh, come on,” Wanda says, fond exasperation staining her voice. “You always do this. You meet a great girl and then you decide that she’s boring or that you don’t really like her or you make one tiny thing of their personality into a big problem. Why can’t you just let yourself have something?”

It stings how well she knows you. “I just…I don’t know…I’m just not sure we’d work that well together. And it doesn’t really make sense to get into a relationship now, does it? We’re graduating in the spring so why start something new if we’re going to end up in different places? She wants to go back to Indiana and I’ll probably stay here or go back home, so it just doesn’t seem like there’s much of a point.”

Nat looks unimpressed. “Really? That’s your excuse for why you’re going to self-sabotage? If only long-distance was a thing, god.”

Wanda pats her girlfriend’s hand and stifles a smirk at the sarcasm. “Just because it’s not going to end in marriage doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” she says gently. “Why not go on a few more dates, just to see what happens? And who knows? She could be worth it.”

It won’t work because she’s not at least twice my age. Except you can’t exactly tell your friends that. So instead you say, “Yeah, maybe.”

“Even if it’s not a relationship, it could be a friends-with-benefits situation,” Natasha adds and Wanda snorts. “You’ve already had sex with her so you already know what you’d be getting into.”

“Okay, okay,” you grimace at her crassness and push your chair back. “I have to get to class.”

You have about twenty minutes before it starts, so you’re not in a rush, but you need the walk to clear your head and mentally prepare for seeing Agatha. The quip about transference has you still reeling and it’s only the third day of this class but it’s already the second time you’ve been nervous to look at her. You’re not sure you can get in trouble for having a crush on a teacher but you certainly don’t want Agatha being uncomfortable around you.

So you’ll keep your distance. You’ll go to class and take notes and answer questions, but you’ll leave right after. You won’t let her praise affect you and you will definitely not get close enough to smell her perfume that makes your cunt pulse.

Practically everything you were just thinking goes out the window when you walk into class and see her standing at the front of the room.

Agatha’s wearing another turtleneck, white this time, under a tan blazer and matching pants. You wonder if she’s been wearing them to hide hickeys on her neck—but then you remind yourself that you don’t care, despite the growing feeling of jealousy in your stomach from your absolutely baseless speculations.

She smiles at you, something dark hidden behind her pink lips, and you shiver as you sit down. Does she know what she does to you? The praises, the projection tests from Wednesday, the way she looks at you?

She seems to like you more than the other students in the class—is that just because you answer questions? Does she encourage you for that because she needs someone to? You’ve had classes where absolutely no one would talk and it was awful. Her praising you for that could just be her way of making sure there’s not an awkward silence.

But it feels direct, pointed even. Like she wants it to be you.

Or is that just you hoping?

Agatha isn’t the first teacher you’ve had a crush on, not by a long shot. There was the English teacher when you were in eighth grade. She wasn’t even your teacher, but you still found excuses to talk to her. There was your ninth grade Biology teacher, and then you took her Environmental Science class senior year just to have her again. Your Developmental Psychology professor from the spring semester of your first year in college. You’re sure there’s more. Each time, though, you were certain that you were special.

Each time, you were sorely disappointed, but not surprised.

You want to say that it feels different with Agatha, but you need to get a grip on yourself.

She’s in her late forties, at least. She might have a partner. You glance at her hands as she’s typing something on the computer. No ring. That doesn’t mean anything, you tell yourself.

But she could get in serious trouble for sleeping with a student. If everything else worked out, if all the other stars aligned and by some way, she did want you, she’d never risk her job over that. She has two doctorates and has published multiple articles about her research, which you’ve been meaning to read, and has won several awards for her work. She’s devoted her whole life to psychology and you are not going to change that.

Agatha may tease, but at the end of the day, you feel confident that she will never be anything but professional, which means that you really need to get over this.

“Okay, getting back into Trait Theory,” Agatha starts and you scramble for your notebook. She clicks present on the slideshow and you begin scribbling down everything typed on the first slide. “Theorists who approach personality through the Trait approach want to know what exactly traits are and what they do. Do they describe how we behave? Are they a sum of all we’ve learned? Do they reflect underlying personality? Are they the building blocks of our personality?”

You chew on the tip of your pen and Agatha’s eyes flick to you with a glint in them. Her lips twitch up and you freeze.

“The problem with traits is that people are inconsistent. We act one way when we’re by ourselves and a different way when we’re with friends versus family versus professors versus romantic partners. So do situations predict behavior more than personality traits?”

Agatha surveys the classroom expectantly so you hesitantly raise your hand, wheels turning in your head trying to think of a sophisticated response. She smirks and nods at you. “I mean, I think situations obviously have some part in how we act, but it’s not like we’re completely different people based on who we’re interacting with. It could be kind of like, what traits do we use more of when we’re with some people and what traits do we use less of?”

Her brows furrow and you can see her mulling it over. “So you’re saying that we have a bank of traits, of consistent traits, but which ones we tap into depends on who we’re with?”

“Yes?” Your voice wavers but you hold eye contact with her.

Agatha hums thoughtfully. “Very good. I like that.” Your cheeks flush and you duck your head, the eye contact becoming too intense. “And it brings us to an interesting thought. I want everyone to write down how you consider yourself personality-wise. And then write down some traits you’d use to describe your best friends.”

You write some general words down for you and then for Wanda and Nat. It’s hard to sum someone’s personality up like that. Glancing around the room, you see everyone’s still working so you pick at your nails and pretend that you don’t feel Agatha staring at you.

The compulsion grows too great in you, though, so you look at her. She doesn’t seem abashed that you caught her—if anything, she looks excited. You swallow roughly to get some moisture into your suddenly-dry mouth and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. Her eyelashes flutter, maybe just enough to be considered a wink, but then someone coughs and the moment is broken.

Agatha clears her throat. “Take a look at what words you wrote for yourself and then compare them to the words you wrote for your friends. Chances are, there’s a good amount of overlap. Opposites attract sometimes, but it’s more often than not that we choose to surround ourselves with people that have similar personalities to us. If we do that, then our traits might be influencing the situations that we’re in, which influences our behavior. It’s a lot to think about.”

She clicks to the next slide.

“Psychologists have found that both situations and traits influence behavior about equally after conducting some experiments that we’ll look at another time. Now,” she turns off the projection and the screen at the front of the room goes dark. Everyone looks at her. “I want to talk to you about an opportunity for next week.”

Someone out of the corner of your eye perks up. “Extra credit?”

Agatha shoots him down with a glare. “It’s the third class of the semester, first of all. Second of all, there will be no extra credit in this course.”

He slumps down, defeated. You think he might be the same person from the first day who was upset about only having five grades.

“We will have a speaker on campus next Tuesday evening at six pm giving a presentation on fallacies from famous psychological experiments. I’ll be sending out more information about it, but I think it will be very interesting, especially for this class. It’s optional, but I do heavily recommend attending.”

You raise your hand and she smiles. “What studies are they going to look at?”

“Excellent question. The presentation will look at the Rosenthal study on expectancy effects, the Stanford Prison Experiment, among a few others, and one of my personal favorites: the study on delay of gratification.”

“Is that the one—” a girl begins to say before Agatha interrupts her like she didn’t even hear the student.

“Mischel and Ebbesen would call kids into a room one-by-one and tell them that they could either have a small candy bar right away, or wait some unknown amount of time for a larger candy bar. The researchers would leave the room and see what the kids would do.” Her blue eyes pierce into you and her face morphs into something almost predatory. “Is it better to get instant relief for something small, or to wait and let the anticipation build up for a better reward?”

She prompts you with a tilt of her head and you wonder if she can see the slight sheen of sweat breaking out on your forehead. “If it’s going to be worth it to wait,” you rasp.

Agatha licks her lips before nodding slowly and then settles back into her casual demeanor. “I mean, who doesn’t want a bigger candy bar?” she jokes and there’s a titter throughout the room. She gives you a smug smile and you face forward, cheeks burning.

She continues talking but you’ve completely zoned out. You feel like a kid in the experiment—have something with Morgan, real but fleeting, or wait for even the possibility of Agatha? Once you’re not her student anymore, there shouldn’t be a problem. And you graduate in the spring anyway.

But that’s if Agatha would even like you back then.

What happens if the researcher never comes back with the big candy bar after the kid waits forever?

She finally wraps up class, saying that she needs to rush off to a meeting and you slowly pack up your bag just in case she lingers. She may be in a hurry, but it’s nothing compared to the other students and it’s only a minute before you and her are the only ones left in the room.

The air feels thick with electricity and tension and it’s like you’re rooted to your seat when she starts to slowly walk toward you. You can feel your heartbeat increase and your breathing quickens—your body wants to run but it can’t.

“Great job today,” she mumbles and drums her fingertips atop your desk surface, her perfume rolling over you like a wave, and you don’t even realize that she’s gone until you hear the door shut behind you.

