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errruvande · 7 months ago

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WHAT WE DO IN THE TOILET

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Fem!Reader

Summery: what if you stumbled upon your fucking ex boyfriend in a squid game toilet?

Triggers: SMUT, oral (both receiving), fingering, a bit of a dirty talk

A/N: first squid game smut, second smut fic in almost 10 years from me 🫡 English is not my native, so please, bear with it if you find a mistake, cause I'd die from embarrassment

A/N #2: dialogue formatted like this said by Thanos in English

Word count: 4k

Once you gave yourself a word that you will never meet him again in your life. You'd been trying to support him through his, not to say the list, pretty feeble rapping career, keeping him hyped up when his new tracks didn't hit the numbers he hoped for yet again. It was before he started investing his money into the crypt. You were the first one to say that this cryptocurrency shit was definitely a scum, but Su-Bong couldn't care less to listen, he had too much fun getting the first money back, doubled in number.

"This is all scum, Su!.." you once rattled at him, seeing Su-Bong changing yet another thousands of won to that crypto shit.

"We're gonna be fucking rich can't you see, señorita???" He grabbed the multicolored cash in his hands, throwing the money up in the air like a confetti. "I'm gonna win this life, baby!"

You only rolled your eyes at him, grabbing one 5000 won bill and making your way out of the room. "I'll look at your dumb ass when you invest all of your stupid money in this and they'll fuck you up, señor."

Now, you wandered how low did he fall to appear in this fucking shit hole. How many layers of buttom did his smoked, stoned ass broke to land on that pile of cow shit. How much debts did he have now? Definitely more than you, but how much more? Though after hearing some players' debts, you thought of your own to be a mild inconvenience.

You saw his head popping out from the crowd, the tallest guy in the group, as he always has been, with his head glowing purple in the dull green room. Thanos. You only prayed for him to not notice you, cause above all else, you would not stress his pathetically comical attempts into being not only a rapper, that you've already learned to stomach, but a comedian.

You were led out of the room, up and up and up by the pink strais that looked as if it have been snatched straight out of the psych test picture. Once you were high enough, you were instructed to go though the huge, massive doors leading to the open playground.

You saw him clinging to the pretty girl immediately after all of the players entered the playground, it didn't really sting, but it tugged on something buried deep down beneath the layers of indifference you've grown throughout the last year and the half.

"Hey, señorita."

You turned your head instinctively on the word. It was your word. You didn't know why, but when Su-Bong called that random girl señorita, you felt that string snapping inside you, that definitely did sting. It stinged even more, when you saw Su-Bong getting all turned on when the girl sent him off, rolling her eyes in a sheer annoyance.

Fuck him. Fuck him. FUCK HIM

You shouldn't have felt anything. Not for him, not after all of this hardships of getting him off of your mind after you two broke up.

Somehow, the thoughts of your past relationships overstaffed your head, you were running and ceasing on autopilot while you brain suffered the memories of you and Su-Bong having the time of your lives.

You didn't register how you crossed the finish line, slithering further away from the doll through the panicking players right until you felt two big heavy palm on your shoulders. The heaviness that was too familiar, and the fingers that clawed your bones with such familiarity you haven't felt for far too long.

"Babe!" The loud shriek Su-Bong forced to come out sent shivers down your body. When you looked up at him, his face was gleaming as he was laughing and studying you head to toes. "My fucking Nebula baby is here, like damn bro we're gonna be unstoppable!"

"Don't fucking call me that..." You shook his hands off you, turning on the tips of your boots, trying to get closer to the pink soldiers standing next to the doors.

"Babe, don't you want to ask me how I've been?" Purplehead grabbed you by the wrist, motioning you to swirl back to face him once more. He bent untill he somewhat leveled to your height, his face perfectly positioned in front of yours, eyes on the same level. You hated to admit that he still was as handsome as you remembered, face so fuckable the only look at it made your stomach swirling.

"What point in asking if you're here?" You tried to maintain the annoyance, but felt your voice cracking just fairly a bit, which was enough to catch a sardonic smile on Su-Bong's face, right before the words settled in his head and his face tensed with thinking.

The metal dome covered the sunlight and the pink soldiers opened the doors, making all of the remaining players to walk back to the main room, dumbfounded. Some rat looking guy snatched Thanos from your side and walked him to their beds once you entered the room. Thank you, you thought, sighting out in relief.

From your bed you saw Su-Bong and this guy from across the room. The rat guy pointed in your direction vaguely, and Su-Bong almost punched him, you could read his expression saying "shut the fuck up, man". You spent a few more minutes staring mindlessly into Thanos' direction, not exactly registering what was going on in the room, but at once you thought that the effect of the pill he swallowed during the game wore off, the comic bravado wanished from Su-Bong's face as he stared equally mindlessly into the emptiness in front of him.

After the voting you all had a little meal prepared, it felt all too close to your heart with the school like lunch, as if they tried to put you all at ease. You saw Su-Bong starting a fight with that damn Coin man, the one you knew from Su-Bong's crypto problems, but it didn't take much time before the player 001 beat the shit out of him for interrupting the meal time.

You didn't quite recognize your own feelings seeing Su-Bong lying on the floor half dead as the man was having him in a chokehold, Thanos whimpering and squirming under him. You felt the corners of your mouth lifting in some manic rushing tide, but when the man finally stood up and you saw Su-Bong's face, corrupted with both fear and anger you suddenly felt pity for him. How miserable of you.

The night crippled in, but the slumber decided not to show you any signs of life. To be fair, you could find at least twenty more people who couldn't sleep that night, and well, you had more questions for those who could.

You jumped down from your bed and slowly walked towards the bathroom. It was when you have done all of your things and was splashing your face with the spring cold water you heard some muted grumbling over the wall.

"Fuck man, c'mon!"

You creeped out of the female toilet room, tiptoing to the male one, hearing the grumbles more clearly, as well as the slapping sounds. You opened the door only for a few inches, when you saw Thanos standing in front of the mirror with his pants lowered to his knees, trying to jerk off.

"Stupid fucking shit, just fucking work!" His low voice was on the verge of growling, he never looked as pathetic and lost as now, standing half naked, trying to bone his dick up. Having sex, or at the very least jerking off, was his second to favorite activity to relieve the stress. The first one was getting high as fuck.

"Stressful day, huh?" He jerked his head into your direction seeing you leaning on the doorframe, smile completely roasting him.

He gulped, looking at you, detecting your gaze that was focused on his slumber dick in his hand.

"My señorita, do you want to help?" The desperation and anger in his voice washed away as soon as he saw your mocking face. He he let go of his dick and took a step forward to you, shaking his legs in the air to free them from the pants. "You always knew how to get it going, my fucking love."

He wrapped his fingers around your wrists, tugging you closer untill your body was pressed fully to his, then he unclasped his palm and put one of his hands on the crook of your back, lowering it untill he was able to grab your ass cheek and squeeze it.

"Why should I?" You didn't move away, nor did you shake his hand off your ass, but you also moved your face to the side when he tried to kiss you. "There's a nice, pretty guy in that room, I'd rather fuck him."

You knew that stupid cunt had a rejection kink. The seconds you said those words you felt his dick starting hardening, pressing against your inner thigh.

Su-Bong chuckled lowly, his voice vibrating through your skin as his lips were in mere inches from your ear. "Cause you still fucking love me." He squeezed your ass harder, pressing you flat into his groin. "You know none of these suckers can outdone me in fucking, right? I'm a fucking hump legend."

Too miserably for you, he fucking was. You never met someone who fucked your better than Thanos did, especially when he was under the influence of his stupid pills. You hated it, the pills, but loved the ferocity with which he thrusted into you or eated you out untill he could feel your soul on his tounge when he was on the pills.

"C'mon, my señorita, I want you so bad, just suck my fucking dick, please."

You didn't even know why, but you gave in. Maybe because you didn't know if any of you would live to see another day, or cause you knew he had his pill again and the mere thought of what he could do to you made you shiver. Or maybe because his dick was already hard enough it could leave a bruise on your thigh if you had kept staying still like this for another minute.

You slithered your hand down between your bodies, finding his dick pressed to your leg, and carefully wrapped your fingers around it. Making just a few tugs, your ear felt arousingly hot from Su-Bong's slow breathing. When he got too comfortable with you jerking him off, you relocated your hand further down his shaft, barely touching his balls, as you lifted up on your tiptoes, brushing his ear with your lips.

"If I hear you calling other bitches señoritas, I'm gonna kill you myself." You heard him mewl pathetically into your shoulder as you squeezed your fingers around his balls, practically digging into them with your nails till Thanos hissed and digged his fingers into your ass cheek in return, surely leaving some nicely framed bruises on your skin.

"You gave this name to me," you pulled your hand with his balls in it to the side slightly, stretching the tender skin almost painfuy, winning the muffled whimper from Su-Bong, as he sucked hectically on your neck. "it's fucking mine to bear."

"Done, baby, you won't hear it." He wheezed into your shoulder bucking up his dick against your thigh. You laughed, the sound was barely a whisper tickling Su-Bong's ear, but boy did it make him shiver, biting the skin on your shoulder?

"Atta boy." You bit his earlobe and let go off his balls, hearing him growling into you as his balls got back to their rightful place.

Finally for him, your tore your body off his, feeling the stinging warmth where his fingers were nailed into your ass even after you tore his hand off it, and kneeled down, finding the eye contact with Thanos before even getting close to his dick. His eyes were reminding you of boba balls, just a huge black circles amidst the white eyeballs, he was so high on his pills it drew you crazy and made you feel wet between your legs.

"Make me cum, my señorita." Once you sat down on your knees, Thanos placed his hand on your head, sliding it down to your cheek and finally your chin, leaving the trail of goosebumps on your skin as he went.

You touched his dick with your finger, pressing it up to his belly and got closer to the shaft. Su-Bong saw your tounge swirling inside your mouth, and when you stuck it out completely soaked in saliva, he squeezed your chin with his fingers, tugging your face closer untill he felt the watery tip of your tongue touching the base of his dick and shivered, snickering lowly.

You pressed your tongue flat to his very base starting to slide your way up to the very tip of it, slowly and tormenting, hearing Thanos grunting though his teeth, his hand moving back to your nape, controlling your every move.

You were sliding up and down, rolling to the tip of your tongue and touching Thanos's dick just so lightly it sent waves of shivers down his body, and then rolling it back flat, polishing his shaft with your tongue.

"I missed that so much." Through the muffled whimpering Su-Bong almost moaned, tugging on your nape to make you lick him higher. "No one's sucking the way you do, babe, my fucking slut queen."

You couldn't still the smile forcing on your face. That one thing keeping the bond between you two - you both were each other's best fuckers. And that was such a huge problem. That wasn't something that's easy to get off your mind. Every man you had after Su-Bong was intrusively compared to him while being in you, and let's be honest, none of them had the high ground. Every time you were fucking someone, at some point your head started getting clouded. Su-Bong would have already made me cum twice.

And without wandering, you knew this sucker had the same problem having every single girl compared to you.

"You'll make me cum yes?" Thanos placed his free hand on your finger that was pressing his dick to his stomach and pulled it off, making his dick fall, bouncing up and down right next to your lips. "I'll pay you back, you won't be disappointed."

You knew you wouldn't. You were sitting on your knees, thighs squeezed together in an attempt to stop your lube running down as you looked up at Su-Bong, his wide stoned pupils studying every inch of your body, lips framed in a manic smile and purple hair catching the light of the lightbulbs sent another wave of swirling down your stomach. The things he would do to you...

You wrapped your palm around his shaft, directioning the tip of his dick into your mouth and started circling it with the tip of your tongue, barely touching it. You made a few circles clockwise, a few counterclockwise, you licked it up and down and left and right, hearing Thanos' breath became loose and rapid. While you were circling his head slowly, your hands were working up and down his shaft.

"I've dreamt about thi- fuck-..." He muttered, his hand jerked automatically, sticking you on his dick deeper. Thanos didn't give you the time to adjust, starting shoving his dick down your mouth, deep into the warm tender mouth of yours, feeling your tongue sliding flat on his shaft until he felt the tip of his dick pressing into the back of your throat, you gagging, spasming over his shaft, only making Thanos moan gutturally, watching your head bob a little with a rythm he controlled. "My fucking sweet paradise. Fu-uuck!"

You felt his precum sliding down your throat, almost tickling making your insides jolt, as you started loosing your breath. The bolt of panic shattered though your chest as you started gagging without any air in your lungs, but, at this point, your desire to finish Thanos dry made you collect yourself. You started breathing though your nose, letting him guide your head in a timing that was perfect for him. You would make him cum and he would eat you out afterwards.

You felt his finish was close enough, so you grabbed his balls again, squeezing them gently, tickling and caressing them with your fingers, feeling them hardening under your touch and his dick trembling in your mouth as Thanos let the guttural moan into the air, his dick spurting semen into your mouth, nearly choking you.

"My señorita." He took his dick out of your mouth, tilting your chin up to look up at him, wiping with his finger the mix of his own cum and your drool that was soaking through the corners of your lips. "That was so fucking hot"

The way you swallowed Thanos' seed maintaining the eye contact visibly brought shivers on him, it awakened something animalistic in him as he pulled you up by the chin untill you stood up firmly and kissed you, ravaging your mouth completely. His tongue wasn't waiting for invitation, he slide it between your lips and you opened your mouth instinctively, feeling how his tongue slid deeper into your mouth over your own. At this point, you could only whimper into his mouth, thighs pressed to each other in order to find at least a bit of satisfaction.

"Fuck!"

Your kiss was interrupted by the two voices down the hall, two male voices that were creeping closer to the toilet.

"Fuck babe!" Thanos rattled, grabbing you by your pants and tugging into the closest stall, closing the doors behind you shut. The adrenaline got into him, his pupils, thought you thought it's impossible, got even bigger, as he untied the laces on your pants and tugged I'd down, along with the panties. He bent just a bit, to be able to press his lips to the side of your face and whisper gravely, "you thought it's gonna stop me?" His hand slid down your body, forcing you to open your legs. "Fuck no."

And you felt two of his digits sliding into you roughly. He didn't give you a chance to gather your scattered thoughts together, or adjust to his fingers, when he curled them, one at a time, shoving then up your cunt.

Thanos growled softly into your ear, you didn't even grasp what was the reason of your airy moan - his fingers or his voice, vibrating though your skin, but with two people outside your stall you did your best to still your vocals, only letting the little weep escape your lips and then shutting them together in panic.

"Good fuck, good day, huh?" His voice sent goosebumps running down all over your body, making you squeeze your thighs around his hand, your hips volunteerly moving down on his fingers.

"Okay, children's games, done" Thanos said, suddenly making your cunt uncomfortably empty, greening down on you, his body, towering high over yours squeezed the little whimper out of you which you bit down, almost bloodying your lip. "Want it?" He snickered jittery before bringing his soaked fingers to your lips, sliding them lightly on your bottom. You lips fell open as on a command, but as soon as you craned your neck forward to embrace his digits with the warm hug of your lips, Thanos yanked his hand back, his fingers in his mouth now and sucked them viciously, testing you before sliding down to his knees.

For a second, you forgot about all the people in the toilet and slammed the wall of the stall with your flat palm, trying to redirect your frustration and agony out of your mouth to your hand, while Thanos was sliding his hands up your inner thighs, spreading them without any effort. He pressed his face to your pubic area and breathed you in vigorously before sighing out.

The proximity of his face to your cunt sent a tugging pulsation through your body, making you squirm on your toes, hips bucking up. You want to face fuck him untill his mad soaked in your cum, just as in old good times.

In a second, you put your free hand on his head, fingers threading through his purple hair. You tugged on his nape, angling his head up untill his chin was on your puffed, soaking wet folds, and you moaned though the bitten down lips.

"That's so fucking beautiful." He said as he lowered his head, sliding down your folds with his chin and slurped you for the all the miserable desires you had. He eated you vigorously, the sound of him sucking your lube messy, letting his drool drip down your thighs mixed with your wetness turned you dazzlingly dizzy. Thanos was rubbing his tongue flat up and down your clit, pulling it in and out of your tight hole, your walls clenching hectically desiring something more. Something bigger that just a tongue. It wrecked your insides. It warmed up your cunt and made you even wetter, and you tugged on Thanos' hair to tear him off you just to see how wet his face was, covered in your slime.

"Fuck..." Was the only thing you could moaned out, looking at his absolutely deranged smile and his tounge framing his glossy lips. Thanos' eyes were nothing but pupils, two black buttomless holes staring back at you with manic desire, the previously dried blood on his cheek got soggy again and was smeared all over his jaw. Damn, that stupid señorita girl from before died in from of him and now you fucked your man with her blood on his face and for fuck's sake that almost turned your insides upside down.

Thanos wrapped his palms around your wrist and freed his hair from your grasp, pressing your hands to the wall on the both sides of you. "Let me finish my meal, babe."

He fell back into your cunt, licking you dry and biting you clit just enough for it to teeter on a slightly painful side, making you wriggle, your ass catching on a wooden wall of the stall.

"Su-.." You caught your breath as a heat wave slammed down at your nether regions, curling your toes and fingers as Thanos kept slurping the juices your body rewarded him with for his work. "-Bong..." His name finally left your lips as you collapsed on his face, your feet too weak to hold your body up.

You barely registered how he snickered, one sound on his lips - lust. He pressed his lips back to your folds and slurped all of your cum at once, his tongue circling around your cunt gathering the juice.

"My señorita..." Thanos put his hands under your quivering thighs as his head appeared in front of yours. He kissed you roughly, letting you taste yourself from his tongue, salty and sweet. "I told you I'll pay you back."

He sat you down on a toilet, opening the door slightly enough to check if anyone was still there. No one.

"We live another day, babe, and I shove it up your cunt." Thanos looked at you, cupping his dick in his hand and smiling like a demented junkie he was. "Let's go, you first."

You tugged on your panties and pants, action was rather challenging with your whole body still trembling from your climax, and popped your head out of the stall. The path was clear. Walking out of the stall you threw the pants Su-Bong left laying on the floor under the sinks to him and was about to left the room, when he wrapped his hand around your waist, slamming your body into his. "Please, babe, don't die, cause I'll need it again." Su-Bong murmured into your ear before leaving a wet kiss on your neck.

You trotted back to your bed, people were still mostly sleeping. Barely making your way up, climbing the ladder to your bed, you sat, knees pressed to your chest, and watched Thanos walking jauntily across the dormitory. His fucking cheeky ass would absolutely run his mouth to his new friend when he wakes up, no chances Thanos would keep his tongue behind his teeth about having the blowjob of his life.

You clenched your jaw on the thought of it, but, ugh. That would be a problem for the future you. Now, you had to fall asleep with the warm pleasure between your thighs, praying for Su-Bong's name not to slip out of your lips in a dream.

Tags: @verdantsecretgardens @wintaemoonjen

#hooray to everyone who get 'what we do in the shadows' thing in the name of the fic lmao #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong smut #thanos smut #squid game thanos x reader #squid game thanos #squid game x reader #squid game smut #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #x reader #x reader smut #i need him to wreck me so f bad #just please 🥵🥵🥵🥵

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primofate · 1 year ago

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Confessions Series - Part 2: Description [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

In a nutshell: He asks if you have your eyes set on someone. You start describing HIS features and watch for his reaction. (Hint: He likes you too)

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - Overheard)

Warnings: The usual, haven't written in a while, please forgive mistakes, bit of angst in Diluc (couldn't help it), I am a sleep deprived mother, some profanity, for some reason did not feel like writing Zhongli though he's one of my faves.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gaming, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Wriothesley, Xiao, gn!reader

Personal Favourites: Diluc, Wriothesley

Aether

"Yeah, I do," you start. "He's very selfless...He's always running around helping other people,"

Aether nods, intense gaze in his eyes while listening.

"Hmm...He has...a partner. Like a companion he always travels with..."

Aether's brows start to furrow and his head tilts the slightest bit. Paimon flying next to him has no clue who it is whatsoever.

"He's not originally from Teyvat...He's on a journey, you see..." this is where you start getting nervous

You see it click in Aether's head slowly, and his eyes start to widen the slightest bit

"Hey, that sounds an awful lot like you, traveller! Why have we never met this person before, Y/N?" Paimon asks and you only smile.

"P-Paimon," Aether glances at her and then back to you. It's silent for a moment. Paimon is super confused.

But Aether being Aether didn't want to get the wrong idea and racks up the courage to ask you one last question. "He's on a journey...to look for his twin sister?"

You smile the brightest smile you've ever given him. "Correct!"

"Ah...Well..." Aether starts to feel the heat on his cheeks. "That's..." he doesn't say anything else for a few seconds. "Don't get me wrong, I'm just...I'm happy!"

Is basically flustered when he realizes you've technically just confessed to him.

Albedo

"Simply put, I think he's dedicated to his craft," You shrug and smile

"...An admirable trait," he responds.

"He's frequently in Dragonspine. He spends a bit of time in his lab there," you decide to just go straight for the obvious.

Albedo pauses. "I...see..." Turns to you with a small smile "I wasn't aware that you were that fond of me,"

"Now you know," you simply say and try to play it off with a wave of your hand.

He chuckles under his breath and strides over to you while saying. "Well then, I suppose it's my turn to talk about the person I've set my eyes on,"

Proceeds to describe you accurately, down to your likes and dislikes. In his eyes, you seem like something so precious and you can't help but feel a bit embarrassed.

Alhaitham

"Hmm... Sort of," you explain. "He's a little...hard to reach,"

Alhaitham "...and you still pursue him?"

You laugh a bit "I'm hardly pursuing him, I'm just...observing. I like watching him, even though he has the most unreadable face I've seen,"

Alhaitham goes quiet for a moment. He catches on fast, he already has an idea but is cautious about what he says. "...I see," he doesn't ask anything else, but you continue to offer information.

"He likes reading. Really smart guy...but kind of no nonsense type. Very straight to the point," You begin to feel a little nervous so you pretend to read your own book with a small shrug.

The silence is deafening.

"I suspect that type of person will be hard to put up with," he suddenly says aloud and you chuckle in response.

"Possibly, but he seems to be putting up with me too...I guess?"

He suddenly closes his book and leans forward to pry the one in your hands away. He locks his gaze with you. "...'Putting up' is hardly the word I would use." his lips twitch the slightest bit before continuing. "He has little to no patience for other people...so if he keeps you around...perhaps it signals something else,"

"Something else...As in, I'm special?"

Again he quiets for a moment, before he stands up, chair scraping the floor. "...Precisely," he turns to start walking out of the library, waving a hand behind him. "I'll pick you up in the morning tomorrow,"

Ayato

"I do, but he's a very busy sort of man,"

Ayato "Is that so?" he pours tea for you.

"Quite. He's also a very important person,"

He hums and watches the billowing steam from the tea. "It sounds as if I might know this person," but he genuinely doesn't know it's him, he just thinks its another noble.

"...You most definitely know him. He has a sister. Lovely girl." This is where you avert your gaze from him in fear of him instantly connecting the dots.

He talks in pauses "A...sister..." His mind is starting to make connections but he can't be quite sure yet. So he prods further. "...Does she happen to have a vision?"

"A cryo vision holder, yes," you're biting the inside of your lip at this point. There's a moment of silence before you hear Ayato laughing rather gleefully, like he was amused by a story.

"I see." he ends with a chuckle. "I apologize for being so busy, Y/N," he smiles at you "I promise I'll do my best to arrange my priorities in order to spend more time with you,"

Baizhu

"He takes his job too seriously and can be quite reckless...Sometimes he even puts himself in danger,"

Changsheng catches on immediately. The snake had already known for a while. Baizhu was just being dense. "Oh here we go," the snake half whines.

Baizhu gives it a weird look before turning his attention back to you. "That does sound reckless,"

"I've told him a couple of times to think about himself too...but I guess he's just really passionate about his job,"

Baizhu sort of shrugs, "What IS his job?"

"...Well for starters he owns a pharmacy around town,"

To Baizhu the realization hits all too slowly. It's not that he was slow or dense, but he was having a hard time believing that it was him you were talking about, specially when you hadn't said it outfront.

"...You do realize I'm the only one who owns a pharmacy around town?" he asks, eyes piercing through you and awaiting your answer.

Changsheng is the one who answers for you. "Yes you ridiculous doctor, Y/N's pertaining to you!"

It's the first time you've seen him blush and he turns his head away when he does so. "I-I see, well...that's rather, unexpected...but not unwelcome,"

Clears his throat "Just give me a moment"

Changsheng would roll its eyes if it could.

Bennett

"Has a lot of energy...Sometimes I wonder where he gets all of it. I really like him for that though."

Deflates as soon as you start talking about your "crush". What kind of answer was he expecting anyway? That you had eyes for him?

"He has a bit of a...problem when it comes to luck," you continue

Bennett stops, you look at him and you can practically see the gears in his head starting to turn a little faster.

"Y-Y/N? Are you talking about..." then the gears suddenly stop. "Oh what am I saying, it can't be. Ahahaha! Let's go!" starts walking again as if nothing happened

Your jaw drops and you're forced to just DIRECTLY tell him you're talking about him.

"...Oh...Oh! F-For real?! Oh...Sorry... I just thought... there's no way! B-But, I'm really glad! Really!"

