SUMMARY: At the end-of-season drivers' dinner, Charles accidentally lets slip that he has a wife and a five-year-old daughter
PAIRING: charles leclerc x reader
It was the end-of-season drivers' dinner and Carlos was currently on a desperate mission to find a golf partner for the next morning. So far, he was failing miserably.
"Lando. Golf tomorrow? Come on, give yourself a chance to take revenge, cabrón," Carlos coaxed, leaning across the table with full enthusiasm.
"Mate, I literally can't. McLaren is holding me hostage for filming all day," Lando said, playing with his fork. "But a Carlando rematch will happen, but not tomorrow"
Carlos let out a dramatic sigh. "Unbelievable. Charles! You're not busy, right?"
Before Charles could even open his mouth, Lando scoffed, "Does he even know how to play golf? He’s going to hit the grass more than the ball."
"He knows! ...I think," Carlos snapped, before staring intensely at his ex-teammate. "So, Charles. Golf?"
"No, I can't either," Charles replied naturally. "I have to stay with my daughter tomorrow.".
Charles froze. His brain caught up with his mouth about two seconds too late. Did I really just say that out loud?!
"WHAT?!" Max choked on his water"You have a DAUGHTER?!"
"Wait, wait, wait," Lando cut in, suddenly leaning across the table "How old is she? How many months?"
Charles blinked, debating if jumping out the restaurant window was a viable exit strategy. But he’d already dug the hole, might as well jump in.
"She's five years old," Charles confessed, rubbing his temples. "And I don't know, Lando! Who counts in months after two years?!"
"FIVE YEARS?!" It was a full-on unison scream.
"Hold on a second!" George interrupted, throwing his hands in the air, instantly stepping into his role as the grid's official FBI agent. "You don't even have a girlfriend! Who are you making children with?"
Charles buried his face in his hands. If the secret's out, I might as well throw the whole bomb.
"I’m actually married," Charles muttered into his palms. "For six years."
"Six years?! And we weren't invited to the wedding?! I thought we were friends, Charles!" George said, sounding offended.
"How tf is this possible?!" Lando yelled, completely exasperated.
Meanwhile, Carlos had officially reached his limit. He didn't care about the marriage or the secret kid. He had a crisis of his own.
"OKAY, GREAT, CHARLES IS SECRETLY A FAMILY MAN!" Carlos yelled, "BUT WHO THE HELL AM I PLAYING GOLF WITH TOMORROW? Alex?"
Alex, who was quietly trying to blend into the wallpaper, blinked. "I can't."
Carlos’s jaw dropped in absolute betrayal. "WHY? Do you have a secret family too? Is everyone secretly married with three kids?"
"Uhh... no," Alex said slowly, raising his hands in defense. "I just... have a flight tomorrow, Carlos."
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
The second Charles stepped into the apartment, he was already rehearsing how to break the news. He had kept the secret perfectly for six years and had crumbled under zero pressure.
But the moment he closed the door, he heard it, the familiar sound of a Disney movie playing in the living room. Before he could even call out, tiny footsteps came running.
“Papa! Papa!” your daughter screamed, launching herself at him.
Charles’ face instantly softened. He dropped his bag and caught her, spinning her around as she giggled.
“Mon petit cœur! Did you miss me?” he asked, pressing kisses all over her cheeks.
“So much!” she said dramatically, wrapping her little arms around his neck. “We watched Encanto again. Mom said I could stay up until you came home.”
You appeared in the doorway, smiling at the scene. Charles looked at you over your daughter’s head, eyes full of guilt and love at the same time.
After the bedtime routine, your daughter was finally asleep. Charles joined you in the bedroom, both of you getting ready for bed.
“So…” he started, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I fucked up.”
You raised an eyebrow “How bad?”
“We had the drivers’ dinner tonight and I accidentally told Carlos I couldn’t play golf tomorrow because I have to stay with my daughter. Then I had to confess everything.” He said it in one breath.
“Well… I can’t believe you managed to keep it a secret for this long,” you said, shaking your head. “Six years, Charles. That’s actually impressive.”
He looked up at you, surprised. “So you’re not mad at me?”
“No, I’m not mad.” You sat beside him and took his hand. “I think it was always going to come out one day. We didn’t know when… but I guess now is the time.”
Charles let out a big sigh of relief and pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours.
“We should announce it publicly, right? Maybe a soft launch or something?” he asked.
You let out a laugh. “Charles, we’ve been married for six years and have a five-year-old. If we post anything now, it’s going to be a hard launch."
in which… two rookie f1 drivers soft launch their relationship, and the media goes crazy about it
liked by olliebearman , iamrebeccad and 609.000 others
yourusername sneak peek 🌸
comments
charles_leclerc is there something you’d like to share with us y/n?
yourusername my gelato maybe 😇
user43 charles in overprotective big brother mode hahah we love to see it 🫶🏻
user87 HELLO DID Y/N JUST SOFT LAUNCH WTF?!
user65 I just woke up and y/n suddenly has a boyfriend what 💔💔
user13 streets are saying our favorite rookie is in a relationship!
user76 liked by olliebearman, is this a sign you guys !?
user45 ofc he’s going to like her posts they’re friends it doesn’t mean they’re dating lol people need to chill tf out
alicia_torriani you’re glowing girl next time we’re getting that ice cream together 🥹
yourusername ilysm and WE MUST!! 💘
kimi.antonelli I wonder who’s the guy holding the flowers 🤔
liked by yourusername
user60 ARE WE ALL SEEING THE SAME THING, KIMI AND Y/N
user39 she liked his comment omg
user48 tbh this seems like a very profitable pr move
user13 pr move or not you’ve got to admit they’d be an iconic couple
liked by georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1 and 1.328.000 others
kimi.antonelli good to be home + recharge the batteries 🍕💯
comments
mercedesamgf1 summer break 🔛🔝😎
user90 f1 media having a field day both Kimi AND y/n soft launching in the same week
user33 the second picture he’s so cute omg<3
user42 wait doesn’t y/n have the same necklace and bag as the girl in the picture?
user10 I don’t think so I’m pretty sure it’s just very similar
f1gossipnews coincidence? we think not 👀
user30 oh my shayla (my kimi and y/n ship) neither of them are single anymore 🥀🥀
user28 fr they had so much chemistry 😭
user14 lol you guys need to stop being so invested in their lives it’s weird, can’t they just be good friends?
user28 I’m sorry but have you seen the way Kimi looks at her, there is NO way they are just ‘good friends’
yourusername i’m just as shocked as you are, an actually decent outfit ?!
kimi.antonelli hey that was rude (I got advice from a professional 👌)
liked by user73, user62 and 54.000 others
f1wagnews y/n y/l/n spotted today in Italy riding a bike with mystery man!🫣 some sources say our first female driver may be on a path to becoming a wag herself! follow f1wagnews for more updates
comments
user63 on a path to becoming a wag herself what the helly
user64 not a mystery man… that’s just her cousin guys 😭 let her live
f1wagnews 👀👀👀 sources are saying it’s not a cousin… stay tuned 💅
user17 no because if this man distracts her and she doesn’t finish P1 again i’m throwing hands
user90 girl don’t let a man fumble your podiums pls we beg
user72 how is SHE the driver and STILL giving wag energy?? a queen tbh
user02 what if it’s her physiotherapist??? y’all jump to wag every time she breathes near a man
user12 the way she’s riding that bike… she’s in love. trust me i studied body language in 2014 on tumblr
user80 can’t believe i have to say this but SHE IS THE PRIZE actually
user20 lowkey hope it’s a local italian who doesn’t even know what a grid penalty is, she deserves peace
f1wagnews sources say its a familiar italian 😉
user35 y’all acting shocked like she hasn’t had rizz since F2 days
liked by kimi.antonelli, alexandrasaintmleux and 3.300.000 others
yourusername plot twist ❤️
comments
f1wagnews WE’VE BEEN INVESTED SINCE DAY ONE. CONGRATS TO OUR FAVE SOFT LAUNCHERS 😭👏
gridhoney the driver x driver power couple we were manifesting
sillyseasoncentral BREAKING: paddock collectively loses their minds over this hard launch
olliebearman i knew it and still feel betrayed
yourusername shh you’re literally the first person we told😐
olliebearman correction: I predicted this entire relationship
kimi.antonelli mate you need to stop
arthur_leclerc do i get to be best man or do i have to fight ollie for it
yourusername we’ll see<3
arthur_leclerc RUDE
user16 if they don’t do the kiss through the helmets thing i’m boycotting
user83 never trusting a “mystery man” again. it’s always a fast Italian with dreamy eyes
rookieszneditz someone make a “friends to grid rivals to lovers” edit IMMEDIATELY
alex_albon how did i not know and i see you two like every race weekend??
yourusername lily knew🤷♀️🤷♀️🤷♀️
alex_albon WHAT? SHE DID?!
lilymunihe of course 🥰
liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 5.439.000 others
kimi.antonelli mi fortuna più grande
comments
georgerussell63 watch them get a 1-2 podium and thank each other instead of their engineers
yourusername LOL , I’m about to go tell Carmen you said this
georgerussell63 I TAKE IT BACK
teamradiochaos radio if they crash into each other: “tell her i still love her 😭”
slowpitstopz kimi posted his gf… and i’ve never felt more single
dtscripttok this better be in the next Drive to Survive with dramatic music and everything
olliebearman i told you not to soft launch in italy, didn’t i. DIDN’T I.
kimi.antonelli you told me a lot of things i ignored 😇
user63 him calling her his greatest luck 🫠🫠
arthur_leclerc you’re so lucky y/n puts up with you
kimi.antonelli I know 🙏I wonder every day how I got so lucky
yourusername ❤️
liked by kimi.antonelli
user98 them sharing earphones is my roman empire 🥹
user32 who would’ve thought your childhood karting rival will become your girlfriend when you both race in f1, Kimi really is living the dream…
SUMMARY: Lando Norris taught Y/N that sometimes love isn't enough to overcome fear. Max Verstappen, however, seems determined to prove that love was never supposed to be so complicated.
After years of believing her place in the world made her impossible to choose, trusting someone who chooses her so easily might be the hardest thing she'll ever do.
WORD COUNT: 11K
masterlist - max's masterlist
The first time I realized there were people who were born in places different from mine, I was eight years old.
It wasn’t because someone explained it to me. It was because I overheard two of my grandmother’s neighbors talking while they played dominoes in her backyard.
“That little girl’s mother sends money from England, doesn’t she?” one of them asked in a raspy voice as she placed another tile on the table.
“She does.”
“Poor thing… Growing up without a father, and with her mother raising other people’s children instead of her own.” The woman took a long drag from her cigarette before continuing the game, as if she had just made the most ordinary comment in the world.
I kept drawing in the dirt with a stick, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing. Children learn very early which conversations aren’t meant for them.
That night, while my grandmother peeled potatoes for dinner, I couldn’t keep the question to myself any longer.
“Grandma…”
She looked up for only a second.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Is it true that my mom takes care of other children in England?”
Her hands froze over the cutting board for a few seconds.
“Your mother works.”
“But… taking care of other children?”
“Yes.”
I lowered my eyes to the concrete floor. I remember staring at a tiny crack, unable to understand why such a simple answer hurt so much.
“Then why doesn’t she take care of me?” I whispered.
My grandmother didn’t answer. She simply set the knife aside, walked over to me, and gently stroked my hair with a rough hand, worn by years of hard work. Then she quietly returned to the kitchen as if nothing had happened.
As I grew older, I learned that some silences weigh far more than any answer ever could.
When I was twelve, the sweet woman who had raised me my entire life passed away.
Something inside me froze that day. Not even the hot cup of coffee one of our neighbors handed me made me feel anything.
The house was filled with people who, until that moment, had never bothered to show up, and suddenly everyone seemed to have an opinion about what should happen to me.
“She can’t stay here alone.”
“She’s still just a child.”
“Someone needs to call her mother.”
No one asked what I wanted. It was as if being twelve meant I had no right to make decisions about my own life.
Two days after the funeral, my mother arrived carrying a single small suitcase, making it painfully obvious she had no intention of staying for long.
“Tomorrow we’re going to take care of some paperwork,” she said. Those were the first words she spoke after settling into my grandmother’s bedroom.
“What are we going to do?” I asked quietly.
“We’re getting your documents ready. You’re coming back to England with me.” Her voice left no room for questions.
So I stayed silent and let the woman who had spent years away come back and rearrange my entire life.
When we arrived at the Norris family’s house, I finally understood why my mother had chosen to build a life here instead of coming back for me like she’d always promised.
The house was beautiful—bright, spotless, and full of life. It couldn’t have been more different from our little concrete home back in our country, which always felt dark and cold.
My mother showed me the bedroom we’d be sharing, and without another word, she left to begin her daily chores around the house.
I was alone. So I wandered outside into the enormous backyard. Everything felt so unfamiliar… so cold… so depressing.
Or maybe that was simply the way I saw the world now that my grandmother was gone.
My relationship with my mother had always been distant. While we lived in different countries, our conversations rarely lasted more than ten minutes. We spoke only about practical things, never about feelings. That’s why I didn’t trust her enough to tell her everything that was happening inside my head.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when a football ball slammed into my arm.
“Ow.” I immediately rubbed the sore spot.
When I looked up, I found myself staring at a green-eyed boy wearing an apologetic smile.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. Those were the only words I understood.
I didn’t speak English. To me, everything else sounded like an endless stream of meaningless sounds.
“I… don’t speak English,” I managed to say.
“Oh…” His eyes widened with understanding. “Lucía?”
He cradled his arms as if rocking a baby, and I quickly realized he was asking if I was Lucía’s daughter.
I simply nodded. I thought that would be the end of our interaction. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was.
First, he pointed at himself.
“Lando.”
Then he pointed at me.
“Y/N,” I replied.
His smile grew even wider, clearly pleased that we’d managed to communicate despite the language barrier.
He bent down, picked up the football ball that had been forgotten on the grass, and held it out toward me. Then he pointed his thumb toward a makeshift pitch a few yards away.
He was inviting me to play.
I wanted to say no. But the simple kindness of someone making such an effort to communicate with me, despite neither of us speaking the other’s language, awakened a warmth in my chest that I hadn’t felt in a very long time. So I said yes.
After that day, our friendship blossomed.
Lando was the one who practically taught me how to speak English, while I taught him bits and pieces of Spanish.
We spent countless afternoons playing on his PlayStation or running around the backyard whenever the sun was out. When my mother grounded me and refused to let me leave my room, he’d sneak candy under my bedroom door. Whenever he got into trouble, I’d do the same for him.
As the years passed, our little friendship slowly became something else. Somewhere along the way, the flame of love had ignited within my heart, and from the way Lando looked at me, I was certain that it burned just as intensely within his.
One ordinary afternoon, in the middle of one of our usual games, we shared our first kiss. It was shy, awkward, and over almost as quickly as it had begun.
Afterward, we avoided each other for days. Neither of us knew how we were supposed to act after crossing that line.
Eventually, though, we slipped back into our old routine. We depended on each other too much to let a single kiss ruin everything, so we quietly agreed to pretend it had never happened.
Until the day we crossed a line no friendship ever should.
We slept together for the first time.
The next morning, Lando tried to act like nothing had changed. He laughed, joked, and spoke to me exactly the way he always had.
But eventually, the weight of the question hanging between us—What are we now?—became too much for him to ignore.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I never meant for this to happen. You mean so much to me, and I don’t want us holding onto hopes we both know can’t become reality… You know we can’t be together.”
As he spoke the most painful words my sixteen-year-old heart had ever heard, he couldn’t even bring himself to look me in the eye.
I simply nodded and forced a small smile. It hurt more than I could ever describe, but I understood. Someone like him—someone with endless opportunities, someone destined to conquer the world—could never be with someone like me.
The daughter of the housekeeper.
The years that followed were some of the hardest of my life. Lando threw himself completely into his racing career, and little by little, we stopped spending our days together.
At home, things weren’t any easier.
My mother became unbearable. To this day, I don’t know whether it was my teenage hormones or her constant need to control every aspect of my life, but every conversation between us turned into another argument.
By the time I turned eighteen, our relationship had reached the point of no return. One fight escalated until it became physical. So I packed the few clothes and belongings I owned, walked out of that house, and never looked back.
For the first time in years, I was ready to start over. Free from my mother’s control and free from the feelings that had kept my heart tied to Lando for far too long.
(…)
Eight long years had passed since that day.
Time had brought maturity with it, and I had managed to heal many of the wounds I’d carried inside me.
Life hadn’t become any easier after leaving the Norris household. I’d had to work incredibly hard just to support myself, and although I still hadn’t reached the goals I’d set for myself, I could finally say I was stable.
