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eternally-racing · 2 months

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kiss it better | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x reader

genre: fluff, smut (minors DNI)

warning: oral sex (m! receiving)

wc: 1.3k

summary: When you’re taking care of Lance after his biking injuries there’s a special place where he really wants you to kiss it better.

author’s note: yes, this is 100% inspired from me watching DTS and Lance’s scene with Lando LOL

- - -

The last 2 weeks had been an insane rollercoaster for you and Lance. What had started off as a fun experience biking with friends in Spain had turned into a nightmare as you and Lance spent the rest of your trip in the hospital.

You had been Lance’s angel throughout all of the recovery from his wrist injuries. Never before had either of you really thought about how much you do with your hands and feet, until you realized that it meant that Lance couldn't really do anything until the doctors had determined that he was recovered enough. “It would take more than a lifetime for me to repay you for this, baby” Lance always says as you help him out around the house. You truly didn’t mind it - doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. “We do it for the people we love” you would always say. It’s because you knew that if the tables were turned that Lance would do the exact same for you, taking care of you 24/7 until you felt better.

Your generosity is what makes Lance feel especially guilty. In the last 2 weeks he had been nothing more than a couch potato while you seemed to balance ten thousand responsibilities. You were already doing so much for him, how could you possibly ask for more? But you were walking around the house in the tiniest little shorts and a bralette that really felt like it barely counted as actually covering your chest. Lance definitely wasn’t complaining but looking at you was weakening his resolve with every passing day. Today you had taken to putting away the laundry, and with every time you bent over he could feel his boxers start to tighten. It was getting unbearable really, and the horniness in Lance’s brain was making it short circuit.

“Y/N baby, can I get your help with something?”

It feels like you’re there at his bedside before he can even blink. Your doe eyes are looking at him in a way that makes him want to give you the whole universe and it’s enough to make Lance want to bail on his request.

“No, actually I changed my mind I don't need - “

“Baby, please - I’m here to help you. What do you need?” You perch yourself on the edge of his bed, busying yourself but organizing some things on the nightstand. Lance’s cheeks are bright red but now he can barely look you in the eye.

“It’s just been a really long time since I… yknow.” Lance glances down only slightly but it’s enough to give you an idea of what’s going on.

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

“Well, I think there’s something that I could do about that.” you smirk slightly.

Your hand slowly creeps towards where you know his cock lies under the bedsheets, and you gasp when you feel how hard it already is in your hands. You lean further down, laying your head so close, but still so far from where Lance wants you to be.

“No teasing baby” he mutters as he has to resist running a hand through your hair himself. The casts covering both his hands serve as a stark reminder of why he can’t do so even though he so badly wants to. You’re placing soft little kisses over top of the blanket, leaving the layers between you two as you creep closer towards his hardened length.

“I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before honestly. Like what were you going to do - suck your dick yourself?”

You have your hands laid across Lance’s thighs and you feel them clench at the statement, which makes your jaw drop in response.

“Oh my god, you’ve totally tried to suck your own dick before. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of. If I wasn’t so horny right now I would make you tell me the story right now, but I definitely want to hear all about this later.” you laugh while still continuing your ministrations.

Your monologue gets a little long and Lance throws his head back and whines. When you pull back the covers and his boxers, Lance’s cock is the hardest you’ve ever seen it - the precum that sneaks out of the head only adds to your arousal as you lick your lips in anticipation . When you run your fingers over it gently it’s enough to make the Canadian boy shudder. You take your time as you kiss up and down the inside of his thighs, running your tongue over everywhere except where he needs you most.

“Please Y/N - I’ll beg, I’ll do anything. I’m just a guy who hasn’t cum in over 2 weeks and has the most beautiful girl in the world on his knees in front of him - I might just cum the minute you touch me.”

It’s music to your ears when you hear Lance moan as you lower your mouth onto his cock. You know his body so well that you know exactly what to do to have him seeing stars. His cock is hitting the back of your throat already and Lance can’t help the way his hips buck his cock further into you. Your hands come around to cover up the part of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth, working in tandem to make sure that you’re covering every single inch.

“You’re taking me so well princess, feels so fucking good.” Lance is filled with nothing but praise for you as your head bobs up and down on his length.

You’re gasping for air as you finally lift your head off Lance’s dick. You take it in your hands and slap your cheek a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. It’s when you reach to cup his balls in your hand that Lance truly feels like he’s in heaven, and he says exactly that. Even in your hands they feel full, so full of cum, and you can’t help but let out a moan yourself at the feeling. You give them each the attention they deserve before Lance begs for you to go back to his cock.

You can feel Lance’s hips start to stutter underneath you as he starts to lose control.

“Oh god Y/N I’m gonna cum, fucking hell.” Lance tries to lift your mouth off of him, telling you that he’ll cum wherever you’d like. There was no surprise that Lance was a tits man through and through and loved seeing thick ropes of his cum over your breasts. Sometimes you’d want it on your face, sticking your tongue out the catch as much cum as you can. But today you kept your head down, ignoring Lance’s warnings as you kept your nose buried firmly towards his pubic bone.

“Princess I’m really gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck” Lance keeps chanting your name as he cums.

There’s so much cum that you can’t keep it all in your mouth. It drips out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin which looks absolutely sinful. Lance wishes he could take a real photo but instead resolves to committing it to memory himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Lance moans watches you swallow, proudly showing off your clean tongue to him after the fact.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most amazing girl in the entire world?” Lance says as he pulls you into a kiss.

“Maybe a couple times, but I could hear it again.” Even though Lance is always a charmer, his words still make you blush every time.

“How about I show you instead?” Lance gets you to lay on your back, switch your positions as he starts to nestle his face in between your thighs.

“Wait baby, I don’t want to hurt you - you’re still recovering.” The worry is evident in your voice as you stop him from diving in further.

“My wrists may be broken but my tongue works just fine, princess.” Lance says as he uses his teeth to pull down your panties.

— – – – —

author’s note: that scene in dts was so iconic that i just had to capture it in a fic! hope u all enjoyed it :) Until next time! - Em 🩷

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targaryenluvs · 3 months

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— BEST LIFE

pairings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader (past), harvey specter x fem!juniorpartner!reader (present)

summary: you’d once been apart of the bau team, but after a situation and a falling out with your boyfriend you moved on. what happens when the bau needs your help on a case, which your boyfriend harvey is also assisting on?

warnings: angsty, asshole harvey cause duh, jealousy (spencer) kisses, cute harvey

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: this literally sprouted in my mind and i just needed to write it lmao, if you haven’t watched suits or criminal minds go right now‼️ they’re both my husbands 😋

when jessica had called you into her office, you’d been calm. apparently one of your cases, which had you and harvey working together, was now of fbi interest. your client was currently suing a company for faulty wiring in his home, which caused it to burn down. and it was apparently not the case at all, the home was suspected to be tied into a serial arsonist.

what you didn’t expect was for your client to be accused of being the arsonist.

“you’re sitting here,”

“uh-huh.”

“telling me,”

“yup.”

“that i’m supposed to believe that richard jeena, the fifty three year old little man, is a serial arsonist?”

you shut the file infront of you, meeting harvey’s eye, “sweetheart?” he uncrossed his legs, leaning forwards with a sweet smile, “yes?” you leaned forwards as well, “that, is exactly what i’m telling you.” harvey leaned back into his chair, disbelief riddling his face.

“and the fbi is flying here?” you nodded along, “fbi agents?” you nodded again, “probably field agents or whatever they’re called. they’ll sit in on the trial, survey the scenes, collect evidence and all.” the familiar clicking of donna’s heels brought a smile to your face, “profilers.”

your heart dropped with one word, “what’d you say?” donna made her way to the two of you, plopping herself down in the chair next to you, “it’s those fbi profilers. yknow, they look at the room and can tell you if he’s left or right handed, blonde, mommy issues and all. nice little packaged criminal profile in seconds.” you couldn’t help correcting her, having dealt with your fair share of assumptions in your years as a profiler.

“that’s not how it works,” harvey swiveled in his chair as donna looked your way, “oh?” harvey smirked as you sighed, “that’s not how it works, we don’t just walk into a room and have it speak to us. we survey the place, fresh eyes and open minds. we look for the things that everyone else seems to miss. we put ourselves in the minds of the criminals themselves, to get a better understanding of them, why they did it and all. you work your way back, start from the victim maybe, see where they’ve been, what they did in the last week, who they talk to. sometimes the killers in their personal circle but not always. every case is different, we try our best to provide an accurate, unbiased profile.”

“i want to take you on my desk, right now.” you rolled your eyes at your boyfriends words as donna stared intently, “we. you said ‘we’, as if you know what they do and their job. oh my god, you use to be one. that’s the job you had before coming here! you have a degree in criminal justice, and you said your last job you were at for what, seven years?”

“i graduated high school early, entered harvard at a young age, graduated, entered the fbi at the same time as a— friend. was also studying law, sat the exam in new york since it’s where i wanted to be. finished up at harvard, i was mid to late twenties when i left, wound up here and am now a junior partner, capiche?”

“could just say your age.” mike stood by the door with a wad of files in his hand, “i’d rather die, mike.” harvey laughed, “please don’t incentivise my lovely girlfriend to killing herself mike.”

“as nice as it is to see you all bonding, and trust me, it hits me right in the heart, jessica wants yourself and y/n in the conference room.” louis spoke from the door as you stood up, “first of all, trust with you is fickle, second, tell it to hit you in the face next time lou.” you smacked harvey’s arm as he held his arms up, “friendly fire, i’ll put it out later.” you shoved him by his back before smiling at louis, “i’m sorry about him, he’s not a big fan of the fbi.” louis nodded as he followed you, “duly noted.”