Chongyun

"Hmm...He's a little shy...but he's very responsible,"

Chongyun stares at you intently and nods as if taking notes.

"He doesn't like spicy stuff,"

Chongyun nods twice, eagerly.

"He's very dedicated in learning about thaumaturgy,"

Chongyun blanks out, brows furrow but still nods. Slowly.

"He's really good with a claymore too!"

Chongyun stops and stares at you, you see a hint of red gracing his cheeks "Y/N...You can't possibly be...talking about... m-m-m-"

Can't seem to say it, so you outright say that it is, in fact, him.

Combusts into a tomato red

Cyno

"How do I say this...He's a pretty strict guy." The two of you are playing Invokation TCG during this convo.

"Mmhmm..." Cyno is focused on his cards, frankly he doesn't give a craps ass who you're into. He didn't even know why he asked, he just dug himself a hole.

"...but he really only takes his work seriously. It's his job to be serious, I guess. I think that's what Matras need to do," he finished his turn and its yours now, though he's still studying his cards intently. Until you get to the Matra part.

"He's a Matra?" You rarely see a surprised face on Cyno so you focus your gaze on him. "Which one?" He further asks. Honestly he looks about to murder someone.

You blank out a bit at how intense his stare was, "Well...You know. That one, the one who's really into Invokation TCG,"

He immediately follows up without missing a beat "I don't know anyone else who's into--" then it clicks.

It was so damn silent for a good 10 seconds. You clear your throat, tear your eyes off him "Um, it's your turn,"

STILL doesn't budge until he finally goes back to his cards with a whisper, you can't really tell but he looks slightly bashful and you can barely, BARELY hear him "...If I win then we go on a date,"

"Okay, and if you lose?"

Cyno "...I'm not gunna lose,"

"See, I told you he's a really serious guy,"

Dainsleif

"I think he's a very dedicated person," you get lost in thought a little, thinking about him. "Whenever I look at him...Sometimes I feel as if there's a certain sadness in him... Perhaps he blames himself for not being able to protect his nation,"

He IMMEDIATELY knows. And he knows that you hurt for him too. How could he not?

"He searches for answers... I don't know for how long, I suppose a long, long time," you close your eyes, imagining how long he must have been wandering Teyvat.

You only open your eyes when you feel a hand brush against yours. He's looking straight at you, neither happy nor sad. "...You don't have to feel that way, for my circumstances,"

The brush against your hand disappears and reappears next to your cheek, his fingers gently resting on it "...Knowing that you feel that way, has taken away some of the burden that I shoulder,"

His gaze suddenly hardens and his voice drops to a whisper, "But please, just don't end up in the same way as everyone else,"

Diluc (I don't know why I end up writing a whole novel for this guy. I guess he's my OG favourite)

You pause for a moment, wondering how to describe Diluc. "...Sometimes... I feel as if I know a lot about him and yet... he's still far off in the distance,"

Diluc, rifling through paperwork, doesn't even look at you. "...That tells me nothing about him," there's a bit of bite in his statement.

You sigh a little, "I mean, simply said he's a hardworking man. He always has Mondstadt's best interests in mind...but he prefers to work alone,"

He's silent, but you can still hear the paper shuffling.

"....but people love him. They care for him. I suppose I understand why he keeps a distance but..." at this point you don't even realize that you're just rambling and staring into space. Sort of in a daze of thinking out loud. "...isn't it lonely? ...I suppose I shouldn't assume how he feels. Maybe he's fine with it...I just wonder how long till he sees us..." there's silence, no ruffle of papers, you're still just staring at the bookshelf and you continue in a monotone voice. "...or sees me,"

You blink, and all of a sudden its as if a magic spell is cast on you and you wake up to the reality that you've been rambling about him. You sit up straight "Oh," then turn to him with a careful smile. You don't think he knows what or who you're talking about anyway. "I better get going," you stand, "Jean must be waiting for me."

You leave, and he doesn't stop you.

You don't really think anything of it, feeling as if your whole monologue was very vague...but to your surprise he knocks at your door in the evening, there's a bit of rain falling.

"Diluc? You're drenche--"

"I see you,"

The determination in his voice lulls you to keep quiet and only stare up at him, wondering if he had more to say, but instead of saying something, he leans in, wrapping his arms around you and resting his forehead on your shoulder, as if he had been defeated.

You only welcome his embrace, and, for the first time in a long time. Diluc finally feels like he's home.

Gaming

"Passion!" You nod your head as you say it. "He knows what he wants to do and is incredibly dedicated to it!"

Gaming looks surprised, has no idea you're talking about him. "Huh! That's really cool!" He thinks he's the total opposite. "Wish I could be as dedicated as him."

You kind of laugh out loud and he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Gosh you really sell yourself short," you shake your head "Anyway, this guy, right, he kinda works two jobs," you put out your hand to count one and two "One, for the Secure Transport Agency and two, he's in a Wushou Troupe,"

Gaming instantly straightens his back and looks at you wide-eyed. You figure you had to be direct when it came to him otherwise he'd never get it with how modest he was.

"...You're...talking about...me?" You smile at him sympathetically.

"You know, Gaming, I wish you saw yourself the way others saw you. You're a great person,"

Big smile, but legit looks like he's about to cry. "Between the two of us? I think you're greater Y/N,"

Heizou

"...Honestly he's kind of a flirt," you raise your eyebrows at the fact and kind of question yourself why you like this kind of person. "Makes me wonder if he does that to everyone, you know?"

Heizou hums and puts his hand under his chin in a "thinking position"

"That's not enough evidence to go by. Perhaps we can investigate this guy together to see if he's worthy,"

You look at him, pursing your lips while musing and giving him a suspicious look. You're not sure if he's figured it out.

He's got no idea. I mean, it was a pretty general description. "Any distinguishing features?" he asks.

You look at him in a deadpan manner. "Red hair, I guess. And moles under his eyes,"

He looks back at you with a matching blank face.

Then breaks into a wide, close eyed grin. "I see! From experience, that person is truly trustworthy,"

You sigh a little, "Is he though?"

He chuckles heartily. "I promise you he is," offers you his hand with a genuine smile. "Let me show you,"

Itto

"Ummm... big, tall, strong looking guy. Intimidating at first look but he's actually a dork," you explain.

Itto crosses his arms above his chest with an unamused face. "Tch! No way! Ain't no one taller than me in Inazuma!" Then he looks smug again. "Anyway, keep goin'. What else?" Only asked you because he wants to see what your "type" is.

"...Popular? Nah... Infamous is the word, I think. He kinda gets into a lot of trouble,"

Itto raises a brow "You serious? Whaddyou want with someone like that?" as if he wasn't a troublemaker himself.

"I mean... He also loves life and somehow always sees the good side of things."

Itto "Eh... guess that's a good thing..." folds his arms behind his head and huffs.

This guy is never gunna get it so you drop more obvious hints. "He's an oni who has his own gang."

For a split second he looked like he was going to get it, and then... "WHAT?! There's another oni who wants to challenge the Arataki Gang?"

"That's not what I--"

punches his fist onto his palm "Lead the way Y/N, let me at 'em!"

"I'm talking about you!"

"Huh?"

"Itto, there's no other oni around town!" leave it to him to make you exasperated.

He quiets for a few seconds. "...But Y/N..."

You expectantly stare at him, curious what he was going to say about your confession.

"...Did you just call me a dork?"

Of course that's what he picks up on.

When he finally processes it though, he's stoked and on an all time high.

Kaeya

"...good at talking to people, and he knows it... Exudes charisma like he breathes air," You're saying this with a glare.

He chuckles and rests his head on his fist. "Why, pray tell, do you look angry when saying that?"

"Not angry..." you mumble under your breath, eyes trailing away from him. "Just... probably a lot of people like him,"

"And you don't like that?" He smirks. He totally knows.

"...No...Well...I'm okay with it... It's just... I think he's so much more than what he shows to others,"

That, he wasn't expecting. He actually feels genuinely touched.

"Sure he jokes around a lot...Is good at making people feel comfortable...but he's also kind...and you can always count on him," there's a faraway gaze in your eyes now, a small smile on your face. "To me, he's...a safe space."

Kaeya's smile drops. It looks like he's unhappy and you think that maybe you've made a mistake. Still...there's no way he knows that it's him, right? It was kinda vague...

You're about to stand and excuse yourself but he catches your wrist easily. "...You know..." he starts, meeting you eye to eye. He looks at you as if he's looking into your soul, his eyes the gentlest you've seen them.

"You make it so hard, not to fall deeper in love with you,"

Lyney (I have no idea how this ended up so dramatic)

"He isn't exactly a trickster...but he has a lot of tricks up his sleeve,"

Lyney "Oh?" Raises an eyebrow. Something kind of clicks in him, but he shakes it off. "The good kind or the bad kind?"

You stall a little, thinking of the answer, knowing that he's Fatui. "The...good...kind,"

"You don't sound very sure," he gives you a lopsided smile.

"It's complicated," you admit. "Regardless of the circumstances though, I think he's a great magician,"

You watch his face turn into surprise quite quickly, but he still looks and feels unsure of himself. "Oh, perhaps...I can learn a thing or two from him?"

Your smile turns forced and hard. He can't be serious? He STILL doesn't know, or...what?

"I...Well..." You don't know what to say next, but he seems to get the idea.

"Sorry, have I put you in a hard place? Ahaha..." Scratches the back of his head. "My apologies, I was just curious,"

This, for some reason, really puts you off and you feel as if you've been rejected, even though you technically had not outright told him that you're talking about him.

It seems silly for you to get upset, but you are. So you stand, and make a request of him. "Can we... just pretend this conversation didn't happen?" and you give him some sort of excuse that you need to run an errand or something, and you're off, leaving him feeling...guilty. But he doesn't know why. Or does he?

Lyney would look like the type of person who would be confident about himself. But, really, as a magician, he had to be 1000% sure about something before he went ahead with it, and so...that's where his doubt stemmed from.

Lynnette is really the one who knocks some sense into him. "...and you...let Y/N leave?" after hearing the story from him.

"Oh, Lyney... Regardless of what Y/N feels... For you, next to Freminet and I, is there someone else that you love dearly?"

That's how he ends up at your doorstep. Though you've seen his disappearing rose trick hundreds of times, he was the most sincere at that moment, when he says sorry that he didn't get the hint and to give him a chance.

Neuvillette

"Serious person. He seems to put his work first, above all else," you say. "I respect him a lot for that,"

Neuvillette is interested in what you say, but doesn't know at all that it's him. "He does sound quite respectable," he says while looking through some files.

"A long time ago he said that he feels like he's an outsider...but really I feel like there isn't anyone who knows Fontaine the way that he does,"

Neuvillette, moves the file he was reading downwards, just to look at you questioningly. "He's from Fontaine?" this was surprising to him.

"Well...he currently resides in Fontaine, yes," you nod.

"Ah," he answered curtly. "And I have never met him?" he asks.

"...He's very busy." you bite your lip, about to say something and you know that the next sentence is the point of no return. "He's the Iudex...so it's hard to catch him,"

You swear you can hear your heart hammering in your chest.

You see him put his files down and just stare at you with a sort of...unsure look.

His shoulders relax, he wasn't even aware he had been tense that whole time. "That... must have taken a lot of consideration and courage to say," he clears his throat.

You only nod your head slowly, moving your gaze away from him with an awkward smile. Hand absentmindedly grabbing a book and flipping through the pages...you had no idea what you were doing out of nervousness.

"I apologize...I'm unfamiliar with what to do in these kinds of situations... However," he pauses and seems to think carefully about what he was going to say next. "Please don't take it as a rejection. I'd be honored to navigate this with you, if you would so graciously have me,"

Scaramouche

"He's an asshole," you bite back a laugh.

He instantly knows.

"Actually he acts all tough only to give in to his inner-kind-of-agreeable-personality,"

He snorts

"What? Am I wrong?" you challenge him. You KNOW that he knows. The two of you have been hovering around each other for a while, and there's a certain closeness between the two of you. Though that line was never crossed.

He doesn't answer you back but prods you more. "Is that all? You like that he's an asshole? Are you some type of masochist?"

You almost laugh. "No, you moron. I'm saying he has a weird way of showing he cares. He's always biting my head about not being careful enough. But if he really didn't care he wouldn't be screaming at me, you know what I mean?"

Scaramouche grumbles something under his breath and crosses his arms, turning away from you.

"Say that again?" You ask, not hearing what he said.

"...I said, you're not as stupid as I thought you were," shrugs his concealed embarrassment off and turns back to you all nonchalant again. "Anyway, stop yapping and get going, we got things to do,"

Snatches your hand and starts pulling you to walk with him.

Tartaglia (I feel like this is ridiculously short but I also feel like Tartaglia would have known a LONG time ago if the two of you had the feels for each other)

"Oh man...Probably the most reckless man I know,"

Also knows. Instantly. But shuts his mouth just so he can listen to you talk about him, but it gets deep real quick.

"In my opinion he's a handsome guy. Real charming," you smirk the tiniest bit. "but I don't know if I can keep up with him, honestly. It's a little hard not knowing when he's going to come back...or if he's even gunna come back at all,"

You weren't going to hide the fact that you were scared shitless he didn't return from Fontaine for ages. You legitimately thought he had died.

Tartaglia stops you there, by suddenly cradling your cheek. "Y/N," he's wearing a pained expression. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be, it's your job, right?" You reassure him, and shrug.

He sighs "Yes, but I'll promise this to you as I've promised my family," he smiles, the most confident smile you've seen on him. Even more confident than when he wields his blades. "I'll come back to you, I always will,"

Wriothesley

"Er... How do I say this... He kind of has some... big boss energy?"

"Oh?" he sips at his tea, glancing at you while he looks at today's paper. "So he's a bigshot?" he asks curiously.

"Somewhat, yes. Intimidating at first look, but...he just has a great sense of responsibility," you pick at the selection of cakes and cookies he has.

"Huh," he lets out in a quick huff. In the deepest, DEEPEST parts of his mind there is a NANOSECOND that he thinks its him but it gets erased so quickly he's not even sure that he had thought about it.

"Sounds like a good person... Any interesting, weird quirks?" he grins as he says this, yet again glancing at your expression.

Your lips tremble a bit at what you're about to say, because you're SURE he was going to get it once you say it. You gulp and feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand before you say out loud "He likes tea. I kind of wonder if it's an addiction," you can't meet his eyes.

He's looking at the paper he's reading but nothing.registers.in.his.brain.its.like.it.stopped.working.

You shift in the uncomfortable silence but he calmly folds up the newspaper and places it on his table. "...I'm inclined to ask, because it would be embarrassing if I got the wrong idea,"

"Mmhmm," you pop a cookie in your mouth to distract yourself.

"By any chance, are you...talking about me?"

"Mm," you nod your head, still not looking at him and glue your eyes on the cookies instead, out of embarrassment.

Suddenly chuckles. You brave a peek at him, now covering his eyes with a single hand, head tipped back to rest on his chair.

You're not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

"Sorry, no, it's just... I didn't think it would happen this way." Visibly takes in a big breath and sighs it out slowly. Seems to have regained his composure and is back to his confident self, smiling at you. "Thanks Y/N, I... don't think it's much of a secret that I enjoy your company too. I'm just a little embarrassed that you beat me to it...some big boss energy huh?"

Xiao

"...He takes on everything by himself. I worry about him," You look at the stars as you say this. Xiao doesn't say anything.

"But I'm glad that he's opening up a lot more now. It's great to see him among friends,"

Xiao has a feeling at this point, that its him you're talking about, but he still doesn't say anything and keeps his gaze in front of him rather than on you.

"Yes, the road in front of him is long but...he's also already come a long way," you sigh a little "The time of Rex Lapis has long gone, but he still sticks to his principles. I think his dedication is part of what I like about him,"

This is when he turns to you, blank look on his face, contemplating on what to do. When you turn to meet his gaze, its then that he decides to bridge the gap between the two of you, shoulder to shoulder, leaning in sideways to catch your lips in a chaste and rather shy kiss.

"You should give a bit of credit to yourself, for putting up with me all these years, Y/N,"

End!

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#genshin impact #genshin fluff #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #gaming x reader #scaramouche x reader #itto x reader #aether x reader #cyno x reader #albedo x reader #ayato x reader

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killerplink · 13 days ago

Text

STUFFED

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Words: ~12k

Plot: You're not exactly sure when teasing turned to tension or when tension turned to need tonight. All you know is that your knees hit the floor fast and willingly.

A/N: Hiii, besties 🥹 I'm so sorry if it felt like I fell off the face of the Earth. I swear I didn't die (sadly lmao), but life's been a whole ass shitstorm lately. every time I sat down thinking "yup, I'm gonna lock in and finish a WIP" (yes, the same ones holding me at gunpoint at this point), the universe just said "lol, nope" 🫠 and don't even get me started on sleep because I don't know her ✋🏻 I've been running on fumes, caffeine, and the occasional mental breakdown lately 😩 BUT I'll try to wrap up the Roy and Dick ones I already started and get those out to you soon, pinky fucking promise 🥺 and I'm sorry for the delay in answering your asks too, I've had the energy of a damp dishrag lately so my brain has been MIA right along with my will to function 😩 I've seen some absolute bangers sitting there and I can't wait to giggle and kick my feet over them when I finally get my shit together 🤭

anyway ✋🏻 I love you, besties 🖤 thank you for sticking around and checking in on my chaotic ass. you guys seriously mean the world to me 🥹

P.S: I'm sorry this is once again a very long one-shot, but I needed the comfort (and the filth), and I fully took it out on Jay and his girl 🥺 hope you won't mind me projecting all over the place with this one 🏃🏻‍♀️

There's just something about the way he always looks at you. Half lidded eyes, a lazy smirk like he already knows exactly how wrecked you're going to be by the end of this. It's not even about control with him—though, let's be honest, he's very good at that too—it's about how easy it is to fall apart.

Jason loves watching you wreck yourself on his dick before he even fucks you. You're on your knees, lips stretched tight around his cock, drool dripping down your chin as you take him deep, gagging when he presses against the back of your throat. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding you, ruining you as he grunts, watching your messy, desperate struggle to please him.

And you are desperate. The way you bob your head, working your tongue under his shaft, flattening it against the thick vein along the underside, the way you hollow your cheeks, humming just to hear him curse under his breath, the way your thighs press together because you can't help it.

"Fuck, baby, look at you," he groans, voice ragged, a smug smirk pulling at his lips. The bastard. "So damn pretty with your mouth full. Gettin' me all wet, huh?"

His grip tightens in your hair when you try to pull back for a breath, forcing your nose right back into the skin at the base of his cock. You choke on it, sputter around him, and his abs tense with a low, filthy groan.

"That's it, baby. Take it. I know you can."

His voice is all need and heat, that low rasp that always gets your thighs rubbing together just from the way he talks. And fuck, he's so thick, it always feels like your mouth is stretched to the limit around him. Heavy on your tongue, velvety soft skin dragging along your lips every time he rocks his hips. Precum smears warm and salty against the back of your throat with every shallow thrust, leaking so much you swear he's teasing you on purpose.

You can't tell if you're more drunk on the weight of his dick in your mouth or the way he sounds, like he's two seconds from losing it and fucking your throat until he's spilling every drop straight down it.

Your hands are trembling against his thighs, fingers digging into the muscle as you breathe through your nose, spit pooling in your mouth while you let him use you. And Jason? He looks fucking wrecked. Head tipped back, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring like he's trying to keep it together but failing. His hips roll forward slow, fucking your mouth with lazy, unhurried thrusts, savoring every single second.

And you love it. His praise, his dick, the way your jaw aches and your throat burns and your heart flutters every time he guides you back down with that big, rough palm. You love how messy he lets you get, how greedy he lets you be. And yeah, maybe you also love how hard he gets just by watching you ruin yourself on his cock.

"Messy little mouth," he mutters, looking down at you. "You like it like this, huh? Like bein' full of my dick, doll? Bet your panties are soaked already, aren't they?"

You blink up at him, teary eyed and flushed, and the softest little whine bubbles from your throat around his cock and fuck if that doesn't nearly snap his restraint clean in half.

"Jesus Christ," he groans, head tipping back for a second, fingers flexing in your hair. "Such a good fuckin' girl for me."

Your whimper vibrates around him, and he feels it. He sees how desperate you are, how your pussy is probably dripping already. And it is. Jason chuckles, tugging your head back until his cock slips free, leaving you gasping, saliva connecting your lips to the tip in a little string before it breaks.

"God, I should film this," he pants, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Let you watch how dumb you look fuckin' your pretty mouth on my dick. You'd love that shit, wouldn't you? Fuckin' droolin' like a desperate little thing."

Then he's pushing back in, slow at first, but deep, watching your lips stretch wide around him, the corners of your eyes welling up as your jaw quivers, throat tightening in reflex when his dick slides right past that soft, choking point. He groans again—deep, possessive—and this time there's no teasing in it, just raw hunger.

The soft, wet sound of it, the messy little gasps and wet clicks when he fucks into your mouth makes his cock twitch. His hips roll forward slow, controlled, but there's nothing soft about it. He feeds you his cock in slow, thick strokes, watching your lips strain, your breath stutter as he starts fucking your mouth. You moan, choked and needy around him, and he feels it vibrate down his shaft, feels it all the way in his gut.

Your eyes flutter, tears spilling over when his hips snap forward just a little sharper, his balls brushing your chin. His dick is a fucking mess—slick with your drool, precum smeared along the thick vein on the underside, shining every time he drags it back over your tongue. Spit strings from your lips when he rocks out, then sinks right back in, wet and heavy on your tongue.

"Shit, yeah... there she is," he rasps, eyes blown wide with lust as he takes in the sight of you—glassy eyed, panting, wrecked just from sucking his dick.

It's filthy. Sloppy. And he fucking loves how your spit coats him, how you're gagging just a little, nose scrunching when the head hits the back of your throat again. Loves the little shivery sounds you make when your jaw is stretched to the limit, lips swollen and slick.

But just when you're choking a little sweeter around him, eyes glassy and tongue flicking against the underside of his cock, he tightens his grip in your hair and pulls you off with a wet pop. He groans, jaw clenched like it physically hurts to stop. Because fuck, he'd love nothing more than to stuff your throat full and blow his load right down it, watch you swallow every drop while you blink up at him, all pretty and ruined, but he'd rather cum inside you.

"C'mere."

Before you can respond or process what's happening, Jason's got you on the couch on all fours, back arched, ass in the air, completely at his mercy. You don't even notice him sliding your panties down until they're halfway down your thighs, the fabric sticking just a little from how wet you are. He hums behind you, one big, warm hand squeezing your ass before he slaps it, the other dragging the lace the rest of the way down.

"Fuck, baby," he mutters when he feels how soaked they are before he even touched you. "You're already drippin' for me."

Then his hand slides in, rough fingers gliding right through your puffy folds, and your moan is needy and breathless and embarrassingly loud. The way he touches you isn't fast or hard, but it wrecks you, sends heat crawling up your spine like fire.

His hands spread you wide, thick fingers dragging through your dripping pussy before he moves higher, teasing over that tight little hole with slow, lazy circles.

"You ever let anyone touch you here before, pretty girl?" he murmurs, almost mocking as he presses the pad of his thumb against it, not quite pushing in.

But he knows the answer. Doesn't matter what you say, no one's touched you like he does. No one's ruined you like this.

You whine, pushing back against him, but he chuckles, pulling his hand away completely, leaving you empty, aching. Then his cock is there, heavy, dragging through your slick, getting nice and messy before he taps the head against your clit, making you jerk.

"God, you're so fuckin' wet," he groans, giving your ass a sharp slap, watching the ripple with hungry eyes. "What, all that just from suckin' my dick?"

He lines himself up, teasing your entrance, pushing in just the tip before pulling back out, making you sob. "C'mon, baby. Beg for it."

You do, because you need him. Because you're dripping down your thighs, desperate, clenching around nothing as you push your hips back, trying to take more.

But your brain isn't working anymore, not really. Not when he's talking to you like that, not when you can feel the fat head of his cock nudging at your entrance, dragging back through your slick, over and over again.

"Jay," you gasp, your voice high and wrecked and so fucking needy. "Please, I—fuck, I can't—"

He grins behind you, slow and smug. His hand comes down hard on your ass again, then smooths over the sting with a lazy rub, palm kneading over the soft curve before giving it a squeeze that's just shy of mean.

"You can't what, pretty girl? Think? Breathe? Speak full fuckin' sentences?"

"Jay," you gasp, brain melting the second he grinds the head of his cock against your soaked little hole again. He's right, you can't even form a full sentence, just raw, needy noises spilling out as your fingers curl into the couch. "Please—please, fuck, I need it—I need you—"

He groans at the sound of your voice, all soft and shaky, fucked out already when he hasn't even given it to you yet.

"Yeah?" he mutters, rubbing slow, lazy circles around your entrance with his cock, just barely dipping in, never deep enough to satisfy, just enough to tease. "What do you need, baby? Gotta use your words."

You whimper, dropping your head down, back arching as you try to fuck yourself back onto him. "Need you inside," you cry out. "Need you to fill me up—please, I can't—need it so bad, Jay, please..."

"Goddamn," he mutters, watching you shiver under him. His hand grabs your hip tight, holding you still, making sure you can't get it until he gives it. "You're so fuckin' cute when you beg. My pretty desperate girl."