My relationship with my mother, while still complicated, had improved somewhat. At the very least, we could now have a conversation without arguing. Sometimes we even laughed together.
Things with Lando were much the same. Every now and then we’d call each other to ask how life was going, but that was the extent of it. I couldn’t even say we were friends anymore. We were simply two people who shared the nostalgia of the past we’d share together.
One ordinary Sunday, I was invited to the Norris house for a small lunch.
Lando was there with his new girlfriend, along with several of his friends.
Watching him be so affectionate with her made my stomach twist. I wasn’t in love with Lando anymore—that had been left in the past—but I couldn’t help mourning what we might have become if social class hadn’t mattered so much.
I was helping my mother clean up in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Since no one seemed to hear it from the backyard, I decided to answer the door myself.
“Good afternoon,” a blond man with striking blue eyes greeted me.
He looked strangely familiar.
“Hi. How can I help you?” I asked, studying his serious expression.
With that same curiosity, he began studying mine.
“Max! I thought you weren’t going to make it!” Lando’s cheerful voice broke the strange silence between us.
I looked back at the blond man, and suddenly his face clicked into place.
Max Verstappen.
Just like Lando, he was a Formula One driver.
I stepped aside to let him in. He gave me one last lingering glance before following Lando toward the backyard.
The afternoon passed without anything particularly remarkable happening.
Everything felt perfectly normal… Except for the fact that Max Verstappen kept looking at me.
We were all scattered around the garden. Lando’s girlfriend settled beside him on the outdoor sofa and intertwined her fingers with his the moment I walked over to set a few plates on the table. The gesture was far too deliberate to be accidental.
I chose to ignore it or at least, I tried to.
“So, what do you do for a living?” she suddenly asked me.
“I work as a dancer at a theater, and from time to time I also work at art exhibitions.”
I conveniently left out the job that actually occupied most of my time: working as a barista at a coffee shop.
“Really?” She smiled. It was a beautiful smile, but completely hollow. “That’s interesting. I honestly thought you’d still be working here with your mom.”
The silence that followed was almost imperceptible. But it was there. I could feel several pairs of eyes turning toward me. I took a slow breath before answering.
“No. I’ve been living on my own for years.”
“I see…” She took a sip of her drink. “I suppose growing up here must have opened a lot of doors for you.”
She hadn’t raised her voice. She hadn’t said anything openly offensive. But every single person there understood exactly what she was implying.
That anything I’d achieved was because of the Norris family. Not because I’d earned it myself.
Lando opened his mouth.
“She got her job on her own—”
“I was only saying she’s been lucky,” his girlfriend interrupted with a flawless smile.
I didn’t want to stay there anymore.
I picked up my glass and announced that I was going to the kitchen for another drink before turning away, not giving anyone the chance to stop me.
The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I had to take several deep breaths to keep my anger under control.
Who the fuck did that bitch think she was?
Who had given her the right to judge me like that?
I’d worked my ass off these past eight years to build a life for myself. No one had ever handed me anything on a silver platter… Like they most likely had with her.
Stupid bitch.
Stupid Lando.
A few years earlier, I probably would’ve destroyed her with a comeback so brutal everyone around us would’ve been clutching their pearls.
“You’re actually pretty nice, you know? If I were you, I wouldn’t have let that slide.” A deep, raspy voice pulled me out of my murderous thoughts.
I turned around to find Max filling a glass with water.
“Are you trying to start a fight?” I asked, crossing my arms as I looked at him with amusement.
Max simply shrugged.
“Only if you want to.” He took a sip of water as if he’d said nothing unusual.
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Half disbelief, half amusement.
“I don’t think the Norris family—or my mother—would appreciate me starting a fight in their backyard.” I sighed. “So I’ll just stay in here until I calm down.”
“Then I’ll stay with you,” he decided, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs.
We talked about everything.
Anyone watching us would’ve assumed we’d known each other for years instead of having met barely an hour earlier.
He told me a little about his life, his racing career, and the end of the previous championship.
I told him about my home in my country and all the different jobs I worked.
“How do you manage to have three jobs?” he asked, frowning.
It genuinely seemed impossible for him to understand how anyone could take on that much responsibility.
“Well, I only work at the theater on Friday and Saturday nights,” I explained before taking a sip of my lemonade. “Sometimes Sundays too, if Monday’s a holiday. I only have rehearsals two evenings during the week, which leaves my weekdays free to work at the coffee shop. As for the art galleries, I only work whenever there’s an exhibition, usually on weekend mornings and afternoons.”
Max looked genuinely horrified. I couldn’t help laughing, it wasn’t the first time someone had looked at me that way.
“Trust me,” I said with a shrug, “it’s not as bad as it sounds. It helps knowing it’s only temporary. I’m saving as much money as I can, and once I have enough, I’ll find a job that isn’t nearly as demanding.”
After that, our conversation drifted toward lighter topics. Nothing serious or complicated.
The truth was, Max was an excellent conversationalist, and I found myself genuinely enjoying his company.
We talked until late into the night, until almost everyone had gone home and only the two of us—and a couple of others—remained in the garden.
When we finally said goodbye, it felt like we were old friends. In my mind, I told myself it would be the first and last time we’d ever see each other; but deep down my heart hoped there could be something more.
The next morning, the first person to question me was my mother, as always.
“Remember your place when it comes to men like them. They have money, power, and connections, and they look for women of the same caliber to be with. Don’t get your hopes up over nothing.”
With a disapproving frown, she made it very clear what she thought about how close Max and I had seemed the day before.
“I know that, Mom,” I replied, rolling my eyes as I stirred my bowl of oatmeal with my spoon.
“It didn’t look that way yesterday. Open your eyes, Y/N. You’re far too old not to realize that men like them only want a one-night stand with you.” My mother continued her lecture.
Before I could answer, Lando’s voice interrupted us.
“Can I steal her for a minute?” he asked my mother, nodding in my direction.
She picked up her coffee mug.
“I’m going upstairs to take care of a few things.” Without another word, she left the kitchen.
Lando walked over to the coffee maker, poured himself a cup, and took a slow sip. I simply watched him, trying to figure out what was going on inside his head.
“So…” he began, leaning against the counter. “What did you think of Max?”
Lando was so predictable that I almost laughed.
“I actually liked him.” I took another spoonful of oatmeal, deliberately leaving it at that.
Lando simply nodded and kept watching me.
“What?” I finally asked after a few moments of silence.
“He’s a good guy,” he said after a brief pause. “But…”He stopped, searching for the right words.
I gestured with my hand for him to continue.
“He can be very impulsive.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“When he wants something, he usually goes after it without thinking too much. And I don’t want you to get hurt.” He set his mug down and leaned against the kitchen island so we were face-to-face.
I rolled my eyes with a quiet sigh.
“Lando… you don’t have to worry, okay? I know how to take care of myself. I’ve been taking care of myself for practically my whole life, and I’m doing just fine.” I motioned toward myself as if presenting proof that I was perfectly alive and well.
Lando let out a long sigh.
“It’s just…” His voice softened. “You mean a lot to me. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I want your heart to stay safe.”
For a moment, I could see the sixteen-year-old boy I’d fallen in love with reflected in his eyes. The warmth in his gaze made my stomach twist. I swallowed discreetly before forcing a small smile.
“Don’t worry. We only had one conversation yesterday. It’s not like we’re going to get married.” A nervous laugh slipped from my lips.
(…)
A few days later, it was Tuesday.
Tuesdays were usually the most boring days at the coffee shop. It was always half empty, and time seemed to move painfully slowly. I was restocking one of the display cases when Elena, one of my coworkers, walked over to me.
“There’s someone at that table asking for you.”
She pointed her thumb toward a table tucked away in the corner, occupied by a man sitting with his back to us.
Confused, I made my way over. Customers almost never requested a specific server.
“Good morning. How can I hel—” The words died in my throat before I could finish.
The man looked up calmly and offered me an easy smile.
“Good morning.” His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“Max?” I blurted out. “What are you doing here?” The disbelief in my voice was impossible to hide.
He slowly closed the menu.
“Having coffee.” He tilted his head ever so slightly “Isn’t that obvious?”
I stared at him for several seconds, completely dumbfounded. Shaking my head with a small laugh, I took his order and walked behind the counter to prepare it.
There was no way this was actually happening to me.
A few minutes later, I placed his drink in front of him, unable to hold back the question that had been bothering me.
“How did you find this place?”
“You told me where you worked.” He shrugged before taking his first sip.
“No, I’m sure I didn’t.” I frowned, folding my arms across my chest.
“You told me what neighborhood it was in,” he replied casually. “That was enough. There weren’t that many coffee shops around, so it wasn’t hard to find.”
He took another sip while looking at me over the rim of his cup.
He was lying. We weren’t close to downtown, but this wasn’t some hidden corner of the city either there were plenty of cafés around. There was no way he’d found this one that easily.
“So why did you come here?”
“Because I wanted coffee.” He shrugged like it was the most obvious answer in the world.
But that smile… There wasn’t a single innocent thing about it.
“I don’t believe you.” I narrowed my eyes.
“Fine.” He raised both hands in surrender. “I wanted to see you.”
He admitted it without hesitation. Without embarrassment. Without the slightest trace of shame. It was as if he’d just commented on the weather.
“You’re weird.” I laughed, mostly out of surprise.
“Why?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“Because we barely know each other, and you’re doing… this.”
“Exactly.” He adjusted himself in his chair until he was sitting perfectly straight. “It’s hard to get to know someone if you never see them again.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic. So I laughed once more and went back to work.
Even as I moved around the café, I could feel his eyes following me. He watched every movement carefully, and every time our eyes met, he’d give me the smallest smile.
“When are you finally leaving?” I asked, growing increasingly frustrated with his relentless staring.
“Wow.” A laugh escaped him. “Customer service isn’t exactly your strongest skill.”
When my expression didn’t change, he added,
“I’ll leave as soon as you give me your number.”
For a moment, I was speechless. The man had absolutely no shame.
“Does this little performance usually work on women?” I finally asked.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ve never tried it before.”
He said it so naturally that I found myself laughing again. It was impossible to tell when he was joking, but I had a feeling he wasn’t.
“Are you always this straightforward?”
“Yes.” He answered without the slightest hesitation.
“It’s a little intimidating.” Now it was my turn to admit something.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I studied him carefully. I expected a grin. A joke. Something. But there was nothing, he was simply waiting for my answer.
I slowly shook my head.
“No…” Then I caught myself. “Well… yes. I don’t know.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
“Make up your mind.”
“Don’t change the subject.” I pointed a finger at him.
“I’m not.” He defended himself immediately.
I sighed.
“Do you always get what you want?”
“No.” He paused to think. “But I can be very persistent.”
I couldn’t help but remember my mother’s words.
Men like them look for women from their own world.
Then I remembered Lando.
We can’t be together.
Two men from the same world, the same social standing. And yet, they seemed to speak completely different languages.
In the end, I gave him my number. Only so he’d finally leave me alone or at least, that’s what I told myself.
He stood up, took out his wallet, and paid for his coffee. Before leaving, he said with the same calmness he’d arrived with,
“See you in a few days.”
I watched him open the door and disappear before I could even think of a response. I stood there for several seconds, completely frozen.
Elena appeared behind me with the biggest grin on her face.
“Did that man just shamelessly flirt with you?”
I kept staring at the door, still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
(…)
Sunday of that same week arrived with the usual chaos that came with exhibition days.
People drifted in and out of the gallery, the constant murmur of conversations about artists most of them barely knew, and the clinking of wine glasses every few minutes. It was exhausting, but it was also the only job where I never felt like I was pretending to be someone else.
Here, I wasn’t the daughter of a housekeeper. I wasn’t the barista who served coffee all week. I wasn’t the charming, flirtatious dancer.
Here, I was simply someone talking about something she loved.
I had just finished explaining one of the pieces when I excused myself from the group to get a glass of water.
“So this is where you disappear to on Sundays.” The voice made me turn around immediately.
For a split second, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.
But it wasn’t.
Max was standing beside one of the sculptures, his hands tucked into his pockets and wearing such a calm expression that it looked like he’d been waiting for me for quite a while.
I couldn’t help smiling.
“What are you doing here?”
His gaze wandered slowly around the gallery before settling back on me.
“I came to see you.” He said it with the same ease most people would use to say good afternoon. He didn’t even try to dress it up.
A strange warmth tightened in my chest.
I shook my head, somewhere between amused and bewildered. There was something deeply unusual about him.
He didn’t flirt the way other men did. He didn’t try to impress me. He simply showed up, like wanting to see me was reason enough.
I motioned for him to walk with me as I resumed my tour of the gallery.
For nearly an hour, he didn’t interrupt me once. He simply followed me with his hands in his pockets, listening to every explanation with an attentiveness that genuinely surprised me. Every now and then, he’d stop to study one of the paintings for a few moment. But somehow, his eyes always found their way back to me.
It was unsettling.
When the last group moved on to the next room, I let out a relieved breath.
“So?” I asked as I walked over to him. “What did you think?”
He studied the painting in front of him for a few seconds.
“I didn’t understand much of it.”
I laughed.
“I figured.”
“But I liked listening to you.” The answer caught me completely off guard.
“Why?”
This time, he didn’t answer immediately. He looked at me with that infuriating calmness that seemed to define everything he did.
“Because you’re different here.”
Almost instinctively, I looked around. He was right.
Here, I didn’t measure every word before I spoke, I didn’t worry about being judged, I simply existed.
“It’s the only place where I feel like I know exactly what I’m doing.”
He nodded, like my answer had confirmed something he’d already suspected.
We continued walking among the artwork.
The silence wasn’t awkward. With Max, it never seemed to be.
Until my eyes landed on a group of elegantly dressed women chatting over glasses of wine. They all looked like they belonged there.
Then I looked down at myself. I was wearing a simple black dress I’d bought on sale nearly two years earlier. I felt out of place.
“I don’t understand what you’re doing here with me.” The words escaped before I could stop them.
Max barely turned his head.
“I already told you.”
I slowly shook mine.
“No…” I swallowed. “I’m not the kind of woman men like you usually go for.”
I expected anything, a smile, a compliment, a ‘Don’t say that’. Instead, he simply frowned, like he was genuinely trying to understand what I meant.
“And what kind is that?”
A short laugh escaped me.
“Max…” I gestured around the gallery. “Look at them.”
He did. For several seconds, he watched the women talking nearby before looking back at me.
“What about them?”
I sighed.
It was difficult to explain something I’d believed since I was a teen.
“They belong in your world, I don’t. I spend my week serving coffee just to pay my rent. My mother spent half her life cleaning other people’s houses, and she’s still cleaning your friend’s house too. So I hope you can understand why it’s hard for me to believe that someone like you would show up at two of my jobs just because he wants to get to know me.”
The silence that followed was brief, much shorter than I expected.
“I don’t understand.” His answer was so firm that it completely disarmed me. “Because all of that seems important to you. Not to me.”
Something shifted inside my chest. All my life, I’d been taught that the differences between people were impossible to ignore, that sooner or later, they always outweighed everything else.
Lando had taught me that without ever having to say it aloud.
But Max… Max seemed incapable of understanding why we were even having this conversation.
“You’re used to making decisions for other people.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“You’ve spent the last five minutes telling me what kind of woman I should like.” He took a single step closer, not enough to invade my space. Just enough to make sure I was listening. “And you still haven’t asked me what I want.”
I didn’t answer. Because, I didn’t have one.
A faint smile appeared on his face. The small one he seemed to reserve for only a handful of moments.
“It’s a lot simpler than you’re making it.”
And just like that, the conversation was over.
He didn’t insist, didn’t try to convince me. He simply turned his attention to the next painting like we’d just been discussing something as ordinary as what he planned to have for dinner.
Oddly enough that was what unsettled me the most. Because while I’d spent my entire life turning the differences between us into an impossible mountain to climb, Max didn’t seem capable of seeing that the mountain even existed.
(…)
My third job was, by far, the hardest one to explain.
Everytime I told someone I danced at a late-night theater, they always gave me the same look. The look of people who assumed far too much without asking a single question.
Eventually, I stopped explaining.
The pay was good, I loved dancing, and no one had the right to decide what I did with my own body to make a living.
Friday performances were always sold out.
The theater transformed completely after nightfall. Warm lights replaced the starkness of the stage, and the air filled with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and makeup.
By then, I’d learned how to tell the difference between the customers who came for the performance and those who mistook a stage for an invitation.
I was adjusting the last garter on my stockings in front of the mirror when one of the dancers gave me a playful nudge.
“There’s a really handsome man asking for you.”
I laughed.
“Which one?”
“No… this one’s different.”
I peeked through the side of the courtain and nearly choked on my own saliva.
Max.
