stormy weather leads to stormy thoughts about a years long friendship.
What happens in Vegas by @theemporium
too many shots and a bet leads to a very interesting night out. it’s just a shame neither of them can remember it and the whole world is discovering the details alongside with them.
Smau
What Happens in Vegas by @pucksandpower
Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader
the morning after the Las Vegas Grand Prix, you wake up with one new wedding ring and zero clue about what happened … or who your husband is
Married in Vegas, pt 2 by @mastermind123
We might get married in Vegas
Seven by @/mastermind123
Max Verstappen × FemSchumacher!reader
Love in the Fast lane by @cheriladycl01
Max Verstappen meeting an Actress who has actively been a F1 fan from before the limelight gets invited to the Monza GP after her recent film debut.
Careful by @hamiltonells
just y/n and max being the main couple of the paddock
pieces of us by @/hamiltonells
you always wanted to become a mother, now the time has come.
𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 by @lxclerc
you think max dislikes you but as it turns out, it’s the complete opposite.
single mom!reader x max verstappen
Daddy duties by @masalateaaa
Day in the life of Max as a girl dad!
3 is a Family! By @/masalateaaa
How Max, his son and you make a perfect family. Single dad Max.
two sides of the same coin by @monzabee
The one where you try to convince yourself that you’re not falling for your teammate, but can’t help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all.
beach read by @/monzabee
The one where you and Max go on a holiday for the first time, and you realize just how much you love ‘Vacation Max’.
#1 supporter by @reqxxyt
birthday cake by @/reqxxyt
Crowning Glory by @nataliawrites
Max Verstappen x Princess of the Netherlands!Reader
Paddock Pass pt.2 by @joelslegalwhre
You‘ve been with Max and the RedBull team for several races now, and the relationship between Max and you has turned into something neither of you would ever give up now.
no clue by @leclsrc
Max turns into a wordy, smiley mess when he’s around you. Problem is, everyone knows this but the both of you. The Internet does what they can with the tools they have (aka Twitter.)
smau
Long Time Lovers by @libraryofloveletters
Lost But Found by @/libraryofloveletters
even the best of the friends can have falling outs, especially when you’re on opposites side of the track.
smau
healing the inner child by @thepersonnamedsam
Baby Pink by @tierneysodegaard
Hollywood by @/tierneysodegaard
The reader is Max's biggest celebrity crush and they meet for the first time at Monaco/Miami GP.
I’d Give It All Up by @lovingperfectionsblog
Y/n and Charles end up in an accident and Max has to face the fear of losing the woman he loves.
hate is a strong word, don’t you think by @alwayschoppedtaco
you’ve never gotten along with max, but that can all change after an action filled day leads to some late night conversation
“Is that my hoodie?” by @danielriccixrdo
𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 by @leclercdreams
Keep away by @xhopelesslyromanticx
Sneaking around with your brothers biggest rival probably was the worst idea you ever had, especially with everything that happened last year. So as this season started there' was only one question on your mind; could you keep away from one another?
P1 IN YOUR HEART by @f1version
5 times you told Max his cats were P1 in your heart, and 1 time he did a Grand Slam.
on the outside: instagram au by @simp-and-shift
wolff!reader
that funny feeling by @two-white-butterflies
Max soft-launches his girlfriend. His girlfriend hard-launches him.
Actress!reader
blissful ignorance by @scudevils
max was never short of confidence, he had trust in his ability in the car, he knew he could win, and he did win, the only thing he was never truly confident in getting was you
Two Worlds Collided by @neymarsangel
Dating the man that beat your Dad’s golden boy to his eighth world championship wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.
teddy bears & blankets by @illicitlimerence-writes
a conversation stuck in your throat by @/illicitlimerence-writes
Fanboy by @/illicitlimerence-writes
Perfect by @/illicitlimerence-writes
Art by @/illicitlimerence-writes
just an incident by @thatsdemko
hard launch by @fiftiefive
a tweet asking about which driver is best shipped with you blows up and Max decides to put it to an end
smau
My Girls by @idkwhatimdoinghere1655
Save A Dance by @/idkwhatimdoinghere1655
Baby Fever by @/idkwhatimdoinghere1655
Change [Mini Verstappen Series] by @multifandomgirl08
It’s the end of the F1 season. Some things are changing for the Verstappen’s.
Just Pretend by @/multifandomgirl08
It had been a few years since you had seen Max. Since you had left him in Paris.
max, don’t panic by @ferrstappen
maxplaining 2.0 by @/ferrstappen
Luca Verstappen’s first press conference during his karting career. turns out, he even speaks like his dad.
max, the wag (for the third time) by @/ferrstappen
could you be more obvious? By @/ferrstappen
you show up pregnant for the first race of 2024, just six months after Max won his 3rd WDC.
what are we doing here? By @/ferrstappen
Bags by @sinofwriting
his haven by @holysainz
the rest of the world may see him as mad max but you bring out another side of him
Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter! Reader Headcanons by @bellewintersroe
𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 by @chrisevansonly
Angry Dutch by @mythos-writes
Even though they’re driving partners, they didn’t see eye to eye. But after a crash between the two Red Bull drivers, it could be the end of these two as driving partners…
Secret by @cutielando
in which you’re in love with the enemy
wolff!reader
Little Verstappen by @hemmingsleclerc
Olivia Verstappen doesn't let her father focus on his post-race interview
Bath Time by @/hemmingsleclerc
Anytime by @chillielo
you have a habit of tugging on people’s shirts to get their attention, but you’re not so sure if max would mind if you did it to him.
Missing Piece | @fastandcarlos
Fans are beginning to notice your absence around the paddock, little do they know the amazing reason you’re finding yourself hiding away
Streamer Baby | @/fastandcarlos
when max leaves you and your daughter to stream for the night, only one of you is happy to let max go and play for a while
A Decade Of Love | @/fastandcarlos
as you and max celebrate ten years together, take a look at a snapshot of your social media for each one of those years
Gen z | @coco-loco-nut
everyone seems to forget that Max is 26
Bubbles | @elizaleclerc
max comes home to gf!reader and the mess she made
girl dad | @lightsoutletsgo
so american | @yauchfilms
y/n is teasing way too many things at once…..can the fans keep up?
Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush | @f0point5
Overprotective | @loonylupinblack3
Going to the club and getting drunk without your overprotective boyfriend is never a good idea
café de paris | @tinycoffeeroom
Not Quite Temptation | @sinofwriting
Christian introduces Max to his daughter.
4 plus 1 | @/sinofwriting
Four times Logan celebrated mothers day and the first time he celebrated fathers day
blue jeans | @landorris
where lando norris and fernando alonso ask a random girl to play padel with them in max’s team
So American | @lxclerc
where max verstappen is the subject of a love song from a singer who never writes love songs
good luck | @55szn
when max and y/n adopt a black cat and everyone thinks it’s bringing him bad luck, they are determined to prove them wrong
GORGEOUS | @verstappen-cult
Two of the most successful people in the world start dating.
I’m not clingy, you’re clingy. | @lightsoutnaway
Max doesn't want you to go out on a night with your friends but insists he isn't clingy.
Friends | @afterglowsainz
you and max broke up a few months ago and he can’t seem to get over it, looking for a second chance with you or at the very least, be friends
Risk | @/afterglowsainz
max confess in an interview that he took his nieces to y/n’s concert and made her a bracelet with his number on it
I'mgonnagetyouback, part 2 | @/afterglowsainz
after you and max broke up you released an album about it and when you go on tour, you didn’t expected max to be there front row after being dragged by his new girlfriend’s daughter
OOPS | @diqldrunks
girlfriend reveal | @maxverstappendefender
max verstappen being the perfect boyfriend: a compilation | @harrysfolklore
max verstappen can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it
From Gridlock to Loveland | @mrschtappen
childhood friends Max Verstappen and you, the daughter of racing legend Michael Schumacher, evolve from best friends to fierce rivals to teammates. maybe then to lovers….?
Schumacher!reader
By the Book | @sweetcherrybmb
college is hard… senior year is harder… the final week is hell… all of that, along with media attention, makes for an interesting time…
don’t trust the bitch in apt 33! | @ham1lton
your new apartment in monaco is amazing. it’s close to your friends, family and work, it has incredible amenities and your neighbours for the most part seem kind. the only issue is your upstairs neighbour, who games all night and sleeps all day, and is insufferably loud while doing it.
Streaming | @foreveradreamaway
a compilation of moments from maxs streams
Twin | @housepartyprotocol
Lando’s twin catches the attention of a driver, a certain Dutch one
Verstappen Family Masterlist | @changetyre
Look after my friends | @/changetyre
You and Max have friends from the grid over for a nice family day when they decide to try a trend on you...it doesn't go exactly as planned.
max verstappen x !o’ward single mother reader
smau
they fooled no one | @princepiastri
there’s a fine line between love and hate
smau
ending the war | @/princepiastri
max’s girlfriend loves to post embarrassing photos of him
smau
Ginger Spice’s daughter!reader x Max Verstappen | @alonetimelover
After getting over her fear of getting into a relationship, YN started to ‘soft launch’ her new partner. Of course everybody knew who it was, but she wanted her fun. Harry didn’t like it and still was petty. Max had had enough.
smau
The Missing Ring | @charlotteking27
When you can’t find your engagement ring on Monaco Grand Prix morning, you spend the entire race day desperately hiding your bare finger from cameras, but Formula 1 fans notice everything, and the internet explodes with breakup theories and conspiracy threads about your relationship with Max.
Practice Makes Perfect | @/charlotteking27
Max is teaching you how to sim race, but you are so bad, so when Max is gone to races, you are practicing and getting better, and one day you surprise Max by showing the improvement.
The pretty interviewer | @/charlotteking27
You are Max’s favorite interviewer…so much that he will not stop flirting with you.
Ashamed | @lovingperfectionsblog
You cannot stay with a man that is ashamed to be with you.
Mini Verstappen Series Masterlist | @multifandomgirl08
At the end of 2020, Max Verstappen gets the surprise of his life when he finds out that his ex-girlfriend had given birth to a son, his son. A year and a half later Max’s longtime girlfriend of 8 months finds out about his son Nico.
Mommy and Me [Mini Verstappen Series | @/multifandomgirl08
Late one evening after dinner Y/N brought up the idea to Max for her to take Nico out for the day.
Something Bad, Something Good | @/multifandomgirl08
Reader deals with the haters on Twitter, Nico calls Reader Mama. Max claps back at the haters on Instagram like the malewife that he strives to be.
just screeching tyres & true love | @maplesyrupsainz
in which an attempt to sabotage your relationship works in your favour
Do-over | @/maplesyrupsainz
in which they meet again and rekindle their relationship much to the delight of their fans
smau
My girls | @lewisvinga
max being the absolute best girl dad to y/n’s daughter, even if she isn’t his
Aristocat | @/lewisvinga
y/n couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make an instagram account for hers and max’s latest child
𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐚 | @imnameimswrld
in which a simple can of cherry cola changes the whole dynamic of a pair of rivals relationship
This One's For Your Girlfriend | @stzrgirl4norris
what is the best way to get revenge out of your cheating boyfriend? simple answer. date his favorite driver.
Sonnet No. 33 | @/stzrgirl4norris
Max falls in love with the cute fan who is also a double major student with a lot to teach him
FULL OF FAN BEHAVIOR, | @nouvellevqgue
smau
Long live the walls we crashed through | @propertyofhenrywinter
you are involved in a crash so horrid everyone assumes you couldn’t have survived.
driver!reader
the cat sitter (series) | @archiverstappen
christian horner’s daughter!reader | @maybankprincess
in which yn promised she would never fall for a driver until a certain driver made her take back her promise
smau
freckle kisses | @auggieblogs
cuddling > anything else | @/auggieblogs
Playing Cupid | @pucksandpower
convinced that you and Max must be the most oblivious people on earth, the rest of the grid decide to take matters into their own hands
Red Bull driver!Reader
Young Love and Old Money | @/pucksandpower
Max quickly learns that life with the paddock’s favorite nepo baby as his girlfriend is never boring
stroll!reader
Wagification | @/pucksandpower
your job was slowly crushing your soul and stealing your sanity … until Max showed you the pleasure to be found in letting yourself be cherished and cared for (or in which a chronically overworked Sky Sports analyst becomes a WAG)
Since Forever | @/pucksandpower
there’s been one constant in Max’s life since his first wobbly toddler steps in the paddock — he’s loved her since he was ten, through scraped knees and family vacations — and now it’s time that the rest of the world knows it too
Schumacher!Reader
Crazy Cravings | @/pucksandpower
pregnancy cravings can make you (and your husband) do crazy things … neither of you particularly minds
Right of Way | @/pucksandpower
you park in a handicap spot because you actually need it. He calls you a selfish asshole before noticing your prosthetic leg. Most men would apologize and disappear. Max Verstappen buys you lunch, falls pathetically in love with you, and eventually tells his father to fuck off when he insults you in the paddock. Sometimes the worst first impressions make the best love stories.
professional curiosity | @velveteenrxbbits
an indycar star headed for history meets a formula 1 champion who’s already there. it only takes a little fumble and a little bit of meddling from her teammates for fate to do the rest.
smau
Shared Custody | @miaaxxzf1
Fresh move-in and your indoor cat is already sneaking to the balcony next door for her bengal boyfriend
ITS BRITNEY BITCH | @lecz3li
where in you're nico rosberg's younger sister who decided to appear more frequently on the f1 media and races, so what happens if you caught an eye of a dutch lion?
smau
BONUS HEART | @sainzxn
working as the red bull racing media admin meant your daughter was familiar with the paddock, amd the one and only max verstappen.
Family Game Stream | @lap90
Max is mid-stream — headphones on, super focused, chat going wild —when a tiny knock hits his door. Their toddler peeks in, clutching a stuffed animal, big sleepy eyes. The rest of the stream is basically Max doing baby-talk commentary while pretending his toddler is carrying the whole team.
The Space Between | @/lap90
two years ago, Max Verstappen asked his wife for space, crumbling under the pressure of a championship fight. He got the space, but he lost his family. Now, Y/N is back in the paddock, but she’s not alone. As Max fights to prove he’s more than just a weekend father, Y/N must decide if she’s ready to move on with the “perfect” guy, or if she’s brave enough to return to the man who broke her heart—but never stopped holding it.
The Quiet Commitment | @/lap90
symbolic present → commitment level unlocked.
His Favourite | @tracksidebaby
It's no secret that Max Verstappen has no time for press, media and interviews. That is unless you're there.
smau
Vogue Beauty Secrets | @ijustwannabecool
Vogue asks Y/N to film her skincare and makeup routine.
love song | @sainzzreputaticn
a slip up reveals a secret about max’s personal life and everybody is invested. Schumacher!Reader
smau
5 times | @disneyprincemuke
there are five times max almost caught himself saying he loves you, and then there’s the time that he finally let you know. horner’s niece!reader
we’re on each other’s team | @norris55s
red bull driver reader x max verstappen social media au
Finish line | @/norris55s
red bull engineer reader x max verstappen social media au
Babygirl | @chillielo
max verstappen, f1 driver, three-time world champion, and your babygirl.
YOU AND ME AGAINST THE WORLD | @katebishopsbow
nobody enjoys being booed, and even the toughest of fighters like max verstappen would get disheartened from it. looking right through his act on camera, you decided to give your brother a call to tell him how proud of him you were. what you didn’t expect though, was to hear max cry.
max verstappen x sister!reader
navy fury | @delulujuls
max is struggling with asking for help, reader is trying her best to let him know that she always got his back
celebrations are in order | @cutielando
in which you make the most of his third WDC
smau
you mean everything | @predestinatos
max needed a wedding date and you were used to being his fake partner.
At Fault | @itsallyscorner
Max invites his ex to a gp and upsets you. Soft and stubborn Max, but he’s a cutie. A mix between angst and fluff, but mostly fluff towards the end. Lots of reader just ranting.
WHERE THE HELL IS MY HUSBAND | @/lecz3li
where in ' ever since you posted the engagement ring, everyone started thinking you're engaged to this driver and it drove max crazy and decided he wanted to reveal it himself.
genre: angst, fluff, humor, lots of back and forth, smut
word count: 9.1k
Fixated, you and Max struggle to stay away from one another. All the while, everyone tries to convince you that it won't ever work out.
nsfw warning under the cut!
18+...penetrative sex, fingering
inspired by star-crossed, ethan gander !
cherry here!...as a wise person once told me: footnotes = crumbs. hope that helps!! enjoy :)
The table was long, practically going for miles, but not really—it was just your closest friends. They all converse with one another, talking about the upcoming season, the upcoming season, and oh, what’s that? The upcoming season. And you’ve had enough of it, he can tell, so he gently rubs his thumb over your hand, easing your nervous tick.
White florals lay neatly on the wooden top, fairy lights hang up above your heads, and Frank Sinatra plays from your fiancé’s phone, connected to the Bluetooth.
Pierre stands up firmly, clinking his glass with a spoon. When it doesn’t seem to get anyones attention, Alex lets out a loud whistle. Everyone’s heads turn. “Merde—finally. Well, first of all, welcome on behalf of the groom's best man!” Crickets. His smile drops. “I-Its me. I’m the best man.”
“More like Best Party Killer. Sit down,” Daniel yells, aiming a peony at his friend's head.
The Frenchman swats it away, to which Kika glares as it hits her. He nervously chuckles, pecking her cheek, swiftly. “Comme je le disais…we’re here to celebrate two very important people. Can ya take a guess?”
“Why did you choose Pierre as your best man again?” you whisper to the twenty-six year old. He shrugs, hushing you once before his watercolor eyes flicker back to his friend.
“Any more guesses?”
“Okay, thank you!” you yelp, standing up and motioning him down. “Thank you, Pierre, for saying a whole lot of nothing, really.”
The blue eyed boy silently pleads, hands pressed together in prayer. “Oui, oui, I’m done, I’m done.” A warm hand snakes to wrap around your wrist and you sigh, sitting back down onto his lap. He clears his throat. “I thought we could go around and…share some stories about the soon-to-be husband and wife. I’ll start.”
“Great,” Kika groans, massaging her temples.
“September 4, 2022.”
-
Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)
“You said it would be warm!”
Lissie squeals when you reach out to pinch her forearm. “I said slightly warm. More so cool.” A harsh glare. She winces. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
Despite the evident goosebumps, you march your way over to the pen, awaiting your first interview. Lissie stands besides you, raising two thumbs up and a toothy grin. You got this! Your stomach churns as you fix your set up. She’s right, you’ve worked for this moment, day and night. You weren't going to mess up for any reas—
“Should I just come back later or…”
Blinking, your heart stops beating as your mouth runs completely dry. He looks around for his publicist who just sighs and starts tugging him away.
And we’re here with Max Verstappen, Lissie hisses—assisists. Coughing loudly, you bring up the microphone to your lips. “Max Verstappen!” The RedBull driver turns back to face you, clearly puzzled. You cringe at your sudden outburst, but continue. “So nice to see you. Saw you had a magnificent drive.”
Blue eyes pierce basically through your soul. He smiles, shoulders relaxing, hands leaning against the barrier. “Yeah. We did have a lot of luck on our side today. Plenty.”
It wasn’t that hard to pick up from there, question after question being basically given to you, to which he answers with professional ease. His dimples even pop out with every punctuation, it makes your chest swell. You clear your throat, eyes flickering to your list that now narrows down to one last inquiry.
“Everyone nowadays fears you, it seems like.” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “But I do have one question—how does it feel to be the villain in all of Formula One?”
His smile slips away. “Sorry?”
“Uh-oh,” Lissie mutters.
But you don’t catch onto it, his sudden defensive tone, his dark glare. Beaming like the sun on the earth, you nod. “Well you aren’t the most liked, per se. Often hated by others. Do you think your dominance has affected your relationship with the drivers on the grid?”
When you finally look up, you clearly notice his change in demeanor, and that makes you flinch. We should get going, his publicist squeaks, already pushing him away. Let’s not air that last question, thank you.
Fiercely, you turn to face your friend. “I still had a minute left!”
“Why would you say that?” she screeches. “Why, why, why?”
You blink. “I’m lost. What did I do wrong?”
The brunette sighs, brown orbs analyzing the short clip. “You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what.”
-
“Their relationship had started rather…rocky,” Pierre announces, swaying his hands back and forth for emphasis. “But don’t you worry! I. Fixed. Everything.”
-
“She really said that?”
Max whips his head to Checo, then to Yuki, then to Pierre. Each wears a loopy smile. He scowls. “She’s new here, she must be—I’ve never seen her before. Who does she think she is?”
“A legend, that’s who,” the Frenchman retorts, almost high and mighty.
Max takes a long sip of his energy drink before scoffing. “I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”
A few hours have now rolled by and you’ve finally realized—you messed up. Here you go, basically painting him out to be the bad guy, when really, he’s just a strong driver. No one thinks he’s a villain, you think he’s a villain.
“You think he’s going to protest against me? Get me fired? Boycott? Hates me?”
Lissie giggles, tidying up the equipment from the last round. “No. No. No. Maybe?”
Groaning, you hit your forehead over and over again with your clipboard before a sharp accent makes you stop. “Hello.”
“Oh! Hi!”
His lips stretch, then steps closer to you. “I’m Pierre—”
“I know who you are,” you cut him off. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m—”
“New?”
Your cheeks burn up at his accuracy. “Yes?”
“I thought so,” he pronounced with a goofy grin. Annoyance builds up inside of you but hold back and bite your tongue. The Frenchman fixes his sunglasses that lay on the bridge of his nose. “So…I’m going to take the chance and say that what you asked wasn’t meant to hurt his feelings?”
You soften up quickly. “I hurt his feelings?”
A nose scrunch. “Let me backtrack; Max doesn’t have feelings, therefore there’s nothing to hurt, but he does hold killer grudges, so yeah.” He lifts the frames. “He doesn’t like you.”
“Lovely,” Lissie mumbles from her spot besides you. “Is there a way…we…can fix all this misunderstanding? Because that’s what this is! A misunderstanding!”
The Alpha Tauri driver clicks his tongue in deep thought. “There’s not much to do other than apologize. Explain yourselves, maybe? He’s very Old-Fashioned.”
“Okay, yes.” You scurry down the paddock. “I could do that! I could so do that.”
“Other way!” he yells. Turning around, you see him pointing you down to the right. You giggle, nervously, and continue your sprint.
You catch him quite fast; his tall stature and blond hair are pretty easy to spot. “Hey—hi!” Gasping for air, you clutch onto your side. “H-hello. Again.”
His jaw ticks once, and in an eerie motion, a warm smile forms. You shudder. “Yes?”
“I just wanted to apologize about before. That was not the right thing to say, I am so sorry…please don’t demand for my release.”
A dark brow quirks up, looks around, then back down to you. “I’m not here to ruin your life, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
You sigh in relief. “God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Crouching down to you, he tilts his head to the side with a sly grin. “You’re very welcome, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”
Your breath hitches, shivers spreading like a wildfire. “Sorry?”
“Yeah.” He steps away. “You already said that.”
-
“He was a bit guarded. Definitely guarded.”
“Isn’t this supposed to make me look good?” your fiancé grunts, dark eyes narrowing down on the Frenchman. “You know what? Just sit down.”
Pierre smirks. “See? Guarded.”
-
Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)
“I’m not a quitter.”
“There we go!”
“But he makes me want to quit.”
“Oh, well now we’re back to square one,” Pierre groans. “He’s being hard headed, that’s all. I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry.”
And he does.
It happens during one of the worst moments in your life; you weren’t wearing makeup.
“You look—”
“Hideous?” You blush. “Yeah, don’t even mention it.”
He swallows, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “I wanted to apologize… for the way I reacted. It was immature.”
“N-no, you had every right to be upset. I crossed the line and I’m sorry.”
Max nods, Adam’s Apple dancing up, then down. “Truce?”
Staring down at his large hand, you smile and slip yours past it. “Truce.”
And as a rare occasion, his smile meets his eyes, crinkles and all. The RedBull driver disconnects first, then rubs his jaw once before signaling down to your wet hair. “Pool day, I see? Enjoying the benefits?”
With a cheesy look, you shrug. “It’s one way to relieve stress.”
“Yeah—and what’s another?”
His tone is sultry and irresistible, you can’t help but rip your gaze away. “Anything that brings thrill, I suppose.” A tick. “Whatever that may be.”
“And what if it’s something bad? Does that still count?”
You laugh, throwing your head back. The Dutchman’s lips wobble as a weak attempt to not smile. “You’re not a bad person, so yes.”
His tongue clicks. “Uh, I don't know. As I recall, you called me a villain?”
Groaning, you gently smack his chest. “Will you ever let it go?”
“Might take me a while…”
Just as you’re about to respond, your phone rings and you smile. “L-Lissie.”
The blue eyed boy nods. “Are you going to be interviewing me from now on?”
“Ah—is my ban lifted?”
“Yes.”
You roll your eyes. “Then yes.” Strolling past him, you wave. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”
-
“Where are you even going with any of this?” Lewis hollers from the end of the table, taking a sip of wine. “You’ve just been talking about yourself, not them.”
Pierre scowls. “I’m getting there!” He returns his attention to the couple, gleaming. “So, as you can imagine, once I weaseled my way in and fixed their problems—your welcome, by the way—a certain spark came through. It was clearly evident.”
-
Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)
“Nepo-Baby?”
You hum. “They all are.”
Lissie groans. “So how will I know which one?”
“Oh, you’ll know.”
Squinting accusingly, the British girl sticks her tongue out before standing up, hands on her hips. She yawns. “I have to go find Will. Something about—whatever, you probably don’t even care.”
You giggle. “Nope. Have fun.”
Silence engulfs you as you close your eyes momentarily, pulling your coat over your chest.
“Don’t you have to watch the race in order to report back on it? Ask questions?”
“Dude, I was just falling asleep…” You peek an eye open. “And yes. But it hasn’t started, so I'm clear.”
Max whistles, unimpressed. Falling down next to you on the fluffy couch, he places his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes, too. You try not to laugh and instead do the same.
“Haven’t seen you around much.”
“Been hiding from you.”
“Seems like. Don’t do that.”
“Fine.” You grin, sitting up straight. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
“Probably.”
You snicker, pink tongue poking from in between your teeth. The cold air makes you snuggle deeper into your wannabe-blanket and he can’t help but take occasional glances. Teeth chatter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you.”
“...and I turned and said, isn’t that Celine Dion?” Lissie waves her hands back and forth, swaying like a Fly Guy. She pouts, stopping her movements. “Turns out I was just really freaking high.” Will laughs, jotting down God knows what onto a piece of paper as she continues cluttering herself with an obnoxious amount of wires. The British girl huffs. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it was—” A sharp gasp. “Him? Oh my—it’s him!”
“Don’t you mean her?” Will hums from his spot, still not looking up.
But wide-eyed Lissie stares with her jaw on the floor as you and Max cross by, laughing and pushing each other as you make your way down the paddock. As soon as you blush when he winks, it becomes all the more real. The young reporter nods, curled hair bobbing up and down.
“R-right—her.”
-
Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)
“Is he cute? Yeah, maybe.” A finger pinches her top lip before releasing. “In a weird way.”
“Hey,” you warn.
“Is he your type? Don’t know why, but yes. I could see why you’re into him.”
“Great…”
“But is he the right choice? No. Not at all.”
“...and fantastic.” Flopping down onto your towel, you groan. Suddenly the blazing sun wasn’t the worst feeling because Lissie was right. It’s unbearable, almost. You prop up, facing her with a scrunched nose and squinted eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh?”
“Oh no.” A sip of coconut water. She purses her lips. “God no.” You sigh, slowly, then sprawl back down with a sour snarl. You can hear her debate; muttering, mumbling. Still, that doesn’t get rid of your bad mood. The brunette pokes your thigh gently, nibbling her bottom lip. “He’s just so—and you’re just so—” A beat. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“Yeah.” Waves crash harder. Sun beams brighter. You open up the bottle of sunscreen, spurting some onto your burnt legs. You rub briskly; up, down. She flinches. “Yeah, I know.”
-
“And for a while, that was that,” Pierre announces, feigning indifference. “No more love birds.”
“Oh,” George blurts. Dark brows pinch up, teasing smile playing out. “Then why are we here?”
“Oh God,” you groan, digging your face into the nape of the twenty-six year old. You can faintly sniff out his musk scent, clean and so him. It makes you smile like a teen. “What if we just elope?”
He chuckles, vibrating and sending you on your own personal rollercoaster. “We always can. Is that what you want?” And he asks because he knows—no. That’s not what you want. Separating yourself to peck his cheek, you shake your head with a playful pout. “No. That’s not what I want.”
“Good.” Watercolor eyes flicker to where Pierre finally gets yanked down and Lissie takes over with a proud smile. “Because I think this is actually going somewhere.”
-
Bahrain International Circuit—-March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)
So you kept your distance, and oddly enough, he did too. For plenty of reasons. And it wasn’t even that hard, really. He spent his summer break traveling and you spent yours as a homebody. No texts, no calls, no nothing.
“Heads or tails?”
“Tails.”
A sly grin. The silver coins flips a couple rounds before jumping up and down, clapping. “Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”
“You’re going to get a sugar high and not be able to sleep later.”
“Until I can feel my teeth rot,” you retort, slipping your tongue over your pearly whites.
Answering a few emails, you perch onto a chair. It’s too stiff, so you twist and turn until you ultimately decide to just stand. A gust of wind salutes you as your orbs flicker up to the sudden shadow. A breath catches.
Max tilts his head in greeting. “Working hard already?” Your lips part. “The season’s barely begun.”
And just like that, your world tilts on its axis, but this time with more to lose.
-
“As your best friend—” Lissie points clumsily at Carmen who giggles while the British girl furrows her thick brows. She glances around before spotting you dying with laughter on your fiancé’s lap. She claps. “I knew straight away—he was the one for you.”
-
Miami International Autodrome—-May 7, 2023 (Miami Grand Prix)
“How long has this been going on for?” she hisses, disappointed eyes challenging both you and Max. She gags at the hickeys on your neck and his tousled hair.
With wobbly legs, you take her hands into yours. “A week—”
“No.”
“Well, two—”
Green paints her face. “No.”
“One month,” he murmurs from his corner in the elevator. Watercolor eyes flicker up, loopy. “It’s been a month. Ever since—”
“Azerbaijan.” Shamefully, you look down at your shoes and nearly scream bloody murder when you spot your thong just a few steps behind her. “Ew, gross,” Lissie gasps, shutting her eyes in despair. Taking in the opportunity, you scatter down and retrieve the thin fabric. The Dutchman releases a laugh, but bites down when the British girl glares hard. She curls a brow at your breathless state. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Giggling nervously from your place on the floor, you keep your hands behind your back; out of sight, out of mind. “Begging for forgiveness?”
“Oh stop it, a piece of land is what I need in order to forgive you for being dumb as shit.”
You frown, but quickly stand up when she exits the elevator. You can hear him follow with a bored expression. “Lissie, wait!”
Like a spinning top, she turns back, long layers slapping her pink face. “You two know this isn’t a good idea, right?”
“Yes—”
“For a million different reasons—”
“I-I’m aware,” you stutter.
“Then why did you do it?” she whispers.
And the truth is, you don’t know. All you know is that nothing else matters when you're with him. It’s sickening how blindsighted you get. Anxious eyes twirl over to the blue eyed boy who shared the same expression despite being unbothered a few seconds ago.
Licking your lips, you play with the fabric. “That’s it. We’re done.” You turn to the RedBull driver. “Tell her.”
“Done.”
For a moment, you almost let yourself flinch from how fast and easy he’s able to say that one word. Lissie’s judgmental eyes look at you, then him, then sighs, reluctantly nodding. An awkward moment ticks by and then she’s focused, appalled.
“Are those your panties?”