“she’s right, damn pigs.” harvey joked as you approached the conference room, “your highness,” you grinned, “you never treat me so nicely when we’re at home harvey.” he held his hand over his heart, “now don’t lie sweetheart, i’m as nice as mike.” the snort that left your lips had harvey doubling over, “oh please, nice as mike? you wish.”

your giggles were drained from your throat as you stared at half of your old team.

derek morgan, emily prentiss, penelope garcia & spencer reid. the last name, and face you’d still not looked at yet. thankfully, harvey noticed your tenseness, “y/n? sweetheart, you alright?” there it was, that word, sweetheart. spencer couldn’t help but wonder, was it just a word? you always use to call him it, before you dated, teasing of course.

“yeah, i’m fine harv.” he nodded, even if he didn’t believe you he could always ask later on. pulling out his and yours chairs, you sat next to one another. “harvey specter & y/n l/n?” emily questioned as you nodded, “the one and only. and then there’s y/n.” harvey leaned back in his chair, whilst derek stared him down.

what an ass. is what he wanted to say, it was also what he assumed emily was thinking. “emily.” she glanced over at you, surprised at you using her name, “it’s nice to see you all. how’ve you been?” and the bewildered expression was wiped clean off your face, no remnant left. you were a damn lawyer, if there was one thing you’d learned, it was to keep a straight face.

penelope smiled, “we’ve been good, y/n. but we miss you, back home. you’re a lawyer now huh?” you grinned, “the one and only.” harvey squeezed your hand, you squeezed back. “youngest junior partner, ever. my dream. just hoping to make it to senior partner soon, take the title of youngest out from under this guy. i’m happy here, i hope you are too. but down to business.”

and for the next few hours, you’d sat and listened. overlooking the case files, giving statements, reviewing security footage from surrounding houses. at some point mike ended up in the room, having met with your client and being harvey’s associate.

you’d had the pleasure of introducing spencer and mike, the two undeniably similar. you felt comfortable, even betting with penelope that if they touched the world would implode.

“and how much would he loose?”

“127,478.23.” mike and spencer rushed out as the rest of you fought to suppress your smiles, “well y/n, seems like we’ve got a genius-off.” derek laughed as the two men looked towards you, “don’t worry i’ll still love you mike.” mike scoffed at your words, “what makes you think i’d loose?”

“because i know you, and i know reid. trust me, you’d loose.”

reid. not spencer, spence, sweetheart. none of the above, you’d used his last name. as if he was nothing more than a colleague.

“okay, we’ve been here for far too long. and as much as i’d like to sit here and slowly rot, i’d rather do that at the restaurant i have booked for dinner with two lovely ladies. y/n and i have a trial date tomorrow, 8.00am. i think, we bring him along, show him what’s to happen if he doesn’t confess, than toast victory champagne when said confession rolls through. how’s that sound?” if derek’s grin was any indicator, besides a big fat yes?

spencer wanted to puke, ‘lovely ladies?’ multiple women? this man was insufferable. you gathered yourself and harvey’s files, a hand gestured towards you, the last file in said hand. “thanks reid.” he smiled, “no problem-o.” your eyebrows furrowed, “never change do you?” spencer didn’t have time to respond, his brain was too busy blowing a fuse as harvey opened the door for you. “ready for dinner lovely lady?” they all heard harvey ask as you nodded, the four watched as you walked out, his hand on your back as he pecked you on the lips.

“reid, you alright?” derek’s hand rested on his shoulder, “i’m fine, why wouldn’t i be fine? don’t we have places to be? hotch would want to know their on our side, that they reviewed all the information. they’ll help us get a confession out of him.” derek sighed, “because you just saw your ex, who you haven’t seen in years. the one you never got over, happily living in new york as comfortable as possible. a successful business woman and lawyer, happily in a relationship.”

spencer shook his head, “you don’t know that.” emily directed a sympathetic smile his way, “we sat with them for three hours. we watched them laugh, bounce off of eachother for theories, quite literally finish eachothers sentences. order food for eachother without asking, and get their meals right. they held hands when they could, he continued to call her sweetheart. and now they’re going out to dinner.”

spencer’s shoulder dropped, they were right. he’d come here excited at the possibility of seeing you again, talking to you. maybe even beginning again with you. instead, you’re apparently with some suited up asshole. he was annoyingly sweet when it came to you though.

as if the whole three hours weren’t a slap in the face, harvey’s voice rung out through the hallway, “there’s my lovely lady!” rachel, who they’d all met earlier on, was currently guiding a young girl to harvey’s arms. “daddy!” if hearts were boats, than his was sinking. he may have had a chance beforehand, but now?

“is mommy here?” your daughter was currently situated on harvey’s hip, “why don’t you hug her and find out?” your arms were out in the open as your daughter squealed before running to you, “d’you have a fun day with rach?” she nodded her head rapidly as yourself and harvey smiled, he stood behind you, chest to back. his hand rested on your waist as the other moved aside hair from her face, before moving hair from your own.

“now, my lovely ladies, it’s time for dinner.”

lovely ladies, for once, spencer had made a mistake. harvey was going out with multiple women, but not in the way he thought. his daughter and the mother of his child, you.

his words and actions meant nothing, they would mean nothing. you were happy, so happy. you had everything you wanted, a loving marriage and man, a gorgeous family. something spencer hadn’t given you. a man who knew you could hold your own. spencer knew that too, but he couldn’t help himself back then.

right now, you were living your best life.

#criminal minds x bau!reader #criminal minds x reader #suits x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #harvey specter x fem!reader #harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x you

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anonymouscheeses · 3 months

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Obvious shit I noticed part 3 (spoilers for welcome to heaven)

Look at her! "Teehee"

Also she's nervous! Foreshadowing omg 🤯

STICKERS! Two pride stickers and a cute donut. Gives me an idea to draw Chaggie at a donut shop while everything is burning down <3 (I'll probably do it but if any artist wants to as well go ahead!)

*CHOKES ON COFFEE* I LOVE THEM. I'M SORRY I GET SO GIDDY WHEN THEY HAVE EVEN THE SMALLEST INTERACTION BUT UGHHH I NEED MORE, IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH 🙏🙏

KISSY! MWA! *SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*

Vivzie give me more, moar now. MOAR

DAMN. SHE CAN THROW- or maybe it just exaggerates the perspective in this frame but still- ZAMNNN

Cherri x Sir Pentious fans RISE UP.

I wasn't ever really a fan of it myself but I always thought it was CUTE. Like 3 seconds before this part I was already begging for them to kiss 😭

More foreshadowing!

AAAAAA CREEPY BIRD THINGS!!!

Oh wait- Sera's hot and Emily's already adorable

If heaven don't look like what this is in the show, I DONT WANT IT! (THATS A JOKE PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME)

JEALOUS GIRLFRIEND VAGGIE!! Can I just say how much I love Vaggie's face expressions? Not just here but like all the time. She's just made to be so exaggerated, out of all of them I thought it would be Charlie who would have the most dramatic faces but Vaggie wins it for me. I JUST GIGGLE SO HARD WHEN SHE LOOKS LIKE THIS BAHAHAH

Okay yeah. It's very obvious now. Vaggie is definitely an ex-exterminator. They don't close in on Charlie here so it's made to subtly nudge the attention to Vaggie. HOW DID THEY IMMEDIATELY NOTICE IT WAS HER THO??

Hot-

That's it.

SHARE THAT MOTHUSSY GIRL-

YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE GREW OUT ALL OF THAT HAIR?!? YEAH ITS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE THEN BUT STILL AJJSJD.

But overall the design is pretty meh. I always loved the idea of short hair Vaggie and even have seen art of it but it's just yknow, alright. Reminds me of Cassandra from Tangled: the series. IM LISTENING TO ONE OF THE SONGS RIGHT NOW HELPPP

THIS SCENE HERE! WOOOOO! SO GLAD WE KNOW WHEN AND WHERE THEY FIRST MET!! Wish we got it extended tho. And also probably push it to next episode so it would have a better impact(atleast I think thats when they'll have the duet). BUT WHATEVER SOMETHING IS BETTER THAN NOTHING! or uh whatever

Vaggie must've been a bit terrified at first. The only sinner she ever sent mercy to was a child. Then to see someone who to her is an adult sinner who just looks really human, that must be crazy. BUT THEN IF SHE WAS TOLD THAT CHARLIE WAS ACTUALLY THE PRINCESS OF HELL? HOOOO, LOCK IN AND STEAL HER. THAT'S SOME WATTPAD SHIT. Also, I wonder how long Charlie thought of redeeming sinners. It would make sense to be after meeting Vaggie, since it could have been a wake up call to the fact not all sinners are bad people. Even though Vaggie isn't a sinner technically, Charlie didn't know that at the time. But maybe Charlie was always like this but just needed to meet someone who could start her dream with her. Long rant uhhh

Haha penis 🫵

SCRAP WHATEVER I SAID IN THE FIRST PART. THEY PROBABLY DO FUCK- OR DONT?? I DONT KNOW- ANYWAY LESBIAN SEX (BOTTOM TEXT). WHY DO I CARE SO MUCH??? SOMEONE PULL THE TRIGGER.

Lute looks like a basic asf anime gorl. Adam doesn't ever take his helmet off, or maybe he just can't. OH HE'S DOING THE GAY SIGN 💅💅 Very appropriate for what he's saying

Mentor, apprentice. I love that Husk is just trying to help Angel grow but isn't going to force him into it if he doesn't want to.