Sitting at a table near the stage with a glass of whiskey in front of him.
He was wearing an immaculate dark suit and observing the room with the same quiet calm he seemed to observe absolutely everything else with.
The moment our eyes met, he lifted his glass ever so slightly in greeting.
I shook my head, fighting back a smile.
He was officially a stalker.
I’d never been embarrassed to step onto that stage. Not because I was an exhibitionist. But because, over time, I’d learned that my body could be an artistic instrument instead of something I should be ashamed of.
The music began and he lights did the rest. For several minutes, I completely forgot Max was sitting in the audience. Until one of the choreographies had me walking almost the entire length of the runway.
As I passed his table, I looked at him.
He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t have that smug expression so many men wore when they walked into that place. He was simply watching me, like he was trying to memorize every movement.
And for some reason that look made me far more nervous than all the whistles coming from the rest of the room.
The show ended nearly an hour later and that was when everything went to hell.
I slipped a satin robe over my costume and stepped outside the dressing room to get some fresh air.
I hadn’t even finished closing the door behind me when a man stepped in front of me, blocking my path.
“You dance beautifully.”
I smiled politely.
“Thank you.” I tried to walk past him, but he stepped in front of me again.
“Are you always this hard to get?”
A knot formed in my stomach.
“Excuse me, I need to get back inside.”
This time, he grabbed my wrist hard.
“Five minutes. I’m just trying to talk to you.”
Before I could react, someone forcefully pulled his hand away from my arm.
“She said no.” Max’s voice was colder than I’d ever heard it before.
The man let out a drunken laugh.
“And who the hell are you?”
“The one telling you to let her go.”
There wasn’t any more conversation. Everything happened too fast.
One shove.
Then another.
Then the first punch.
And suddenly several people were trying to pull them apart while someone shouted for security.
“Max!”
It was useless, he didn’t even seem to hear me.
The last thing I saw before walking away was a chair flying through the air.
I turned around. Not because I didn’t care, but because I knew that kind of chaos far too well. I’d spent too many years watching men decide that violence could solve everything and I wasn’t about to stand there and watch another one. I ended up sitting on the curb in the parking lot.
I couldn’t even remember when I’d started crying.
My makeup had to be completely ruined. I was wearing false eyelashes, red lipstick, a sparkly dress underneath a satin robe and I was crying in a parking lot at two o’clock in the morning.
What a depressing picture.
I heard footsteps approaching, I didn’t bother looking up because I already knew who it was.
“If you’re here to explain why you got into that fight, don’t bother.”
A brief silence followed.
“Okay.”
I frowned slightly. I had been expecting an argument, not obedience.
“You’re not going to insist?”
“You said you didn’t want to hear it.”
I finally looked up.
Max’s lip was split open. The corner of his mouth was still bleeding, and a cut above his eyebrow had already begun to swell.
I sighed.
“You look like shit.”
He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand.
“He looks worse.”
I couldn’t help laughing through my tears.
“You’re an idiot.”
For the first time since he’d walked out of the theater he smiled.
He sat down beside me without saying a word. For several minutes, neither of us spoke. We simply listened to the distant sound of passing cars, until I was the one who finally broke the silence.
“So…” I looked over at him. “Did you win?”
He turned toward me.
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“At some point they stopped punching me and started holding me back with four guys.” He shrugged. “I guess that counts as a win.”
I burst into laughter. Completely inappropriate laughter.
He ended up laughing too.
Suddenly, all the drama from the last twenty minutes felt absurdly ridiculous. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand.
“Now tell me.” I looked at him “Why did you do it?”
His expression turned serious again.
“Because he grabbed you.”
That was it, no speech, no heroic explanation. Just those four words.
Something shifted inside my chest. No one had ever reacted like that because of me, not even the people who’d actually had the right to.
“I’ve spent my whole life trying not to be a burden to anyone.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“You’re doing a terrible job.”
A laugh escaped me.
“Was that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.” He looked completely serious. “Just an observation.”
I laughed again. It was impossible to stay dramatic around him for very long.
I took a deep breath.
“I’m hungry.”
Max blinked.
“I want sushi.”
He looked at his watch.
“It’s two in the morning.”
“I know.”
“Now?”
I nodded. He stared at me for a few seconds before standing up.
“Alright.”
“Seriously?” I hadn’t expected him to agree.
“Yeah.” He lifted his car keys “Let’s go get sushi.”
I followed him across the parking lot. Halfway to the car, he looked me up and down.
“Are you really going in dressed like that?”
I looked down. High heels, a satin robe over a sequined costume, and mascara streaked all the way to my chin.
I laughed.
Then I looked at him.
His suit was wrinkled, his lip was split open. There was dried blood on the collar of his shirt.
“And you?”
He shrugged.
“We make a pretty good pair.”
I completely agreed.
Half an hour later, we were sitting in a tiny all-night sushi restaurant.
The waitress looked at him, then at me, then back at both of us. Finally, she asked as casually as if nothing were unusual,
“Extra soy sauce?”
Max looked at me. I shrugged.
“Obviously.”
She nodded without asking a single question. I waited until she’d walked away before turning back to him.
“We just ordered sushi dressed like we walked out of a fight in a cabaret.”
Max opened the box of gyoza.
“Because we did walk out of a fight in a cabaret.”
That night I laughed until my stomach hurt.
(…)
After that chaotic night, an unusual calm settled over my life.
Max stopped showing up unexpectedly at my jobs, and as much as I hated to admit it, something inside me withered a little.
Every time the café door opened, my heart would race only to sink the moment I realized it wasn’t him.
I forced myself to forget about him and buried myself in work. It was obvious that, for him, I’d been nothing more than a brief distraction before returning to his real life.
Three weeks passed.
Then one night, while I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, my phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Hi. How have you been?
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Sorry I didn’t text you sooner. Somehow I lost your number.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: I had to fight with this piece of crap technology just to get it back.
I frowned as I read the messages.
Who the hell was this?
ME: Hi, who is this?
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Seriously? 🙄
ME: Well, if I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t be asking 😒
UNKNOWN NUMBER: I’m the love of your life and your future husband.
The smile I’d been missing for the past few weeks returned instantly. Like an idiot, I kicked my feet beneath my blankets before immediately saving his number to my contacts.
ME: Jacob Elordi?
MAX: He’s dating Kendall Jenner, so I doubt he’d be texting you something like that.
ME: A girl can dream 🥲
ME: How have you been, Max?
MAX: So you did know it was me. Does this mean you’re admitting that I really am the love of your life and your future husband?
ME: I’m admitting you’re the only lunatic I know who genuinely believes that’s possible 🙂↔️
MAX: Ha. Ha. Ha. 🤡
MAX: You’re hilarious 😒
MAX: But seriously, I’m sorry I didn’t text sooner. I really couldn’t find your contact.
ME: Don’t worry about it. Although I was starting to think you’d given up on me.
MAX: That’s not a word in my vocabulary. At least not when it comes to you.
My heart skipped a beat as I read the message. He had an incredible ability to send shivers down my spine without even trying. I knew that probably wasn’t a good thing, but I couldn’t help it.
MAX: I’m in Monaco. I had to come back because I have to spend a certain amount of time here every year. You know… taxes and all that.
ME: Yeah, it’s pretty much the same with Lando. I get it.
A couple of minutes passed without another message. I assumed that was the end of the conversation.
Then the three little typing dots appeared.
MAX: Anyway, I wanted to ask if you’d like to come spend a weekend with me. I know you have work and everything, but do you think you could get a few days off?
ME: Max… Work isn’t really the issue. It’s just I can’t exactly afford to pack my bags and fly to Monaco on a whim.
What the hell did he think? That I was rich? I worked three jobs, and even then, if I went two months without work, I’d probably end up homeless.
MAX: Y/N, please. You didn’t actually think I’d let you pay for any of it, did you? What kind of man would that make me? I’ll pay for everything, I just want you to come visit me and spend some time together, not make your life any harder.
ME: Don’t you think that’s a bit much? I can count on one hand how many times we’ve actually seen each other.
I tried to reason with him. Although I already had a pretty good idea of what his answer would be.
MAX: So? I already know your family, I know where you work. Why does it matter how many times we’ve seen each other?
ME: This is all happening way too fast.
MAX: Not at all. If it were up to me, we’d already be married. I’m just trying to move at your pace.
A laugh of complete disbelief escaped me.
This man was insane. But it was the kind of insanity that felt oddly refreshing. Being around him made me feel something I hadn’t experienced in years.
Comfort.
Joy.
A sense that maybe life didn’t always have to feel so heavy. I didn’t want to admit it, but I wanted more of that feeling.
The last few years of my life had felt like I was constantly one step away from falling apart. And somehow, Max felt like a breath of fresh air.
ME: You’re going to have to do a lot more than that. But, lucky for you I accept. So when’s the trip?
It was that very same weekend. Max didn’t want to waste any time or risk me changing my mind. Which, if I was being honest, I had almost done a couple of times.
When I arrived, Max picked me up in Nice, and from there we took a helicopter to Monaco.
Everything about it was completely new to me. I tried my best not to let my amazement show, but it was obvious Max noticed.
He just laughed every time.
It was Friday, and Max had a few media interviews to get through, so he introduced me to a woman who turned out to be a fashion stylist.
Yes.
Max had arranged an entire afternoon of shopping for me.
I wanted to refuse. It felt like this was far too much, but he hadn’t exactly given me a choice, considering the stylist was the one picking out everything and insisting I try it on.
If I tried on a thousand outfits that afternoon, I still think I’d be underestimating it. Once our shopping marathon was finally over, Max came to pick me up and took me back to his apartment.
The moment I walked through the door, I threw myself onto the bed with every intention of sleeping until the next morning.
Max, however had other plans. He practically forced me out of bed and told me to get ready because we were going out for dinner.
I ended up wearing one of the beautiful dresses he’d bought for me earlier that day.
Max looked incredibly handsome himself.
That night was wonderful.
We laughed and drank far too much. By the end of the night, Max decided it was smarter to leave his car in a parking garage.
The two of us practically stumbled all the way back to his apartment.
It must have been a ridiculous sight. Anyone watching us would’ve had no idea whether I was helping Max walk or if he was the one helping me.
On Saturday, we went to the casino.
On Sunday, we spent the afternoon on a yacht.
I felt like I was floating, completely relaxed. Without a single worry in my mind.
Max was the funniest, kindest man I’d ever met. Which was exactly why, on Sunday night, as I packed my suitcase to return to my complicated reality, the apartment felt like sadness itself had settled into it.
“I don’t want you to leave.” Max’s voice was barely above a whisper.
I turned to look at him. He was leaning against one of the bedroom walls, watching me.
“I don’t want to leave either.” My voice caught slightly “But I have to go back to work.”
The moment our eyes met, I had to look away. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold his gaze without bursting into tears.
Max walked over and sat down beside me on the bed.
“Stay this week.” His words came so easily that they sounded less like a suggestion than an inevitability “Take a few more vacation days. There’s still so much I want to show you.”
He smiled softly.
“You can go home next Sunday.”
I looked at him, trying to figure out whether he was joking. He wasn’t.
His face showed nothing but determination.
“Max…” I shook my head. “It’s not as easy as you make it sound.”
“It is.” He crossed his arms. “Unless you just don’t want to spend more time with me.”
Then he looked away with a deep frown, looking every bit like an offended child.
I almost laughed.
“No, that’s not it.” I reached over and took one of his hands. “I do want to stay with you.”
“Then stay.” His voice softened “Please.”
The way he asked completely melted my heart. After letting out the deepest sigh imaginable I gave in.
The smile that spread across Max’s face was so wide it looked like he’d just won the lottery.
I contacted all three of my jobs to let them know I’d be extending my vacation. Fortunately, none of them had a problem with it.
The days that followed were just as wonderful. We did everything. We wandered through Monaco without any real destination.
We visited a nearby town and spent the day sightseeing.
Every moment felt effortless, I felt like I was living inside a dream. But nothing in my life had ever stayed perfect for long, sooner or later reality always found me.
It was Thursday when Max asked me to accompany him to a charity dinner. The event didn’t allow media or unauthorized cameras, so he assured me that my presence wouldn’t attract much attention.
What neither of us had taken into account was that several of the other Formula One drivers would be there.
Including Lando.
Some time after we arrived, my eyes met another pair that I recognized instantly. Lando’s girlfriend, Marie.
The moment Marie recognized me, she raised an eyebrow and looked me up and down. She let out a quiet laugh before leaning toward the man I immediately recognized as Lando and whispered something in his ear.
He turned sharply in my direction, but before our eyes could meet, I looked away.
Max had stepped aside to greet someone, so I forced myself to pay attention to the elegant older woman who had been talking nonstop for nearly five minutes about the venue’s décor. Out of politeness, I smiled a couple of times and made a few meaningless comments.
My heart was racing. I held onto my wine glass so tightly because I was terrified someone would notice my hands trembling.
When the woman finally excused herself, I nearly cried with grief. I didn’t want to be standing there alone.
I was about to go find Max again but that was the exact moment Lando decided to walk over.
“Out of all the places in the world…” His familiar accent caught me off guard. “I never expected to run into you here.”
I turned toward him and offered him a slightly shaky smile.
“It’s a small world.” I shrugged like it was nothing.
Marie appeared beside him wearing the same perfectly practiced smile.
“What a surprise to see you here.” Her eyes slowly traveled over my black lace dress. “I never imagined events like this were the kind of places someone like you would attend. No offense.”
She tilted her head ever so slightly. Not once did her smile leave her face.
Bitch.
“You’re right,” I replied at last. “I usually avoid places with fake people and events like this tend to be full of them.”
Lando covered a laugh with a fake cough. For the briefest moment, Marie’s smile lost some of its shine.
“Did I miss something?” Max’s calm voice interrupted us. His eyes moved from me to Lando and finally to Marie.
She smiled at him with that same rehearsed kindness.
“I was just telling Y/N that I was surprised to see her here.”
Max nodded once.
“I’m not.”
Marie blinked.
“You’re not?”
“No.” He picked up a glass from a passing server’s tray. “Wherever she is, the atmosphere usually gets a lot better.”
Heat rushed to my face.
Marie let out a short laugh.
“That’s very sweet.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.” He answered with complete calm before taking a sip of his drink. “I was just saying what I think.”
As he spoke, his hand came to rest lightly against the small of my back. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lando’s gaze immediately follow the movement.
“You came here together?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise.
I opened my mouth to answer but Max beat me to it.
“Yes.” He offered no further explanation.
“I had no idea you’d become this close.” Lando’s jaw tightened ever so slightly.
If I hadn’t spent half my teenage years watching him I probably wouldn’t have noticed. But I knew exactly what that gesture meant.
He was uncomfortable.
And somehow his discomfort became mine. I hated seeing him like that.
I shifted my weight and took another sip of my wine, hoping it would settle the knot in my stomach.
Apparently, Max noticed. Because without saying another word, he came up with an excuse to pull us away toward another part of the ballroom.
As we walked away I could still feel Lando’s eyes burning into the back of my neck.
(…)
The awkwardness disappeared as soon as we got back to Max’s apartment and our mouths found each other.
Our hands didn’t stay still for a single moment, and with some effort we managed to get out of our clothes.
Max bent me over the couch, pulled the thin fabric of my underwear aside to get better access to my wet pussy, and without much consideration, thrust into me hard. My eyes fell shut as I felt him hit the deepest part of me.
His thrusts were hard and rhythmic. The pleasure was so overwhelming that moans began spilling from his mouth, and with a quick movement, he gave my ass a hard slap.
That made me arch my back even more, and matching his rhythm, I began moving to meet every one of his thrusts.
At one point, I stopped lubricating and began to feel a slight burning sensation that drove me even crazier. My moans of pleasure grew louder, which made him lose himself in the pleasure even more.
We changed positions a couple of times until the pressure building inside me became too much, and I came hard.
A few more thrusts from Max, and he came too with a guttural sound. He spilled the result of his orgasm across my stomach.
It was the first time we’d had sex, and the son of a bitch had passed the test.
A while later, we were already in bed. Max was asleep beside me, but I couldn’t fall asleep.
My mind kept racing, and with a growing sense of concern, I replayed everything that had happened throughout the evening.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one feeling restless. A few minutes later, my phone lit up with a text message.
From Lando.
LANDO: Can we talk?
LANDO: I’m outside Max’s building. Please come down.
My heart immediately began pounding. This couldn’t be happening.
I looked over at Max.
He was fast asleep, one arm stretched across my side of the bed, a faint crease between his brows like he somehow managed to overthink even in his sleep.
I let out a slow breath.
I grabbed a jacket, scribbled a quick note telling him I’d gone out for a walk, and took the elevator downstairs.