You shakily stand up and swing your bag onto your shoulders and go to the library, desperately trying to ignore the heat between your legs.

After dinner, you pick up the package containing the perfume on your way back to your dorm. You’re almost afraid to open and smell it because you know your body will betray your mind. Your cunt has become conditioned to the scent—conditioned to Agatha—and you really need to figure out how to stop it. You’d throw out the bottle entirely if you hadn’t spent so much money on it. You’ll find some use for it, maybe for a party or something.

Just as you get into your room, your phone buzzes with an email. Your heart starts to race when you see Agatha Harkness at the top of it and you quickly click on it.

To your dismay, it’s just a course email.

Hello Personality Psych,

Here is the link for information concerning the speaker presentation next Tuesday evening that I mentioned in class. As a reminder, you will not receive any extra credit for attending, but it is an opportunity to learn more about flaws in renowned psychological experiments. Please email me if you are interested so I can get your name on the list.

Best,

Professor Harkness

You chew on your lip. It’s not something that you necessarily want to go to, and for no extra credit, it might be a waste of time.

But you do seriously doubt that anyone else in your class is going to go, which would make you stand out to Agatha.

You imagine walking into a room full of people you don’t know, anxiously scanning the crowd, to find her smiling at you and beckoning for you to go sit next to her. She’d lean in to whisper some remarks about the speaker into your ear and her hair would tickle your skin. Maybe you’d be bouncing your leg because of your trouble sitting still and she’d put a hand on your thigh to help you focus.

Fuck. Your cheeks are burning now and the temptation to open the perfume so it feels like she’s there is gnawing strongly inside you.

Instead, you compose a new email.

Hi Professor Harkness,

I would love to attend the presentation.

Thanks!

You sign it off with your name and hit send before you can rethink it and then throw your phone to the end of the bed.

The moment you press your hands to your face because you can’t believe how bad this is getting, your phone vibrates. You know what it’s going to be before you even look at it, and yet you’re still surprised to find that Agatha responded almost immediately.

I’m very glad to hear that and I look forward to seeing you there.

Professor Harkness.

Only this time, instead of the regular email signature under her name, and every other professor’s name in their emails, that shows her position, the university name, and her email address, there’s something else as well.

Ten digits. Your breath catches in her throat.

She added her phone number.

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7 @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut

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frarxvr · 3 days ago

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The Internet Never Forgets – A Charles Leclerc

Charles should have known better.

He had spent years in the spotlight, years learning how to keep things private, years mastering the art of saying everything and nothing at the same time.

But apparently, he wasn’t as good at it as he thought.

Because the internet? The internet never forgets.

The Soft Launch That Wasn’t So Soft

It started innocently enough—a summer getaway with his closest friends. No sponsors, no media obligations, just a few days of relaxation before the chaos of the next Grand Prix.

Charles had planned it well. He knew how fast rumors could start, so he made sure there were no obvious clues. No couple pictures, no secret hand-holding in the background, nothing suspicious.

But his friends? They didn’t get the memo.

The first picture that set things off was from Andrea’s Instagram story. A casual group dinner. Charles was laughing, a glass of wine in hand. But right next to him, slightly out of focus, was a girl.

Always next to him.

Then Joris posted a story from the yacht. Another group shot. Charles in swim trunks, laughing at something—and the same girl was next to him again.

Fans noticed immediately.

"Who is this girl always next to Charles???"

"Wait… is this a soft launch???"

"I love how all his friends are posting, but no one is tagging her. They know what they’re doing."

Within hours, Twitter and TikTok were in full detective mode. People started piecing together details—matching outfits, analyzing reflections, even zooming in on sunglasses to see if her face was visible.

And then someone remembered.

"WAIT. I swear I’ve seen her before???"

Charles had posted a Monaco vlog last year. Just a normal behind-the-scenes video—his morning gym routine, grabbing coffee, a day at the Ferrari garage, then a boat day with friends.

No big deal.

Except… she was in it.

Not just in the background, not just a random guest—she was talking to Charlotte.

"GUYS. SHE WAS IN HIS MONACO VLOG LAST YEAR."

"Not us thinking she’s new when she’s been around THIS WHOLE TIME."

Clips resurfaced. Slow-motion zoom-ins. Frame-by-frame analysis.

Someone even found an old Instagram story from Charlotte, a blurry picture of a group at a restaurant—where Y/N was right next to Charles.

The internet went feral.

"How did we MISS THIS???"

"She was literally there all along."

"Not the world discovering a relationship through detective work."

Charles was lying on the yacht, scrolling through his phone, when he saw the chaos unfold. His group chat with his team was full of links. His notifications were insane.

He groaned, rubbing his face. "Merde."

Y/N, lounging beside him, looked up from her book. "What now?"

He passed her the phone. "We’ve been caught."

She took one glance and burst out laughing. "Oh my god, they really found the Monaco video?"

He groaned again. "They found everything."

Y/N smirked, scrolling through the TikToks. "Honestly? I respect it."

Charles shook his head. "I thought we were being careful."

She raised an eyebrow, turning to him with a knowing look. "Babe, you literally make this easy for them."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

She flipped the phone to show him all the pictures from their friends’ stories. "Every time there’s a group picture, you make sure I’m next to you. Every. Single. Time."

Charles let out a dramatic sigh. "So what? I like having you near me."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "And that’s exactly why they figured it out."

He smirked, leaning in closer. "Well, maybe I wanted them to know."

She gasped, swatting his arm. "Charles!"

He just laughed, pulling her against him. "Let them talk, mon amour. The secret’s out now."

#charles leclerc x yn #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x female reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you

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katsu28 · 3 days ago

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hi kait! idk if you’re writing for him but would you do something for max? maybe just waiting for him to finish a race and he doesn’t really have a good one? and maybe being with him and being calm as he comes down from the adrenaline? thank you!!

happy testing week folks!! sorry this took so long, enjoy <3

max verstappen x reader, 1.2k.

Max Verstappen is a winner.

Forged through blood, sweat, tears, and some very questionable parenting tactics, he’s ruthless in a car, something burned into him ever since he set foot into a kart at four years old. Years and years of honing his craft, more hours spent on a track than anywhere else, has made him into one of the best drivers in the world.

He’s got a reputation to uphold, and he can't do that by finishing a race any lower than a podium.

Sure, any points are good points, but P1 points are winner’s points. Anything less means he’s lost. And Max doesn’t like losing.

So when he does lose, he doesn’t always handle it the best. Everyone knows to steer clear of him after a bad race—don’t get in Max’s way or he’ll bite your head clean off, don’t even look Max in the eye unless you want yourself faced with the nastiest bitch stare you’ve ever been subjected to.

There’s a reason he’s called Mad Max.

But if they knew the real him—the real Max, your Max—they wouldn't be quite nearly as judgmental of him. The Max you know is gentle and kind, immensely protective over his loved ones.

He's not some stone cold killer like people and the media make him out to be. He's a person. Your person.

So it's torture for you, hearing him become increasingly frustrated on the radio this whole race, and then watching him climb out of the car and storm past Red Bull personnel in the garage afterwards.

He’s pissed, that much you can tell. Livid, even. If it were physically possible, he’d probably have steam blowing out of his ears. But honestly, you can’t blame him for his anger. This race was a fucking awful one for the books, full of shit strategies, car troubles, track incidents—you name it.

GP catches your eye from the pitwall, silently pleading for you to work magical Max powers, but you were already planning on following your angry boyfriend anyways. He’s definitely going to need to cool down before his post race interviews or he might explode from the overload of adrenaline on national television.

You can already hear Max rambling through the door by the time you approach his driver’s room, and although your Dutch isn’t great, you can make out a few choice words that would make the FIA give him a hefty fine and more community service. A clattering of unknown objects being knocked to the floor comes next, just as you’re expecting.

This isn’t the first time you’ve had to come calm him down after a race, and it certainly won’t be the last, but you seem to be the only person Max is willing to listen to when he gets like this.

Blowing out a sharp exhale through your lips, you push open the door and close it behind you quickly before Max can tell you to go away like he normally does. He might say he wants to be alone, but you know from experience that’s not the case.

He needs someone who won’t judge him, who won’t tell him what he did wrong and what he could’ve done better. He just needs someone to listen.

Max whirls around, ready to cuss someone out, but then his eyes land on you. You don’t say a word as you scoot around him in the tiny room to sit up on his massage table, only here to be a calming presence for him. Now that you’re here, he quiets down quite a bit, only the occasional grumble escaping his mouth as he continues his pacing.

It remains just a matter of time before he’s cooled down enough for you to be able to have a conversation with him. He picks up the water bottles he’d knocked off the table before you came in, and once he’s stopped pacing a hole in the floor, you know he’s ready to talk.