You're trembling, mouth open, eyes stinging with how badly you need it. He's still teasing, still giving you just the tip, still watching you fall apart like it's his fucking job. And it kind of is.

"Jay—" your voice cracks, ruined and raw, your whole body shaking with pure fucking frustration. "Just fuck me already."

He freezes, then laughs, one of those full body chuckles. "Oh, now you've got a mouth, huh?" he teases, cock twitching at your entrance. "So fuckin' needy you forgot your manners."

But he gives in, finally, because you're soaked and shaking and clenching around nothing, and he can't take it either. Jason grunts, grabs both your hips, and in one slow, deep stroke, he sinks in, splitting you wide, bottoming out until his thighs press flush against yours.

"Fuck," he groans, voice wrecked as he grinds in deep, letting you feel every thick, pulsing inch. He leans over you, one hand curling around your neck, the other slipping under you to toy with your soaked clit. "That's it, baby, takin' me so fuckin' good. Lemme hear you."

And when you cry out, back arching as he starts to move, dragging almost all the way out before slamming back in, his voice turns soft, almost sweet.

"There you go," he purrs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, thrusting deep, hitting that spot that always makes your legs shake. "That's my good girl."

Then he bites down—hard—right where your neck meets your shoulder, making your breath hitch and your pussy clamp down around him. The sting of it sends sparks across your skin, but before you can whimper, he licks the spot tenderly, his tongue wet and warm as he soothes it.

He doesn't stop moving. His hips roll into you in deep, wet thrusts, his cock sliding in and out with ease, coated in your slick, every inch of him drenched and glistening. You can hear it, that messy slap of wet skin on skin every time he fucks you harder, chasing the little fluttering squeeze of your cunt around him. He's soaked already, every thrust a wet, obscene slide that leaves your skin sticky and your body buzzing.

Jason can feel your body responding to everything—every twitch, every clench, the way your hips push back like you're chasing more even when he's giving you everything. He knows your pussy better than anyone, knows just how to angle his hips to make you sob, and it's got his head spinning.

You're so soft, warm, and so fucking tight, and the way you squeeze around him every time he hits that spot has him gritting his teeth, sweat prickling at his temples. His fingers rub tight circles over your clit, relentless and greedy, matching the pace of his thrusts, just rough enough to make your thighs start trembling beneath him.

He watches you fall apart and thinks it's the prettiest sight he's ever seen. Your flushed back, your open mouth, the way your hips keep pushing back to meet every thrust even when you're already shaking.

And underneath it all, one thought claws through his brain on repeat: mine. His thrusts get rougher, hips slapping against your ass with filthy, wet smacks. You can't even brace yourself properly, so your fingers claw helplessly at the couch cushions, trying to hold on while he fucks you through the next wave of pleasure building low and tight in your belly.

Jason leans in close, chest heavy on your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "That's it, baby, just like that."

Your legs shake, your whole body is humming, every nerve ending lit up like he's fucking you raw with nothing but praise and dick. He knows exactly how to wreck you, how to draw it out, how to keep you right on that edge.

You sob against the cushions, voice muffled, brain barely able to string thoughts together. It's too much but it's not enough at the same time. You need more, need him, need all of him.

He bites your shoulder again, then licks over it, soothing the sting, voice warm and ragged against your skin.

"Takin' it so fuckin' good for me, doll. You're perfect like this, y'know that? Lettin' me fuck this tight little pussy, lettin' me fill you up."

Your moan breaks in your throat, choked and high pitched, your body jolting with every hard thrust. His hand is still on your clit, rubbing fast, tight circles that make your thighs shake. You can't even think, you're just trying to stay upright while Jason pounds you into the couch.

"Look at you," he mutters, breath hot against your ear, "clutchin' the fuckin' pillows like they're gonna save you. So fuckin' messy for me."

You're so fucking close, and you know exactly why. Because sucking his cock gets you soaked every time, and you're still worked up from earlier, from how deep he fucked your throat, from the way he moaned for you while you gagged on him. And now he's splitting you open, stuffing you full of the same dick you were drooling over a few minutes ago.

Every stroke makes your pussy clench tighter around him, needy and hot and soaking him all over again. His dick is drenched, sliding in and out of you so easy, wet and loud and filthy, stretching you open until you're gasping with every thrust, stuffed full of every inch.

"Fuck, baby," he groans when you clench around him, "you feel that? You hear that shit? You're so fuckin' wet for me I can't even think straight."

Your pussy flutters around him at the praise, and he grunts, deep and desperate, his hips stuttering just slightly when he feels it. Christ, he loves how you always melt when he talks to you like this.

"Shit—squeezin' me so fuckin' tight. You gonna cum for me like this, huh? Gonna let me feel you lose it?"

You don't even mean to moan like that, but God, it just rips out of your throat, high and desperate and raw when it hits you all at once. Your back arches, mouth falling open, gasping around broken little sobs as your orgasm crashes through you.

Your clit throbs hard under his touch, and your thighs tremble like they might give out. You're soaked, dripping around his cock, creamy slick coating his shaft every time he fucks back in. It's messy. So fucking messy. You can feel it on your skin, on your thighs, between them, wet and warm and filthy, just how he likes it.

"That's it, baby," Jason groans, still right at your ear, his voice gone hoarse, "that's my girl. Fuckin' look at you."

He groans again when your pussy clamps down around him, pulsing with each wave of release. He feels every flutter, every slick, tight squeeze, and it drags another low, wrecked sound from his throat.

"Goddamn, you're so fuckin' tight when you cum."

You're barely breathing, still twitching under him, and that's when he finally lets go, hand slipping from your clit, the other loosening from around your neck. You collapse against the couch cushions, boneless and wrecked, lips parted around soft whimpers.

Jason pulls back a little, straightening up behind you so he can watch—hands gripping your hips, thumbs digging into your skin as he fucks into you slow, deep, wet. His eyes are locked on the way your pussy stretches around his dick, swollen and soaked.

"Fuck," he mutters, " I could watch this pussy fuckin' swallow me for hours."

He gives your ass a hard slap, watches the way it jiggles, then spreads you wider just to see it better: his glistening cock sliding in and out of your fluttering hole, dripping with slick and still twitching from how hard you came.

"You feel that? Still fuckin' twitchin' around my dick. You're not done, doll, are you?"

You moan again—loud, needy—your voice cracking as you look over your shoulder at him, lips slick with drool, eyes glassy and blown wide. You're still trembling from your orgasm, still dripping around his cock, and yet you're pushing back into him.

You fuck yourself on him clumsy, desperate, your thighs shaking with the effort, the angle messy, sloppy, obscene. The way your ass bounces back against his hips with each weak, greedy thrust is downright pathetic.

"Jay..." you whimper, breath hitching, "More. Please. Need your cum, baby."

Jason lets out the filthiest moan you've heard tonight, low and guttural and fucking wrecked. His hands tighten on your hips as your pussy flutters around him on purpose, squeezing him with every word, every plea, and he feels it.

"Yeah?" he pants, "you want it that bad, pretty girl?"

You nod frantically, bottom lip trembling, moaning as more drool slips down your chin.

He breathes out a broken, "Jesus fuckin' Christ," right before one hand slams flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down hard into the couch cushions.

Your cheek presses into the fabric, the friction grounding you even as your thoughts spiral. Then he starts to move, fucking into you deep and fast, no more teasing. Every thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, the rhythm so unforgiving that you can't do anything but take it. His cock drives into you again and again, stretching you wide, splitting you open, dragging slick noises out of your body that make him groan every damn time.

He watches it all, can't even look away—the way your cunt stretches for him, how soaked you are, how your folds cling to every inch when he pulls back. You're gripping him so tight, and he feels every flutter, every greedy little squeeze when your pussy is trying to drag him right back in.

And fuck if he doesn't give it what it wants, rolling his hips slow, deep, just to see the way your wetness sticks to his cock when he slides out, messy and obscene. Every sound, every little tremble of your thighs, just pushes him closer to the edge, makes him slam back in harder, deeper.

"Fuck," he mutters, jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his chest as he keeps pounding into your soaked, twitching hole. "You hear that shit? Hear how wet you are for me, baby?"

You're moaning nonstop, mouth slack, drooling on the cushion beneath you as your eyes roll back, voice going higher and more broken with every thrust. His cock feels so deep, so thick and hot and heavy inside you, and your pussy is fluttering again, slick gushing around him, your body already trying to give him another orgasm.

And Jason can feel every spasm, every wet pull of your pussy as you squeeze him tighter. His grip on your back tightens, holding you down, keeping you right where he wants you.

"You want my cum? Huh, doll? Gonna fill this pretty pussy up, make it drip outta you just so I can push it back in with my dick. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You let out the filthiest sound yet, sobbing through your moans, nodding, choking on a little gasp when his dick hits that spot that makes your toes curl. Jason groans again, sharp and strained, wrecked by how good you feel around him—hot, soaked, clenching, and he knows he's close.

He can't take it anymore, not when you're dripping around his dick and begging for his cum like that, so fucked out and sweet and needy he can barely think.

He slides a hand up your back, rough palm dragging along your spine until it curls around the back of your neck. Not tight, not mean, just firm, because he needs to feel you, keep you close, keep you his. He tugs you back gently but without room to resist, until your spine is arched against him, until your ass is flush to his hips and your back is pressed to his sweat slicked chest.

"C'mere, baby," he pants against your ear.

His other arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place, and then he's using his free hand to finger your clit again, fast and messy, rubbing tight little circles over that swollen bundle of nerves, making you jolt with every pass of his fingers. He doesn't stop fucking you, not even a little. His hips keep snapping up into you, hard and fast and so deep, fucking you through every shake and sob that escapes your parted lips.

You gasp, head falling back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering open just enough to look up at him, and he looks fucking wrecked.

Dark hair a mess, jaw clenched, cheeks flushed, sweat glistening on his neck, his eyes burning before he kisses you. Sloppy. Wet. Filthy. His lips crush against yours, tongue sliding in deep, moaning into your mouth like he needs the taste of you to survive. The kiss is all teeth and spit and desperate little gasps between breaths, your mouth falling open for him over and over again as he fucks you harder, deeper, chasing the way your walls pulse around his cock.

You can't even kiss him properly. You're so wrecked, all you can do is moan into him, lips twitching and trembling, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as your clit throbs under his fingers.

Jason groans into your mouth, biting your lower lip, sucking it between his teeth for a second before licking over the sting like he can't stand to be gentle, can't stand not to devour you. But you don't want him to.

And the whole time, he doesn't slow down. His cock is soaked, sliding in and out of your tight, dripping pussy like it's his fucking job. Each thrust gets filthier, wetter, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room, your slick making obscene noises with every move.

"Fuck," he pants against your lips, hips grinding up into you with a sharp snap, "You're gonna make me lose it, baby. You feel that?"

You whimper, arching into him, legs trembling, so close to breaking again, so close you can barely speak. Your whole body is trembling, legs shaking, fingers gripping his arms while Jason keeps fucking into you from behind, every inch of his cock dragging through your soaked, fluttering walls. You're making the sweetest little wrecked sounds under your breath, lips swollen and spit slick from that last kiss, eyes glassy with need.

"G-God, Jay—"

It comes out in a gasp, all breath and slur, barely coherent. "Y-you—fuck—you feel so good..."

He groans, lips brushing your temple as he keeps moving inside you, hips slamming up fast and needy.

"Yeah, doll?" he pants, voice wrecked, shaky from how tight and hot you are around him. "You're fuckin' meltin' around my dick, huh?"

You nod like your brain is not even wired right anymore. "Y-yeah... fuck, yes, yes—please, fill me up, Jay, please, I need it, need your cum, baby, please—"

Jason grits his teeth with a sharp hiss, dick throbbing deep inside you at the sound of your voice, all broken and begging and gone. His messy, needy girl, so dick drunk she can't even think straight. That high little whimper in your throat when he grinds in just right, when he presses his fingers harder over your clit, making your pussy spasm around him? He fucking lives for it.

"Shit," he breathes, hand still moving over your clit in tight circles, his hips slapping against your ass. "Fucking love when you sound like that, baby. You hear yourself? Can't even talk, huh? So fucked out, so pretty like this. Mine."

You're babbling, hips twitching, tears prickling in your eyes, your moans pitchy and wrecked as he hammers into you. His rhythm is getting sloppy, the pace stuttering, every thrust a little deeper, a little rougher, desperate.

And then, your orgasm hits like a wave. Your clit throbs under his fingers, your pussy clenches around his cock and you cry out loud, sobbing his name as your walls spasm and flutter, so wet and tight and pulsing around him that he nearly loses it right there.

"F-fuck—"

Jason's whole body jolts, hips jerking as he buries himself deep to the hilt, one last shaky thrust before he lets go. He cums hard, cock twitching, thick ropes of hot cum spilling deep inside your cunt, filling you up until you can feel the heat of it dripping down your thighs. His fingers dig into your skin, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, breath ragged against your skin.

"Jesus—fuckin' hell, baby," he gasps, still twitching faintly inside you.

Your thighs are shaking, your breath is stuck in your throat. Your mind is completely blank except for the feel of his cum dripping out of you and the way he's keeping you pressed against him.

His breath is hot against your shoulder when he finally moves again, mouth brushing lazy kisses along your damp skin. He's still buried deep inside you, cock thick and twitching, your cunt swollen and soaked from how hard he just fucked you.

His arms wrap around your waist, keeping you snug against him. "Good, pretty girl?" he mumbles against your skin, voice warm and all fucked out.

You nod, your body still trembling a little as you sink back against him. "Mhmm," you manage. "So good."

Your hips shift instinctively, a tiny grind back against his dick and fuck, he gasps. You both feel how sensitive he is, how your sore, fluttering pussy tightens just a little around him, slick and warm and still dripping with both your cum.

"More, baby," you whine breathlessly.

"Jesus," he hisses, teeth catching your skin as his fingers grip your waist tighter. "Don't fuckin' do that, doll. Gonna make me lose it."

But you can't help it. Your body is greedy for him, always has been. Even now, with your thighs trembling and your cunt already stretched wide, full, aching, you want more. You always want more with Jason because it's never just the size of him or the way his dick hits so deep you see stars.

No, it's the way he touches you like you matter, the way he learned every part of you. The way he's been obsessed with your pleasure since the very first time he had you moaning under him, soaked and begging.

You grind again, just a little. Another tiny roll of your hips, needing the drag of his cock against your raw, oversensitive walls and he groans, low and guttural, like you're torturing him. You are.

His dick twitches again inside you, still hard, still so thick and perfect, nestled deep in your wet, clenching heat. You're throbbing around him, your slick walls fluttering with every breath, hugging his cock perfectly. Even after all this time together, even after countless nights of being fucked dumb by this man, there's just something about him—his hands, his mouth, his voice, the way he praises you, how he looks at you like he's still stupidly in love. And he is. That's why Jason never stops making you feel wanted, safe, loved, never stops making you feel good.

And right now? Your body wants more. You gasp when you bend forward again, both hands bracing against the couch cushions, your body practically melting back into position. Jason's still buried inside you, hot and thick and so deep, and even that small shift has your pussy clenching hard around him, slick and sensitive. He groans behind you, his head tipping back for just a second like he's trying to breathe before his eyes drag down your back to your ass, spread wide, twitching a little, glistening. And he can't stop looking at it.

You're leaking, dripping around his cock, messy and swollen and so pretty he wants to sink to his knees just to watch. His hands tighten on your waist, and then one drags down, fingers gathering a smear of his cum from where it's pooled at the base of his dick. He knows what he's doing before he even lets himself think about it.

"God, baby," he breathes, voice all heat, "look at you."

And then he slides that slick finger up between your cheeks, slow, dragging it over that tight little hole, and the noise you make? That sweet, sudden moan from deep in your chest? God, he nearly fucking loses it. You tense instantly, pussy clamping around his dick, and he groans.

"Shit," he mutters, voice rough and breathless. "You like that, baby?"

You whimper, high and needy, and push back against him, just like you did earlier, ass pressing into his hips with this desperate little roll. "Y-Yeah..."

He doesn't think, just moves. One slow push of his finger, just the tip, just enough to feel that tight resistance give under him. And fuck, the way your whole body shudders, how you arch for him, legs trembling, he watches the reaction ripple down your spine and groans.

"Yeah, doll?" he asks again, softer, coaxing, even though his cock is throbbing inside you, twitching at how soaked and warm you still are. "That feel good?"

You nod, whining, voice fucked out and breathless as you try to rock your hips again, his cock dragging against your still pulsing walls, his finger teasing in just a little deeper. You look fucking wrecked, needy and messy and glowing under the low light, your body begging for more like you can't even help it.

And Jason? He's about to lose his shit. He knows he's thought about this. Late at night, in the shower, on those long patrols where he can't stop remembering the way your ass looks when you're bouncing on top of him while you're taking his dick.

He's thought about it so many times—just touching, just teasing, just wanting to see how you'd react—but he's never done it. Never dared. Because the last thing he'd ever want is to push you too far, make you feel like you owed him anything, make you uncomfortable. That's never what this is about.

But the way you're moaning? The way your body shivers when he slides his finger in a little deeper and starts gently moving it in and out, just barely? Christ. You're soaking him again, your pussy fluttering and greedy, trying to pull him in deeper, walls so warm and wet and perfect.

He pulls his cock out almost all the way, just to watch, just to see how you clench, how his cum leaks out of you in slow drips. And then he pushes back in, slow and deep, both of you moaning, because he slides in so easily, snug and slick and tight all at once.

Jason doesn't even get the chance to move—doesn't get a chance to pull his hips back, set a pace, nothing—because the second he's buried inside you again, you start fucking yourself back on his cock like you've lost your goddamn mind.

You gasp, hips rolling, clumsy and desperate, grinding down until you're taking every thick inch of him with this slick, messy slide that makes your body tremble. His cock stretches you open, dragging over every spot inside you that makes your legs shake and fuck, it feels so good you don't even care how wrecked you sound.

And then there's his finger. You'd never thought you'd be into this. Not with the way your exes treated you, like your body was some puzzle they couldn't be bothered to figure out, all selfish hands and no patience, making you feel like it was your fault when it didn't feel good. They'd never cared. Never tried. They'd barely been able to fuck you right, much less... this. But Jason?

Good fucking lord. Jason touches you like he wants you to come apart, like your pleasure is his favorite thing. Like making you feel good is some kind of fucking art form, and he's been studying for it his whole life. The way his finger works into your ass, slow and careful, his hand steady on your hip while you fuck yourself back on his cock? The way he moans every time your pussy tightens up around him?

Yeah, you're never gonna get enough of this man. He groans behind you, rough and wrecked, his thumb pressing into your hip, holding you steady even though you're grinding back on him so desperately it's making his thighs tense.

"Jesus, doll... fuckin'—look at you," he rasps. "So goddamn greedy. You just can't help yourself, huh?"

You moan, loud, pitching forward a little on shaky arms as your walls flutter around his cock—and his finger. And it's filthy, the way your ass clenches down around him every time his finger rocks in, the way your sloppy pussy grips his dick so tight it makes him groan through his teeth.

He swears under his breath, head dropping forward as he watches you bounce back on him. You're so fucking insatiable, and it's driving him fucking insane. The noises you let out? These desperate, whiny, punched out moans every time you push back and grind down? Yeah, the neighbors are definitely complaining tomorrow. Not that it's the first time.

And not that Jason gives a single fuck. Because right now, he's got his perfect girl fucking herself on his dick, soaking him, whining for him, moaning like she wants the whole goddamn building to hear. And all he can do is hold your hip tight, finger your ass slow, and praise you for it.

"Who would've fuckin' thought. My pretty girl, so goddamn desperate to get both these holes stuffed full."

His words make you clench—around his cock, around his finger—and he feels it, the way your pussy flutters and grips him tight.

And fuck, his dick? Soaked. You're creaming all over him, slick making a filthy, messy ring at the base of his cock every time you grind back down, every time you fuck yourself onto him. His skin is slick with it—yours too—and you're both a goddamn mess.

He watches you get sloppy with it, sees how your thighs tremble, how you whine under your breath but you're still so fucking needy. Still chasing it like it's the only thing you want. And it fucking is.

Jason grins as he gives your hip a tight squeeze. "Maybe lemme fuck you, baby," he mutters, "really fuck you."

And he does. One slow pull back, his cock dragging over every swollen, soaked ridge inside you before he sinks in hard, hips smacking against your ass with a sound so sharp it makes your breath hitch.

His free hand holds you tight at the waist, steadying you. The other one is still teasing your ass, finger working slow inside you until Jason shifts his grip, spreads his fingers wider across your hip. His thumb hooks just above the curve of your ass, spreading your cheeks a little more, just enough for him to tilt his head down, let a thick bead of spit drip right between them.

It lands warm on your skin and you shudder, a broken moan punching out of your throat as your pussy clamps down around his dick, squeezing him so hard he swears under his breath.

"Fuck, that's it," Jason groans, snapping his hips forward again, his cock splitting you open on a wet, filthy slide.

And God, the way you take him, slick and swollen, your cunt clenching so tight it drags over every vein on his dick. The sound of skin slapping against skin, thick and obscene, bounces off the walls, the couch creaking under you both.

The sight of his cock sinking into your messy pussy, slick dripping down his balls, that obscene little stretch every time he pushes in? Yeah, that's about to break him.

"Jay—fuck—don't stop, baby, please..."

Your voice cracks every time his hips snap forward and you don't even know if you're making sense anymore. At this point, it's just a string of yes, please, more, fuck tumbling out.

"P-please... feels so g-good..."

Your words come out all stuttery, cracked at the edges, spilling out between breathless little whines every time his cock slams deep, every time his finger works a little further inside your ass.

"Look at you," he pants, voice low and rough, "so fuckin' pretty like this. Can't get enough, huh, baby?"

He can't believe how desperate you are right now—how you're dripping down his cock, pussy fluttering around him—and all it took was his spit slicked finger easing deeper in your ass while he fucks your cunt open, dragging his cock over every spot that makes you whimper.

You're a goddamn mess. Sweaty, clenching, rocking back into him like it's all you know how to do. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you back to meet every hard, punishing thrust.

And fuck, seeing you like this? Head tipped forward, moaning for him, mouth hanging open as you babble out wrecked little pleas between gasps? He's fucking losing it and fast.

"Goddamn, baby," he breathes, hips snapping forward hard enough your whole body jolts, "fuckin' takin' it like my good girl... so fuckin' perfect for me."

He means it. Means every word because even after all this time, even after all the ways he's had you, the way you fall apart for him like this, the way your pussy grips his dick so tight, soaked and swollen and perfect, you're his. All his.

"Y-Yes—right there, fuck—"

Your voice breaks on a moan, high and sharp, and then you fall apart. It hits you fast and mean, your whole body tensing before it shudders, legs shaking under you as your pussy clamps down around Jason's dick, hot and pulsing and so fucking wet. Your walls flutter, squeezing him in desperate, spasming little aftershocks, slick gushing around him with every twitch of your hips.

And your ass? Fuck, your ass clenches around his finger, tight and perfect, your whole body so wound up you're gripping him everywhere. Jason moans, rocking his hips in slow, deep thrusts just to feel your puffy walls milking his dick desperately.

And shit, the way you're shaking, gasping, whining his name like you need him even after cumming that hard? Jason's right on the edge. Because fuck if it doesn't tear him open every single time, seeing you fall apart for him like this, knowing it's his dick, his hands, his praise wrecking you.

His stomach tightens, hips grinding in deep as his own orgasm builds hot and thick in his gut. "Fuck—"

It rips out of him right before his hips jerk forward, burying his cock deep inside you. You feel the hard throb of his dick as it twitches deep in your cunt and then hot, thick spurts of cum flood your spent little hole, warm and sticky and so much.

You gasp, a whiny little "God, yes—" tumbling past your lips as your walls clench down around him, sucking every drop.

His whole body tightens with every slow, dragging spurt of cum—your pussy fluttering around him, sucking him in deep—and you keep moving, pushing back in tiny, shaky little rolls of your hips, fucking him sloppily through it, milking him for everything he's got.

"Jesus—" he hisses between his teeth, hips giving a few messy, uneven thrusts before he finally empties the last thick pulse inside you.

And when he eases his finger out of your ass, slow and careful, you shudder all over, whimpering.

"Shhh, doll," Jason murmurs, leaning over your back, his mouth finding your sweaty skin in soft, soothing kisses. "It's okay. Breathe for me, yeah?"

You nod, cheek squished against the couch cushions because Christ, you can barely hold yourself up—body limp, legs trembling, everything hot and heavy and soaked. And he stays there with you, wrapping his arms around your middle, his lips brushing over your shoulder, your spine, anywhere he can reach, soft kisses pressed into every inch of damp skin while his palm rubs your side.

"Good girl," he whispers, voice soft against your skin.

You whimper, soft and breathy when his dick twitches inside you, your body giving a little involuntary shudder and Jason hums, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before he slowly pulls out.

You moan at the feeling, wrecked and overstimulated, your pussy fluttering around nothing and Jason lets out a soft, breathless chuckle behind you.

"Don't do that, doll," he murmurs, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. "Or I might fuck you again."

"Don't even joke right now," you mumble, your voice hoarse and so, so wrecked.