Lando was leaning against his car with his hands buried in his pockets. When he heard my footsteps, he looked up. For a moment neither of us spoke.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked at last.
A tired smile crossed his face.
“I guessed.”
We walked in silence until we reached the edge of the harbor. The lights from the yachts shimmered across the dark water.
“Are you having a good time?” he asked suddenly.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
Silence settled between us again. I knew this kind of silence far too well.
Lando’s silences were never empty, they were always filled with questions he didn’t know how to ask.
“So…” He finally looked at me. “What’s going on between you and Max?”
There it was.
I slipped my hands into my jacket pockets.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
I slowly shook my head.
“We haven’t talked about it.”
“But you’re together.” He pressed a little harder.
“We’re spending time together.”
I watched his jaw tighten.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Maybe not to you.”
His eyes locked onto mine.
“And to you?”
I lowered my gaze to the water.
The truth was I didn’t know how to answer. All I knew was that, with Max, I never felt the need to question where I belonged.
He simply made room for me.
“You don’t have to answer.” His voice was noticeably colder this time “I’m just trying to understand.”
I smiled sadly.
“Understand what?”
“What’s happening.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
His breathing changed ever so slightly.
It was barely noticeable. But it was enough for me to realize he was losing his composure.
“Do you like him?”
I didn’t answer.
“Y/N.”
“I don’t know.”
It was a lie. Of course I knew, I just wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
“So you do like him?”
I sighed.
“Lando…”
“Answer me.”
I looked up.
“Why?”
The silence stretched between us. Because he couldn’t answer that question without admitting something he’d spent years burying.
I slowly shook my head.
“You don’t have the right to ask me that.”
I watched his expression change.
“Why not?”
“You’re seriously asking me that?” A bitter laugh escaped me. I took a step toward him. “You have a girlfriend.”
Another step.
“And years ago, you made it painfully clear that there could never be anything between us.”
My voice remained calm.
That was the worst part. I didn’t even have to raise it anymore to remember how much it had hurt.
“Y/N…”
“No.” This time, I interrupted him “Do you know what the hardest part was?”
A knot tightened in my throat.
“It wasn’t losing you. It was spending years believing there was something about me that made me impossible to choose.”
The words poured out on their own. As if they’d been waiting years to be spoken.
“After that day, I started looking at everyone like they belonged to different worlds. I started believing there were doors meant for other people but never for me. That I could work twice as hard, push myself three times harder, and I’d still always be nothing more than the housekeeper’s daughter. Because the only man I’d ever fallen in love with taught me exactly that.”
Lando closed his eyes.
“I never wanted you to feel that way.”
“But you did.” My voice barely rose above a whisper.“And the worst part is I understood. I never hated you for choosing that path, because even I believed you were right.”
He swallowed hard.
“Things changed.”
“No.” I slowly shook my head. “They changed for you. I was the one who had to learn how to live with what you left behind.”
For several long seconds the only sound was the water lapping against the dock.
Then he spoke again.
“You think Max is different.”
I frowned.
“He is.”
A bitter smile appeared on his face.
“No, Y/N. He’s just more impulsive.”
A terrible feeling settled in my stomach.
“What do you mean?”
“When he gets bored, he’ll move on with his life, like everyone else. He’s not taking you seriously.”
My chest tightened.
“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about.”
He took a step closer.
“Do you honestly think a guy like Max Verstappen is planning to marry you?”
The question landed between us like a stone.
“Lando…”
“He takes you on trips, he buys you beautiful clothes, he brings you to events. Don’t you see it? For him, you’re…” He hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “…an accessory.”
Something inside me shattered. But he still wasn’t finished.
“A pretty girl he can spoil for a while. His sugar baby.”
The slap echoed across the silent harbor. I didn’t think, it just happened.
Slowly, Lando lifted a hand to his cheek.
I struggled to catch my breath, tears blurred my vision.
“Never…” My voice broke. “Never degrade me like that again. Because if there’s anyone who knows how hard I fought to build the life I have it’s you.”
He opened his mouth, but I didn’t let him speak.
“For years, I thought my last name was the problem, my mother, my money, my background. But tonight you proved something. The problem was never where I came from. The problem was that you never found the courage to choose me and now you’re trying to convince me that no one else ever could.”
I slowly shook my head.
“I don’t believe that anymore.” I turned around before he could answer.
I didn’t want to go back to the apartment. Not yet.
I needed to walk.
I needed the wind to remind me that I was still breathing. So I kept walking along the harbor without looking back while the tears washed away what little makeup I still had left.
I have no idea how long I walked.
The gentle sound of the water against the docks was the only thing keeping the chaos in my head from swallowing me whole.
My tears had dried a long time ago, but the weight in my chest hadn’t gone anywhere.
“I’ve been looking for you for twenty minutes.” Max’s voice startled me.
He was walking toward me quickly, his hair completely disheveled and a hoodie hastily thrown over the T-shirt he’d fallen asleep in. He stopped in front of me and took a deep breath.
“What happened?”
I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
“No.” His answer came immediately. “Don’t lie to me.”
I looked at him for a few seconds. I’d never seen him like this before.
He didn’t look angry, he looked scared.
“Y/N…” His voice softened. “What happened?”
The knot in my throat returned.
“I talked to Lando.”
I watched his jaw tighten. But he didn’t say a word, he simply waited.
“He texted me… so I went downstairs to talk to him.”
I told him everything. How Lando had come all the way to the building. How we’d walked along the harbor. How, at first, he’d only asked questions. Then I told him about the jealousy. About our teenage years together. About the way he’d rejected us before we’d ever really had a chance. About the argument we’d had that night and finally about the words that still echoed inside my head.
“His sugar baby.” I couldn’t repeat that part without my voice breaking.
Max stood perfectly still through my entire story. He didn’t interrupt me once, only after I’d finished did he finally speak.
“He said that to you?”
I nodded.
He let out a slow breath.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“No, you’re not killing anyone.” A laugh escaped me through my tears.
“Alright.” He corrected himself with complete seriousness “Then I’m just going to break his nose.”
The image was so absurd that I laughed, for real this time.
He frowned slightly.
“I wasn’t joking.”
“I know.”
“I’m completely serious.”
“Please don’t.” I shook my head as I wiped my cheeks.
He sighed dramatically.
“You’re no fun.”
Silence settled between us again. Then he took a step closer.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“Did you actually believe him?”
I didn’t answer. Because part of me had. And, of course he knew it.
“Y/N…” He shook his head in disbelief. “Do you know what the very first thing I thought when I saw you?”
I slowly shook my head.
“That you were beautiful.”
Heat rushed into my cheeks.
“And then I thought you were far too smart to ever end up talking to me.”
I stared at him, completely confused. A small smile tugged at his lips.
“I was wrong about the second part.”
“Idiot.” I lightly punched his arm.
“A little.” His smile slowly faded. “But I never once minded how much money you had, where your mother was, where you worked. Not once.”
He took a slow breath before continuing.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t see everything you do. I do, I know you work harder than anyone I’ve ever met, I know you’ve spent years building your life on your own and I know nobody handed you anything.”
His voice remained calm. So calm that it hurt.
“What I don’t understand…” He paused. “…is why you still believe any of that makes you worth less.”
I lowered my eyes.
“Because for a long time It was true.”
“No.” His answer was immediate. “For a long time, people convinced you it was true. That’s not the same thing.”
The words hung between us. No one had ever put it that way before. I’d spent my entire life believing my insecurities were simply the logical consequence of my circumstances.
It had never occurred to me that they might also be a lie I’d heard too many times.
“Lando didn’t stop loving you because you were the housekeeper’s daughter.”
My head snapped up.
He continued before I could speak.
“He stopped fighting for you because he was afraid and fear always finds elegant excuses to hide behind, sometimes it’s money, sometimes it’s family, sometimes it’s social class. But underneath, It’s still fear.”
My eyes filled with tears again.
Not because I was sad, because I felt relieved. For the first time someone had separated my worth from the choice Lando had made all those years ago.
“What if one day you’re afraid too?” The question came out so quietly I almost regretted asking it.
Max smiled. That same calm smile that somehow managed to frustrate me and comfort me at the exact same time.
“Of course I am.”
I blinked. I hadn’t expected that answer.
“You are?”
“Terrified.”
“Of what?”
“That one day you’ll get tired of me.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.
A disbelieving laugh escaped me.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged “But that fear doesn’t make me want to push you away. It makes me want to be closer to you.”
Something inside me finally gave way or maybe finally settled into place. I still wasn’t sure which.
“I’m not Lando.” His voice was quieter than ever. “And I’ll never ask you to make yourself smaller just to make my life easier. If this ever ends…” He pointed to himself “It’ll be because I did something wrong. Not because your last name is different from mine, not because your mother cleaned someone’s house and certainly…”
He shook his head, almost offended by the thought.
“…not because anyone thinks you can be bought with a dress or a trip. You’re not something that can be bought, you’re not a thing. You’re the woman I’m falling in love with.”
The world seemed to fall completely silent.
There was only him and me.
For years, I’d confused one man’s rejection with my worth as a woman.
I’d allowed a decision born from fear to define the way I saw myself and now, standing in front of me, was another man.
A man who came from that exact same world. But who had never once asked me to change who I was to make room for me in his life.
He had simply made room for me.
I smiled through my tears.
“I think you’re completely insane.”
“I already knew that.” A grin spread across his face.
I laughed, shaking my head.
“And for some reason I still don’t understand I think I’m starting to like all that insanity of yours.”
His eyes lit up instantly.
“Does that mean I can officially say I’m your future husband now?”
The laugh that burst from my lips echoed across the entire harbor.
For years I’d mistaken fear for reality. I’d believed love always came with conditions, with explanations, with sacrifices.
That night, I finally understood something. When someone truly wants to stay they stop looking for reasons to leave. And Lando’s decision had always spoken about his limits.
Never about mine.
(…)
Eight months later, I still found it absurd that anyone could call a paddock “home.”
And yet, there I was.
A cup of coffee in one hand, a paddock pass hanging around my neck, and a team radio that I understood absolutely nothing from, waiting for Max to finish the pre-qualifying engineering briefing.
One of the mechanics walked past me.
“Five more minutes.”
I nodded like that information had been meant for me. Leaning against one of the garage walls, I watched the organized chaos unfolding around me.
The first time I’d ever stepped into the paddock, I’d felt completely out of place.
Now I didn’t.
I still understood barely half the conversations about setup changes, tire degradation, or telemetry, but I’d stopped feeling like I needed to understand everything to deserve being there.
“Have you been waiting for long?” Max had just stepped out of the garage, zipping up the top half of his race suit as he walked toward me.
“Seven minutes.”
He glanced at his watch.
“It’s been nine.”
“I was giving you a little margin so you wouldn’t feel bad.”
“How thoughtful.” A quiet laugh escaped him.
He stopped in front of me and, without saying a word, took my coffee from my hands. He took a sip before casually handing it back.
“Thanks.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“That was my coffee.” I frowned.
“It’s our coffee now.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“It worked.”
I rolled my eyes.
I’d learned that arguing with Max was an absolute waste of time. Not because he was always right, but because he never seemed interested in winning. He simply kept talking until the other person gave up.
One of the engineers appeared at the garage entrance.
“Max. Time to go.”
He lifted a hand to let him know he’d be there in a second. Before leaving, he turned back toward me.
“Where are you going to be?”
I looked at him, confused.
“Here.”
“Good.” He nodded once “That way I’ll know where to find you when I’m done.”
And then he was gone.
There was no kiss.
No I love you.
He didn’t even look back.
He simply disappeared into the crowd of engineers like it had never crossed his mind that, when he came back, I might be anywhere other than exactly where I’d said I’d be.
And I would be.
I smiled without realizing it. Sometimes I forgot there had once been a time when I believed love meant waiting for someone to find the courage to choose you.
With Max there had never been any waiting.
He had simply shown up.
First at a coffee shop, pretending he’d driven halfway across the city just because he wanted a cup of coffee.
Then at an art gallery, listening to me talk for hours about paintings he probably wouldn’t remember.
Later, sitting beside me on a curb at two in the morning with a split lip, like getting into a fight was the most natural ending to a first date.
And now I was the one showing up at racetracks.
Waiting for him among engines, radios, and stacks of tires, in a world that had once felt completely out of reach but had, little by little, made room for me.
I suppose, in the end we became each other’s favorite coincidence.
“Verstappen!” one of the mechanics shouted from inside the garage. “Move it! Your future wife isn’t going to do qualifying for you!”
Laughter immediately erupted from inside the garage.
I rolled my eyes automatically.
I didn’t even have to look to know exactly what expression Max had on his face.
Pure satisfaction.
I buried my face in my hands as I laughed.
For the first time since I was a little girl, the future no longer felt like a place I needed permission to enter.
Because, in the end, love hadn’t come into my life to give me a place in the world.
It had come to remind me that the place I belonged had always been mine.
hi! If you'd like to be added to my general taglist or to the taglist for a specific driver, feel free to leave a comment below or send me a message. You can find the list of drivers I usually write for in my masterlist. Thank you so much for all the support 🫶🏽✨
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You've been flirting with Max for months, and he's obsessed with why he can't bond with your cats. He'll ask you to be his girlfriend, but why would you accept when even your cats don't like him? In other words, Max is trying to win the hearts of your cats.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Mostly fluff. Jos Verstappen (mentioned). Bullying (by your cats on Max). Max feels his safety is at risk and he feels humiliated because of your cats(nothing serious, he's just being dramatic). Max is traumatized because of your cats. Crying.Some financial concerns.
ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: I started writing this casually, but it turned out to be so funny that I suddenly found myself unnecessarily extending it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 13.1k
ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
Max and you met a few months ago at Lando's birthday party. The little flirtatious conversation you started turned into hours of talking about hobbies, work, and future life plans in a corner of the party.
A few days later, you went on a coffee date at a café. A week later, he took you to a nice restaurant for dinner. A month later, he invited you to his house for the first time.
It was simple. Pasta, wine, and cuddles. And of course, you met his cats. Jimmy and Sassy, while quite independent, seem to appreciate your presence.
Sassy even lets you hold her, even if only for five seconds. Jimmy comes and rubs against your legs occasionally throughout the night. And Max seems quite happy about it.
He might get used to it. He wants to. He wants to make these kinds of moments a routine. He really likes you. There's nothing officially defined between you two yet, but he's eager to call you his girlfriend and, slowly but surely, include you in every aspect of his life.
-
You hadn't seen Max for three weeks. He'd been abroad for a while because of the triple race week. According to your check, his private jet should be landing in half an hour. You prepared a surprise welcome and headed to the airport. After a short drive, you parked your car and waited. Fifteen minutes later, Max appeared at the exit gate. He was wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and carrying a navy blue backpack. He stopped when he saw you. You smiled and started walking towards him. "Surprise!"
As soon as you reached him, he pulled you close and hugged you. "It really is a surprise." He kissed you. "You can get me used to this." When you pulled away, you looked at him. "Noted, now, if you'll excuse me, I'll keep you at my house for a while."
"I'm all yours." He sat in the passenger seat and you started the car.
-
Your house smelled of a combination of perfume, the flowers you grew, and a few other things he couldn't quite understand. This scent was enough to significantly lighten the burden of his entire weekend.
"We're here!" you call out as you take off your shoes. A few seconds later, he hears three different paw prints. "Hello, kids." Two orange cats and a ragdoll cat appear at the end of the hallway. The orange ones come and start rubbing against your legs. You pick one up. "Max, this is Serafina, and Serafina, this is Max." And then you pick up the other one. "And this is Oscar." Max strokes both their heads. "Hello," Oscar flinches at Max's touch and rests his head on your neck. Serafina, meanwhile, is busy gazing at you admiringly, completely ignoring Max. This wasn't exactly the reaction Max wanted. He's a little disappointed, but he doesn't mind. He's no stranger to this, having lived with Jimmy and Sassy for years. "They're not very friendly, are they?"
You put the cats down. "They just need a little time to get used to you. They're all different personalities, though, and not very social." Max shakes his head. "And her?"
Referring to the ragdoll still standing in the corner of the hallway, looking as if she's judging him. "Ah, that's Blissa. It'll probably take you a little longer to get along with her than the others."
-
Max Verstappen isn't usually the type to take things personally. This was a bit too dramatic for him. That was before he met your cats.
"They hate me." Yes, the four-time world champion and "bad guy of F1" is now lying on your chest, suffering existential angst because of your cats. "I've never been so humiliated in my life."
"Aren't you being a little dramatic?" You were trying to suppress a laugh as you stroked his hair. "I told you it would take some time."
He lifted his head and rested his chin on it, looking at you. "Yes, that was a month ago, a whole month." You roll your eyes and laugh.