“Shit race, wasn’t it?” He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. You open your mouth to respond, but he points at you before you can say anything, not accusatory in any way. “Don’t even answer that, I already know what you’re going to say.”

“How would you know what I was about to say?”

“You’re going to tell me I did good, but I didn’t, I did bad. I fucked it up, there’s no excusing that.”

“I wasn’t gonna say that.” You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest.

Max pauses, uncertainty flickering across his features. It’s the first emotion you’ve seen from him that isn’t anger. “...You weren’t?”

“No, I wasn’t,” You reply. He tilts his head, brows furrowed, and you beckon him forwards, into your open arms. He shifts on his heels a beat, as if he’s fighting the urge to let you hold him, but it doesn’t last long before he gives in, dragging his feet towards you until you’ve got your arms secured around his neck. “I was gonna say you did what you could with what you had. Maybe you’d say it was bad, but I’d say it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.”

“It was bad,” He sighs, letting his chin drop towards his chest dejectedly. “The strategy was shit, the car was shit, the pit stops were—”

“Shit?” You offer, ducking down to catch his eye. A ghost of a smile pulls at Max’s mouth and you take it as a positive sign, tapping along his back almost absentmindedly.

You stay like this for a while with him, sitting together in silence until the tension in Max’s shoulders begin to relax under your touch. The clench in his jaw slowly goes away, as does the crease between his brows and the hardness in his eyes.

It seems like just being here with him is doing the trick much better than trying to convince him he’s done a good job when he’s got it firm in his head that he didn’t. You’re still learning things about Max as you go along, but you like to think you’re doing a pretty good job so far.

Max squeezes his eyes shut, lets out a deep breath, scrubs both hands over his face before focusing in on you again.

You smile at him assuringly, tilting your head. “Ready for your interviews now?”

“I’d be better if you could come with me.”

“Unfortunately I’m not Red Bull personnel, so no, I can’t. But I can wait for you outside the media pen until you’re done.”

“You could be.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be right outside then,” You hum, patting his chest lightly.

“Not that part. I meant you could work at Red Bull. Be part of my team—help keep me in check, keep me calm. Since you know me so well and you’re kind of…already doing it?”

“So you want me to be your therapy dog?” You ask, raising an amused brow.

“Not a therapy dog, that’s not what I meant.” Max shakes his head quickly. Then he smiles a little too mischievously for your liking. “More like a therapy cat.”

“Max Emilian Verstappen, are you calling me a cat?”

“Yes?” He says unsurely, cocking his head. You make an offended noise from the back of your throat. “I mean, no. No, I’m not. I’m just saying, there are certain cat-like qualities that you have, like…a calming presence? And you’re very smart too, and protective, and—am I making things better or worse, because if it’s the latter I will just shut the fuck up right now.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

"Oh, one hundred percent."

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#requested!#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot

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shysuccubusstuff · 2 days ago

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l&ds nsfw links! pt. 2

Content: Zayne + Xavier + Rafayel in various NSFW imagines!

Note: It's so hard to find actual good content for these kind of imagine... How is everyone doing? I miss holidays so much... I did four instead of five cause I keep trying to find more accounts. Let me know if you liked it! Also, if anyone has any kind of request, my requests are always open tbh!!

Zayne:

Starved Zayne arriving after several days on a trip, he looks so exhausted but even if he has eyebags the only thing he can think of is grabbing you and letting you know just how much he actually missed you.

Zayne knows he should reject the idea, but how could he reject you when you keep begging him to fuck your throat, with your sweet eyes looking at him in such a way... He accepts, even if he still feels slightly guilty about it, but deep down, he may be enjoying the bulge that appears in your throat each time he shoves it deep inside you...

You sent him as a joke a supposedly true research about how sucking on your nipples could avoid you getting breast cancer... Despite Zayne looked almost ammused at first, you soon noticed how he had started to suck on them much more than often... Was this a mere coincidence?

Enforcer! Zayne taking all his anger out on you... He tried so hard do maintain his frenzy, biting his lips and leaving them all bruised just to stop himself from doing anything to you... But as soon as you use that damn enhancer on him, it's a matter of seconds before he has you lifted in the hair, your eyes rolling back as you keep pleading him to at least slow down for a second.

Xavier:

Jealous Xavier making sure to leave a lasting mark in your body. He knows it's dumb to feel that way because of some dumb barista clinging a bit too much on you, but he can't just help clenching his fist and forcing a kind smile towards you.

Just some warm-up between the two of you. You keep asking him to help you improve your stamina, what's better for that than riding him for some time? Don't worry! He will help you a bit, just make sure to get down all the way, ok?

Contrary to what many people believe, Xavier is one of the fittest LI, even if he doesn't look as strong. Just let him show you just how much he can last holding you up in the air, legs dangling as he keeps hitting your cervix with his tip.

Aftermath of that one card in which Xavier keeps getting teased while he wears his working out outfit... It is oly fair that he is able to tease you, right? He keeps taunting you, telling you to quiet down as he keeps rubbing his hardened cock against the crook of your ass. As soon as he releases, just now that this is far from over.

Rafayel:

After leaving due to work for a couple weeks, you end up receiving this video late at night... Who would imagine such a re-known artist would dare to do this kind of thing? The video has a small comment written by him: "I miss my cutie so much... the wait is becoming unbearable".

Just Rafayel giving a taste to that sweet nectar that is dripping down your legs. What do you mean that is unclean? Just relax and let him show just how much he adores you.

After acting as a butler for you, it is only fair for him to see you in those short and cute maid outfits! Just... don't blame him when his eyes begin to drift, ears starting to heat up as he keeps trying to stop his mind from imagining the many ways he would just take you right then and there. All he needs is you pulling him towards you to lose himself, one of his hands playing with your tits as the other circles around your clit.

You keep teasing him during the whole art exhibition, with you constantly wrapped around his arm, your chest pressing against his arm even as some of those supposedly art experts ask about the inspiration behind his latest paintings. Oh, you just knew he wouldn't let it slide the moment his eyes glistened with a dangerous look. As soon as you arrive to his studio... Well, let's just say that he made sure to give just as much as you had given to him...

#love and deep space #love and deepspace zayne #zayne smut #zayne love and deepspace #zayne lads #zayne imagines #lads #xavier imagines #xavier love and deepspace #lads xavier #rafayel x you #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel l&ds

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motorsportbarbie13 · 9 hours ago

Text

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Theo's First Race

Having a child changes Max in a way he never could have predicted.

warnings: none, this is 100% self indulgent fluff. Pairing: max verstappen x podcaster!reader word count: 3.1k words

yourusername posted

459,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, assistantshannon, jennythenanny, and others yourusername texas will always hold a special place in my heart. last year, we learned i was pregnant for the fourth time with what we hoped was our miracle baby. this year we get to bring that miracle baby to the track with us for the very first time. my entire heart is so full watching this all come full circle. i cannot wait to show theo how amazing his daddy is when he gets in that car. maxverstappen1 my two favorite people here this weekend. i can already tell this is going to a good race <3 user0198 i cannot handle the amount of dad max content we get. user111 max carrying Theo kangaroo style in a baby carrier??? sobbing rn >>>user0019 SERIOUSLY jennythenanny ah! so excited to be with you guys this weekend!!! >>>yourusername theo is so excited to be back with his bestie! >>>jennythenanny eeeee! cannot wait! >>>user020 why is this the cutest exchange i've ever read

“Maybe we should leave Theo here with Jenny today instead? Max says, concern settling into the corners of his eyes.

You look over at him, eyebrow raised, from your seat on the floor of the hotel suite. In front of you, five month old Theo is on his tummy staring up at you with his signature gummy little grin. The three of you were in Texas for the US GP, which was supposed to be Theo’s first time in the paddock but apparently, your husband was having second thoughts.

“What? Why?” You ask, confused.

Max had checked the weather (multiple times) this morning and had declared that it wasn’t going to be too hot for Theo to be out and about. The sun was out and there was a gentle breeze whispering through the trees outside your hotel room. Max was leading the championship for the first time this season and he was starting on pole. COTA was historically a really good track for him and you were confident in his chances at winning. Plus, COTA meant a lot to you. It was right here in this very hotel that you had found out you were pregnant with the little elf that was babbling up at you right now.

Max wrings his hands together, casting a worried glance down at his two favorite people in the world. With how dramatic Theo had come into the world so early, Max had found himself being a little extra protective over him. And you for that matter. He had refused to hear any talk about bringing Theo to the track before this weekend and after seeing all of the crowds at the track yesterday for the practice and sprint qualifying, he was having second thoughts

“There were just so many people and I don’t want him to get lost.”