Im not a fan of huskerdust and think they'd be better friends as I can't imagine a relationship with them at all. But it's still nice and they are supportive of eachother so that's like- yknow. Basic rules. Or something like that. (HELP. I ruined it all at the last part)

I- girl- WHY IS SHE GROWLING?? GRR GRR RR (INSERT TWILIGHT SAGA HERE)

VAGGIE'S FACE. SENDS ME. WHO GAVE HER THESE OVERDRAMATIC EXPRESSIONS, I APPLAUD YOU RGAGAGA

Ooo... I didnt like this part at all... Instead of making the choice she just runs off. Then because the plot demands it, Adam says nothing. Kinda whish she atleast avoided the question, maybe in some way that would require actual thinking? For a character like Vaggie, she could choose either way and it feel like it's still her. If she chose to protect Charlie's dream, she would still be perfectly loyal to her but in the act of so would reveal a secret that could harm their relationship(which does happen at the end but that's because the plot wanted it like that). If she chose to side with Adam, she'd be hurting Charlie emotionally, sure, but it would keep a secret that could make Charlie see Vaggie less than who she is to her already(atleast what Vaggie might think would happen). Imo it should've been her deciding to protect Charlie, since it would mean she's devoted to her at all times.

ANOTHER THING! IF SHE COULDN'T MAKE THE CHOICE, THAT IS SOMETHING INTERESTING TO GO INTO. Maybe it could go deeper into how Vaggie doesn't know who she is without Charlie. So when she has a choice to make, like here, she can't do it without feeling the need to ask Charlie. BUT NOOO, YA HAD TO GO WITH THIS!! Wow. That was a long ass rant. Wtf 😭

Maybe I'm a dumbass. Maybe they'll talk about that next episode, but still, atleast touch on it a bit to not seem rushed?

Angel looking out for his kids like a mom. We always did need the motherly figure, the one closest to that being Charlie but girl needs a mother in her life too(damn, wait, I did her so dirty).

Huh, so why does it work here then? 🤨🤨 if it was said in the contract that Valentino can do whatever he wants only in the studio, then why is this the exception? 🤨🤨

Yes I'm stupid. Why do you ask? (No genuinely what's happening here)

OH ITS THE IMAGE! I really like Sera so far, hope we get more of her soon or in season 2.

Now that we know the context of this, yeah, that's fucking insane. And badass. WOMEN.

HMM. THATS STRANGE. DID YOU NOT FOR ONCE THINK THERE COULD BE A POSSIBILITY SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN AN ANGEL? Okay I probably wouldn't either but I have an excuse, I'm an idiot. Some girl with a standing out outfit, with one eye, looks unusually human, right after/during the extermination... that's pretty solid ass proof. But I'm dumb so don't take anything i say seriously :D

Imagine this. No- shit. Just-

JUST LOOK! THEY ARE SO CUTE! EVEN THOUGH CRAZY SHIT IS HAPPENING.

*SWEATS*

Vaggie is DESPERATE. PLEADING. That's obvious yeah, but don't mind me I had nothing to say for the last 3 images I just thought they were cool

I mean. Slay I guess. 😍💅

Do all the exterminators look similar or is it just Lute and Vaggie? 🤨

Even though Vaggie and Charlie may be going through this horrible thing with a hard punch in the gut, but Vaggie is always going to comfort her and I just think that's so adorable.

Also Adam looks like a chicken hah.

Everyone fears to be like Lucifer. If they don't do bad things they believe are for the greater good and make sacrifices that put them higher than those in hell, they could themselves be fallen. It's really interesting but I don't know if it's going to be fleshed out enough with the amount of episodes left. Which also worries me about everything else that still hasn't be concluded. There's gonna be loose strings I just know it. Hopefully though they rather do that then rush everything out y'know?

I want the next episode to be mostly focused on Vaggie and Charlie's relationship and the healing of what happened. Not for the entire episode of course, it would feel drawn out if it did, but atleast address the problem for the first like I would say 10 minutes? Then the rest would focus on one or two loose threads while also having Vaggie and Charlie acting upon moving on. That's just my idea but yeah-

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nomadwrites · 3 months

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bubblegum pink ⋆˚✿

gojo satoru

summary ⋆୨୧⋆ in which you've managed to convince the greatest jujutsu sorcerer of your time into getting pink highlights. what could go wrong? a lot, you learn.

contents ⋆୨୧⋆ spoilers!, pure fluff & rusty writing

notes ⋆୨୧⋆ let's start off easy, shall we? feedback is most certainly welcome & would be much appreciated! enjoy ₊˚ෆ

"come on, it's only temporary!"

"not a chance! do you know how much time and effort i put into caring for these lustrous locks?"

"it'll grow out anyways," you huff, setting down the contents of the hair dye kit on the bathroom counter. "and here i thought you were the adventurous type."

"adventure is one thing, but this? this would be an act of vandalism," satoru feigns a look of betrayal, silver lashes framing his wide blue orbs, "like defacing the mona lisa."

you gasp in exaggeration, clasping a hand over your mouth. if there was one thing on the boy’s long list of things he loved about you, it'd be your ability to keep up with his personality.

"sure. but don't you get tired of always having the same old hairstyle? maybe it'd be nice to switch it up every now and then, yknow?"

"i hardly doubt anyone could ever get tired of this." he gestures to himself, standing tall, a smirk gracing his features.

“you’re insufferable.”

“and you love that about me.”

you do your best to hide the smile that threatens to break free, chewing on your bottom lip. “oh but you’d look absolutely gorgeous,” you plead, voice dripping with honey as you cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the countertop. you bat your lashes at him, round doe eyes peering into sparkling azure pools.

the look you give him makes his heart do flips and his gaze softens ever so slightly. he can't say no to you, not when you're gazing up at him with those puppy-dog eyes of yours. you’re perfectly aware of the effect you have on him, but that’s not to say you’d ever take advantage of him. if anything, you’re just as smitten.

satoru adores gratifying you, answering to your every beck and call, no matter the request, even if they can be a little odd at times. who was he to deny you anything when you looked so entrancing?

he pretends to ponder, drumming his fingers along the cool ceramic of the sink counter. if you're quiet enough, you might hear the way the gears in his head shift as he puts on a show of overtly dramatised deliberation. it almost makes you snort, but after a minute or two of silence, he caves in, shoulders slumping.

"if it makes you happy," he breathes, flicking his gaze back to you as you perk up with excitement, light practically radiating off of you. he might come to regret this in a few hours, but when he sees the way your eyes sparkle with a radiance that seems so pure, he thinks it won’t be so bad. after all, it is only temporary.

"just so i get to hear it again," he pauses, slender fingers intertwining with yours as he guides you over to him and plops down onto the closed seat of the toilet, long legs splayed on either side of you. "you think i'm gorgeous?"

“not quite yet,” you say, running your fingers through his silver locks, admiring the soft lavender undertones. his glasses are sitting just above the tip of his nose, brilliant sapphire depths on full display. no matter how many times you’ve looked him in the eye,, it always manages to knock the air out of your lungs. “i’ll see what i can do.”

“aren’t you a sweetheart?”

“i am.”

he exhales, humming in agreement as he relaxes under your touch and relishes in the scent of your skin, not the fragrance of perfume or shampoo, but you.

this is nice, you think. free time has always been hard to come by, even more so for gojo than you. things had changed after the star plasma vessel incident. he had changed, and although he did his best to hide it, you knew better. you were there to ground him, to remind him of his humanity and his purpose for becoming a sorcerer. you were there to keep him afloat.

"so!" you clap, startling him enough to knock his glasses askew, "let's get started!"

"booo," he pouts, like some child. he likes to think you're like this because of him, that you've spent so much time with him you've essentially become a miniature satoru gojo. the thought of it makes him feel all warm and mushy inside, something he really only feels with you, despite how popular he is with people.

you get to work, skimming through the pamphlet of instructions. satoru attempts to help you, mostly by staring whilst seated on the toilet, questioning if you really knew what you were doing. you stick out your tongue at him as did he, tugging on his lower eyelid.

you manage to end up with a bowl of bright pink sludge, the scent of chemicals wafting through the enclosed space of your bathroom. satoru grimaces, both at the smell and how awfully pigmented the dye seemed, cautiously eyeing the mixture held between your gloved hands.

“no turning back now.”

“you’re sure this is temporary?”

“mhmm!” you say, throwing a towel over his shoulders to shield his black linen shirt from any stray drops of hair dye. contrary to popular belief, the all-powerful jujutsu sorcerer doesn’t make use of his infinity when there was no real need to, his reasoning something akin to him wanting to experience moments of normalcy with those close to him.

“i’m great aren’t i? strong, handsome with a heart of gold,” he’d said, standing in akimbo.

“in an alternate universe, sure.”

you smile at the memory, recalling the way he tutted when you responded, earning chuckles from both shoko and geto.

“y’know on second thought–” satoru’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “maybe blue would be a better option? make my eyes pop and all that,” he stalls, turning to look at you.

“it’s not gonna be this bright toru, it’ll be a lot lighter once we rinse you off. besides, i’ve only got pink right now–“

“great! so we should–“

“but you already said we could–“

and you’re both tugging, trying to grab ahold of the bowl. “toru stop it! you’re gonna–“

splat.

"ah," he blinks.

silence falls between the both of you, letting the sound of droplets hitting the floor echo loud in your ears. you’re wide eyed in disbelief, and it takes you a moment before you press your lips together in a futile attempt to conceal the snort that bubbles from your throat.

———————-

“don’t you look pretty?” geto teases, snapping a photo of satoru’s lifeless body as he sits limp at his desk, looking as if his soul had left his body. you’re sure it did last night after rinsing him off in the shower, fully clothed, the sight of him drenched in fuchsia finding a permanent home in your brain. shoko echoes after the raven-haired boy, resting her head on a closed fist.

satoru’s once moonlit hair now a splotchy mess of soft pink, the hair dye staining his eyebrows an even brighter shade of bubblegum. you had to practically drag him out the bathroom by the feet afterward.

“what have you done?” he whined, voice breaking.