-
“You were like a dog who couldn’t bear the idea of leaving its bone.” Everyone snickers while you throw the same peony Daniel had aimed at Pierre to shut him up. She laughs, raising her arms up in defense. “And I know—I know—I came in like a monster, warning you off of all the drivers because like it or not, they’re scumbags—”
“Ey. Watch it,” Carlos deadpans from the corner, brown eyes playfully glaring.
She shrugs. “But I no longer liked playing the role of an evil step-sister so…” Tears brim and you choke on a wet sob. “I’m just so happy that you’re happy.” A pause. “That you're both happy.”
Leaping off his thick lap, you rush over, embracing her. She laughs, returning the gesture. “I love you,” you start. I know. “And I’m so happy that you never—”
A knowing smile. “I’d do anything for you.”
-
Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)
Sneaking into his motorhome, you moan as soon as he gets his hands on your; sliding up and down your body with urgency. Heat radiates off of him and onto you. All of this— the cramped room, his lips attacking your neck—makes you dizzy. Clutching onto his sweaty hair, you arch, completely to him and for him.
“We s-shouldn’t.” You gasp. Long fingers tease your aching pussy as you whine. He instantly slaps a large hand over your mouth as he continues his movements. The stretch burns, but it's fairly familiar that you don’t even cry out, just stare back with knitted brows and an open mouth that he can’t see, but can feel expand beneath his palm.
“You’re probably right.” A steady stroke. “You should be out there.” His knuckles curl as he reaches your g-spot. “Preparing those foolish questions.” A muffled moan. “But you’re here, because you know that this excites you as much as it does me.”
Calloused pads push down before drawing figure eights deep inside. “You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be—”
“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t even try and blame it on—”
“Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”
Feeling your orgasm rolling in is one thing, but your snarkiness is another. Gritting your teeth, you force him down to kiss you, teeth and all, and then rip away with a sultry smile. “Maybe, but who cares?”
You’re not completely off. At that moment in time, neither of you cared about the consequences. It’s just that as soon as a room of watchful eyes flicker to you two, you swallow a low wince.
Grabbing your microphone, you fix your disheveled hair. Lissie’s eyes flicker between you and him, slow and scary. Like she’s reading right through you and your lies.
Beaming at the awaiting grid, you raise your chin up. “Who’s ready?”
-
“Finally,” Daniel yells, rolling his cuffed sleeves. “Someone with an actual story to tell.” A wide smile has never made you more nervous than at this very instant, so reasonably so, you swallow the entire glass of—
“Vodka, baby! That was my vodka—your champagne is right there.”
Blinking, you giggle, wiping your plump lips with the back of your hand. “What yours is mine, no? Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”
He chuckles. Lean arms wrap around your waist like a harness. “Keep this up and you’re not going to be able to sleep later.”
“The opposite, actually,” you state as a matter-of-fact. “Just need to get blackout drunk.”
He cocks his head to the side. “That’s not like you.”
“...should have seen her! She was wasted as shit!” the Australian yelps, buzzing with excitement. You nip at the air all while he raises his voice an additional octave. “I found her there, at the bar, close to getting alcohol poisoning, but you know what they say—only drunks and children tell the truth.”
-
Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)
“Oui, the beer! Fucking amazing,” Pierre declares with a mouthful.
“Say it, don’t spray it,” someone screeches, and is quickly identified to be Alex when he wipes his shimmery forehead. You laugh, taking baby sips from your drink. Shirley Temple, because contrary to belief, you weren’t a nasty drunk.
The Frenchman pouts, tapping his fingers against the brown glass. He turns to you with a sheepish grin. “I read your article.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Have to admit, it's kind of boring. It’s not your fault though. Max Verstappen's domination has made the sport sort of…” He pretends to wilt, to which you toss your head back with laughter.
“Your time will come, Pierre, your time will come.”
“Shit, shit, shit! Bathroom!” Lissie’s long legs wobble like a plate of jello as you hurry over to catch her.
“Crap—you smell like shit.”
The British girl squeals, yanking her hair, dancing from side to side. “I smoked a fat blunt, but never mind that, if I don’t find a loo in approximately five seconds, then I will smell like actual shit.”
A nose scrunch. “That’s not very lady-like.” She paces some more. “Let’s go.”
Meanwhile, on the other side of the crowded room, Max watches as the two journalists slip away. He keeps a close eye for a while until a certain brunette swoops in right next to him with a loopy grin and crinkly eyes.
“You should talk to her. Seems like you really like her.”
“What? What makes you say that? What makes you think that?”
Daniel shrugs, rotating his blunt back into his mouth. “Dilation.”
The Dutchman gags. “What…like when a woman gives birth?”
A sore laugh. “As in your eyes.” Another hit. “Y’know…they just look—different. When you look at her, I mean.”
And he hopes it is not apparent that these words make him swallow. For the past year, he’s tried his best to hide his feelings for the sake of not making a fool out of himself, and later for a whole other, but…
He licks his sudden dry lips. “Hm. Doesn’t matter if my eyes fucking shine or not, she’s not my type.”
The Australian frowns. “Sucks. Lissie’s really cool.” His eyes flicker over to the RedBull driver in a nonchalant manner, but when he blinks back with rose tinted cheeks, despite not having a sip of alcohol, he chokes on his puff. “Oh shit, no…”
In a flash, Max yanks the blunt away, dipping it into an anonymous drink. “You’re right, she is so cool—”
Brown eyes narrow down in accusation, brows knitted sharply. “Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie…” A wince. “Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.”
And just like that, Daniel notices the blown out pupils revert back to its original shape. Small and empty. “Yeah. Of course.” He plops back down onto his stiff seat, rubs his eyes, then smiles. “I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.”
-
“He—” Daniel points over to the broad twenty-six year old who sits with a timid smile. “...didn't have a single sip of beer that night because he was too focused looking after her.” A whistle. “And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”
“Wow, congrats,” George says to your fiancé. “For not being an alcoholic, really, that's impressive.” You can hear the humor that coats his voice and you can’t help but giggle. Calloused fingers slip up to pinch your thigh as you laugh harder.
“That’s why I drank twice as much that day,” Pierre announces with a firm voice. “Because he was missing out on some fantastic beer.”
“Drunkard,” Alex whispers to Lily who stifles a snicker.
The tall Australian clicks his tongue. “So who was the wasted one who confessed their little white lies?”
Everyone’s eyes turn to face you as you burn up with mortification.
“What the fuck, I barely even drink!”
-
Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)
“You.”
“Me?”
You snarl, stomping over. “She's a lightweight, dumbass. Why would you get her high? Jesus, we have a flight in eight hours.”
Daniel cackles, clapping as if delighted at the fact. “She kept insisting! I felt bad.”
An eye roll. “Douche.”
He tries to make it up to you with a drink. “Pierre says they’re good.” You eye the bottle hesitantly. He sighs. “Come on, trust me.” He eventually sneaks off for a minute, but returns with a new blunt.
“Did you pull another one out of your ass or where did you get that from?”
“Oh no. How many did you drink?”
Squinting, you motion him to take a seat. He does, but he can’t even smoke in peace now that you sway from side to side, despite being seated. “I don’t know. Too many.” He groans, large hands tugging his hair. You take a long sip, then raise your glass like some wannabe. “He told me he loves me. Tonight. Right when you left. And you know what I told him?” Another sip. “I told him I love him too.”
The Australian chuckles. “I didn’t expect you to fall for someone like him.”
“Me either. But I fell—tumbled.” You frown. “I’m just not sure this is the right thing to feel, y’know?”
His orbs flicker to the twenty-six year old who huddles with a bunch of the other drivers. He smiles, tilting his head. “Why not?”
“Because everytime I look at him, I fear the way my heart beats. He laughs, I laugh, and it feels wrong. He smiles, I smile, and it feels wrong. He makes one of our inside jokes, I understand, and it feels wrong.” A shaky laugh. “And something that should feel fucking right, doesn’t.” Glossy eyes switch over to him. “Does that make sense?”
“Not really.”
“Great,” you let out, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to understand.”
Daniel smiles, fondly, like an older brother. “It doesn’t, and you want to know why?”
“Why?”
A second passes by before he leans back against his chair. “Because it looks like you really—really—like him, so why should any of that matter? Just let yourself be happy, fuck everything else.”
You scoff, furrowing your brows. “You’re a bad influence.”
“Why?”
“Because it would never work out.”
“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” Almost robotically, he drops his blunt into your beer bottle. “You can’t…”
“Yeah. I know.” A pause. “Beer’s ass, by the way.”
-
Daniel taps his fingers against his chin, comedically. His orbs flicker between you two who stare up at him in deep focus, awaiting for his next words. He grins. “You two, it works. It always has.”
-
Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)
“Oh fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into you harder as you cling onto his arm, eyes screwed shut. “H-holy fucking—hell.”
You moan, mouth hung wide open. “Feel so good, Maxie, so, so good.”
Blue eyes admire the way you arch towards him like some sort of warm invitation. The way your legs lazily drape over his sweaty waist, how your scent hugs him like no one else. It’s all so familiar, and nice, and right. Your soft palm grazing his jaw makes him alert in an instant, desperate to not miss a single thing that lives inside this moment.
He furrows his dark brows. “We-We’re not made for one another.”
“I know.” He grunts, animalistically. “They warned me about you.”
“They told me to stay away from you.” His tip brushes against your g-spot and your head lolls back, a loud sound. “But God, it’s been impossible.”
“Max, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m close.”
He grins, rubs your clit, and whimpers when he feels you reach your orgasm. You shudder when he follows soon after, face digging into the nape of your neck. Your heart pounds like a ticking time bomb, but still, you run your fingers through his dirty blond waves.
“Lissie…Daniel…they’re—”
“Right?” You choke up. “Yeah, you don’t know how much I hate that they are.”
He pulls away, and somehow, his watercolor eyes appear more blue than ever before. Black, almost—nearly. And you’re sure yours do too.
Max plays with your hair, tracing it like a map. He gulps. “So do I.” A tug. “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”
A wet laugh. “I love you, too.” Wobbly smile. “And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”
He hums. “What would that be?”
“Nothing.”
-
“I know many of you guys are wondering why I’m best man—”
“Not wondering, more like questioning,” Carlos quips with a sly smirk.
Pierre flips him off and you laugh at the immature interaction between the drivers. “Because it really could have easily been anyone else. Ha! Even you Carlos.” The Spaniard mocks him with a shady, playful, look.
“Then again, who would have thrown a better rehearsal dinner for Charles and his bride-to-be?”
-
Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)
"You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what."
“It’s probably nothing or he’s just a sensitive little pussy,” you shoot back defensively.
Lissie snickers, hushing you, orbs scanning the pen. “You can’t say shit like that! Any of it, actually,” she adds. “Just…think before saying anything.”
You huff, arms crossed, stubbornly. “Fine.”
As the open area starts filling up more and more, by some miracle, your nerves start dying down.
Or so you thought.
“Before I let you go, I do have one more question.” Charles smiles down at you, shy dimples poking through. You return the gesture. “Would you consider yourself Ferrari’s savior or their scapegoat?”
“Jesus,” the British girl groans, covering her eyes with second-hand embarrassment.
The Monegasque lets out a nervous laugh, turning to face his publicist who simply tippy toes and whispers something into his ear. He nods. “I-I-I actually have another interview set up, but thank you for your…questions.” Pink tints his ears as he looks at you one more time before strolling away.
“Alrighty then,” Lissie hollers. She sneaks the microphone away. “Jitters, totally normal, but yeah, you’re done for today.”
-
“I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”
“Would you look at that?” Pierre gloats with a wicked grin. “Max Verstappen got butthurt.”
The Dutchman scoffs. “No, I did not. I just don’t like stupid questions, and she made one.”
Yuki snickers at his wary response. Pierre rolls his eyes. “I could talk to her, if you want me to. I love shit like this.”
“I don’t.”
“Well too bad, I’m going to.”
-
“Yeah. You already said that.”
Dumbfounded, you blink as he walks away, wet towel draped over his head. If you had known he was this much of a shithead, then you wouldn’t have bothered to try and apologize. Clicking your tongue, you burn with fury as you glare, but as soon as the Ferrari driver brushes past you, you fall back from your trance.
“Hey!”
He turns, green eyes furrowed with confusion. “Hey.”
A wince. “I’m sorry about my ignorant question from earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Charles blushes. “Am I that easy to read?”
“No, but Pierre let me know.” You awkwardly kick your shoe against the pavement and his eyes follow. You stop. “I sort of pissed off two of the most important drivers on the grid today. You, uh, just happen to be one of them.”
He softens like ice cream on a hot summer day. “I’m not pissed.” You almost let out a giggle from how foreign his accent makes the curse sound. He stammers. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. Plus, I can’t answer questions like those. It would make all of us look bad.”
“Oh. Duh. Of course.” Now you burn up. “I should have known. And it’s no excuse, but I’m new and I’m just…figuring it out.”
His eyes crinkle as he nods. “Who was the other driver?”
You groan. “Max.”
He winces, shaking his hands, theatrically. “Yikes. Yeah, now he’s probably pissed.”
-
Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)
“Will you ever let it go?”
“Might take me a while…”
As soon as your phone dings, vibrating against your palm, he curls a brow. “L-Lissie,” you fill in with a subtle smile. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”
Rushing back to the pool with a new bottle of SPF, you grin as he aims a deadpan expression. “A little Vitamin D is always necessary.”
“Don’t care, I don’t want to look like a peanut in two years.” You plop some onto his hand as he childishly swipes it over his face. You squirm with the way droplets slither down his toned chest.
Charles extends his hands. “Can I have some more?”
You laugh, wet hair tossing back like a curtain. “Hypocrite.”
Green eyes glare down, playfully.
-
Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)
“I can’t believe someone’s rocking your boat,” Lissie yelps, clutching onto your hand desperately. “This is monumental.” A teasing giggle. “We should definitely document this.”
As soon as she pulls out her phone, you flip her off. “And this, my dear, dear friend, is why I’ve been keeping this a secret.” She zooms in as you laugh, brushing her away. “Quit!”
The British girl groans, slipping it into her back pocket, then wiggles her thick brows. “Can I guess who it is?”
“No.”
“It’ll be fun!”
You spin around. “No, Lissie—no.”
“Nepo-Baby?”
Flustered, you twirl your necklace and hum. “They all are.”
“Fucking hell. So how will I know which one?”
A mocking laugh. “Oh, you’ll know.”
The brunette stays wondering despite being in the middle of telling her story from last week at the pub. She traces back to every possible driver, but they’re all natural flirts, so fuck that, how would she ever even be able to guess that—
“Oh my—it’s him!” She gasps with hawk eyes as she watches you two keep a careful distance from one another, as if temptation burns within the gap. Lissie lets out a delirious laugh as she turns to Will, who is still rather focused on his task. “I, um, will be right back!”
Wearing a goofy smile, you make your way back to the pen, but squeal when a firm grip wraps around your waist, tugging you into a cramped bathroom. You cringe at the suffocated smell. On the other hand, Lissie jumps from corner to corner. “How did I not notice? I mean, shit, you’re eyes—they’re huge!”
You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
With a toothy grin, she pokes your ribs. “It means I know who it is.”
Your heart stops, then bite the inside of your cheek, feigning indifference. “We’re just getting to know each other, but he’s really kind, and I…I really like him.”
“Oh, I bet you do,” she whispers in a seductive manner, jeweled hands slapping your ass. You chuckle, opening the door, and turning back. “You get lost in his eyes, don’t you? Heard that could happen.” A swoon. “So what? Are they like the ocean? Like a blueberry Laffy Taffy?”
“Hm. No. More like green apple.”
She halts, mid-shimmy. “What do you mean green? His eyes are blue. And I would know—they scare me half of the time.”
“What are you talking about? Charles’ eyes are green.” The brunette gapes, mouth hung wide open as she pushes herself to speak, but can’t find the strength. You knit your brows, neat and high. “I told you not to scroll through your phone at three a.m. anymore. See? Jet lag is catching up to you.”
-
Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)
“I’m just looking out for you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Tired eyes squint over at the blue waves, then at the kids who build sandcastles.
She sighs, propping herself to face you with a sorrowful smile. “It’s okay to be confused about your feelings.”
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, I know its as bad as it sounds.” You raise your straw onto your plump lips, sucking. “But they’re just so different from one another. I mean, Charles makes me feel giddy. Like really giddy. It’s nauseating. He’s sweet, and caring, and he's snappy but it’s endearing.” A soft smile and dreamy eyes. “He even helps with my notes.”
“But Max…he’s hot tempered. It drives me nuts. He never asks for help and always hides behind some brick wall. It isn’t like him to show me that he’s interested in getting to know me, but…” Cries ring through the hot air as a wave washes the sandcastle. “I want to get to know him. The real him.”
Lissie’s lips turn downwards at your broken tone. You act uninterested, but she knows it just for show, and that might be the worst torture of all.
She bumps your head with her shoulder, softly, and you instantly pout. “You’ll know what to do, babe. But if we’re being realistic here, Charles won’t wait forever.” Pause. “And Max isn’t the kind to grovel for anything other than podiums.”
-
Bahrain International Circuit—March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)
“Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”
Charles lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as he strolls away. You pick and choose emails to respond to before leaning against one leg, typing away fiercely. You even have time to get back to your sister who begs for a souvenir. Any, she adds with a thousand smiley faces.
“Working hard already? The season’s barely begun.” Your breath catches so sharply that it hurts your throat for a second. His voice is somehow deeper, but it could be because you haven’t seen or heard from him in about forever. Max steps closer. “H-how was your summer break?”
Your berry lips open, then close, then repeat. It’s embarrassing. “Never bad to get ahead, and I—had a good one. Much needed.” He nods attentively. “You look—” You stop before admitting. “Healthy. You look really healthy”
A booming chuckle. “Thanks. You look really healthy, too.”
Blue eyes linger for a second too long and that fills you up with unwanted adrenaline. “Why are you here?” Pink expands through your cheekbones as you grimace. “I mean—here.” You point at the tiny tent as if it weren’t obvious what you were referring to. “Here, here.”
The Dutchman’s lips dance, fondly. “Well I was walking by, saw you, and wanted to say hi.” He looks around with a subtle frown. “Is now a bad time?”
“Well—”
“Mate,” a sweet accent rings through the air as you screw your eyes shut. Max turns to face Charles with a slow grin. The Monegasque tilts his head in greeting, hands occupied with your beverage and his. “How have you been?”
“So, so. Yourself?”
“Good. Refreshed.”
“For me?” he jokes. The brunette chuckles, raising the coffee cups with bright orbs. “Lazy Carlos, always sending you, right?”
The Ferrari driver shakes his head, curls following, then hands it to you. You hesitantly take it from him as you avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Charles.”
His smile widens, pecking your lips. “Still don’t think you should drink it on a daily basis, but hey, you’re welcome.”
Max blinks. “W-when did this happen?”
The green eyed boy hums, lips twisting against his straw. “Over break.”
“Oh.” Gaze slips over to where you bite your cheek. “You spent it in Monaco?”
A harsh tick. “Yes.” With an open mouth, he nods, like a muppet. You purse your lips, facing your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Do you want to start making your way over? I don’t want Carlos to say anything about being late. You know how he is.”
Charles snickers, then intertwines his fingers through yours. “See you on track?”
The RedBull driver released a low breath, cracking a smile that looked more like a snarl. And while Charles doesn’t notice it, you do. Of course you do.
“See you on track.”
-
Miami International Autodrome—May 7, 2023
“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. The judgment and confusion that radiates off of Lissie is enough for you to grow gray. She rolls her tongue. “You can’t be doing stuff like this anymore, you have a boyfriend.” Her eyes screw shut, then snap open. “He adores the ground you walk on, are you insane?”
Tears well up at her truthful words. They sting all at once, and you carelessly crumble as your numb lips start to wobble. “Lissie—”
“No. Just—stop. Stop talking.” Max raises his eyebrows at the journalist and her sternness, but feels bad as you inch back, heels clicking. She huffs, pacing the hall. When she comes to a stop, she glares at the Dutchman. “How could you do this, too?”
“I never meant any harm—”
“Bullshit! Both of you are so stupid, it’s worrisome.” Shame fills your veins as you look down, pinching your undergarment as some coping mechanism. The British girl sighs. “You have to tell him.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no? He deserves to know.”
Decreasing the gap between you two, you sniffle, shaky hands clutching harder. “It’s going to kill him, Lissie. I can’t do that.”
And you can tell she’s running through her options because she’s your best friend. And above all, you were hers. With hesitance, she nods. “This has to end.”
You nod, desperately. “That’s it. We’re done.”
-
Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)
“You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be Charles that’s making you feel that way?”
“No. Don’t even try and blame it on him.”
He pinches your nipple, then licks your humid skin. You whine at the sensation. “You’re not getting anything in return for lying. It’s pathetic.”
You hiss when your climax tempts to fall. “What's the lie?”
“That you love him.”
“I do love him—”
He groans into your neck. “You sound so pretty.” A sloppy thrust. “When you choke around my cock, my spit, my cum.” Your eyes roll back when he pushes against your g-spot at a different angle. “Admit it, you’ve always enjoyed it.”
“You’re sick."
“Maybe, but you’re well worth it.”
You clench around his length and he hisses like a snake. In pain. In lust. Doesn’t matter. “You’re a shitty friend—”
Jaw clenches. “You’re a shitty girlfriend.” When you cry out in pleasure, he smirks. “Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”
“Maybe, but who cares?”
And there's nothing left for him to do, simply smiling down at you like the Cheshire Cat, somehow scarier than The Joker. If not more.
-
Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)
“Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie. Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.” Daniel grimaces. “She’s taken.”
“I know,” Max stutters. “Who do you take me for?”
The Australian is easy to tell when he laughs genuinely, but even the RedBull driver can spot the difference to the one exiting his mouth right now. “You think she’s pretty—that’s all.”
“That’s all,” he confirms.
“And that’s not a weird thing to admit because she is a pretty girl,” the brunette tries to help as Max nods happily.
“Exactly.” A pause. “You get it.”
Daniel brings the blunt up to his mouth, taking a hit, then blows out. “Y-yeah…because it’d be bad if you liked her, liked her.”
“I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” His heart pounds fast against his ribs when you giggle, pecking Charles’s neck, all while conversing with Lissie, Kika, and Pierre. He directs his attention back to the Australian and lets out a raw laugh.
“I wouldn’t be that stupid.”
-
“You’re a bad influence.”
“Why?”
“Because it would never work out.”
“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” In an instant, his brown eyes follow yours, and it makes his heart drop. Because it’s not Charles that you’ve suddenly realized that you love, but Max. “You can’t…” Somewhere close by, Pierre yells, cheering with a group of older ladies as Kika glares, shaking her head. He inches closer. “You can’t do that to Charles. He loves you.”
“And I love him,” you announce, brushing your hair back. Timidly, you peek over at him. “I’m not a saint, I know that, but I would appreciate it if we kept this between us.” A sore chuckle. “W-what matters is that I choose Charles. He’s the love of my life.”
And Daniel knows he probably shouldn’t agree to any of this, and yet, he finds himself nodding, curls bouncing. “Just between us.”
You smile gently, going in for another sip before laughing at the blunt that sticks inside.
“Beer’s ass, by the way.”
-
Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)
“I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”
“I love you, too. And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”
“What would that be?”
“Nothing.”
He flinches. “I-it doesn’t have to be that way. You could lea—”
You sigh, pulling your dress up as he zip his race suit. “I can’t leave him, Max. It’s not that easy.”
He pants, blue eyes tracing your face anxiously. “A-and why not? Why can’t it be that easy?”
A cruel laugh wiggles up your throat as you dig your nails into your palm. “Because I’m engaged!”
He ricochets with a scoff. “Oh, what? Now you suddenly care about not being called a cheater?” You look away and he chuckles. “Because that’s what you are—a fucking cheater.”
Your face patches into a shade of pink as you breathe heavily, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what does that make you?”
“I am not a cheater.”
You snarl. “No, but you’re a God awful friend.”
He steps back, large hand running against his lips, drying them out, getting rid of your saliva. “You’re just—you know what? Fuck you.”
You gasp. “No. Fuck you.”
Max rolls his blue eyes, finally reaching his breaking point as he pushes you against the wall to his motorhome. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of realizing what we actually are.”
Heavy pants. Orbs flicker down to his rosy lips. He almost smiles. “What are we? A cheater and a bad friend?”
“No. A villain and their accomplice.” That seems to do it. A strong tide takes over as you sob against his grip. And it doesn’t hurt, it’s not tight. It’s only secure. He continues with a dark look swirling his orbs. “You know, you were always the first one to point out someone as a bad person, when in reality, it's you.”
“Okay, stop—”
“And I’m not innocent either—I’m well aware—but I’m not the one with a ring around their finger.”
“Stop!” you yell, pushing him away harshly. It should feel foreign, the fury and the shame, but that’s all you seem to know these days. Or ever since you met him. “You’re right. We’re two rotten apples, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but can you blame me? You’re fucking with my head, Max!”
He softens, and for a moment, its pure silence, other than your tiny cries. Licking his lips, he pats his thigh. “You already know I’m wrongfully in love with you. I just actually thought I stood a chance. That it would be me.”
“Max…”
He winces in pain with how sweet your voice sounds pronouncing his name. It’s always been that way. When you first interviewed him a year ago, to when you first kissed him back and gasped his name. But it only got dirtier and dirtier throughout the course of time.
“Be honest with me, please.” Bloodshot eyes look up at him. “Is he your safest option? Is that what this is?”
And with one final, tormented look, you open your lips to breathe out.
“He’s someone I could envision a future with, Max.” A beat. “And you’re just a footnote.”
-
“Voilá!” Charles cheers as he claps loudly against your ear. You yelp at the sudden sound all while trying to reach for his hands to stop his movements. He grins, deep dimples imprinting like feet on sand. “That was beautiful, really, it really was.”
Rubbing your ass against his bulge is the only way you think you can get him to shut up, and he does, immediately letting out a strained chuckle. Smiling sweetly at your friends, you shrug. “I had my doubts, Pierre, but this was pretty cute. Thank you.”
The Frenchman gloats, clicking his fingers. I told you, I told you they’d like it! Your fiancé kisses your cheek. “That’s why I chose him.” A playful frown. “You see, mon amour? You never hold any faith in my decisions.”
Rolling your eyes, you stick your pink tongue out at him. “I still think you should have chosen one of your brothers.” A stern look. “Like Lorenzo—wasn’t he the one that helped you buy the ring?”
“Yes, but that would have been unfair to Arthur. He would’ve felt left out.”
“Arthur’s too distracted trying to figure out the difference between left and right!” The Monegasque tosses his head back and you admire with a soft glow. “I lo—”
“Wait,” Carlos hollers, deep accent ringing. You and Charles turn, bubble bursting. “We all went around sharing but Max.”
“Yeah,” Lily ponders, fingers tracing her lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Pierre hums. “Mate?”
Max blinks, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s alright. We’ve heard enough, don’t you think?” His joke is meant to be easy going, but it comes out dry, and even to this day, you can notice it. Licking your already glossed lips, you flip your gaze to Lissie and Daniel who share the same worried expression.
Because Lissie was your best friend. She would carry your secret to the grave.
Because Daniel was Max’s best friend. He would carry his secret to the grave.
But the Dutchman himself didn't care. He honestly felt like he had nothing else to lose.
“Okay then,” he whispers, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. He slightly tilts his head to the open sky, as if wondering when it would swallow him whole. He was secretly hoping it would. Beady, excited, and petrified eyes stare back at him as he smiles awkwardly. “I…”
“He doesn’t want to,” you declare, twisting to signal the Frenchman. “If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”
“No.” Blue eyes darken as he places his drink down onto the wooden table. “I want y—” He bites his tongue, immediately tasting metallic. “I want to.”
“Let him,” Charles says, chuckling softly. “Don’t kill his stride.”
So, with neat brows drawn together, clammy fingers playing with your silver band, you sit back down. Like a force of nature, the Monegasque hugs you from behind. You gulp, leaning the back of your head against his shoulder.
“I think it’s crazy how one minor decision can change absolutely fucking everything.”
“Oh shit,” Lissie and Daniel mutter next to each other, exchanging the blunt back and forth.
Your face twists up like a wrinkled shirt. “If you’re not going to say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” he instantly shoots back, but feverishly deflates when Charles furrows his dark brows like some Doberman. Astonished at his cold tone, you blink, lashes fluttering like a notebook. He almost swoons at the sight, but amazingly holds back.
“If you hadn’t taken Pierre’s advice and apologized to Charles, then we wouldn't be here. If you hadn’t spent summer break with him, then we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn't fallen in love, then we wouldn’t be here.” He swallows. “It’s the little things.”
“And, um...what makes a relationship work out is the commitment. If one person commits and the other doesn’t then it won’t ever work out, but you two…” You nibble on your bottom lip harshly, holding your breath as he looks into your bright eyes. He releases a forced chuckle, as if it would help get rid of his splintered heart. “You two chose each other, so…cheers to that.”
“Wow,” Charles hums, blankly. “That was surprisingly heartfelt…” A sheepish grin. “Thank you, mate.”
It’s as if he’s suddenly admitting defeat to someone who didn’t know they had him as an opponent to begin with; the way he throws the peony at the Monegasque, who catches it with ease. “Don’t mention it.”
So, as Max sits alone, with no date, he begins to wonder that maybe—just maybe—you were right all along.
hiii i really love your blog (aesthetics and writing) easily one of my fav tumblr blogs!!! ❤️❤️
not sure if your req is open if it is can i request something along the lines of Max was married previously but his wife passed on (you can decide how) and you are now dating him but he has been wearing his wedding ring and never took it off and it always makes you sad when you see it/touch it and you can decide how it continues? maybe something like you asking him abt it but also not wanting to cross the boundaries and the journey of him realising he is in love with you and finally taking off the ring please make it really angsty
this is my first time requesting something so if this isn’t how it works/you are uncomfortable pls ignore this!! love you though!!
This time tomorrow | MV³³
☆ summary ──── She tricked herself into believing that time heals everything. And it might be true, but after endless days and nights of wondering if she’s ever going to be enough for him, she realizes that sometimes, love means stepping away until your other half is ready to meet you bare-handed.
☆ PART 2 HERE.
☆ pairing ──── Max Verstappen x she/her reader
☆ rating ──── mature
☆ category ──── F/M
☆ warnings ──── lots of angst, grief, mentions of past loss, vague description of sex, swearing, bittersweet ending.
☆ word count ──── 5.6k
☆ date ──── Mar. 23, 2025
☆ a/n ──── *insert that live of Cardi B where she says she’s going through it* I’m alive and I didn’t forget I have an inbox full of your brilliant requests. One at a time 🙏🏻😭 Also, thank you so much for your support, anon! Sorry it took a while 🤍
THE FIRST TIME Max thought about love again, it hit him like a punch in the gut. It felt like betrayal, and the guilt almost swallowed him whole. Because love wasn’t something that he believed he could ever feel again. Not after he had lost it in such brutal, unexpected way.
The accident happened on a cold autumn night. He was in Brazil, entirely focused on the only thing he had ever known how to fight for, ever since he was a kid.
Before he left, his wife had kissed him goodbye at the airport, fingers trailing lovingly along his jaw, eyes filled with quiet devotion as she pressed one last touch against his lips. There had been no hesitation at that point, no fear of tomorrow. Only the certainty that he would return to her, just as he always did.
But nothing could have prepared Max for what was to come. He couldn’t possibly know right there, in the moment, that it would be the last time he feels the warmth of her lips pressed against his or the tightness of her embrace, and the last time he hears her sweet voice calling his name.
He was scheduled to go back home the next day after the race, but the call came at an ungodly hour, waking him up from a deep sleep. At first, he thought it was his wife — maybe she’d miscalculated the time difference or maybe she just wanted to hear his voice, because she texted him earlier in the day to let him know how excited she was for him to get back. But the number on the screen wasn’t hers.