You chuckle before reaching forward to take Theo in your arms. Standing up, you cross the room to where Max stands and hand him his son. Max instinctively reaches out, cuddling Theo to his chest. Watching Max become a dad over the last five and a half months had been one of the most rewarding things you’d ever been privileged to witness. He had slipped into the dad role so effortlessly it had surprised Max, probably due to his own childhood and difficult past with his father. You weren’t surprised though. You had known the moment that Theo was born that Max had been born to be a father. It really was that simple.

“Baby, he can’t walk. He won’t get lost, I promise he’ll never be out of his sling for more than five minutes.”

“No one holds him other than you and Jenny?”

You blow out a breath, unsurprised at how he’s gone into papa bear mode. You had seen it on his face yesterday during sprint qualifying. He had surveyed the paddock crowds with a deeper than usual frown on his face, making comments whenever he heard an errant cough or someone clear their throat. ‘Cesspool of germs’ was a phrase he used more than once, now that you thought you it.

“Yes, my love. He will stay in the sling with me and Jenny no matter what. I have his ear defenders here too and we’ll keep to hospitality. But I know he’d love to see where daddy works. You know how much the sound of those engines sooth him.”

Max pokes a finger into Theo’s chubby cheek, cooing nonsense at him as Theo giggles back. His mind flickered back to one particularly hard night right after you had brought him home from the hospital during the summer break. Theo had been a bit of a colicky baby back then and the hours between 1 and 3 am were often the worst. He would scream and cry for hours, unable to be soothed back to sleep despite all of his needs being met. This night, in particular, was difficult and you had been on hour four of trying to get him to settle. In a desperate attempt to try something, anything that might work, Max had turned on an old race, but just the ambient sounds of one of his wins from YouTube, without any commentators voices. The sounds of the engines revving had instantly calmed Theo down.

Both you and Max had stood there in your apartment, lights dark with the exception of the glow emanating from the tv in front of you, as Theo had stared unblinkingly at the television, tears still puddled in his little neck folds, but totally quiet and enthralled.

Max’s eyes dart over to yours and you smile, reaching out a hand to touch his elbow. “I know you’re nervous, baby but Theo will be fine. He’s going to have so much fun, and I know once you get to the paddock with him in your arms, you will too.”

He sighs, knowing that you’re right. You usually are when it comes to matters involving Theo. “Okay, but first person to cough on him gets banned from the paddock.”

The Miami sprint race had been your first race all those years ago when Max had swept you off your feet that very first weekend he flew you to him so it seemed fitting that Theo’s first trip to a race was also a sprint race weekend. Max parked the sensible but giant Ford Explorer that he had insisted on driving this weekend in his designated spot before hopping out, telling you not to move.

You giggle to yourself, amused that even after all this time, Max still insisted that you never touched a door handle while he was with you. Even on hectic days like these, you and Theo were always in the front of his mind.

When Max opens your door, his hand immediately finds yours as he helps you out of the tall car. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He asks, dropping a kiss onto your forehead before moving to the back seat to get Theo from his carseat.

“I’m so excited to be back, it feels like it’s been forever.”

Which was true. After Theo had been born, he had needed to stay in the NICU for quite a while. Max had nearly missed the race in Spain the weekend after Monaco because he had refused to leave your side. In the end, it had been Daniel that had convinced him that missing Spain would be detrimental to his championship hopes. Max trusted Daniel with his life and knew that his friend, someone who he knew had a good head on his shoulders, wouldn’t give him bad advice. He knew what missing a race would mean to everyone on the team and back at the factory.

He had won the race with a 15 second lead.

Your credentials hang heavy around your neck as you pull the diaper bag out of the back of the car, Theo already nestled securely in Max’s arms. It always made you chuckle, the way Max always seemed to have Theo. You swore whenever he was around, that baby never touched the floor or his crib.

The pressure in your chest squeezes as you watch Max tote his little boy towards the paddock entrance. Both you and Max had made a conscious decision to keep Theo’s face out of your social media, with the exception of very carefully curated images that you and Max tightly controlled so this was the first time Theo would be photographed by anyone but you and Max. You knew the fans, both yours and Max’s, wanted to see Theo and you hoped that bringing him into the paddock despite him being so young was well received and a positive experience.

“Max! Who’ve you got there?” A photographer yells the moment Max scans his badge at the paddock entrance. Several photographers are standing by the gates, waiting on the driver arrivals. Max is dressed in his team kit, of course, and you’ve got your traditional navy blue on, today in the form of a loose maxi dress that would allow you to maneuver while caring for Theo during the race. Even Theo had a Red Bull onesie on with gray shorts pulled on over his chubby little legs.

“The best team mascot in the paddock.” Max jokes, a smile crinkling at the corner of his eyes as he pauses to show off a now giggling Theo.

Your heart catches in your chest when you see the look of pure happiness on your husband’s face. There were few things that brought out a smile that bright on Max and the fact that him showing off your baby to the world was one of those things had your heart hammering in your chest. You watched as Max showed Theo off to several of the photographers and Red Bull staff members, seemingly forgetting all about his hesitations from earlier. Theo loved it too, the sights and smells and sounds were so much for him to take in and he was so content to be in his daddy’s arms just taking it all in.

“Mon petit lion!” A voice rings out as the three of you walk towards Red Bull’s garage. You grin, watching as Charles fusses over Max refusing to give up custody of Theo but eventually relents. “Give me my godson, you heartless man. Keeping the poor little man away from the track for five months! Horrific!”

“He’s a literal infant, Charles.” Max argues, a full on pout popping out of his full bottom lip. You suddenly have to quell the urge to bite it, he looks so handsome.

“Your gorgeous wife told me how much he loves the sound of my Ferrari.” Charles argues back, bouncing Theo up and down, eliciting a peal of giggles tumbling from your baby’s lips.

Max shoots you a glare that has ‘you’re a traitor’ written all over it. All you do is reach up on your toes to peck him on those full lips of his, completely ignoring the annoyed look he still regards you with.

“It was the sound of my Red Bull that calmed him the first time.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Max.” Charles chuckles before handing Theo back to you, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m so glad you two are here, the paddock ins’t the same without you.”

“Thank you Charles.” You say, cuddling Theo into your shoulder just a little tighter.

As the three of you continue on, your final destination being the garage so Max can check on the car, your pace is just a bit quicker than Max’s. He watches you for just a moment, the way Theo’s chubby arms wrap tightly around your neck as he takes in the buzzing activity of the paddock. His heart squeezes fiercely at the way your hips sway back and forth as you carry his baby on your hip. This was how it was always meant to be: his wife and his child at his side while he worked. He had always pictured this day in a way that always seemed like it would come sometime in the future. That was the strange thing about how life progressed. Suddenly, some day is here and you’re watching your wife cuddle your miracle baby. When Max thinks of that afternoon in London all those years ago when he made his way into the recording studio to be on some silly little podcast, he had no idea that this was where that interview would lead but here he was, every single one of the fantasies he had dared to hope for right in front of him.

You turn back to Max, sensing that he’s fallen quite a bit behind. The look of awe on your husbands face as he watches you has your heart aching. You knew that the past few months had been hard on Max. He hated being away from you, had even tried to float the idea of retiring mid-season. You had flatly refused, saying that everyone in the factory and the garage was counting on him and eventually, he had agreed. But you knew being here was a balm to his lonely heart and you were wildly happy that Theo was finally old enough to accompany Max on this triple header.

But looking at the way his eyes shined with unshed tears as he stands stock still in the middle of the paddock, just staring after what you know is his entire world, you feel something lock into place. Something that you’re going to have to discuss with him later tonight.

“Come on, Maxie.” You call as you hoist Theo up higher on your hip. “You’ve got a meeting with Horner and I don’t want him yelling at me because you’re late.”

Max seems to snap out of the trance he’s in then and chuckles. “Christian is terrified of you, liefje. He’d never yell.”

You shrug, “I suppose you’re right.”

Max slips his fingers into yours before giving them a squeeze. “Come on, let’s introduce the little lion to the garage.”

Max wins the sprint that day, just like the first sprint you watched him win all those years ago. The nostalgia you felt watching him pull up into that first parc ferme spot had something twisting deep in your stomach. It was so satisfying watching Max do what he loved while you held his little boy in your arms.

It was a whirlwind of media after his win and then he was swept off for race debrief before qualifying for the Grand Prix the next day. By the time Theo’s bedtime rolled around, Max was still busy in engineering meetings. You sent him a quick text telling him you were taking Theo back to the hotel to put him down. Max had wanted to tell you to wait, he’d be right there, but he had known this wasn’t true. He knew that it was going to take several more hours to wrap up all his duties on the track so he reluctantly agreed.

This was the part of racing he hated. The late nights, the long flights to every corner of the world except to where it mattered most, the danger that lurked on the track. He hated being away from you, had always hated being away from you. Despite his reservations about you quitting your job all before you had gotten pregnant with Theo, he was glad that you had spent those few years traveling with him. It wasn’t about the fact that you ‘followed him around’ like some publications liked to taunt. It was the fact that Max was able to do what he loved while providing for his family and keep you close at the same time.