“me?!” you gasped, “you had a part to play in this too!”

it was a miracle he’d even changed out of his wet clothes, albeit it taking around an hour or so. you’re sure he laid on the floor for the rest of the night after you’d left, geto being the first to find him in the exact same position this morning. thankfully, you hadn’t had to drag him to class.

at the very least, this would be another fond memory you’d share together.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #nomadwrites

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softlyspector · 6 months

Text

Apple cinnamon

Summary: You and Joel get away for the weekend.

Pairing: tattoo artist!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~5.3k

Warnings: fall themed!, no outbreak tattoo!au, reader has issues with touch, brief insecurity and anxiety, fluff, uhhhh and smut! (not saying what it's a surprise but be aware yknow), many feelings

A/N: Honeyed is BACK, baby! And I'm so happy I get to share them with you again. As always, we are pretending Joel can draw. Thank you for reading! I would love to know your thoughts! Please please please, be sure to leave feedback!

You can find out how Joel and Honey got together here.

“Maybe we go north in search of some cooler weather.”

It’s mid November and the Texas sun still burns hot and bright, shining onto the back deck of the Miller home in undulating drifts.

The air is scented warm, and old. It smells like sunshine on decaying leaves, like cloves and cinnamon and the bitter acidity of Joel’s coffee.

Joel isn’t quite looking at you, his gaze turned toward the edge of his property. Steam curls in the air above his mug, liquid the color of pitch swirling in its depths. It’s some small miracle that you’ve managed to get him to add cinnamon to the coffee grounds. You have a very strong suspicion that it has everything to do with you mentioning how nice it tasted.

You put your book down and fold it closed over one finger to hold your place.

Mornings are always spent like this when you stay over at Joel’s. Coffee on the back deck in the sun, Joel silent as he stares out across the yard, you reading and pretending not to notice him watching for the deer he started leaving corn out for. Joel hadn’t named the chickens, but you’ve very sure the deer have identities, and even assumed personalities.

“And do what?” You ask, propping your chin in your hand.

He shrugs and takes a long sip of his coffee, like it’s inconsequential to him. He still doesn’t look at you, a muscle jumping in the strong line of his jaw.

But you know Joel now, and he probably has a map hidden somewhere with the scenic routes north traced out, the stops you could take along the way clearly marked and noted in the margins in his messy handwriting. He has such a particular way of making you feel special, like he was always thinking about you. You know, now, that the clenching of his jaw is his own nerves beating against the back of his throat.

“I’d like that,” you say, tilting your head to the side. “Like a road trip?”

“Mm.” He glances at you and then back to the treeline, now leafless, bare and unprotected. The world seems so much wider, so much bigger and lonelier. “Just for a couple days.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Joel sets his coffee cup down and labors to his feet and when he passes you, he leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “Next weekend work for you, honey?” He asks against your skin.

“It does.”

“Good.”

The sky is still a purplish dawn blue when Joel pulls up to your apartment building.

He intends on shutting off the engine and knocking, so he can take your bag and carry it down the stairs and open the door for you, but as soon as his truck comes to a halt the street door flies open.

You cross the sidewalk in two big steps and open the truck door, even as Joel is leaning across the passenger seat to do it for you.

He huffs gently, mildly irritated that you’re snatching the chance to be gentlemanly right out of his hands. His mama raised him better than letting a lady open her own door.

But the exasperation melts away as soon as he glances up into your face and finds you smiling at him. It’s a big smile, and bright.

“Well,” he says. “G’mornin’, ma’am.”

“Hi, Joel,” you laugh. It’s a rare thing but getting less so and he already feels like he’s doing everything he should be. “I, uh,” you gesture to your bag on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he snaps his seatbelt off. “Hold on.”

He rounds the truck and takes your bag from you to slide in next to his in the backseat while you climb into the passenger seat and immediately start fiddling with the radio.

“I could have done that,” you say when he’s back behind the wheel.

“No need for you to do it,” he answers. And then, because you’re still smiling and clearly giddy, he asks, amused, “You excited?”

The morning is warm and your shoulders are bare in the early slant of the sun. He takes stock of your shoulder tattoo, eyes sliding across the ink he’d put there to cover up something you hated. It looks good on you and you seem, at least to him, to feel more confident for it.

He tells himself it’s the tattoo that’s done that, anyway.

Joel still draws designs for you anytime he gets the chance, and he pretends he hasn’t noticed you doing the same for him, though he hasn’t gotten to see any of them yet.

Your shoulders tip inward just a fraction. You fade, wilt, just the tiniest bit at his question. “I just love road trips.”

“Good,” he slides his hand over yours. “Otherwise things were about to get mighty uncomfortable.”

You loosen again, smile and lean against the center console. “Good morning, Joel.”

“Hi, honey,” he answers and it feels sappy and stupid and he loves it. You deserve it, and some days, he thinks he might, too.

You lean easily into his hands, chin dropped into the cupped palms of his hands, eyes focused and waiting. When he kisses you hello, you taste like mint.

Joel tilts your head back, slides one hand along your jaw, fingers digging into the soft skin behind your ear, while the other shifts to your waist, dragging you that much closer, even though the center console prevents him from bringing you as close as he’d like.

Your lips part against his at his slightest urging, like you’re desperate to give yourself over to him these days. He can’t say the sentiment isn’t returned. He wishes he could pull you closer, drag you into him, soothe the ache that gnaws at his belly. When your tongue slides against his you make a tiny sound in the back of your throat that makes him groan softly into you.

You’re glowing when he pulls back. You always look pretty through the haze of early morning sunshine. “Suppose we should get to it, huh?”

“Yeah,” you duck your head, smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. “Where’s the map?”

“How’d y’know I got a map?”

You roll your eyes. “Because you’re you. And you don’t even use the computer you have, I know you aren’t trusting the map on your phone.”

Said paper map is grudgingly dropped into your hands. You unfold it and you smile when you take in the outlined routes north, the point of your finger dipping along the marked lines.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head and seem amused. You lean over and kiss his cheek and everything in the world feels like it might be okay. “Let’s get coffee before we get on the road.”

The drive is long, but peaceful, and the routes Joel had mapped out are so far out of the way that you never even see a sign for the interstate.

You head east first and then north, stopping wherever Joel sees fit to, in tiny towns and oddly quaint little villages where the trees are somehow still fringed in orange and red and brown, where locals tell winding ghost stories, where everything feels storybook perfect in the chilliness that settles in the air, swaddled between one night’s moon and the morning.

Each stop feels like it’s preserved in honey and amber.

There always seems to be some tiny autumn festival with apple bobbing and corn mazes and haunted houses and stalls that sell apple pie and cider, locally made crafts and novelty t-shirts. The ghost tours are a little funny, and not at all spooky. It’s surprising they’re still telling those stories, so far past Halloween.

You get lost in one of the corn mazes, fingers tangled together stickily, the red syrup from candied apples staining your tongue red and pink. Joel doesn’t much care for public displays of affection, but when you find yourself in a particularly deserted portion of the maze and escape seems impossible, he pulls you in tight and kisses you. He kisses the cherry and apple taste right from your lips. He tastes like the sweetness of caramel and cream, coffee and cinnamon.

There’s a buzzing kind of lightness in your veins, like a colony of little bees busy building something permanent in your chest. The chill feels nice, the heat of his chest pressed to yours, even better. The quiet shush of the stalks is a gentle music.

When you escape the maze, Joel folds his fingers between yours again and kisses the back of your hand.

You pick apples right from the tree one state over from the corn maze, and promise Joel that you’ll try not make them into something resembling pie when you get back home. You’re both poor cooks, and even worse at baking.

But you’ll try, for him.

And Joel will eat it and grimace, and tell you it’s good, and you’ll pretend to believe him.

A couple hours down the road from the apples, there’s a pumpkin patch. You pay a couple bucks each to smash the last of the season’s left over pumpkins, already starting to rot. The cab of the truck smells like pumpkin guts for a few hours after that, on account of all the muck of it all over your clothes. You think it's funny, and Joel smiles, a good sport about pumpkin guts all over his truck and clothes.

Joel hums while he drives, to whatever music you put on. Sometimes he complains about your choice in music, but he always settles into it. He holds your hand and turns down the volume when you start to talk about something.

He doesn’t complain when you keep his hand in yours, tracing the lines in his hands and the bump of veins in his wrist and the back of his hand. It’s his fault, you’d say, if he ever said something about it. He’s made you like this, desperate and needy for something only he can give to you.

It’s his fault, that you’re healing and happier and looking to the future. It’s his fault, all of it.

On your last night you stop in an inn after driving and indulging in any little thing for the better part of a very long day. You’re still a day’s drive away from home, but in the morning you are heading home.

You eat at the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel, watch Joel finish out dinner with yet another slice of apple pie and another cup of black coffee before you head to your room and throw open the window of your room to a chilly night.

Real chilly, that is, not Texas chilly. And tomorrow you’ll go back to that decidedly not seasonally appropriate weather.

The sky is a dusky, autumn purple, tinged at the edges with midnight blue and a dying crimson. A sharp wind whips the curtain back, and the air you breathe in burns your lungs.

You shiver and turn to Joel with a small smile. His mouth quirks in return.

“Good day?”

“Mhm. Really good.”

He shifts and then pulls off his jacket and toes off his boots by the door, still looking down. “You sure?” Joel asks offhandedly. “This trip wasn’t a total waste of time for ya?”

“Of course not,” you murmur, trying to suppress a smile.

He glances up from folding his jacket over the back of the chair in the corner.

The question mark etched into his voice makes your chest ache. “I like spending time with you, you know,” you tease. You reach a hand out, open and close your fingers to beckon him closer.

“I know,” Joel says but doesn’t protest, just walks closer until you can fit your hands against his chest. You trail your fingers to the collar of his flannel, not daring to meet his eyes, and pluck open the first button.