"You saw their personalities, they're not exactly the classic type."
He gives up and rests his face back against your chest. "I know."
-
He knew. You'd mentioned all three of them in your first conversation about cats. But he thought you'd exaggerated a bit.
Well, apparently you not.
First, there was Oscar.
The youngest one.
He was quite shy and timid. He was newborn when you adopted him. So, you were confident he hadn't experienced any trauma or bad things. But for some reason you didn't know, he tended to be easily triggered by loud noises and sudden movements.
When guests came to the house, like Max, he would run to another room for a while, then come back in but stay behind the sofa. If he didn't sense any movement after at least twenty minutes, he would finally come to your lap. Max made sure to move very slowly and speak in a low voice when he was with him.
And then there was Serafina.
The middle one.
You called her a little diva. She loved wearing pet costumes, having someone brush her with their favorite comb for hours, having her picture taken, and looking at herself in the mirror.
Serafina wasn't like Oscar; she didn't run away from Max. She just didn't care about him. Seriously.
When she saw the two of you, she'd come straight into your lap. She wouldn't even look at him.
If she saw Max coming from the other side of the hallway, she would act as if she hadn't seen him, walking past him between his legs and continuing on her way.
If Max was changing in the bedroom, she would stand in front of him and look at herself in the mirror.
If you two were taking a photo together, she would come up to you, climb onto your lap, and that would cause him to stay out of the frame.
But the worst was Blissa.
Your biggest cat.
Blissa, in whose big blue eyes he was sure he could see the murder plots.
But to you, Blissa was just a cute little baby with trust issues who was overly protective of you.
Chucky was a baby, too. Max thought to himself.
It seems like Blissa has a personal vendetta against Max. At least, that's how Max feels. The look she gave him when he first arrived home is still there.
Did Max just walk in? Blissa is standing around the corner of the hallway.
She's looking at him.
Judgingly.
Are you having dinner with Max in the kitchen? Blissa jumps and sits in the chair furthest from the dining table.
She's looking at him.
Judgingly.
You're watching a movie together in your living room. Max puts his arm around the back of your head. He pulls you closer. Blissa is in the corner of the door.
She's looking at him.
Judgingly.
Max wakes up because of the light shining into your bedroom. He turns to the side and looks at you sleeping beside him. You're lying face down. Your hair is falling over your face, your expression peaceful. He doesn't wake you up to shake off the fatigue of last night; he's content to enjoy the view.
And there's a paw.
It's resting protectively on your back. And he makes eye contact with Blissa.
She looking at him.
Judgingly.
And worst of all... Max recognizes that judgmental look from somewhere,from his father.
Jos Verstappen.
If his father had died and reincarnated in a cat's body, he knew that would be Blissa.
-
"She's going to kill me."
"What?" You're lying side by side in bed. Blissa is lying in your belly. "I can see it in her eyes. She's planning it."
Here we go again. You think to yourself.
"She might be a little rebellious sometimes, but she's not doing anything physically. She hasn't tried to bite or scratch you, has she?"
He answers as if it were obvious. "Because she doesn't want to be in a suspicious position when she kills me."
You laugh and ignore him. You lift Blissa up in both hands and speak in a baby voice. "What is he saying to you, my girl, do you hear?" Blissa sweetly murmurs as if she wasn't the one who gave him deadly glares five seconds ago. "Are you scaring Daddy, my girl?"
And Max's brain freezes.
You call him "Dad."
The circuit breakers in his brain flip one by one.
You include him in your little family.
You develop a bond.
And he's about to have a heart attack from happiness. And he makes his decision. He will win over these cats.
And those days may not be as far away as he thinks.
-
You need to attend a meeting because of a problem at work, but Oscar has been quite sensitive lately. You're hesitant to leave him at home unsupervised. Max suggests you drop him off at his house on your way to work.
Forty minutes later, you're at his door. In one hand you hold Oscar, in the other a bag containing his food, vitamins, and a small plush toy he likes to keep by his side when he's stressed. You give them both a kiss. "I love you both, don't make a fuss, I'll be back in two or three hours."
Max freezes. You just told him you love him.
For the first time.
Well, technically you said you both, but...
His cheeks are burning.
You don't have time to wait for Max's response or listen to Oscar's meowing, which sounds like a cry of anguish. You run down the stairs.
To avoid disturbing the neighbors, Max quickly closes the door. Oscar jumps out of Max's lap and purrs, frantically searching for a place to hide. Finally, he crawls under the sofa next to his Sim. "Oh come on, Oscar," Max murmurs. He knows the cat well enough to know he won't come out. He prepares his food and water, and puts everything aside, including his plush toy. He puts on one of his headphones and starts sim-racing.
Jimmy and Sassy sense a change in the air. There's an unfamiliar smell in the house. Their curiosity draws them to the living room. After a few minutes of exploration, Jimmy makes eye contact with Oscar under the sofa. Oscar's fur stands on end.
Jimmy, sensing his tension, slowly sits down. Sassy circles the sofa, watching them both, as if trying to prevent a scene by keeping a close eye on them.
After a few minutes, Oscar relaxes. He's getting used to their presence. Jimmy seems to notice this and slowly approaches him. They circle around each other, sniffing each other. Finally, they sniff each other and sit close.
Sassy follows behind them, sniffs a few times, and then begins to lick Oscar's head, a sign of her possessiveness.
After a while, Oscar begins to explore his surroundings. The house is full of shiny objects and small figurines that are unfamiliar to him. Then something on the coffee table catches his attention.A small Rebull car made of Lego.
Oscar jumps onto the sofa and then onto the coffee table. He starts sniffing the toy F1 car. Then he gives it a paw swipe, as if to test it. After that, Sassy jumps onto the coffee table. As if to say, "Let me show you how to do it," she swipes at the car.
The toy car falls off the table and starts rolling away. Oscar jumps after it and chases it. The car stops, Oscar swipes harder. This time the toy car goes much further, all the way to Max's Sim chair. It stops after hitting the chair. Oscar goes to catch it. And then he sees it.
A much larger version of the strange thing he was playing with. The person he saw in his owner's house is staring that thing. Oscar wiggles his bottom and jumps onto the monitor with great enthusiasm.
"WHAT THE FU—" Max was about to yell because of something that had landed right next to his steering wheel when he saw it was Oscar. He stopped. Oscar was watching the car with great interest. Max glanced at Oscar while continuing the race.
"What was that, man?" one of his friends asked. "Yes, is something wrong?"
"No, everything's fine, focus on the race." He whispered to avoid scaring Oscar. "Why are you whispering?" Max took a deep breath. "Later, guys."
Because a cat's affection and my love life depend on it. He thought to himself.
Almost an hour later, the race was nearing its end. During this time, Oscar first circled the keyboard, watching from right in front of the screen, then gave the car a little paw nudge. Then, probably tired, he continued watching from Max's lap.
Yes, from Max's lap. And he almost caused Max to run into the barrier in excitement.
Having crossed the finish line, Max said goodbye to his friends and turned off the computer. The cat in his lap looks content. "You really like F1, huh?" He slowly brings his hand closer to Oscar's nose. Oscar sniffs. Max then gently begins to stroke its head. Oscar purrs. He's content.
The door knocks. You've arrived. Max picks up Oscar and goes to open the door. "Hey, how was your meeting?" You grumble as you enter. "Don't ask me anything—" You notice your cat, quite content in Max's lap. You turn to him in surprise. "How did you manage that?"
Max picks up the car from the floor and gives it to Oscar. The cat immediately starts playing with it. "I think we have something in common that we both like." And then he turns to you. "Actually, two." Your cheeks flush.
One is gone, two remain.
-
The second one happens much faster. "Serafina, please, I need a second." You were scolding your cat, who was trying to climb on you while you were putting on your earrings. "What does she want?"
Max was watching your gorgeous reflection in the mirror while also looking at your cat. "I didn't have time to brush her today, and if I do it now, we'll be late for our reservation. I'm not even ready yet." And then a lightbulb goes off in Max's head. "I'll do it, where's the brush?" You look at him in the mirror. "In the drawer inside."
Max frantically grabs Serafina, who was trying to climb on you, and carries her to the living room. Without letting her escape, he slowly begins to brush the fur on your wriggling cat's back. And Serafina... stops. She slowly turns her head towards Max. "You like it, don't you?"
For the first time, the cat looks at Max as if appreciating something he is doing. Then she stretches out comfortably in his lap, surrendering herself to him. Max continues brushing her with a big smile, stroking the fur on her neck. The cat closes her eyes and purrs.
You enter the room, finished getting ready. The view is priceless. Serafina is happily purring in Max's lap. Oscar is circling Max's legs. "You seem to be having fun." Max looks at you. "I think I'm doing a good job." You sit down next to him, laughing, and kiss his cheek. "You really are. But now we have to go to our date." Max gently puts the cat down.
The second one is gone, only one remains.
-
It was a horrible day. Your nerves were completely frayed, and things weren't going well at work. Even though you loved your job, your bosses seemed determined to make your life miserable.
When Max called you to meet up, even though you tried to hide it, he could tell you'd been crying from the sound of your voice. No matter how well you faked it, he was at your door. After knocking a few times, he finally heard footsteps. And finally, you opened the door.
"Hey-woah-" Your eyes and nose were red from crying. You were wearing a sweatshirt you'd set aside for days when you liked to cry, leggings, and owl slippers. If you didn't look so sad, Max would have said this was the sweetest sight he'd ever seen.
He quickly enters and closes the door. He sits you down on the couch. He cups your face in his hands. "What happened, tell me."
"I-I just-" Before you can finish your sentence, your crying intensifies. You press your face against his neck. He doesn't force you to continue. He strokes your hair with one hand while patting your back with the other.
And then you see her. Blissa is there. She's looking at both of you. But this time she's worried. She's looking at you.
Finally, you stop crying. "I'm thinking of quitting my job. But I'm not sure when I can find a new one. I have rent to pay. I can't sleep because of the stress—"
"Hey, hey, it's okay." Max interrupts you. He wipes away the tears that were about to flow again. "Actually, I've been thinking about asking you this for a long time i think its the time." You look at him. "What?" "To move our relationship forward, maybe introduce ourselves to people as a couple and have you move in with me. You don't have to worry about rent, and you can have plenty of time to look for the job you want."
You look at him in disbelief. "Are you serious? You don't have to do that."
"I do. I want you, your cats, everything about you, everything about us. I want you." He laughs. "Otherwise, why would I be so obsessed with getting your cats to like me? I didn't want to see a little Jos Verstappen lookalike in my house." You laugh when he refers to Blissa as "little Jos Verstappen."
"Don't ever call my baby that again."
And then Blissa jumps into Max's arms. You both stare at her in shock. For the first time, Blissa looks at him with curiosity. And then at you, who were crying just moments ago but are now laughing. She tries to make sense of it all with her little cat brain. And then she reaches her mouth towards Max's hand.
"Oh my god, she's going to kill me—" She takes the sleeve of Max's sweatshirt into her mouth and tugs at it. She drags his hand and places it on yours. "Oh my god." You realize what Blissa is doing.
She was accepting.
She was accepting Max.
She was showing it in her style.
And then Blissa lies down between the two of you. Max is in shock. "She loves me, oh my god, she loves me." He murmurs in shock. With his free hand, he strokes Blissa's belly. "I did it."
You look at him, smiling. "Yes, you did."
He kisses you.
He did it.
He really did it.
And now you can move on to the next chapter of your life.
nooooooo don't be a coward, write the fic!!! We could never judge you, we want the filth!!! ALL of it!!!
Swallow | LN⁴
🔸️ inspired by this ask
🔸️ summary ──── Summer break is about to end, which is why they are taking advantage of every moment of peace they have left before returning to the real world.
🔸️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader
🔸️ rating ──── explicit
🔸️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, enclosed environment, sexual innuendo, cursing, light teasing, smut, oral ─ (f)receiving, cum play & spitting, unprotected sex, overstimulation, Lando is obsessed, fluff at the end, bittersweet because they don’t want summer to end (this was sitting unedited in my drafts since late August oopsies).
🔸️ word count ──── 2.7k
🔸️ date ──── Nov. 12, 2025
🔸️ a/n ──── I know it’s been a couple of months and this is barely enough, but I’ve been facing the horrors, my friends, and they persist (both physically and mentally). I’m trying to go back into writing one-shots, but the updates might come a bit slower, because when I’m not around, my writer mind is plagued with scenarios and schemes for the book I’m (still) attempting to get to a complete first draft. It’s... a lot of work, but thank you for being so patient with me. Next update coming soon (hopefully) 😁🤞🏻
📍 A secluded cove on the Costa Brava, Spain
IT BEGAN TO rain in the morning, and by lunchtime, it became clear that the weather had settled on a mood of its own. The sound of raindrops against the windows has become the rhythm of the day, shattering any hope they had of spending at least a few hours on the beach before their vacation ends and having to return to real life.
The resort they are staying at looks beautiful even under grey skies, though. Pale stone walls glisten wet, and beyond the balcony, the palm trees bend lazily with the weight of the storm.
Inside their room, curtains sway lazily with the evening breeze, blending the smell of salt from the sea outside with the smell of sex from the hours they’ve spent tangled in each other, since they couldn’t find another activity to keep them busy. Although they tried to watch a Spanish movie that was on, but quickly got bored of throwing incorrect translations at each other.
She lies against him now, her body looking like a beautiful wreck of exhaustion, skin warm and newly tanned. She’s draped in one of his white shirts, though it does little to hide the curve of her thighs or the heat radiating off her still.
Lando knows he should let her sleep. There is still plenty of time until dinner, and the fact that they’ll have to wake up early to catch their flight is just another reason why they both need to rest. They’ve been at it all afternoon — he swears it wasn’t his intention, but can’t complain either — and the faint pink marks his fingers left on her hips remind him just how rough he can get in the haze of her pleas.
Truth be told, his cock hasn’t stayed soft for longer than a couple of hours at a time since they arrived. One glance at his girlfriend, seeing her sweaty and ruined by him, and he’s suddenly hard again, obsessed with the way she falls apart under his touch. Again and again, no matter how many times he had brought her to this state before.
A small smile curls at his lips as he lets his hand slip under the hem of the shirt. The skin of her stomach is silky smooth, hot and familiar, but lower, his fingers graze the sticky mess he left buried inside her. It makes him sigh quietly, her face distorting in pleasure being the only image his mind can still project.
Careful not to wake her yet, Lando nudges her knees apart, making more room for himself between them. The sight alone has him swallowing hard, her thighs parting for him like instinct. His heart kicks in his chest, but it isn’t nerves. At this point, it’s pure madness. He lives for worshiping her, keeping her full, reminding her times on end that no matter how needy she gets, he’ll always be there to take care of her.
When he’s close enough, her scent hits him full force, sweet and dizzying in the way it makes his mouth water like he’s been conditioned to; he is sure nothing in the world tastes that good. She lingers on his tongue, in his lungs, in every heartbeat that stumbles when she’s near. It’s the way she’s so deep under his skin to the point it turned him into someone who forgets where he ends and she begins. He’s simply transfixed by the sight of her, used and wrecked, already stretched by the thick weight of him, and he has to remind himself that he can still be a man who knows restraint, even when every part of him is aching to give in. It should make him feel guilty, but then Lando remembers all the times she begged him to fuck her harder, and any trace of guilt evaporates under the memory that gives him goosebumps every time he recalls it.
She did this to him without even trying, and he let her.
Would let her again.
Would let himself fall from grace, if it meant she’d smile when he landed.
Gently, with the kind of patience only she brings out in him, he drags a finger up her slit, gathering every bit of slick that’s leaking from her. He has to bite back a whimper in the process, forcing himself to stay quiet in case she stirs. Then slowly, he eases one finger inside, and the reaction is instant: her body clamps down on him like she’s been waiting for it all along, pulling at his finger with such greedy tightness it makes his breath catch. As a reaction, the girl lets out a soft cry, but she doesn’t fully wake.
Knowing he’s running out of time, Lando leans in, mouth parting, and presses his tongue flat against her swollen folds. The same taste that haunts his dreams floods his senses now, both salty and sweet and achingly familiar, a hum of relief coming out of his throat. The sound vibrates through her, makes her hips twitch subconsciously, pushing closer to his mouth as if even in this in-between state, she knows he won’t fail to make her see stars.
Lando closes his eyes, lost to the sensation of her warmth and softness coating his tongue. He licks long stripes along her clit, soothing the soreness he left behind with tender strokes. Every little squirm of hers drives him deeper into that madness, unintentionally causing him to crave more of her: more sounds, more reactions, more proof that she’ll always be his most intoxicating obsession.