But things had shifted when Theo had been born and his priorities had changed. Having you at the track wasn’t an option anymore, not with how little Theo was. And even now, at 5 months old, he knew that this wasn’t sustainable. The options of what to do after this season all played in his head as he got into the car late that night to head back to the hotel. He knew he had a big decision to make, one that had been many years coming.

It’s dark by the time Max fishes the keycard to the hotel room out of his back pocket. You have a two bedroom suite booked this weekend so he’s not worried about waking Theo, although he still holds out a little hope that he might be awake. It’s been hours since Max has seen him and the only thing worse than being away from you for an extended period of time is being away from both of you.

The door whispers open and Max spots you laying down on the couch, staring blankly at the tv in front of you. On the coffee table sits the baby monitor and a bottle of wine.

When you hear the door snick closed, you pick your head up, blinking sleepily towards the door. “You’re home.” You whisper, sitting up so Max can join you on the couch.

He immediately pulls you into his lap, nuzzling deep into your neck. “I’m home.” He breathes, letting your perfume settle over his senses like a warm, familiar blanket.

“I’m so proud of you. Sprint win and P3 for tomorrow.”

“Thank you, schatje. How was your night? How’s the baby?”

You hum softly, your lips finding Max’s in the dark. They’re warm and inviting and everything that sets your soul on fire. You’re fairly certain that you’ll still feel this way when you’re 90 years old kissing Max late at night. “He’s good. Just finished his last bottle of the night, went down like a champ.”

“That’s my boy. I’m sorry I missed bedtime tonight.”

You pull away so you can look at Max’s clear blue eyes. You’re a little surprised to see a bit of sadness sitting in those baby blues you love so much. “It’s okay baby. He did just fine without you.”

Max frowns before pulling you closer. “And that’s what breaks my heart. I don’t want him to grow up without me.”

You chuckle, “Oh, Max. He’s not going to grow up without you. If you really want, you can do the middle of the night feeding. He’ll be up in a few hours anyway.”

Max nods, he usually did those late night feedings anyway. He loved the way the entire world was hushed and asleep. He felt cocooned in the most calming way and those nights where it was just him and Theo were some of his favorite.

Silence stretches out between you. Your heartbeat matches up with Max’s eventually and your eyes get a little heavy with his warmth pressed up against you. You’d missed this kind of calm presence that Max brought to your life. It was always there, of course, but sometimes it was a little further than you liked during the season. Having him here now was so soothing, making you feel like you could conquer anything that came your way.

After a few quiet moments, Max’s deep voice finally breaks the silence.

“I think I’m done after this season, liefje.”

You’d had this conversation countless times over the years, so much so that the words don't even make your heart race anymore. There’s something different in Max’s voice tonight, though. He sounds tired, worked over, resigned. Like the years spent on the road are finally catching up to him and you know, deep in your chest that it’s time.

“I know, Max.” You whisper, dropping your forehead to his before brushing a kiss against his nose. “Come home to us. Theo and I are ready to have you all to ourselves now.”

And that's exactly what happens.

maxverstappen1 posted

5,039,504 likes liked by yourusername, redbullracing, f1, and others maxverstappen1 this sport has been part of my life for most of my time here on earth. i started in karting not long after i started walking. motorsport brought me to the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. 7 championships. the love of my life. my child. this sport has brought me to all of the most important milestones of my life. but all good things must come to an end. i've achieved everything i set out to do all those years ago and my priorities have shifted. at the end of may, i became a father and suddenly that pull to retirement got stronger. @/username knows how many times i threatened to quit mid-season so it wasn't a surprise to her when i came to her after texas and told her it was time. after twelve seasons racing in the pinnacle of motorsport, i'm officially announcing my retirement. to my team, thank you. you have forever shaped who i am. to my wife, i love you. you are all the good things in this world and i am so lucky you chose me to be your husband. to my theo, you changed me in a way no one else has. being your dad is the most important job i've ever had. i can't wait to watch you grow into the person you're destined to become. to my fans, thank you. your devotion means the absolute world to me and i would not have made it to where i am today. thank you, from the bottom of my heart. yourusername theo and i are so so proud of you. welcome home, my love. >>>user9292 *sobbing* charlesleclerc congratulations on a lifetime of acheivments. can't wait to see what you do now, my friend!! lando congrats GOAT. excited to finally not be asked 'how does it feel to lose to max verstappen?' EVER AGAIN >>>charlesleclerc now it'll be 'how does it feel to lose to charles???' >>>lando stfu redbullracing we're not crying, you're crying!!! lewishamilton you will be missed, max. enjoy retirement with that gorgeous family of yours!

Tag List: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164 @lestapiastrisgirl

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #dad max verstappen #the yapping hour is upon us #max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #mv33 #mv1 #mv1 fic #mv33 fic #mv33 x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 18 hours ago

Text

Besotted 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes (silverfox)

Note: Friday at last and my house guest is away for a couple days.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky plants his feet as the bike comes to a stop. You look up at the duplex and your insides get all swirly. You're home and still giddy. You've made up your mind. It's now or never.

He shuts off the engine and waits for you to get off first. You hang onto his shoulder for balance as you hop down. He gets off without much effort and heaves a dark sigh. He hesitates and you do too.

"That was awesome, Bucky," you shimmy.

"Mm," he drones and flinches, moving toward the saddle bag. He unbuckles it and takes out the cookies. "Don't forget these."

You take them reluctantly and he hauls out his bag of groceries. He wraps one arm around it and lets the flap fall open. He faces you as you clutch the box to your chest. Don't let him do it. He can't send you away now.

"Hey, you want... want to try some? I could make us some tea."

His eyes dart to the side then he looks down at the bag. He fidgets and shifts on his feet. He looks at you and his forehead lines. He deflates just a little as you watch him with rounded, hopeful eyes.

"Sure, I should get the yogurt in the fridge though so why don't you come in?" He relents.

You could fist pump and jump in glee. You don't. You're not that lame. You bounce and smile.

"Oh, yay," you grin, "so you got everything set up?"

"Hm, not much. Still got a few things to grab," he grits.

You walk up the steps beside him and stand aside, waiting for him to unlock the door. He keeps the screen door open with his elbow then pauses before he pushes open the inner one. He sniffs.

"Go on, girl," he waves inside.

Huh, what happened to doll?

You enter as if you've discovered some ancient crypt full of treasures meant for the after world. There's a couch and a coffee table, a floor lamp behind the former. The area rug is the only piece of decor to give it any warmth. You try not to be too obvious as you take account of the barren space.

"I might got some tea," he says as he gentle touches your back and slips by. You savour the tingle along your spine.

You take off your boots before you break the threshold of the front room. You tiptoe in as you hear him in the kitchen. He sighs as cupboards open and close.

"It doesn't have to be tea," you call to him. You near the table and examine the motorcycle magazine, a sheet of paper tucked under the cover.

"Good, all I got is beer," he says.

"Mmm," you turn as he comes close with the bottles.

"Coasters," he says.

"Oh, uh, right," you set the box next to the magazine and take two of the cork coasters from the stack. You place them down and he swiftly clanks the bottles into place.

"I know it's not much but uh, get comfortable," he says.

You pluck up a bottle and sit on the couch. You taste the malty beer. It's not bad. He paces around and nears the window. You watch his back.

You lean forward to set down the bottle and tear the seal on the box. You flip the top and pick out two cookies. You get up and approach him. You stop beside him.

"Try one," you offer.

He exhales and accepts it with a thanks. You nibble and he crunches into his. It's a bit dry by sweet.

You're nervous. You've never been this close in your life. Now you have the prime opportunity. You're in his space. You finish the cookie and smack your lips.

"Dry," you chuckle, "need to wash it down."

"Me too," he says.

He follows you as you go to grab your beer. You drink and sit. He does the same, stiffly, as he takes his beer and swigs. Your eyes stick to him. You watch his throat and the way his chest stretches the fabric of his shirt. You set the beer back on the cork and sidle closer. You're fuzzy all over.

You put your hand on his knee. He flinches and lowers the bottle. He looks at your hand and reaches to set down the beer. His other hand covers yours and he peels it off.

"Look, doll," he squeezes and clears his throat, gently laying your hand in your own lap. "There's things you don't know about me. I think you better just finish and go."

"Bucky, I... it's okay. Whatever it is."

"I'm too old for ya," he puffs. "You're young. Don't do this."

His eyes bore into yours. You pout.

"I might be young but I can make my own choices. So why don't you tell me so I can?"

His cheek twitches, "girl--"

"Please. Don't I deserve to know?"

"I don't know what you're thinking, girl. Alright? Look at us. I'm... I gotta twice your age. And you're... you're too sweet for your own good."