Then, everything he heard on the other line crumbled into shards of words: car accident. Drunk driver. Instant. Gone.
Her funeral was a blur, but Max still remembers how everything felt: every tiny thing that made contact with his skin, from the rain dripping down the edge of his black suit, to the way a sudden wind cut through his face, making his teary eyes water even more. He remembers staring at the coffin, afraid to blink, because he knew that when all of it was over, his life as he knew it would end.
And it did. In many ways.
He put his emotions on hold for a while, telling himself to feel nothing at all, because if he let himself even think of her, it would consume him entirely.
After that, he did what he thought was best: he ran.
Back to his car. Back to the track. Back to the only thing that gave him control when everything else had been ripped away. He channeled every ounce of grief into racing, letting the rawness of it turn him into something unrecognizable.
He made sure he wouldn’t have time to think about anything else, so he buried himself in tons of hours of training and work. The more he won, the less it hurt. At least, that’s what he told himself.
From the outside, people started to notice his determination, in spite of the tragedy he carried on his shoulders weekend after weekend. They said he was relentless, ruthless, unforgiving. An unstoppable racing machine built only for victory. But he was just suffering. They didn’t understand that winning was the only thing keeping him from collapsing under the weight of what he had loved so purely, then lost so sudden.
Then, just as suddenly, he met her.
It didn’t happen like in the movies, though. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about their beginning. No butterflies. No grand moment. No instant realization. Just a mutual friend, an introduction over drinks, and a conversation that flowed easier than Max expected. She was funny, kind and, most importantly, she didn’t look at him with pity, like everyone else did.
He liked that about her. So, they kept meeting: coffee here, dinner there, late-night conversations that never pushed past what he was willing to share. His own pace and her patience were the magical ingredients to a recipe that neither of them knew was bound to slowly ruin her.
But she never asked for more and, for a while, it was enough the way it was. Then, one night, Max finally asked her out on a real date. A step forward. A sign that the weight on his shoulders was beginning to lighten by the day. And from there, they were careful. Private. Moments stolen between race weekends, hands brushing but never quite holding, and long staring sessions that danced around the edges of his past life.
She, of course, never pushed. Never questioned the ring that never left his finger. Never asked if he would ever consider taking it off. Because she knew the answers to most of those questions. Except how long before it became too much for her?
One year, seven months, and five days.
582 mornings waking up beside him, feeling the cool weight of a symbol that didn’t represent their love.
582 nights of pretending not to notice the way Max’s thumb absently brushed over it, like muscle memory.
Thousands of stolen moments, whispered confessions, and compromises — everything but the one thing that would make her feel like she wasn’t just filling an empty space that someone else left behind. But it was okay, because Max had told her he was ready. That they were real. That he wanted her. And she believed him.
Yet, for 582 days, he still chose not to lose the one thing that proved he had already belonged to another woman before her.
It’s the 583rd day, and she wakes up just the same.
It’s too early, but she’s not sleeping that well lately. The dull morning light filters through the curtains, painting the bedroom in muted shades of gray. It is raining, and the sound soothes her as she watches the raindrops trickle down the bedroom window.
Slowly, she turns her head to where Max’s soft snoring accompanies the storm outside. His scent is soaked into every inch of the bed, sending her heart racing at the familiarity of it. An arm is stretched over his head on the pillow, and his profile looks so relaxed; Max rarely looks this peaceful and calm. He spends most of his days tense, ready for battle, always planning his next move. In bed, though, he looks younger. Softer, somehow, because the weight he always carries stays outside the sheets.
She tells herself to stop there, but her eyes fall on his other arm that’s resting on his chest. The delicate gold band is there on his finger, as it always is; a constant reminder of a life he built and is not ready to forget, even after all this time. A life she will never be able to touch, because it’s not her place to.
She swallows the lump in her throat, while tears are threatening her eyes. It shouldn’t hurt like this. They both agreed to it, and she knew what she was getting into from the start. She knew that Max wasn’t ready to let go — not then, and potentially not ever — but she told herself it didn’t matter. That time heals. That she could love him flawed, with all his jagged edges.
She does love him, although now she understands how much it matters. To her.
Every time he touches her with that hand, it burns from the inside out. It’s not the kind of fire that fuels the passion between them, but the kind that melts her bones, steals the air from her lungs, and leaves her with nothing. Every time their fingers brush and she feels it there, every time Max hands her a coffee mug, every time he lets his hand rest on her thigh absentmindedly, it’s there. And the weight of it is slowly turning her into a twisted version of Sisyphus.
She exhales silently, pressing the heel of her palm against her eyes before getting out of bed.
No crying, she tells herself. Not today. Max is leaving tomorrow, and there will be plenty of time for that when he’s gone.
The floor is cold beneath her feet as she walks into the kitchen. Since it’s so gloomy outside, she needs to turn on the lights above the stove, while moving around relentlessly. The world is barely waking up, but she is so awake, and so ready to pretend that today is just like any other day.
Mechanically, she grabs the eggs, the flour, and the milk. Then, she pulls out a bowl, and a whisk. The soft scrape of metal against ceramic is the only sound in the apartment, save for the distant hum of the refrigerator. She focuses on that, on the rhythm of her hands, the familiar motion of cracking eggs and measuring flour; it’s instinctive, the only thing in her life that she can control at the moment.
She can’t do that with her thoughts. When they come, always uninvited, they find a way to curl around her ribs and suffocate her. She whisks harder, staring down at the pale mixture as if it can distract her; it doesn’t. Nothing ever does.
She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until her vision gets blurry and she has to wipe her tears. She sniffs, angry at herself, dragging the sleeve of the shirt she’s wearing across her face once more. The fabric is delicate, too worn, and it smells like Max, making her choke on the breath she desperately tries to take in. It’s the same shirt he wore yesterday, the same one he left in a heap on the bed before pulling her against him.
The thought makes her sob.
He had been so warm, body heat sinking into her skin as he pressed himself against her, lips ghosting over her jaw, down her neck, and lower on her breasts. His hands had mapped over her body, fingertips tracing every dip and curve, every place that made her gasp in pleasure. And in between lazy movements, he had whispered everything she longed to hear. That he wanted her. That he needed her. That he loved her.
But even as his hands roamed her skin with a tenderness that made her ache, she could feel the cold weight of his ring dragging against her waist, her ribs, and the inside of her thigh like a reminder. A ghostly presence between them.
She tried to drown in him instead, in the way his breath turned ragged, in the way his body trembled when he pushed into her deeper, chasing something she wasn’t sure either of them could name because of how good it felt. His grunts forced her limbs to tighten around him, legs curling around his waist, arms clutching at his back like she could somehow pull him closer, even though there wasn’t any physical space left between them. Like if she held him tightly enough, if she let him fill every part of her, maybe then he would finally let her in completely. Maybe then, he would be hers entirely.
And, maybe then, Max would choose her.
They came together, their breaths blending in colorful moans, and even as he buried his face in her neck and held her like she was the most precious thing in his life, she felt it pressing against her skin, again and again. His past. The proof that no matter how deeply he sank into her, a fundamental part of Max was still, eternally, elsewhere.
Her walls cave in at the memory and, before she can react, the bowl slips from her hands, crashing to the floor with a loud noise, splattering the mixture across the cabinets and her legs. The sound is sharp in the quiet morning, and her breath hitches, reaching out instinctively, as if she can somehow undo the mess. But her hand touches the pan on the stove by accident, and the metal clatters, the hot oil splashing everywhere.
A sudden sting sears across her fingers, forcing her to jerk back, sucking in a breath. The quick movement sends her foot sliding over the spilled batter, making her gasp in surprise as her body meets the floor. The impact isn’t hard, but the shock of it knocks the breath from her lungs. She lands in the mess, hands catching in the sticky mixture, knees pressed into the cold floor.
For a few moments, she stays there, reconsidering her life choices.
As she’s shaking on the floor, she finally manages to understand that here and now, everything it’s all too much: the waiting, the quiet, the endless patience. She’s afraid to think forward, though, because she knows where those thoughts will lead her. And a life without Max, after all they’ve been through, is out of the question.
Isn’t it?
“Shit,” Max’s voice, thick with sleep, forces her to raise her head and look for him. He takes in the scene in seconds, his gaze darting from the overturned pan to the floor, then to her curled-up form in the middle of it all. His hand flies to the stove, shutting it off, then he looks at her with concern. “Are you hurt?”
Yes.
“No,” she lies, biting the inside of her cheek.
Max moves toward her, crouching low so he can be at the same level. “Lieverd,” he says, softer this time, “Please?” he asks, his eyes landing on the red burn across her skin. He exhales sharply, frowning at the image, all the sleepiness evaporating from his body. “Fuck, let me see.”
Without thinking twice, she pulls back before he can touch her. It’s a small, sudden gesture. A flinch, a breath of space between them. But Max noticess, and his hand stills midair before he slowly lowers it.
She swallows hard, pushing herself up, ignoring the sticky batter clinging to her legs, the burning sensation on her hand, and especially the way her whole body feels unsteady.
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
Max blinks, all his concern turning into confusion. “You didn’t—”
She doesn’t stop walking, stepping past him, careful not to leave more mess behind her. His hand twitches like he wants to reach for her, but she doesn’t give him the chance.
Clenching his jaw, Max watches her disappear down the hall, the bathroom door clicking shut behind her.
When she’s coming out, her gestures remain hesitant, the charged air of the apartment wrapping around her like a second skin. Her hair is still damp, strands sticking to the back of her neck as she pads barefoot toward the kitchen. There is a sweet scent that drifts through the apartment, and when she turns the corner, she sees Max standing at the stove, the mess from earlier gone as if nothing happened at all.
A fresh stack of golden pancakes sits on the counter, and a cup of tea steams beside them. Max turns when he hears her footsteps, his gaze sweeping over her, pausing for half a second longer than necessary, taking in the way her shoulders are tense, and how she hugs herself, arms wrapped around her torso. She hesitates at the threshold, eyes flicking between him and the cleaned-up space; she has no idea how long she was in the shower, crying, questioning herself, letting the hot water whip her skin just to feel something other than the ache in her chest.
Long enough, apparently, for Max to fix everything. For him to wait until she was finally ready to come out and face him.
But is she?
Slowly, the girl moves toward the table and sits down on a chair, across from Max. Droplets of water slip from the ends of her hair, dotting the wooden surface. She wipes them with the back of her hand, the small gesture giving her time to put her thoughts in order. Still, it’s not enough.
“Sorry for the mess,” she eventually breaks the silence, her voice as thin as a strand of hair. “Thank you for cleaning.”
Max doesn’t say anything at first. Just pushes the cup of tea toward her, studying her hesitation. She takes it as a quiet offering, fingers wrapping around the ceramic, but she doesn’t look at him.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Max’s voice may be soft and curious, but there’s so much weight behind it, that she notices right away.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she shakes her head, taking a sip of her tea.
Max exhales, his fingers pressing against the table with so much force that his knuckles turn white, “That’s not true, and we both know it. Let’s cut the bullshit and just talk to each other.”
Her grip tightens around the cup.
Talk. She was willing to do that in the past, so many times before. But this time around, the lines are a bit blurry, her feelings more intense than ever. She doesn’t want to say something that might offend him, so she just takes another sip from her cup, still avoiding to look at the man she loves.
“Obviously, you’re not fine,” Max continues after a moment. “I heard you crying in there, and I’m trying so hard not make up my own scenarios about what that might be.”
Her throat tightens. “Max…”
“Whatever it is, just say it,” he encourages her, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. He looks at her for a while, trying to decipher whatever is going on inside her brain, and when she keeps silent, he exhales, “Alright. Suit yourself, then. Just remember I’m here if you want to talk about it. Until tomorrow, at least.”
He’s leaving tomorrow, and they’ll have to depend on their phones to communicate again. Three weeks of wondering if all of this it’s worth it. Three weeks wishing he’d come back and resume their old routine, if only for a little while.
Max doesn’t insist any further. They end up eating breakfast in silence, then she sinks into the couch with a book on her lap, while Max feeds the cats and walks around like a headless chicken to pack his bags.
IT’S LIKE THE grey clouds outside had settled over Max’s apartment, pressing down on their shoulders. They spent their entire day like that: moving through the motions, brushing past each other, acknowledging but never adressing.
By the time they’re ready for bed, it still feels like something fragile is hanging in the air, waiting to shatter. She wipes the counter, while Max puts the dishes in their place when a sharp curse cuts through the quiet. It makes her turn just in time to see Max pulling his hand back, crimson red blooming across his fingertip.
As if she’s on autopilot, she rushes to him, her hands already reaching for his, “Who the hell grips a knife from its blade, Max?”
“I tried to catch it before it fell out of my hand,” he answers in a hoarse voice, the result of a day in which he didn’t talk much.
Max barely has time to protest before she grabs his wrist and pulls him toward the sink, shoving his hand under the cold stream of water. His blood swirls into the drain, and she fumbles for a cloth, pressing it firmly against the cut.
Her quick reaction time takes him by surprise, letting out a dry laugh as he looks down at her. At the sound, she looks up, startled, and finds Max staring, something unbearably soft in his expression.
“How long are you going to torture me?” he asks, beyond tired. His fingers curl around her wrist before she can step back. “Don’t. Talk to me, please.”
Max’s words land somewhere between her lungs, putting pressure on her chest, setting off alarm bells and sending her pulse into overdrive. She tried to avoid it the entire day, hoping that time will put her thoughts to rest. But now, as she looks into his eyes, her fight-or-flight instinct kicks in.
She exhales, staring down at his hand, her fingers hovering absently over his. “I… don’t know if I can,” she admits.
Max doesn’t push, but she can feel the weight of his gaze. She lowers hers just for a moment, eyes flickering to his left hand that’s resting on the edge of the sink. The gold band shines faintly in the dim light, glinting, sharp and cruel.
She doesn’t even realize she’s looking at it until Max moves. Fast. Almost instinctive. He pulls his hand back like it’s been scorched, fingers curling into a fist.
Her stomach twists.
His voice falters next time he speaks, “That’s what this is about?” Max exhales, rubbing a hand down his face before taking a step away from her.
She doesn’t answer, guilt and shame draping around her shoulders like a heavy blanket.
“Why didn’t you just say something?” he asks, bordering on disbelief. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me all day? Really?”
The girl laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Just exhaustion. “Say what exactly, Max?” she finally looks at him then, really looks at him. “That I wake up next to you and have to remind myself that I’m not just...” she swallows hard, understanding, on a subconscious level, that she chose to fight this time. “That I’m not just keeping your side of the bed warm?”
Max frowns, frustration flickering in his expression. “You’re not.”
“I don’t know that,” the words slip out before she can stop them, but that doesn’t make them any less real.
He turns to her, exhaling through his nose, “I love you,” says Max firmly, like he’s daring her to deny it. To challenge him. Because no matter what she tells him, Max already has the ammunition to contradict her.
But it’s not the fact that she doesn’t know it already. He says it all the time. When he’s holding her, when he’s touching her. She feels it, but it’s not enough. Love isn’t just words, but actions. It’s choices.
“Then why are you still wearing it?”
Max’s jaw tightens, his whole body locking up. The only thing that can still be heard in the silence that follows is the sound of their breaths, blending with each other.
Max closes his eyes for a second, rubbing his palm over his face like he can wipe away the conversation before it even begins. When he looks back at her, she can see something defensive behind his eyes that leaves her breathless.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” he admits, more to himself than to her.
She scoffs, throwing the wet cloth with more force than necessary. “You can’t believe it?” her voice wavers, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. “Max, do you have any idea how exhausting it is to pretend this doesn’t bother me? I feel so stupid for—”
Max shakes his head, pointing a finger at her chest, interrupting her, “It’s not about you.”
“I know!” she snaps, “But you keep acting like this is just about you, about your grief, and your past. What about us? Where are we in this scenario?”
“You think I don’t care about us?” he sounds almost defeated, his breathing calming for a moment.
She shrugs, “I think you don’t know what to do with us,” her voice softens too, but the hurt is still there, and Max can sense it. “I think you love me in a way that doesn’t ask you to let go of anything,” she finally says it out loud. “I don’t get that luxury, Max. I’m trying to build a life with you, but it looks like yours ended with that accident, and now you’re not quite here… anymore.”
Max lets out a sharp breath, trying his best to keep the calmness from earlier. “This isn’t fair, you know.”
She nods, “No, it is not.”
“I never asked you to wait for me,” he reminds her. “And I didn’t make you any promises.”
His affirmation hits her with the force of a slap, her shoulders dropping from the weight of his words, “Are you serious?” she asks in disbelief, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Alright. You never asked me to wait, but you let me wait. You didn’t put an end to it at any stage, and now,” her voice trails, moving her eyes from him to anywhere else, just to avoid that cloudy blue that still haunts her dreams.
Max looks away too, his jaw clenched.
“I have been patient,” she finds the strength to continue, even though her voice is trembling. “I have given you space, time, everything. I never once asked you to forget her. I’ll never ask you to forget her,” she says in an accusing tone, as if he didn’t already know that. “I just want to know that I’m not waiting for something that is never going to happen.”
His head snaps back toward her, eyes narrowing. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
Her smile is sad, and her eyes are flooding with tears when she looks at him again. “It means I don’t think you’ll ever take it off.”
The honesty in her voice makes Max flinch. And, for the first time since they started this, she finally sees something crack in him. Something he thought was gone, something he’s tried to bury ever since he buried his wife.
“You think it’s that simple?” Max’s voice is so low she can barely hear him. “You think I can just wake up one day and—” he stops in time, pressing a palm to his chest. “It’s not a switch, okay? It’s not like I can just decide it and suddenly everything is fine.”
She takes a step further, closing the space he put between them earlier. “No. I don’t think it’s simple. That’s why I couldn’t just come and tell you. And I don’t expect you to be fine. But waking up every day, wondering if I’m enough for you, if I’ll ever be enough, is just as hard. I’m not fine, either.”
The same hand he brought to his chest is now slamming on the counter, making her wince. “You are enough.”
“If you say so,” she hates how vulnerable she sounds, how small she feels under his gaze. “I am not made of stone. And it breaks me every single time I look at it. Because I feel for you, love. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I feel sorry for you. For what happened to you,” she rushes to wipe away her tears before others appear, uninvited. “I want to be here for you, I tried to. But at the same time, I want you to see me, because I’m here now, Max. I am not some ghost of the past. I am here, now,” she repeats, “Can you see me or not?”
The fact that she has to ask him this question to prove to herself that their relationship is at the end is tearing her apart from the inside. Belatedly, she realizes how much she begged for things to find a normality of their own. With his loaded schedule, his name in everyone’s mouths, and his past, it was obvious from the beginning that this was not going to happen.
Still, she had hope.
Max presses his lips together, his body wound tight like a coil about to snap. He doesn’t have an answer. Not one that will make her feel better.
She is the one that backs up now. Her chest is tight, the air in the room too suffocating. She needs to move, to get away before she says something else she’ll regret, and before she falls apart completely in front of him.
But as soon as she turns, Max moves too.
“Stop walking out on me,” he raises his voice.
She freezes for half a second before shaking her head. “I’m done with all this.”
“Yeah, you’re done?” he follows, trying to close the distance between them again, his frustration boiling over. “Then look at me and say it! Fucking stop running away like I’m some monster who trapped you.”
She whirls around so fast at his words, Max almost collides with her.
“What?” her voice shakes with heartbreak. “You think I’m running away? I have stayed. Willingly. Every day, and every night. I have stayed, even when I felt like I was drowning in everything you wouldn’t say. I have stayed even when I wasn’t sure if you actually wanted me to. So don’t you dare act like I’m the one running.”
His breathing is ragged, “Then stop making me feel like I have to choose.”
She lets out breathless laugh. “You do have to choose! And I think we both know you already have. Haven’t you?”
His hands curl into fists at his sides, his body practically vibrating with frustration. Not just at her, but at himself, at his own mind, and his own heart that won’t let go.
But that’s a lie, isn’t it?
Because she’s right. He already made a decision — when he let her in, when he kissed her for the first time, when he whispered against her lips that she felt like home. He made it when he touched her, held her, made love to her like he was starving for something only she could give. When he asked her to move in together. When he fell asleep with his arms around her instead of an empty bed. And yet, some part of him has been holding on.
Max knows what it’s like to lose. To have something ripped away so violently left a hollow space in his chest that nothing can ever quite fill. However, the thought of going through that again reminds him that his heart is still functioning. It’s still beating, still loving, still terrified of losing.
“Please,” Max’s voice is quieter. It isn’t an order. Not a demand. Just a plea.
The sound of it is gut wrenching, so she stops.
Carefully, he reaches for her. His fingers brush against her wrist, hesitant at first, before he finally grips her hand. Her body is tense, but she doesn’t pull away. She’s always craving his touch, and this — this is all she ever wanted. Him.
Max takes a slow breath in, encouraged by the fact that he managed to win a few more minutes in her presence. His fingers tighten around hers, not enough to hold her there, just enough to let her know he’s present, that he is finally choosing. This moment. Her.
With aching slowness, he lifts his left hand in front of them. The ring looks like it’s almost smiling back at her, making her throat bob as she swallows. She can’t look at it — won’t look at it. She won’t get caught up in one of his twisted games again, because she has finally found her limit.
Max feels the way her fingers twitch in his, like she’s about to let go, but he doesn’t let her. Instead, his grip shifts, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
She doesn’t.
“Baby, please,” he’s now begging, aware that he has only one chance to get it right.
Haunted by the sound of his voice, her lashes flutter open, eyes locking onto his for the briefest moment before flickering back to his damn hand. It makes Max’s heart tighten at the way she looks at it, not with jealousy or resentment, but with something so, so deeply painful, it nearly crushes him.
“I’m not wearing it because I don’t want to forget her,” he finally forces himself to say the words he’s never admitted out loud. “I wear it because it punishes me.”
She frowns, confusion making its way through the pain in her eyes.
“It reminds me of what happens when I don’t prioritize the things that matter most. When I take something for granted and assume there will always be more time,” his voice shakes as he looks at her, desperate to make her understand. “I swore to protect her, and I wasn’t there. I should have been there.”
She inhales, her grip tightening instinctively around his hand, as if she could pull him out of the misery in which he is so deeply immersed.
Max shakes his head again, a bitter laugh slipping from his lips. “It’s not love that keeps it on my finger, baby. It’s guilt.”
After that, silence stretches between them, thick and unclear. Max can’t move and doesn’t breathe, as if saying the truth out loud has taken everything out of him.
She stares at his beautiful, sad face, her heart aching for him, for all the ways he’s been carrying this grief, dragging it through every day. But she understands, finally, that she can’t be the one to make it go away.
No matter how hard it is, it’s his responsibility to work on healing himself.
Nodding, her fingers loosen from his hand, slipping away slowly.
“You know where to find me,” she says softly. “Whenever you’re ready… come find me,” she pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I won’t need anything else, Max,” she adds, her lips barely forming the words. “Just you. Bare-handed.”
A shadow passes over his face, panic decorating Max’s face when he processes the meaning of her words. His mouth parts like he wants to speak, but nothing comes out.
With tears running down her face, she steps forward one last time, rising onto her toes, pressing a tiny kiss to his cheek and, when she pulls away, she doesn’t say goodbye. She just lets her thumb graze the edge of his wedding ring with intention for the firs time, just this once, before she kisses his knuckles, too.
None of them knew yesterday that this time tomorrow, they’ll be on different paths. But both of them know now that love isn’t just about holding on. It’s also about knowing when to let go.
“I’m sorry.”
She forces a smile before dropping his hand, “Put a band-aid on it. It will heal faster.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
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⠀⠀⠀ ⠀LESTAPPEN AS YOUR BOYFRIENDS 𓂃 ໑ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀max verstappen 𝒙 gn!reader 𝒙 charles leclerc
𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐀'𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝜗ৎ — fluff headcanons + slightly angsty and suggestive content. Max and Charles are bi, this’s to adapt the fic to any type of reader. The reader’s genitals, gender, pronouns, appearance or sexuality are not mentioned. Dom!Max, Sub!Charles. Sub!Reader. English is not my first language, so there may be grammatical errors. Enjoy :)
𝜗ৎ ⠀ AT FIRST, YOU DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD WORK. You had never been one for throuples. Three-person relationships had always left a bad taste in your mouth; you either ended up as the third wheel or left out entirely. Maybe that’s why you thought this would be a bad idea too.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ But Max and Charles had made an effort from the start to make one thing very clear: the three of you were on equal footing. Each had their favorites, that was obvious, but you had also learned to love and respect each other equally, to function as a single unit. You couldn’t deny your weakness for Max, the same weakness he felt for Charles, and that Charles, in turn, felt for you. It was a cycle. A little puzzle in which all three pieces fit perfectly.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ Charles and you were pure chaos, the ones who brought the fun, the youthful, free energy. Max, on the other hand, was more serious, more reserved. He always ended up taking care of both of you, with that protective, steady air that made him the voice of reason. What he said, you two did.. And you couldn’t deny that this side of him gave both you and the Monegasque goosebumps, especially when you pulled a prank and he decided not to speak to you for a couple of hours.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ In your relationship, there was nothing that a few sweet kisses and a couple of hugs couldn’t fix. When Max got upset, he crossed his arms on the sofa, grabbed his phone, and ignored you both for the rest of the afternoon. Then Charles and you would sit on either side of him, one on each of his thighs, planting soft, playful kisses on his neck, jawline, and ears, just enough for Max to roll his eyes and end up forgiving you, wrapping you both in a hug.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ Things were very different at races than at home. Throuples weren’t well regarded, and even less so the fact that two drivers were openly bisexual. That’s why publicly you were in a relationship with Charles, while Max maintained the image of a coveted bachelor. It went without saying that the Dutchman wouldn’t even look at anyone trying to flirt with him for more than two seconds, but it was also true that keeping the relationship secret was sometimes painful.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ He hated many things, but not being able to kiss or hug you two after a good race was, without a doubt, what hurt the most. You couldn’t even look at him for more than two seconds when talking in the paddock, just to avoid speculation. And yet, even with a camera pointing at you, when both knew you couldn’t show affection because the next day it would be in every sports outlet, it made you want to cry. You just wanted to kiss him and tell him how much you loved him. But then, as always, Max would take a risk, sliding a hand under the counter, where no one could see, and intertwining his warm fingers with yours. That simple gesture was enough to remind you he was there, with you, and his touch seemed to whisper, “I’m here, liefde.”
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ Still, being at home was also your safe place, your stronghold, your refuge, the only place where the three of you could truly be yourselves, without restrictions. Where Charles could act needy for attention, and Max would tease him, holding him by the waist while you covered his face with kisses.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ In your free time, the three of you liked watching movies, playing video or board games, helping Charles with a new song, enduring Max humiliating you and Charles on simulators, having sex occasionally, or just lazing on the sofa with the fan blowing on your faces.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ Charles and you always found a comfortable spot on Max’s chest. The blond would hold you close to his warm body, letting you hide your heads in his broad chest or in the nape of his neck. Breathing in his masculine scent gave an immediate sense of safety. Both of you would trace his arms or abdomen with your fingers. Charles, with his impeccable French accent, would comment, “We should stop racing and just chill like this forever.” And you both laughed, even though you knew he could never give up speed for anything in the world.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ Everyone had your own way of showing love. Charles was more about physical affection and words; Max, about acts of service and quality time. And in fact, it worked because each brought something that made the relationship flow naturally. You loved it when Charles kissed you and whispered sweet words in French, like “Je t’aime tellement, mon amour,” or when Max solved one of your problems and stayed to spend time with you watching your favorite movie. In the end, you realized that even though you had been unlucky with throuples before, here everything fit perfectly.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ You could fight. You were in a relationship with two extremely competitive men, and Max was by far the most stubborn of the three. He had a hard time compromising on things that didn’t align with his ideals, and taking the blame wasn’t exactly his strong suit, but he tried, like everyone else.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ “Look, I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with.” And before Charles could say anything, he interrupted, “Shut up, Charles. Let me finish. But… I love you guys, and you know I hate fighting with you.”
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ And when all the words had been said, you and the Monegasque welcomed your boyfriend into your arms. Maybe it was at that very moment, with Max trapped like a sandwich between your bodies, that he realized the apartment, though everyone could feel free there, wasn’t really his safe place, his stronghold. His true refuge was being between your arms, surrounded by two pairs of arms, with his head nestled in the crook of your neck, while Charles left a kiss on his cheek and along his jawline.
⠀𝜗ৎ ⠀ “We love you, mon amour,” Charles murmured between kisses. Max took a deep breath, sinking even deeper into your arms. “I think I love you both even more.”
requests are open yeyy! can i request a smau and written fic with mv3 x younger! reader (maybe 2004) where they got together a year after kelly broke up with max? and reader is actually a famous singer (like addison rae type)
thank youuu
Untouched, XO - MV3
served with: max verstappen x fem!young-gf!reader
chef's note: in the world of F1, everyone has an opinion. They had opinions when Max and Kelly called it quits, and they had even louder ones when he started showing up to the paddock with Y/N—the twenty-one-year-old pop sensation. Falling in love was the easy part. The hard part is navigating the 2:00 AM Twitter threads, the "downgrade" comparisons, and a world champion boyfriend who thinks "protecting" you means keeping you quiet.
The paddock always felt like a place you weren’t meant to enjoy. It was too loud, too fast, and filled with too many people acting like a car going in circles was the pinnacle of human achievement.
You adjusted your sunglasses, leaning closer to your manager as the humidity began to mess with your blowout.
“Be honest—if I ‘accidentally’ get lost and end up back at the hotel, how bad would it be?”
“Catastrophic,” she replied, her eyes glued to her phone. “You’re headlining the post-race concert tonight. Try to look like you’re having the time of your life.”
You hummed, unconvinced, watching a camera crew scurry past. A collective hush fell over the nearby crowd, followed by a wave of frantic whispers. It was the kind of energy usually reserved for a surprise drop or a red carpet entrance.
“That’s him,” your manager muttered, finally looking up.
You followed her gaze, uninterested. “Which one? There are fifty guys in matching polos.”
“The World Champion. Max Verstappen.”
He didn’t look like what you expected. There was no dramatic entrance, no ego-flaring energy. He was just… quiet. Hands tucked into his pockets, expression unreadable, walking with a focused stride that suggested he’d rather be anywhere else.
You shrugged, turning back toward the hospitality suite. “The Dutch guy?”
Max heard it. The words were tossed over your shoulder like a piece of confetti—light, colorful, and entirely dismissive.
He slowed his pace, just for a fraction of a second, catching a glimpse of you walking away. You didn’t look back. There was no double-take, no flash of recognition, and absolutely zero interest.
It was a refreshing, if slightly jarring, change of pace.
Later, a PR representative insisted on a formal introduction. It was the "famous singer meets famous driver" photo-op that everyone but the two of you seemed to want.
You offered a polite, practiced smile, your hand feeling small and warm in his when you shook it.
“Hi,” you said, your voice airy and calm. “I think I’m supposed to know exactly who you are. My apologies.”
Max blinked, his blue eyes searching yours for a hint of sarcasm. He didn’t find any. “That would usually help the conversation, yeah.”
You tilted your head, studying the sharp lines of his face like he was a puzzle you weren’t quite sure was worth solving. “They said you’re the best at this?”
A beat of silence passed. Max gave a small, almost shy shrug. “...Sometimes.”
You nodded, accepting that as if it were a perfectly mundane answer. Your eyes drifted toward the garage behind him, where millions of dollars of machinery sat in pieces. “They all look the same, honestly. Does it matter which one you pick?”
Max huffed a quiet laugh before he could catch himself. It wasn't his usual media-trained chuckle; it was genuine. “It matters a little bit, yes.”
You didn’t ask for a picture. You didn’t linger to talk about his stats. You didn’t even try to keep the conversation going once the silence grew thin.