Gradually, his breath kicks up, his cock straining painfully against the mattress as he grinds down, just trying to take the edge off while he devours her; the faint whisper of his name on her lips only fuels him further.
Her thighs quiver, then close around his head, wanting to keep him there forever as if it is his home, his safe place.
Lando chuckles against her, but he pries them back open with firm hands on her inner thighs. “Nah, baby. Keep ‘em wide for me.”
And then he’s there, his tongue pushing into her, splitting her open with one goal in mind. She gasps, moaning properly now, fingers darting into his curls, tugging at them with desperation that makes his heart race faster. The more she pulls, the harder he works, flattening his tongue, swirling it, lapping up everything she gives him.
Her voice is music in his ears, breaking on his name, “Lando. Fuck… Lando, please.”
He grins, pulling back to rasp, “There she is,” half growl, half praise, before he dives back in.
This time, he presses his plump lips against her gaping hole, sealing around her with no way of missing anything. And sucks. Hard. His stomach flips, the taste hitting him like a punch: the sharp tang of her arousal, mixed with the saltier remnants of his cum he’d left inside her. It’s borderline obscene, too intimate, and it makes him whine like he’s the one being pleasured.
She cries high in her throat, arching up into his mouth, her body trembling under the assault of his tongue working deep, pulling every drop out of her. Once he’s satisfied and makes sure he can’t gather anymore, Lando lifts his head from between her legs, his lips shining like a blanket of stars on a clear midnight sky. Then he moves fast, bracing himself above her, his curls wild, pupils blown wide with mischief. He opens his mouth and lets the slick he’s been savoring pool on his tongue, then spits it straight into her waiting mouth. She gasps at the heat of it, half-moaning the second he immediately crushes his mouth against hers in a kiss. It’s messy and frantic, spit and cum and her own taste shared between them, their tongues tangling with want that borders on desperation.
He too cannot abstain from the mess between them, moaning as loud into her mouth, gripping her jaw with one hand to keep her there, tasting every bit of the filth they’ve made together before parting slightly.
“Swallow,” he rasps.
She would’ve swallowed on instinct anyway; is second nature by now.
The girl attempts an inhale but chokes, her back arching off the sheets, legs wrapping around his waist. “Come here,” her voice cracks with anticipation, body trembling with desire in every cell. “Get inside, since that’s how you wanna wake me up,” she talks fast, her hand fumbling between them, searching blindly, until she finds him heavy and flushed, aching in her grasp.
It takes nothing more than her guiding him, tugging lightly, for Lando to line himself up with ease. Her body’s ready, dripping from all his teasing, and the moment his tip nudges her opening, it’s like they both break at once. She welcomes him in, her cunt swallowing the thick length, inch by inch.
Lando almost sobs deep in his chest, forehead dropping against hers as he bottoms out, fully seated inside her. His hand instinctively trails down to her neck, fingers tracing its fragile outline, squeezing as he pulls out, only to thrust back in with much force. There’s no patience left in him, and no room for gentleness. The wet sounds of him sliding through her tight heat fill the room, mixing with her breathy moans. Every time his cock hits that spot deep inside, her cry pitches higher, her nails clawing into the arm that keeps her in place, in order to anchor herself.
He shudders, teeth gritted, his thick head dragging perfectly against her sweet spot. He knows it’s only a matter of time before he loses it. Before her walls pull the release out of him and he stuffs her full all over again. The thought alone has his hips driving faster, chasing that inevitable end with every needy thrust.
“Can’t get enough of you,” Lando growls against her lips, his thrusts powerful enough to rattle the frame beneath them. “How am I supposed to go back to work after this?”
Her nails dig further into his bicep, head tipped back against the pillow. “Quit,” she jokes, but Lando still nods in agreement, leaning to steal another kiss.
It turns messy fast, her whimpers slipping out of her throat the moment he thrusts so deep that the bed continues its protests with every snap of his hips.
“Fucking take it, baby,” he pants, voice breaking, “Get your favorite thing, just like that.”
“You’re my favorite thing,” she mewls, her palms cupping each side of his face, pressing her thumb into his lower lip to catch his attention.
The honesty behind her words wreck him. Lando falters only for a heartbeat, his cock throbbing violently inside her before he lets go, the rush hitting him like a tidal wave. White-hot euphoria floods out of him, so hard that it leaks between their joined bodies, dripping down her folds while staring at her face as if seeing her in a new light.
The girl doesn’t break until the very end, her orgasm ripping through her just as he starts to pull out, leaving only his swollen tip stretching her entrance. Pulsing and spent, he holds it there, letting her gush around him, then groans as he pushes back inside a couple more times in order to guide her through it. It’s everything he needed, and more, collapsing against her chest, sweaty and breathless.
She kisses his temple softly, listening to how his breathing evens out, little by little, his hand absentmindedly tracing the slope of her side. As a response, Lando hums with satisfaction, cheek pressed against her skin, eyes sparkling up at her like she’s the only thing in the world.
It would be perfect if she doesn’t immediately push at his shoulder, making him grunt as she twists to reach the nightstand.
“Pardon, where’s your heart? Kicking me off already?” he teases, watching her rummage blindly until her fingers close around a small pack of cinnamon drops.
She smirks, tearing it open and popping one into her mouth before holding the next to his lips. “Not yet,” she replies, voice muffled as she snuggles back against him. “Getting rid of the taste of us before I start craving round… six? That’s crazy,” she laughs. “Should we just accept we’re feral cave people now?”
Lando smirks, sucking on his drop before asking, “Would you rather play sudoku?”
“I can kick your ass at sudoku very well,” the girl shoots him an immediate look.
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a nerd,” he shrugs.
“And what about it?”
“Nothing,” says Lando, his eyebrows raising for a fraction. “I think it’s hot.”
Acting on instinct, his long fingers move to brush along her temple, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The touch is gentle, a small act of innocent love after the avalanche of dirty scenarios that crossed his mind just a few minutes ago; she does that to him. He guides her closer then, until her head finds its place against his bare chest, where his heartbeat thunders steady beneath.
It’s quiet for a while, but then she shighs, pretending to think. In reality, this thought had plagued her mind since the very first day they arrived here. “I don’t wanna leave this place,” she whispers, disturbing the stillness.
Lando can’t answer right away. He’s still too caught up in her and the aftertaste of their connection, content to just hum in return, a soft sound that barely registers in her ears. However, the way he keeps tracing his fingers along her side, tells her everything she needs to know. It’s almost absentminded, the way he touches her, memorizing her in silence, even though his gaze is somewhere far away, not lost, but lingering in that quiet space between satisfaction and exhaustion.
The girl tilts her head to look at him, a faint smile appearing on her face. “Lan? You woke me up like that only to fall asleep on me now?”
His mouth twitches, its corners lifting just a little. “Mhm... sue me.”
She laughs, her hand finding his, fingers brushing along his palm before she laces them together. He squeezes back for a fraction, the pressure of it reassuring.
“We’re still getting dinner later, right?”
With his eyes closed now, Lando lets out a breathy chuckle, “Didn’t you just eat?”
It takes her half a second to register what he means, and when she does, her cheeks flush instantly, blooming a warm, embarrassed red. “Lando,” she warns, mortified but trying not to laugh.
“Don’t blame me?” he says innocently, even though he’s grinning now, “You walked right into that one.”
She drops his hand with a huff only to smack his chest, hard enough to make him flinch and laugh out loud. “Disgusting, disgusting man!”
“Alright, mate. No violence,” he’s twisting away from her swat but too tired to actually escape.
“Stop being an idiot then,” she fires back, though the way her lips fight a smile betrays her.
He finally rolls onto his side to face her, his grin softening into something that looks a lot like gratitude and affection. “Don’t worry, I made reservations,” he says, voice a little rough, exhaution still clinging to the edges of it.
She frowns. “You did?”
Lando nods. “Somewhere nice. So don’t think you’re getting out of wearing that red dress you packed.”
Before she can argue, he’s already tugging her closer to him once again, one arm slipping around her waist. He kisses her gently and unrushed, trying to stretch the moment out as far as it will go. Her fingers curl around his neck, the world outside their little bubble disappearing every time he kisses her like that. And when he finally pulls away, it’s only by a breath, their warmth lingering between them like a string neither of them wants to let go of.
“Thank you,” she says, and Lando knows it goes deeper than him being thoughtful. It’s for all the small things he’s learned without her ever having to say them. For communicating without words.
Thank you for noticing.
Thank you for listening.
Thank you for remembering.
Thank you for making space for me.
“Always.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
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y’all’s I can’t hide it anymore smug oscar does something to me anyways here is a small ish fic hehe enjoy!!
The craving hits at exactly 3:05 a.m.
Not for pickles.
Not for chocolate.
Not for any of the stuff Oscar has already bought for you.
Not for some strange combination Oscar would spend the next week teasing you about.
Ice cream.
Mint chocolate chip.
Specifically the one from the convenience store fifteen minutes away because apparently every other brand in Australia suddenly tastes “wrong.”
You stare at the ceiling.
Then at the peacefully sleeping man beside you.
Oscar is completely unconscious one arm flung over your pillow soft breaths filling the quiet room. There are faint shadows beneath his eyes from weeks of training and media and travelling and racing.
He’d practically collapsed into bed after muttering a “Wake me if you need anything.”
But he was exhausted.
Completely exhausted.
You glance at the clock again.
Three in the morning.
“i can do this” you whisper to yourself.
It’s only a fifteen minute walk.
Well 15 minutes pre pregnancy
Maybe twenty now that you’re six months pregnant.
You quietly climb out of bed pulling on one of Oscar’s hoodies over your pyjamas before scribbling a tiny note.
Gone to get ice cream. Back soon.
You hesitate.
Then crumple it up.
If he woke up he’d come after you.
You’d be back before then.
Hopefully.
The walk there isn’t too terrible.
Slow.
Very slow.
Your back aches every few minutes and your little bump seems determined to press against every organ you own.
“You are so lucky I already love you” you mumble down at your stomach.
A tiny kick answers.
“Oh don’t sass me.”
Another kick.
“Traitor.”
By the time you reach the convenience store you’re slightly out of breath.
The cashier smiles knowingly.
“Pregnancy craving?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“You came in wearing thongs dear.”
You look down.
“Oh.”
You forgot to change your shoes.
Wonderful.
Five minutes later you’re proudly walking home with your precious tub of mint chocolate chip hugged against your chest.
Mission accomplished.
Until-“Oh my God! Sorry!”
Someone barrels into you at full speed while sprinting toward a waiting taxi.
The impact isn’t enough to knock you over thankfully.
But it’s enough to make you stumble backwards with a sharp gasp.
Your side slams lightly against the corner of a fence.
Pain blooms across your left ribs and side of your bump.
The stranger is already apologising profusely.
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
“Y-Yeah.”
You automatically rub your side.
It hurts.
A lot more than you’d like.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay” you lie with a strained smile.
He rushes off toward the taxi still apologising.
You stand there for another moment.
The baby kicks.
You let out a shaky breath.
“We’re okay.”
Another kick.
“We are definitely not telling your daddy? Alright?”
You sigh.
“He’ll worry.”
So you slowly continue walking home.
Each step makes your ribs ache.
Oscar wakes because you’re gone.
At first he only reaches for you.
His hand finds cold sheets.
His eyes blink open.
“Baby?”
Silence.
He sits up.
Bathroom.
Empty.
Kitchen.
Empty.
His heart begins beating faster.
He grabs his phone.
3:58 a.m.
Nearly four.
“Darling?”
Nothing.
His chest tightens.
He checks the apartment again.
Every room.
Every cupboard.
As if somehow his six month pregnant wife has shrunk small enough to fit inside one.
Nothing.
His breathing becomes uneven.
He calls you.
Straight to voicemail.
“Oh, come on don’t do this to me”
He throws on the nearest hoodie grabs his keys.
No.
No no no.
His mind immediately jumps to every awful possibility.
Someone followed you.
You fell.
You fainted.
You were hurt.
He already has emergency services half dialled when the front door unlocks.
Oscar spins around so quickly it almost makes him dizzy.
There you are.
Hair messy.
One of his hoodies practically swallowing you.
Holding a tub of ice cream.
And absentmindedly rubbing your sore side.
Relief crashes into him so violently his knees almost give out.
“Oh thank God.”
You smile sheepishly.
“Hi.”
Then relief turns into panic.
Then panic becomes anger.
“Where the hell have you been?”
You freeze.
“I—”
“It’s four in the morning!”
“Ozzi-”
“I woke up and you were gone!”
“I’m sor—”
“You didn’t leave a note. You didn’t answer your phone. I thought someone had taken you or something bad had happened”
His voice isn’t screaming.
But It’s firm and the tone is something new for it’s louder than you’ve ever heard it.
His breathing is ragged.
His hands are shaking.
“I was about to call the police!”
Your lip trembles.
“I just wanted ice cream”
“it’s the middle of the night you can’t just go out and get it!”
“I know.”
“What if something happened to you?”
“What if someone hurt you?”
“What if—”
“Osc i know-”
Your voice comes out tiny.
Barely audible.
The tears arrive instantly.
“I know”
Oscar stops talking.
Your eyes are overflowing now.
You clutch the ice cream like it’s the only thing keeping you together.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
A tear slips down your cheek.
“You’ve been so tired.”
Another one.
“I thought-I thought I could do it by myself.”
Your shoulders shake.
“But now you’re mad.”
“I’m not—”
“You don’t even want to hug me.”
That sentence absolutely destroys him.
His expression falls immediately.
“Oh, sweetheart”
You sniffle.
“I know I shouldn’t have gone out this late.”
“I just”
Your voice cracks.
“I wanted my ice cream.”
Oscar closes the distance in two long strides.
He wraps both arms around you as gently as he possibly can.
You immediately bury your face into his chest crying harder now that you’re finally where you wanted to be all along.
“I’m sorry” you mumble.
“I’m really sorry.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted ice cream and for you to hold me.”
His eyes close.
“Oh my love.”
He kisses your forehead.
“I’m holding you.”
You cling to the front of his hoodie.
“I was so scared” he whispers.
“I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m here.”
He hugs you tighter before suddenly pulling back after you wince softly.
His eyes narrow.
“Why are you holding your side?”
You instinctively move your hand away.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally are.”
His stomach drops.
“What happened?”
“It’s nothing.”
“What happened?”
“I just”
You hesitate.
“Someone bumped into me.”
Oscar goes completely still.
“Someone what?”
“They were running for a taxi.”
“Did you fall?”
“No.”
“Did they push you?”
“No.”
“They just ran into me.”
He notices the faint dark bruise beginning to form beneath the hem of his hoodie.
His face loses every bit of colour.
“Sweetheart”
“It’s okay.”
“No.”
He crouches in front of you immediately.
“It’s sore.”
“Where?”
“My ribs.”
“Show me.”
You lift the hoodie just enough for him to see the forming bruise along your side.
Oscar looks like he’s about to cry.
His fingers hover over the bruise without touching it.
“They hit you here?”
“It was mostly the fence.”
“You hit a fence?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Oh for fucks sake”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re bruised.”
“I’m okay Ozzie I swear”
“The baby?”
“They’ve been kicking.”
Oscar lets out the breath he’d apparently been holding.
“Okay.”
His voice is shaky.
“Okay.”
Within minutes you’re lying on the sofa while Oscar carefully rubs soothing balm over the sore area with impossibly gentle hands.
His touch is featherlight.
Like you’re made of glass.
“Does this hurt?”
“A little.”
“And this?”
“No.”
“I’m taking you to get checked tomorrow.”
“Oscar—”
“I’m not arguing.”
He continues applying the balm in silence.
His jaw is tight.
You reach down and gently lace your fingers through his free hand.
He looks up.
“I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head.
“No.”
“I am.”
“No.”
“I scared you.”
“You terrified me.”
You offer him the smallest smile.
“I love you.”
The words are so soft they’re almost carried away by the silence.
His entire expression melts.
“I love you most.”
He leans down and kisses your forehead.
Then your nose.
Then your cheeks.
“As much as I love you”
He cups your face.
“You are never doing that again.”
You smile guiltily.
“Okay but it did feel like a was a teenager again sneaking out to see you”
“Focus baby, listen to what i am saying”
“I don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”
“I don’t care if I’ve just finished a race.”
“I don’t care if I’ve slept for five minutes.”
You giggle quietly.
He pokes your forehead.
“If you want ice cream”
“Wake me”
“If you want fries”
“Wake me.”
“If you want watermelon in December”
“Wake me.”
“If you decide the baby needs pancakes at four in the morning”
You grin.
“I wake you.”
“You wake me.”
“And?”
“And we’ll go together.”
He shakes his head.
“No.”
You blink.
“No?”
“I’ll go.”
“Oscar—”
“You stay in bed.”