When he doesn’t stop you, you continue, pushing one button after another through its little pocket until you run out of room and the material parts in your hands. His breathing hitches when you draw your hands back up to his chest, nerves stretched thin. You are still unable to meet his eyes, and so you stare at his collarbone instead, the broad planes of his chest, the line of his shoulders, and slide your thumb along the base of his throat.

It would be nice, to kiss him there, to press the edge of your teeth against his skin.

Joel’s skin is warm, shaded from hours spent in the sun. The muscle flexes beneath your touch, tendons tightening and straining in his neck. This close he smells like the earthen fields you’d walked through earlier, the crisp tangle of apples, woodsmoke on chilled air. He groans softly when you lean in.

The breeze from the window is icy against your back, raking deep nails into your flesh in a shiver that traces each vertebrae in your spine. You lean in, tipping your head forward, intoxicated by the scent of him, the feeling of his skin beneath your hand, the warmth he radiates like a furnace.

Maybe he’s looking at you the same way, drawn like a moth to flame, to your body, to the heat of you.

Joel cups one hand around your wrist and the little illusion shatters immediately. “Look at me, honey.”

You raise your eyes from the broad stretch of his shoulders to his gaze, embarrassment pooling in your belly with a sharp twist. “What?”

He shakes his head and presses one big hand against your jaw. Instead of answering, he kisses you, his other hand anchoring against your hip. You feel him smile against your mouth, amusement pouring off him in waves. “You’re just real pretty when you want somethin’.”

“Ugh,” you push him gently away and turn out of his grip. A smile pulls at your own mouth when you close the window to the night and pull the blinds and then the curtains. “You’re very funny and very cruel.”

His arms circle you again, tight and thick around your body. “I ain’t either of those things.” His lips brush the space behind your ear, the shell of it, until another shiver slides up your spine. “But you are pretty.”

And he is cruel. Your want for each other has flowered over the last few days. Though you’re used to sharing a bed with Joel, sharing a hotel room has been different. It’s been more intense, more intimate. Especially when you’ve spent every single second together, still smelling of each other and the cold and outside when you climb into bed, even after showering, like you aren’t quite able to rid yourself of the other.

Joel is too polite, too cautious with you, to do anything about it. He waits for you, always.

But you want so badly it’s like a physical ache in your chest, resting thick fists against your breast bone, hammering against your lungs, the slippery, wet viscera of your heart.

The stubble on his jaw scrapes against your cheek, the prickle of it pleasant. It sends shockwaves across your skin, bolts of electricity sparking in your veins, right to your belly. Something in your chest tightens, but not the usual thing that makes you want to cower away from arms curled around your body, but the kind that pinches in and makes you want to stay, makes you want to fall into him.

His hands could wrap around the curves of your ribs and tear open your chest and you would let him, because he would be that much closer. The feeling still scares you, just a little bit. It makes your skin tighten and smart.

It also makes you feel safe and calm.

The contrast is dizzying and, you feel, easily misplaced in your mind, considering how badly you want him. So, you turn in his arms and say, “You are, too. Real pretty.”

It’s delightful, the way his cheeks go pink right beneath his beard. He clears his throat gruffly and pulls just slightly out of your grasp. “You, uh, wanna get ready for bed? Or we can go on that shitty ghost tour that guy at the front desk told us about.”

You think of it for a moment—you and Joel, hands tangled together, led around the little town’s main thoroughfare, staying toward the back of the group packed with local couples having a date night outing. It would be cold and Joel would put his arm around your back and you’d probably drink something warm.

But—

“Mm,” you hum, looking him over. “I’m tired, I think.”

“All right,” he pushes on your hip, pats the curve of your waist gently. “Get goin’ then.”

You cup your hands against his jaw and kiss him one last time, tasting the lingering press of apple pie and vanilla cream against your tongue. “Thank you for today,” you say. “For the last few days.”

Joel, always bad with thank yous, just nods, like it was a given he should give you such a special little trip.

More weekends than not, these days, you stay over at Joel’s place on the weekends. He likes having you there, even if the weekday evenings are a little lonelier for it. He likes waking up with you, likes getting to see you at your most raw and unfiltered. And, you always look most beautiful in the morning light, when you’re smiling at him just because he fixed you a cup of coffee.

The other part of that is that he likes getting to sleep next to you, even on the nights where you don’t touch. He likes having you within an arm’s reach, rather than halfway across town in an apartment he worries about the safety of. Most nights that you stay with him are bliss. They are—you in his arms, your mouth against his, his hands tracing your bare skin, your tattoos, in the darkness of his bedroom, your fingers on his naked skin.

He always stops before things go too far, because that’s not what you need from him. You need slow and steady and sure. And that’s what he gives you. Even if he wants you so badly it hurts sometimes.

But you’ll let him know when you’re ready. He knows you feel it too, that pull, but he also knows that the fear always wins out, too.

This night with you, fresh from the shower, skin pliant and soft against his, feels different.

You’re just as easy in his arms, just as comfortable and soft.

But, somehow, it feels different, in this dark, unfamiliar hotel room in this tiny town with winter cold knocking at the windows. The scent of your skin is different, like salted caramel and chilled autumn air and him. You’ve spent so much time in his truck and his house that you’ve started to smell like home.

Usually, you smell like summer, like the earthy smell of sun-warmed skin, like coconut and spun sugar, and he misses it. He can’t wait to have you back home.

He swears he can taste the damp of your skin, water left over from the shower, the tang of your sweat against his tongue when he sucks a harsh line down your throat.

You make a keening noise, delicate with want, low in the back of your throat. His thigh is between your legs. That’s new, something recent that’s been happening more and more in the last few weeks, something you haven’t gotten self conscious or worried about wanting, about taking. You never get off that way, though he wishes you would.

He can feel the heat of your pussy through two layers of fabric. You grind against the muscle. That feels different here, too. It feels more.

He presses warm palms on your waist and hips and ribs. He traces the outline of your tattoo, taps his fingers along your spine.

His touch is the same as he always makes it, slow and steady and sure, and only asking for as much as you’ll give.

But your hands trail hot across his chest, against his neck. Something about you seems different, hungrier.

“Joel,” you murmur into his throat, lips brushing his collarbone. Your hips stop their slow roll against him. “I want to touch you.”

“Honey,” he grits, an ache forming hard and low in his gut, when your hands slide down his chest to his belly. His cock twitches and he knows you must feel it. “You sure that’s what you want?”

You stop, fingers grazing his lower stomach before you retract them. “I won’t if you—”

“No,” his hand curls around yours, keeping it in place against his skin. “I want it more than you can know, darlin’. Just don’t seem very gentlemanly of me.”

“Why?”

You tilt your head, that odd little thing you do, more animal than person sometimes in your curiosity. The dark of the room casts your face, and your eyes, in shadows. You look hungry, needful.

“‘Cause the right thing for me to do would be to touch you first, honey. Ladies first n’all.” The ache claws at him again, slides hot fingers around his lungs. “Baby, I want to. I wanna touch you so bad.”

It feels damn near wrong to admit but you just hum.

You nudge your forehead against his. “I want this first. I want to touch you. Wanna make you feel good. Can I?”

He nods, just once, and releases your wrist, because you said it’s what you want. And he does too, whether he should or not. Your hand slips lower, beneath the waistband of his briefs, and then your fingers are circling tight and hot around his cock.

A curse breaks past his lips.

Your breathing hitches against his neck, the muscle straining against your lips when he grits his teeth. You press your mouth against his skin, your curled fist slowly stroking down, thumb curving over the tip. “Oh,” you murmur, your lashes tickle against the underside of his jaw.

He grunts against you, but you just kiss the rapidly pounding pulse in his throat. Your teeth dig into his skin, the curve of his collarbone, sharp and sudden. You bite him, tongue following the sting, hot and wet. You twist your wrist around him, dragging a sound up out of him that borders on obscene.

“Is that good, Joel?”

Christ.

You’re going to kill him.

“Yeah,” he grunts.

You’re going so fucking slow at it, the caress of your hand careful and too warm, dragging the precome at the head down, your palm not nearly slick enough.

But he doesn’t want you to stop, it feels so fucking good. And Joel knows he’s going to embarrass himself, because he’s older and no one had touched him like this in a long time. He’s going to come quick.

The way you’re stroking him is better than the way he’s hastily been touching himself in the shower lately, his own palm so rough and quick, staving off the images that come unbidden. You above him, sinking down onto his length, features twisted in pleasure; you falling to your knees, lips a little o as you take him into your mouth—

Another moan slips past gnashed teeth when your fingers graze the skin of his balls, palm almost curious when you cup him in your hand.

“Gimme your hand.”

You’re breathing hard against him, chest rising and falling against his arm, the peaks of your tightened nipples brushing his bicep. You nod against him, forehead pressed against his jaw, eyes glued to his cock when you push his briefs down and pull your hand away from him.

You don’t question what he wants with your hand, and so when he spits into your palm, you gasp and then groan.

Well, thank Christ for that. Thank fucking God you liked it. His dick jumps in your hand when you slide it back over his skin, the slick noise of it intoxicating.

Your hand is smaller than his, the way you touch him so different from the way he touches himself. You’re soft with it, and slower. When you curl yourself tighter into his side, mouth pressed to the pulse in his throat, he reaches for you, touches the curve of your hip and the dip of your waist.

A needy little sigh snaps out against his collarbone, and you tilt your face up to kiss him, the press of your lips wet and soft and open. He wants to devour you, push you back and learn every single inch of you, all the parts of you he wants so badly to memorize.

Really, he just wants his face in your pussy, to swallow you down, find out what your cunt feels like clenching around his fingers.

But you said—

This first. Him first. Your tight fist around his cock, learning him first, making him come first. His hand trails up your side, cups your breast through your shirt, pinches the stiff peak of your nipple softly to be rewarded with a keening sound that makes him buck his hips up into your hand.