“Well, good luck, I guess,” you added, already stepping back and checking your watch. “Drive safe, or whatever.”
Max watched you leave. Again.
“She just dismissed you,” Lando said, appearing at his side with a grin that was far too wide. “Completely blew you off.”
“I noticed.”
“Called you ‘the Dutch guy’ earlier, too. I heard her.”
Max exhaled, but it wasn't the sigh of someone who was annoyed. His gaze stayed fixed on the spot where you’d disappeared into the crowd. “I’m not thinking about it,” Max said, preempting the comment.
“You definitely are.”
Max didn't answer.
But later that night—when your voice carried over the circuit, clear and effortless, amplified by a thousand speakers—Max stopped mid-sentence in the middle of a technical debrief. He looked up at the monitors, watching you command a stage of thousands with the same casual indifference you'd shown him.
And for the first time all weekend, he wasn't thinking about his lap times. He was paying attention.
-
ynuser
liked by friend1, friend2, f1 and others
ynuser sang, danced, almost passed out from the heat… and apparently met “the dutch guy” 🏁 idk what’s going on but it was fun
friend1 NOT “THE DUTCH GUY” 💀
friend2 girl that’s literally THE max verstappen
user1 THE LAST PIC???? HELLO????
user2 excuse me why is max in her photo dump 😭
user3 max smiling like that??? oh this is serious (it’s been 5 minutes)
user4 new crossover just dropped???
charles_leclerc nice performance 👍
user1 CHARLES WHAT DO YOU KNOW
user5 she said “the dutch guy” like he’s a random man at starbucks 😭
user6 coming back to this when they’re dating btw
ynuser guys relax he was nice 😭
- weeks after
replies:
a - username ain’t no way 😭
b - username HE DOESN’T GO OUT LIKE THIS???
c - username why does he look… soft
d - username that’s literally him I’m sick
-
tiktok
clip: you in your bathroom, phone propped up on the counter. Lipsyncing a love song, you turn to grab something and—in the mirror—there’s a figure behind you. Sitting on the counter, cap low. Scrolling his phone like he doesn’t even realize he’s in frame.
comments:
user1 UM???? PAUSE??? BACKGROUND???
user2 WHO IS THAT MAN
user3 GIRL IS THAT THE DUTCH GUY
user4 he’s just… there. like a side quest character 😭
user5 this is the most accidental hard launch ever
-
-
The studio was stifling.
It was a chaotic mix of expensive equipment, half-empty energy drinks, and a vibrating energy that usually made you feel alive. Today, though, the air felt heavy. You were in the middle of a playback, leaning over a mixing board with Julian, the artist you were collaborating with.
He said something—a dumb joke about a missed note—and you erupted into a laugh, your hand instinctively resting on his forearm for balance. It was the "industry" version of you: warm, accessible, effortlessly charming.
“Okay, okay—run it back from the second verse,” Julian said, grinning back at you.
You nodded, sweeping your hair over your shoulder as you stepped toward the vocal booth. But your eyes drifted to the corner of the room.
Max hadn’t moved in an hour.
He was leaning against the soundproof foam wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his Red Bull cap pulled low. He was a silent spectator, watching the scene with the same terrifying focus he usually reserved for a telemetry screen.
You caught his eye and flashed him a quick, bright grin.
He didn't smile back. He just gave a singular, slow nod—the kind that meant he’d seen exactly what he needed to see.
“Five-minute break?” the producer called out.
You pulled your headphones off, the silence of the booth ringing in your ears. You walked straight toward Max, trying to shake off the sudden chill.
“Hey,” you said, stepping into his space. “You’ve been so quiet. What do you think of the track?”
Max shrugged, his eyes finally lifting from the floor to your face. “It’s good. Very catchy.”
“‘Catchy’?” you teased, poking his arm. “I just spent three hours bleeding my soul into that mic and you give me ‘catchy’?”
“It’s your world,” he said simply, his voice flat. “You know if it’s good. You don't need me to tell you.”
You squinted at him, the playful mood dying. “You’re being weird, Max.”
“I’m not.”
He pushed off the wall, bypassing you to grab his water bottle. He didn't look back.
It was nearly 1:00 AM by the time the elevator dinged on your floor. The silence of the hotel hallway felt like a relief after the roar of the studio.
You kicked your heels off the moment you crossed the threshold of the suite, tossing your bag onto the sofa. “Julian is actually a genius,” you said, still trying to bridge the gap between you. “The way he writes melodies on the fly… it’s actually insane. I think this might be a Top 10 hit.”
“You laugh like that with everyone?” The question was so soft you almost missed it.
You froze, your jacket halfway off your shoulders. You turned slowly. Max was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of the city casting sharp shadows across his face. He looked like he regretted the words the moment they left his mouth.
“…What?”
“When you’re working,” he clarified, his jaw tight. “Is that just… the standard? The touching, the laughing at things that aren't funny. Is that how it works?”
You stared at him, the realization hitting you like a physical weight. You walked closer, stopping just a few feet away.
“Are you jealous, Max?” you asked. You didn't mean it as a taunt; you were genuinely floored.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re the World Champion,” you whispered, taking another step. “You’re the most confident person I’ve ever met. You really think I’m looking at anyone else in a room you’re standing in?”
He exhaled a harsh, jagged breath, his eyes finally snapping to yours.
“It’s different, seeing it,” he admitted, his voice dropping an octave. “I spend my life in a car where everything is logic and data. Then I watch you… and you’re so easy with people. You give them so much of yourself.”
He reached out, his fingers catching your wrist and pulling you into his space. His grip wasn't tight, but it was possessive.
“I know it’s work,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips and then back to your eyes. “Doesn’t mean I have to like watching them think they have a chance.”
You didn't answer with words. You just reached up, cupping his face, feeling the tension in his neck finally start to break.
Max didn't do "subtle" often, but when he did, it burned.
-
ynuser
liked by user1, lanadelrey, charles_leclerc and others
ynuser lost my voice, lost my mind, found my favorite place again 🤍 thank you for screaming with me
friend1 YOU ATE SO HARD???
friend2 i have no hearing left btw thanks
user1 THE LAST SLIDE HELLO???? WHO IS THAT 🫦
user2 she looks so happy lately 🥹
user3 WAIT IS THAT MAX VERSTAPPEN BACKSTAGE OR AM I DELUSIONAL
lando good show 👍
user1 LANDO WHAT DO YOU KNOW
user4 THE DRIVERS IN HER COMMENTS????
ynuser idk who you’re talking about 😭
-
“We’re not serious.”
Max says it like he’s reading a data sheet. Like if he labels the situation, he can keep it from spiraling out of control. It’s a boundary. It’s a safety net.
You always nod like it doesn't matter, your expression as practiced as a red-carpet pose. “Totally. Just casual.”
But "casual" doesn't usually involve sneaking through service elevators at 3:00 AM. It doesn't involve the quiet, heavy click of a hotel deadbolt and the immediate relief of being in a room where nobody is holding a camera.
When you open the door, he’s always there—no announcement, no fanfare. Just Max, leaning against the doorframe with that half-hidden smirk.
“Hi,” you whisper.
“Hi,” he responds, his voice low and raspy from a day of radio comms.
No labels. No questions. Just the way his hands find your waist like they’ve memorized the coordinates. Casual doesn’t feel like the glow of a phone screen in the middle of the night.
[2:07 AM] Max: you’re still awake?
You’re staring at the ceiling of a penthouse in London, the city lights bleeding through the curtains. You smile into your pillow, the heat of the text hitting you harder than it should.
You: jet lag is ruining my life. why are you up?
There’s a pause. The "typing..." bubble appears, disappears, and then comes back.
Max: you have rehearsal at 10. go to sleep.
Your chest feels warm, a frantic little flutter that you try to ignore. You know for a fact he didn't have your tour itinerary—at least, he wasn't supposed to.
You: yes, dad.
Max: shut up. sleep.
You laugh softly, burying your face in the duvet so your stylist in the next room doesn’t hear you.
“Just casual,” he repeats a few days later, almost like a mantra he needs to hear out loud.
You’re in his kitchen in Monaco, barefoot and swallowed whole by one of his oversized Red Bull hoodies. You’re humming a melody that hasn't been released yet, opening his fridge with the casual entitlement of someone who knows exactly where the orange juice is kept.
“Yeah,” you echo, glancing at him over your shoulder. “No strings.”
But "casual" doesn't memorize your flight numbers. It doesn't know exactly what time your soundcheck starts in a different time zone. It doesn't result in a vibration in your pocket five minutes before you go on stage.
Max: good luck tonight.
Max: you’ll be great.
Max: text me after.
Casual doesn’t stay on the phone while you fall asleep.
There are nights when the tour is too much, when the noise of the fans and the pressure of the label feel like they’re crushing you. You’ll call him, and he won’t say much—he isn’t a man of many words—but he’ll stay.
He’ll stay on the line while you breathe, his own steady, rhythmic breathing acting as an anchor. He’ll wait until your voice trails off, until you’ve finally drifted away.
“You did good today,” he’ll whisper into the silence, thinking you’re too far gone to hear him.
One night, you’re sitting on his kitchen counter, your legs brushing his thighs as he leans in to grab a glass. You don't move. He doesn't either.
“You’re actually terrible at 'casual,' Max,” you say, your voice daring him to look at you.
He pauses, his hand hovering near the cupboard. He doesn't look away. “…I’m not.”
“You text me before every single show. You know my schedule better than my assistant does.”
“That’s just being efficient,” he counters, though his voice has lost its edge. “I like knowing where you are.”
“You remember things I don’t even remember telling you,” you press, stepping off the counter so you’re standing directly in his space. “The name of my first guitar. How I like my coffee when I’m tired. That’s not 'casual' behavior.”
“Max.” He looks at you then. Really looks. The World Champion, the man who can navigate a turn at 200 mph without blinking, suddenly looks like he’s hit a wall he didn't see coming.
The silence stretches, thick and heavy with everything neither of you is supposed to feel.
“Just casual,” he repeats, but his voice is a ghost of itself. His hand lingers on your waist, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle against the fabric of his own hoodie.
He doesn't pull away. And for once, you don't let him.
-
lando
liked by ynuser, alex_albon, user and others
lando weekend 👍
10 minutes later… POST DELETED
-
user - username
WHY WAS SHE ON HIS LAP LIKE THAT????
user - username
I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE LANDO NORRIS
user - username
NOT EVEN HARD LAUNCH THIS IS FULL ON CONFIRMATION 😭
user - username
HE DELETED IT BUT WE WERE QUICKER
-
TIKTOK - EDITS MADE BY FANS
user this won’t last
user she’s too young for him idc
user He’s gonna get bored 🙂
user this is such a rebound situation
user She’s literally an influencer. What is he doing?
user They don’t even match ❗❗❗
user opposites attract but this is too much
user I give it 3 months.
user He’s never been with someone like her…
-
user ACTUALLY REALLY SWEET??? OH
user charles confirming before max does 😭
-
-
ynspam
monaco16 has started following you.
saintalex has started following you.
lilythegolfist has started following you.
12 more users has started following you.
-
ynspam
liked by fastlion, monaco16, saintalex and others
ynspam he said this song isn’t good btw
friend1 HE’S WRONG
friend2 DUMP HIM
saintalex THIS IS GOLD 😭
lilythegolfist he looks so domestic???
-
The apartment in Monaco was too quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy and expectant, like the air right before a thunderstorm. Max was pacing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, his jaw tight, while Y/N sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, her phone face down on the coffee table as if it were a live grenade.
"I’m just saying, Y/N, you don't have to engage with it," Max said, his voice clipped and frustratingly calm. "Why do you even read the comments? It’s just noise. If you stop posting the behind-the-scenes stuff, the vultures have nothing to pick at."
Y/N let out a sharp, dry laugh, looking up at him. "It’s not 'just noise,' Max. It’s my career. I’m a singer, not a driver who can just put a helmet on and disappear into a cockpit. My brand is my connection to people. If I go silent, I’m 'aloof.' If I speak up, I’m 'dramatic.'"
"Then let the PR team handle it," he countered, stopping his pacing to look down at her. "You’re making yourself miserable over people who don't know you. I’ve been through this for a decade. You ignore the bullshit, you do the work, and you move on. It’s simple."
"It’s simple for you," she snapped, standing up to meet his gaze. The height difference usually felt comforting, but right now, it felt like a wall she couldn't climb over. "You’re the world champion. You’re older, you’re established, and you’re a man in a sport where being 'aggressive' or 'cold' is a compliment. I’m twenty-one. To the world, I’m a girl who got lucky with a catchy hook, and they are waiting—begging—for me to mess up so they can call me a child."
Max stepped closer, his expression softening into that protective look that usually made her feel safe, but today, it felt like a cage. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she stepped back.
"I’m trying to protect you, Y/N. I don’t want to see you crying over a Twitter thread at 2:00 AM. I’ve seen how this world chews people up. I’m just telling you how to survive it."
"You’re telling me how to be quiet," she corrected, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and exhaustion. "You treat me like I’m some fragile thing that needs to be shielded, Max. Every time I try to vent, you give me a lecture. You talk to me like I’m a rookie who doesn't know the tracks, but this isn’t your world. It’s mine."
Max crossed his arms, his blue eyes hardening again. "I’ve had cameras in my face since I was seventeen. I know what it’s like to be the villain in the headlines. Don’t act like I don't understand the pressure."
Y/N looked at him, really looked at him—the man who had lived a whole lifetime of fame before she’d even graduated high school. The gap between them had never felt wider than it did in that moment.
"You understand your pressure," she said quietly, her voice cutting through the room. "But you don't get what it’s like to be me online. You’ve never had your entire worth as a human being debated because of the shirt you wore or the way you breathed in a ten-second clip. You don’t get what it’s like to be a young woman in this industry, Max. You don't get the vitriol, and you definitely don't get how much it hurts when even you look at me like I’m just a kid who doesn't know any better."
Max opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat. He looked at her—really saw the frustration and the genuine hurt in her eyes—and for the first time in a long time, the man who always had a calculated answer was left in total silence.
-
user - username
she’s so pretty but she looks like she’s playing dress up in her kids clothes… idk
user - username
the age gap is really starting to show. she looks like a fan he picked up at a concert.
user - username
Kelly had that elegance. Y/N is just… a pop star. It’s a massive downgrade in maturity if you ask me. ☕️
user - username
Max went from a woman to a girl who still uses TikTok filters. I give it six months.
user - username
@ user RT. Max needs someone who understands the pressure of the sport, not someone who’s spiraling over her own album charts every week.
-
-
maxverstappen1
liked by ynuser, charles_leclerc, alexandraleclerc and others
maxverstappen1 My favorite person ❤️
user Still think Kelly was a better fit for the champion lifestyle…
maxverstappen1 @ user Then go follow her. I’m happy with my life, you should try finding one of your own. 👍
-
ynuser
liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe, friend1 and others
ynuser ocean air, salty hair 🌊
maxverstappen1 Nice 👍
ynuser @ maxverstappen1 max i am literally your girlfriend, "nice 👍" is for a podium finish, not this. this is why we don't let you comment.
user Not the thumbs up 😭 he is such a dad i’m crying
-
-
The air in the Monaco penthouse was thick with the scent of expensive hotel candles and the lingering metallic tang of Max’s race gear, discarded near the door. Suitcases were open like jagged teeth across the floor—hers, packed for the Asian leg of her world tour; his, barely zipped for the triple-header in the Americas.
Y/N was sitting on the floor, her head resting against the side of the bed, staring at a stack of polaroids they’d taken in Ibiza. She looked small, swallowed by one of Max’s oversized Red Bull hoodies.
"I can’t even look at my phone without seeing a side-by-side of us and his 'past life,'" she whispered, her voice sounding thin and frayed. "And tomorrow I’m in Tokyo, and you’re in Austin, and then Mexico... Max, I’m drowning. I feel like I’m dragging you down into this circus with me."
Max stopped mid-motion, his hand hovering over his watch charger. He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing. "You think you’re dragging me down? Y/N, I’ve lived in a circus since I was four years old. I don't care about the noise."
"I do!" she stood up, the movement sudden and sharp. "I care because it’s hurting my music. I care because every time I post a song about being happy, people find a way to make it about your history. Maybe..." she swallowed hard, the word catching in her throat like a shard of glass. "Maybe we should just... take a break. Just until the season is over. Until my tour wraps. Just so we can breathe."
The silence that followed was deafening. Max didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just looked at her with a terrifyingly calm intensity that made her heart stutter.
"A break," he repeated, the words sounding foreign and bitter.
"Just to take the pressure off," she tried to explain, her eyes filling with tears. "So the media stops hunting us. So I can focus on my fans and you can focus on the championship without having to defend me every five minutes."
Max took three slow steps toward her, stopping only when he was inches away. He didn't reach for her. He stayed perfectly still, a statue of cold, hard resolve.
"I’m going to say this once," Max said, his voice dropping into that low, guttural register he used when he was absolutely serious on the radio. "I spent a year alone after Kelly. I spent a year doing exactly what everyone told me to do—focusing on the car, staying quiet, living for the points. It was the most boring, empty year of my life."
He stepped even closer, forcing her to look up.
"I already did the 'break' thing once, Y/N. I’ve seen what my life looks like without the person I actually want to come home to. I’m not doing it again."
"Max—"
"No," he cut her off, his hand finally coming up to cup her jaw, his thumb wiping away a stray tear with a firm, almost desperate pressure. "If you’re tired, we’ll buy you a private jet so you can sleep between shows. If the media is loud, I’ll hire more security to keep them away from your door. But I am not letting you go because some losers on the internet can't move on from my past. You are my present. You are my future. And if you think I’m letting you walk out that door because things got 'difficult,' then you really don't know me at all."
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath hitching just slightly. "Don't ask me for a break again. I don't do breaks. I win, or I crash. And I’m not planning on crashing this."
The tension from the night before hadn't fully vanished, but it had shifted from a sharp, jagged edge to a low, steady hum of mutual understanding. The suitcases were still there, a reminder of the thousands of miles about to come between them, but the "break" was officially off the table.
The drive to the private terminal was silent, but not heavy. Max’s hand was anchored on Y/N’s thigh, his thumb tracing small circles over the fabric of her jeans. It was his way of tethering her to him before the world tried to pull them apart again.
"You're going to kill it in Tokyo," Max said, his voice gravelly from lack of sleep. "And I don't want to hear about you checking the charts at 3:00 AM. You do the show, you go to sleep. I’ll be awake in Austin if you need to call."
Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. "And you? No 'nice thump up' comments while I'm gone? I need real support, Max. At least a heart emoji."
Max let out a short, huffed laugh. "I think I’ve established my position on the internet for the week. I’m sticking to the 'defender' role for a while. It’s more effective."
Three days later, the media was still buzzing about the "breakup scare" rumors and the deleted comments on Max’s Instagram. During the Thursday press conference, a journalist couldn't help himself.
"Max, there’s been a lot of talk about the 'distractions' in your personal life lately, especially with the crossover between the F1 world and the music industry. Does the intense media scrutiny around your relationship affect your focus on the championship?"
Max didn't even lean into the mic. He just stared the reporter down with that famously blunt "Verstappen" gaze.
"The only 'distraction' is having to answer questions about my private life instead of the car," Max said coolly. "My girlfriend is currently selling out stadiums in Japan. She’s the hardest working person I know. If anything, her 'circus' makes mine look like a playground. She doesn't distract me; she makes me want to be better. Next question."
-
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user - username
Y/N just performed a new song in Tokyo and the lyrics are: "You tell me I’m young like it’s a crime / But you’re the one running out of time / To keep up with me." OH SHE’S TALKING TO THE WORLD CHAMPION. THE AGE GAP TENSION IS CORE TO THE DISCOGRAPHY 🎤🔥
user - username
the way they fought, almost broke up, and then Max decided to become her #1 PR manager is the character development I needed
user - username
"I don't do breaks" - Max Verstappen, 2026. He really said 'If we're going down, we're going down together.' I'm crying.
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user - username
“My boy’s a winner, he loves the game / My lips reflect off his gold chain” OH SHE’S NOT EVEN TRYING TO HIDE IT ANYMORE. Max literally wears that gold chain every single race day. 😭
user - username
“Losing all my innocence in the back seat” AND SHE’S 21/22??? Max Verstappen what have you done to our girl 💀💀
user - username
The way Makies is probably having a heart attack over the “fog up the windows in the parking lot” line right now.
user - username
Not her writing a whole anthem about a Red Bull driver and mentioning Diet Pepsi… the brand conflict is hilarious.
-
ynuser
liked by maxverstappen1, llilymhe, alexandraleclerc and others
ynuser untouched, xo. 🍒
maxverstappen1 I told you Red Bull tastes better. But the song is good. 👍
ynuser @ maxverstappen1 max please… i am trying to have a "pop star" moment and you’re doing brand deals in my comments. 🙄
charles_leclerc Nice song! But I think the "back seat" part might be a bit difficult in a race car, no? 😂
maxverstappen1 @ charles_leclerc Focus on your own car, Charles.
requests are open yeyy! can i request a smau and written fic with mv3 x younger! reader (maybe 2004) where they got together a year after kelly broke up with max? and reader is actually a famous singer (like addison rae type)
thank youuu
Untouched, XO - MV3
served with: max verstappen x fem!young-gf!reader
chef's note: in the world of F1, everyone has an opinion. They had opinions when Max and Kelly called it quits, and they had even louder ones when he started showing up to the paddock with Y/N—the twenty-one-year-old pop sensation. Falling in love was the easy part. The hard part is navigating the 2:00 AM Twitter threads, the "downgrade" comparisons, and a world champion boyfriend who thinks "protecting" you means keeping you quiet.
The paddock always felt like a place you weren’t meant to enjoy. It was too loud, too fast, and filled with too many people acting like a car going in circles was the pinnacle of human achievement.
You adjusted your sunglasses, leaning closer to your manager as the humidity began to mess with your blowout.
“Be honest—if I ‘accidentally’ get lost and end up back at the hotel, how bad would it be?”
“Catastrophic,” she replied, her eyes glued to her phone. “You’re headlining the post-race concert tonight. Try to look like you’re having the time of your life.”
You hummed, unconvinced, watching a camera crew scurry past. A collective hush fell over the nearby crowd, followed by a wave of frantic whispers. It was the kind of energy usually reserved for a surprise drop or a red carpet entrance.
“That’s him,” your manager muttered, finally looking up.
You followed her gaze, uninterested. “Which one? There are fifty guys in matching polos.”
“The World Champion. Max Verstappen.”
He didn’t look like what you expected. There was no dramatic entrance, no ego-flaring energy. He was just… quiet. Hands tucked into his pockets, expression unreadable, walking with a focused stride that suggested he’d rather be anywhere else.
You shrugged, turning back toward the hospitality suite. “The Dutch guy?”
Max heard it. The words were tossed over your shoulder like a piece of confetti—light, colorful, and entirely dismissive.
He slowed his pace, just for a fraction of a second, catching a glimpse of you walking away. You didn’t look back. There was no double-take, no flash of recognition, and absolutely zero interest.
It was a refreshing, if slightly jarring, change of pace.
Later, a PR representative insisted on a formal introduction. It was the "famous singer meets famous driver" photo-op that everyone but the two of you seemed to want.
You offered a polite, practiced smile, your hand feeling small and warm in his when you shook it.
“Hi,” you said, your voice airy and calm. “I think I’m supposed to know exactly who you are. My apologies.”
Max blinked, his blue eyes searching yours for a hint of sarcasm. He didn’t find any. “That would usually help the conversation, yeah.”
You tilted your head, studying the sharp lines of his face like he was a puzzle you weren’t quite sure was worth solving. “They said you’re the best at this?”
A beat of silence passed. Max gave a small, almost shy shrug. “...Sometimes.”
You nodded, accepting that as if it were a perfectly mundane answer. Your eyes drifted toward the garage behind him, where millions of dollars of machinery sat in pieces. “They all look the same, honestly. Does it matter which one you pick?”
Max huffed a quiet laugh before he could catch himself. It wasn't his usual media-trained chuckle; it was genuine. “It matters a little bit, yes.”
You didn’t ask for a picture. You didn’t linger to talk about his stats. You didn’t even try to keep the conversation going once the silence grew thin.
“Well, good luck, I guess,” you added, already stepping back and checking your watch. “Drive safe, or whatever.”
Max watched you leave. Again.
“She just dismissed you,” Lando said, appearing at his side with a grin that was far too wide. “Completely blew you off.”
“I noticed.”
“Called you ‘the Dutch guy’ earlier, too. I heard her.”
Max exhaled, but it wasn't the sigh of someone who was annoyed. His gaze stayed fixed on the spot where you’d disappeared into the crowd. “I’m not thinking about it,” Max said, preempting the comment.
“You definitely are.”
Max didn't answer.
But later that night—when your voice carried over the circuit, clear and effortless, amplified by a thousand speakers—Max stopped mid-sentence in the middle of a technical debrief. He looked up at the monitors, watching you command a stage of thousands with the same casual indifference you'd shown him.
And for the first time all weekend, he wasn't thinking about his lap times. He was paying attention.
-
ynuser
liked by friend1, friend2, f1 and others
ynuser sang, danced, almost passed out from the heat… and apparently met “the dutch guy” 🏁 idk what’s going on but it was fun
friend1 NOT “THE DUTCH GUY” 💀
friend2 girl that’s literally THE max verstappen
user1 THE LAST PIC???? HELLO????
user2 excuse me why is max in her photo dump 😭
user3 max smiling like that??? oh this is serious (it’s been 5 minutes)
user4 new crossover just dropped???
charles_leclerc nice performance 👍
user1 CHARLES WHAT DO YOU KNOW
user5 she said “the dutch guy” like he’s a random man at starbucks 😭
user6 coming back to this when they’re dating btw
ynuser guys relax he was nice 😭
- weeks after
replies:
a - username ain’t no way 😭
b - username HE DOESN’T GO OUT LIKE THIS???
c - username why does he look… soft
d - username that’s literally him I’m sick
-
tiktok
clip: you in your bathroom, phone propped up on the counter. Lipsyncing a love song, you turn to grab something and—in the mirror—there’s a figure behind you. Sitting on the counter, cap low. Scrolling his phone like he doesn’t even realize he’s in frame.
comments:
user1 UM???? PAUSE??? BACKGROUND???
user2 WHO IS THAT MAN
user3 GIRL IS THAT THE DUTCH GUY
user4 he’s just… there. like a side quest character 😭
user5 this is the most accidental hard launch ever
-
-
The studio was stifling.
It was a chaotic mix of expensive equipment, half-empty energy drinks, and a vibrating energy that usually made you feel alive. Today, though, the air felt heavy. You were in the middle of a playback, leaning over a mixing board with Julian, the artist you were collaborating with.
He said something—a dumb joke about a missed note—and you erupted into a laugh, your hand instinctively resting on his forearm for balance. It was the "industry" version of you: warm, accessible, effortlessly charming.
“Okay, okay—run it back from the second verse,” Julian said, grinning back at you.
You nodded, sweeping your hair over your shoulder as you stepped toward the vocal booth. But your eyes drifted to the corner of the room.
Max hadn’t moved in an hour.
He was leaning against the soundproof foam wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his Red Bull cap pulled low. He was a silent spectator, watching the scene with the same terrifying focus he usually reserved for a telemetry screen.
You caught his eye and flashed him a quick, bright grin.
He didn't smile back. He just gave a singular, slow nod—the kind that meant he’d seen exactly what he needed to see.
“Five-minute break?” the producer called out.
You pulled your headphones off, the silence of the booth ringing in your ears. You walked straight toward Max, trying to shake off the sudden chill.
“Hey,” you said, stepping into his space. “You’ve been so quiet. What do you think of the track?”
Max shrugged, his eyes finally lifting from the floor to your face. “It’s good. Very catchy.”
“‘Catchy’?” you teased, poking his arm. “I just spent three hours bleeding my soul into that mic and you give me ‘catchy’?”
“It’s your world,” he said simply, his voice flat. “You know if it’s good. You don't need me to tell you.”
You squinted at him, the playful mood dying. “You’re being weird, Max.”
“I’m not.”
He pushed off the wall, bypassing you to grab his water bottle. He didn't look back.
It was nearly 1:00 AM by the time the elevator dinged on your floor. The silence of the hotel hallway felt like a relief after the roar of the studio.
You kicked your heels off the moment you crossed the threshold of the suite, tossing your bag onto the sofa. “Julian is actually a genius,” you said, still trying to bridge the gap between you. “The way he writes melodies on the fly… it’s actually insane. I think this might be a Top 10 hit.”
“You laugh like that with everyone?” The question was so soft you almost missed it.
You froze, your jacket halfway off your shoulders. You turned slowly. Max was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of the city casting sharp shadows across his face. He looked like he regretted the words the moment they left his mouth.
“…What?”
“When you’re working,” he clarified, his jaw tight. “Is that just… the standard? The touching, the laughing at things that aren't funny. Is that how it works?”
You stared at him, the realization hitting you like a physical weight. You walked closer, stopping just a few feet away.
“Are you jealous, Max?” you asked. You didn't mean it as a taunt; you were genuinely floored.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re the World Champion,” you whispered, taking another step. “You’re the most confident person I’ve ever met. You really think I’m looking at anyone else in a room you’re standing in?”
He exhaled a harsh, jagged breath, his eyes finally snapping to yours.
“It’s different, seeing it,” he admitted, his voice dropping an octave. “I spend my life in a car where everything is logic and data. Then I watch you… and you’re so easy with people. You give them so much of yourself.”
He reached out, his fingers catching your wrist and pulling you into his space. His grip wasn't tight, but it was possessive.
“I know it’s work,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips and then back to your eyes. “Doesn’t mean I have to like watching them think they have a chance.”
You didn't answer with words. You just reached up, cupping his face, feeling the tension in his neck finally start to break.
Max didn't do "subtle" often, but when he did, it burned.
-
ynuser
liked by user1, lanadelrey, charles_leclerc and others
ynuser lost my voice, lost my mind, found my favorite place again 🤍 thank you for screaming with me
friend1 YOU ATE SO HARD???
friend2 i have no hearing left btw thanks
user1 THE LAST SLIDE HELLO???? WHO IS THAT 🫦
user2 she looks so happy lately 🥹
user3 WAIT IS THAT MAX VERSTAPPEN BACKSTAGE OR AM I DELUSIONAL
lando good show 👍
user1 LANDO WHAT DO YOU KNOW
user4 THE DRIVERS IN HER COMMENTS????
ynuser idk who you’re talking about 😭
-
“We’re not serious.”
Max says it like he’s reading a data sheet. Like if he labels the situation, he can keep it from spiraling out of control. It’s a boundary. It’s a safety net.
You always nod like it doesn't matter, your expression as practiced as a red-carpet pose. “Totally. Just casual.”
But "casual" doesn't usually involve sneaking through service elevators at 3:00 AM. It doesn't involve the quiet, heavy click of a hotel deadbolt and the immediate relief of being in a room where nobody is holding a camera.
When you open the door, he’s always there—no announcement, no fanfare. Just Max, leaning against the doorframe with that half-hidden smirk.
“Hi,” you whisper.
“Hi,” he responds, his voice low and raspy from a day of radio comms.
No labels. No questions. Just the way his hands find your waist like they’ve memorized the coordinates. Casual doesn’t feel like the glow of a phone screen in the middle of the night.
[2:07 AM] Max: you’re still awake?
You’re staring at the ceiling of a penthouse in London, the city lights bleeding through the curtains. You smile into your pillow, the heat of the text hitting you harder than it should.
You: jet lag is ruining my life. why are you up?
There’s a pause. The "typing..." bubble appears, disappears, and then comes back.
Max: you have rehearsal at 10. go to sleep.