“But—”
“I’ll bring back the entire freezer if I have to.”
You laugh through the last of your tears.
“The entire freezer?”
“The entire freezer.”
“That’s excessive.”
“I’m an overprotective husband.”
“You really are.”
“I’m also an overprotective father.”
Right on cue your baby gives a tiny kick beneath his hand.
Oscar smiles so softly it almost hurts to look at.
“See?”
He presses a kiss to your bump.
“You’re both staying exactly where I can find you.”
You thread your fingers through his hair.
“I promise.”
He looks back up at you.
“No more sneaking out.”
“I promise.”
“No matter how tired I am.”
“I promise.”
“No matter what you’re craving.”
“I promise.”
He studies your face for another second before pulling you carefully into his lap wrapping a blanket around both of you.
The ice cream had melted into soup by then.
Neither of you cared.
Because somehow curled safely against Oscar’s chest with one hand over yours and the other resting protectively over your bump it still turned out to be exactly what you’d been craving all along.
summary: You're at a family dinner in Melbourne, where Uncle Robert has been talking about surfing, and you just want to run away and smoke. Oscar ignores your pleas in the chat, so you send him a naked photo from the shower. His reaction? Red ears, beer in his lungs, and an urgent escape from the table. But you don't stop there, because provoking Oscar is your favorite thing to do. You start spamming him with dirty messages and Oscar finally breaks down. In the shower, he washes you very slowly, and then doesn't wash you at all, but fucks you against the glass, covering your mouth because you don't know how to be quiet.
pairing: Oscar Piastri x girfriend!reader
word count: 6 400+ k
raiting: 18+ | minors dni!
genre: established relationship, dom!oscar, pwp, nsfw, fluff, family dinner, teasing, smut, semi-public risk, blowjob in shower, shower sex, unprotected sex, oscar finally snaps (affectionate), smoking, alcohol, sweating, aftercare, love
warnings: This fanfic contains explicit sexual scenes, profanity, descriptions of IQOS/nicotine use, and provocative behavior by characters. If you are uncomfortable with any of the above, it is best to skip this story. Please note that English is not my native language, so you might encounter some grammatical errors or slightly awkward sentence structures; I appreciate your understanding 🙏🏻
author note: Hey, my dear ones 💘 Valentine's Day is still a few weeks away, but I think I should post this sooner. Because I won't have the chance to post it then. So this story is my Valentine's Day gift to you 💕 I couldn't possibly leave you without a gift on such a day, could I?
But this story isn't romantic at all, and it doesn't mention that it's Valentine's Day, so I guess you can just imagine it as the reason for a family dinner. ALSO, it's important to note that Y/N IQOS smokes 🫣 I support a healthy lifestyle and all of that, but I needed to show that she has a slightly different character than Oscar, like his opposite, so let's imagine that he really tolerates his girlfriend smoking. (In her defense, she doesn't smoke two packs a day, but rather, even though she smokes, she doesn't do it very actively or a lot; smoking is more of a way for her to relieve stress).
Also, MC is not a vegetarian 😶 Sorry to those who don't eat meat, but if you're reading this, feel free to skip over it.
And finally, for all those who love the dominant Oscar, who loses control and becomes a little, well, a little rude, this story is for you 😏🥰
Happy Valentine's Day 💖 I wish you all love and to be loved 💗 (you already have my love ❣️)
From your calm, not a trace remained. You nervously shifted your gaze to the phone lying on the table not far from your plate. Some notification popped up that you completely ignored, but you did notice the time. It was almost nine in the evening, and you didn’t know what you wanted more — to bang your head against the wall or to feel the taste of nicotine on your tongue.
Your gaze slowly crawled to your plate, where a half-eaten piece of steak grilled by Mr. Piastri — Oscar’s dad — lay along with the remains of salad. The juice from the salad had mixed with the steak juice, and this caused an unpleasant sensation that rose to your throat.
Appetite had disappeared several hours earlier, when Oscar’s uncle Robert, Mrs. Piastri’s younger brother, sat down next to you and didn’t shut up even while chewing.
You lifted your eyes to Oscar. He stood next to his father and cousin Oliver, animatedly telling something and laughing, gesturing with his free hand while the other clutched a can of beer. Irritation washed over you in a new wave. Oscar felt free, relaxed. This was his home, his people. For you, these evenings were pure torture.
You loved his family, honestly. They were wonderful, hospitable, and sincere Australians, but the necessity of playing the role of “the perfect girlfriend” sucked all the life out of you.
Oscar was calm; you would even say melancholic. Your complete opposite. You — chaos, he — order. You — fire, he — cool water. Perhaps that’s why you were together. You liked shaking up his world, watching how behind that mask of indifference sparks flared when you crossed the line.
“…and then the wave covered me completely, can you imagine?” Uncle Robert, who sat to your left, continued his epic tale about surfing in Bali that you had already been listening to for twenty minutes. You had no idea why he decided you loved this damn surfing enough for him to tell you about it half the evening, and it was already openly irritating you.
“Incredible,” you squeezed out with a strained smile and reached with your fingers for the phone.
You scanned the room looking for Nicole, but she wasn’t there. You couldn’t count on Mrs. Piastri’s help this time, because she had disappeared somewhere and you hadn’t seen her in the living room at the table for exactly as long as Robert had been talking about surfing in Bali.
You desperately needed nicotine, fresh air, and Oscar who had to save you from the uncle — otherwise you would boil over. Your IQOS lay in your purse, and the thought of stepping out into the cold air and taking a drag became an obsessive idea. It would help relieve some of the stress that had accumulated in you over the whole day spent with Oscar’s family.
He didn’t like it when you smoked. Oscar never forbade it outright, just wrinkled his nose and said something about health, but right now you didn’t care.
You lowered the phone under the table while Uncle Robert took a swig of beer along with another piece of meat.
08:41 p.m. | You: “Save me. I want to smoke. Get me out of here or I’ll start screaming.”
You lifted your eyes. Oscar felt the vibration, pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen. His face didn’t change a bit. He looked up at you, gave a barely noticeable shake of his head. Typed something quickly and turned back to the conversation with his father.
Your phone flashed.
08:42 p.m. | Osc 🧁: “Wait a little bit. We’ll go to my room to sleep soon. Then you can step out on the balcony.”
You almost groaned out loud. “Wait a little bit”? Seriously?
08:42 p.m. | You: “Robert has been talking about surfboards for eternity. My ears are curling into tubes. I need it now.”
Oscar looked at the phone again. A shadow of a light, barely noticeable smile touched his lips, but he didn’t reply. Just put the phone back in his pocket. Oh, really? He thinks this is a joke and you’ll really agree to “wait”?
Your boyfriend should have known this wasn’t like you. You adored provoking him, and the way he always reacted to it was your separate kind of pleasure. But now he tried to ignore you — and that was his mistake.
A thought appeared in your head that brought a light thrill. In your gallery there was an “argument” that would work flawlessly. A photo taken morning a few days ago in Monaco. You had been spinning in front of the mirror, choosing lingerie, and decided you looked better without it.
Your finger hovered over the “Send” button. Oh, this was risky. They were standing so close to each other. But adrenaline spread through your blood.
08:43 p.m. | You: [Image]
You raised your eyes with malicious satisfaction and watched him. You put the phone face down and took the glass of wine, preparing for the show.
Oscar reached for his phone again. This time his movements were more relaxed; he clearly expected another grumble. He brought the phone to his eyes, took a sip of beer, and unlocked the screen.
You saw his eyes widen to the size of saucers. He choked on the beer, coughed, and nearly dropped the can. His hand with the phone jerked to his chest so fast he almost dropped it.
“Oscar? You okay?” Oliver’s voice sounded concerned. The cousin even leaned in, trying to peek at what had shocked his brother so much.
“Yeah! All good! Just… choked on beer,” he croaked, frantically shoving the phone into his pocket, away from prying eyes. You saw his neck and cheeks start to flush a deep red. He looked like he’d been electrocuted. Oscar threw you a quick, panicked glance across the room. In his eyes swirled a mix of shock, panic, and dark, hot desire.
You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing out loud. It was priceless.
You waited a minute and sent another message. You saw him flinch when he felt the vibration. He didn’t want to take out the phone. He was afraid.
Finally, making sure no one was looking, he very carefully, covering the screen with his palm, glanced at the message.
08:44 p.m. | You: “Did you like it? 😉”
His fingers flew across the keyboard. He looked angry and aroused at the same time.
08:44 p.m. | Osc 🧁: “Have you lost your mind?! Oliver almost saw you naked! Why are you doing this right now?!”
You took a sip of wine and, looking straight into his eyes across the room, typed your reply.
08:45 p.m. | You: “If you don’t come right now, don’t take me away from the table and don’t let me go smoke, this photo will be the only naked view of me for to you while the next week. Time’s ticking. 😘”
Oscar read it. He lifted his gaze to you. His eyes darkened, his jaw tensed. He exhaled deeply through his nose, trying to calm his heartbeat. He knew you weren’t joking.
He said something short to his father, patted his cousin on the shoulder, and walked confidently toward table.
Oscar came up and stood behind your chair.
“Hey uncle, looks like you’re not bored here,” he said, and you heard forced cheerfulness in his voice. Oscar placed his hand on your shoulder; his fingers gripped the fabric of your top firmly.
“Ooooh, Oscar,” his uncle turned, still chewing steak, “your girlfriend is a wonderful conversationalist. I was so happy when I heard she also loves surfing.”
You gave a tight smile, while in your head there were only swear words and thoughts about where he could have possibly heard that, or from whom.
“Yeah, she loves surfing, but she hasn’t actually tried it yet. I’m planning to teach her next time we come,” Oscar said. Your heart skipped. You turned your head toward your boyfriend, whom you were ready to strangle for lying. You don’t like surfing and have never been interested in it because you don’t know how to swim. And he know it.
Your look was loaded and promised Oscar that as soon as you were alone, he would hear a few “sweet” words from you. But he only smiled with the corner of his mouth — this was his revenge for you catching him off guard with the nude photo.
“Not even once?! Girl, you’ve missed half your life. Why wait till next time? Let’s go to the beach tomorrow and I’ll give you a few good beginner lessons,” Oscar’s Uncle rattled off, and you felt horror wash over you. No. The horror of the prospect of spending an entire day in the water with Uncle Robert, trying not to drown, momentarily even overshadowed the desire to smoke. You looked at Oscar again, and your eyes literally screamed: “Don’t you dare agree!”
Oscar, who was clearly enjoying your mild panic, finally took pity. His fingers on your shoulder moved slightly, soothing.
“Oh, that’s a great offer, Uncle Robert,” Oscar began, and you were ready to claw his hand. But he masterfully paused. “However, unfortunately, tomorrow is our last day in Melbourne before flying to Britain. We have a few important things to wrap up before departure, so we won’t be able to join.”
You almost exhaled in relief loud enough for the whole house to hear. Uncle Robert looked genuinely disappointed, muttered something about “young people always rushing somewhere,” but Oscar didn’t give him a chance to continue, finally releasing your shoulder to offer you his hand. “And now, excuse us, I’m taking my girlfriend. I have a few words for her.”
He offered his hand, helping you get up from the table. As soon as you were out of Uncle Robert’s line of sight, Oscar led you to the glass doors that opened onto the backyard. The cool night air hit your face, instantly bringing relief.
You walked deeper into the garden, to where the light from the living room windows barely dispersed the darkness. Oscar stopped near a tall callistemon bush and finally let go of your hand. You immediately dug into your purse, pulling out your IQOS. Your hands trembled slightly — either from the evening chill or from the adrenaline still rushing through your veins.
The click of the device, a light vibration in your hands. You waited.
Oscar stood opposite, hands in his pockets. His figure in the darkness seemed even more massive and shielded you from the windows where someone might accidentally look. He was silent, watching as you impatiently waited for the stick to heat up.
“Gonna teach me to surf?” you smiled slyly, feeling the final vibration that signaled you could smoke. The stick touched your lips and you took a drag. “You know I swim like an axe! Decided to get rid of me that way?”
Oscar huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. In the twilight his eyes looked almost black. He was no longer wearing that polite “golden boy” smile.
“That was a fair price for the heart attack you gave me,” he said in a velvety voice. “Do you even realize what would’ve happened if Oliver had seen that photo?”
You took another long drag, feeling the nicotine finally relax your tense muscles. You blew a cloud of smoke right into his face, looking at him defiantly.
“But he didn’t see. You did, though. Judging by how you choked on your beer, you liked it very much.”
Oscar took a step closer, reducing the distance almost to nothing. Now you could feel the barely perceptible wave of warmth from his body contrasting with the evening coolness.
“I liked it,” he admitted, and those familiar notes appeared in his voice that sent shivers down your spine. “But let’s have you send me photos like that only when it’s really necessary — or better yet, don’t send them at all. I want to see you in real life.”
Oscar placed his hands on your waist, and you immediately felt warmer and calmer. You weren’t sure what finally let you relax — Oscar or the nicotine — but being in his arms after the whole day was truly nice.
“I had to get you to take me outside somehow. By the way, your reaction was priceless. The way you almost dropped that beer was the best thing that happened all evening.”
Oscar smiled, pulling you closer so your chest pressed against his shirt. His hands stroked your lower back, slowly sliding down to your buttocks. You forgot about the stick burning in your hand because you weren’t smoking it anymore. Your attention was completely absorbed by the first close moment with Oscar all day.
“You’re a walking disaster,” he whispered, and in his voice there was as much irritation as admiration. You smiled, catching Oscar’s lips on your. His tongue insistently and thoroughly touched your. He could definitely taste blueberry and nicotine on your tongue, and you were surprised he didn’t stop the kiss because of it. Oscar almost never kissed you after you smoked, but today he did — and it made you think he had missed you. Maybe he was tired too of not being able to touch you whenever and however he wanted.
You felt the IQOS vibrate in your hand and only then realized the stick was ruined after just two drags. Still, Oscar’s insistent and sweet kiss made you less upset. After all, it was thanks to him that you had finally relaxed.
Oscar broke the kiss, breathing deeply. His lips glistened from your saliva. You smiled seductively, feeling the arousal that had involuntarily appeared from the long kiss.
“You weren’t serious when you said that photo would be the only naked view of you if I didn’t take you away from the uncle, right?” Oscar suddenly asked seriously. The smile that had adorned your lips turned from seductive to mocking.
“What do you think?” you answered with a question, raising an eyebrow. Oscar froze for a moment, considering the options.
“I think you wouldn’t do that to me,” he said confidently. You laughed out loud. He thinks he knows you, but you could do something that would surprise him every time. Because testing Oscar Piastri’s patience was the most pleasant thing in the world. If there were a prize or award for it, you’d win it every year. No, actually every month.
You slipped out of his embrace, cleaned the burnt stick from the IQOS, and put it back in your purse.
“We’ll never know for sure, darling. Luckily you made the right choice,” you said.
When you returned to the living room, you felt like a winner. For the rest of the evening you tried not to leave Oscar’s side. Your hand intertwined with his fingers — and that was a guarantee that no one would bother you with surfing conversations anymore.
Oscar and you spent the rest of the evening with Oliver. They started reminiscing about school years, the trouble they got into, and the punishments they received from their parents. Some stories were genuinely funny and wild, and you were shocked that at 14 Oscar had been almost a little hooligan.
You looked at him from the side when the conversation turned calmer. He became his usual calm self, politely nodding at his brother’s remarks, listening attentively — but in your head the scene of his wide eyes from your nude photo suddenly resurfaced. That expression of shock and hidden desire became your favorite memory of the day.
You barely held back a smile from the memory, and the desire to do something similar to see that same reaction became overwhelming.
The party wound down. Oscar’s parents saw the guests out, while you and Edie finished clearing the table. Oscar and Oliver continued sitting on the couch, and as you passed by you threw your boyfriend a quick glance. He was sipping beer. Provoking him through messages again seemed like a good idea. You planned to send a few dirty texts in the hope that when you got to the bedroom he would want to “punish” you. You adored that version of Oscar and wanted to see it tonight. For a moment you were alone near the dishwasher. Your hands reached for the phone on their own.
10:15 p.m. | You: “I really like the kitchen countertop at your parents’ place. Wonder how it would feel against my skin when you fuck me on it?”
You sent the message and stifled a laugh. Your eyes immediately went to Oscar, whom you could see in the living room from the angle you stood at in the kitchen. Oscar took out his phone, looked at the screen and froze for a moment. He slowly lifted his gaze, found you with his eyes and raised an eyebrow as if silently asking: “Not another nude photo, is it?”. His face remained stone, but you noticed the muscles in his jaw tense.
You wrote another message while he was reading the first.
10:16 p.m. | You: “Seems we haven’t had sex in a kitchen yet. Would you like to try?”