“Christ,” he mutters against your mouth, cupping your jaw in his hard. Your pupils are blown wide, lips swollen from kissing him. You tasted like apple pie, even though he was the one that had it at dinner. “Doin’ so good, feels so good. My good girl.”

Your eyes flutter shut, forehead knocking against his again, moaning so soft against him, breath a tiny little huff against his lips. “You feel good,” you say, stroking him slower, steady. “So good, Joel.”

He’d never admit it, but that white hot thing curling around his spine goes tight with your words, and just like that he’s at the brink of spilling over your fingers.

“Honey—” he tries to warn you but you just twist your wrist and say it again.

“So good. Always good to me,” your breath washes warm over his skin. His chest goes hot and tight, a groan tearing right out of his throat, straining against you, fucking up into your hand as he spurts over your fingers, praises from your mouth still being gifted to him, over and over and over, pleasure stealing his voice.

You, you, you.

Everywhere, his whole world in this dark room, kissing him saying thank you and you did so good and thank you for letting me touch you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. He doesn’t do well with thank you, it curls up tight around the bones in his chest, stomps on something delicate.

His mind goes silent and still, satiated and warm with your praise, despite himself. You believe things about him that he’ll never believe about himself. But he needs to give back to you, sink his fingers into you and give that pleasure right back to you. He’s desperate for it. He doesn’t need anything else but that, to make sure you’re taken care of, that you feel as good as he does, better.

But when he reaches for you, you push his hands away. “No. No. I don’t want anything. It’s all right. It’s okay to just take things sometimes, Joel.”

It feels wrong to let it go, to take from you, but he does. You’re saying no, and he has to be okay with that. There are tissues in a box on the nightstand that make for quick cleanup. He’s only a little shamed by that, though you don’t seem to mind.

Hands through his hair, massaging the back of his neck, the knots permanently twisted into the top of his spine. Your fingers are sleepy, going slower and slower until they stop and only occasionally twitch when you momentarily jerk back awake again.

“Go to sleep, darlin’,” he murmurs against your forehead, the curl of your body tucked in close to his, warm and safe, both of you.

The next morning, you wake well before Joel. His face is slack, years washed away from his face in sleep, hair mussed and unkempt.

He’s snoring lightly.

When you pull away and sit up next to him, toes brushing the cold floor, the worry hits you like a freight train. Anxiety, like it had pooled somewhere different during the night, rushes in to hit you all at once.

Maybe you should have let him touch you. You have that feeling again, like maybe you’d done something wrong, maybe you were proving again that you were too slow to love and so that was grounds for him to decide you’re not worth it.

You touched him, made him come with your hand, praised him for giving that to you when you could not give him yourself in return.

That had been easy in the moment.

Now, it just feels wrong again. You should have given more, given him your body.

But. . . it’s just the past snapping at your heels again, old worries with a new person. A different person, who doesn’t think those things. You trust Joel, in so many ways. You trust him with this too, that he wouldn’t take what you weren’t yet willing to give.

That slows the spiral, just a little, and so does his hand against your back, his lips against the column of your neck. “G’mornin’,” he grumbles, the sound of his voice deep down in the well of his chest.

“Hi.”

“You upset with me? Looks like you’re thinkin’ pretty hard. I’m. . .I should have—”

And, typical, Joel is thinking the opposite.

“No,” you say and twist to face him, pushing him back down with a palm against his chest, sitting cross legged beside him. “No. I was thinking you might. . .just the same shit as always. I’m hard work and I’m taking too long for you.”

He watches you, one big hand cupped around the back of your knee. “You know that ain’t it,” he says, so steady and steadfast.

“I was trying to remember that,” you admit.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Good. But I’ll tell ya. It ain’t that.” His thumb arcs over your skin, the knob of bone in your shin, careful and slow. “It’s not that.”

You smile and lie back down with him, fingers against the edge of his jaw. “That’s not it either. What you’re thinking.”

“Okay.” He tucks an arm around your back, hand flat between your shoulder blades. “Should have at least asked a second time before fallin’ asleep on ya.”

“No,” you say. “You were perfect for me.”

You swear you can feel the heat of his flush against your skin.

Even though you have a long drive ahead, the bed is warm and the air is so cold, so you stay wrapped up there between the duvet and Joel’s arms, careful as he always is with you, waiting until you absolutely have to get up.

The knot of want in your belly hasn’t loosened, but something is satiated all the same. You have something real now, an image of Joel’s cock in your hand, the straining pulse of his throat, the sounds he made. You have that, for those nights you let yourself think about something more. You gave him something, instead of the other way around, something you wouldn’t have been able to months or weeks before.

The scruff of his beard is soft beneath your fingertips, his eyes shut now as you stroke his skin, those little lines beside his eyes, the scar on the bridge of his nose. “When I’m ready,” you say, not looking away when he opens his eyes, even though you want to. “I think I’ll probably let you do anything you want to me.”

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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lvvgyu · 5 months

Text

Stay for me..? C.bg x you

warning ⚠️⚠️

🔞!! toxic!gyu, obsessive!gyu, gyu masturbates infront of reader twice. Pillow humping, panty sniffing. Yknow, all the shit in a stalker fic! Theres hardly an ending to this but its been in my drafts so long that I just needed to get it out, prolly will make a part two just say the word! 😉😉

Beomgyu didnt understand how you could just ignore him.

At first, the calls were normal. He’d call during your lunch break to make sure you ate, text if you ended up when working long nights to say goodnight and encourage you to get your work completed.

A few months into the relationship there was a sudden change. Beomgyu couldn’t stop messaging you constantly, calling you, and berating you about who you were with, how long you would be there..When you’d come back to him..

He’s just showing you that he loves you, why would you get mad at that?

But are you even mad? He’s not sure, he’s just assumed that since you haven’t texted him or called him back, you’re mad. God, he wants to hear your voice again.

His calls are one after another. Why won’t you answer him? Did you find someone better? You can’t leave him..He loves you so much, and you love him! So why are you doing this to him?..

“baby?..Why didn’t you answer my calls? I’ve been texting you all night, are you okay? Did something happen?” His voice is laced with worry.

You glance at the phone and start to respond, watching the traffic light turn to green.

“I’ve been busy at work, Gyu..I’m sorry I couldn’t answer, I was jus-“

“You’re on your way home right? I want to see you so bad, I was so worried..” He says, the worry in his voice not even slightly gone. You grip the wheel tighter and sigh quietly.

“Yea, Gyu..I’m on my way…” You say gently. You wish he would calm down a bit, he’s making it seem like you’ve been gone for days.

He speaks again, his voice softer this time.

“Are you mad at me?..” Even though he decided to ask, his guts twist at the suspense of what you’ll say. What if you are mad at him? He just wants to be good for you, he wants to be yours and he wants you to be his!

“No..Gyu, baby I’m not mad..” You say, looking at the time and then glancing ahead at the road.

“Yeah you are..” He says gently

“I-I just want you here, I need you..I really need you..” As the words fall from Beomgyu’s mouth, you can hear how slurred they are. And you figure that he’s worked himself up so much that he can barely speak coherently.

“Gyu, I’m almost home. We can talk about this, yeah? I have to hang up but, im not m-“

“You don’t even wanna talk to me?…What did I do? Did I say something wrong? I-im just worried about you and that..that guy, Yeonjun or whatever..You’re always with him and then..you come home, like you’re angry at me..”

You don’t respond, trying not to fuel his anger anymore. When you hear his sniffles and hear shuffling, you decide to hang up.

He calls back immediately, spamming you with text messages and begging for you to call him back. To stay, to be with him for just a bit longer. He needs you, that’s what he always says.

The car ride lasted about 5 more minutes, and when you reached for keys to the front door Beomgyu had already opened it.

“Baby! I missed yo-“

“Gyu..I need to talk to you…”

Beomgyu still doesn’t understand. A break? Why would you want to take a break from him?..You love him, so why would you ask for a break?

“No..no, no you can’t do that..” He moves closer to you quickly. Trying to grab your hands.

“Gyu, I love you. You know that, but all of this is overwhelming..” You say, kissing his hands gently.

He shakes his head, searching for your gaze with his own teary eyes.

“But I NEED you..” He whispers.

After moments of silence, there’s a soft rustling sound and frantic movements made by Beomgyu. When you look up, you see him removing his clothes. He wipes his tears and sniffles as he grabs your hands again.

“Let me show you! I can be good, I’m worth it I promise.. I’m-..I…” He stops once he sees your worried expression. Not frightened, at least not visibly.

“I’m leaving for now..I need time to think…”

Beomgyu watches you leave, wanting his tears to stop you somehow. When he sees that you’re actually leaving, he’s already trying to find a way to make you come back to him..

You were pleasantly surprised by how distant you two were becoming. No more constant calls from Beomgyu, or text messages.

Until one day.

When you received a video from Beomgyu titled “come back :((?” You were beyond confused. He hadn’t texted you in days, never called, and it was refreshing.

Opening the file, you didn’t expect much. But as Beomgyu came into screen and fixed the camera, you were utterly confused.

“I miss you baby…I know you miss me too..” He says softly, His hand moving away from the camera as he gets comfortable on the bed. He pouts softly as he looks into the camera.

“I know you’ll come back, you always do..” He says softly as his fingers come up to rub his nipples.

You always loved how sensitive they were, and how his body would react. Beomgyu let out soft moans and tilted his head slowly, moving his hand down his body gently.

You want to turn it off, to tell him that he’s gone too far this time. But..

He looks so pretty, and you know it just for you. His legs are spread perfectly infront of the camera, his hair falling onto from his forehead. Just slightly covering his pretty eyes.

Beomgyu grabs something from off of screen, a pair of your panties. He gently takes them and brings them up to his nose, taking a gentle whiff.

You should be disgusted, really..Hes jerking off infront of you, using your panties to get off.

But you aren’t disgusted..in fact, you’re turned on.