Your chest feels warm, a frantic little flutter that you try to ignore. You know for a fact he didn't have your tour itinerary—at least, he wasn't supposed to.
You: yes, dad.
Max: shut up. sleep.
You laugh softly, burying your face in the duvet so your stylist in the next room doesn’t hear you.
“Just casual,” he repeats a few days later, almost like a mantra he needs to hear out loud.
You’re in his kitchen in Monaco, barefoot and swallowed whole by one of his oversized Red Bull hoodies. You’re humming a melody that hasn't been released yet, opening his fridge with the casual entitlement of someone who knows exactly where the orange juice is kept.
“Yeah,” you echo, glancing at him over your shoulder. “No strings.”
But "casual" doesn't memorize your flight numbers. It doesn't know exactly what time your soundcheck starts in a different time zone. It doesn't result in a vibration in your pocket five minutes before you go on stage.
Max: good luck tonight.
Max: you’ll be great.
Max: text me after.
Casual doesn’t stay on the phone while you fall asleep.
There are nights when the tour is too much, when the noise of the fans and the pressure of the label feel like they’re crushing you. You’ll call him, and he won’t say much—he isn’t a man of many words—but he’ll stay.
He’ll stay on the line while you breathe, his own steady, rhythmic breathing acting as an anchor. He’ll wait until your voice trails off, until you’ve finally drifted away.
“You did good today,” he’ll whisper into the silence, thinking you’re too far gone to hear him.
One night, you’re sitting on his kitchen counter, your legs brushing his thighs as he leans in to grab a glass. You don't move. He doesn't either.
“You’re actually terrible at 'casual,' Max,” you say, your voice daring him to look at you.
He pauses, his hand hovering near the cupboard. He doesn't look away. “…I’m not.”
“You text me before every single show. You know my schedule better than my assistant does.”
“That’s just being efficient,” he counters, though his voice has lost its edge. “I like knowing where you are.”
“You remember things I don’t even remember telling you,” you press, stepping off the counter so you’re standing directly in his space. “The name of my first guitar. How I like my coffee when I’m tired. That’s not 'casual' behavior.”
“Max.” He looks at you then. Really looks. The World Champion, the man who can navigate a turn at 200 mph without blinking, suddenly looks like he’s hit a wall he didn't see coming.
The silence stretches, thick and heavy with everything neither of you is supposed to feel.
“Just casual,” he repeats, but his voice is a ghost of itself. His hand lingers on your waist, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle against the fabric of his own hoodie.
He doesn't pull away. And for once, you don't let him.
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lando
liked by ynuser, alex_albon, user and others
lando weekend 👍
10 minutes later… POST DELETED
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user - username
WHY WAS SHE ON HIS LAP LIKE THAT????
user - username
I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE LANDO NORRIS
user - username
NOT EVEN HARD LAUNCH THIS IS FULL ON CONFIRMATION 😭
user - username
HE DELETED IT BUT WE WERE QUICKER
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TIKTOK - EDITS MADE BY FANS
user this won’t last
user she’s too young for him idc
user He’s gonna get bored 🙂
user this is such a rebound situation
user She’s literally an influencer. What is he doing?
user They don’t even match ❗❗❗
user opposites attract but this is too much
user I give it 3 months.
user He’s never been with someone like her…
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user ACTUALLY REALLY SWEET??? OH
user charles confirming before max does 😭
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ynspam
monaco16 has started following you.
saintalex has started following you.
lilythegolfist has started following you.
12 more users has started following you.
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ynspam
liked by fastlion, monaco16, saintalex and others
ynspam he said this song isn’t good btw
friend1 HE’S WRONG
friend2 DUMP HIM
saintalex THIS IS GOLD 😭
lilythegolfist he looks so domestic???
-
The apartment in Monaco was too quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy and expectant, like the air right before a thunderstorm. Max was pacing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, his jaw tight, while Y/N sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, her phone face down on the coffee table as if it were a live grenade.
"I’m just saying, Y/N, you don't have to engage with it," Max said, his voice clipped and frustratingly calm. "Why do you even read the comments? It’s just noise. If you stop posting the behind-the-scenes stuff, the vultures have nothing to pick at."
Y/N let out a sharp, dry laugh, looking up at him. "It’s not 'just noise,' Max. It’s my career. I’m a singer, not a driver who can just put a helmet on and disappear into a cockpit. My brand is my connection to people. If I go silent, I’m 'aloof.' If I speak up, I’m 'dramatic.'"
"Then let the PR team handle it," he countered, stopping his pacing to look down at her. "You’re making yourself miserable over people who don't know you. I’ve been through this for a decade. You ignore the bullshit, you do the work, and you move on. It’s simple."
"It’s simple for you," she snapped, standing up to meet his gaze. The height difference usually felt comforting, but right now, it felt like a wall she couldn't climb over. "You’re the world champion. You’re older, you’re established, and you’re a man in a sport where being 'aggressive' or 'cold' is a compliment. I’m twenty-one. To the world, I’m a girl who got lucky with a catchy hook, and they are waiting—begging—for me to mess up so they can call me a child."
Max stepped closer, his expression softening into that protective look that usually made her feel safe, but today, it felt like a cage. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she stepped back.
"I’m trying to protect you, Y/N. I don’t want to see you crying over a Twitter thread at 2:00 AM. I’ve seen how this world chews people up. I’m just telling you how to survive it."
"You’re telling me how to be quiet," she corrected, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and exhaustion. "You treat me like I’m some fragile thing that needs to be shielded, Max. Every time I try to vent, you give me a lecture. You talk to me like I’m a rookie who doesn't know the tracks, but this isn’t your world. It’s mine."
Max crossed his arms, his blue eyes hardening again. "I’ve had cameras in my face since I was seventeen. I know what it’s like to be the villain in the headlines. Don’t act like I don't understand the pressure."
Y/N looked at him, really looked at him—the man who had lived a whole lifetime of fame before she’d even graduated high school. The gap between them had never felt wider than it did in that moment.
"You understand your pressure," she said quietly, her voice cutting through the room. "But you don't get what it’s like to be me online. You’ve never had your entire worth as a human being debated because of the shirt you wore or the way you breathed in a ten-second clip. You don’t get what it’s like to be a young woman in this industry, Max. You don't get the vitriol, and you definitely don't get how much it hurts when even you look at me like I’m just a kid who doesn't know any better."
Max opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat. He looked at her—really saw the frustration and the genuine hurt in her eyes—and for the first time in a long time, the man who always had a calculated answer was left in total silence.
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user - username
she’s so pretty but she looks like she’s playing dress up in her kids clothes… idk
user - username
the age gap is really starting to show. she looks like a fan he picked up at a concert.
user - username
Kelly had that elegance. Y/N is just… a pop star. It’s a massive downgrade in maturity if you ask me. ☕️
user - username
Max went from a woman to a girl who still uses TikTok filters. I give it six months.
user - username
@ user RT. Max needs someone who understands the pressure of the sport, not someone who’s spiraling over her own album charts every week.
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maxverstappen1
liked by ynuser, charles_leclerc, alexandraleclerc and others
maxverstappen1 My favorite person ❤️
user Still think Kelly was a better fit for the champion lifestyle…
maxverstappen1 @ user Then go follow her. I’m happy with my life, you should try finding one of your own. 👍
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ynuser
liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe, friend1 and others
ynuser ocean air, salty hair 🌊
maxverstappen1 Nice 👍
ynuser @ maxverstappen1 max i am literally your girlfriend, "nice 👍" is for a podium finish, not this. this is why we don't let you comment.
user Not the thumbs up 😭 he is such a dad i’m crying
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The air in the Monaco penthouse was thick with the scent of expensive hotel candles and the lingering metallic tang of Max’s race gear, discarded near the door. Suitcases were open like jagged teeth across the floor—hers, packed for the Asian leg of her world tour; his, barely zipped for the triple-header in the Americas.
Y/N was sitting on the floor, her head resting against the side of the bed, staring at a stack of polaroids they’d taken in Ibiza. She looked small, swallowed by one of Max’s oversized Red Bull hoodies.
"I can’t even look at my phone without seeing a side-by-side of us and his 'past life,'" she whispered, her voice sounding thin and frayed. "And tomorrow I’m in Tokyo, and you’re in Austin, and then Mexico... Max, I’m drowning. I feel like I’m dragging you down into this circus with me."
Max stopped mid-motion, his hand hovering over his watch charger. He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing. "You think you’re dragging me down? Y/N, I’ve lived in a circus since I was four years old. I don't care about the noise."
"I do!" she stood up, the movement sudden and sharp. "I care because it’s hurting my music. I care because every time I post a song about being happy, people find a way to make it about your history. Maybe..." she swallowed hard, the word catching in her throat like a shard of glass. "Maybe we should just... take a break. Just until the season is over. Until my tour wraps. Just so we can breathe."
The silence that followed was deafening. Max didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just looked at her with a terrifyingly calm intensity that made her heart stutter.
"A break," he repeated, the words sounding foreign and bitter.
"Just to take the pressure off," she tried to explain, her eyes filling with tears. "So the media stops hunting us. So I can focus on my fans and you can focus on the championship without having to defend me every five minutes."
Max took three slow steps toward her, stopping only when he was inches away. He didn't reach for her. He stayed perfectly still, a statue of cold, hard resolve.
"I’m going to say this once," Max said, his voice dropping into that low, guttural register he used when he was absolutely serious on the radio. "I spent a year alone after Kelly. I spent a year doing exactly what everyone told me to do—focusing on the car, staying quiet, living for the points. It was the most boring, empty year of my life."
He stepped even closer, forcing her to look up.
"I already did the 'break' thing once, Y/N. I’ve seen what my life looks like without the person I actually want to come home to. I’m not doing it again."
"Max—"
"No," he cut her off, his hand finally coming up to cup her jaw, his thumb wiping away a stray tear with a firm, almost desperate pressure. "If you’re tired, we’ll buy you a private jet so you can sleep between shows. If the media is loud, I’ll hire more security to keep them away from your door. But I am not letting you go because some losers on the internet can't move on from my past. You are my present. You are my future. And if you think I’m letting you walk out that door because things got 'difficult,' then you really don't know me at all."
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath hitching just slightly. "Don't ask me for a break again. I don't do breaks. I win, or I crash. And I’m not planning on crashing this."
The tension from the night before hadn't fully vanished, but it had shifted from a sharp, jagged edge to a low, steady hum of mutual understanding. The suitcases were still there, a reminder of the thousands of miles about to come between them, but the "break" was officially off the table.
The drive to the private terminal was silent, but not heavy. Max’s hand was anchored on Y/N’s thigh, his thumb tracing small circles over the fabric of her jeans. It was his way of tethering her to him before the world tried to pull them apart again.
"You're going to kill it in Tokyo," Max said, his voice gravelly from lack of sleep. "And I don't want to hear about you checking the charts at 3:00 AM. You do the show, you go to sleep. I’ll be awake in Austin if you need to call."
Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. "And you? No 'nice thump up' comments while I'm gone? I need real support, Max. At least a heart emoji."
Max let out a short, huffed laugh. "I think I’ve established my position on the internet for the week. I’m sticking to the 'defender' role for a while. It’s more effective."
Three days later, the media was still buzzing about the "breakup scare" rumors and the deleted comments on Max’s Instagram. During the Thursday press conference, a journalist couldn't help himself.
"Max, there’s been a lot of talk about the 'distractions' in your personal life lately, especially with the crossover between the F1 world and the music industry. Does the intense media scrutiny around your relationship affect your focus on the championship?"
Max didn't even lean into the mic. He just stared the reporter down with that famously blunt "Verstappen" gaze.
"The only 'distraction' is having to answer questions about my private life instead of the car," Max said coolly. "My girlfriend is currently selling out stadiums in Japan. She’s the hardest working person I know. If anything, her 'circus' makes mine look like a playground. She doesn't distract me; she makes me want to be better. Next question."
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user - username
Y/N just performed a new song in Tokyo and the lyrics are: "You tell me I’m young like it’s a crime / But you’re the one running out of time / To keep up with me." OH SHE’S TALKING TO THE WORLD CHAMPION. THE AGE GAP TENSION IS CORE TO THE DISCOGRAPHY 🎤🔥
user - username
the way they fought, almost broke up, and then Max decided to become her #1 PR manager is the character development I needed
user - username
"I don't do breaks" - Max Verstappen, 2026. He really said 'If we're going down, we're going down together.' I'm crying.
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user - username
“My boy’s a winner, he loves the game / My lips reflect off his gold chain” OH SHE’S NOT EVEN TRYING TO HIDE IT ANYMORE. Max literally wears that gold chain every single race day. 😭
user - username
“Losing all my innocence in the back seat” AND SHE’S 21/22??? Max Verstappen what have you done to our girl 💀💀
user - username
The way Makies is probably having a heart attack over the “fog up the windows in the parking lot” line right now.
user - username
Not her writing a whole anthem about a Red Bull driver and mentioning Diet Pepsi… the brand conflict is hilarious.
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ynuser
liked by maxverstappen1, llilymhe, alexandraleclerc and others
ynuser untouched, xo. 🍒
maxverstappen1 I told you Red Bull tastes better. But the song is good. 👍
ynuser @ maxverstappen1 max please… i am trying to have a "pop star" moment and you’re doing brand deals in my comments. 🙄
charles_leclerc Nice song! But I think the "back seat" part might be a bit difficult in a race car, no? 😂
maxverstappen1 @ charles_leclerc Focus on your own car, Charles.
JJK men as ancient Gods, Heroes and Warriors x F!Reader for my freaks <3
Pairings: Gojo x Reader, Suguru x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Satosugu
content/warnings: Historical AU, Ancient History, JJK men as historical figures, definitely heavy smut, how to tame a God/Warrior guide heh, I'll try to keep it historically accurate since im a history freak, this is my wet dream about fucking ancient Gods lmao
a/n: Since so many people loved Anubis!Geto, I decided to start a full historical series!
Want to read more historical works?
Check this collection ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
dividers by @saradika-graphics
༄ Geto Suguru
⋆˙⟡ Anubis, Egyptian God of the Dead ꒰ The desert is cold at night. The West Bank of the Nile deadly silent, with a sand gripping your lifeless body. But you shall not fear death, as your mother would say. You shall not, because he will come and guide you to the afterlife. Anubis, God of the Dead, Lord of the Duat, Protector of the Desert, Jackal-Headed Lord, your – oh ꒱
༄ Gojo Satoru
⋆˙⟡ Roman Tyrant Julius Caesar ꒰ How ruthless a man he was. Rome's greatest general. The man of the hour. Caesar, his battle name was, but Gojo Satoru in heart. A tyrant, a beast, a genius himself, your... only hope. Because how could you get back your title as the Queen of Egypt, by not using the help of the Imperator himself? And how could you not predict for him to drop down to his knees so pitifully? ꒱
༄ Choso Kamo
⋆˙⟡ Hades, Greek God of the Underworld ꒰ How easy was it to have the mightiest, the most frightening and stern God wrapped around your finger? Easy, apparently, because Hades, God of the Underworld, a gloomy, lone figure, so powerful as the oldest one of the three brothers, was nothing but a whimpering mess for his dearest Goddess! ꒱
༄ Ryomen Sukuna
⋆˙⟡ Set, Egyptian God of Wars, Violence and Sands ꒰ How brute of a God he was. A monster, Lord of Upper Egypt, Harbinger of Chaos, God of Wars, tormenting the country with his power. An usurper. So what happens when a sweet girl comes up one day, claiming that she's the one meant to inherit the rule over Egypt? ꒱
༄ Toji Fushiguro
⋆˙⟡ Roman Gladiator ꒰ Every Roman citizen loved gladiatorial fights. Just not you. But when you finally decided to see one in the company of your husband, it turned out that one fighter in particular had set his eye on you. A beast, a brute, a butcher, with strong knees that could bend solely for his lady ꒱
༄ Nanami Kento
⋆˙⟡ Greek Hero Heracles ꒰ What's the easiest way to get rid of a tenacious man who desperately asks for your hand? Give him twelve impossible challenges, of course, in hopes he'll drop out before finishing them all. But... maybe underestimating the Olympian's greatest hero, the strongest demigod alive, Zeus's warrior, wasn't the greatest choice ꒱
༄ Satosugu
⋆˙⟡ Alexander the Great and Hephaestion ꒰ For Macedonian's, he was the King. In Asia, they called him Conqueror. Egyptians bestowed upon him the title of Pharaoh, and Greeks believed he was Zeus's offspring. But for his closest general, companion, lover... he was just Satoru. Suguru's most beloved golden boy ꒱
DO NOT COPY MY WORK, if anyone wants to get inspired please tag me
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ want to join permanent taglist? sign up here ꨄ︎
୨୧ — "Where is she?" Sukuna demanded, crimson eyes scanning your floral shop with predatory focus.
You glanced up from where you were arranging a vase, not bothering to hide your smile at his agitation. Five years together had taught you when his rage was genuinely dangerous and when it was… well, this…
"Good morning to you too," you replied calmly, tucking a spring of baby’s breath into the arrangement.
As he moved past you, you noticed a small splotch of blood on his cheek. Without a word, you reached out, catching his sleeve to stop him momentarily- his eyes flashed down at you, but he allowed it. He watched as you dabbed at the smeared mark with a wet cloth you’d been using to wipe up the counter… Wiping away the evidence of whatever or whoever he’d encountered before coming home.
Releasing his sleeve once his face was clean, you pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his lips, "Last I saw her, she was out in the back garden counting butterflies."
"She called me," he growled, "Said she needed me for 'urgent business."
Your chuckle only darkened his scowl, "I told her, not to use your emergency number unless it was an actual emergency."
"But this IS an emergency!!" A tiny voice piped up from the garden doorway.
There she stood, his five year old daughter, a miniature mirror of himself. Even at her young age, she commanded attention with the same natural authority as her father, though her methods relied more on charm than intimidation.
"Someone stepped on Mr. Squiggles…" she announced, crimson eyes -identical to Sukuna’s- already brimming with tears.
Your heart broke at the sight, and you instinctively moved towards her. However she completely dodged your approaching form, instead running straight to her father, her small flip-flops slapping against the wooden floor.
Sukuna's brow furrowed as he looked down at her, towering over her tiny frame, "Who the fuck is Mr. Squiggles?"
"Language," you murmured, though the truth is you accepted long ago that battling Sukuna’s vocabulary was a losing war.
"My caterpillar!" She whined, grabbing her father’s much larger hand and tugging with surprising strength, "You have to fix him!"
Sukuna’s eye twitched at the fact he was called from what he was doing to come home to this, but still he allowed himself to be led through the kitchen and into the garden. He shot you a look over his shoulder that clearly said, This is what constitutes an emergency?
You merely smiled, following them outside where the morning sun warmed the small garden.
"There!!" She pointed dramatically to a small patch of milkweed where, upon closer inspection, a slightly squashed monarch caterpillar lay motionless…
Sukuna crouched down, his massive frame folding with surprising grace as he examined the tiny creature. His hands -those same hands capable of unspeakable violence, hands that had broken bones and drawn blood without hesitation- hovered with unexpected gentleness over the crushed caterpillar.
"Who stepped on him?" He asked, voice deceptively calm in a way that made you tense slightly.
"It was mama’s helper," she sniffled, wiping a tear from her cheek...
"Mama's helper, huh?" Sukuna growled, his eyes sliding towards you, a dark glint in his gaze, "I'll have a nice little chat with them later, sweetheart."
Sweetheart. The endearment rolled off his tongue in a way that seemed to go against his very nature, but that's precisely how you knew he was serious. When Sukuna used terms of endearment, it meant he would make sure this person paid for making his little girl cry.
His attention turned back to the caterpillar, and he gingerly poked it.
"Can you help him, daddy?" She pleaded, with complete faith in her father’s abilities shining in her bright little eyes, "Make him all better?"
"He’s pretty fucked up" he said bluntly…
"But-" She looked up at him, little hands clutching his sleeve, wrinkling the fabric, "You fix everything… mama told me lots of times how you make everything better!"
Something tightened in Sukuna's chest- that familiar, uncomfortable squeeze that happened whenever his daughter looked at him like he hung the fucking moon. Like he wasn't the same man whose name made certain parts of the city go silent with terror.
"Not everything can be fixed, kid," he said, gentler than most would believe him capable of.
"Mr. Squiggles is hurt pretty badly, sweetie." Your voice was soft as you kneeled beside the two of them, the grass cool against your knees.
Her eyes started to well up again, tears spilling over, "B-but… Daddy makes us better when we get sick… an- and when my tooth fell out… an- an-"
Sukuna gave you a look that asked for backup, but you merely smiled sympathetically, leaving him to navigate this particular minefield alone.
Traitor.
Sukuna's jaw tightened the moment he looked back at his daughter, "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, a muscle working in his cheek as he carefully scooped up the flattened caterpillar onto a leaf, "I’ll try... No promises though."
It was a strange sight, watching Sukuna- this feared and powerful man, gently cradling this little creature in his hand. His expression was stern, yet focused as he brought it close to his face, examining it intently.
"Ah! Thank you, daddy!!" his little girl threw her arms around his neck, nearly toppling him backwards.
"Yeah...," Sukuna murmured, "No problem." His large scarred hand came up to steady her, patting her back with affection that had become less awkward over the years, "Now go get me a box, brat."
She beamed at him, eyes practically sparkling at the use of her favorite nickname before darting off, her footsteps quick and excited.
Sukuna remained crouched over the very much dead caterpillar, feeling rather foolish.
"How's the patient?" You asked, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, kissing the nape of his neck.
"You told her I make everything better?" his tone almost accusatory.
"I mean, you do~" you replied sweetly, and he snorted, turning his head just enough to give you a warning look, which only made you giggle. "Think of all the things you fix and make better. My life is significantly better with you in it,” he rolled his eyes as you continued, “and you fixed that leaky faucet, broken toys, scraped knees… Your motorc-"
"Not dead bugs."
"Mm… Yeah… Well, maybe Mr. Squiggles is just stunned…" You glanced at the small green body still unmoving on the leaf, "I'm sure if anyone can wake him up, it's you."
"It's fucking flattened," he muttered, examining the leaf in his palm.
Your daughter returned with a small pink box lined with fresh leaves, her face scrunched in concentration as she focused on not tripping, "Here, daddy!! The bug hospital!"
She leaned in close, her small hands braced on her father's knee as she watched him place Mr. Squiggles in the box. The contrast between them was striking- his hands scarred and powerful, hers tiny and unmarked. Yet there was no fear in how she pressed against him, no hesitation in how she invaded his space.
"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, voice ever so small and hopeful.
Sukuna's eyes remained fixed on the container, his mouth set in a hard line, "Don't know. Might take him a while to recover."
"So we have to wait?" she sighed, and you smiled at the familiar sound.
Sukuna nodded, and you felt a rush of affection at how patiently he was trying to deal with this.
"Oh..."
Then, without any kind of warning, she looked up at him, "Daddy," she asked with the sudden, left field logic that only children possess, "would you still love me if I was a worm?"
Sukuna went absolutely still, his entire body tensing... The leaf he'd been adjusting tore slightly under the sudden pressure of his fingers. He turned his head slowly to look at his daughter, eyes narrowing as if she'd just asked him a trick question.
"The fuck kind of question is that?" his voice was rough, but his tone lacked any real bite.
She didn't flinch at his harsh tone- she never did. Instead, she just blinked those crimson eyes -so like his own- and repeated herself with the stubborn persistence only a five year old could muster, "If I was like Mr. Squiggles… I- If I got stepped on and turned into a worm. Would you still be my daddy?" her little eyebrows scrunching up in worry.
Shit… It was a serious question.
He ran a hand over his face and then back through his hair, a gesture you recognized all too well… he was thinking, very hard. You'd never seen him so thrown off, and you couldn't help but hide a smile behind your hand.
"Listen," he said finally, setting the box aside and turning to face his daughter fully.
"B-Because, maybe you wouldn't-" a small hiccup interrupted her, "maybe you wouldn't l-love me anymore."
You moved to step in, but Sukuna held up a hand, stopping you. His eyes never leaving his daughter's face, "Look at me," he commanded, his voice low but steady as he dropped to one knee, brining himself to her level.
It was a position he would allow with no one else, an exception he only made for her. "Listen carefully, because i'm only saying this once," his finger hooked under her chin, tilting her face up, "You're mine. My blood. You don't get to escape from that." his tone was deadly serious, the same tone he used when making promises that would be kept regardless of cost. "So," he continued, thumb swiping across her cheek to wipe away a stray tear, "worm or not, you're still my brat. That clear?"
Her red rimmed eyes widened, "Really?"
"Really." taking his thumb from her cheek he lightly flicked her forehead, making her giggle, "And if anyone tried to step on you…"
"You'd protect me?" she leaned against him, arms coming up around his neck, hugging him tightly, "Just like always, right?"
Over her head, his eyes met yours, and something passed between you… "I’d burn this whole damn city to the ground," his words carrying the unmistakable weight of truth, "Anyone who touched you would die screaming."
What should have been horrifying was instead comforting- the absolute certainty that this man, this monster who had chosen to be your protector, the father of your child, would tear apart the world to keep his daughter safe. To keep you both safe.
"I knew it," her tiny voice was muffled against him, "Mama says your heart is bigger than you pretend…" nuzzling into him, she added those three little words that made his throat visibly tighten, "I love you, Daddy." and you saw the moment Sukuna's eyes softened as they did only for you and her.
"Yeah well… Your mother talks too much," he grumbled, his hands moving to throw her over his shoulder.
"Daaaaadddyyyyy" she squealed, tiny legs kicking playfully against him, but there was no real resistance, no fear when he was the one holding her.
Sukuna turned to leave the garden, pausing by your side. His large hand reached out, grabbing a handful of your hair to draw you in with controlled force for a rough kiss. It was his habit- the physical equivalent of an ‘I love you.’
"Love you too," you whispered against his lips.
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Later that night, after Sukuna had tucked his daughter in bed, you found him sitting out in the garden, nursing a glass of alcohol and staring at the pink bug hospital.
You slid onto the bench beside him, and he lifted his arm automatically, allowing you to tuck yourself against his side. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, content in the quiet and each other's warmth.
"I replaced it," he broke the silence first, his voice rumbling in his chest against your ear.
You blinked in confusion as you looked up at him, "Replaced what?"
"The flattened bug. What else? It was dead as shit. Found another on a bush at the edge of the garden."
A small laughed escaped you, "Of course you did."
He shot you a look that was both irritated and slightly embarrassed, "Don't start with me."
You trailed your fingers along the tattoos marking his chest, feeling his heart beat steady beneath your touch. "You know," you murmured, "for someone who claims to care about nothing, you’ve gotten awfully good at caring for everything that’s yours." You pressed your lips to the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse quicken.
"Tch," he clicked his tongue, "fucking ridiculous." he grunted, but his arm tightened around you, "This is what i've been reduced to. Hunting a replacement bug for a five year old..." His expression sobered, "You ever regret it? This life?"
The question surprised you, Sukuna never voiced uncertainty about your relation, ever... "Not for a second," reaching up to caress the mark beneath his eye, "I knew what I was getting into."
He caught your hand, pressing a rare, gentle kiss to your palm, "No you didn't."
"I knew enough," you insisted, "I knew I was in good hands when it came to you, and that's all that mattered."
His eyes, crimson and sharp, searched yours, finding nothing but absolute certainty and trust, "And you're still not afraid?"
"Not of you. Never of you."
He made a sound low in his throat, pulling you into his lap with an ease that still thrilled you to this day. His hands -the same hands that cupped his daughter's face with tenderness, the same hands that would come home time to time stained with blood- framed your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones.
You smiled, leaning into his touch, "And I’ll always be yours, even if you turned into a worm."
A startled laugh escaped him, genuine and unguarded, before he captured your mouth in a kiss, deep and possessive- promising things no words could quite capture and a lifetime of protection.
minsung who saw you on the first day of university — you caught their eye immediately, a new face in the economics lecture. they watched as you scanned the hall with those wide brown eyes, looking for a place to settle but too shy to ask if a seat was taken.
minsung who found you endearing from that first proper glimpse — clad in an oversized hoodie that practically swallowed your form, headphones slung around your neck as you carried a small tower of books out of the library.
minsung who leaned in just to hear your voice again after you answered a difficult econometrics question — your voice was soft and nervous, yet the precision of your answer left the entire room, including them, genuinely impressed.
minsung who made it a mission to finally meet you — so when jisung spotted you tucked away in the library, buried in a thick novel, he didn't hesitate to softly settle down across from you. minho was right behind, quietly taking the seat next to him to study your reaction.
minsung who watched your eyes trail up from the pages as you noticed the movement — you looked up to find jisung’s face split into an adorable gummy smile, while minho acknowledged you with a subtle nod and a soft, tethering gaze.
minsung who watched you slowly process their presence as you set your book down — your lips curled into a flustered smile as your cheeks flushed at the weight of their undivided attention.
minsung who introduced themselves by mentioning you were in the same major — little did they know, you had been thinking about them since the first day, always noticing the two pretty men who shared the second bench in the middle row.
minsung who worked in tandem to make you feel at home — jisung sweetly filled the silence until you felt brave enough to chime in, while minho stayed back, dropping a few witty words here and there as he watched you and jisung get cozy.
minsung who walked you all the way to your dorm, waiting until you were safely inside before heading off. you hurried to your room with a shy smile, falling onto your bed and squealing into your pillow because their company was even better than you had imagined.
minsung who saved you a seat the very next morning, waving you over before you could even look for a spot. as you settled into the corner, jisung rambled about the grading system while minho wordlessly slid a chocolate milk across the desk, remembering your favorite drink from a single mention the day before.
minsung who heard you giggle for the first time when minho made a light joke at jisung’s expense — jisung pouted and crossed his arms, begging you to take his side and you couldn't help but laugh. that's when they both internally swore to keep the jokes coming just to see your eyes crinkle like that again.
minsung who became your absolute best friends, turning every mundane task into a shared memory — they gently coaxed you out of your shell, jisung falling for the way you handled deep conversations and minho falling for the way you’d ramble, eyes bright and hands gesturing, about your latest literary obsession.
minsung who took you to a small, hidden bookstore tucked away in a quiet alley — they knew you’d prefer the shelves of books to a loud campus bar. you spent hours wandering the aisles with them, and at one point, you found jisung sitting on the floor reading a manhwa aloud with dramatic flair while minho stood behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder to see which books you had picked out.
minsung who invited you on a study date to their shared dorm, arranging and cleaning up their room to make it more inviting for you. jisung tidied up the place, air freshner and study supplies while minho arranged for snacks.
minsung who adored you as you shyly enter the dorm, clad in a white shorts and red sweatshirt, carrying all your books. minho moved quickly and took your bag as jisung ushered you into the living room.
minsung who listened to you as you cleared the doubts they had in economics — the room was quiet save for the soft confidence in your voice, and they found themselves more focused on the way your eyes lit up while explaining complex theories than the actual notes in front of them.
minsung who you caught kissing when you were returning from the washroom — the sight of them tangled together, minho’s hand cradling jisung’s jaw with such familiar tenderness, left you momentarily breathless. it wasn't a shock that left you reeling, but rather a quiet, heavy realization that clicked into place when they pulled apart and softly told you they were in a relationship.
minsung who felt your behavior change the moment you sat back down — you became a ghost in your own seat, the air around you turning cold as you suddenly dreaded every second left in the session. you kept your head down, the words of your textbook blurring as you counted the minutes until it was socially acceptable to pack up and escape the suffocating warmth of their domesticity.
minsung who had no idea that their confession had shattered every fragile hope you’d been harboring — they didn't see the way your heart sank at the confirmation that there was no space for you in their perfect, closed circle. to you, their love was a beautiful, solid wall that you were standing on the wrong side of, leaving you feeling like an interloper in a story that was already finished.
minsung who watched you systematically avoid them in the weeks that followed — you started choosing the furthest seat in the lecture hall and stopped showing up to the library until after they’d left. every time they tried to wave you over, you’d offer a tight, pained smile and a lie about a looming deadline, retreating back into the safety of your shell where they couldn't see how much it hurt to be around them.
minsung who eventually reached their breaking point and came to your dorm to confront you — they didn't knock so much as demand entry, crowding into your small room with expressions that were a mix of hurt and fierce determination. minho stood by the door, blocking your exit, while jisung grabbed your hands, his voice trembling as he begged to know what they had done wrong to make you discard them like this.
minsung who held you as you finally spilled your thoughts, the words tumbling out in a messy, tearful confession about your crush — you told them through jagged breaths that you couldn't be "just a friend" while watching them love each other, and that the only way to survive the ache was to stay away.
minsung who exchanged a long, knowing look before pulling you into the space between them — minho’s voice was a low, grounding hum against your temple as he told you they hadn't been looking for a friend, they had been looking for you. they explained that their relationship wasn't a wall, but a foundation they wanted to build a future on with you as the center of it.
minsung who took their time showing you exactly where you fit — minho’s hands were steady as he pulled you closer, his eyes never leaving yours to ensure you were with him every step of the way, while jisung’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you into deep, messy kisses that tasted of salt and relief. the shy introvert was gone, replaced by a girl who was finally being claimed by the two men she loved.
minsung who took off your clothes with a reverent slowness, before discarding their own to reveal the bodies you had only ever dared to imagine from afar — jisung was a beautiful contrast of soft edges and lean, hidden muscle, his skin glowing under the warm dorm lights, while minho stood before you like a sculpture, all broad shoulders, sharp collarbones, and powerful thighs that made your breath hitch.