He huffs a soft laugh and then flops down on the couch beside you, big arms reaching for you, easing you into his side with a gentleness that makes your heart clench. He tugs you right against him, hooking one of your shaky legs over his hip, his palm splaying warm and steady over your thigh.

You bury your face against his chest, nuzzling into the warm skin there as you try to shift your leg off him, murmuring, "Jay, I'm dripping..."

And you are. You can feel it. His cum, thick and warm, leaking slow from your sore, fucked out pussy, sticky between your thighs.

Jason snorts, "Yeah, well, I don't give a fuck, baby. We'll wash up."

His hand slides up your back, rubbing soft, slow circles between your shoulder blades. "Just relax for me."

You do. Little by little, your body melts against his as he keeps holding you close, kissing your damp hair, your cheek, the soft skin of your temple, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes over your spine while your heart finally starts to slow.

You can't help the way your thoughts spin, soft and hazy, floating on that warm, fucked out high. Because God, this side of Jason? The soft, tender, sweet aftercare, the way he holds you? You love it so fucking much.

You hadn't expected this when you first got together. Like, you'd figured he'd be good in bed just from the way he'd kiss you—obviously—figured he'd wreck you six ways from Sunday. But this? The way he takes care of you after? The kisses, the soft touches, the whispered praises while he helps you come back down? You didn't think he'd have it in him. But fuck, does he ever.

You're still shivering. A little from the way he fucked you open, your body wrecked and overstimulated, and a little from the chill hanging in the air now that the sweat is cooling on your skin but Jason clocks it instantly.

He doesn't even give you a chance to blink before he's shifting under you, one strong arm wrapping around your waist as he hauls you right on top of him, chest to chest, your legs falling limp around his sides.

"Jay—" you squeak, breath catching in your throat, giggling when your weight settles on him.

You're basically a rag doll at this point, and even if you wanted to fight him on it... yeah, that's not happening.

You manage a weak little swat at his chest, your palm making a soft thud against his damp skin. "God, you're impossible."

But you don't move. Fuck, you melt against him, burying your face right into the warm crook of his neck because well... it's Jason. Human furnace. Walking radiator. His arms are snug around you, broad chest rising and falling beneath yours, heart beating steady like a drum.

Your pussy is still dripping, a slow, sticky slide between your thighs, but you don't care, and he sure as hell doesn't either.

Jason huffs a soft breath, his arms tightening just a little, his hand splayed across your spine. "I love you so fuckin' much, pretty girl," he mumbles against your temple. "You're fuckin' perfect, you know that?"

You hum against his skin, brushing your nose along the line of his neck before tilting your head up just enough to catch his eyes and a soft, cheeky smile tugs at your lips. "You literally said I'm a pain in your ass this morning."

Jason snorts. Real, genuine. His chest shakes with it as his hand glides up your back. "Nah, I was just teasing, baby."

He ducks his head a little, lips pressing against your forehead. "You're perfect."

And the way he looks at you—eyes soft and open, the faintest curve of a smile on his lips—God, it's like you hung the fucking stars in his sky.

You can't help it. The giggle bubbles right up out of you. And Jason's heart? Shit, it fucking stumbles because this? This is everything to him. You, soft and smiling in his arms after he's spent himself inside you, still trembling a little but safe, his. He can't get over it. Can't get over you.

The way you trust him with your body, your heart, the way you laugh like that? He's so gone for you it's not even funny. You shift against him, a lazy little scoot that drags your slick skin over his, until you're close enough to reach his lips. And without even thinking, you lean in, pressing soft, sleepy kisses right over that stupidly pretty mouth of his. Just a soft brush at first, barely there.

Jason blinks down at you, eyebrows lifting, mouth twitching at the corners, trying so hard to look unimpressed. That lazy, cocky drawl slips out, rough around the edges.

"Fucked you that good, huh?"

You nod, lips still ghosting over his, and your soft little giggle is muffled against his mouth. You don't even try to deny it—why would you? You know what you sound like. Wrecked, floaty, breathless.

He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You little shit."

But his hand comes up, big and warm at the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair and when he pulls you back down, his mouth meets yours in a kiss that's nothing like the teasing.

It's deep. Hot. His lips move slow, but there's nothing soft about it, nothing casual about the way his tongue brushes against yours, slick and hungry, dragging a quiet moan from your throat before he swallows it down His tongue brushes against yours, a smooth, wet glide that makes you shudder all over again and your pussy, traitorous as ever, throbs.

God. You can feel it—your walls clenching around nothing, raw and slick, a slow, aching pulse right between your legs. You don't even care how sloppy it gets. The wet glide of your lips, the little sounds of your mouths working together, his soft groans when you suck on his tongue, your needy whimpers when he tilts his head and deepens it until you can't even tell where your breath ends and his begins.

You kiss like that for minutes. Long, drawn out, open mouthed kisses that leave you dizzy and boneless in his arms, your legs limp around his waist, your hips squirming without meaning to when his other hand slides down—grips your ass, big palm squeezing hard enough to make you whimper.

Your sweaty skin sticks where you press together, slick thighs half spread over his hips, your chest pressed against his warm, steady heartbeat. You finally break the kiss with a little gasp, your lips tingling, both of you breathing hard like you'd just run a mile instead of making out like horny teenagers on your couch.

You barely manage a soft, breathless, "Love you, Jay."

Jason doesn't even hesitate. He leans in, presses the lightest kiss to the tip of your nose—so fucking soft, like you aren't both a sweaty, fucked out mess on the couch—and murmurs, "Love you too, doll."

You smush your cheek right against his, nuzzling in like some sleepy cat while your arms drape lazily around his shoulders.

"Ready to go clean up?" he asks, voice low, lips brushing your temple.

You let out a pitiful little whine. "Nooo..." you stretch the word out, all soft and pouty, barely moving. "I'm tired..."

Jason lets out a quiet snort. "I'll carry you."

You nuzzle deeper into the curve of his neck like a stubborn little gremlin, mumbling, "Nooo..."

He huffs and smacks your ass with a firm slap that makes you squeak. "We're sticky as fuck, baby."

You pout against his skin, voice all sleepy and dramatic. "Don't care."

Jason scoffs. "Yeah, you absolutely do, pretty girl."

His hand slides up your spine, rubbing slow, soothing circles like that'll make you move somehow.

You let out a soft little huff, your lips still pressed against his jaw, and mumble, "Maybe..."

He shakes his head, biting back a grin. "Alright. Five more minutes, then I'm scoopin' your cute ass up and haulin' you straight into the shower. Yeah?"

You hum against him, all soft and small. "Yeah, okay."

He sits there, holding you close while your body melts against his—bare skin sticky with sweat and cum, hair damp, your soft little breaths warming his throat—and he feels it again. That quiet, bone deep thud in his chest because sometimes? He still can't believe it.

Can't believe you're this soft with him. This clingy and sweet and trusting, curling up in his arms and rubbing your cheek against his. And he never thought he'd have this, never thought he'd let himself want it, really. This messy, domestic, heart aching more he'd always told himself wasn't in the cards for a guy like him. But here he is.

Jason Todd. Sitting on a pink ass couch he didn't pick with the prettiest girl he's ever known sprawled on top of him like some warm, sleepy kitten while he rubs your back and breathes you in and feels his chest go all soft and stupid over how fucking much he loves you.

And maybe that shouldn't surprise him after everything. After all the shit he's been through—dying, for fuck's sake, coming back and crawling his way through hell and heartbreak and fights he never really won. After walking away from Bruce, from everything he thought he was supposed to be.

He really figured he'd be on his own for a good while. Not forever, but long enough that this? A girl who loves him like you do? Who calls him Jay, kisses the tip of his nose like he's worth something, falls asleep half draped over him since the first night you spent together? Yeah, he never fucking thought he'd have that.

Not until you came along—soft, stubborn, sweet as hell—and wrecked every single wall he built without even trying. Your stomach picks that moment to let out the loudest, most pathetic growl and Jason huffs a laugh right against your temple.

"Okay," he snorts, pressing a kiss there, "I think that's our cue for cleanin' up, baby."

But you just let out a soft, miserable whine and mumble, "But 'm comfy..." all pitiful, nose still nuzzled into his neck like you've got no bones left in your body.

He chuckles under his breath. "Don't be a brat," he says all fond even as his hand comes down in a playful smack against your ass that makes you squeak.

And before you can protest any more, he's already shifting under you, dragging both of you upright on the couch.

You cling, of course. Arms around his neck, legs around his waist, your soaked pussy pressed right up against his abs as you bury your face against his shoulder with a sleepy little groan. And God, Jason swears under his breath because you're still fucking dripping on him, but does he care? Not even a little.

If anything, his big hands cup your ass even tighter as he stands, hauling you up with him, carrying you around while you're leaking cum down his stomach.

"Jesus, doll," he murmurs with a crooked grin as you hang onto him like a sleepy, clingy little monkey, "you're real committed to this whole limp noodle thing, huh?"

You hum against his neck, arms tightening around him and he huffs, heading straight for the bathroom with you wrapped around him, flipping the light on with his elbow, maneuvering around like he's done it a hundred times before.

When he finally tries to set you down so he can reach for the shower, you just whimper and cling tighter, legs squeezing around his waist.

Jason groans, amused. "You gonna make me wrestle you off, doll?"

Your answer? A sleepy little shake of your head as you smush your face against his neck again.

He lets out a low hum as he waits for the water to warm, shifting just enough to bury his face in your hair, arms full of you, one hand firm under your ass, holding you steady against him. And yeah, maybe he could be a little shit right now. Maybe he should be teasing you for clinging to him, but instead, his other hand just rubs slow circles up and down your back.

Because no matter how much Jason likes to act like he's all gruff and mean, you've got him so fucking soft for you it's honestly embarrassing. You sigh against his neck, nuzzling in, and he just holds you closer.

After a minute, when the steam starts slowly curling up around both of you, Jason reaches out with his free hand and checks the water with his knuckles. Warm enough.

"C'mon, pretty girl," he murmurs, giving your ass a gentle squeeze.

"Okay," you mumble softly.

He sets you down carefully in the shower, hands lingering on your waist as you wobble a little on unsteady legs before stepping in right behind you, arms slipping around you again.

"You okay, baby?" he murmurs against your temple.

"Yeah," you hum, leaning back into him, letting him hold you up.

"How's your throat?"

Your shoulders lift in a tiny shrug. You're still a little floaty—warm, wrung out, and sore in all the right places—and you're honestly not even sure how your throat feels right now, but you have to admit that it's kind of sore. And he knows it.

"I'm gonna make you some tea after this, yeah?" he says as his hands smooth over your stomach, big palms rubbing gentle circles over your skin.

You nod sleepily.

"Good girl," he praises under his breath, letting one hand linger on your belly while the other reaches for the body wash, keeping you tucked against him as you stand there, still a little shaky on your feet.

Jason works slow, steady, hands smoothing over your skin with that quiet, unhurried care that always makes your chest ache a little. He starts with your shoulders, massaging soft circles into your skin as he works the body wash into a light lather. Every so often, he dips his head and presses a sweet, warm kiss to your shoulder blade, your nape, the side of your neck, little soft touches that have your eyes fluttering shut, your muscles going loose under his hands.

"You're so fuckin' good for me," he murmurs, that low voice that's meant just for you.

You make a tiny sound, swaying a little on your feet again and Jason can't help the soft chuckle that rumbles low in his chest when your stomach lets out another grumble.

You squint over your shoulder at him, trying for a glare but ruining it with a wide, sleepy yawn.

He smirks, all soft teasing. "You tryin' to tell me somethin', pretty girl?"

"Shut up," you mumble, leaning back into his chest anyway.

And God, he fucking loves this. He keeps his hands gentle, working over your arms, down your sides, rinsing you off slow. Then he reaches for the shampoo, getting a little in his palm before carefully working it through your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp with this ridiculous, feather light touch that has your knees damn near buckling.

And it hits you again like it always fucking does. For a guy built like a walking brick wall, with hands big enough to snap a man in half, Jason's hands are always so fucking gentle with you. And maybe you should be used to it by now, but you're not, and neither is he.

Because while he washes you, Jason is watching every little twitch of your body against his, every soft sigh you let out, every sleepy little sway and all he can think is fuck.

This life you've built together? The late mornings, the soft kisses, the dumb arguments over who burned the damn toast, the fucking and the sweet aftercare and the way you crawl into his lap like you belong there? He wouldn't trade a goddamn second of it.

You cling to him like you always do—arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest while the warm water rinses the last of the soap suds off both your bodies. You press lazy kisses to his skin, right over his heart, and Jason huffs a soft laugh, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

"Real fuckin' clingy today, huh?" he teases, but he kisses the top of your head anyway.

You hum, nosing at his chest. "Mmhmm."

When the water finally cools, he reaches around you to shut it off, steps out first, grabbing a thick towel off the rack before holding it open. You blink at him, all soft and sleepy, and he smiles.

"C'mere, pretty girl."

You shuffle forward, and the second your feet hit the mat, he's wrapping you up tight, tucking you in like a warm little burrito. Then he grabs another towel, slinging it low around his waist before taking your hand.

You toddle after him, your damp feet making soft sounds against the floor as he leads you back into the bedroom. The big towel swamps your frame, your brows pinched in sleepy little furrows and your lips stuck in a soft pout, and Jason has to bite back a laugh.

God, you look so fucking cute like this. He gives your hand a little squeeze before letting go, walking over to the closet. You plop down on the edge of the bed with a soft huff, the towel still bundled around you while you watch him pull out a pair of panties, some fluffy socks, and one of his old t-shirts, the faded black one you always steal.

He tugs on a pair of boxers, glancing back at you when he turns around just in time to see you sitting there like the sleepiest little thing alive, bundled and pouting, blinking slow like a worn out kitten and his chest fucking squeezes.

He crosses the room, drops down to his knees in front of you, and presses a soft kiss to your knees before he starts unwrapping the towel.

"Stop lookin' at me like that," he mutters, all fake gruff. "You're gonna kill me, doll."

You giggle, kicking your legs a little as he dries you off gently, moving slow like you'll break if he's too rough. Once you're dry, he slips the socks on your feet, smoothing his hands up your calves before standing up again.

"Arms up, baby."

You lift them—barely—and he snorts, tugging the oversized shirt down over your head, letting it fall soft and cozy over your body before helping you into the panties.

"Perfect," he says, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Come on, let's feed your gremlin ass."

You trail after him to the kitchen, shuffling your feet, wearing his damn t-shirt like it's armor. And of course, the second you get there, he spins, grabs your hips, and hauls you right up onto the counter.

"Jesus, Jason!" you squeak, grabbing at his shoulders. "Why are you like this?"

He quirks a brow, all smug as he steps in between your legs, hands sliding slow over your bare thighs. "Like what?"

You huff, giving him the best scowl you can muster right now. "Stupid."

His grin pulls wide, and it's pure trouble. "That so?"

And before you can open your mouth to fire back, his hand tips your chin up, his thumb brushing soft over your jaw as he leans in slow, mouth ghosting over yours, just barely there until you let out a tiny, involuntary gasp. That's all it takes.

His mouth slants over yours, hot and hungry. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming, licking into you like he's got every right and you don't even fucking fight it. You melt, arms sliding up around his shoulders, fingers curling into his hair as he kisses you deep and filthy, mouths moving messy against each other, your soft little moans swallowed right up.

You don't even realize how close your bodies are until you feel it. That slow, lazy grind of his hips, his dick getting hard again. You whimper, your thighs squeezing instinctively around his waist when the swollen head of his dick presses against your sore, aching pussy. The fabric drags right over your clit and you whine, trying not to melt on the counter even though you're wrung out and boneless.

"Jay—" you pant, breaking the kiss, your forehead resting against his.

"What?" he says all innocent, eyes sparkling like the bastard he is.

"You're such a fucking problem," you breathe, trying to glare but failing because your thighs are twitching and your cheeks are flushed.

You open your mouth—ready to tell him off, ready with something sharp—but you don't even get the chance before he bites the tip of your nose. Gentle, but still enough to make you yelp.

"Jason!"

And he's already pulling back, laughing under his breath as he adjusts his half hard dick through his boxers and strolls toward the fridge like nothing happened.

"Now you're just an asshole," you mutter, rubbing your nose with a pout.

"Yep," he tosses over his shoulder, already pulling out leftovers like he didn't just kiss you stupid and grind against your wrecked pussy.

He moves around the kitchen with way too much efficiency for a man who just fucked the soul out of you not half an hour ago. You watch him with your arms crossed over your chest, still sitting on the counter like the world's poutiest little menace, and every time his eyes flick your way, you hold his gaze, giving him your best scowl, but it only makes him huff a laugh under his breath.

He grabs a wooden board from the cabinet, starts piling on slices of ham and a few hunks of that fancy cheese you like. Not that he'd admit it, but he knows the brand by heart now. Cuts up some apples, tosses on a handful of grapes, throws in some sliced cucumber and those mini peppers you always snack on. He digs out your favorite crackers from the back of the cabinet, the ones he may have called "cardboard ass health crap" the first time you bought them, and he stocks them like it's his personal mission.

While the water heats on the stove, he keeps sneaking glances at you—your pouty little self, sitting there with your legs swinging, bottom lip jutting out, your damp messy hair falling into your eyes like some pissed off kitten.

God, you're a menace sometimes. Always have been. But you're his menace, so he never complains.

He makes your tea, stirs in the honey and a splash of milk the way you like it, sets it aside to cool and without a word, he crosses back to you. You blink when his arms slide under your thighs and around your back, lifting you right off the counter with ease.

"Baby—"

"Uh-uh," he hums, pressing a warm kiss right to your forehead. "Don't even start with me, pretty girl."

You go soft in his arms instantly, arms sneaking around his neck as you nuzzle your face into the side of his throat with a little huff. He carries you straight to the couch, sitting you down carefully before snagging the blanket off the backrest and wrapping it snug around your shoulders.

"Stay put," he murmurs, tapping your nose.

And before you can get all bratty again, he's already headed back to the kitchen, grabbing the plate, your tea, and a can of Coke for himself. Jason comes back with the plate and your tea, settling down beside you. You don't even have to move, he tugs you right up against his side with a little grunt, drapes his arm over your shoulders, and shifts you half into his lap until you're practically blanketed by his big ass body.

"Alright, c'mere," he murmurs, nudging your head to rest on his shoulder. He presses a kiss into your temple, voice dropping low and soft. "C'mon, baby. Drink for me."

You roll your eyes because of course he makes even tea sound like an order, but you lift the mug anyway, sipping slow. The second the warm liquid hits your throat, you melt with a soft, grateful hum.

Jason grins, smug as hell. "Yeah, that's my good girl."

You nudge his side with your elbow, and he chuckles, grabbing a slice of apple from the plate and holding it out for you. You take a bite right from his fingers with a little mhm, chewing happily while he just watches you.

And of course, because he's him, "Y'know," he drawls, casual as can be, "you got real fuckin' loud when I had my finger up your ass earlier."

You nearly choke on your tea. "Jason!"

He snorts, all shameless, watching you sputter as your face goes up in flames. "What? Thought you liked it, baby."

"I did—" you hiss, swatting at his chest with the hand not holding your mug, "—now shut the fuck up and feed me."

He snorts again, all teeth and smug grin, and gives your thigh a little squeeze. "Brat."

But he still grabs a cracker, tops it with some cheese and ham, and holds it up for you and you take it happily, chewing with a satisfied little smile like the spoiled girl you are.

By the time an hour rolls by, the board is picked clean, your tea mug is empty on the coffee table, and you're deadweight against his chest, your soft little breaths puffing against his neck while your arms stay tucked tight around his middle.

Jason glances down at you with a quiet little huff, adjusting the blanket so it's snug around your shoulders. You barely even stir, except to nuzzle closer, one leg hitched over his like you're trying to fuse into him. Christ.

He shifts, grabbing the remote with his free hand and flicking through whatever trash is on this late—some dumbass reality show with more bleeped out words than actual dialogue—but his mind is a million miles away.

He groans under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face as his dick gives a familiar, very inconvenient throb against the soft cotton of his boxers because he can't get the sight of you out of his head—hands gripping the couch like your life depended on it, hips arching back, your voice wrecked and all needy as he fucked you open. The way you'd sobbed his name, begged him not to stop.

He sighs, eyes dropping back down to you.

And you're just... out. Completely gone. Mouth slightly open, already drooling on his chest and somehow, still the cutest fucking thing he's ever seen. His.

Jason scoffs quietly to himself, shaking his head as he sinks a little deeper into the cushions. His dick can wait. He's got you wrapped around him like a sleepy little koala, and he's pretty sure this—you—is his happy place and there's no shot in hell he's moving anytime soon.

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gumified · 1 year ago

Text

WATCHING THRU THE MIRROR !

pairing: suguru x reader, toji x reader, satoru x reader, choso x reader, sukuna x reader (all separate)

summary: jjk men and how much they love to fuck you with a mirror around.

content: 3.1k, smut, mirror kink (duh!), spanking, degradation, praise, dirty talk, overstimulation, breast play, spitting, public sex (it's in a club bathroom), creampie, dumbification, choking

note: this is filthy but i cba to revise for my history exam so here you guys goooo!

SUGURU GETO

"look at you." suguru coos at your figure in the mirror and your body is littered with dark purple bruises. you feel yourself grow wetter at the sight. his hands roam your body and your eyes are glued to the way his cock thrusts in and out of you. the way it disappears into your heat and how it's so big and thick. "do you like seeing me fuck you?"

the sensation has tingles shooting up your spine. your boyfriend's voice is low and husky and it has your pussy clenching around his cock. strands of his dark hair fall into his eyes and he ignores it as he continues to fuck you relentlessly. the mirror in front of you both allows you to see your face and your reactions as he pleasures you.

"love seeing you fall apart on my cock." suguru groans. you’re unable to take your eyes off the sight in front of you, staring at the way you look so unfamiliar and it’s so embarrassing that you turn your head to look away. suguru’s hands grab your chin, forcing you to look back at your messy body. “nu uh, don’t look away now, we’re about to get to the good part.”

you squirm in his grip, staring at your boyfriend's flushed face as a low growl leaves his throat. you whine at the sight. he fills you up and the room's filled with erotic sounds of his balls slapping on your sweaty skin. the tip of his cock hits a spot inside of you that has your body buckling over and you seeing the stars. everything feels so good and you can't help but feel your release approaching.

"s-suguru…" you moan. “ahh! so good, so so good, nghh-”

your stomach tightens and you feel your orgasm wrack through your body, pleasure shooting up your spine. you desperately try to keep your expression straight, not wanting to let suguru know that you had just come. you really should be known better though.

he stops his movements and his eyes harden into a glare. "did you just cum?" you shake your head. "no? really darling? you shouldn't lie to me."

“not lyin’ promise promise, didn’t lie, a-ahh!”

his eyes through the mirror has you shivering and you try to look somewhere else, anywhere else but you can feel him all around you. the truth is practically forced out of you and once it slips past your lips you hear suguru snarl and turn you over onto his lap. he delivers a harsh smack and a red mark begins to bloom. the zing of pain that shoots up within you only has your pussy dripping more.

"such a needy whore, want me to fuck this cunt raw don't you? can't even follow simple instructions, do you need to be taught like a fucking baby?" each audible smack is delivered with more intensity than the last and you whimper at the pain. it spreads through your body and you wince when his hand comes into contact with your supple flesh. you’re moaning and writhing in his grasp. there's a steady rhythm to it and you can't help but stick your ass higher, craving his touch. “you don’t even know how to listen nasty whore.”

you whine at the numbness that fills the lower part of your body. suguru gives your ass a squeeze. you try to contain the moan that threatens to slip past your lips but it comes out and it's startling how pornographic you look in the mirror, your lewd expressions that reflect right back at you. you can feel him smirk as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

"gonna teach you a fucking lesson brat."

TOJI FUSHIGURO

“t-tojiii-'' a scream is ripped from your throat as you brace yourself against the sink. your hands grip the hard surface, clinging desperately as you get pounded from behind. “toji toji toji, hnggh, ‘s too much, please please pleaseee.”

there’s tears edging at the corners of your eyes as you feel your pussy constrict around his cock. he’s fucking you like he’s got a point to prove and his thrusts are relentless as he continues to plough into you. each hit makes you keen with pleasure and you’re forced to look at your lewd reflection in the mirror.

“dirty fuckin’ girl.” toji snarls as his hands lift your chin so you stare directly at yourself. his hands slide down to your throat and you gasp as he squeezes it. you feel the air leave your lungs and your head becomes light. “look at yerself you whore, filthy face, ya only know how to cum around my cock like some desperate slut.”

his insults only fuel your pleasure and you moan as his tip hits your cervix over and over again. his other hand comes to grope your tits and you shriek as he pinches your nipples, twisting them and playing with the sensitive nubs between his fingers. his hands are rough and you feel him caress your whole body.

“do you see this cunt?” his fingers snake down to rub your clit and your eyes flutter open as you watch as he abuses your pussy. his cock plunges in and out, splitting you open so deliciously. “it’s mine, fuckin’ all mine, f-fffuck you’re such a nasty whore.”

you’re dripping wet and you can feel the mess between your legs. toji’s cock feels so big and thick inside your walls and you can only moan like a bitch in heat as you feel him fuck you senseless. his hands tighten around your throat and it only makes you moan louder, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the foggy mirror all you see is your fucked out face. toji’s behind you, face flushed as he leans forward to place kisses on your neck. his teeth nip at your skin and his tongue brushes over the bite he leaves. you grind your hips against his, feeling the way his cock seems to expand inside you.