Beomgyu pants gently, sniffing the panties as he jerks off.

“I love you..I love you, i just want you to come back..I-I need y..” He can hardly continue to speak, stroking his cock faster and faster.

His hips thrust up constantly, and he grinds against his palm. “Please, want you to come back..just want you-“

Beomgyu whines in frustration, every attempt at trying to get off comes to no avail..Because its not you..Its not you stroking his cock, its not you silencing his moans because hes always a bit too loud.

Tears brim in his eyes as he pulls his hand away from his cock. He whimpers and reaches for your pillow behind him, slowly shifting and straddling the pillow.

As you watch, your gaze falls onto the way his hips thrust, desperate and needy. Normally, you’d be there to soothe him. But now, all you can do is watch.

“Y-y/n..” He whines gently, thrusting onto your pillow. Beomgyu tilts his head back, finally finding some relief after all these tries to cum.

And for some reason, you turn off the video there…

You immediately open up your text messages and stare at his contact, attempting to find something to say.

But, you leave it at that. Turning off your phone and sliding it to the side. Of course Beomgyu wouldn’t let this break happen…

Guess the break’s ending already, hm?

#beomgyu smut #txt imagines #beomgyu hard hours #sub!beomgyu #sub!txt #sub!idol

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aromantic-diaries · 2 months

Text

Yknow I feel more represented by characters who aren't confirmed to be aro/ace or even written as such, but can still be interpreted that way because of how they're characterized, rather than characters who are confirmed to be aro/ace through word of god while the actual story has no implications of that character being aro/ace beyond them not having a love interest. The latter kind of waters it down to not wanting to date or have sex which isn't really all there is to it. I get that not all representation has to be a 100% accurate, deep and touching depiction of the aro/ace experience, but that doesn't mean completely ignoring the character's identity beyond not giving them a love interest.

I will elaborate with two examples under the cut

So for the word of god representation, let's take Lilith Clawthorne from the owl house as an example. I think she's a great character, I liked her, and I think the owl house is a fantastic show that deserved better. However I don't think of Lilith as good representation because the only real confirmation we have is outside of the actual show. It's not in the canon material, she doesn't have a love interest but she's not even the only character who stays single so that doesn't mean much. She isn't shown to be any different from anyone, her being aroace isn't really relevant in any way. I'd say the best word for describing this type of representation is Passive. We know she's aroace because it was confirmed outside of the show, she doesn't have a love interest, but it doesn't really go beyond that. I get that the show was cut short and maybe it would have been elaborated on more but that's just a generous assumption on my part. My point is, I don't really see any real aro or ace experiences reflected in her character, neither mine or anyone else's. She doesn't really represent any actual aspec experiences at all which is why I don't consider her to be good representation. I still understand the community's attachment to her though, we take what we can get and what we get is very little. So while I love the owl house, the aroace representation is pretty dissapointing compared to the great representation of other queer identities and I'm kinda bummed that the aroace character still gets sidelined in an otherwise very queer friendly show

For another example I'll bring up my all time favorite, Rudy Waltz, protagonist of the book Deadeye Dick by Kurt Vonnegut. Deadeye Dick is not a feel good story. The story is dark, bitter and the conclusion is no different. Still, I would describe it as oddly comforting and pretty funny at times. So what does that have to do with anything? Well, our Rudy can very well be interpreted as asexual and probably aromantic as well. He isn't referred to as such, he describes himself as a neuter, the author states in the preface that the protagonist's disinterest is a metaphor for his own declining sexuality, and the book was written before the term aromantic was even coined. However, as an aromantic asexual reading the book, I could not help but deeply relate to Rudy's lack of interest in ever having sex or finding a romantic partner. I felt kinship with him as he described knowing how many people there are who are just like him and yet they go unnoticed by most people, because I was one of those people. I related to him and the way his disinterest in sex was met with such confusion from another character. Despite not being described as such, Deadeye Dick is very much in part an asexual and an aromantic story because the protagonist's experiences line up with that of someone on those spectrums. You could argue that calling him aroace is problematic due to him fitting a negative stereotype due to his emotional detachment, or that he only fits the label because of said detachment, but that does not change the fact that he is still better representation than a character who was confirmed outside of the story with no real implications. I see myself in Rudy more than I do in Lilith because Rudy actually feels like an aroace character

Anyways, rant over. Feel free to disagree with me

#aro #aromantic #arospec #ace #asexual #acespec #aroace #aspec

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gentlyweeps-world · 4 months

Text

A Rivals Heart 3

summary: A crush had turned into hatred, but with the work of Lando, Alex and George, maybe it could be fixed.

pairing: max verstappen x fem! driver reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, sexual tensions.

prev part

next part

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

“You don’t understand guys, we almost kissed! And now he hasn’t said a thing to me! He’s acting like nothing happened!” You groan out, pacing back and forth as George, Alex and Lando simply watch you.

It’s the weekend of the Saudi Arabian GP, and you’re currently in the Williams hospitality, ranting about the night at the club with Max.

Lando just laughs as you rant on about your awkward encounter with Max, he found the entire thing absolutely funny.

George and Alex just chuckle, George glances at you with a smirk on his face.

“He’s probably just as confused as you are, or he’s trying to figure out what he actually feels towards you.” George adds on, as Lando just keeps laughing.

“Well clearly he still hates me..” You say throwing your hands up, “You guys saw how he was glaring at me!”

Lando lets out another laugh, George sighs and rolls his eyes.

“He does still hate you, that’s true.” George says with a smirk, but he quickly adds on. “But I think your encounter with him might have changed that..”

Alex just sips his water, looking away into the distance as he listens to your rant.

“Ugh! Whatever guys are stupid, he’s stupid!” You groan out, flopping down on one of the couches in the hospitality.

Lando lets out a chuckle, but George looks at you seriously, he can tell how much this is infuriating you.

“What if I could get him to talk to you?” He asks, watching you.

Lando chuckles at that idea, while Alex just sips on his water, clearly just listening to this entire conversation not sure what to say.

“No..no just leave it be..” You mumble out, leaning your head back as you close your eyes. The three guys look at each other, knowing they won’t leave it be and will definitely say something to him.

———

“Heyyy Max!” Lando says after searching the entire paddock for him.

Max looks up from his phone from where he was sitting in RB hospitality. “Hi..” Max replies, turning off his phone and looking at Lando.

“Soo…” Lando says, taking a seat next to Max, “You remember that one night at the club last weekend?” Lando adds on.

Max smirks at Lando, he can’t believe the audacity of Lando to ask a question like that.

He remembers that one night all too well. But he doesn’t show that to Lando.

“Yes I do.” Max replies, not wanting to go into details or mention it further.

“Right..right” Lando says, not sure what to say with Max being so…dry. “Uh well! That was purely to piss you off…” Lando adds on with a chuckle, “But uh- we think you should say something to Y/n!”

Max just looks at Lando, not replying yet. Landos intentions were obvious, and he knew that as well as Max.

Finally, he spoke. “Why’s that?” He asked, turning back to Lando so they make eye contact.

“Just to uh yknow..fix relationships within the grid..?” Lando says awkwardly, even if he was good friends with Max, this conversation was awkward, too awkward.

Max smirks at the excuse Lando tried to make.

“We’re rivals. She’s always hated me and I’ve always hated her.” He says bluntly.

“Right well! See you around mate!” Lando says, getting up quickly and clapping Max on his shoulder as he rushes off to find George and Alex.

——

“That was horrible! Why couldn’t Alex say something to him!” Lando whines out to George and Alex, having had done a terrible job talking to Max.

George rolls his eyes at Lando, “Alex wouldn’t have done any better” George says.

“Hey! I was teammates with him, I would’ve done way better!” Alex says offended.

“What about Danny?” Lando suggests, “Daniel loves to annoy Max..” He adds on.

“That is true…” George mumbles out, thinking about it.

———

“Oh yeah I’m in..” Danny says with a grin, “Anything to piss off Max” He adds on with a chuckle.

So now here you are walking side by side with Danny walking to RB hospitality to eat with him. “Why didn’t you get Lando or someone else to go with you..” You mumble out annoyed, not understanding why Danny picked you.

“Because I want to have some lunch with my other bestie!” Daniel says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder with a grin.

Seeing him smile you couldn’t help but also smile. You both find a table to sit at, “I’ll go grab some stuff to munch on..” Danny says with a grin.

Unknowingly Max was walking up behind you to join, “Oh hey Max! You can sit right there!” Danny says, pulling Max and shoving him into the chair across of you before he sprints away laughing.

Max lets out a groan as he’s being shoved into a chair and then being left alone with you. He couldn’t believe Daniel would do him dirty like that but you can’t really say no to Danny without being rude. “Fucking asshole..” He mutters under his breath.

He sits across from you and looks at you, not saying a word, clearly planning his next move. “Uhm, hi..” You say with a nervous smile, not exactly what to say or do, since it’s been weird between the two of you.

“So you do talk…” Max says with a smirk, leaning back in his seat. “And you’re back to being an ass..” You grumble out, rolling your eyes. You look around Red Bulls hospitality and notice Alex, George, Lando and Daniel trying to “hide” and watch you and Max talk, you glare at them but glance back over to Max.

Max smirks, this was more like the conversations the two of you usually had.

“Did you miss me?” He asks as he raises one of his eyebrows at you, clearly teasing you. “Oh I missed you so much!” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

Max grins at you, he can already tell you two are back to your normal fighting self again.

“That’s a nice attitude you have schatz”He says sarcastically. “Thanks..” You mumble out, narrowing your eyes at him. “It’s special just for you..” You add on.

Max smiles at you, his smile growing larger with every sarcastic comment you send his way.

“I feel honored” He says as his voice was filled with sarcasm and amusement.