"Tell me," you reach for him again, petting the denim on his thigh. "I won't go until you do. Or you can drag me out."

His eyes flicker and he looks at the window behind you. His jaw squares and he shakes his head. He slaps his hand over yours again but doesn't move it away.

"I'm a criminal. I just got out and I'm tryna rebuild, but I'm not changed. Alright? You understand me," he snarls. "I'm a bad man. I hurt people. Too late for me to change that."

You search his face, "but... you haven't hurt me. And you did your time."

"Girl, don't be foolish."

"No, Bucky, you told me and I don't care. I don't care what you are. I know that you feel this too," you move closer. "Don't you?"

He turns his head and stares at the wall. You squeeze his thigh and get up on your knees. You trail your touch up to his belt and he grunts, stopping you with his thick fingers around your wrist.

"Bucky, please," you beg. "It's just us. Nothing else."

"Girl--" he pleads.

"You're not too old, you're not too bad," you slip free of his grasp and tickle up his shirt, "you're perfect for me, baby."

You bring your hand to his jaw and flutter your fingers along his beard. He shudders and you raise yourself on your knees. You lean in and press your lips to his. He grabs your upper arm but doesn't push you away. He growls as you open your mouth and slide your tongue along his lips.

His hand slides away from your arm and to your back, crawling to the back of your neck. You brace his shoulder and swing your leg across him, straddling his lap as you deepen the kiss. He groans as you hook an arm around his neck and snare him. You rock him slightly as you breathe into him, tilting your pelvis against him.

He grips your hip with his other hand and parts from your mouth. His eyes are cloudy as he gazes up at you. The tension is his cheek pulses.

"Doll," he shakes his head, "one last chance..."

"I got condoms," you say as you sit back and reach to your cross body bag, still resting against your side.

He shivers and slackens against the couch. "You're too much."

"I know what I want," you assure him.

He stares at you and his lashes flick, He grabs the strap of your cross body bag and unhooks it from around you. He puts it on the cushion and gulps. He frames your face with his hands, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones. He sighs.

You reach up to curl your fingers under the straps of your tanks top and drag them down your arms. You feel him beneath you. He's hard already. You're soaking through your panties, not that there's much to them.

You push down the sheath of your top to your waist. He inhales sharply and you reach back, your chest bulging as you tug at the band of your bra. You unhook it and quickly drop it down to your wrists. Your tits pop free and jiggle as you toss your bra.

He blinks at your chest. He just sits there, paralysed. You giggle and grab his hands, putting them on your tits, making him squeeze them. He purrs and rolls his hips.

"Doll, you're... you're..." He gropes you then slips his hands down to lift your tits. He leans forward and nuzzles your flesh, pushing your chest around his face as he snarls. You got him. There's no going back.

You arch your back and cling to his head, urging him on. He nips and teethes at you, tracing your nipple with his thumb before popping it between his lips. He hums and swirls his tongue around the hard bud. It must have been a while for him, having been in jail. That sends another thrill through you.

You twine your fingers into his hair and grazes his scalp with your nails. He snarls as he continues to bounce your tits, squeezing and pawing. You never cared much for the extra weight, but now that he's drowning in them, you can't complain.

You lip your hand down between your bodies and feel along the front of his jeans. He groans and wriggles against your touch. He's rock-hard. He hisses as he pulls away and drops back against the couch heavily.

"Doll," he tenses up.

You giggle and tug at the bottom of his shirt. You push it up his stomach and over his broad chest. You mess his hair as you swoop it past his head and drop it over the back of the couch.

Now it's your turn. You flatten your hands across his pecs and moan. He growls and you drag your nails lightly down his skin, the soft hair contrasting against hard muscle. His stomach is cushier but not in a bad way.

"Baby, you got me struggling," he groans and rubs your thighs, his pelvis tilting desperately.

"Me too," you breathe.

You linger at the top of his jeans then back off of him carefully. His eyes widen. You see fear in him. You grin and turn to wiggle your ass as him. You hook your fingers inside your leggings and bend as you push them down. Your thong rides up between your cheeks. He hums as the couch springs whine beneath him.

You shiver as your nerves flurry in your chest. This is it. So close. You're throbbing. You can see the slickness in your leggings as you step out of them.

"How... why do you want me, doll? You're... you're gorgeous," he rasps.

You stand and face him again. You shake your chest at him and he brings his fist up to bite his knuckle. You feel powerful.

You slink closer to him and touch the front of your bejeweled thong, a little heart on black. "Can I keep these on?"

"Yes," he croaks and clears his throat, "yes, doll."

You grin and grab your bag. You unzip the front pocket and slide free the strip of condoms. It unfurls and you laugh. "Oops... think we'll need them all?"

He startles you as he swipes up the end and tears one off, "we'll see."

You drop the rest beside your bag and blink at him. You sense something different. He tears open his pants and raises himself off the cushion as he shoves the denim down. His dick bobs above the elastic of his briefs, the head swollen and weeping. You get even wetter as you see the veins bulging under the skin.

He rips the wrapper with his teeth. He trembles as he presses the rubber to his tip and you near him, wavering as you weigh the moment. This is your last day a virgin. You take a silent breath and lean forward to grab his shoulders. He quakes and moans as he slides the condom down his length.

You bring yourself over his lap, hovering above him as he grips himself. He frames your hip and hisses, "doll, please, please, I need you on me. I need--"

You reach down and wrap your fingers above his. He lets go and gasps. You angle his tip along your cunt and push your panties aside. You stare down at him. Your eyes cling to his and you bite your lip.

You dip down carefully. As you open around him, you grunt. You sink your nails into his trap and your eyes speckle with tears. Oh, it hurts more than you expect.

He taps your hip, "stop," he snarls.

You bat your lashes but obey, "I can take it--"

"Come on," he feels along your side. He loops his arm around you and in an instant, he has your back to the cushion. He slips out of you.

He fishes out your bag from beneath you and sweeps it onto the floor. He knees on the other end of the couch and urges you further up. You drag yourself until your head is against the armrest.

He bends between your knees and kneads your thighs, his eyes on your cunt. He licks his lips before he plunges in. You yipe in surprise as he laps at you, his beard tickling your lips as he pushes your legs wider.

He flicks his tongue around and across your clit. You spasm and clasp onto his hair as the sensations stir within like flames. Your thighs clench and your spine stiffen. You pout and gulp loudly as he toys with you, suckling and swiping as you squirm.

He growls into you and traces a finger along your ass up to your entrance. He spreads the wetness there before he delves inside. He pushes his finger in bit by bit then draws it back out. He adds another and urges inside even deeper.

His tongue teases you to the edge as he pushes in and out of your cunt. He hums and drinks you up, spreading his tongue as wide as he can to taste all over you. He seals his lips once more around your clit and the pressure pinpoints, pulsing faster and faster until your muscles release.

There's a sudden surge and a hot flow coursing from you, dripping down his fingers. You convulse and whimper as you wash away with your orgasm.

He kisses your cunt before he sits up. You watch him, bleary-eyed, and he wipes the glisten from his beard with a hum. He inhales so his chest puffs out and he cracks his neck.

"If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right," he growls.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #besotted #au #marvel #mcu #captain america #avengers #winter soldier

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michavs · 3 days ago

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+　๋࣭ ✴︎ ARISTOTLE | Ollie Bearman x smart-student!reader

Summary: A math genius and a rising racer meet by chance, constantly challenging each other. What begins as playful debates slowly grows into something more, making them question where they truly belong.

Warning: Um kinda out-of-character ollie ig

Notes: I literally wrote this on class because I’m so bored, so this might be kinda messy but I’ll fix it later (if I remember it tho-) And this is kinda long so i hope u enjoy it <3

Y/N had always lived in a world of numbers, equations, and the thrill of solving problems that most people found impossible. At sixteen, she was already a prodigy in the math olympiad scene, effortlessly tackling problems that left even seasoned mathematicians impressed.

But then, she met Ollie Bearman.

She had seen his name before—a rising star in Ferrari’s junior program. Nineteen years old, fast, confident, and already making waves in Formula 2, with whispers of an impending F1 seat growing louder. He was a name that mattered in motorsport, but to Y/N, he had been nothing more than just a name.

She found herself standing in the Ferrari garage, an unwilling spectator as cars roared through the narrow streets of Monte Carlo. Unlike the rest of the team, she wasn’t watching the cars themselves but the screens, the numbers flashing in real time, painting a picture of the race beyond what the eye could see.

That was when he noticed her.

Ollie pulled off his helmet, shaking out his damp curls, still breathless from the session. He had expected to be met with the usual engineers, mechanics, or even an occasional sponsor’s representative. Instead, his gaze landed on her—a girl who looked out of place, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the screen rather than the track.

“You don’t look like a racing fan.” he remarked, walking over.