"don't look away now."
"we want you to see exactly what belongs to you."
minsung who watched your reaction with a mix of pride and raw hunger as your eyes traced the ink on their skin and the way their muscles flexed with every movement — they didn't miss the way your pupils dilated or the way your small, trembling hands reached out instinctively to touch, finally crossing the line between friendship and something much more carnal.
minsung who practically purred when your palms finally met their bare chests — jisung let out a shaky, needy exhale as he leaned into your touch, while minho’s gaze darkened, his hand coming up to cover yours and press it firmer against his heart so you could feel how fast it was beating for you.
"you have no idea how many nights we spent wondering if we’d ever get to feel you like this."
"every time you smiled at us in class, it was torture."
minsung who shared you with a coordinated, hungry rhythm — jisung’s movements were all raw emotion and needy hitches in his breath as he moved against you, while minho provided the deep, grounding weight you craved, his thrusts powerful and purposeful. every touch was a promise, every groan a confirmation that the "variable" had finally found its place in the equation, leaving you spent and cherished in the quiet aftermath of their combined love.
minsung who settled you onto the center of the bed, the mattress dipping under your collective weight as they boxed you in — minho looming over you like a shadow you never wanted to escape, while jisung crawled up beside you, his heat pressing into your side as his hands began an upward journey from your ankles to your thighs.
"you're trembling."
"tell us if it's because you're scared or because you've wanted this as much as we have."
minsung who laid you back against the pillows, the mattress finally yielding to all three of you as they positioned themselves to worship you — minho pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, his gaze dark and fixed on your face, while jisung’s hands finally found what they had been reaching for, his palms cupping your breasts with a reverent squeeze that made your back arch off the sheets.
"shh, just feel us baby."
"you've spent so much time thinking; now you just get to feel."
minsung who didn't give you a moment to catch your breath as they moved lower — jisung’s mouth replaced his hands, his tongue swirling over your skin in a trail of heat that led straight to your core, while minho’s free hand slid down your stomach to find you already drenched and aching for them. when his fingers finally parted you, the sheer sensation of his touch against your hypersensitive clit made a jagged moan rip from your throat, your head tossing back into the pillow.
minsung who watched you unravel beneath them with a pride that was almost frightening — jisung looked up from between your thighs, his lips wet and eyes dark with desire as he watched minho work two fingers inside you, stretching you out while his thumb never stopped its relentless, circular friction.
"you're so ready for us."
"tell minho how much you want him. tell us you want it all."
minsung who finally moved to fill the space they had carved out for you — minho guided them both to your entrance, the dual pressure of them stretching you slowly, deeply, until you felt completely occupied by them. as they both pushed inside your drenched cunt together, the fullness was overwhelming, a sharp, perfect ache that finally silenced the lonely voice in your head.
minsung who began to move in a coordinated, hungry intensity that left you sobbing their names — jisung provided the frantic, needy pace, his hips snapping against yours with every hitch in his breath, while minho stayed steady and deep, his thrusts powerful enough to make your vision blur. you were no longer a spectator or a surplus variable; you were the very axis their world revolved around.
"that's it, sweetheart, take all of us."
"you're ours. in every way that matters, you're finally ours."
minsung who held you through the shattering peak that followed, their combined heat and weight the only things keeping you grounded as the room spun out of focus — they didn't pull away even when the friction turned to a soft, lingering glow, instead staying tangled with you in the quiet dark, proving that the story you thought was finished had actually only just begun.
minsung who shared you with a coordinated, hungry intensity — jisung’s soft moans muffled against your skin as he moved in tandem with minho’s deep, grounding thrusts. the world of economics, textbooks, and silent pining dissolved into a blur of heat and shared breath, every touch proving that you weren't just an addition to their life, but the missing piece they had been hunting for since that very first day.
kysa's note: here's the request i've been working on for so long (lemme know if i served cunt as promised) my fav duo is here, thankyou to the nonnie who requested this !! (hoping i find my minho, amen) hope you like it, leave your thoughts in the comments, xoxo.
a/n: tried to find the gifs that best represent the ideas in my head, most are m/f because it was more fitting to the vibes I was going for, but I also tried to find some good gifs for the masc!readers. all rights to the original owners.
Oikawa Tōru | Aoba Johsai High
Oikawa prefers to give you cheek kisses while holding your body close after a long day of training, always using this as his way of greeting. He does it for two main reasons: firstly, because he thinks its way sweeter to greet you this way than a full-blown kiss; and secondly, because he feels like it replenishes his energy. For him, kissing your soft cheeks after a long day is one of the best things on Earth. If he is awake before you are, he will definitely wake you up by filling your face with the sweetest pecks ever (with a chance of them travelling downward if he knows you have the time for something more than just cuddling).
If asked, Oikawa would say that any kind of kiss is his favourite, as long it is you doing the kissing. In reality, he loves being kissed in his neck or collarbones; especially if it is the highest place you can reach without him bending down. However, be aware that neck kisses do tend to make him horny, even more so if you randomly come up to him during the day and just leave a kiss there. If you do that, don’t expect to be able to simply walk away after pulling a stunt like that, as he will make sure that he gives the attention you clearly need. Considering this, don’t do this in public, as he prefers to keep you all to himself and the privacy of his own home.
“The early morning sun shines through the thin curtains, illuminating the bedroom with soft golden rays, reminding Tōru that, in the haste of last night’s reunion, he had forgotten to close the blinds. But who could blame him, when he had such a beautiful person in his arms after being kept apart for such long and excruciating days? All of it because of the hectic work schedules the both of you maintained, that sometimes forced you to go days or even weeks without being together. This happened more often than you would like, especially when his away games happened on the exact opposite schedule of your work travels, forcing him to go weeks without seeing his love in person and only being able to hear you on the quick calls before bed or see you through pictures taken during the day.
The scene unfolding before him looked exactly like one he had seen in a movie not so long ago, but a hundred times more beautiful: you, sleeping peacefully on his arms, with puffy cheeks and love bites littering your skin. He couldn’t help himself, starting to kiss your soft cheeks and your face as a whole, slowly bringing you back from the dreamland. As you wake up, the feeling of soft pecks being placed in your face makes you smile, coming hand-in-hand with the feeling of love and care that you hold for him.
‘Good morning sweetheart,’ you hear Oikawa say against your hairline, intensifying the feeling that fills your chest. ‘Good morning, my love,’ you answer while placing small kisses against his jaw and neck, drawing a satisfied noise from your husband ‘I want to be woken up like this every morning, please,’ you say against the delicate skin of his neck, basking in the fading scent of his cologne.
‘Whatever your heart desires, my dear. Anything for the love of my life,’ he answers, locking eyes with you and showing that gorgeous smile of his, prettier than the whole sky. Being forced to go so long without seeing each other would never make the feeling that blooms in your chest dwindle, but on the contrary, as each reunion seemed to make your love soar even higher.”
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Kita Shinsuke | Inarizaki High
Kita is the biggest defender of forehead kisses, especially being someone rather shy regarding physical affection. It’s an easier way for him to kiss you if there is someone else close by, as he never wants to leave you feeling unloved by him, even more so if your love language is physical touch. He will always leave a quick kiss on your hairline when you hug, because he is a man of habits after all. When your relationship gets more serious and you start sharing a bed, forehead kisses are the most essential part of the bedtime routine, and Kita will not be sleeping without giving them.
He loves when you give him slow kisses, that kind of kiss that has you smiling during it, with a real possibility of turning into a full make out session very fast if you’re not careful enough. But those kisses are reserved for him and for him only, so if his friends or siblings are anywhere close to you, he will not let it get too far, as he prefers to keep those aspects of his life private (and it’s got nothing to do with the fact that some people would never let him live that down). If someone accidentally walks in you kissing, they will be getting the meanest look he can muster, as he values your privacy above everything else.
“Cooking had always been a pleasant thing to be done, even when you were a teenager, still living with your parents. But right now, being able to cook dinner for you and your husband, in your own kitchen and with him by your side? There is no place in the world you would rather be, even if for some people this moment would feel like labour instead of an enjoyable thing.
As both of you work towards finishing the meal you just prepared and, simultaneously, cleaning the kitchen, there is a warm glow flooding the room and the soft chirping of the cicadas outside, creating an atmosphere that engulfs both of you in a bubble where this moment is the only thing happening. There are no worries about jobs, payments or people that you have been meaning to call back, there is just the two of you and your shared loved and devotion.
Allowing this peace to settle over you, Shin turns off the stove and pulls you in for a hug. As both of you become comfortable in this position, he starts swaying from side to side, which slowly morphs into a slow dance. It’s in this moments of relaxation after a long day that you can fully enjoy each other’s presence and talk about the most personal aspects of your life and relationship. However, in this moment, you allow the silence to take over the moment, with the only sounds being the ones that originate from the outside.
Looking into Shin’s eyes and seeing the absolute love that is present in them, fills you with the need of being even closer to him, and that is what makes you pull him into a slow and languid kiss. The action makes the two of you stop dancing and start simply enjoying the closeness between your bodies, with the languid caress of your tongues stirring a heat deep inside of you, which makes Shin pull you even closer, while guiding you towards the counter at the same time. As you touch the counter, you feel Shin nudging your thighs, prompting you to hop on top of it and allowing him to stand in between your legs, bringing your bodies even closer while never breaking the kiss.”
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Bokuto Kōtarō | Fukurodani Academy
Bokuto has a cute, but slightly weird, preference for nose kisses and considers them the best energiser that is available on the market. He will request them before leaving the house for anything, but they’re the most important part of his pre-game routine. If he’s away on a game or tournament, he will video call you as close to game time as possible, just so that you can send him some nose kisses from wherever you are. When you are in bed, ready to go to sleep or having just woken up, with soft eyes and relaxed muscles, these are the kind of kisses that are exchanged by the two of you. When something upsets Bokuto and gets him on a bad mood, filling his face with kisses and finishing with a nose kiss will make it better. (Bonus points if you give him a playful bite instead of the standard kiss, you will have him laughing in no time).
There are two type of kisses that Bokuto considers his favourites to give, and that varies with the occasion. If you are in public, he will pull you into his side and kiss your temple, especially if he feels that you’re nervous or uncomfortable in that situation, as it’s his way of showing you that he’s by your side, no matter what. But if you are at home and by yourself, he will be either laying on your lap or half on top of you, being the best weighted blanket that there is, just so he can place small kisses in your belly and thighs, especially if you carry some weight in those areas. (He is a big man and some stretch marks or some extra meat are not going to scare him off.)
“Kōtarō had taken you to the gym with him today, even if the weather was insanely hot and humid and all you wanted was to lay around in a cool room. You only went with him because Kou training is an amazing view, which you had the right, and the desire, to see it happen first-hand.
While Kou started setting up for his training, which is catered to his needs as a professional athlete, you went to the loft area of the gym, where the space is more open and there are mats available, to get started on warming up. You do a few stretches, focusing in the areas that feel tighter and staying careful as not to push yourself further than your body will allow you.
As you finished up with your stretches and started making your way down to the main floor, you saw Kou starting his training in front of the mirrors. Considering that the weather is truly too hot for training and it’s the middle of the afternoon, there aren’t many people in the gym. Taking this as a sign, you make your way to where your dear husband is now finishing a set and lean against the bench where he is sitting. ‘Hey beautiful, what brings you here, on this fine summer day?’ you joke, knowing that he loves to flirt as if you haven’t been married for some time already. ‘Hello sweet thing, finished with your warm up already?’ he asks, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror.
‘Yes, decided to stop by and give you a kiss. You will need the energy for the work out, after all,’ you purred, leaning closer to his face. He looks directly at you after hearing that, clearly expecting more than the peck you leave on the tip of his nose. Seeing the confusion on his face, you point to the sign on the wall that clearly states ‘Please, refrain from overly romantic gestures that might make other people uncomfortable.’ He pouts, but simply places a kiss on your temple and starts his next set, after you promise that he will get all the kisses he might want at home.”
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Kuroo Tetsurō | Nekoma High
Kuroo loves teasing you almost as much as he loves you, which means that he will either pretend to kiss you only to end up simply talking to you really close to your face or moving his face to the side so that you end up kissing his cheek instead of his lips. This persona bleeds into his favourite way of kissing you: neck kisses. You could be folding a load of laundry, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, when suddenly there’s a kiss being plastered in the most sensitive part of your neck. In bed, that becomes even more apparent, with him slotting his face against your neck the whole time you are having sex, including before and after, but only leaving a mark if you allow him.
Even if he wants to keep his cool guy façade in front of his friends and colleagues, Kuroo is a lover boy through and through. His favourite type of kisses? Forehead kisses. Very soft, very loving and fills him with the courage to do almost anything in the world, with some very few exceptions. If he has a big presentation or an important meeting at work, he will ask for more kisses than usual before he leaves, claiming that “I need the extra luck today, love”. When you are out of the house, wether in the market or having dinner at a fancy restaurant, giving him a kiss will make him blush and lose any line of thought, turning your dear husband into a very sweet boy, reminding you of those early dating days.
“You were getting ready for work in your room while Tetsu showered in a rush, being late for work after insisting that you cuddle with him for ‘just five more minutes, love’, that ended up turning into 15 minutes of laying around while you should be getting ready for work. Seeing that he only has 5 minutes before really needing to leave the house so he doesn’t miss the train, you go to the kitchen and finish packing his lunch and checking that everything he usually takes to work is inside his work bag.
As you finish checking his bag, Tetsu comes running down the hallway, grabbing his stuff from the kitchen table and going straight to the door, only stopping to put his shoes and coat on. While that happens, you stay right beside the table, shocked to see him in such a rush, an exact opposite of the man that was in your bed twenty minutes ago. When you see that he’s about to leave, you move closer to the door, planning on giving his goodbye kiss, but Tetsurō is already out of the door before you can even try to kiss him.
You know that wallowing in the ugly feeling that blooms in your chest won’t do you any good, and the logical side of your brain knows that your husband didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, as he was simply in a rush to get to work, especially considering he has an important client meeting. Still, none of this makes you feel better, and you are in a bad mood for the rest of the day, even if you know that you’re being dramatic.
What you failed to consider was that, inside the JVA building, Tetsu was pacing around his office, replaying the moments before he left the house repeatedly in his head. He felt extremely guilty for leaving without giving you a single kiss, especially knowing that he was the one at fault, both for being late and for leaving in such a way. With this feeling gnawing on his chest, he decides that the best way to plead for your forgiveness is in person, so he simply texts you ‘Have a good day at work dear, love you lots <3’.”
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Sawamura Daichi | Karasuno High
Sawamura is a lover in mind and spirit, and this characteristic of his can be seen on every action and decision he takes. A man so full of love, both romantic and platonic, will always make sure that everyone around him feels loved and cared for. This translates very well into his kissing preferences, which turns out to be the classic sign of love between two people: the traditional kiss on the mouth. It can be as shy or as steamy as needed, depending on the occasion and the level of privacy in the moment. If you are in public, and he’s saying hello or goodbye to you, a peck on the lips will suffice. But if it’s date night, and you are looking cuter and hotter than usual, the only kiss that will settle him down enough to make it through is one so passionate that, if you wear makeup, can only happen before you’re fully ready to go out. He also considers it the best kind of kissing because he can pour all of his feeling for you into it, from devotion to jealousy, most things can be expressed through a kiss. He is reserved most of the time, and his affection for you isn't an exception to this rule. However, if he gets jealous because someone said something to you or is looking in a weird way, he will pull you in for a deep kiss in front of them, because he is respectful, but he is also territorial when it comes to you and your relationship.
“You had been married to Daichi for a few years already, having gotten married less than a year after finishing high school. According to him, there was no need to wait to get married when both of you knew that this relationship was your endgame, and you had agreed wholeheartedly. With that, you went to college being Sawamura-san, pursuing your degree while your husband worked hard at the police academy.
Currently, you both had stable careers and lived in a nice apartment, but you still felt as something was lacking from your lives. You knew that Daichi was the oldest out of five children and you had seen him interact with plenty of children before, so you had no concerns of him being good with children or liking them. However, you had never talked about having children of your own, always focusing in your careers and being financially stable.
This is what makes your current predicament so jarring: your IUD was expired, you weren’t using condoms for obvious reasons and you were late. But you weren’t a week late, you were a whole month late. Which left you with two options: either you bought a pharmacy test or you scheduled a doctor’s appointment. After calling the office and finding out that, you would need to wait two more weeks before they could see you, you decided that the pharmacy test was your best choice.
You arrive home a bit earlier than usual, just so you could take the test before Daichi got back. Sprinting to the bathroom, you already thank yourself for drinking so much water through the whole afternoon. As you wait for the results, you hear the dreaded sound of the front door opening, signalling that Daichi is home. ‘Love, are you home already?’ he calls, worry bleeding into his voice, as you’re hardly ever home before him. ‘Yes dear, in the bathroom,’ you answer, knowing that, deep down, there’s no reason to be scared of his reaction. As you hear him approaching, you look at the result on the test.
Positive… You are pregnant…
‘What happened, love? May I come in?’ He’s clearly worried now, but you can’t seem to find the words to answer him at the moment, so you simply pull the door open and throw yourself into his arms. ‘Hey, what is the matter? Are you crying? Is that a pregnancy test in your hand? Love, I’m at a loss here, please talk to me…’
‘Ye-yes, it is. We are parents, Dai,’ you answer, trying to hold back tears ‘I know we never tal…’ you get interrupted halfway through by the most passionate kiss, finally letting all of those emotions free. ‘I am so happy, my love.’”
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Ushijima Wakatoshi | Shiratorizawa Academy
Ushijima is a stoic man and tends to keep to himself when in the presence of people who he doesn’t know very well, but that is a part of his personality that is reserved only for the public eye. In the privacy of your relationship, he is extremely open about his feelings and his thoughts, to the point that you can read him like an open book even if he doesn’t actually say anything. He considers communication the most important pillar of a relationship, and that a small miscommunication can lead to it all crumbling even if there is love from both sides. With that in mind, he will talk to you about PDA so that you two can agree on what feels most comfortable for the both of you, which probably ends up being forehead kisses. Ushijima is a tall man, so it is a place that is easy for him to reach and doesn’t attract an enormous amount of attention to what you are doing. In private, he will make sure to worship you and the ground you walk on, meaning that no part of your body will go without attention. However, the inside of your thighs will be getting the most attention, and he will cover them in love bites constantly.
Ushijima was raised in a household where affection was something rare, only reserved for sparse moments behind closed doors, not exactly something that was present on his daily life, and became even sparser after his parents divorced. Because of his upbringing, he is not used to showing affection in front of other people, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to get used to it, even more so because he would never want you to feel like he is ashamed of you or anything similar to that. However, he is very affectionate in private and wants you to be comfortable enough to reciprocate that energy, especially if you had a similar approach to affection before you got together. Considering that, any kiss that comes from you will be his favourite, as long as you didn’t feel pressured into it, but he does have a slight preference for kisses close to his jawline.
“There is nothing Wakatoshi loves more than spoiling you. He has a refined taste for the finer things in life, particularly when it comes to fashion, and he loves it even more when those items are for you. While some might say he spends far too much of his salary on you, he would completely disagree. He loves you, and that translates into getting you anything you desire, from clothes to shoes to jewellery; you mention it once and, the next time he gifts you something, he will make use of that knowledge. However, there is one thing he will use to surprise you, as he knows you would feel too shy telling him about that kind of desire, and that is lingerie. He will always choose the most delicate silk and the softest lace for those purchases, always prioritising your comfort over anything else.
Today was one of those days, with your husband returning home after a week away and bringing with him one of his traditional gifts. This one came from your favourite brand, the one that made the most perfect lingerie you had haver worn. It was delicate and sexy at the same time, hugging your frame and bringing out your best features.
While your husband showers in the master bathroom, you get changed into the beautiful set he chose this time. It’s a deep royal blue, fully made out of lace, that leaves next to nothing to the imagination. You notice that there is a garter belt in the set but no stockings to pair with them, so you get one from the closet, knowing that it will tie the look together.
As you clip the last stocking in place, Wakatoshi leaves the bathroom and approaches you, with a towel around his waist and droplets of water running down his chiselled chest. When you feel the heat that emanates from his body get close to you, you turn around and drape your arms around his neck at the same time as his hands come to rest in your waist. You use the height difference to your advantage and start laying kisses close to his jawline, knowing that it’s his favourite placement and building a sensual atmosphere in the room, watching for the tell-tale signs of pleasure that make themselves known on his body.
‘We might have been apart from each other longer than we wished for, but just know that I will never leave your side, as I will always live right here’ he says, laying a hand over your heart, easing the worries that try to seep into your head when he is away, turning the sensual moment into something softer and full of emotion.”
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Daishō Suguru | Nohebi Academy
Daishō is man that like to upkeep a certain personality in public, always wanting to be the coolest guy in the room with the hottest partner, which means that he loves showing off, especially in front of people that don’t really know him. He is very needy when it comes to your attention, however, to keep his facade, he has learned to communicate his feelings through a simple look and, in turn, you pretend to be the one asking for a kiss or two. Considering his desire to show you off, any PDA would make him very pleased, but a standard kiss would certainly be his favourite, because it doesn’t leave any space for people to assume what kind of relationship you two have. If you’re uncomfortable with more passionate kisses in public, a peck or a kiss without tongue will make him just as happy as any other kind of kiss, as he doesn’t want you to feel pressured into doing something just to stroke his ego. In those private moments shared between just you, he will fill your face and anywhere he can reach with kisses, as a way of showing his gratitude and devotion to you. If you’re busy with something, that will make it even more interesting for him, especially as he watches you try to squirm away from him. However, if you decide to turn the tables and do the same thing with him, you will have a very pliant Daishō in your hands, as he does love to bask in any kind of affection you give him and will melt into a puddle from the softest kisses.
“If there was a withstanding tradition in your household, it was the Sunday Market one. In the early days of your relationship with Suguru, you two used to go to the market that happened a few streets down from your childhood home, the one where your mother still buys all her produce to this day. However, as your life progressed, you two moved in together and away from the small neighbourhood, having to leave behind the small market that was part of your relationship.
After a few months of living in a new area of the city, you found out that there was a very similar market pretty close to your new apartment, which meant that the tradition could keep going. Because of that, you and your husband were currently heading down the street, in the direction of your favourite place in the neighbourhood. As you enjoyed the view, Suguru was gushing about the new recipe he wanted to try and all the ingredients that he needed for it, talking about how fresh and healthy they were going to be and how nice the dinner you would share later. When your husband suddenly became quiet and stopped walking altogether, your body also came to a halt and looked around, trying to find the reason for the sudden change in attitude from Suguru.
At the other side of the street, was standing a couple you never thought would happen, not even in your weirdest dreams: your old partner, hand-in-hand with Suguru’s ex-girlfriend, Yamaka-san. Sensing that your husband was also shocked about the discovery, you tugged his body closer to yours, as a way of pulling him out of the trance and stop staring at them. As he looks your way, you gently touch his face, making the best kiss me eyes you can muster and hoping that he gets the hint.
Suguru, being the cheeky man he is, clearly had the same idea as you, pulling you even closer and into a searing hot kiss, one that could make even the most cold-hearted person feel the love you two share from a mile away. As you pull away and look back at the other side of the street, you find them gone and a sense of pride fills your chest, all due to the fact that you felt confident enough to show your love in such a public way and to lay your claim on him all over again. It might have been childish to do so in front of someone form your past, but you know that doing such a thing in public matters a lot to him.”
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Futakuchi Kenji | Date Tech High
Futakuchi’s love language is definitely physical touch. He loves hugging, kissing, cuddling and everything else that is included in the package, so it isn’t a surprise when he looks like he is about to beg for a kiss. His usually cocky demeanour gives space to puppy eyes and pouty lips, which leaves no space for arguing. As to which kiss is his favourite, he loves the sweet pecks you leave all over his face, especially as a good luck token or before going to sleep. He feels all of his worries and anxiety leaving his body in the same rate as you leave kisses on his face, especially the ones close to his eyelids, as they’re the most delicate out all of them. He does have a naughtier side to his personality, and with that comes his love for languid kisses. The kind of kiss that leaves you torn between wanting more and not wanting to stop so you can move positions or shed some clothing. He loves to tease you with very slow kisses, pulling back when you try to deepen them just to see if you will run after him.
He is a big believer that affection needs to be reciprocated in the way the person in the receiving end desires. If you two have matching love languages, he is going to think it is awesome and will lather you in kisses. But if you have another way of feeling loved, he will go the extra mile to fulfil your desires and make sure you feel loved and cared for. But, either way, just as he loves being covered in kisses, he loves doing the same for you. He will make sure that he finds your most sensitive spots every time, as he loves having you squirming in his hold, be under or on top of him. He does this not to be mean, but on the contrary, he wants to hear you laugh until you lose your breath and your belly hurts. The moments when he has you laughing in his arms are the best ones in his day, it’s when he feels recharged and free from the weight on his shoulders.
“It was another lazy saturday afternoon in the Futakuchi household, with the blazing summer heat making every movement feel heavy, forcing both you and your husband to stay inside the house. Even with the insane temperatures, Kenji insists on touching you, laying his body on top of yours while you pretend to pay attention to whatever movie is currently playing on the TV.
As you start to overheat with the added body heat on top of you, small pecks start being placed on the side of your face. They start innocent, so you allow Kenji to follow along with his ministrations, even if you both know that he is supposed to being punished right now, thanks to the stunt he pulled a few days ago.
‘You know that I’m not a kid any more, right? I can make this decision by myself, without you meddling in my life. You are not my parent,’ he had said when you tried to give your opinion over a matter that had been bothering for literal weeks already. You two had managed to talk it out and figure a way to solve his dilemma with your help while not taking his autonomy away, as it was never something you planned on doing either way. However, that doesn’t mean you forgot what he said about you not being his parent, considering the things he calls you in bed.
As you feel the kisses start to travel lower, you decide to test a theory you had developed over the day. ‘Is my baby feeling needy today? Does he need me to take care of him?’, as the words leave your mouth, you feel his body melt on top of yours, his erection very evident through the soft fabric of his shorts. As his breath becomes heavier, comes the answer you had been waiting for: ‘Yes momma, need you to touch me, pretty please,’ he says with a whine, his pouty lips and shiny eyes could leave even the strongest person weak at the knees.
You used the opportunity to tease your husband, ‘You want momma to touch you? Is that right baby? But I thought I was your spouse and not your parent.’ Hearing this, he whined and started apologising for what he had said in the heat of the moment, pleading for your forgiveness and downright begging for your touch, which you would never deny him of, as you just wanted to hear him plead and beg for you to touch him for a little while. As a way to end his suffering, you pulled him into a searing kiss, effectively shutting him up and leading to a better place, where he could just be momma’s baby.”
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Iizuna Tsukasa | Itachiyama Institute
Iizuna is a very sweet and loving partner in public and in private, never being shy or ashamed of showing his affection for you in front of his peers and family. He will pull you close and kiss your forehead if he thinks you’re feeling tired or sad. If you run up to him, he will drop anything he is doing and pull you in for a long kiss. When you are in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, he will hug you from behind and leave kisses in your nape. It doesn’t really matter what you are doing or where you are, you will be getting your daily dose of kisses from Iizuna. His friends like to tease him and call him clingy, but he will never deny those accusations, especially because he worships the ground you walk on, so it is simply logical that he is clingy to the love of his life.
In the same way as he loves to shower you with attention, he also loves to be the centre of your attention. He doesn’t really care about the kind of kiss, as long as he is getting them any time he wishes, which it turns out to be all day, every day. Call him a drama queen if you wish, but not getting enough kisses from you will lead to him being in a sour mood for the rest of the day. At the end of the day, if you come home to a cranky husband, all you need to do is hold him close and kiss him until you are both out of breath. That will magically give you your sunny Iizuna back. He will tell everybody that dares to ask that he does not have a favourite kiss, as you are his favourite person and, because of that, anything that you do will be his favourite. But, deep down, you that there is a kind of kiss that will get you anything you want, and that is an earlobe kiss. It is very unconventional, but it will have him folding for you no matter what. If there is a sensitive spot in Iizuna’s body, that will be it. You can visibly see the shivers running through his body the second your breath touches it.
“This all feels like a fever dream. It’s Valentines day, and your husband is taking you to the most sought out restaurant in the entire Tokyo. He only told you the name of the place after you downright begged him, with the excuse that you needed to know so you could choose your outfit for the amazing date night he clearly had planned.
As the weather is still on the colder side, you favour clothes that will keep you warm over the more fashionable options you had on your wardrobe. That does not mean you will look out of place at the restaurant, but simply like a mature adult that knows how to dress accordingly to the weather.
Once you finish getting ready, you head to the bathroom where Tsukasa is making his final touches to his hairstyle. Approaching him from behind, you weave your hands around his waist, pulling him into a warm embrace, and laying your head on his shoulder so you can look at him in the mirror. ‘Looking really good today, husband,’ you whisper in his ear, leaving a small kiss in his earlobe on the process. ‘And you look prettier by the minute, my dear. How is that possible?’ he answers with a shudder, as you just kissed his soft spot.
Just as you go to answer him, he turns around in your hold and pulls you in for a kiss, that slowly transforms into a make out session in the middle of your bathroom. His hands, calloused from playing volleyball, caress your whole body, leaving a burning trail where they pass and making that molten fire in your core stir back to life. In a similar fashion, your hands also roam his body, tracing the hard planes of his chest and the dip of his waist, grabbing every part you could and trying to not leave a single part of him untouched.
When you need to pull apart to be able to breathe again, Tsukasa checks his watch and realises that it is time to leave the house, not wanting to be late to your reservation. With a last peck to your lips, he begins to guide you to the car, with the promise to finish what you started after your date is done and you are both back to the comfort of your home. Even if you can’t wait to be back, you also want to enjoy this night in the fullest.”
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Meian Shūgo | MSBY Black Jackals
Meian has a different view of relationships than most people, as he believes that small affections mean more than the big and showy acts most people do to express their feelings. His love is weaved in the way he always makes your breakfast, or in the way that he always makes sure that you have everything that you need for the day, always setting you up for success. This behaviour also translates into the way he shows affection, with a small kiss to your cheek before you leave for work, a warm hug while you cook or a simple peck placed on the back of your neck while you cuddle in bed before falling asleep. This does not mean that his love for you is small, but on the contrary, he loves you so much that he has the need to break his affection into those little acts during the day, because if they start to pile up in his chest, he fears he might suffocate with too much affection by the end of the day.