10:17 p.m. | You: “Imagining how deep you’ll feel when I'll be sitting on the table”
You couldn’t hold back a wide smile watching Oscar read your texts while his ears turned red. He froze over the phone screen, not knowing what to reply.
10:18 p.m. | You: “Want your hands on my thighs.”
10:18 p.m. | You: “Want you inside, want your tongue on me… or maybe tonight I should make you feel good 👅”
10:19 p.m. | Osc 🧁: “Stop tormenting me”
His short, seemingly threatening reply should have made you stop the provocation, but instead it only made you laugh again, covering your mouth with your palm. You continued loading plates into the dishwasher while Edie brought the last of the food to the kitchen. When she left, you wrote one more text.
10:24 p.m. | You: “I’m serious love, want it? I’ll do it the way you like, take you as deep as I can…”
Oscar didn’t open the message and you felt adrenaline rush through your veins again. Ignoring again? How can someone ignore texts like that from you? You wrote several more very dirty messages detailing exactly how you were going to give him a blowjob tonight, while Oscar with titanic effort tried not to pay attention to the vibration in his shorts pocket.
You tossed the phone into your jeans pocket, closed the dishwasher and pressed start. The hum of the machine somewhat drowned out the kitchen silence. You turned to continue cleaning the table with Edie and glanced at Oscar again as you passed him.
He looked like he was about to either explode or just combust on the spot. You noticed he had crossed his legs and casually placed a hand over his crotch, hiding the obvious erection from Oliver’s view. When your eyes met, you winked at him, enjoying his torment.
Oliver was enthusiastically telling something, but Oscar only gave short nods, clearly not hearing a word. His ears burned bright red — your favorite indicator that you had hit the target perfectly.
Oscar’s parents finally saw off the last guests and came back to you. His father sat next to him, while Nicole approached you and Edie at the now clean and cleared table.
“Oh, my darlings, you’ve already finished? Thank you so much!” Nicole said softly, placing a hand on your forearm. “Come, I’ll walk you to Oscar’s room. You need to rest; tomorrow’s a big day and a long flight.”
You obediently followed her, feeling Oscar’s heavy, almost tangible gaze on your back. You knew he was thinking about every word you had sent.
Nicole led you to the bedroom on the second floor. Oscar’s room was closest to the bathroom. On this floor there was also his younger sister’s room and a guest room where Oliver was supposed to sleep.
She showing you Oscar’s room with its not-very-large bed that luckily could fit both of you.
“Here are the towels,” she pointed to the stack of fluffy white fabric on the bed. You thanked her; Oscar’s mom engaged you in conversation about relatives and her brother, who, as she said, had taken a liking to you. You smiled sincerely but lied about how much you had enjoyed the evening. You were tired and wanted to finally be alone.
Nicole talked a bit more about tomorrow’s plans, how she would miss you, and finally left, wishing you good night. As soon as the door closed, you collapsed onto the bed and pulled out your phone again.
10:45 p.m. | You: “I’m already in your room. When are you coming?”
10:47 p.m. | Osc 🧁: “Soon”
A short, non-specific reply. The thought crossed your mind that he was mad at you — and that made it even more fun. You re-read the messages he had all read and smiled again. What you had written had aroused you too. You closed the chat and scrolled through Instagram. That took another twenty minutes, but Oscar still didn’t come. So you decided not to wait any longer.
Taking a towel and your cosmetic bag, you went out into the hallway. The house was quiet, only muffled male voices and laughter coming from downstairs. You entered the bathroom and clicked the lock. The bathroom was spacious, with a large shower cabin and the scent of sea breeze from the air freshener.
You stripped and stepped into the shower cabin. Hot water pleasantly burned your skin, washing away the fatigue of this long day. You closed your eyes, letting the stream hit your face, and for a moment imagined you were already in Europe, alone, with no need to hide from anyone.
Suddenly there was a quiet click of the lock, then the sound of the cabin door opening. You spun around, gasping in fright, but immediately relaxed.
Oscar stood in front of you. He probably knew how to open the bathroom door from the outside. But that didn't matter much now because he was naked. Completely naked. He looked incredible. His body was tense, abs sharply defined, and his gaze… Oh, that gaze. You had earned it with all those messages you sent him. Nothing remained of the calm boy he usually was. He was hungry, and completely focused on you. His arousal was obvious, and he didn’t even try to hide it.
Oscar stepped inside, closing the glass panel behind him. Water now ran down his shoulders, but he didn’t take his eyes off you.
You smiled seductively despite your heart pounding somewhere in your throat. You slowly reached for the shelf, took the bottle of shower gel, and handed it to Oscar, looking straight into his eyes.
“You’re right on time,” you said and your voice blending with the sound of water. “Will you wash me?”
Oscar gripped the bottle tightly; his fingers brushed yours. You saw how heavily he was breathing, trying to hold himself back in this small enclosed space. His family could be just behind the wall, and you hoped he had locked the door so no one would walk in this time.
“With enormous pleasure,” he answered when you turned your back to him and he leaned to your ear. His lips barely touched your ear, and a wave of warmth and arousal ran through your whole body.
You turned off the tap and waited. You heard the sound of Oscar opening the shower gel. He squeezed some onto his palms. A step — and you felt his body press against yours. His hard cock pressed into your buttocks, making the wetness between your legs increase.
His palms first reached your neck; with light, slow movements he soaped your skin with the gentle creamy-scented gel. You closed your eyes, enjoying your closeness, and deliberately pressed yourself closer to his body, leaving no distance between you.
Oscar continued spreading foam over your skin, moving toward your breasts. Your nipples were already hard from arousal. Oscar saw it, but he didn’t touch your breasts — as if on purpose — and lowered his hands to your stomach.
You lightly pushed back with your hips. A teasing movement meant to spur Oscar into more decisive action, but he ignored your hints. His hands slid to your thighs, bypassing your center, and you almost choked from the fact that he wasn’t touching you where he should have first.
You turned your head as far as possible and met his light smile.
Teasing.
You understood it immediately. Well. If mind-blowing sex followed, you were ready to endure. You looked at his lips just a few centimeters away and asked:
“So you’re really just going to wash me?”
“Seems that this is exactly what you asked for,” he replied, and you couldn’t force yourself to look away from his plump lips. You could smell beer on him and wondered how many cans he had drunk.
“Yes,” you breathed out and kissed him, pushing your tongue into his mouth. There was beer on his tongue too, and it didn’t bother you at all. Your kiss echoed off the fogged cabin walls with wet sounds and your quiet moans.
Oscar’s hips gave a barely noticeable thrust forward, pressing his cock a little lower than your buttocks, right where everything burned with want. His hands slid from your thighs up your figure and finally reached your breasts. His large palms covered them completely, and then began to squeeze with massaging, possessive movements. You moaned a little louder without breaking the passionate, greedy kiss.
Oscar tore his lips from yours only for a moment so you could breathe, but immediately returned, now kissing your neck, collarbones, leaving marks on the skin he had just soaped. His palms still kneaded your breasts; his thumbs slowly, teasingly circled your nipples but didn’t touch them — deliberately, to make you arch harder.
“You were a very bad girl today,” he whispered low, voice hoarse from arousal and restraint. “How many messages did you send me? Ten? Fifteen? I could’ve been caught…”
“You mean your hard-on you were hiding from Oliver with your hand?” you smiled through a moan. Oscar finally pinched your nipples — not gently, but exactly the way you liked, with a light pain that instantly turned into a wave of heat below your stomach. Clearly he didn’t like that you had noticed and were now mocking him for it, even though you were the cause of that problem.
“Baby… you’d better be more careful with that mouth of yours, or I’ll have to shut it,” Oscar warned, but it worked exactly as it always did when he became dominant during sex. It aroused you to the edge, to the loss of time and reality. With one hand he slid down your stomach, slowly, as if giving you time for the right answer, but you decided to remain silent. His fingers slipped between your legs, parted your folds, and found you already wet, swollen, and ready.
“Fuck… you’re so wet. You want me that bad?” he muttered, almost surprised, though his voice was filled with dark satisfaction.
“So bad…” you breathed, not even trying to hide it. Your body spoke for you better than any words.
You wanted to say how much you needed him inside you, and just then, as if reading your mind, Oscar pushed two fingers into your entrance — slowly, deeply, curling them to hit that exact spot. You braced your palms against the cabin wall to keep from falling and moaned his name.
“Quieter,” he hissed, but he was already losing control of his own breathing. “No one should hear us…”
You bit your lip, trying to suppress the moans that were unbearable and tore at your throat. It felt fucking incredible. Oscar knew exactly how to give you pleasure with just his fingers.
The deeper he drove his fingers and kissed your neck, the harder it was to hold back. You wanted to moan at the top of your lungs. The orgasm began building below and you couldn’t control yourself. The moans grew louder and Oscar swore quietly — short, rough Australian-style — and sharply pulled his fingers out. You moaned in disappointment at the loss, but he was already turning you to face him. His gaze was almost black. He turned the water back on so the sounds of your pleasure would be masked by the noise of falling drops. Water hit him, running down his temples, jaw, chest. And this wet Oscar was insanely hot.
He scooped you up under the thighs — easily, as if you weighed nothing — and pressed your back to the cold glass. You wrapped your legs around him, feeling the head of his cock touch your entrance.
“You wanted me to fuck you on the kitchen table?” his voice was strained but composed despite the arousal. “This isn’t bad either, is it?”
You smiled in silent agreement with his words, and in that same moment he pushed into you. His cock slid inside surprisingly easily from how wet you were, but it was still as tight as always. So you couldn’t take him without pain and a cry.
Oscar froze, feeling relief and pleasure from how your walls enveloped his aching, long-restrained cock.
When you both adjusted to the feeling of unity, he finally began to move. Slowly, and with each new thrust he increased the pace. Water poured over you from above, muffling the sounds of your bodies slapping together, but your moans were a problem for Oscar today. He couldn’t make you be quiet.
Holding you under the shower stream, he fumbled for the switch and turned off the water. Now he could more or less see you, though drops still ran into his eyes. He kissed you to muffle your indecent sounds, thinking Oliver in the next room might hear. He was already mentally prepared to endure his stupid jokes in the morning.
Oscar broke the kiss, squeezing your buttocks to hold you. You rolled your eyes and moaned again at his next thrust of hips. He buried himself fully inside you. You clung to him tighter, pushing back to meet him, feeling the orgasm approaching, the tight knot in your lower belly unraveling faster and faster.
He suddenly stopped — deep inside, motionless — and you almost screamed in frustration.
“Can you be quiet?” he asked, not without irritation.
You exhaled straight into his lips, still trembling from how tightly he filled you, and smiled defiantly.
“Afraid Oliver will hear how good you are?” you asked. Oscar’s eyes roamed your face, searching for something unknown.
“Not him or my sister doesn’t need to know the sound of your moans. So hold yourself back,” he requested. It sounded commanding, and this time you didn’t like it. He was fucking you mercilessly, you had been aroused for hours, and now you had to restrain yourself? You couldn’t. You didn’t want to be heard either, but how do you keep quiet when he’s doing this to you?
“If you want me quiet, make me…” you replied boldly, then deliberately squeezed around him and added almost syllable by syllable: “With something… hard… and long…”
Oscar held his breath. You saw him close his eyes, restraining himself from your provocative movement. Then he exhaled through his teeth — short, sharp, as if struck. His hand instantly moved from your buttock to the back of your head; fingers dug into your wet hair, forcing you to tilt your head back.
“You just want to push me over the edge today, don’t you?” Oscar guessed. Yes. That was the plan. Because when he crosses the line, he becomes your favorite sight.
He slowly pulled out almost completely, then slammed back in with one hard thrust. You only managed a short cry before he pressed his palm over your mouth — not gently, but exactly the way you like when the game shifts to another weight class.
“Open that pretty mouth, baby, I’ll make you shut up like you asked,” he ordered quietly, but the tone left no room for argument.
You obediently parted your lips without looking away from him. His thumb first slid along your lower lip, then entered your mouth. You wrapped your tongue around it, slowly ran it over the pad, and demonstratively sucked. Oscar swore again:
“Fuck… you’re impossible.”
He pulled his thumb out, replacing it with two fingers, spreading your lips wider. You moaned right into his palm, but the sound came out muffled, wet, obscene. Oscar began moving inside you again — this time slowly and measuredly, as if punishing you with every thrust.
You kept his fingers in your mouth, moaning around them. Between your thighs everything burned, and from his slow thrusts your head spun. The orgasm was approaching and you wanted it to happen. You dug your fingers harder into his shoulders, squeezing to the point of pain. Your eyes watered from tension, from the desire to scream, from how much you loved when he took complete control like this.
Oscar smiled a dark smile that almost no one except you ever saw.
“I love it when you become good girl,” he murmured.
Oscar pressed you harder against the glass. He stopped and with his free hand found your swollen clit, rubbing it in almost weightless circles — and you came. The orgasm hit you painfully-sweet, forcing your whole body to clench around him. Oscar groaned, feeling how you squeezed, how you pulsed around him. You bit down on his fingers, making Oscar want to come in your mouth.
He removed his hand from your mouth to replace his fingers with his cock. He put you on the wet floor, then made you to your knees with his hand. With the two fingers that had just been in your mouth he opened it, and with one movement — not letting you catch your breath or recover from the orgasm — he pushed deep into your throat. Your head pressed against the glass, his hips tight against your face, his hand gripping your hair again.
He held you like that for several long seconds, letting you adjust, then began to move, as if wanting to feel every millimeter of your tongue that had truly driven him crazy today.
“Just like that… exactly like you asked… shuts your pretty mouth” his voice was hoarse, almost broken with pleasure. “This is what you wanted, right? For me to stop holding back and just take you the way I want…”
You couldn’t answer — only squeezed his thighs with your fingers, showing yes, this was exactly what you wanted. Tears rolled down your cheeks from the strain, from the depth of his thrusts, from how much you loved feeling his control.
Oscar leaned in, kissed your temple — tenderly, lovingly — then sharply sped up.
“Hold on… I’m gonna come down your throat now,”
He pushed in as deep as possible again and froze, feeling you swallow around him.
“Ready to take it all?”
You only nodded slightly in response. Oscar guided you, hand on the back of your head in your hair, so you felt who controlled the rhythm. His hips jerked one last time, and you felt warm, thick cum deep in your throat. He exhaled low, almost soundlessly.
You swallowed everything he gave, never looking away from him. Tears still rolled down your cheeks, mixing with the water dripping from his hair, but there wasn’t a drop of shame or weakness in your gaze — only dark, satisfied triumph. You knew you had pushed him to the edge. And he knew it too.
He slowly pulled out of your mouth, still holding you by the back of the head. His thumb ran across your lower lip, wiping away the thin silvery thread connecting you. His breathing was heavy and uneven. Oscar looked like he had just run a marathon — wet, disheveled, pupils blown, red patches on his neck and chest.
“I don’t like when you tease me, but this sex was insane,” he admitted. You only smiled tiredly, still pressed back to the cold glass. Your voice trembled; your throat pleasantly sore.
“Worth it, right darling?” you asked. He laughed quietly, shortly, shaking his head, then helped you stand. He kissed you — no longer aggressive, but gently and carefully, as if tasting what he had just done to you. The taste of both of you mixed on your tongues. He didn’t pull away from the taste of himself in your mouth — on the contrary, he seemed liked it a lot.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“Let’s take a shower and go to sleep,” Oscar suggested, and you agreed, feeling exhaustion in every cell of your body.
His hands slid down — now soothingly — stroking your sides, thighs, lower back. He turned the water back on — warmer this time, almost hot — and began soaping you without any teasing games. Just washing. Carefully. This was the Oscar you saw most of the time, the one everyone knew.
You stood, offering him your neck, shoulders, chest, letting the water wash away sweat, gel, everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. His fingers occasionally lingered on your skin longer than needed for washing, but there were no hints in them. Most likely he was just tired.
When the last of the foam was rinsed away, he turned off the shower and pulled you out of the cabin. Oscar wrapped you in the large white towel Nicole had so thoughtfully left, then took another and dried his hair.
After finishing in the bathroom, you both quietly, on tiptoe, went to his room. The door closed behind you with a barely audible click.
The bed was narrow, but neither of you cared. Oscar pulled you to him, your back to his chest, wrapped one arm around your waist, and with the other tucked a strand of wet hair behind your ear. He exhaled noisily, nuzzling the skin behind your ear.
You lay in silence for several minutes, trying to fall asleep. His fingers lightly stroked your skin and it really lulled you.
“Osk…” you called him tiredly. He stirred, tightening his arms around you.
“Mmm?” he mumbled.
“The kitchen table in our apartment definitely needs to be tested.”