“yours yours yours, ‘m all yours toji, ah! ah! ah!” you squeal as his cock hits that spot that has you convulsing with pleasure. the lewd noises fill the bathroom and you can feel the smirk against your neck as toji increases the pace of his thrusts. “gonna cum, gonna cum gonna cum!!!”

“yeah? go on then pretty girl, look at yerself as you cum on this cock, look at yerself as you get fucked stupid.”

his words push you over the edge and then your pussy’s clenching around his length, squeezing him so so tight that it has toji moaning above you as well. you scream as you feel yourself gush around him, liquid spraying everywhere as you watch your expression shift to one you had never seen before. you feel his fat tip bullying into your cunt and all you can do is moan as he continues to fuck you.

“princess didn’t think we were finished did ya?” his tone is mean and condescending and you know that the next few hours would consist of you being bent over every surface imaginable as toji fucks his cum into you. “‘m gonna make you watch yerself over and over again until you’re too fucked out to even keep these pretty eyes open.”

SATORU GOJO

you’re pressed up against the floor length mirror, satoru’s behind you, cock plunging in and out of your cunt. the cool sensation on your cheek is a stark contrast to the burning heat that’s in between your legs. you feel your mind become hazy as you feel satoru’s cock throb inside you.

“fuck baby, you look so gorgeous. love looking at your cute face as i fuck you, don’t you?”

his tone is mocking and you know he’s purposefully making fun of you. your too fucked out to even talk and all you can manage is a strangled moan as you feel yourself get lost in the pleasure. satoru’s cock is unreal and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits every single spot imaginable inside your body. he’s fucking you with so much fervour that you’re afraid that you’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.

“jus’ watch that filthy face, mouth open, tongue hanging out like some desperate bitch. who knew you were such a slut for cock?” satoru grips your hips like they’re the only thing keeping him sane as he fucks into your cunt. his dirty words fill your ears and all you can do is moan louder and louder as you listen to his haggard breathing. “tell me, who’s fucking you good? c’mon tell me who’s making an absolute, fffuckk, mess of this pussy.”

“y-you, you’re the one fucking me ‘toru, you’re the only one who can fuck me this good, a-ah! ‘toruuu feels so good, wan’ more, please!”

a wicked grin spreads across satoru’s face and you scream when he lifts your leg, hoisting you to a higher position as his cock plunges into your tight hole. you feel him hit impossibly deeper and every thrust is accompanied with a breathy moan as he slams his hips against yours.

his hands reach out to grab your face, twisting you to face him as he kisses you. his tongue delves into your mouth and you try to tug him closer to you. satoru swallows the lewd noises you provide him with, every moan, every whimper, every whine. he loves the way you call his name so desperately and he simply adores the way you look pressed up against the mirror, hands splayed pathetically in front of you. he pulls away, a string of salvia connecting the both of you and you watch as his eyes darken.

“open.” and you obey his words, widening your mouth as you feel him spit into it. the feeling was enough to make you go insane. he moans before kissing you once more and it sends the both of you in a passionate frenzy. “god you’re so greedy, nghh, s-such a needy slut.”

and you can’t deny his accusations, not when you’re so erotically pressed up against the mirror for him, watching yourself unravel right in front of yourself. satoru’s lips rest on your neck, sucking harshly as he leaves a fresh trail of red marks. you’re rendered unable to move as he fucks you harder, your gummy walls sucking him in deeper.

“no no no, look at yourself pretty, c’mon look at the way you take me so well. can’t get enough of you.” your eyes are drawn to the way his cock disappears into you, the prominent bulge in your stomach the centre of your attention. satoru’s hands reach down to press against the outline of his cock and you mewl at his touch. warmth spreads throughout your body and you spasm uncontrollably as each thrust has you jolting. “we’re gonna be here all night and you’re gonna be filled so full with my cum that you won’t need anything else.”

CHOSO KAMO

choso’s eyes are glued to your reflection above him. he’s staring intently at the mirror on his ceiling as you bounce on his cock over and over again. you giggle at his cute expression, how enraptured he is to watch the both of you in the mirror. his face is flushed and his hair is splayed everywhere on the pillow while you ride him.

“you’re so pretty baby, do you like looking at me that much?” your voice is light and teasing as your fingers drag up his chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath you. “if i had known i would’ve installed a mirror above our bed much sooner.”

all choso can do is whine as he bucks his hips up desperately. your pussy squeezes his cock so tightly and he gasps, finding himself unable to take his eyes off your figure. you look so beautiful above him and the more he stares the harder he falls in love with you.

“y-y/n, fffuckk, feels so g-good, your pussy feels so good!” his moans are breathy as he struggles to catch his breath. his cock hits every spot inside you so deliciously that it has you whimpering as well. “wanna fuck you forever.”

choso’s hands grip your waist as he snaps his hips up to yours and you squeal at the sudden movement, not expecting him to suddenly thrust into you. his pace is unrelenting as he continues to pound into your pussy watching as you fall apart on his cock. he’s always been so big and he’s always been able to fill you up so full.

“a-ahh! o-oh my godd, choso love you so much, love you so so - hnghh - much!” you throw your head back, too engrossed in the pleasure and you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. lewd expression and fucked-out eyes greet your gaze. you smile at the sight above you. your boyfriend looks adorable, face blushing red and eyes squeezed shut as he groans and whines. the sight is almost too much to bear.

choso reaches forward, grabbing your face close to his for a kiss. you moan as you melt into his body. your hands tangle through his hair and he lets out a whine when you tug at the roots. there’s tears pricking his eyes as he feels you tug on his dark locks.

“more, p-please more, need you s-so bad.” his words only fuel you more and you rock your hips back and forth faster, desperate to reach both of your highs. his hands wander around your body, caressing every inch of your skin until he finds your tits. his fingers play with your nipples, pinching and twisting them until it has you gasping for more. your cunt clenches around his cock and you can feel every protruding vein as he throbs painfully inside you. “w-wanna cum, please please please, ‘m so close y/n pleaseee.”

before you know it, you’re flipped over and choso’s on top of you, roughly ploughing into your pussy in a frenzied haze. his incoherent babbling fills your ears and all you can hear is him begging for his release. you feel your senses dim as his tip bruises your cervix and his cock seems to expand within you. your eyes lock onto the pens looking back to you in the mirror and you don’t recognise the girl whose mouth is agape and who’s moaning like a slut. choso captures your lips in a passionate kiss and he’s grinding his hips onto yours, fucking you dumb.

“look y/n, hah, look at yourself as you c-cum on my cock, wan’ you to see yourself as i fill you with - nghh - my c-cum.” your hands claw at choso’s back and you see the red marks it leaves as your nails dig into his skin and he hisses at the sensation. the mirror gives you a clear view of yourself and your boyfriend as you release all over him and as he spurts his cum into your pussy. you moan as you hug him closer to you, so you can feel every inch of him. hot thick cum invades your body and you feel your mind blank as you lie beneath choso blissed out.

SUKUNA RYOMEN

“nasty fuckin’ bitch.” sukuna grabs a handful of your ass as he plunges his cock into your pussy. his palm makes contact with the smooth curve and you scream as the pain spreads through your body. “wearing such a slutty outfit, you’re just asking to be fucked dumb aren’t you?”

the only response you’re able to give is a strangled moan as you grip the dirty surface in front of you. your tits spill out of the tight dress you’re wearing and you watch as they bounce in the mirror. every harsh thrust sukuna delivers is reciprocated with the recoil your ass provides. his hand makes contact once again and you feel tears roll down your face.

“think you can break up with me then come to some club in some scraps of fabric you call a dress? guess you’ve really gone insane haven’t you princess?” his words only make you grow wetter as you whimper in response. the moment you had spotted sukuna in the dark corner of the club you knew he would drag you to the bathroom and fuck your brains out, not that you were complaining. “f-fuck forgot how well this pussy takes my cock, such a greedy girl.”

“hngghh, ‘kuna-” your words are cut off with a shriek as sukuna lifts you higher. his cock hits you even deeper and you’re falling apart all over again. you watch the mirror in front of you, looking at the way your face is sweaty and the wicked grin that’s on your ex's face. “so good ‘kuna, so so good!”

“yeah? missed me dirty girl? did you miss the way this cock fills your slutty pussy?” sukuna’s hands are rough as they grope your breasts, he’s not gentle as he pulls on your nipples harshly. “answer me slut.”

“m-missed you so much ‘kuna, s-soo much ahhh!”

sukuna smirks and he’s pounding into your cunt sloppily again. you feel your arousal dripping down your thighs as it lands on the floor. he kneads your soft skin between his hands, tainting you with his touch. “filthy fucking whore, that’s all you’re ever gonna be, my fucking cum dump.”

the repetitive slapping of skin fills your ears and your breathy moans mix in to create a lewd concoction. you sob at the overstimulation as you watch yourself get fucked in the mirror. it’s gone foggy yet you can still make out your figure bent over as you get stretched out from behind you. each thrust has you jolting forward and you desperately cling on to the little bit of sanity you have left as sukuna fucks it out of you.

“you’re mine got that? don’t ever think about leaving me again, i’ll always find you princess because you’re mine, my cute little cocksleeve.”

you can’t take it anymore as you feel yourself squeeze his length. you’re so tight and his cock splits you open perfectly. his fat mushroom head invades your insides and you feel yourself craving his cum. you want him to use you so badly and you feel your own morals slip from your grasp. sukuna only continues his dirty praises as he leans forward, whispering them into your ear and his hot breath fans across your face and you mewl at the feeling.

“yours ‘kuna, only yours, wanna be yours forever please pleaseee!”

when you look up in the mirror you see the shit-eating grin that spreads across sukuna’s face and you feel your stomach tighten at the sight. his cock throbs in your pussy and you feel your whole body light on fire as he fucks into your harder.

“that’s right, you’re mine.”

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muqingslover · 5 months ago

Note

Ok, so... this might be a bit of a +18 think piece, but... what do you think the lads men would have as their top 3 kinks? I started thinking about it after I read the Xavier somno one, lol. Maybe I'm crazy but I think Caleb would have blindfolds/rope play in his top 3 (on mc not on him, since he wants to see all of you but is very resultant to show all of himself back due to fear of rejection+ if mc is tied up she can't leave)

[ choosing only three was a lot harder than I thought whew. Also, I'm testing out different layouts rn so don't mind me (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ]

Predator/Prey Play: This guy is the literal definition of wolf in sheep's clothing. What gets him going is the thrill of the hunt and the turntables (his specialty), which is why he will often let you think you're in control and have your fun teasing him only to then pounce when you least expect. If you run from him then you better pray he won't catch you or not.

Exhibitionism: This might be a hot take but walk with me. Xavier is a very jealous man so he won't ever allow anyone to actually see you, buuuut he is very into letting others know you belong to him. You gotta leave for a mission with someone else? Not to worry, all he needs is 10 minutes in the bathroom stall. The bread guy is back at it again? It can't be helped, he'll just have to fuck against the door while he's knocking to show you're busy. He'd love to see you struggling (and failing) to keep your voice down and looks like a smug cat when others notice the marks he left on you.

Cunnilingus: This man eats pussy like a goddamn champ. He absolutely adores having your thighs wrapped around his head, to the point he finds it comforting, and the feeling of his tongue stretching open your dripping pussy for his cock later. Your taste is something he could have every day, which he will if you let him, and he takes pride when you're left a writhing, whimpering mess that begs for him to fuck you.

Bondage: The joke about him tying MC up with surgical knots was definitely not a joke. In my opinion, rather than the power rush over the control he has over you, what really gets him off is the trust you put in his hands. Bondage is all about having faith in your partner to never truly hurt you and knowing you see him that way makes him feel beyond special. Given the chance he'd love to have you wrapped in dark blue, silky ribbons and the aftercare is top tier with this guy.

Lingerie: For some reason I feel like Zayne is REALLY into seeing you wearing lingerie. Ladies, feel free to tease him by telling him you're wearing one, but not letting him see until he's home much later. He'll spend the entire day imagining what type of lace you have under your clothes and he pretty please asks you to strip for him as a reward for waiting.

Phone Sex: Another one I just have a feeling it's his thing. I mean, he is a busy man and sometimes it can't be helped, people have needs yk. He'd like the feeling of knowing you think of him as much as he does of you when the other is not around. The photos you send and the sounds of your needy whines right next to his ear goes straight to his cock and he is mortified when the post-nut clarity hits him and he realizes what he did in his own office.

Overstimulation: I'm an overly sensitive Caleb truther. The overstimulation has his head spinning so good that he can barely form a coherent thought that isn't your name while he slams into your pussy for the nth time like a desperate man. He doesn't want to simply break you he wants to break together, to the point neither of you can think about anything else besides how good it feels.

Roleplaying: I've lost count of the amount of times we've seen him and MC roleplaying and this man will unironically take it to the bedroom. It starts as a joke where he's only doing it to make you laugh, but then he won't allow you to break character and will edge you until you say your "lines" correctly. Forceful and cold soldier? Check. Teasing and pervy Gege? of course. A loving and gentle husband? Sign him up. Strict teacher? No need to ask twice.

Brat Taming: Now defying Caleb is the equivalent of waving a red flag in front of a bull and you better run because when he catches you you're done for. He needs you to need him as much as he needs you and if he has to break you for you to admit it then he will. The rush of being the one in charge and "taking care" of you in a way no one else will is enough to have his cock throbbing.

Breeding AND Biting: These two go hand in hand every time you have sex with him. He craves to have a family with you but, more than anything, he wants you to be as full of him as his heart is of you. He wants you to be so filled with his cum that he has to keep his cock inside otherwise it'll leak out of you. He absolutely enjoys the slippery mess your warm insides become when he rocks his hips into you, slowly but deep, pushing his cum even further into your womb and hoping you'll get pregnant.

Body Worship: I've said it once and I'll say it again: Sylus is a lover boy! ! ! Each kiss on your skin is an offering, a promise and a worship. He wants to know the parts of your body not even you do and give you the love you deserve. The praises he whispers against your body are similar to a prayer and he could spend years exploring every inch of you without ever getting tired. You're the very reason for his existence and any less is just unacceptable.

Size: This guy is not only big but he's also very large. He is a softie who likes to tease you about how small you are compared to him while he holds your hand and pretends he doesn't hear your complaints about him suffocating you after the draped his heavy body over yours. That feeling of satisfaction extends when he has to gently coo you and kiss your tears away while he's spreading your little hole open. He can't help the fangy grin on his lips when he feels his cock bulge on your tummy and he holds your hand over the spot so you feel how deep he is inside of you as well.

Rough Sex: Another controversial take but I feel like he's a secret sadist just not the extreme type. Man can flip his demeanor from "harmless babyboy" to intimidating sea god in a split second who knows what else he's hiding under that purple wig. He'll keep an almost cold demeanor while he coaxes whimpers out of you in the best way and a wicked smirk spreads across his face at the sight of your tears, spurring him on until he's completely broken you.

Food Play: That's definitely one way to make sure he actually eats. Having you be his meal will make him hungry like never before and oh he absolutely will feast (this may or may not be a reference to this). He makes a point of not using his hands while licking along your skin, tasting the sweet chocolate before he left a purple mark on your thighs. Oh, this goes both ways so please pour wine on him and lick him clean ;)

Body Painting: I forgot if there's an actual English term for this but Rafayel would love to draw on your skin and watch you squirm each time the soft, wet brush went over your perked up nipples. He'd scold you when you move because you're making him smudge the lines and holds you in place with his free hand, warning you to stop or he'll take "extreme measures" to make you keep still. You are the only one he'd ever dare to call a masterpiece.

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harrysfolklore · 7 months ago

Text

labyrinth - fc43

summary: as the only female driver on the grid, everything in yn's life was planned like a perfect qualifying lap. then franco colapinto had to show up. first, he was just that annoying new guy who took her best friend's seat. then he became the driver she absolutely couldn't stand (or at least that's what she kept telling herself) word count: over 13k + social media posts

folkie radio: GUYYYYSSS SHE'S HERE! i started writing this fic in september and it's finally her time to shine!! this is my first time writing driver!reader so please be gentle with me. also, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! may all of your wishes come true

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,027,537 others

yourinstagram p6 in zandvoort ! happy to see max on the podium for his home race. see you soon monza 🇮🇹

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username1 LEGEND

username2 p6 with that tractor feels like a podium finish fr

username3 give your seat to danny already

oscarpiastri Well done stinks 👊

↳ logansargeant Don’t praise her, her ego gets inflated

↳ username2 BEST TRIO ON THE GRID

↳ yourinstagram you’re both so jealous of me

redbullracing Keep pushing ! 💙

↳ username1 FIX HER FUCKING CAR

username4 p6 in a redbull? just hand the seat to someone more deserving

francolapinto Amazing 🙌🙌

↳ username2 franco is such a fannn

danielricciardo Proud of you 👌👌

↳ username1 haters want to create this beef between yn and danny for the seat but him adores her

maxverstappen1 Look she’s a nice teammate

↳ yourinstagram you adore me 😤

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

A knot forms in your stomach as you read the messages. Something about the tone doesn't sit right with you. You quickly head towards Logan's motorhome, your mind racing and your axiety creeping in.

When you arrive, Oscar is already there, leaning against the wall with a concerned expression. Logan sits on the couch, his shoulders slumped and his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Logan?" you ask softly, stepping into the room. "What's going on?"

He looks up at you, then at Oscar, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and resignation. "I… I'm not coming back for the next race," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. Deep down, a part of you had known this was coming. Rumors in the paddock spread faster than a Formula 1 car on a straight, and there had been whispers about Logan's seat for weeks. But you hadn't wanted to believe it. You'd pushed those thoughts aside, convinced that if you just ignored them, they wouldn't come true.

"What? What do you mean you're not coming back?"

Oscar pushes off the wall, his brow furrowed. "Mate, what happened?"

Logan takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Williams… they're replacing me. I'm out."

The room falls silent for a moment as the news sinks in. Then, all at once, you feel a surge of anger coursing through your veins.

"They can't do that!" you exclaim, your voice rising. "It's mid-season! You've been improving, you've been working so hard. How can they just… just throw you away like this?"

Logan shrugs, a bitter smile on his face. "Apparently, they can. And they have."

A wave of emotions come crashing to you. Anger at Williams for their decision, frustration at the ruthless nature of the sport, and an overwhelming sadness for Logan.

Oscar moves to sit beside Logan, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, mate. This is bullshit."

You start pacing the room, your anger building with each step. "Who are they replacing you with? Some pay driver? Some rookie who's never even touched an F1 car?"

"Franco Colapinto," Logan says quietly.

You stop in your tracks, whirling to face him. "Colapinto? The F2 kid? Are they out of their minds?"

Oscar tries to interject, his voice calm. "YN, maybe we should-"

But you're too fired up to listen. "No, Oscar! This is wrong. It's so wrong. Logan deserves better than this. He deserves a chance to prove himself. How is he supposed to do that if they don't even give him a full season?"

Logan looks up at you, a mix of gratitude and sadness in his eyes. "I appreciate you having my back, stinks. But it's done. There's nothing we can do about it now."

You shake your head. "No, there has to be something. They can't just replace you with some F2 kid like that. They're out of their minds."

"YN," Oscar cuts in firmly. "I know you're angry. We all are. But right now, we need to be here for Logan. This isn't about us or what we think is fair. It's about supporting our friend."

As Oscar's words sink in, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you. He's right, of course. This isn't about your anger or your sense of injustice. It's about Logan, your friend who's just had his dream ripped away from him.

The three of you have been racing together since you were kids, climbing through the ranks side by side. You've shared victories and defeats, laughter and tears. You've pushed each other to be better, to chase your dreams relentlessly. And now, one of you is being left behind.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "I just… I can't believe this is happening."

Logan manages a small smile. "It's okay, stinks. I appreciate your passion. It's one of the things I've always admired about you."

"Remember when we were in karting, and YN nearly got into a fist fight with that kid who tried to push Logan off the track?" Oscar says with a small smile, trying to light up the mood.

"How could I forget?" +

Logan chuckles softly, "She was like a tiny ball of fury."

You feel a smile tugging at your lips despite the situation. "Hey, nobody messes with my boys and gets away with it."

"And nothing's changed," Oscar adds, giving you a fond look. "We've always had each other's backs, through everything. This is not the exception."

Without another word, the three of you come together in a tight group hug, a physical representation of the bond you've shared for so many years.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 2,017,697 others

yourinstagram logan, you’re more than just a friend — you’re family. we’ve raced together since we were kids, dreaming of f1. to see that dream cut short for you is heartbreaking

your talent, dedication and kindness have always shone through. you deserved better than this mid-season swap. this sport can be cruel, but this feels especially unfair and i’m angry that my friend’s journey has been interrupted

but i’m also incredibly proud of you, logan. you have handled this with grace and strength and this isn’t the end for you — it’s just a detour. love you, stinks 🥲

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username1 IM SOBBING

username2 i still can’t believe this

username3 well hold your tears because you’re next

pierregasly Chin up, mate @/logansargeant you’re a champ 👊

alex_albon You will always be family @/logansargeant, It’s so sad to see you go

username4 that was cute now hand your seat to daniel or yuki

username5 THE FIRST PIC 🥺🥺 IM NOT OKAY

username6 oh she’s PISSED

username7 this is so unfair for logan

username8 colapinto has an enemy on track already and it’s her 😭

username9 the best trio will be incomplete now i’m not okay

username10 YOU NEXT BYE BYE

logansargeant Thank you for everything, go make me proud 💙

↳ username1 IM SOBBING AGAIN

liked by francolapinto, landonorris and 410,764 others

williamsracing Franco Colapinto to race for the remainder of the 2024 season.

username1 VAMOOOS

username2 hello?? hes cute

username3 OKAY I SEE

username4 good thing for the team, sargeant was just not it

alex_albon Welcome to the fam @/francolapinto 👊

username5 KIIING

username6 an f1 kid who's not even top 5 right now in the championship? risky move

yourinstagram not even giving logan a proper goodbye? yall suck

THIS COMMENT HAS BEEN DETELED

username1 OMFG YN WE SAW THAT

username2 YN 😭😭

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Monza is always a race to look forward no matter what team you drive for, but today, your excitement is just not there.

The paddock feels different without Logan's presence, you have always raced alongside him, and not seeing his face during a race weekend feels wrong.

As you make your way through the bustling crowd, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness and anger. Inside the Red Bull hospitality area, you find Max already settled in, scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you approach, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Hey, kiddo. How are you holding up?" he asks, gesturing for you to take a seat next to him.

"As well as can be expected, I guess," you slump into the chair, running a hand through your hair. "It just feels wrong, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," Max nods, his expression thoughtful, "How's Logan doing? Have you talked to him?"

The mention of Logan's name ignites that spark of anger inside you again. "He's… he's putting on a brave face, but I know he's hurting. This whole situation is such bullshit, Max. Williams made a huge mistake."

Max raises an eyebrow, sensing the storm brewing beneath your calm exterior. "You want to talk about it?"

That's all the invitation you need. The words start pouring out of you, your voice rising with each sentence.

"It's just so unfair! Logan was improving every race. He was working his ass off, putting in the hours, doing everything the team asked of him. And for what? To be tossed aside mid-season for some rookie?"

Max tries to interject, "Well, Colapinto has been pretty impressive in F2-"

But you're on a roll now, barely registering his words. "Impressive in F2? So what? F1 is a whole different ball game. Logan was just starting to get comfortable, to really show what he could do. And now they've brought in this Colapinto kid who's never even driven an F1 car, who's probably a paid driver who's just going to waste everyone's times. What kind of message does that send?"

You stand up, pacing back and forth as you continue your rant. "Williams is making a huge mistake. They're throwing away all the work Logan put in, all the data they've gathered. For what? A gamble on some unproven talent? And don't even get me started on how they handled it. No warning, no real explanation. Just 'Thanks for your service, now get out.' It's disrespectful, it's short-sighted, and it's everything that's wrong with this sport sometimes."

Max watches you, a mix of concern and surprise on his face. He's never seen you this fired up before. "YN, I understand you're upset, but-"

"No, Max!" you interrupt him, "You don't understand because you'll never have the fear of having your seat taken from you out of nowhere. You're Max Verstappen. You're safe. But for the rest of us… we're always one bad weekend away from losing everything."

Max's brow furrows, clearly taken aback by your statement. "YN, that's not true. I worked hard to get where I am-"

"I know you did," you interrupt again, your voice softer now. "I'm not saying you didn't. But you have to admit, your position is different. You're a world champion. You're untouchable. But for drivers like Logan, like me… we're always looking over our shoulders, always wondering if this race will be our last."

Max is silent for a moment, processing your words. "I guess you're right, I've been in a secure position for so long, I forgot what it's like to worry about your seat." He pauses, then adds, "But you know, you're in a unique position too. You're the only woman driving a Formula 1 car. That's pretty special. You should feel-"

You cut him off, your frustration flaring up again. "Exactly! I'm the only woman here, Max. Do you have any idea how much more pressure that puts on me? Every move I make is scrutinized. Every-"

Before you can continue, you spot Franco Colapinto walking past the Red Bull area, chatting animatedly with his new race engineer. The sight of him in Williams colors sends another wave of resentment through you, and you turn away abruptly.