“Because I’m not.” she replied without looking up. “But I like the real-time data. And you brake later than most in Turn 4. It’s an unnecessary risk.”

Ollie blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then, to her irritation, he grinned.

“Risk is part of racing.”

“And probability says it’ll cost you a race if you keep doing it.”

His grin widened. “Let me guess, an engineer?”

“Unemployed.” she corrected.

He tilted his head, intrigued. “So, what’s your verdict? Am I good or just lucky?”

She hesitated. Math was clean and predictable. Racing was not. It was a tangled mess of speed, instinct, and physics-defying precision. And yet, even she had to admit that Ollie’s driving wasn’t reckless—it was calculated, refined in a way that most people wouldn’t notice. “You calculate your risks well. It’s not all instinct, even if you pretend it is.”

Ollie smirked. “So, you have been watching.”

“Only because my dad makes me.”

At that, Ollie raised an eyebrow. He had a feeling she wasn’t just any guest in the Ferrari garage. “Wait, who’s your dad?”

Before she could answer, a deep voice cut in. “Y/N, I see you’ve met Ollie.” Ollie turned and felt his stomach drop slightly. Standing behind her was none other than the CEO of Ferrari himself.

Oh. His easygoing confidence flickered for just a second. “Ah. That explains a lot.”

To most people, Y/N’s father was one of the most powerful figures in Formula 1. To her, he was simply the reason she had spent more weekends at racetracks than she cared to count. She gave Ollie a knowing look. “Told you I don’t have a choice.”

From that moment on, Ollie seemed to make it his mission to get under her skin. At every race she attended, he sought her out, tossing math problems at her just to see if she’d take the bait (she always did). In return, she picked apart his driving with ruthless precision, pointing out every inefficiency like a strategist rather than a fan.

—

One evening, after hours of solving functional equations for preparation for the International Mathematical Olympiad, Y/N sat at the dinner table with her family. Her two older siblings, Kai and Isa, had been listening to their dad talk about Ferrari’s recent races.

“So, Dad.” Isa started, smirking. “Are we going to talk about how your daughter is lowkey running strategy for Ferrari?”

“I am not running strategy.” Y/N said immediately, stabbing her fork into her food.

“But you could.” Kai pointed out. “Dad literally offered you a spot.”

“Not a real spot.” she muttered.

Their father sighed. “She’s brilliant with numbers, but she refuses to apply them where they matter most.”

“They matter in math.” Y/N shot back.

Kai leaned back. “Okay, but let’s be real. Why are you really turning it down? Is it the pressure? Or…” He smirked. “Would working in F1 mean seeing a certain driver more often?”

Isa grinned. “Ohhh, this just got soooo interesting.”

Y/N groaned. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Her mother, who had been quiet, finally spoke up. “You should do what makes you happy. Whether that’s math or racing—just make sure it’s your choice. Not something you’re avoiding.” Y/N hesitated.

She had been avoiding it, hadn’t she?

But it wasn’t because of Ollie.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

—

Her presence in the paddock didn’t go unnoticed. Carlos was the first to bring it up. “You and Bearman seem close.” he mused after bumping into her in the hospitality area.

Lewis, who had been listening in, smirked. “More than close. Kid looked like he was waiting for her approval after his last win.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “I’ve seen him stare at telemetry less intensely than he looks at you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re all being ridiculous.”

“Are we?” Charles grinned. “Because Ollie is watching you right now.”

She turned, and sure enough, across the paddock, Ollie was mid-conversation with an engineer but still stealing glances at her. The moment their eyes met, he smirked and gave her a lazy salute before turning back to his conversation.

Kimi Antonelli, the youngest among them, just chuckled. “You should probably just put him out of his misery.”

Y/N ignored them.

Mostly.

“So, when’s this big math thing?” Ollie asked, catching up with her after a long day in the paddock.

“July.” she answered.

“Alright. If you win a medal, I’ll let you call strategy for my next race.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I take you on a hot lap, and you have to admit that racing is cooler than doing equations.”

It was a ridiculous bet.

But Ollie looked so smug, so certain he’d win, that she couldn’t help herself. “Fine.” she agreed, shaking his hand. And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure which outcome she wanted more.

—

Despite their deal, Y/N and Ollie had fallen into a routine. She was deep in training for the olympiad, and he was busy racing across Europe, but somehow, they still found time for each other.

Their conversations started out competitive, Ollie sending her video clips of his best overtakes, asking for her "mathematical analysis," just to get a reaction.

Ollie: be honest, did I calculate my braking perfectly or what?

Y/N: you cut it too close in Turn 7

Y/N: if you keep doing that, probability says you’ll get penalized eventually

Ollie: probability also says I’ll pull it off every time.

Y/N: that’s not how probability works??

Ollie: that’s how I work :)

At some point, the conversations became… more. Late-night texts about nothing and everything. Ollie asking about her training, even though he barely understood half of what she was saying. Y/N watching his races, even when she pretended she didn’t care.

One evening, she was deep into a geometry proof when her phone buzzed.

Ollie: do you ever take breaks, or do you just absorb math through osmosis?

Y/N: breaks are inefficient.

Ollie: you know what else is inefficient? overworking your brain until it melts.

She sighed, rubbing her temples.

Y/N: and what do you suggest i do instead?

Ollie: something fun

Y/N: define ‘fun’

Ollie: call me XD

She hesitated. Their texts were one thing, but a call? It was different. But before she could overthink it, she hit the button. Ollie picked up instantly. “Wow. Didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“You said fun. I’m testing your definition.”

His chuckle sent a strange warmth through her. “Alright, genius. Let’s see if I can impress you with something other than lap times.”

They talked for hours. About racing, about numbers, about everything in between. It was easy. Natural. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t mind it.

—

The weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix arrived, and Y/N found herself back in the Ferrari garage, standing in the same spot where she had first met Ollie. She wasn’t a racing fan. She kept telling herself that. But her eyes still sought out the timing screens, scanning for his name.

He was starting P3. A solid position. But Monaco was unforgiving. Overtaking here was a different kind of battle—one that required both patience and risk. As the race began, she gripped her headset tighter than she intended.

Lap after lap, Ollie stayed behind the two leaders, waiting. Her father, standing beside her, noticed. “He’s playing the long game.”

Y/N nodded, focused. “Like he should.” With ten laps to go, the car ahead made a mistake. A lock-up.

Y/N held her breath.

Ollie pounced.

A daring move down the inside of Turn 10. Inches from disaster. She exhaled as he made it stick. Now, it was just him and the leader.

“Come on, Bearman.” she whispered.

With five laps left, she saw it before it even happened. The leader’s tires were gone. Ollie had managed his perfectly.

One chance. A gap opened. He took it.

The Ferrari garage erupted as Ollie crossed the finish line first. Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. But the moment that hit her the hardest?

His first radio message.

“This win goes to my strategist.”

Her heart skipped. He found her in the celebrations, helmet off, eyes searching—until they locked onto hers. And suddenly, it wasn’t just about the race.

For the Bearman, racing had always been everything. It was all he had ever wanted. But lately, something had changed. It started with little things—how he’d instinctively look for Y/N in the paddock, how her absence at a race bothered him more than he’d admit, how their late-night texts had become something he needed rather than just enjoyed.

Then came the bigger realization. The moment he won, he didn’t think about the trophy, the team, or the celebrations.

He wondered what she would say. Would she analyze his lap times? Admit he was right about Turn 4? And that’s when it hit him.

He was completely, absolutely in love with her

—

Ollie had barely made it through his post-race interviews before the questions shifted. “So Ollie, your radio message—who’s ‘your strategist’?”

Ollie chuckled, shaking his head. “Just someone who keeps me in check.”

“More important than your race engineer?”

“She’d say yes.”

The reporters paused “She? So, it’s a girl?”

Ollie sighed, but the grin never left his face. "Next question." The speculation exploded. Social media flooded with theories, blurry pictures of him talking to Y/N in the paddock, clips of their earlier interactions.

Her dad wasn’t surprised. "You should have known he wouldn’t keep it quiet."

“I did know.” she muttered, scrolling through an article titled ‘Ollie Bearman’s Secret Strategist: The Genius Behind the Headset?’

Isa sent her a text on their groupchat.

Isa: girl u are literally trending rn

Kai: do we get paddock passes🥺🥺

Y/N: lol no

She was still debating how to handle it when her phone buzzed again.

Ollie: pls tell me ur not mad

Y/N: mad? no, slightly horrified? yas

Ollie: at least they didn’t find our bet lol

Y/N: give em some time

She could practically hear his laughter through the screen.

—

Y/N had never been one to get attached easily. But Ollie? He had a way of making it impossible to keep her distance.