Meian adores receiving any kind of kiss, but having his hands, calloused from years of strenuous training and playing volleyball, kissed by your soft lips after a long day of training or a particular hard game will have him feeling like the most loved man on Earth. The pure adoration that you pour into this small act has the ability to bring out the deepest emotions that live inside his chest, and it was in a moment like this that he had the realisation that he either would marry you and live his happy ever after, or he would live a very bitter and regretful life. The first time you did it again after he had this realisation, he jokingly asked you to marry him, and, after you accepted it, he said that your surprise would only be the ring you were getting, because you were already engaged, no matter what society might expect from a proposal.
“Being married to a professional athlete was never the easiest thing in the world, with being forced to be apart for many days at a time, only seeing each other on early mornings and late nights during the season and all the preparation that was involved in maintaining his body in its best condition. But the best part of it all is certainly this: watching him lead his team to the most sought after game of the entire season: the final game of The Cup.
Many years of hard work, since his teenager years, allowed your husband to get closer than ever to his dream, and if things kept moving the way they currently were, he would be able to achieve it tonight: winning The Cup. Sitting on the bleachers alongside the others member’s families, you could sense that everybody had the same feeling as you, especially with the game being 12-9 on its fifth set, favouring the Jackals.
As the game neared its end, a man wearing the team’s jacket approached you and some of the guys’ partners that were sitting close to you, informing that the coach had called all of you to be courtside during the award ceremony, especially those who were married and/or had kids with the players.
As the game comes to an end, the stadium erupts in cheers for the Jackals, celebrating the win at the same time as you and many others make their way to their husbands and boyfriends, who currently are in the middle of the court, commemorating this milestone all together.
The moment that you locked eyes with your husband, everything else came to a stop, as the world seemed to slow down and the people around you became colourful blurs. You both approached each other at the same time, with Shūgo pulling you into the most passionate and emotional kiss you two had ever shared, even more than the ones in your wedding day. This moment might be a milestone in his career, but it was a dream you two shared since the beginnings of your relationship. As the team cheered around you, the fact that they knew your husband was a very private man came to mind, and it made the moment you were living even more special.”
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Terushima Yūji | Johzenji High
Terushima has a tongue piercing, and this fact has been wildly known by every single person that went to high school around the same time as him. What they don’t know is the fact that he only got it pierced after you mentioned that you wanted to find out how it felt to kiss someone that had a piercing while you two where just friends. When you finally started dating, the first thing Terushima asked after your first kiss was “Did you like it? The piercing?”, with that lopsided grin of his. Taking this into consideration, his favourite kind of kiss will always be the ones that have his tongue involved, just so he can use his favourite accessory on his favourite person. That doesn’t mean that kissing you is the only use to the piercing that he can think of, but it’s the most common use he has for it.
Being a softie at heart, means Terushima just loves to be cuddled and pampered, and being showered in your kisses after a long day is everything his heart desires, even more so after spending most of his day on his feet at the salon. His favourite after-dinner activity with you is definitely a work-day debrief, with you sitting with your legs on his lap while he tells you all about how one of his clients is getting married to her friend’s brother while other is getting divorced after his husband found out he had dated a famous guy 20 years ago. You listen to him intently, leaving kisses on his shoulder and arm every now and then, while also providing some very meaningful commentary on all the weird things that happens on others peoples lives and sharing what happened on your work day. One might say it’s not right to talk about others peoples lives, but when your work is deeply attached to listening to other people vent about their personal problems, the line between gossip and telling your partner about your day becomes extremely thin.
“You had always liked dyeing your hair since you were a teenager, and so did Yūji, so it was no surprise that, with him becoming an apprentice hairstylist, your dates would involve retouching your roots every few weeks. It is a very nice way to spend time with your husband, doing something so intimate and in the privacy of your small bathroom, constantly brushing against each other while trying to not stain the entire bathroom with the hair dye or toner you decided to use this time.
Your current predicament was certainly something straight out of a comedy: Yūji sitting on a small stool and with most parts of his hair tied in pigtails so it would stay out of the way, while you stood behind him with a small bowl of dye, trying to understand how exactly you were supposed to apply it without leaving streaks of uncoloured hair or too saturated with dye. Knowing that your husband trusted you to do his hair, something that would affect how his clients perceived him and his ability, left you even more anxious than normal.
Sensing the uneasiness bleeding off of you, he turned around to hug your legs, as it was the place he was able to reach in this position, and looked up to you with the cutest pout and puppy eyes combo you had ever seen someone make. ‘What’s the matter love? You’re doing such a good job,’he said, clearly trying to sooth your nerves. It worked to an extent, removing some of the weight on your shoulders, but not all of it. ‘Am scared of messing it up, don’t want to make you look silly,’ you answered, not meeting his gaze.
‘You’re not going to mess up, love. And even if you did, I could always rock a buzz cut for a few days,’ he said, lightening up the mood with his jokes while also dissolving your worries. ‘Should we cut the chase and just buzz it right now? We could draw some cheetah print to make a statement,’ you joked back, relaxing into his hold and finally looking in his eyes, which made you pause. The pure love and admiration that you saw in his eyes left you emotional, especially for seeing it in such a raw and unfiltered way.
Placing the bowl back on the counter top, you leaned down to kiss him with all your might, trying to show him how much you loved him without using words. By the way he hugged you even tighter and kissed you back with such fervour, you knew that he got your message and was responding on the same intensity. With such amount of emotion taking over both of you, you ended up hugging on the bathroom floor, but there was nowhere on the world you rather be.”
the new ballet season is upcoming and you've been selected to play both the pure white swan and the lustful black swan. you were the perfect white swan. pristine, pure, perfect. but when your strict ballet instructor guides you down a tainted path to fulfill your dual role as the black swan— just how far are you willing to go to gain his approval? how deep are you willing to let him drag you into hell for the sake of perfection? and most of all: how desperate are you to keep his attention on only you?
⌗ wc :: 1.6k
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. ballet au :: angst :: smut :: toxic dynamics :: age gap ( 40s / 20s ) :: violence :: blood :: murder :: corruption :: purity fixation :: unhealthy beauty standards :: obsession :: manipulation :: jealousy :: f.masturbation :: semi-public sex :: fingering :: rough sex :: degradation :: choking :: sukuna is very touchy & creepy :: rival!yorozu :: inspired by 2010's black swan
♡ ₊˚‧ sweetheart. this series was commissioned by @delicatedahlias <3 thank you cutie!
She wasn't perfect, but that was what made her marvellous.
She took to the stage in a fractured, aflickering sway. Erratic in every assemblé. Volatile in each tour en l'air.
Stained, sinful, subpolished.
And in that imperfect, flawed fracture, birthed the black swan.
The perfect, black swan. Yorozu.
She was new in town, from what the other ballerinas said. You only caught a glimpse of her overkill dark eyeshadow in the vanity room.
Now, you met her intimately.
As she let the music flow through her veins and swished in a violent choreography. Just for fun, she insisted to the girls, when she chose to show off her performance as Odile.
Her dark hair whipped through the dim studio. As fierce as her face that commanded the rhythm. The role. The respect.
The attention of Sukuna, it seemed.
You picked at your nails. A useless effort to qualm yourself from peeping at your gruff instructor.
Now smiling.
The music ceased, and Yorozu bowed her head. A dark beauty acting bashful to the praises sung by the other girls.
Three loud claps burst your heart at the seams as Sukuna stepped forward. The creases at the corners of his eyes crinkled.
If it weren't for his voice, you would have thought you were dreaming.
"Now that, is the encapsulation of the black swan." He circled Yorozu who perched her chin high. She stood tall even against him.
"Thanks, Mister Ryomen."
Even her voice was dark silk. Effortless, even when faced with a storm. Why should she fear when she was lightning?
"I almost forgot what having a ballerina who's not stiff felt like." He said, not bothering to hide his stare that daggered through you.
Your lungs bunched together and your hands clasped tight.
You did not protest.
You never did.
Sukuna turned back to the bewitching Yorozu. Entranced by her, as the prince was by Odile.
Only, this was more than a trance. It was favour. A concept now foreign to you.
"Maybe you would do better as our black swan."
Not a beat was missed in his voice. Controlled, crystalled.
And yet you were the one shattering.
"Mister Ryomen—" you stepped forward on shaky knees. Chin raised in the way he always urged you to keep.
Your spurt of confidence drowned the second his stare stabbed onto yours.
As it always did.
"What?" He spoke. Too smooth for a man who threatened your dreams in the palms of his calloused hands. "Problem?"
"I—" your throat cramped. Words turning to bile, turning to babbles.
"That. I am. I'm the Swan Queen." You mustered.
"You're also replaceable."
The scoff bit into your resolve. Your knees trembled under the weight of eyes from every corner of the dim room.
You focused on the mirror.
Saw your mother.
Saw yourself.
Saw Yorozu, smiling at you.
You could only clear your throat. Bow your head, like the submissive girl you were. Your wings folded and feathers drooped.
Sukuna rolled his eyes. Hands cupping Yorozu's shoulders from behind.
You wanted to scratch yours for not earning his touch.
"Nothing's set in stone. So we'll play it by ear," he said.
It splintered you. The fact that at any moment, your dreams would be trampled under his boots.
All because you weren't his perfect.
"You." He shot.
You stood straight. Hungry for any attention. Even if it was his glare and his grunt.
"My office. This afternoon."
He always told you to take what you wanted.
With your hands clawed and your teeth bared. He encouraged you, an angel, to be an animal.
A stray, was what you felt like as you stood in his office. The one that mocked your every flaw and weeded out insecurity from your pores. On these floors with tiles too small for your feet to stand between the cracks.
The smile on Sukuna's lips had long since vanished. All he held for you was scorn.
"Gorgeous, wasn't she?" He asked from his spot at his grand window, as if asking about the clouds that gloomed the skies.
They mirrored the storm shrouding your soul.
"Who?" You feigned. If you pretended, perhaps it would make it a dream.
His voice blading the air was your reality check.
"The new Swan Queen, of course."
Your nails dented your palms. Cupped in front of you, as always.
"You said that I was the Swan Queen." Your words were delicate. One crack away from a shatter.
He threw the final stone with pride, "I said that you did better than the rest. By default, the role had to be yours."
Your nerves froze as Sukuna turned to you. Brows slanted like the dagger of his glare that sought to carve into your sweet heart.
"Yorozu on the other hand is exceptional."
"I can be exceptional."
"Can you?"
His scoff came with a chuckle this time. The first time you made him smile, and it was hardly affectionate.
Mockery soaked into you.
The room tilted as Sukuna approached you. His shadow consumed you, but his stare commanded yours. No matter how much you wanted to shrivel in the corner beside the bookshelf, you listened.
You always did to authority.
"Tell me."
He stood before you. Height and prowess nailing your aching feet to the floorboards.
You held your chin high. As high as you could when he made you feel smaller than an ant beneath his boot.
Sukuna loomed above you. Close.
Closer than you should have let him.
"How bad do you want it?"
He always touched your cheekbone in these quiet moments when no one was looking. His rough knuckle traced over the curve.
Your breath hitched, "what?"
"I always tell you to take what you want. The black swan role is for someone who can do that. Someone bold. So, tell me. Convince me."
His face invaded yours.
His hand cupped your jaw.
His voice.
A whisper lulling to the darkness misting around your soul.
"How bad do you want it?"
He kissed you.
Lips rough, glass, that cut into your mouth and bled your gasp into his.
His large hand cramped your face. Forearm shoved above your head. Suffocating you in this reality turned nightmare.
You had never kissed a man before.
Sukuna's kiss was a crippling cruelty. Gnashing. Bitter. Reaching down your throat and tucking his corruption into your stomach lining.
Your mother's screams harrowed your mind. Jerking your body into a squirm.
Your teeth tore into his lip.
Like the animal he wanted you to be.
You had managed to catch him off guard. Shove him off. Your last sight was the glint of red on his lips in your peripheral as you scurried to the door.
His kiss hot on your lips.
His rot creeping into your stomach.
"I'm sorry, mama."
For the third time that afternoon, those words shook from you.
Your feet ached under the weight of brutal hours. Your knees wobbled as you straightened into your croisé. Perfection shattered like the ghastly crack in the mirror before you.
Your knuckles still stung from the punch.
Within the shards was your reflection. Broken. Tainted. As your lips had been earlier that day.
You still tasted his glass.
Tasted his corruption.
Ryomen Sukuna had taken something he shouldn't have. Your first kiss. But that wasn't the problem.
It was that a part of you. Deep, and thorned, and buried under years of purity: liked it.
The though dripped from your skull into the back of your throat. Rose bile against your tongue.
You were perfect. You were pristine.
You couldn't be whatever he wanted you to be.
A tight pull gutted your stomach at the sides. Waning in reminder of your missed lunch.
You didn't have an appetite when his bitterness still stained your tongue.
When your mother's memory soured every inch of you.
Her scowled flickered in the mirror's cracks as you committed yourself to the rhythm. Practice tuned your limbs and muscles into perfect positions. Precise poses.
"It won't happen again," you croaked.
Her chastises echoed from the grave. Bit into you. Sunk into your skin. Clawed at your heart, your soul, with ferocious whispers:
You're not perfect.
You're not pure.
You're not pristine.
The strain in your legs collapsed your ankles, at last. Sore.
A stumble.
Eyes gaped at your feet. The music cut into your ears and carved out your only closure.
You stumbled.
Not during the black swan's practice.
But the white.
The first mistake you had made in your role as Odette.
Nausea festered on your tongue. Bitter. Sour. A mix of Sukuna's mouth and your mother's mockery.
The music box splintered under your hand as you slammed it shut. Kicked off your shoes. Flung them across the room.
Your toenails were bruised.
You couldn't bring yourself to care.
In your fit of despair you threw yourself to your bed. Crumpled in the pink sheets, surrounded by your plushies.
As you remembered your mother's teachings.
Remembered Sukuna's lips.
"I'm sorry," you ragged into your hands that trembled over your face. Knuckles throbbing from the mirror you shattered in the attempt to escape her reflection.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry mama. It won't happen again."
Your shoulders quivered. Knees tucked up to your chest as your face pressed into the soft bed.
If only remaining pure was an option.
Yorozu wasn't pure. Wasn't perfect. She was everything that you were not.
That was what made her marvelous.
She would be the perfect black swan. The perfect white swan, too, if your recent mockery of a practice was anything to go off of.
Your heart cracked under the reality. Of being replaced.
Of being anything other than perfect.
You couldn't let her win. You wouldn't. Not after all your hard work.
Dad!BangChan x Fem!Reader x Platonic!Uncle!SKZ // 1,3k words.
summary: After Bang Chan’s members discover his lock screen and completely lose it over his daughter’s “little wolf” cuteness, everything softens when you bring her to practice—turning chaos into a quiet, shared moment where she settles between both of you, right where she belongs.
authors note: idea from @juju-227592 and @idontgiveacrap ☺️🫶🏻
🏷️: fluff, comfort.
Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2.
Bang Chan should have known better.
He really should have.
Leaving his phone unattended around eight chaotic, nosy, emotionally unstable men? That was his first mistake.
His second mistake?
Making his lock screen that picture.
-
It started with Han Jisung.
Because of course it did.
“Hyung left his phone,” Jisung announced, already picking it up like he had zero sense of self-preservation.
From across the room, Lee Know narrowed his eyes. “Don’t touch it.”
“I’m not touching it,” Jisung said, holding it up. “I’m just… holding it.”
“That’s literally touching it.”
Jisung tapped the screen.
And then—
Silence.
Dead, complete silence.
“…Guys,” he whispered.
Something in his tone made everyone look up.
Changbin frowned. “What?”
Jisung didn’t answer.
He just slowly turned the phone around.
And that’s when the room collectively stopped functioning.
-
On the screen:
Chan’s daughter.
Dressed as Wolf Chan.
Tiny gray onesie. Fluffy tail. Paw mittens. Hood slightly slipping over her eyes.
Mid-“awoo.”
-
“…No,” Hyunjin said immediately.
Felix clutched his chest. “No, that’s not real. That’s not a real human being.”
sukuna is offended when his girlfriend uses her toys instead of him | 18+
contents: mdni, established relationship, reader's lowkey a nymphomaniac, use of toys, marathon sex, rough sex, he edges himself to last for hours, slight choking (sukuna puts reader in a headlock), he puts her to sleep lmfao
art by innaillus on x!
Sukuna has never been laid out before and he's honestly dumbstruck right now as his vision swims, seeing rainbows, crashing turquoise waves and dolphins fucking chirping.
The heavy silence of the bedroom is broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the sound of Sukuna’s ragged, uneven breathing. He's sprawled across the king-sized mattress, limbs weighed down by bricks and buzzing with that specific, bone-deep exhaustion that follows hours upon hours of physical exertion.
Now, Sukuna is a big man—broad-shouldered, a regular at the gym, and possesses a stamina he’s always been quietly proud of—but right now, he feels like a battery drained to 1%.
Beside him, you shift, covered in a shimmering layer of sweat like he is. He expects you to curl into his side or fall into the kind of dead-to-the-world sleep he's currently craving. Instead, the mattress dips as you sit upright.
“That was incredible,” you sigh, your voice clear and bright, showing absolutely no sign of the fatigue currently pinning him to the sheets. You lean over, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to his sweaty temple.
“Yeah,” Sukuna croaks, his eyes barely cracked open as the cool rush of adrenaline sinks into a warmth in his bloodstream. “Incredible. I think my heart is actually trying to exit my ribcage.”
A huff of laughter leaves you at that. You find it so amusing that a man who hardly gets winded after a run or hike is left boneless when he's fucked you for a couple of hours.
Meanwhile you don't look spent or feel it, rather you are revitalized. Your skin is flushed, your eyes sparking with an energy that seems almost supernatural given the hour. With a dream sigh, you stretch, your back arching like a feline that makes Sukuna’s tired muscles ache in sympathy.
“You okay?” he asks, watching as you slide off the bed.
“Better than okay,” you reply, flashing him a playful, slightly predatory grin. “But I'm really sticky so I'm gonna hop in the shower and clean up.”
Sukuna watches, flabbergasted, as you gather your hair into a messy bun and saunter toward the bathroom with a bounce in your step, not a limp.
He’d known you had a high libido—you’d mentioned your collection of bedside drawer companions early on—but he’d foolishly thought his own athletic endurance would be the ultimate match. He is a tough guy, the kind of man who could hike twenty miles with a pack, yet here he is, conquered by a woman who looks ready to run a marathon.
He heard the shower turn on. A moment later, over the hiss of the water, he heard the familiar, muffled gasp that you make when—
Were you really using the shower head to get off even after he nearly rubbed his dick raw inside you? Geez, most women would have passed out by now but you're still going.
Sukuna stares at the ceiling, a dizzying mix of admiration and genuine shock washing over him. He had given you everything he had—seven rounds that would have sidelined most people for a week—and you're in the next room, effectively topping off your tank because he’d run out of gas.
He can't sleep now, deciding to go shower himself in one of the other bathrooms and change the bedding before you get back. And somehow, you're still in there when he's done.
When the water finally stops, you emerge wrapped in a towel, looking radiant and utterly satisfied. You climb back into bed, smelling of jasmine and steam, and tuck yourself under the duvet.
“All good now?” Sukuna asks, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and playful defeat.
“Perfect,” you hum, snuggling into his chest. “You’re the best, Ryo. Seriously. Sleep now.”
He wraps a heavy arm around your, feeling your heartbeat steady and calm against his. He's definitely going to need to start doubling his cardio sessions if he wants to survive the month.
The flickering blue light of the television illuminates the darkened living room as the muffled roar of a stadium crowd fills the air.
Sukuna's sunk deep into the sofa, his eyes glued to the screen during the final quarter of a high-stakes game. He's focused on his favorite team and the ball, but he isn't ignoring the weight of you.
You're straddling his thigh, your hips rolling slow and deliberate grinds against the muscular limb. This has been going on for about twenty minutes, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try to find the right angle, the right pressure.
Your boyfriend, ever the team player, had reached down a while ago with his free hand, his fingers working rhythmically under the hem of your silk shorts to help you along. Pumping in and out of the puddle of slick that's pooling at your hole in tacky squelches.
He's trying to be present, but his body is still recovering from your fuck this morning that carried well into the afternoon. Still, he's a good sport and wants to help even if it means multitasking while watching the match.
“Ryo,” you huff, your voice strained and brows knotted as you buck against his hand for more, grinding your aching clit against his rough palm.
“I've got you, baby,” he assures you, pressing the heel of his palm closer as he fucks you on his fingers faster, letting you ride them.
Shifting, you bounce on them, trying to use them to reach your elusive orgasm. Your breathing is shallow, hitched with a desperation that's starting to border on frantic.
Sukuna doubles his efforts, his fingers moving with practiced precision, but he can feel the tension in your legs isn't the good kind—it is the kind born of mounting frustration.
Suddenly, you halt. You don't collapse against him in a post-climax haze. You sit bolt upright, your chest heaving, and shove his hand away.
“I can't,” you snap, sharp enough to make him finally look away from the TV.
“What? Did I do something wrong?” your boyfriend asks, genuinely concerned as you shimmy out of your shorts with a grumble. “I thought we were getting there.”
“We’re 'getting there' for a normal person, Sukuna, but I’m not getting there,” you retort, gesturing vaguely to your body.
You look genuinely frazzled, your hair wild and your eyes bright with unspent nervous energy. “Your fingers are great, you’re great, but it’s like trying to put out a forest fire with a garden hose. I’m vibrating under my skin and it’s actually starting to hurt because it’s not enough.”
And you have tried, really tried to solely rely on him for your pleasure since your relationship got serious, not wanting to hurt his feelings by using your toys. But you can't take it anymore, not when your body is burning for more.
You are after all a sexual creature and you'd prefer not to drain your boyfriend of his energy like some insatiable succubus.
Sukuna blinks, ink on his face stretching as m his jaw drops slightly. “I thought... I mean, we've been at this for a while. You didn't finish?”
“I finished twice, but it didn't stick,” you whine, sliding off him and standing up. There's a mix of apology and raw need on your face when you look at him then. “I love you, but I can't do this manual labor anymore. I need heavy machinery. I'm going to the bedroom.”
“The toys?” Sukuna asks, dumbfounded as you kiss his forehead.
He feels like a handyman who had just been told his entire toolbox was obsolete and been replaced by a robot.
“The toys,” you confirm, already halfway down the hall. “Enjoy the game, okay?”
You disappear into the bedroom and shut the door. A moment later, even through the heavy wood and the sound of the sports commentator, Sukuna hears a low thrumming start up.
He slumps back on the couch, the remote forgotten in his hand. He looks down at his glistening fingers, then at the door, then back at the TV. For the first time in his life, he feels completely outmatched.
The muffled, rhythmic thump-thump-thump from the bedroom is a taunting buzzing now—a mockery of his failure.
Sukuna sits on the sofa, the sports commentator’s voice fading into background noise as a prickly, hot sensation crawls up his neck. It isn't just male ego but a sudden, sharp sense of displacement. He is a man who prides himself on being able to handle anything, yet he feels like he’d been benched for a machine.
“Fuck this,” he curses as he stands up, the remote clattering onto the coffee table, and marches down the hallway, not bothering to knock as he barges in.
The sight that greets him makes his blood pressure spike.
You're sprawled in your ergonomic office chair, your head lolling against the top of it with your face cast in a dewy glow, lips parted and your eyes droopy, brows scrunched in that almost worried look of pleasure.
A sleek, powerful piston-style machine is suctioned to the mahogany desk your legs are draped over, the silicon, realistic cock driving in and out of you with relentless precision. It's lined with ridges and veins you're surely feeling rubbing back and forth inside you as you squirt some lube over the length of it as if your pussy isn't drooling enough already.
Sweat-slicked skin is bare, the only part of you clothed being your socked feet that bow when your toes curl, your supple tits wobble in circles on your chest as your soft tummy dips and dives with each sloppy thrust of the dildo between your thighs.
The noises spilling out of you—the sharp, high-pitched hitches in your breath and the low, raspy moans—are the exact ones he’d spent the last hour trying to coax out of you. Seeing a piece of hardware do effortlessly what he’d sweat through his shirt to achieve feels like a slap in the face.
"Are you fucking serious right now?" Sukuna barks, startling you.
Your half-lidded eyes snap open, dilated and glazed with heat. “Ryo! I told you, I just needed—”
“You need me,” he cuts in, crossing the room and slapping the power switch on the machine. The whirring dies instantly, leaving a deafening silence in the room.
“Hey!” you protest, voice shaky like it tends to get when you're on the brink of coming as you reach for the toy. “I was almost—”
“Change of plans,” Sukuna drawls, not looking offended anymore, just determined.
Scooping you out of the chair, ignoring your surprised squeal, he carries you a few feet to the bed. Then he tosses you onto the mattress, stripping hastily and following you down before you can even find your breath.
“You think a toy can do it better?” he growls, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. “Watch this.”
Heavy pumps of blood rush to his aching cock, fattening it until it's flushed an angry red, bobbing between his thighs. Spreading your legs, he all but shoves it inside you, eye twitching at how there's little to no resistance after that damn toy but he's bigger so a bit of a stretch is needed.
That does nothing to soothe his battered and bruised pride as he pulls all the way back, reveling in how you buck and lift your hips to try and get more of him in you like the glutton you are.
“Greedy whore, nothing's ever enough of you, is it?”
A fussy, needy whine comes from you as your brows bow and your lips purse. “Ryo, don't be a dick. You took away the toy, the least you could do is—Ah!”
Slamming his hips back down, his cock punches you in the stomach, kicking a wrecked moan out of your lungs as your pussy convulses at the unexpected intrusion, slick seeping out of you and pooling on the sheets. The force of the thrust pushes you further up on the bed and you can't even grip onto anything because he's got your hands in his.
A grin full of sharp teeth graces you though it's more like a sneer as his crimson gaze bores in yours with every intent to repossess your soul. The man is far gone, no longer the caring, attentive one who's always putting your pleasure first.
No, he's going to fuck you through the mattress and your stomach is swooping at the thought.
Freeing your hands, his big palms slam down on your sides, groping and kneading your plush flesh as he hums. “You're a fucking nymph so I'll give you exactly what you want.”
Then he's ramming into you, thick shaft spearing your insides as he fucks you hard and fast, your body bouncing helplessly beneath him, shaky cries and sobs of pleasure ripping from your throat.
“Hnngh, Ryo,” you moan, parting your legs further for more.
Animalistic grunts and groans rumble through his chest as the erotic, filthy slap of skin on skin fills the room, headboard bashing against the wall and rattling the nightstands, the pillows cushioning each thud of your head against it.
“Hah, can't talk much now, can ya?”
“Shuddup,” you breathe.
Large, calloused hands grab you by the hips and drag you back and forth on his cock in slick, shlucks, the squelches of your slobbering pussy deafening as you gasp out moans and high-pitched whimpers.
Gruff snarls exhale from him, his muscles bunching as he uses you like a toy, his personal fleshlight to throw around and fold into whatever shape he wants. Tears stream down your face in pearlescent streaks that he licks away, tongue slipping into your mouth as his teeth click against yours and you can barely kiss back with how he's pounding into you.
He's not holding back. This isn't the version of your boyfriend who asks if the pace is okay; this is the man who knows every inch of your body and is intent on reclaiming his territory. He uses his heavy weight to crush you into the mattress, his strength to bend and toss you around, and relentless thrusts that mimic the machine but add the heat of skin and the friction of muscle.
“Look at you, all spaced out,” he coos, nipping at your cheek, grinning against your skin when it makes you flutter around him. “Should do this more often.”
“Yeah,” you slur.
Sukuna stays focused, his movements powerful and unwavering. Every time you try to catch your breath, he shifts, finding a deeper angle, a sharper sensation, refusing to let the tension break until you crumble. Your protests for a break melt into desperate pleas, your fingers digging into his back as you come again and again and again—a deep, full-body shudder that leaves you sobbing for air.
Webs of milky, sticky slick stretch in glimmering strings between his drenched cock and your swollen pussy, smearing on your thighs and his. Hot, wet pants condense on your collarbone as he ruts into you like an animal in heat, sweat dripping from his chin.
“So messy, baby,” he hums, glancing down at the ring of frothy cream at his base. “Getting me all sticky. How cute.”
Toasty and stuffy, the air in the room is thick and hard to breathe as his body blankets you from behind, damp chest plastered to your back when he pushes in again, moans leaving you both.
A beefy arm curls around your neck this time, smothering you in his warm masculine musk and the scent of his cologne. It's dizzying or maybe it's because he's slightly choking you in the crook of his elbow but your cunt clamps down on his cock like a vice for more.
Growling, he fucks into you, shaft pummeling your insides until the gooey, gummy walls remember nothing but the shape of him. Whiny, wanton mewls and gasps are driven out of your chest as he slams into you, pumping you full of his cock over and over again.
Manicured nails claw at his forearm in red streaks as you babble and blabber broken syllables of his name and beg for nothing in particular. The well of liquid heat in your belly swells again, coiling tight, your pitch getting higher.
“Ryo, I'm gonna c-come,” you pant out.
His bicep tightens as he chuckles a husky sound that has you shuddering beneath him. “Yeah, can feel your pussy squeezing me.”
“Please, I can't—”
Clicking his tongue, he snaps his hips rather harshly. “Go on then, come.”
“Ah-ahh-hah, hold me,” you plead.
“I am, woman—”
“Tighter, tighter, please!” You're pawing at his arm.
Conceding, he brings his other arm up, wrapping it around your neck too, engulfing your head in a meaty embrace as his rhythm grows frantic and feral, the smack of his thighs against the backs of yours shaking the entire bedframe, bottles of water tumbling from the nightstand.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” you gasp out before your voice is stolen by your most violent orgasm yet, your nails drawing blood from his bulky arms as your pussy spasms and milks him.
Sukuna knows that coming now would be inevitable. He'd already pulled out each time he was close to finishing prior to this and ate you out instead so he'd be able to draw countless orgasms from you without tiring himself.
This method was going to be one he used often from now on as he finally felt like he could keep up with your nymphomaniac ass.
Now he's rolling his hips into you in a staggering rhythm that has your legs kicking out and your body writhing under him with each shove of his cock that feels deeper than the last.
Drawing back, he pushes forward again, faster and sharper, groaning into your hair as he presses kisses into your strands. His cock pulses and throbs inside you and he pushes in harder, tip kissing your cervix until he reaches the end of you and stills.
With a mind-melting groan, thick, hot ropes of cum splatter your insides, spilling everything as he grinds against your plump ass in slow, deep strokes, the headlock he has you in loosening.
He doesn't stop until your legs go limp and your head falls forward, your eyes rolling back in sheer exhaustion. For the first time since you'd met, you're well and truly fucked-out.
Lazy kisses dot your sweaty back, neck and face before he rolls off you and sprawls out beside you with a heavy sigh, his own chest heaving, sweat dripping off his jaw.
“Love you,” you mumble.
He looks over at you, satisfaction pooling behind his ribs at the sight of your drowsy face already drifting, your breathing deep and even, your body still.
“Love you too, brat.”
A slow, smug grin curls on his mouth. He folds his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with the quiet triumph of a champion.
“Machine: zero. Sukuna: one,” he snickers to himself childishly, basking in the peace and quiet of the blissful afterglow.
note: what if i disappear until i'm out of tumblr jail? 👀
a/n: tried to find the gifs that best represent the ideas in my head, most are m/f because it was more fitting to the vibes I was going for, but I also tried to find some good gifs for the masc!readers. all rights to the original owners.