"I need some air," you mutter, storming out of the hospitality area, leaving a bewildered Max in your wake.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The sun beats down as you stand next to Oscar on the flatbed truck, waiting for the drivers' parade to begin. The usual buzz of excitement surrounding Monza feels muted to you, overshadowed still by Logan's absence and the presence of his replacement.

"Oi, what's with the long face?" Oscar nudges you playfully with his elbow. "You look like someone stole your last Tim Tam."

"Oh shut up, you dork," you can't help but crack a small smile, "As if I'd ever let anyone near my precious Tim Tams."

"Too right," Oscar grins. "But seriously, how are you holding up?"

You shrug, trying to keep your expression neutral for the cameras. "Oh, you know, just peachy. Nothing like a bit of midseason drama to spice things up, right?"

"Always the optimist, aren't you?" Oscar rolls his eyes, "Come on, I bet you twenty quid you can't name all the Italian F1 circuits without googling."

"You're on, Piastri," you say, grateful for the distraction. "Monza, Imola, Mugello…"

As you're racking your brain for more, you notice Franco Colapinto approaching. Your playful mood evaporates instantly.

Franco's eyes widen as he gets closer, clearly starstruck. "Uh, hi," he says nervously. "I'm Franco. I just wanted to introduce myself."

Oscar, ever the diplomat, smiles and extends his hand. "Hey mate, welcome to F1. I'm Oscar."

Franco shakes his hand before turning to you, his expression one of barely contained awe. "And you're YN. I… I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. You're such an inspiration. The way you've broken barriers in this sport, it's incredible. I've followed your career since your F3 days and-"

You cut him off, your voice cool. "Thanks. Welcome to the grid."

Franco's smile falters, but he presses on. "I just wanted to say how much I admire what you've accomplished. You've paved the way for so many young drivers, especially women in motorsport. It's an honor to be racing alongside you."

You nod stiffly. "Thanks," you repeat, your tone making it clear that you're not interested in continuing the conversation.

An awkward silence falls over the group. Oscar, sensing the tension, tries to smooth things over. "So, Franco, how are you finding the step up to F1 so far?"

As Franco turns to answer Oscar, you take the opportunity to step away, moving to the other side of the truck. You can feel Oscar's gaze following you, but you can't bring yourself to engage in small talk with Logan's replacement, no matter how well-intentioned he might be.

As you're standing alone, Alex approaches, a sympathetic smile on his face. "Hey, mind if I join you?"

You shrug. "Free country, Albon. Or free truck, I guess."

Alex chuckles softly. "How are you doing? I know this can't be easy for you."

You sigh, your guard dropping slightly with Alex. "It's… complicated. I'm angry for Logan, but I know it's not Franco's fault. It's just…"

"It's the reality of the sport we're in," Alex finishes for you. "Trust me, I get it. Been there, done that, got the Red Bull rejection t-shirt."

Your stomach twists at the mention of that, suddenly remembering the endless conversations and warnings from your team. And how despite having a contract for next season, there's threats about your seat being take away after every race weekend. But you push the thought away.

"Always the comedian, aren't you?"

"Someone's got to keep the mood light around here," Alex grins. "But seriously, I know it's tough. Franco's a good kid, though. He's been working really hard, trying to learn as much as he can."

You nod, not quite ready to let go of your resentment but appreciating Alex's perspective. "How's he settling in?"

"As well as can be expected," Alex says. "He's got a lot to learn, but he's eager. It's a big step up from F2, but he's handling the pressure well so far."

You're about to respond when the parade starts moving. Alex gives you a supportive pat on the shoulder before moving back to his spot. As the truck rolls down the straight, the cheers of the Tifosi wash over you. You lift your hand to wave, a mix of emotions swirling inside you that go beyond just Logan's replacement.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,638,578 others

yourinstagram p8. it is what it is. ciao monza 👋

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username1 you will always be the moment

username2 FIX THE FUCKING CAR ALREADY

username3 ouu shes DONEEE

username4 most undeserved seat on the grid i swear

username5 anyway RICBULL IS COMING

francolapinto Such a pleasure to race alongside you!

↳ username1 franco respects and admires her so much i love it

↳ username2 im pretty sure yn hates him tho

username6 the constructors championship is gone thanks to her

logansargeant Chin up, love you 💙

↳ username2 i miss them so much

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 12,739 others

f1gossip YN arriving at Red Bull HQ in Milton Keynes

Tensions running high as rumors swirl about potential driver shake-ups. Sources say YN’s recent performance has bosses considering options

Is the Honey Badger eyeing a comeback or could young Liam Lawson be making the leap to F1? 🤔

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username1 bro...

username2 they better fix her car NOW

username3 RICBULL RICBULL

username4 honestly the best thing for the team would be her getting replaced

username5 YAAAS SHE'S OUT FINALLY

username6 oscar is the only 2023 rookie who actually puts in the work

username7 some people need to start putting some respect on yn's name bc yall keep forgetting she was third in the championship and got her first win during her ROOKIE SEASON and the reason she's struggling rn is bc redbull is not getting their shit together

↳ username1 right??? they're just saying shit

↳ username4 you said it yourself, she has a championship winning car and she's not delivering. she should be out

username8 YN GET BEHIND ME

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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,638,538 others

yourinstagram great quali, we should have some fun tomorrow 😚

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username1 SLAYYY

username2 p4 after all the nonsense surrounding her seat? feels right

username3 THE QUEEN OF BAKU FOR REAL

lilyzneimer my favorite supergirl 💙

username4 she got lucky

username5 don't care, we still want danny or liam in that seat

username6 enjoy the race bc it might be your last

username7 watch her on that podium tomorrow

logansargeant Super proud always

↳ username2 LOGAN WE MISSS YOUUUU

francolapinto 🤩

liked by username1, logansargeant and 270,847 others

redbullracing Solid race and a bunch of points for the team 👊

Result 🏁PIA, LEC, YN P3, NOR, Max P5, ALO, ALB, COL, HAM, BEA

#F1 #RedBullRacing #AzerbaijanGP

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username1 SO DAMN TRUE

username2 yn back on the podium FINALLY

username3 yn saw the rumors about her seat and decided to shut them up

username4 SHES BEATING MAX FINALLY

username5 did they finally fix the car

username6 i don't want anyone commenting on her seat anymore

username7 i knew she got into that care absolutely PISSED

username8 QUEEN OF BAKU

liked by oscarpiastri, francolapinto and 1,764,933 others

yourinstagram was that entertaining? 😙 so happy to be on the podium for osco's second win, i love you so muuuch you diva

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username1 LEGEND

username2 she's so smug

username3 TELL THEM QUEEEN

landonorris The third pic is definitely your best @/oscarpiastri

↳ yourinstagram IKR

↳ username1 I LOVE THEM

logansargeant Congrats to both of you @/oscarpiastri @/yourinstagram I'm always proud of everything you achieve ❤️

↳ username2 logan should be there too i'm sad now

↳ oscarpiastri Love you mate

↳ yourinstagram this paddock will never be the same without you

maxvertsappen1 🙌🙌 So proud of you little sister

oscarpiastri Love you stinks

francolapinto Congrats! Always an honor to race alongside you

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The drivers' briefing has just concluded, and you find yourself lingering in the room, chatting with your friends.

"I swear, I almost peed my pants at that press conference!," Lando says, his eyes widening as he recalls, "When Max and YN just sat there in silence, staring down the journalists… I thought I was going to lose it!"

Pierre chuckles, giving you a knowing look. "I knew YN was the mastermind behind that. It has her written all over it."

"Well, someone had to make a point about these ridiculous penalties," you can't help but grin.

The group's laughter is interrupted as Franco approaches, a tentative smile on his face. "Hey guys, mind if I join?"

The others welcome him warmly, and you feel a knot forming in your stomach. You force a tight smile, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"Franco, mate!" George exclaims, patting him on the back. "That was some impressive driving in practice. You're settling in well."

Alex nods in agreement. "Yeah, you're really holding your own out there. Williams made a good choice."

You feel your jaw clench at Alex's words, but you remain silent, watching as Franco's face lights up with pride and gratitude.

"Thanks, guys," Franco says, his voice humble. "I still have a lot to learn, but I'm giving it my all."

"Well, it's paying off," Lando chimes in, "Points in just your second race? You're pushing that Williams harder than we've seen in a while."

As the conversation continues, with each driver offering praise and encouragement to Franco, you feel your frustration and anger building.

The memory of Logan's disappointment and unfairness of it all, mixed with the ever present threat of you seat having the same fate, bubbles up inside you until you can't contain it anymore.

"And what about Logan?" you snap, your voice cutting through the friendly chatter like a knife. The group falls silent, all eyes turning to you in surprise. Franco's smile fades, replaced by a look of discomfort and guilt.

"YN…" Oscar starts, his tone cautionary.

But you're too fired up to stop now. "No, seriously. Everyone's so quick to praise him, but what about Logan? He was improving every race, working his ass off, and for what? To be tossed aside mid-season?"

The atmosphere in the room becomes tense. George and Alex exchange uncomfortable glances, while Pierre shifts uneasily.

Franco, looking distressed, speaks up. "I never meant for Logan to lose his seat. I just took the opportunity when it was offered to me. Any driver would have done the same."

"Oh, so that makes it okay?" his words only fuel your anger. "You just 'took the opportunity'? Do you have any idea how hard Logan worked for that seat? How much he sacrificed?"

"YN, that's enough," Oscar says firmly, placing a hand on your arm.

But you shrug him off, your eyes blazing as you face Franco. "You waltz in here, taking a seat you didn't earn, and everyone's falling over themselves to congratulate you. It's not right. It's not fair."

The room falls into a shocked silence. Franco looks like he's been slapped, his earlier excitement completely deflated. The other drivers are staring at you with a mix of surprise and disapproval.

It's George who finally breaks the tension. "YN, I think we all understand you're upset about Logan. We all are. But this isn't Franco's fault. He's just trying to make the most of his chance, like any of us would."

You feel a flush of shame creeping up your neck, but your anger is still simmering. "You don't understand," you mutter, but the fight has gone out of your voice.

Franco, looking genuinely distressed, takes a step towards you. "I'm sorry about what happened to Logan. I really am. I have nothing but respect for him, and for you. I never wanted to cause any problems."

His sincerity catches you off guard, and for a moment, you see not the driver who replaced your friend, but a young, talented kid trying to navigate a difficult situation. However, your anger and frustration gets the best of you.

"Whatever," you mumble, pushing past the group and out of the room, leaving a stunned silence as you disappear.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 709,639 others

francolapinto still buzzing from singapore 🇸🇬growing up watching Lewis battle in marina bay and now getting to race wheel to wheel with him... surreal doesn't even begin to cover it 🤯 and that fight with YN for position was proper racing - those last few laps were intense! thank you to the team for giving me a car that could fight at the front. vamos 💪

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username1 he’s an f1 driver now but he’ll always be a fanboy

lewishamilton Good racing kid, you've got a bright future ahead ��🏾

williamsracing Our boy! 💙

username3 Did anyone else notice how aggressive YN was when overtaking Franco? Almost pushed him into the wall...

↳ username1 fr she looked like she wanted to crash him

↳ username4 they were racing for position, that's what racing drivers do 🙄

username5 the way he always mentions YN in his posts but she never acknowledges him 👀

username6 that move from YN was unnecessarily aggressive, could've ended badly

landonorris Great drive mate!

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 2,370,739 others

f1 BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo to leave RB, the team have announced. Liam Lawson will race in place of Ricciardo for the remaining six races of the season for the team.

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username1 DANNY NOOOO

username2 this sucks man

danielricciardo Been a hell of a ride! Thank you RB family ❤️

maxverstappen1 Going to miss you mate!

username3 Wrong driver leaving... YN should be the one out

↳ username1 exactly! she's been underperforming all season

yourinstagram always grateful for everything you taught me DR. more than a driver - you've been a big brother, mentor, and friend since day one. going to miss our pre-race dance parties 🥺🤍

↳ username3 now give him your seat

↳ username1 it's no annoying to see that drivers like her have an undeserved contract extension and talented drivers get left out

↳ danielricciardo Love you kiddo! Make me proud

username5 Gutted to see Danny Ric go 💔

landonorris Won't be the same without you mate!

username7 @/yourinstagram Maybe focus more on racing than dancing 🙄

↳ username8 she's literally P5 in the championship, shut up

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As you step off the plane in Florida, the warm air envelops you, a stark contrast to the crisp autumn weather you left behind in Europe. Your heart lightens as you spot Logan waiting for you, his familiar grin a welcome sight after weeks of tension and stress. You missed your best friend so much.

You rush towards him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. "I missed you so much," you say, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "That paddock sucks without you."

Logan chuckles, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm. "I missed you too, stinks." He pulls back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now, let's grab a beer since you're out of race cars for a while."

You nod eagerly, letting him lead the way. He drives you to a nearby bar, one you've learned over the years of knowing him was the one he used to go to during his teenage years. The casual atmosphere is a refreshing change from the high-pressure environment of the paddock. As you settle into a booth with cold beers in hand, you feel some of the tension from the past few months start to melt away.

"So, how's life outside the F1 bubble?" you ask, taking a sip of beer.

Logan grins, leaning back in his seat. "It's… different. But not all bad. Actually, I've got some news." He pauses for dramatic effect. "I've been in talks with a few IndyCar teams."

Your eyes widen with excitement. "Logan, that's fantastic! Tell me everything!"

For the next hour, Logan animatedly describes his meetings with IndyCar team principals, the tracks he's excited to race on, and the new challenges he's looking forward to. You listen intently, genuinely happy for your friend's potential new chapter.

"It's not F1," Logan admits, "but it's a hell of a racing series. And who knows? Maybe it'll lead me back to F1 someday."

"I have no doubt," you assure him, raising your bottle in a toast. "To new beginnings!"

As the conversation flows, you find yourself relaxing more than you have in months. You chat about mutual friends, swap funny stories from your junior racing days, and discuss the latest paddock gossip.

Eventually, Logan's expression turns a bit more serious. "So, Oscar's been keeping me updated on what's been going on in F1. Sounds like things have been… tense with Franco."

You feel your mood shift at the mention of Franco's name. "Yeah, you could say that," you mutter, taking a long swig of your beer.

Logan leans forward, his voice gentle but firm. "YN, I know you're upset on my behalf, but you can't keep this grudge going forever. Franco's just a kid trying to make his way in the sport, like we all were not too long ago."

"I know, I know. It's just," you sigh heavily, "Every time I see him in the garage, in your overalls, talking to your engineers… it feels wrong, Logan. Like he's stolen something that belongs to you."

"But he didn't steal anything," Logan counters. "The team made a decision. It sucks for me, yeah, but that's not on Franco. He just took an opportunity that was offered to him. Can you honestly say you wouldn't have done the same in his position?"

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. Logan has a point, and you know it.

"Look," Logan continues, "I've had some time to process all this, and I've come to terms with it. It's a cutthroat sport, YN. We all know that. Franco's not the villain here."

"But the way it happened," you protest, "mid-season, with no warning. It wasn't fair to you."

"Fair doesn't always come into it in F1. It just happens," Logan shrugs, "Besides," he adds with a hint of a smile, "I hear he's doing a decent job. The kid's got talent."

"He's alright," you grudgingly admit. "But he's not you."

Logan laughs. "No one's me, stinks. I'm one of a kind."

You can't help but crack a smile at that. "True enough."

"So," Logan says, his tone turning serious again, "can you promise me you'll try to ease up on Franco? Give him a fair shot? For me?"

You sigh deeply, considering his words. "I'll try," you finally concede. "But I'm not promising to be his best friend or anything."

"That's all I ask," Logan says, looking relieved. "Now, is this just about Franco replacing me, or is there something else going on? You seem… I don't know, more on edge than usual."

For a moment, you consider telling him about the talks with Red Bull, about the uncertainty surrounding your own seat. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but something holds you back. Maybe it's not wanting to burden Logan with your problems, or maybe it's not being ready to voice your fears out loud.

"No, nothing else," you lie, forcing a smile. "Just the usual F1 stress, you know how it is."

Logan nods, though he doesn't look entirely convinced. "Well, if there ever is anything, you know you can talk to me, right? Even if I'm not in the paddock anymore."

"I know," you say, feeling a pang of guilt. "Thanks, Logan. Really."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 1,289,673 others

yourinstagram florida !!! is one hell of a drug

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username1 AHHH she visited logan

logansargeant Next time we're doing the gator tour 🐊

↳ username2 i love them sm

oscarpiastri No invite for your favourite Aussie? Rude

↳ username2 we need the iconic trio together again

username3 they've been friends since forever, love how they support each other

username4 Logan and YN's friendship >>>>>

username5 Why is she on holiday when she should be working on her driving?

username6 the way logan always has her back 🥺

username7 surely there are better uses of time with 4 races left and her seat under threat?

francolapinto Amazing 🙌

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You arrive at the Red Bull hospitality area in Austin, the excitement of being back after the break palpable in the air. As you walk in, you spot Max lounging on one of the sofas, scrolling through his phone.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Max grins, looking up from his device. "Did you get lost in the Texas wilderness?"

You roll your eyes playfully, dropping your bag on a nearby chair. "Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness. Did I keep you waiting? I was busy signing autographs for all my adoring fans. You know how it is… oh wait, you don't."

"Ouch, that hurt," Max clutches his chest in mock pain, "And here I was, about to show you something interesting, but now I'm not so sure you deserve it."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. The banter with Max always helps you relax before a race weekend, and you've missed this during the break. "Oh come on, spill it, Verstappen. You know you want to. Don't make me steal your phone."

Max chuckles and pats the seat next to him. "Alright, alright. Sit down before you hurt yourself trying to reach my phone."

As you sit down, he pulls up a video on his phone. "Check this out. It's an interview with your biggest fan."

It's an interview with Franco. Your initial instinct is to look away, a mix of guilt and stubbornness rising in your chest. But something in Max's expression makes you watch.

"Lewis Hamilton and YN are my biggest idols in F1," Franco is saying, his face earnest. "The way YN races, her dedication and skill, it's truly inspiring. She's broken so many barriers and shown that talent knows no gender. I feel honored just to be on the same grid as her."

As the interview continues, Franco heaps more praise on you, his admiration clear in every word. You feel a twinge of guilt, remembering how cold you've been towards him. The genuine respect in his voice makes you uncomfortable, forcing you to confront your own prejudices.

"Her overtake on Leclerc in Interlagos last year? That was pure brilliance," Franco continues. "I've watched that move countless times, trying to learn from it. YN's not just a great driver, she's changing the face of the sport. I hope one day I can race wheel-to-wheel with her and show her the respect she deserves on track."

Max turns off the video and looks at you expectantly. "I think you owe someone an apology," he says, his tone gentle but firm.

You nod slowly, the realization sinking in. A wave of shame washes over you as you remember your cold behavior towards Franco. "I think I do," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, we all make mistakes. What matters is how we fix them. Franco's a good kid, and he really looks up to you. Maybe it's time to give him a chance?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "I actually talked to Logan last week," you confess, watching Max's eyebrows rise in surprise. "He's doing well, actually - focusing on IndyCar now. But we talked a lot about… everything."

"Yeah?" Max shifts in his seat, clearly intrigued. It's not often you open up about these things.

"He basically told me I needed to stop fighting battles that weren't mine to fight. Said he appreciates me having his back, but Franco isn't the enemy here. He's just chasing his dream, like we all did. Logan said he remembers how it felt, getting his first chance - we all do."

Max nods thoughtfully. "Logan's right, you know. We've all been there at some point - getting an opportunity because someone else lost theirs. It's just how F1 works sometimes."

"I know," you admit, standing up. "And I've been unfair to Franco. He's actually doing a really good job with Williams, fighting in the midfield with a car that's not the easiest to drive. And here I am, making him feel unwelcome when I should be supporting talent. Some role model I am, right?"

"So what are you going to do about it?" Max asks, though his smile suggests he already knows.

You spot Franco heading towards the Williams hospitality area. "I'm going to make it right."

Walking over to Williams, you feel your heart pounding a little faster with each step. You find Franco sitting at one of the tables, going through data on his laptop with his race engineer.

"Franco?" you call out. "Could I steal you for a moment?"

He looks up, surprise evident on his face. "YN? Hi… yeah, of course." He glances at his engineer, who nods and excuses himself.

"Mind if I sit?" you ask, gesturing to the empty chair. When he nods, you take a deep breath. "I owe you an apology. A proper one."

Franco starts to shake his head, but you hold up a hand. "Please, let me finish. I've been unfair to you, and it wasn't right. I let my loyalty to Logan blind me to the fact that you're just a talented driver making the most of your opportunity. I've been cold, sometimes even hostile, and you didn't deserve any of that."

"I… thank you," Franco says quietly. "That means a lot. I want you to know, I reached out to Logan when-"

"I know," you interrupt gently. "He told me. That's partly why I'm here. You showed real class doing that, Franco. And you're doing a great job with the car. That P8 in Baku? That was proper racing."

A genuine smile breaks across his face. "Coming from you, that really means a lot. You know, I've watched your races since I was in F3. The way you fought through all the doubters, proved everyone wrong… you're really an inspiration."

You feel your throat tighten unexpectedly. "I had no idea."

"That's why your opinion means so much," Franco admits, fiddling with his water bottle. "When you seemed disappointed in me being here… it hurt, you know?"

"I'm sorry," you say again, meaning it more than ever. "How about we start fresh? Maybe you can talk me through that overtake in Baku - I noticed you used a similar line to what I did in Interlagos last year."

Franco's eyes light up. "You caught that? I actually studied your move while preparing for the race! The way you positioned the car on entry…"

You spend the next twenty minutes discussing racing lines and overtaking techniques, the earlier tension completely dissolved. Franco's enthusiasm is infectious, reminding you of your own early days in F1.

When you finally walk back to Max, you feel lighter than you have in months. He greets you with a knowing smile. "Feel better?"

"Much better," you admit. "Sometimes you need a kick in the right direction So thank you, I needed that wake-up call."

"Anytime," he smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulders, "Can't have my teammate being the paddock villain, can I? That's my job."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1 and 1,667,459 others

yourinstagram rookies keeping us on our toes 😤 good battles today @/francolapinto

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username1 THIS IS LEGENDARY

username3 franco is going to piss his pants

williamsracing Our rookie giving the Red Bull a run for their money 💙

username4 she shouldn’t be acknowledging that a rookie in a williams is making it hard for her… embarrasing

username5 the start of YN and Franco's friendship? 👀

username7 the tension between these two was getting old, glad they're friends now

username8 HANDLE YOUR SEAT

username8 MY DUO 😭❤️

francolapinto Next time I won’t make it easy for you!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The private jet hums quietly through the night sky towards Mexico City. Most of the other drivers are asleep, exhausted from the intense Austin weekend. You find yourself unable to sleep, your mind still racing from the events of the day. Glancing around the dimly lit cabin, you notice Franco is also awake, absently flipping through a magazine.

Catching your eye, he gives you a warm smile and moves to the empty seat across from you. "Can't sleep either?"

"Too much adrenaline still," you admit, adjusting your position to face him better. "Great drive today, by the way. That point was well-deserved."

Franco's face lights up at the compliment. "Thanks! Though it's nothing compared to your battle with Lando. I was watching it from behind and thought 'there's no way she's going to make that stick' but then you just… did. It was incredible."

You laugh softly, careful not to wake the others. "There was a moment there where I wasn't sure either. But sometimes you just have to go for it, you know?"

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Franco grins. "Like that time in F3 when I tried to go around the outside at Spa and ended up practically in another timezone."

"Please tell me there's video of that," you snicker.

"Unfortunately for my dignity, yes. I think my engineer still uses it as an example of what not to do."

The conversation flows naturally, jumping from racing stories to childhood memories. You find yourself genuinely enjoying his company, something that would have seemed impossible just a few weeks ago.

"So what made you want to be a racing driver?" you ask, genuinely curious.

As Franco launches into how he found his passion for the sport, you find yourself really looking at him properly for the first time. The soft cabin lighting catches the angles of his face, and you notice details you'd overlooked before. His eyes are warm with flecks of gold, crinkling slightly at the corners when he smiles. There's a small scar above his right eyebrow, barely noticeable unless you're paying attention. His dark hair is slightly disheveled from the long race day, a few strands falling across his forehead.

You catch yourself thinking how handsome he actually is, in that classic way. His animated expressions as he talks about racing make him even more attractive, his passion for the sport evident in every gesture.

"...and that's when I knew I wanted to do this forever," he finishes, then looks slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I tend to get carried away when talking about racing."

"No, don't apologize," you say quickly. "It's refreshing to see that kind of enthusiasm. Some of the guys get so jaded after a while."

Franco's smile turns a bit shy. "Speaking of enthusiasm, I'm really excited about racing in Mexico this weekend. It's one of my favorite cities - the atmosphere is just incredible."

"The fans are amazing there," you agree. "Though I still haven't found a really good place to eat in Mexico City. The hotel restaurant gets old pretty quickly."