It started with the small things. The way he always found her in the Ferrari hospitality unit, plopping down across from her with that infuriatingly easygoing grin. The way he’d text her after every race, win or lose, as if her opinion mattered more than anyone else’s. And the way he made her care about racing.

“You seem happier lately.” Charles Leclerc teased one evening in the Ferrari motorhome.

Y/N barely glanced up from her laptop. “And you’re getting slower in Sector 2.”

Carlos Sainz, sitting beside Charles, burst out laughing. “She got you there, mate.” Charles rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, his gaze flicked toward Ollie, who was casually leaning against the doorway, watching Y/N with that same look he always had when she wasn’t paying attention.

Carlos smirked. “So, when are you two admitting it?”

Y/N frowned. “Admitting what?”

“That you like each other,” Max Verstappen cut in from the other side of the room, completely unbothered as he scrolled through his phone. “It’s obvious.”

Y/N scoffed. “We’re friends.”

“Sure.” Max drawled. “And I drive slow.” Lewis Hamilton, who had been silently sipping his tea, finally looked up. “It’s fine if you’re in denial. Just don’t let it distract you. Relationships in F1 are complicated.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Good thing we’re not in one, then.”

Ollie, who had been suspiciously quiet this whole time, finally spoke. “Yet.” The room fell silent.

Y/N’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Ollie grinned. “I said ‘yet.’”

Carlos let out a low whistle. “Bold move, boy.”

Y/N, meanwhile, felt her face heat up. She was used to Ollie’s teasing, but this? This felt different. “You’re insufferable.” she muttered, focusing back on her laptop.

“Maybe,” Ollie said easily. “But you’re still stuck with me.”

And the worst part? He was right. But now, there was something unspoken between them, something neither of them dared to acknowledge.

Until one night in Monza.

It was late, the paddock mostly empty, the distant hum of the circuit lights buzzing overhead. Y/N had stayed behind to finish some work, and Ollie, as usual, had found her.

“You know,” he said, sitting across from her at one of the hospitality tables, “for someone who doesn’t like F1, you spend an awful lot of time in the paddock.”

She shrugged. “Force of habit.”

“Right.” Ollie leaned forward. “Or maybe you just like being around me.”

She snorted. “Delusional.”

He grinned. “I prefer optimistic.” There was a pause. A rare moment of quiet between them. Then Ollie, unusually serious, asked, “Do you ever think about what happens after this?”

“After what?”

“This. Us. Me in F1, you off solving the world’s hardest equations or whatever it is you’ll end up doing.”

Y/N hesitated. Because, for the first time, she realized she didn’t have an answer. Numbers were predictable. Racing was not. And neither was Ollie Bearman. He stepped beside her, hands in his pockets. “So. What did you think?” He said breaking the silence.

“Of the race?” she asked, though they both knew that wasn’t what he meant.

“Of everything.”

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. It was a ridiculous situation—two people who were too proud, too stubborn, yet somehow always orbiting each other.

Ollie exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You know what? No, I’m saying it. You’re—” He paused, visibly struggling with the words. “You’re annoying.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’re annoying. You always have to be right, you never let me win an argument, and you act like you don’t care when you clearly do.”

She blinked. “First of all, I am always right. Second, you’re the one who keeps picking fights with me. And third—” She faltered for just a second. “I don’t care.”

Ollie let out a dry laugh. “Yeah? Then why do you always wait for my race results before you go to sleep?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Wha- how do you even know that?”

“Because Charles told me. Apparently, you asked about my sprint race before anything else last weekend.”

Damn it, Charles.

Y/N felt her face heat up, but she refused to back down. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right. Just like how I don’t notice when you’re in the garage, even though I somehow always drive better when you’re watching?”

She swallowed. “Coincidence.”

He huffed, looking almost amused. “You really don’t make this easy.”

“You don’t either.” she muttered. A beat passed. Then another.

And then, with a voice quieter than before, Ollie said, “You know what? I like y- No. I love you.” She stiffened. The words felt so foreign coming from him—blunt, direct, but still carrying that same defiance he always had.

She hesitated for a second too long, so he quickly added, “Not that it matters. I mean, if you’re going to pretend you don’t feel the same way, then—”

“I never said that,” she interrupted.

He froze.

She exhaled slowly. “You’re annoying too. Always teasing, always acting like you don’t care when you obviously do. And it’s exhausting.”

Ollie tilted his head slightly, eyes searching hers. “So, what are you saying?”

She looked away, glaring at the Ferrari logo on the wall as if it would save her. “I’ll give you my answer,” she said quietly, "after my olympiad.”

Ollie blinked. “You’re making me wait?”

“You make me wait every race weekend to see if you actually listen to my advice.”

He groaned, running a hand through his curls. “You are impossible.”

She shot him a glare. “Take it or leave it, Bearman.”

He let out a short laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take it.” His answering grin was slow, filled with something dangerous—because Ollie Bearman never backed down from a challenge.

—

The International Mathematics Olympiad arrived faster than she expected. Almost 6 weeks of nothing but numbers, equations, and the thrill of proving the impossible. When the final results were announced, she stood on the podium, a gold medal around her neck, her country’s flag draped behind her.

She had done it.

And the first person she texted?

Y/N: i placed first!

Ollie: so that means I get a strategist, right?

Y/N: guess i owe you an answer

Ollie: finally

When she returned home, he was already waiting. She met him at the Ferrari garage—after hours, when most people had already left, and the place was quiet except for the hum of machinery and the faint smell of oil and rubber. Ollie was leaning against the side of his car, arms crossed, but the moment he saw her walk in, his expression softened.

“So,” he said, watching her carefully. “Did solving equations help you figure things out?”

“Yeah,” she said simply. Ollie raised an eyebrow. “And?”

She tilted her head slightly, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

“I like you.” It was so effortless, so blunt, that it completely threw him off. He had expected a debate, some kind of teasing remark, maybe even a dramatic build-up. Not this.

“You—” He blinked, mouth parting slightly. “You really waited this long just to say that?”

She shrugged. “Had to be sure.”

Ollie let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “God, you’re impossible.”

And then—he kissed her.

It wasn’t careful or calculated. It was instinct, reckless and real, like something that had been waiting to happen for too long. She froze for a second, then kissed him back, just as certain.

The sound of a camera shutter snapped them out of it.

Ollie pulled back just enough to glance toward the entrance—where, through the gap in the garage doors, a group of photographers had their lenses pointed directly at them.

His jaw clenched. “You have got to be kidding me.”

She blinked up at him, a little breathless, then exhaled sharply. “Guess we’re making headlines tomorrow.”

Ollie groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable.”

—

You’re right, the headlines the next morning were everywhere.

“Ferrari’s Rising Star Ollie Bearman and Mystery Girl—More Than Just Friends?”

“Caught in 4K: Young F1 Driver’s Late-Night Garage Romance!”

At first, people were just trying to figure out who the mystery girl was. But then, someone zoomed in on the photo and noticed about who that girl is.

“WAIT. ISN’T THIS THE GIRL WHO JUST PLACED FIRST AT THE IMO??”

“YOU’RE TELLING ME FERRARI’S FUTURE STAR JUST BAGGED A MATHEMATICAL GENIUS???”

“Ollie Bearman. Sir. How did you pull THAT?”

Ollie nearly threw his phone across the room when he saw the last comment. “You’re kidding me.” he muttered, scrolling through the article. The picture was clear, him and Y/N in the Ferrari garage, mid-kiss. There was no way out of it.

His phone buzzed.

Y/N: wow we’re famous

Ollie: you think this is funny?

Y/N: a little

Ollie: i’m going to eat whoever took that photo.

Y/N: too late, my mom already sent it to all my relatives

Ollie groaned. His face was burning. Great. A few hours later, Y/N showed up at his place, looking way too calm about the whole thing.

“You look way too amused.” Ollie said, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe.

She shrugged. “I think it’s funny. Besides, it’s not like we were planning to keep it secret forever.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, but I was hoping for a little control over how people found out.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You? Control? Ollie, you kissed me first.”

His face turned red instantly. “That’s—shut up.” She smirked, stepping inside and flopping onto his couch like she owned the place. “And now the whole world knows. Congrats, loverboy.”

He groaned. “You’re the worst.”

“You like me, though.”

Ollie sighed, defeated, before sitting beside her. He nudged her shoulder lightly. “Unfortunately.”

She grinned. “Lucky me.”

Despite the chaos, despite the headlines and the teasing texts from the other drivers.

Lewis: Look at our little Ollie, all grown up!

Charles: I expect wedding invites.

Kimi: can you two not do this in the Ferrari garage next time?

He groaned dramatically, but when she laced her fingers through his, he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe the whole world knowing wasn’t so bad. Maybe, for once, he didn’t mind being the center of attention.

Because if there was one thing that mattered more than racing, more than headlines, more than anything—It was her.

#ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman x reader #ollie x reader #ollie bearman #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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