Oikawa Tōru | Aoba Johsai High
Oikawa prefers to give you cheek kisses while holding your body close after a long day of training, always using this as his way of greeting. He does it for two main reasons: firstly, because he thinks its way sweeter to greet you this way than a full-blown kiss; and secondly, because he feels like it replenishes his energy. For him, kissing your soft cheeks after a long day is one of the best things on Earth. If he is awake before you are, he will definitely wake you up by filling your face with the sweetest pecks ever (with a chance of them travelling downward if he knows you have the time for something more than just cuddling).
If asked, Oikawa would say that any kind of kiss is his favourite, as long it is you doing the kissing. In reality, he loves being kissed in his neck or collarbones; especially if it is the highest place you can reach without him bending down. However, be aware that neck kisses do tend to make him horny, even more so if you randomly come up to him during the day and just leave a kiss there. If you do that, don’t expect to be able to simply walk away after pulling a stunt like that, as he will make sure that he gives the attention you clearly need. Considering this, don’t do this in public, as he prefers to keep you all to himself and the privacy of his own home.
“The early morning sun shines through the thin curtains, illuminating the bedroom with soft golden rays, reminding Tōru that, in the haste of last night’s reunion, he had forgotten to close the blinds. But who could blame him, when he had such a beautiful person in his arms after being kept apart for such long and excruciating days? All of it because of the hectic work schedules the both of you maintained, that sometimes forced you to go days or even weeks without being together. This happened more often than you would like, especially when his away games happened on the exact opposite schedule of your work travels, forcing him to go weeks without seeing his love in person and only being able to hear you on the quick calls before bed or see you through pictures taken during the day.
The scene unfolding before him looked exactly like one he had seen in a movie not so long ago, but a hundred times more beautiful: you, sleeping peacefully on his arms, with puffy cheeks and love bites littering your skin. He couldn’t help himself, starting to kiss your soft cheeks and your face as a whole, slowly bringing you back from the dreamland. As you wake up, the feeling of soft pecks being placed in your face makes you smile, coming hand-in-hand with the feeling of love and care that you hold for him.
‘Good morning sweetheart,’ you hear Oikawa say against your hairline, intensifying the feeling that fills your chest. ‘Good morning, my love,’ you answer while placing small kisses against his jaw and neck, drawing a satisfied noise from your husband ‘I want to be woken up like this every morning, please,’ you say against the delicate skin of his neck, basking in the fading scent of his cologne.
‘Whatever your heart desires, my dear. Anything for the love of my life,’ he answers, locking eyes with you and showing that gorgeous smile of his, prettier than the whole sky. Being forced to go so long without seeing each other would never make the feeling that blooms in your chest dwindle, but on the contrary, as each reunion seemed to make your love soar even higher.”
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Kita Shinsuke | Inarizaki High
Kita is the biggest defender of forehead kisses, especially being someone rather shy regarding physical affection. It’s an easier way for him to kiss you if there is someone else close by, as he never wants to leave you feeling unloved by him, even more so if your love language is physical touch. He will always leave a quick kiss on your hairline when you hug, because he is a man of habits after all. When your relationship gets more serious and you start sharing a bed, forehead kisses are the most essential part of the bedtime routine, and Kita will not be sleeping without giving them.
He loves when you give him slow kisses, that kind of kiss that has you smiling during it, with a real possibility of turning into a full make out session very fast if you’re not careful enough. But those kisses are reserved for him and for him only, so if his friends or siblings are anywhere close to you, he will not let it get too far, as he prefers to keep those aspects of his life private (and it’s got nothing to do with the fact that some people would never let him live that down). If someone accidentally walks in you kissing, they will be getting the meanest look he can muster, as he values your privacy above everything else.
“Cooking had always been a pleasant thing to be done, even when you were a teenager, still living with your parents. But right now, being able to cook dinner for you and your husband, in your own kitchen and with him by your side? There is no place in the world you would rather be, even if for some people this moment would feel like labour instead of an enjoyable thing.
As both of you work towards finishing the meal you just prepared and, simultaneously, cleaning the kitchen, there is a warm glow flooding the room and the soft chirping of the cicadas outside, creating an atmosphere that engulfs both of you in a bubble where this moment is the only thing happening. There are no worries about jobs, payments or people that you have been meaning to call back, there is just the two of you and your shared loved and devotion.
Allowing this peace to settle over you, Shin turns off the stove and pulls you in for a hug. As both of you become comfortable in this position, he starts swaying from side to side, which slowly morphs into a slow dance. It’s in this moments of relaxation after a long day that you can fully enjoy each other’s presence and talk about the most personal aspects of your life and relationship. However, in this moment, you allow the silence to take over the moment, with the only sounds being the ones that originate from the outside.
Looking into Shin’s eyes and seeing the absolute love that is present in them, fills you with the need of being even closer to him, and that is what makes you pull him into a slow and languid kiss. The action makes the two of you stop dancing and start simply enjoying the closeness between your bodies, with the languid caress of your tongues stirring a heat deep inside of you, which makes Shin pull you even closer, while guiding you towards the counter at the same time. As you touch the counter, you feel Shin nudging your thighs, prompting you to hop on top of it and allowing him to stand in between your legs, bringing your bodies even closer while never breaking the kiss.”
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Bokuto Kōtarō | Fukurodani Academy
Bokuto has a cute, but slightly weird, preference for nose kisses and considers them the best energiser that is available on the market. He will request them before leaving the house for anything, but they’re the most important part of his pre-game routine. If he’s away on a game or tournament, he will video call you as close to game time as possible, just so that you can send him some nose kisses from wherever you are. When you are in bed, ready to go to sleep or having just woken up, with soft eyes and relaxed muscles, these are the kind of kisses that are exchanged by the two of you. When something upsets Bokuto and gets him on a bad mood, filling his face with kisses and finishing with a nose kiss will make it better. (Bonus points if you give him a playful bite instead of the standard kiss, you will have him laughing in no time).
There are two type of kisses that Bokuto considers his favourites to give, and that varies with the occasion. If you are in public, he will pull you into his side and kiss your temple, especially if he feels that you’re nervous or uncomfortable in that situation, as it’s his way of showing you that he’s by your side, no matter what. But if you are at home and by yourself, he will be either laying on your lap or half on top of you, being the best weighted blanket that there is, just so he can place small kisses in your belly and thighs, especially if you carry some weight in those areas. (He is a big man and some stretch marks or some extra meat are not going to scare him off.)
“Kōtarō had taken you to the gym with him today, even if the weather was insanely hot and humid and all you wanted was to lay around in a cool room. You only went with him because Kou training is an amazing view, which you had the right, and the desire, to see it happen first-hand.
While Kou started setting up for his training, which is catered to his needs as a professional athlete, you went to the loft area of the gym, where the space is more open and there are mats available, to get started on warming up. You do a few stretches, focusing in the areas that feel tighter and staying careful as not to push yourself further than your body will allow you.
As you finished up with your stretches and started making your way down to the main floor, you saw Kou starting his training in front of the mirrors. Considering that the weather is truly too hot for training and it’s the middle of the afternoon, there aren’t many people in the gym. Taking this as a sign, you make your way to where your dear husband is now finishing a set and lean against the bench where he is sitting. ‘Hey beautiful, what brings you here, on this fine summer day?’ you joke, knowing that he loves to flirt as if you haven’t been married for some time already. ‘Hello sweet thing, finished with your warm up already?’ he asks, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror.
‘Yes, decided to stop by and give you a kiss. You will need the energy for the work out, after all,’ you purred, leaning closer to his face. He looks directly at you after hearing that, clearly expecting more than the peck you leave on the tip of his nose. Seeing the confusion on his face, you point to the sign on the wall that clearly states ‘Please, refrain from overly romantic gestures that might make other people uncomfortable.’ He pouts, but simply places a kiss on your temple and starts his next set, after you promise that he will get all the kisses he might want at home.”
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Kuroo Tetsurō | Nekoma High
Kuroo loves teasing you almost as much as he loves you, which means that he will either pretend to kiss you only to end up simply talking to you really close to your face or moving his face to the side so that you end up kissing his cheek instead of his lips. This persona bleeds into his favourite way of kissing you: neck kisses. You could be folding a load of laundry, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, when suddenly there’s a kiss being plastered in the most sensitive part of your neck. In bed, that becomes even more apparent, with him slotting his face against your neck the whole time you are having sex, including before and after, but only leaving a mark if you allow him.
Even if he wants to keep his cool guy façade in front of his friends and colleagues, Kuroo is a lover boy through and through. His favourite type of kisses? Forehead kisses. Very soft, very loving and fills him with the courage to do almost anything in the world, with some very few exceptions. If he has a big presentation or an important meeting at work, he will ask for more kisses than usual before he leaves, claiming that “I need the extra luck today, love”. When you are out of the house, wether in the market or having dinner at a fancy restaurant, giving him a kiss will make him blush and lose any line of thought, turning your dear husband into a very sweet boy, reminding you of those early dating days.
“You were getting ready for work in your room while Tetsu showered in a rush, being late for work after insisting that you cuddle with him for ‘just five more minutes, love’, that ended up turning into 15 minutes of laying around while you should be getting ready for work. Seeing that he only has 5 minutes before really needing to leave the house so he doesn’t miss the train, you go to the kitchen and finish packing his lunch and checking that everything he usually takes to work is inside his work bag.
As you finish checking his bag, Tetsu comes running down the hallway, grabbing his stuff from the kitchen table and going straight to the door, only stopping to put his shoes and coat on. While that happens, you stay right beside the table, shocked to see him in such a rush, an exact opposite of the man that was in your bed twenty minutes ago. When you see that he’s about to leave, you move closer to the door, planning on giving his goodbye kiss, but Tetsurō is already out of the door before you can even try to kiss him.
You know that wallowing in the ugly feeling that blooms in your chest won’t do you any good, and the logical side of your brain knows that your husband didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, as he was simply in a rush to get to work, especially considering he has an important client meeting. Still, none of this makes you feel better, and you are in a bad mood for the rest of the day, even if you know that you’re being dramatic.
What you failed to consider was that, inside the JVA building, Tetsu was pacing around his office, replaying the moments before he left the house repeatedly in his head. He felt extremely guilty for leaving without giving you a single kiss, especially knowing that he was the one at fault, both for being late and for leaving in such a way. With this feeling gnawing on his chest, he decides that the best way to plead for your forgiveness is in person, so he simply texts you ‘Have a good day at work dear, love you lots <3’.”
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Sawamura Daichi | Karasuno High
Sawamura is a lover in mind and spirit, and this characteristic of his can be seen on every action and decision he takes. A man so full of love, both romantic and platonic, will always make sure that everyone around him feels loved and cared for. This translates very well into his kissing preferences, which turns out to be the classic sign of love between two people: the traditional kiss on the mouth. It can be as shy or as steamy as needed, depending on the occasion and the level of privacy in the moment. If you are in public, and he’s saying hello or goodbye to you, a peck on the lips will suffice. But if it’s date night, and you are looking cuter and hotter than usual, the only kiss that will settle him down enough to make it through is one so passionate that, if you wear makeup, can only happen before you’re fully ready to go out. He also considers it the best kind of kissing because he can pour all of his feeling for you into it, from devotion to jealousy, most things can be expressed through a kiss. He is reserved most of the time, and his affection for you isn't an exception to this rule. However, if he gets jealous because someone said something to you or is looking in a weird way, he will pull you in for a deep kiss in front of them, because he is respectful, but he is also territorial when it comes to you and your relationship.
“You had been married to Daichi for a few years already, having gotten married less than a year after finishing high school. According to him, there was no need to wait to get married when both of you knew that this relationship was your endgame, and you had agreed wholeheartedly. With that, you went to college being Sawamura-san, pursuing your degree while your husband worked hard at the police academy.
Currently, you both had stable careers and lived in a nice apartment, but you still felt as something was lacking from your lives. You knew that Daichi was the oldest out of five children and you had seen him interact with plenty of children before, so you had no concerns of him being good with children or liking them. However, you had never talked about having children of your own, always focusing in your careers and being financially stable.
This is what makes your current predicament so jarring: your IUD was expired, you weren’t using condoms for obvious reasons and you were late. But you weren’t a week late, you were a whole month late. Which left you with two options: either you bought a pharmacy test or you scheduled a doctor’s appointment. After calling the office and finding out that, you would need to wait two more weeks before they could see you, you decided that the pharmacy test was your best choice.
You arrive home a bit earlier than usual, just so you could take the test before Daichi got back. Sprinting to the bathroom, you already thank yourself for drinking so much water through the whole afternoon. As you wait for the results, you hear the dreaded sound of the front door opening, signalling that Daichi is home. ‘Love, are you home already?’ he calls, worry bleeding into his voice, as you’re hardly ever home before him. ‘Yes dear, in the bathroom,’ you answer, knowing that, deep down, there’s no reason to be scared of his reaction. As you hear him approaching, you look at the result on the test.
Positive… You are pregnant…
‘What happened, love? May I come in?’ He’s clearly worried now, but you can’t seem to find the words to answer him at the moment, so you simply pull the door open and throw yourself into his arms. ‘Hey, what is the matter? Are you crying? Is that a pregnancy test in your hand? Love, I’m at a loss here, please talk to me…’
‘Ye-yes, it is. We are parents, Dai,’ you answer, trying to hold back tears ‘I know we never tal…’ you get interrupted halfway through by the most passionate kiss, finally letting all of those emotions free. ‘I am so happy, my love.’”
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Ushijima Wakatoshi | Shiratorizawa Academy
Ushijima is a stoic man and tends to keep to himself when in the presence of people who he doesn’t know very well, but that is a part of his personality that is reserved only for the public eye. In the privacy of your relationship, he is extremely open about his feelings and his thoughts, to the point that you can read him like an open book even if he doesn’t actually say anything. He considers communication the most important pillar of a relationship, and that a small miscommunication can lead to it all crumbling even if there is love from both sides. With that in mind, he will talk to you about PDA so that you two can agree on what feels most comfortable for the both of you, which probably ends up being forehead kisses. Ushijima is a tall man, so it is a place that is easy for him to reach and doesn’t attract an enormous amount of attention to what you are doing. In private, he will make sure to worship you and the ground you walk on, meaning that no part of your body will go without attention. However, the inside of your thighs will be getting the most attention, and he will cover them in love bites constantly.
Ushijima was raised in a household where affection was something rare, only reserved for sparse moments behind closed doors, not exactly something that was present on his daily life, and became even sparser after his parents divorced. Because of his upbringing, he is not used to showing affection in front of other people, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to get used to it, even more so because he would never want you to feel like he is ashamed of you or anything similar to that. However, he is very affectionate in private and wants you to be comfortable enough to reciprocate that energy, especially if you had a similar approach to affection before you got together. Considering that, any kiss that comes from you will be his favourite, as long as you didn’t feel pressured into it, but he does have a slight preference for kisses close to his jawline.
“There is nothing Wakatoshi loves more than spoiling you. He has a refined taste for the finer things in life, particularly when it comes to fashion, and he loves it even more when those items are for you. While some might say he spends far too much of his salary on you, he would completely disagree. He loves you, and that translates into getting you anything you desire, from clothes to shoes to jewellery; you mention it once and, the next time he gifts you something, he will make use of that knowledge. However, there is one thing he will use to surprise you, as he knows you would feel too shy telling him about that kind of desire, and that is lingerie. He will always choose the most delicate silk and the softest lace for those purchases, always prioritising your comfort over anything else.
Today was one of those days, with your husband returning home after a week away and bringing with him one of his traditional gifts. This one came from your favourite brand, the one that made the most perfect lingerie you had haver worn. It was delicate and sexy at the same time, hugging your frame and bringing out your best features.
While your husband showers in the master bathroom, you get changed into the beautiful set he chose this time. It’s a deep royal blue, fully made out of lace, that leaves next to nothing to the imagination. You notice that there is a garter belt in the set but no stockings to pair with them, so you get one from the closet, knowing that it will tie the look together.
As you clip the last stocking in place, Wakatoshi leaves the bathroom and approaches you, with a towel around his waist and droplets of water running down his chiselled chest. When you feel the heat that emanates from his body get close to you, you turn around and drape your arms around his neck at the same time as his hands come to rest in your waist. You use the height difference to your advantage and start laying kisses close to his jawline, knowing that it’s his favourite placement and building a sensual atmosphere in the room, watching for the tell-tale signs of pleasure that make themselves known on his body.
‘We might have been apart from each other longer than we wished for, but just know that I will never leave your side, as I will always live right here’ he says, laying a hand over your heart, easing the worries that try to seep into your head when he is away, turning the sensual moment into something softer and full of emotion.”
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Daishō Suguru | Nohebi Academy
Daishō is man that like to upkeep a certain personality in public, always wanting to be the coolest guy in the room with the hottest partner, which means that he loves showing off, especially in front of people that don’t really know him. He is very needy when it comes to your attention, however, to keep his facade, he has learned to communicate his feelings through a simple look and, in turn, you pretend to be the one asking for a kiss or two. Considering his desire to show you off, any PDA would make him very pleased, but a standard kiss would certainly be his favourite, because it doesn’t leave any space for people to assume what kind of relationship you two have. If you’re uncomfortable with more passionate kisses in public, a peck or a kiss without tongue will make him just as happy as any other kind of kiss, as he doesn’t want you to feel pressured into doing something just to stroke his ego. In those private moments shared between just you, he will fill your face and anywhere he can reach with kisses, as a way of showing his gratitude and devotion to you. If you’re busy with something, that will make it even more interesting for him, especially as he watches you try to squirm away from him. However, if you decide to turn the tables and do the same thing with him, you will have a very pliant Daishō in your hands, as he does love to bask in any kind of affection you give him and will melt into a puddle from the softest kisses.
“If there was a withstanding tradition in your household, it was the Sunday Market one. In the early days of your relationship with Suguru, you two used to go to the market that happened a few streets down from your childhood home, the one where your mother still buys all her produce to this day. However, as your life progressed, you two moved in together and away from the small neighbourhood, having to leave behind the small market that was part of your relationship.
After a few months of living in a new area of the city, you found out that there was a very similar market pretty close to your new apartment, which meant that the tradition could keep going. Because of that, you and your husband were currently heading down the street, in the direction of your favourite place in the neighbourhood. As you enjoyed the view, Suguru was gushing about the new recipe he wanted to try and all the ingredients that he needed for it, talking about how fresh and healthy they were going to be and how nice the dinner you would share later. When your husband suddenly became quiet and stopped walking altogether, your body also came to a halt and looked around, trying to find the reason for the sudden change in attitude from Suguru.
At the other side of the street, was standing a couple you never thought would happen, not even in your weirdest dreams: your old partner, hand-in-hand with Suguru’s ex-girlfriend, Yamaka-san. Sensing that your husband was also shocked about the discovery, you tugged his body closer to yours, as a way of pulling him out of the trance and stop staring at them. As he looks your way, you gently touch his face, making the best kiss me eyes you can muster and hoping that he gets the hint.
Suguru, being the cheeky man he is, clearly had the same idea as you, pulling you even closer and into a searing hot kiss, one that could make even the most cold-hearted person feel the love you two share from a mile away. As you pull away and look back at the other side of the street, you find them gone and a sense of pride fills your chest, all due to the fact that you felt confident enough to show your love in such a public way and to lay your claim on him all over again. It might have been childish to do so in front of someone form your past, but you know that doing such a thing in public matters a lot to him.”
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Futakuchi Kenji | Date Tech High
Futakuchi’s love language is definitely physical touch. He loves hugging, kissing, cuddling and everything else that is included in the package, so it isn’t a surprise when he looks like he is about to beg for a kiss. His usually cocky demeanour gives space to puppy eyes and pouty lips, which leaves no space for arguing. As to which kiss is his favourite, he loves the sweet pecks you leave all over his face, especially as a good luck token or before going to sleep. He feels all of his worries and anxiety leaving his body in the same rate as you leave kisses on his face, especially the ones close to his eyelids, as they’re the most delicate out all of them. He does have a naughtier side to his personality, and with that comes his love for languid kisses. The kind of kiss that leaves you torn between wanting more and not wanting to stop so you can move positions or shed some clothing. He loves to tease you with very slow kisses, pulling back when you try to deepen them just to see if you will run after him.
He is a big believer that affection needs to be reciprocated in the way the person in the receiving end desires. If you two have matching love languages, he is going to think it is awesome and will lather you in kisses. But if you have another way of feeling loved, he will go the extra mile to fulfil your desires and make sure you feel loved and cared for. But, either way, just as he loves being covered in kisses, he loves doing the same for you. He will make sure that he finds your most sensitive spots every time, as he loves having you squirming in his hold, be under or on top of him. He does this not to be mean, but on the contrary, he wants to hear you laugh until you lose your breath and your belly hurts. The moments when he has you laughing in his arms are the best ones in his day, it’s when he feels recharged and free from the weight on his shoulders.
“It was another lazy saturday afternoon in the Futakuchi household, with the blazing summer heat making every movement feel heavy, forcing both you and your husband to stay inside the house. Even with the insane temperatures, Kenji insists on touching you, laying his body on top of yours while you pretend to pay attention to whatever movie is currently playing on the TV.
As you start to overheat with the added body heat on top of you, small pecks start being placed on the side of your face. They start innocent, so you allow Kenji to follow along with his ministrations, even if you both know that he is supposed to being punished right now, thanks to the stunt he pulled a few days ago.
‘You know that I’m not a kid any more, right? I can make this decision by myself, without you meddling in my life. You are not my parent,’ he had said when you tried to give your opinion over a matter that had been bothering for literal weeks already. You two had managed to talk it out and figure a way to solve his dilemma with your help while not taking his autonomy away, as it was never something you planned on doing either way. However, that doesn’t mean you forgot what he said about you not being his parent, considering the things he calls you in bed.
As you feel the kisses start to travel lower, you decide to test a theory you had developed over the day. ‘Is my baby feeling needy today? Does he need me to take care of him?’, as the words leave your mouth, you feel his body melt on top of yours, his erection very evident through the soft fabric of his shorts. As his breath becomes heavier, comes the answer you had been waiting for: ‘Yes momma, need you to touch me, pretty please,’ he says with a whine, his pouty lips and shiny eyes could leave even the strongest person weak at the knees.
You used the opportunity to tease your husband, ‘You want momma to touch you? Is that right baby? But I thought I was your spouse and not your parent.’ Hearing this, he whined and started apologising for what he had said in the heat of the moment, pleading for your forgiveness and downright begging for your touch, which you would never deny him of, as you just wanted to hear him plead and beg for you to touch him for a little while. As a way to end his suffering, you pulled him into a searing kiss, effectively shutting him up and leading to a better place, where he could just be momma’s baby.”
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Iizuna Tsukasa | Itachiyama Institute
Iizuna is a very sweet and loving partner in public and in private, never being shy or ashamed of showing his affection for you in front of his peers and family. He will pull you close and kiss your forehead if he thinks you’re feeling tired or sad. If you run up to him, he will drop anything he is doing and pull you in for a long kiss. When you are in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, he will hug you from behind and leave kisses in your nape. It doesn’t really matter what you are doing or where you are, you will be getting your daily dose of kisses from Iizuna. His friends like to tease him and call him clingy, but he will never deny those accusations, especially because he worships the ground you walk on, so it is simply logical that he is clingy to the love of his life.
In the same way as he loves to shower you with attention, he also loves to be the centre of your attention. He doesn’t really care about the kind of kiss, as long as he is getting them any time he wishes, which it turns out to be all day, every day. Call him a drama queen if you wish, but not getting enough kisses from you will lead to him being in a sour mood for the rest of the day. At the end of the day, if you come home to a cranky husband, all you need to do is hold him close and kiss him until you are both out of breath. That will magically give you your sunny Iizuna back. He will tell everybody that dares to ask that he does not have a favourite kiss, as you are his favourite person and, because of that, anything that you do will be his favourite. But, deep down, you that there is a kind of kiss that will get you anything you want, and that is an earlobe kiss. It is very unconventional, but it will have him folding for you no matter what. If there is a sensitive spot in Iizuna’s body, that will be it. You can visibly see the shivers running through his body the second your breath touches it.
“This all feels like a fever dream. It’s Valentines day, and your husband is taking you to the most sought out restaurant in the entire Tokyo. He only told you the name of the place after you downright begged him, with the excuse that you needed to know so you could choose your outfit for the amazing date night he clearly had planned.
As the weather is still on the colder side, you favour clothes that will keep you warm over the more fashionable options you had on your wardrobe. That does not mean you will look out of place at the restaurant, but simply like a mature adult that knows how to dress accordingly to the weather.
Once you finish getting ready, you head to the bathroom where Tsukasa is making his final touches to his hairstyle. Approaching him from behind, you weave your hands around his waist, pulling him into a warm embrace, and laying your head on his shoulder so you can look at him in the mirror. ‘Looking really good today, husband,’ you whisper in his ear, leaving a small kiss in his earlobe on the process. ‘And you look prettier by the minute, my dear. How is that possible?’ he answers with a shudder, as you just kissed his soft spot.
Just as you go to answer him, he turns around in your hold and pulls you in for a kiss, that slowly transforms into a make out session in the middle of your bathroom. His hands, calloused from playing volleyball, caress your whole body, leaving a burning trail where they pass and making that molten fire in your core stir back to life. In a similar fashion, your hands also roam his body, tracing the hard planes of his chest and the dip of his waist, grabbing every part you could and trying to not leave a single part of him untouched.
When you need to pull apart to be able to breathe again, Tsukasa checks his watch and realises that it is time to leave the house, not wanting to be late to your reservation. With a last peck to your lips, he begins to guide you to the car, with the promise to finish what you started after your date is done and you are both back to the comfort of your home. Even if you can’t wait to be back, you also want to enjoy this night in the fullest.”
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Meian Shūgo | MSBY Black Jackals
Meian has a different view of relationships than most people, as he believes that small affections mean more than the big and showy acts most people do to express their feelings. His love is weaved in the way he always makes your breakfast, or in the way that he always makes sure that you have everything that you need for the day, always setting you up for success. This behaviour also translates into the way he shows affection, with a small kiss to your cheek before you leave for work, a warm hug while you cook or a simple peck placed on the back of your neck while you cuddle in bed before falling asleep. This does not mean that his love for you is small, but on the contrary, he loves you so much that he has the need to break his affection into those little acts during the day, because if they start to pile up in his chest, he fears he might suffocate with too much affection by the end of the day.
Meian adores receiving any kind of kiss, but having his hands, calloused from years of strenuous training and playing volleyball, kissed by your soft lips after a long day of training or a particular hard game will have him feeling like the most loved man on Earth. The pure adoration that you pour into this small act has the ability to bring out the deepest emotions that live inside his chest, and it was in a moment like this that he had the realisation that he either would marry you and live his happy ever after, or he would live a very bitter and regretful life. The first time you did it again after he had this realisation, he jokingly asked you to marry him, and, after you accepted it, he said that your surprise would only be the ring you were getting, because you were already engaged, no matter what society might expect from a proposal.
“Being married to a professional athlete was never the easiest thing in the world, with being forced to be apart for many days at a time, only seeing each other on early mornings and late nights during the season and all the preparation that was involved in maintaining his body in its best condition. But the best part of it all is certainly this: watching him lead his team to the most sought after game of the entire season: the final game of The Cup.
Many years of hard work, since his teenager years, allowed your husband to get closer than ever to his dream, and if things kept moving the way they currently were, he would be able to achieve it tonight: winning The Cup. Sitting on the bleachers alongside the others member’s families, you could sense that everybody had the same feeling as you, especially with the game being 12-9 on its fifth set, favouring the Jackals.
As the game neared its end, a man wearing the team’s jacket approached you and some of the guys’ partners that were sitting close to you, informing that the coach had called all of you to be courtside during the award ceremony, especially those who were married and/or had kids with the players.
As the game comes to an end, the stadium erupts in cheers for the Jackals, celebrating the win at the same time as you and many others make their way to their husbands and boyfriends, who currently are in the middle of the court, commemorating this milestone all together.
The moment that you locked eyes with your husband, everything else came to a stop, as the world seemed to slow down and the people around you became colourful blurs. You both approached each other at the same time, with Shūgo pulling you into the most passionate and emotional kiss you two had ever shared, even more than the ones in your wedding day. This moment might be a milestone in his career, but it was a dream you two shared since the beginnings of your relationship. As the team cheered around you, the fact that they knew your husband was a very private man came to mind, and it made the moment you were living even more special.”
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Terushima Yūji | Johzenji High
Terushima has a tongue piercing, and this fact has been wildly known by every single person that went to high school around the same time as him. What they don’t know is the fact that he only got it pierced after you mentioned that you wanted to find out how it felt to kiss someone that had a piercing while you two where just friends. When you finally started dating, the first thing Terushima asked after your first kiss was “Did you like it? The piercing?”, with that lopsided grin of his. Taking this into consideration, his favourite kind of kiss will always be the ones that have his tongue involved, just so he can use his favourite accessory on his favourite person. That doesn’t mean that kissing you is the only use to the piercing that he can think of, but it’s the most common use he has for it.
Being a softie at heart, means Terushima just loves to be cuddled and pampered, and being showered in your kisses after a long day is everything his heart desires, even more so after spending most of his day on his feet at the salon. His favourite after-dinner activity with you is definitely a work-day debrief, with you sitting with your legs on his lap while he tells you all about how one of his clients is getting married to her friend’s brother while other is getting divorced after his husband found out he had dated a famous guy 20 years ago. You listen to him intently, leaving kisses on his shoulder and arm every now and then, while also providing some very meaningful commentary on all the weird things that happens on others peoples lives and sharing what happened on your work day. One might say it’s not right to talk about others peoples lives, but when your work is deeply attached to listening to other people vent about their personal problems, the line between gossip and telling your partner about your day becomes extremely thin.
“You had always liked dyeing your hair since you were a teenager, and so did Yūji, so it was no surprise that, with him becoming an apprentice hairstylist, your dates would involve retouching your roots every few weeks. It is a very nice way to spend time with your husband, doing something so intimate and in the privacy of your small bathroom, constantly brushing against each other while trying to not stain the entire bathroom with the hair dye or toner you decided to use this time.
Your current predicament was certainly something straight out of a comedy: Yūji sitting on a small stool and with most parts of his hair tied in pigtails so it would stay out of the way, while you stood behind him with a small bowl of dye, trying to understand how exactly you were supposed to apply it without leaving streaks of uncoloured hair or too saturated with dye. Knowing that your husband trusted you to do his hair, something that would affect how his clients perceived him and his ability, left you even more anxious than normal.
Sensing the uneasiness bleeding off of you, he turned around to hug your legs, as it was the place he was able to reach in this position, and looked up to you with the cutest pout and puppy eyes combo you had ever seen someone make. ‘What’s the matter love? You’re doing such a good job,’he said, clearly trying to sooth your nerves. It worked to an extent, removing some of the weight on your shoulders, but not all of it. ‘Am scared of messing it up, don’t want to make you look silly,’ you answered, not meeting his gaze.
‘You’re not going to mess up, love. And even if you did, I could always rock a buzz cut for a few days,’ he said, lightening up the mood with his jokes while also dissolving your worries. ‘Should we cut the chase and just buzz it right now? We could draw some cheetah print to make a statement,’ you joked back, relaxing into his hold and finally looking in his eyes, which made you pause. The pure love and admiration that you saw in his eyes left you emotional, especially for seeing it in such a raw and unfiltered way.
Placing the bowl back on the counter top, you leaned down to kiss him with all your might, trying to show him how much you loved him without using words. By the way he hugged you even tighter and kissed you back with such fervour, you knew that he got your message and was responding on the same intensity. With such amount of emotion taking over both of you, you ended up hugging on the bathroom floor, but there was nowhere on the world you rather be.”