Franco's eyes light up. "Oh, you have to let me help with that! I know a couple of amazing restaurants in the city. There's this incredible place that serves the best traditional dishes you've ever tasted, and another one in that does contemporary Mexican cuisine that would blow your mind."

You find yourself intrigued, both by the suggestion and the eager way he's describing it. "That sounds way better than room service."

"We could..." he hesitates for a moment, then continues with determination, "we could go together, if you'd like? After Thursday's media duties maybe? I'd love to show you my favorite spots."

There's something endearing about the way he's trying to sound casual while clearly being nervous about asking. You feel a flutter in your stomach that you definitely weren't expecting.

"You know what? That sounds great," you say, surprised by how much you mean it. "It's about time I experienced proper Mexican cuisine."

Franco's face breaks into a brilliant smile. "Perfect! I'll make a reservation for Thursday evening then. Trust me, you won't regret it."

As the conversation continues, you can't help but notice how natural it feels now, how easily you're laughing at his jokes and sharing stories. It's hard to believe this is the same person you were avoiding just a few weeks ago.

As other drivers start stirring from their sleep, Franco returns to his original seat, but not before confirming your dinner plans one more time.

Watching him walk away, you find yourself looking forward to Thursday evening more than you probably should. It's just dinner with a colleague, you tell yourself, even as you catch yourself smiling at the thought of it.

"Just dinner," you whisper to yourself, but somehow, you're not entirely convinced.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

yourinstagram has added to their close friends stories

replies:

georgerussell63 So that was all the giggling I heard during the flight

oscarpiastri I’m so telling Logan

maxverstappen1 Can I say “I told you so” now?

francolapinto close friends privileges already? wow

↳ yourinstagram don’t push it colapinto

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The hotel lobby is relatively quiet as you wait for Franco, having agreed to meet there before heading to the restaurant. You've opted for casual - a simple black dress that makes you feel confident but not overdressed.

"Ready to have your mind blown by the best food in Mexico City?" Franco's voice makes you turn. He's wearing dark jeans and a well-fitted navy button-down, and you try not to notice how good he looks.

"Big claims require big proof," you tease, falling into step beside him.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Lando's familiar accent cuts through the lobby. He's just coming in from what looks like a gym session, and his surprised smirk makes you want to roll your eyes. "Interesting dinner plans?"

"Just showing YN the local cuisine," Franco says smoothly, though you notice his ears turning slightly pink.

"Right, right," Lando drawls, his eyes dancing with amusement. "The local cuisine. In your nice shirt. At that fancy place you've been talking about for weeks-"

"Goodbye, Lando," you cut him off, grabbing Franco's arm and steering him toward the exit, trying to ignore Lando's knowing chuckle behind you. You knew it was a matter of time before the entire grid finds out you went out with Franco.

The restaurant is everything Franco promised and more. The conversation flows easily between you, and you find yourself charmed by the way he seamlessly switches between Spanish and English while ordering, the way he leans in slightly when you're talking, the way his hand occasionally brushes yours across the table.

"No way," you laugh, taking another sip of wine. "You did not challenge your friend to a dance-off."

"I absolutely did," Franco grins. "And I won, by the way. Though there might have been some tequila involved."

"I would pay good money to see that."

"Play your cards right," he says with a playful wink, "and maybe you'll get a private demonstration."

The flirtatious comment catches you off guard, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. Franco seems pleased with this reaction, his confidence growing throughout the evening.

The evening continues, warm and comfortable. Franco insists on ordering dessert - "You haven't lived until you've tried their churros con chocolate" - and you find yourself sharing stories between bites of perfectly crispy churros.

"So," Franco says, wiping chocolate from his lip with a napkin, "you, Oscar, and Logan - that's quite the trio. How did that happen?"

You laugh, fondly remembering those early days. "We practically grew up together in karting. I was this tiny kid trying to prove myself, Oscar was already sassy even at eight years old, and Logan… well, Logan was Logan."

"Let me guess - immediate chaos?" Franco grins.

"Oh, absolutely. We used to drive our parents and coaches crazy. These three kids who wouldn't stop racing each other even after practice was over." You smile at the memory. "We've been inseparable ever since. Though now Logan's living his best life in Florida."

Franco's eyes soften. "You really miss having him in the paddock, don't you?"

"Yeah," you admit quietly. "I do. But he's happy, and that's what matters. Plus, he texts me stupid memes at least twenty times a day, so it's like he never left."

After asking for the bill — one that Franco didn't let you pay no matter how much you insisted — you decided to walk back to the hotel. You were aware that his hand was close to yours as you walked side by side, almost brushing your fingers, but you didn't dare to take that step, and neither did he.

You reach the hotel, but instead of heading straight for the elevators, Franco suggests taking the scenic route through the garden. The night is too nice to end just yet.

"I have to say," he remarks as you walk, "you look beautiful tonight. That dress is…" he makes an exaggerated chef's kiss gesture, making you laugh.

"Smooth, Colapinto. Very smooth."

"I try," he winks, and you roll your eyes but can't hide your smile.

The walk to your room comes too quickly. Outside your door, Franco turns to you with a soft smile.

"Thank you for tonight," he says. "It was… nice. Really nice."

"It was," you agree, finding yourself meaning it completely. "Thank you for showing me your favorite spot."

There's a moment where you both just look at each other, the air charged with something unspoken. Franco takes a small step closer, then seems to think better of it.

"Goodnight, YN," he says softly, squeezing your hand once before letting go.

"Goodnight, Franco," you reply, watching him head down the hallway.

As you close the door behind you, you lean against it, smiling to yourself. You can already hear Max's smug "I told you so" tomorrow, but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 14,892 users

f1gossip🚨 Franco Colapinto and YN spotted having dinner together in Mexico City. They spent over two hours at the restaurant according to witnesses.

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username2 This is getting interesting... 👀

username3 STOP I'M CRYING 😭❤️

username4 they're just friends guys, calm down

username4 the way he makes her laugh though!!!

username5 watch how they'll deny everything tomorrow

username6 MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS

username8 this has to be more than just friendship...

username10 I MANIFESTED THIS

username12 focus on racing instead of dating maybe?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Brazilian rain hammers down relentlessly on the Interlagos circuit. It's barely 6 AM, but the paddock is already buzzing with nervous energy for the early sprint qualifying. You stifle a yawn as you check your phone for what must be the hundredth time that morning. Another message from Franco pops up - a picture of himself looking comically miserable in the rain with the caption "Maybe if we all pretend we didn't see the rain, they'll cancel quali?"

The past week has been unexpected in the best way possible. After that dinner in Mexico, something shifted. What started as sharing breakfast in the hotel turned into spending every free moment together. During the long flight to São Paulo, George had dramatically sighed and switched seats with Franco, muttering something about "not being able to take the longing looks across the plane anymore."

"Someone's cheerful for 6 AM," Max comments, walking into the garage as you quickly type a response to Franco. "Let me guess - Argetinian company keeping you entertained?"

You try to hide your smile but fail miserably. "Shut up and focus on qualifying."

"Oh, I'm focused," he grins. "Unlike someone who keeps looking at their phone every two minutes."

"I'm just-"

"YN," Max interrupts, counting off on his fingers, "he waited outside our debrief yesterday just to walk you to dinner. He somehow always knows your coffee order. And don't think I didn't notice him giving you his jacket yesterday."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "We're just friends."

"Right," Max smirks. "Friends. Like how Charles and I are 'just friends' when we're trying to punt each other off track."

"Shut up, as if you weren't secretly in love with each other."

A few hours later, as you prepare for the drivers' parade, Oscar sidles up next to you with his trademark grin.

"Well, well, if it isn't the stranger," he says dramatically. "Remember me? One of your best friends? Though I suppose you wouldn't know, being attached at the hip with a certain Williams driver these days."

You roll your eyes, but there's no heat in it. "Miss me that much, Piastri?"

"Just saying, used to be we'd get coffee before parade, now it's all 'Sorry Oscar, Franco already got me coffee,'" he mimics your voice terribly.

You're about to retort when Franco appears, and Oscar's grin widens. "And that's my cue. Have fun, kids!" He winks before sauntering off.

"Ignore him," you say when you notice a small smile in Franco's face, "He's the perpetual pain in my ass."

"He's okay," Franco says, standing closer to you. You're trying to get your hair in order when you realize something's missing.

"Shit," you mutter, patting your pockets. "I forgot my hair tie."

"You always braid it before races, right?"

"Yeah," you sigh, still searching. "I'm stupidly superstitious about it. Haven't gotten into the car without a perfect braid since F3."

"Here," Franco pulls a hair tie from his wrist. At your surprised look, he shrugs. "I started carrying one after Mexico. Just in case," he shrugs, as if he was saying the most obvious thing ever, "Turn around."

"You know how to braid hair?"

"Sisters, remember? I'm practically a professional." His fingers are gentle as they work through your hair. "Besides, can't have you breaking your streak because of a missing hair tie."

You're acutely aware of the other drivers watching with varying degrees of amusement. Lewis gives you a knowing wink as he passes, while Charles not-so-subtly elbows Oscar and gestures toward you two.

"There," he says finally, securing the end with your hair tie. "Perfect braid for perfect racing."

You reach back to feel it - it is indeed perfect. When you turn to thank him, you find him much closer than expected, his eyes soft as they meet yours.

"Show off," you manage to say, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing.

"Only for you," he replies with a wink, and you hear what sounds suspiciously like Alex whispering "Just kiss already" to George.

The moment is broken by the announcement for drivers to take their places on the parade truck. As you climb aboard, you catch Oscar making exaggerated swooning gestures at you, while Max simply mouths "Just friends?" with a knowing smirk.

Franco takes his place beside you on the truck, close enough that your shoulders touch, and somehow you find you don't really care who's watching.

"Nice braid, by the way," Charles calls out teasingly from behind you. "Franco, think you could do mine next time?"

"Get your own hair stylist, Leclerc," you call back, and Franco's laugh next to you makes everything - the bad qualifying, the rain, the teasing - worth it.

The truck starts moving, and Franco's hand finds yours, hidden from view between you. You intertwine your fingers with his, and neither of you let go for the entire parade.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 21,765 others

f1_insider🚨 Christian Horner spotted leaving Williams hospitality after a 2-hour meeting in Brazil. This comes amid increasing speculation about driver changes for 2025.

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username1 They're not even trying to be subtle anymore…

username2 leave YN alone challenge

username3 Franco to Red Bull confirmed? 👀

username5 WAIT WHAT

username7 the timing of this… right before quali 😬

username8 everyone acting surprised like this hasn't been brewing for weeks username11 They're trying to destabilize her before the race

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 2,093,032 others

yourinstagram brazil never disappoints. p15 ➡️ p2. proud of this one.

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username1 IM STILL CRYING

username2 MIC DROP

maxverstappen1 Proper racing today 💪🏻 That defense in the last 10 laps 🔥Love you kiddo, couldn't ask for a better teammate

↳ username1 max said SHE'S NOT GOING ANYWHERE

danielricciardo THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! That's my girl!

username3 EVERYONE'S PRIDE AND JOY

username4 she got lucky and still no win this season

landonorris Absolute monster in the wet

logansargeant THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND

username5 this is why she deserves that seat

username6 where are all the haters now? 🤫

username7 that battle through the midfield was masterclass

username8 Silencing critics in the best way possible

liked by username1, username2 and 14,088 others

f1gossip YN's radio messages during Franco's crash show a different side to their "rivalry." Listen to how her voice changes when she finds out it's him. Sometimes the real feelings come through in moments like these.

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username2 this doesn't sound like someone who "hates" him

username3 top I'm crying 😭

username4 "tell me he's okay" broke me

username6 forget the rivalry narrative, that's genuine concern

username7 MY DRIVERS STOOOOP

username8 this is the most emotion we've heard from her all season

username9 notice how she's been cold towards him for weeks but the second he's in danger…

username10 SOMETHING SHIFTED

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The easy banter has become your normal over the past week. Ever since Brazil, where you fought your way from P15 to P2 in treacherous conditions, something has shifted between you. The walls you'd carefully maintained started crumbling during that rain-soaked weekend.

Your phone buzzes again - this time it's Christian Horner requesting a meeting. Your stomach tightens instinctively. These meetings have become more frequent throughout the season, always with subtle undertones about your future with the team.

Franco: "Meeting with James in 10. Wish me luck not falling asleep in the sim debrief. Call you after?"

You: "Sure, good luck x"

The 'x' slips out before you can stop it - you've never added that before. Your finger hovers over the delete button, but he's already seen it.

Franco: "Did THE YN just send me a kiss? Screenshots being taken. This is historic

You're still smiling about your early interaction with Franco when you walk into Christian Horner's office, but his expression is serious enough to make your smile fade. You've been here before - these "casual meetings" that could determine your future.

"YN, thanks for making time," he gives a polite smile, "Please, take a seat."

You sit, trying to read his expression. Last week's podium trophy sits on a shelf behind him - your trophy, earned after fighting through half the grid.

"As you're aware, your contract includes certain performance clauses. While your recent results, particularly Brazil, have been impressive, we need to consider all options for the team's future."

That familiar knot in your stomach returns. "What kind of options?"

"I was at Williams recently," Christian says carefully, "discussing various possibilities, including Franco Colapinto."

The world seems to tilt slightly. Franco. At Williams. Meeting about possibilities. Just like with Logan.

"I got P2 in Brazil," you say, hating how defensive your voice sounds. "Started P15. In the rain. I battled with the entire grid while also defending for Max to secure a double podium."

"Yes, and it was an exceptional drive-"

"I'm fifth in the championship. I've scored podiums consistently despite the car being a nightmare to drive most of the times. What more do I need to do?"

Christian's expression remains neutral. "This isn't about any single result, YN. We need to evaluate all potential scenarios for the team's future."

"So you're considering replacing me," you say flatly. "With Franco."

"I trust you understand this is just business, YN," Christian says as you stand to leave. "We have to explore every option."

You pause at the door, turning back slightly. "Of course. Business." Your voice is perfectly controlled. "Just like my P2 in Brazil was business. My podiums were business. Everything I've given to this team has been business."

"YN-"

"No, I get it. Really." You manage a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I have some sim work to review."

It hits you as you drive back to your apartment - every friendly conversation, every shared coffee, every late-night text… none of it was real. Franco isn't your friend. He's just another driver who sees you as an obstacle to overcome, a seat to claim. Just like everyone else since you entered F1, smiling to your face while plotting to take what's yours.

Back in your apartment, your phone keeps lighting up with Franco's messages, each one making your chest tighter. You can't bring yourself to block him - that feels too much like acknowledging how much this hurts. Instead, you just... stop responding. Set the phone aside. Focus on your laptop, on race data, on anything else.

Your phone rings - Oscar's familiar face popping up on the screen.

"Finally!" he exclaims when you answer. "I've been trying to reach you all day. You missed the most hilarious thing - Lando tried to make vegemite pasta."

Despite everything, you find yourself smiling. "Please tell me someone filmed it."

The conversation flows easily, almost making you forget about everything else. Almost.

"Oh yeah," Oscar adds casually, "ran into Franco at paddle today. He seemed pretty worried-"

"He better focus on preparing for his Red Bull seat instead."

"His what?" Oscar sounds confused. "Stinks, what are you on about?"

"Horner had meetings at Williams. About Franco. About possibilities. Sound familiar?"

"Hang on, hang on. Did you even talk to Franco about this? Because he genuinely seemed concerned-"

"Of course he seemed concerned, Os. That's the whole point."

"YN, I know you. You're doing that thing where you push people away before they can hurt you. But stinks, I really don't think-"

"I have to go. Sim data to review."

"At least talk to him-"

You end the call, turning back to your laptop. Three races left. Three chances to prove everyone wrong. No more distractions, no more letting your guard down.

You'll do it the only way that matters in F1 - on track, where lap times speak louder than friendly texts, and championship points mean more than shared coffee breaks.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You've managed three weeks. Three weeks of perfectly crafted indifference, of calling him "the Williams driver" in interviews, of taking different routes through the paddock just to avoid those chance encounters that used to make your heart skip. Three weeks of pretending you don't miss his stupid sparkle messages, or the way he always saves you a coffee during early practice sessions.

But now your hands won't stop shaking as you stare at your dark phone screen, trying to ignore the screens showing the mangled Williams in the Las Vegas Strip. You've watched the replay seventeen times without meaning to, each time feeling your heart stop at the impact.

"This is getting ridiculous," Max's voice is quiet beside you, making you jump. You didn't even hear him approach. "Stop with this nonsense."

"I'm fine," you respond automatically, thumb still pretending to scroll on your black screen. "Just checking the timing sheets."

"Your phone isn't even on." Max's hand appears, gently taking the phone from your trembling grip. "They've taken him to UMC. Just go."

"I can't," you whisper, finally looking up at your teammate. You hate how your voice catches. "Everyone will—"

"Who cares what everyone will say?" Max interrupts, already reaching for your bag. "Hannah's got a car waiting. Go."

"I don't want to," you protest weakly, but even you can hear how unconvincing it sounds. "I don't need to—"

"Stop," Max's voice is firm but gentle. "You're not going back to this. Not after everything. You care about him, stop pretending you don't."

You take a shaky breath, then nod once. You're out of the garage before you can change your mind and rebuild those walls you've spent three weeks perfecting. Because Max is right – you do care. You care so much it terrifies you. And right now, nothing else matters except knowing he's okay.

You hate hospitals. You've spent too many hours in them after your own crashes, but somehow this is worse. Standing outside his room, you're suddenly unsure of everything. Three weeks of carefully constructed distance seems ridiculous now.

"You can come in instead of hovering at the door," Franco's voice carries from inside, slightly hoarse but still holding that hint of amusement that always used to drive you crazy. "Unless you're planning to run away again."

You step inside, trying to maintain some composure even as your heart clenches at the sight of him. "I wasn't running away," you say automatically, but it sounds weak even to your ears.

"No?" He raises an eyebrow, wincing slightly at the movement. "So you just happened to take different paddock routes?"

"Franco—"

"It's back to Franco now? Not 'the Williams driver'?" There's hurt beneath his teasing tone, and it makes your chest tight. "That last interview was particularly cold, by the way. Very convincing."

You stay by the door, arms crossed. "I thought that's what everyone wanted. Space. Distance. Rivalry."

"You're here now though."

"Max made me come," you lie.

"Sure he did." Franco's small smile tells you he sees right through you. "Nothing to do with how many times you asked if I was okay over the radio?"

You feel your cheeks heat up. Of course he's heard the radio already. "I would have asked about any driver."

"YN," his voice softens, and it breaks something in you. "Stop pretending. Please. I miss my friend."

The last words hit you hard, and you finally let your arms drop, taking a step closer. "I miss you too," you whisper, and it feels like admitting defeat and victory all at once. "I was so scared when I saw the crash."

"Come here," he says quietly, patting the edge of the bed.

You hesitate for just a moment before crossing the room, carefully sitting beside him. "I'm sorry," you say softly. "For these past weeks. For being harsh. For—"

"I know," he interrupts, his hand finding yours. "I know. But you're here now."

You squeeze his hand gently, feeling the walls you've built crumbling completely. "You could have died today and I would have never—" you stop yourself, running your thumb over his knuckles without thinking. "All because of this stupid seat."

Franco's quiet for a moment, then lets out a small laugh that turns into a wince. "Is that what you think? That I'm after your seat?"

"Aren't you?" You try to pull your hand away but he holds on. "The meetings with Christian, the—"

"YN," he interrupts, waiting until you look at him. "I never got any offers from RedBull.”

You freeze. "What?"

"I'm not taking your seat," he says softly. "In fact, I still don't have a seat."

"But...the meetings with Horner?" You're struggling to process this. "He basically told me they were considering options for next season, and those options were you in my seat."

"Sounds to me that he was pressuring you." His eyes hold yours. "My team had meetings with RedBull, yes. But we never got a solid offer, not even for VCARB."

You feel slightly dizzy. Three weeks of avoiding him, of building up walls, of convincing yourself he was just another driver trying to take your seat...

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?" you finally manage.

"Well, you've taken the long way through the paddock just to avoid me," he teases, then becomes serious. "I wouldn't hurt you like that. You know that. Or at least, you used to."

"I got scared," you admit quietly. "When I heard about the meetings, I just... it was easier to push you away than to admit that I care about you."

The silence that follows feels heavy with everything unsaid. Finally, Franco squeezes your hand gently.

"Well," he says softly, "nearly dying seems to have worked out well for me then."

"That's not funny," but you're fighting a smile.

"Made you come see me though, didn't it?"

"I hate you," but there's no heat in it.

"No, you don't," he says confidently. "You just admitted you care about me. No taking it back now."

You roll your eyes but don't deny it. "How are you feeling, really?"

"Like I crashed a car at 200mph," he grins, then softens. "Better now though."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1 and 1,908,479 others

yourinstagram champion x4 🏆so proud to be part of this journey. no one deserves it more than you @/maxverstappen1. thank you for being the best teammate anyone could ask for, on and off track.

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username1 IM CRYINGGGGG

username2 this is my family

maxverstappen1 Couldn't ask for a better teammate and bonus little sister. Thanks for having my back all season 💪🏻

↳ username1 HE SAID SHE'LL ALWAYS BE MY TEAMMATE

danielricciardo Look at my kids making me proud 🥹

christianhorner Fantastic team effort all year. Proud of both of you.

↳ username1 FIX HER CAR AND STOP FEEDING HER TO THE PRESS!!

username5 the way max waited to celebrate until she crossed the finish line

username6 remember when they said they wouldn't get along

username7 brother sister energy we love to see it

francolapinto Amazing work 🙌

↳ username8 bro ready to take her seat

username9 their relationship is too pure. max adores her like she's his little sister and yn would take a murder charge for him pretty much

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

After showering and changing post-race, you're walking back to your hotel room when your phone buzzes. Franco's name lights up the screen: "Hey... could you come to my room? Need to get my mind off today. Room 412."

You hesitate only briefly before responding. After everything that's happened - the crash, the hospital, the conversations that followed - things between you have felt different.

Qatar had been grueling, you managed to score a solid P4 but the story for Franco had been different. He was part of a collision during turn one that ended his race right there. You heard it on the radio and your heart couldn't help but ache for him.

When you knock, Franco opens the door looking drained, his usual spark dimmed by the day's events. He's changed into soft sweatpants and a team shirt, hair still damp from his shower.

"That bad, huh?" you say softly, following him into the room.

He drops onto the bed with a sigh. "First lap incidents are the worst. All that preparation, all those hours in the sim… gone in seconds."

You settle into the armchair across from him. "I saw the replay. That wasn't your fault - Hulkenberg came across way too aggressively."

"Doesn't matter whose fault it was. Points are points, and I need them." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you've come to recognize as stress. "The pressure's getting intense. Everyone keeps asking about next year's plans, and I just… I don't know."

"Hey," you say gently, moving to sit beside him. "You're one of the most talented drivers out there. Everyone sees it."

"Do they?" His voice is uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Because right now it feels like every mistake is being magnified. One DNF and suddenly everyone's questioning if I deserve the seat."

"I know that feeling too well," you admit. "I mean, I spent three weeks avoiding you because I thought you were after my seat."

That draws a small laugh from him. "Not my finest moment in the hospital, guilt-tripping you about it."

"It worked though, didn't it?" you nudge his shoulder playfully, "Plus, I guilt tripped you about Logan's seat for the longest time, it's only fair."

"Yeah, well, I was desperate. Do you know how hard it was watching you take different routes through the paddock just to avoid me?"

"About as hard as it was taking those routes," you say softly. "I missed you."

"You did manage to find some creative paths though," he teases, his mood lightening slightly. "I particularly enjoyed watching you duck behind Lando in the airport."

"I did not duck!"

"You absolutely did. Practically dove behind him. Poor guy had no idea why you suddenly needed an urgent conversation about sim settings."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "Well, what about you? Mr. 'Oh sorry, I didn't see you there' when we literally made eye contact in the media pen?"

"That was Oscar's fault! He told me my hair looked weird and I got distracted."

"Your hair always looks weird."

He gasps in mock offense. "Take that back! This hair has its own fan accounts."

"Yeah, horror fan accounts maybe," you tease.

"Says the person who needed my expert braiding skills before races."

"Which you learned from your sisters, if I remember correctly?"

His expression softens. "Actually… I might have YouTube'd it after Mexico."

That catches you off guard. "You… what?"

"Yeah," he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking sheepish. "Spent like three hours practicing on a rope I found in the gym. Alex caught me and wouldn't stop laughing."

"That's…" you feel something warm bloom in your chest. "That's actually really sweet."

"Don't tell anyone," he grins. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"Oh yeah? What reputation is that?"

"You know, cool, mysterious, definitely not the type to watch hair braiding tutorials."

You laugh. "Hate to break it to you, but anyone who's seen you try to work the coffee machine knows you're not mysterious."

"That machine is complicated!"

"It has three buttons!"

"Three very confusing buttons," he protests. "Besides, you're the one who always shows up right when I'm struggling with it."

"Pure coincidence."

"Right," he smirks. "Just like how you 'coincidentally' started showing up earlier to breakfast after I mentioned that's when I usually go?"

You feel your cheeks warm again. "I just… wanted to beat the rush."

"The rush of exactly two other drivers who eat that early?"

"Shut up," you mutter, but you're smiling.

The air between you changes, becomes charged with everything unsaid. You're suddenly very aware of how close you're sitting, how his eyes have dropped to your lips.

He doesn't say anything else, instead, he leans forward and kisses you, soft and careful, like he's afraid you might pull away. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you feel yourself melting into the touch.

When he pulls back, you blink at him, slightly dazed. "You kissed me."

His familiar smirk returns, though his eyes remain soft. "Well done, Sherlock."

You roll your eyes at his sass, but can't help smiling. This time, you're the one who leans in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss is deeper, more certain. His hand slides into your hair as you press closer, and you feel him smile against your mouth.

"You know," he says softly, playing with a strand of your hair, "besides being one of my racing idols, you've also always been my crush."

You pull back slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Don't let it go to your head," he grins.

"Oh my god," you laugh. "You were such a fan! Did you have posters too?"

He groans, hiding his face in your shoulder. "I'm never telling you anything again."

"No, no, this is great," you tease. "I'm just a year and a half older than you, Colapinto, and you completely idolized me."

"I hate you," he mumbles into your shoulder.

"No you don't," you say confidently. "You just admitted you had a crush on me."

He lifts his head, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. "Still do, actually. Although the real you is much more annoying than poster you."

"Poster me didn't call you out on your coffee machine struggles."

"Poster you was much nicer," he agrees, but he's smiling as he leans in to kiss you again.

This kiss is slower, deeper, filled with everything you've both been holding back. When you finally pull apart, you rest your forehead against his.

"Been wanting to do that for a while," he admits softly.

"Even when I was avoiding you? Or giving you crap to defend my best friend's honor?"

"Especially then. Do you know how adorable you looked trying to pretend you didn't see me in the paddock?"

"Shut up," you laugh.

"Never," he grins, pulling you closer. "I have years of fan stories to make up for."

You kiss him again just to shut him up, but you can feel him smiling against your lips, and you think maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you're meant to be.

"You're never going to let me live down the fan thing, are you?" he asks when you break apart.

"Not a chance," you smirk. "I bet Alex has pictures of you practicing those braids too."

"Don't you dare!"

But you're already reaching for your phone, laughing as he tries to grab it from you, and somehow you end up tangled together on the bed, both laughing too hard to care about anything else.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You're halfway through your coffee when Franco appears, wearing his team polo and that signature grin that used to irritate you but now makes your stomach flutter. It's still surreal how much has changed - from despising him for taking Logan's seat, to avoiding him over your seat rumors, to… whatever this is now. He slides into the seat next to you, leaning in for a kiss. You quickly place a hand on his chest, pushing him back playfully.

"Easy there, hotshot," you tease. "Let's keep it professional."

"Professional?" He raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, don't be shy now. Not after last week."

You feel your cheeks warm at the memory. "Last week was different. We were alone."

"Oh, so that's the rule? Only when we're alone?" He leans closer, lowering his voice. "Should we discuss what else happened when we were alone?"

"Franco!" You swat his arm, but you're fighting a smile.

"What? I'm just saying, for someone who used to avoid me like I had the plague, you sure changed your tune."

"Yeah, well," you stir your coffee, trying to maintain your composure, "turns out you're not as annoying as I thought."

"High praise," he chuckles. "Remember when you wouldn't even look at me in driver briefings?"

"Remember when you replaced my best friend and then tried to steal my seat?"

"I didn't try to steal your seat!" he protests. "That was all media speculation."

Before you can respond, Max drops into the seat across from you, already looking amused at finding you two together.

"Well, well," he says, reaching for the coffee pot. "If it isn't my favorite teammate and her… what are we calling this now?"

You roll your eyes. "We're calling it none of Max's business."

"Everything is Max's business," Max says cheerfully. "Especially when said business involves my teammate getting cozy with the competition."

Franco's phone buzzes and his expression shifts slightly as he reads the message, and you catch that flicker of worry he's been trying to hide all weekend. The weight of it being potentially his last race in F1 has been hanging over both of you.

"Engineers?" you ask softly.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Last pre-race meeting of the season. Hopefully not my last ever," he adds, attempting a joke that falls flat.

You reach for his hand under the table, giving it a quick squeeze. "Hey, you've shown what you can do this year. The pace is there, the talent is there-"

"The results aren't," he cuts in, running his free hand through his hair. "DNF and crashes don't exactly scream 'keep me for next year.'"

"The car's been shit though," Max speaks up, "Everyone knows that. You've outqualified your teammate and scored points."

"Try telling that to the team principals," Franco says, attempting a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Anyway, better go before they add 'chronically late' to my resume." He stands, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "See you later?"

"Of course," you say softly. "Good luck in the meeting."

Once Franco leaves, Max leans forward, "Okay, spill. Everything. Now."

"There's nothing to spill."

"Nothing to spill?" Max scoffs. "Last month you were convinced he was plotting to take your seat, and now he's kissing you goodbye at breakfast? That's not nothing."

"You don't need to know everything about my life, Max," you try to busy yourself with your coffee, that's pretty much cold by now.

"I'm the older brother you never wanted but got stuck with anyway, so I do need to know about these things."

You sigh, knowing he won't let this go. "Fine. After Qatar, things changed. We… spent time together."

"Spent time together?" Max wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not like that!" you protest, then lower your voice. "Well, not just like that. We talked a lot. About everything again - the rumors, the misunderstandings, why I was so angry about Logan, and… I don't know. It's different now. Good different. When I'm with him, everything just feels…" you trail off, searching for the right words.

"Right?" Max supplies, his teasing tone softening.

"Yeah," you admit. "Which makes this whole situation even harder. If he doesn't get a seat…"

"Then you'll figure it out," Max says, "But let's not write him off yet. Season's not over until the checkered flag."

You nod, but can't help glancing at the door Franco left through. "You know what's ironic?" you say, turning back to Max. "A few months ago, I was worried about him taking my seat. Now I'd give anything for him to have one, anywhere on the grid."

Max smiles knowingly. "Amazing what a few kisses can do."

"It's not just that," you protest. "He deserves to be here. He's so talented-"

"And you're completely smitten," Max interrupts, grinning.

"Shut up," You throw a napkin at him. "I'm getting a new teammate next year," you declare.

"No you're not," Max laughs. "You love me." He pauses, suddenly looking both nervous and excited. "Actually… want to know a secret?"

Something in his tone makes you lean forward. "Always."

"Kelly's pregnant," he says, a huge grin spreading across his face. "We just found out last month"

You practically leap across the table to hug him, nearly knocking over both your coffees in the process. "Oh my god! Max! I'm going to be an auntie!"

He laughs, hugging you back. "Actually…" he pulls back slightly to look at you, "What do you think about being a godmother?"

Your eyes widen. "Are you serious?"

"Of course," he grins. "Who else would I trust to teach my kid how to properly terrorize the paddock?"

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm going to spoil them so much," you warn, hugging him again. "Like, an absolutely ridiculous amount."

"I know," he laughs. "That's kind of counting on it."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Just family for now," he says. "And you, obviously. Because you are family."

You're definitely crying now. "I hate you for making me cry before a race weekend."

"Sure you do," he grins. "Just like you hate Franco, right?"

You wipe your eyes, deciding to ignore his comment. "God, I can't believe you're going to be a dad!"

"Me neither," he admits, and there's something soft and vulnerable in his expression that makes your heart squeeze. "It's scary but… in a good way, you know?"

"You're going to be amazing," you tell him seriously. "The best dad ever."

His smile turns mischievous. "Just wait until Franco gets you pregnant-"

"And that's my cue to leave," you gather your things. "Congratulations again, future dad. I love you, even when you're the worst."

His laughter follows you out of the room. "Love you too, future godmother!"

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liked by maxverstappen1, francolapinto and 2,099,437 others

yourinstagram ABU DHABI WINNER! 🏆✨ still feels surreal to type those words. to win the last race of the season, after everything… no words can describe this feeling. thank you to every single person who never stopped believing in me, even when things got tough. to my incredible team - this one's for you. we did it! 🧡

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username1 SHE FUCKING DID IT

username2 first win of the season in the last race - poetic justice

username3 the way everyone doubted her at the start of the season and now look at her QUEEN BEHAVIOR

logansargeant YESSSS! That move was legendary! So proud of you!

username4 this feels so RIGHT

francolapinto Mi campeona 🖤 That last lap move was 🔥

↳ username1 IM CRYING OMFG

↳ username2 THEY'RE SO TOGETHER I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

username5 brb i'll be crying while i watch that video of her hugging franco

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You're still riding the high of your Abu Dhabi win as you unlock your apartment door. Your first win of the season, in the last race - it feels poetic, somehow. Like a final "fuck you" to everyone who doubted you, who questioned your seat, who spent the entire season speculating about your future.

The trophy sits in your bag, along with the champagne bottle Charles insisted you keep. Franco follows you in, still wearing that soft smile he's had since he watched you cross the finish line.

He's staying at your apartment since he doesn't have a place in Monaco and the now traditional drivers dinner is happening, after all you time together, inviting him over felt...natural.

The past few days have been a whirlwind - the podium, the celebrations, the multiple kisses stolen in your motorhome between media duties. The flight to Monaco where you both pretended to sleep but kept "accidentally" touching hands. It should feel fast, rushed, but somehow it just feels right.

"Still can't believe you pulled that move on the last lap," Franco says, dropping his bags by the door. "Even Max was impressed, I think you broke his brain a little."

"Speaking of broken, try not to destroy anything while you're here," you tease. "Some of us actually live in Monaco full-time."

Franco turns to you with mock offense. "When have I ever broken anything?"

"Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically?" you raise an eyebrow. "Because I distinctly remember a certain incident with Lewis' scooter…"

"That was a manufacturing defect and you know it," he protests, moving closer.

"Sure it was," you laugh. "Just like the tablet in Singapore was a 'technical malfunction'?"

He's close enough now that you can smell his cologne, the same one that's been driving you crazy since Qatar. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Never," you confirm, but your voice comes out softer than intended because he's looking at you the way he has been since that first kiss in his room - like you're something precious.

"Guest room's down the hall," you say quickly, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "Bathroom's across from it, you know the drill."

Franco raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes that you're starting to know too well. "You're really going to make me take the guest room? After all our bonding?"

"Bonding?" you scoff. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Well, what would you call making out in your motorhome? And the plane bathroom? And-"

You cut him off by pressing your hand to his mouth. "Those were… moments of weakness."

He kisses your palm before moving your hand, and the simple gesture shouldn't make your heart race like it does. "Lots of moments."

"I was emotionally vulnerable," you argue weakly.

"Uh-huh," he steps closer, backing you against the wall. "And now?Are you emotionally vulnerable now?" His hands find your waist, and you try to ignore how right they feel there.

"I'm…" you start, but then he's kissing you, slow and deep, and you forget what you were going to say.

When he pulls back, you're both breathing heavily. "We should get ready for dinner," you manage.

"We should," he agrees, but kisses you again.

"Franco," you mumble against his lips. "We're already late."

"Five more minutes," he murmurs, trailing kisses down your neck.

It ends up being fifteen minutes before you finally push him away, your lips swollen and hair slightly messed up.

"Guest room," you point firmly. "Get changed."

He grins, stealing one last quick kiss before grabbing his bag. "Yes, boss."

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yourinstagram has added to their close friends story

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You arrive at Lewis' Monaco penthouse a fashionably acceptable ten minutes late, Franco's hand resting casually on your lower back as the elevator opens to the top floor. The space is already filled with the familiar chatter of your fellow drivers, the city lights twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Look who finally made it," Charles calls out, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Got lost on the way from your apartment? It's only three blocks…"

"Traffic," you say smoothly, ignoring Franco's poorly concealed laugh beside you.

"Must have been terrible," Alex joins in, eyes twinkling. "Considering you live literally around the corner."

Lewis appears, saving you from having to respond. He hugs you warmly before turning to Franco with a grin. "No scooters allowed inside this time, mate."

"That was one time!" Franco protests as everyone laughs. "And it was definitely faulty manufacturing."

The evening flows easily, conversation and wine flowing freely as everyone celebrates the end of another season. You find yourself constantly aware of Franco's presence - the way he automatically hands you your favorite wine, how his hand finds yours under the table, the soft looks he gives you when he thinks no one's watching.

(They're all watching. These are racing drivers - subtlety isn't their strong suit.)

"Get together, everyone!" you call out later, holding up your phone. "I want a picture."

There's the usual chaos of twenty-odd drivers trying to arrange themselves, plenty of shoving and laughing as everyone finds their spot. Franco ends up behind you, his chest pressed against your back, hands resting lightly on your waist.

"Alright, someone else take it," Lando announces. "YN's too busy making heart eyes at Franco to frame it properly."

"I am not-"

"You kind of are," Pierre interrupts with a grin.

"Just like in Abu Dhabi," Oscar adds. "And the flight home. And baggage claim. And-"

"I hate all of you."

The night continues with more conversation, more drinks, and constant teasing from your friends. Even Charles joins in, muttering something about "finally dealing with all that sexual tension in the briefings."

By the time you leave, you're both pleasantly tipsy, walking back to your apartment with slightly unsteady steps. The moment your door closes behind you, the atmosphere shifts.

"So," he says finally, stepping closer. "About that guest room…"

"What about it?" you ask, but you're already moving toward him.

"I'm thinking," he cups your face with one hand, "that it would be a shame to use it."

"Would it?"

"Mhmm," he's close enough now that you can feel his breath on your lips. "Especially when the winner deserves proper celebrations."

"Or maybe you're just being a horndog," you tease, even as your hands find their way to his chest.

"Maybe," he concedes. "Or maybe I just can't stop thinking about kissing you."

Your breath catches. "You've already kissed me plenty today."

"Not enough," he murmurs, then proves his point by capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is different from all the others. Those were stolen moments, quick and heated. This is slower, deeper, like he's trying to memorize every second.

"Don't make me take the guest room," he murmurs against your lips.

You pretend to think about it, even as your hands slip under his shirt. "Well, since you asked so nicely…"

"I can be very nice," he grins, then kisses you again, backing you toward your bedroom.

"Prove it," you challenge.

The guest room remains empty that night. And many nights after.

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liked by pierregasly, francolapinto and 2,044,387 others

yourinstagram i love my little dysfunctional family !! yes i'm the one behind the camera

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username1 THIS IS LEGENDARY

username3 FRANCO'S FACE ??? DEVASTATED BC HIS GIRL IS NOT NEXT TO HIM

lewishamilton Always family ❤️

oscarpiastri Never sitting between you and your lover boy again..

↳ username1 HUH??

↳ username2 oscar spill the deets PLEASE

↳ logansargeant to the gc NOW

↳ username3 LET ME INNNNN

↳ username4 im crying

↳ yourinstagram i hate you both

francolapinto ❤️

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yn's biggest fans groupchat

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You're curled up on your couch, watching the lights of Monaco twinkle through your window as snow falls softly outside. Franco's just finished unpacking his bags, having arrived from Argentina an hour ago. The past weeks without him felt strangely empty, even though you'd been surrounded by family for Christmas.

"Mama keeps asking about the foods I mentioned you cook," Franco says, settling beside you with a grin. "She's convinced I'm making it up."

"Did you tell her it's mostly pasta and those empanadas you taught me to make?"

"Si, but she says my standards have dropped since moving to Europe," he laughs, stealing some of your blanket. "How was your family?"

"Good. Dad's still buzzing about Abu Dhabi. He's watched the replay about fifty times, especially that last lap battle with Max," you grin, throwing your legs over his lap. "How was home?"

"Hot," he sighs contentedly. "Really hot. Nothing like a proper Argentinian summer."

"Meanwhile I was freezing in London," you poke his side. "Speaking of which… don't you have some news to share?"

He raises an eyebrow. "How did you-"

"Carlos texted me. He's terrible at keeping secrets."

Franco runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you've come to recognize. "I signed with Williams. As their reserve driver for next season, there's talk about 2026, but nothing concrete yet."

"Franco!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around him. "That's amazing!"

He hugs you back, letting out a relieved laugh. "You think so?"

"Of course I do!" you pull back to look at him. "Williams is doing great things, and with Carlos and Alex there…" you trail off, seeing something in his expression. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing bad," he assures quickly. "Just… I'll be based in England a lot. For simulator work and development."

"Oh," you say quietly, understanding dawning. You'd gotten used to having him here, in your space, in the paddock, in your life.

"Hey," he tilts your chin up. "It's not that far. And I'll still be at all the races. Plus," his lips quirk up, "I hear Nice has a pretty good airport."

You can't help but smile. "True. And I suppose I could be convinced to visit Grove occasionally."

"Only occasionally?" he teases.

"Well, I am very busy and important," you say loftily, making him laugh.

His eyes drop to your lips. "I'm sure you can save some time for me," he murmurs before closing the distance between you.

The kiss is soft and familiar, like coming home after a long trip. When you pull back, he's wearing that small smile that always makes your stomach flip.

You settle back against him, comfortable silence falling between you. "Talk to me about next season," he says eventually. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Honestly? I'm nervous," you admit. "Abu Dhabi was amazing, but what if it was just luck? What if I can't do it again?"

"The same way Suzuka was luck? And Singapore? And that insane qualifying in Baku?" Franco shifts to look at you properly, "You've been fast all season. Abu Dhabi just proved what everyone already knew."

"Smooth," you laugh, then remember something. "Oh! Speaking of next year - what are you doing for New Year's Eve?"

"Nothing yet. Why?"

"Logan's throwing a party in Florida for his birthday. Want to come?"

Franco hesitates. "Won't that be…"

"What? Weird because you stole his seat?" you tease, making him groan.

"I thought we cleared that up months ago," he protests.

"We did, I just like messing with you," you grin. "Come on, it'll be fun. There'll be cake."

“You know my weakness,” he sighs dramatically. “Does this mean I get to kiss you at midnight?”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be my midnight kiss,” you tease, even as you lean into him.

“No? Planning on kissing someone else?” he raises an eyebrow, hands settling on your waist.

“Maybe. Logan might have a hot friend…”

"Terrible," he murmurs against your lips. "You're terrible."

"You like it," you whisper back, just before he kisses you again.

When you finally break apart, he's already reaching for the remote. "Want to watch Qatar?"

You groan, but you're smiling. "I hate you."

"No you don't," he says confidently, pulling up the race highlights.

And as he starts his terrible commentary, making you laugh despite yourself, you think about how easy this is - whatever this is between you. No labels, no pressure, just… this.

Outside, Monaco continues to sparkle under the falling snow, but in here, with Franco's warmth beside you and his voice in your ear pointing out "that brilliant move you did in turn 4" for the hundredth time, you think maybe some things don't need defining to be perfect.

Plus, you already know who your midnight kiss is going to be. Not that you'll tell him that - his ego's big enough as it is.

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liked by username1, username2 and 12,870 others

f1gossip Spotted: F1's power couple enjoying a day out in Monaco! Franco Colapinto and YN were seen strolling around today, looking very cozy! The pair, who have been subject to dating rumors seemed to have no interest in hiding their relationship anymore.

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username1 THE FUUUUUCK

username2 i don't like this..

username3 FRANCO GET AWAYYYY she's going to distract him

username4 why is this lowkey powerful

username5 THIS PLOT TWIST OMFG

username6 i thought they hated each other ??

username7 oh how the tables have turned

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Music pulses from Logan's Miami beach house as you and Franco make your way up the palm-lined driveway. The December air is surprisingly warm, fairy lights twinkling in every tree and reflecting off the pool visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your hand is loosely intertwined with Franco's, something that still gives you butterflies even after weeks of... whatever this is between you.

"Birthday boy!" you call out as Logan spots you from the entrance, where he's greeting guests in a ridiculous party hat and an even more ridiculous Hawaiian shirt.

"If it isn't my best friend and the guy who stole my seat," Logan grins, pulling you into a tight hug before turning to Franco with an exaggerated suspicious look that quickly breaks into a genuine smile. "Good to see you, man."

"Happy birthday," Franco offers with a grin, accepting Logan's enthusiastic handshake-turned-hug. "Nice shirt."

"Right? YN said it was terrible, but what does she know about fashion?"

"Hey!" you protest, but you're laughing. "I have great taste."

Logan's eyes drift meaningfully to your joined hands. "Clearly," he smirks, making you blush and Franco chuckle. "Drinks are everywhere, food's by the pool, try not to fall in."

"That was one time," you mutter as Logan gets pulled away by more arriving guests.

Franco raises an eyebrow. "One time?"

"Don't ask. Come on, I need a drink before I tell you that story."

After getting drinks, you find yourself drifting between groups, Franco's hand a constant presence at the small of your back or linked with yours. It's nice, you think, not having to overthink every interaction, every touch. Here, away from the paddock and the cameras, you can just... be.

It's about an hour into the party when Logan finds you again, now sporting two party hats and what looks suspiciously like glitter on his cheek.

"Stinks! Just the person I wanted to see," he announces, dragging you away from where Franco is deep in conversation with Alex. "Back in five," he tells Franco with an exaggerated wink that makes you roll your eyes.

"Subtle," you comment as Logan leads you to the makeshift bar.

"Please, subtle went out the window when you two showed up holding hands like teenagers at prom," he snorts, mixing drinks with practiced ease. "Speaking of which..."

"Don't start," you warn, but you're fighting a smile.

"Me? Start something? Never," he puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I just find it interesting that the same person who spent three hours ranting to me about 'that arrogant Argentine who stole your seat' is now making heart eyes at him across my party."

"You're impossible."

"And you're happy," he says softly, his teasing tone giving way to something more sincere. "Like, really happy. I haven't seen you like this in… well, ever."

You look down at your drink, feeling your cheeks warm. "Yeah, well…"

"Hey," Logan nudges your shoulder. "It's a good thing. You deserve this, YN. Someone who gets you, who understands the pressure and the crazy schedule and still looks at you like you hung the moon."

"He doesn't-"

"He absolutely does. Trust me, I've been watching him watch you all night. It's disgustingly cute."

"I'm kind of scared, Logan," you look down at your hands nervously, "Six months ago, I hated him. And now I can't picture myself apart from him. It's all happening really fast and I'm not quite sure when everything shifted, but I feel like there's no going back now. And that's terrifies me."

"Stinks," Logan says gently, "you didn't hate him. You were hurt because of how everything went down with the seat, and you projected that onto him. I get being scared. This sport… it complicates things. But I've seen how he looks at you and how you look at him. It's okay to have feelings for him."

"How do you always know what to say?" you look up at him.

"Because I'm your best friend," he squeezes your shoulder. "Now go get your man. And please kiss him at midnight so I can win the bet with Alex."

"You bet on us?!"

"The whole grid did. I have fifty bucks riding on tonight!"

Later, as midnight approaches, you find yourself on the beach with Franco, fairy lights and stars twinkling above. Your conversation with Logan keeps playing in your mind, making you fidgety.

"You okay?" Franco asks softly, touching your arm.

"FIVE MINUTES!" someone shouts from the house.

"I have feelings for you," you blurt out. "Like, real feelings. And I know it's fast and complicated and I was horrible to you at first because I was hurt about the seat thing but then you were so nice and understanding and you brought me coffee after bad practice sessions and you defended me to the press and you make me laugh even when I'm trying to be mad and your accent gets thicker when you're tired which is unfairly adorable and-"

"THREE MINUTES!"

"-and sometimes I catch you looking at me in debriefs and it makes me forget what I'm saying and Oscar keeps making these knowing faces at us and I pretend to be annoyed but actually I kind of like it and-"

"SIXTY SECONDS!"

"-and I know this could complicate everything but I can't stop thinking about you and the way you smile when you see me in the morning and how you remember how I like my coffee and-"

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"

"-and maybe this is crazy but I really really like you and I know we should probably talk about what this means for next season but-"

"FOUR! THREE!"

"-and I just needed you to know-"

"TWO! ONE!"

Franco cuts off your rambling with a kiss, one hand cupping your face while the other pulls you closer. You melt into him as fireworks explode overhead, your heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the celebration around you.

When he pulls back, he's wearing that soft smile that always makes your stomach flip. "You're so cute when you rant."

"I don't rant," you protest weakly.

"Mi amor, you just spent ten minutes listing all the things you like about me, including my accent."

"Shut up."

He laughs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I want to be with you, YN. Officially, properly, no more undefined territory. I want everyone to know that you're mine and I'm yours. I want morning coffees and post-race celebrations and quiet moments like this. I want all of it, with you."

"Yeah?" you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

"Yeah," he confirms, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "I'm crazy about you, in case my terrible attempts at flirting haven't made that obvious."

"Your flirting isn't terrible."

He kisses you again, laughing against your lips. "So… is that a yes?"

You pretend to think about it. "I don't know, Logan's friend is looking pretty good tonight…"

"Terrible," he murmurs, pulling you impossibly closer. "You're terrible."

"You like it," you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I like everything about you."

Your heart skips. "Everything?"

"Everything," he confirms. "Even your terrible taste in coffee."

You laugh, bright and happy, before pulling him down for another kiss. Around you, the party continues, music and waves and distant fireworks creating a perfect backdrop to this moment. When you finally break apart, you're both breathless and smiling.

"Happy New Year," you murmur.

"The happiest," he agrees, and as he leans in again, you think that maybe some feelings are worth being scared of, especially when they lead to moments like this.

Plus, you just won Logan a bet. Not that you'll tell him that.

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