“Good..” You mumble out before getting up from your seat, “Well I’d better get ready for qualifying!” You say, “It was so nice talking to you!” You add on sarcastically, making your way to your teams garage.

———

“It totally worked..” You hear a voice say, snapping you from your nap, “What…?” You mumble out confusedly, opening you eyes and spotting Lando, Alex and George.

It was race day and you were at your teams hospitality, taking a nap before everything started.

“Danny leaving you two to talk!” George says, reminding you of the previous day. “That definitely didn’t work..” You mumble out, sitting up to look at the three guys.

“Maybe not..” Lando chuckles, “But at least you two are talking now.” Lando replies.

George just rolls his eyes, “Yeah he’s right about that, it’s a start.” George adds on, he knows what him and Lando had attempted to do yesterday didn’t go that well.

“It was a shitty attempt at trying to fix this..” Alex mumbles under his breath. “See! Alex gets it!” You say, motioning your hand towards Alex.

Alex rolls his eyes once again but doesn’t say anything.

“So what did he even end up saying to you?” George asks, clearly eager to know about the encounter between you and Max. “Was he even nice?” He asks.

“Yeah he was suuper nice!” You say sarcastically glaring at George. George rolls his eyes, he had obviously seen through your sarcasm.

“He definitely wasn’t nice.” George adds on, his tone being slightly serious.

“Really?!” You say faking shock, “I didn’t know George!”

“Oh be quiet.” George rolls his eyes at you.

Lando smirks, it’s clear he’s enjoyed watching this entire thing unfold. Alex just remains quiet.

“Can we just drop Max and focus on the race happening soon?” You mumble out with a groan.

That was clearly the worst move to make, as the guys all turn to you, looking at you as if you had just insulted their mothers.

“Drop Max?” George asks, sounding genuinely disappointed now.

“No!” Lando shouts, almost as if this situation was now his problem.

“We want the drama..” Alex replies, finally joining the conversation.

“If you want drama go talk to Pierre and Charles or something!” You say with a groan, getting up from your spot.

“That’s boring drama.” Lando chuckles, getting up with you.

“The drama here is much more interesting.” George says, also standing up.

“Don’t walk out on us, this is still our problem too.” Lando says. “It’s not your guys problem! You three volunteered to make it your problem!” You say, walking away to go to your teams garage and get prepared for the race.

———

“Just one more lap to go, P3, P3” Your engineer says over radio.

You had a great start, moving up two positions from P5, and thankfully being able to keep that P3 position for the entire race.

Max was just in-front of you in P2. With Checo in P1.

“Gap between me and Verstappen?” You ask, wanting, needing, to overtake him for your own egos sake.

Your engineer replies to you pretty quickly, knowing how competitive you are.

“Approximately 2.3 seconds.” He replies. “Perfect” You reply, set on overtaking him.

You focus on the race, keeping in mind the gap between Max.

You’ve started your lap, you close in on Max. You were getting a good speed on this track compared to others, you finally were in DRS and were able to pull alongside Max.

Side by side to Maxs RB19, you try to push to get past him, but he wasn’t having it.

He knowingly moves in closer to you, self sabotaging his race and yours.

Max was not having it, he wasn’t about to let you win this race, even if it meant taking both of you out of the race, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

You collide into each other, you know how fast both of you were going, you knew the impact was going to be hard so you close your eyes and brace for it.

Both of your cars are sent spinning out into the grass. The crash was hard, but you were okay, you open your eyes, you see the grass and gravel being thrown around you.

Everything stopped for a moment, you were okay. You were safe. But he ruined it.

Of course he couldn’t let you pass him, instead he opted to take you both out. “You okay Y/n?” Your engineer asks, “I’m fucking pissed” You reply sharply, getting out of your car and storming over to Maxs.

He was just getting out of his when he noticed you storming over. “You’re a fucking asshole!” You shout, throwing your hands up in the air.

Max had just got out of the car, not having any care in the world for anything else.

“That was quite fun wasn’t it?” He says with a smirk, he knew what he just did, but he was completely fine with it.

“I hate you! I hope you’re proud of yourself Verstappen!” You say, noticing the marshalls rushing over now to split you two apart. Max freezes in his spot, thankful you couldn’t see the way his face dropped at your words. The marshalls rush you away from him and off the track.

He knew he fucked up, he knew he lost you. You called him by his last name and said you hated him. The words cut him deep, and that’s something you couldn’t see. He hated the way this whole thing turned out now. He was hurt that you truly meant every word.

You’re brought back to your teams garage. Everyone looks at you, not saying anything, they know the drama between the two of you, but you had never truly said you hated the other before.

———

“Y/n? Y/n!” An interviewer asks, snapping you out of your daze. “How are you feeling after today?” They ask.

You internally roll your eyes at the question, hated that you still had to attend media duties. “Pretty bad, I mean there wasn’t much I could do..” You reply, rubbing your hand over you face, trying to hide the fact you were crying about ten minutes ago.

The interviewer could clearly see you were trying to hide something. You always seemed to look so confident and happy during these interviews.

“Can I ask, how do you feel about Max? Because this isn’t the first time you two have clashed.” The interviewer asks.

“I think he’s a pussy” You say blankly, “He couldn’t deal with me trying to overtake him”

You didn’t care if PR yelled at you, you were pissed. The interviewer nods at your response, not wanting to act surprised or shocked.

“Are you implying he wouldn’t let you overtake him because you’re female?” They ask.

“Yes, yes I am” You reply bluntly.

The interviewer nods in understanding, they know Max and you both have always had this tension and rivalry between you two.

“And he did crash into you, I’m sure the FIA will look into this accident.” The interviewer points out.

You let out a chuckle at that, “Sure..” You say with a grin, knowing the FIA won’t do that.

The interviewer gets frustrated at your grin and how you were laughing at the whole thing.

“Do you believe you could’ve won the race if that collision didn’t happen?” The interviewer asks.

“I think it would’ve been possible, yes” You reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

The interviewer takes note of that, they know you’re always extremely confident in your abilities as a race car driver. It isn’t something that surprises them.

“Do you believe you’ll make a comeback in Melbourne? With this incident?” The interviewer says, it was clear they were trying to see how motivated you are to win next weekend.

“Yes, I’m very confident” You say.

The interviewer makes a note of this as well, they always knew you’d never back down on your confidence.

“Alright, that’ll be all. Thank you.” The interviewer says as they turn off the camera and hand you a towel to wipe off sweat.

You are able to relax for a few moments before your PR manager comes up to you. You noticed the hint of irritation in your PR manager, but that was hidden by a forced smile.

The PR manager looks at you, they know how badly the day went and how pissed you were at Max for crashing into you.

They put their arm around your shoulder and lead you back to your drivers room.

Once the door is closed you let out a sigh. “You have to watch what you say” Kelly, your PR manager says.

“I know that! I’m just so pissed off..” You say, leaning up against the small makeshift bed.

Kelly just nods at you, she understands what your feelings right now, but she knows she still has to act as your PR manager.

“He’s got to you a good bit.” She says, hoping to get you to relax a bit more.

“He crashed into you, you’re allowed to be mad.” She adds on. “I know the FIA won’t do anything…” You say softly, disappointment and irritation evident in your tone.

“They most likely won’t..” Kelly says softly, she knows this feeling all too well.

She sighs, she knows that this whole situation sucks, but you have to move on from it for now, you can’t let this incident ruin the next race in Melbourne.

“The team will try and say something to the FIA” Kelly adds on, giving you a reassuring smile. “Okay that’s good..” You mumble out, rubbing your hand over your face.

Kelly nods at you, letting out a little sigh.

“They probably won’t do much, it’s Max we’re talking about here.” She says, “He has a special place for all the rules.” She adds on sarcastically, her voice becoming slightly annoyed.

You let out a chuckle at her words, “Yeah that’s true” You say with a small grin. “It’s not fair, but it’s just the way things are.” Kelly says with a sigh, she hated how the whole system worked.

You both sit there for a few moments in silence, until there was a knock at your door.

“I’ll check it” She says, moving to crack open the door and peek her head out, “Yeah Y/n’s in here, you can come in..” She says, moving the door more open, letting in Lewis.

You perk up at the sight of Lewis, you’ve never really talked much but he’s a nice guy. Lewis walked into the room with a smile on his face, you knew he had heard what happened, words spread quick around the paddock.

Lewis had always been a supportive person to you. “How you feeling?” Lewis asks, he had come to have just a general chat and check up on you.

“Pretty shitty..” You say with a chuckle, you glance at Kelly who gives you a smile and exits the room, knowing Lewis probably wants to comfort you.

Lewis smiles at your response, he can tell you’re just trying to joke around a little bit to avoid being in a sour mood.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to check up on you sooner.” Lewis says, sitting down next to you, he knew how you were probably feeling right now after the whole incident.

“It’s alright..” You say with a faint smile, glancing over at him.

There’s a good chunk of silence before he speaks up, “I- I know how you feel…” He says, “Like you fit in but don’t completely…you’ll always be viewed as an outsider and be targeted…”

“I know it must be worse for you- but I understand to some extent…” Lewis says, looking at you.

Lewis’ words hit home, you’ve never really seen anyone really understand your situation before.

“You do understand…” You reply with a faint smile, you felt good at the moment for just a few seconds, “Thanks Lewis..” You add on.

There’s a moment of silence as you figure out your next words. “There’s some drivers who I’m friends with- and some I talk to- who I’m friendly with”

“But it’s not the same, there’s still this distance, that I’m still left out even if it’s not noticeable…”

“And there’s unspoken pressure with me being female, I have to preform every weekend, or else I’ll be viewed as if I don’t deserve my seat..”

“If there’s just one slip up, almost everyone in F1 hates me” You say softly.

You realized you had been talking pretty fast, you had been spewing everything that had been bottled up inside of you.

Lewis couldn’t help but feel bad for you, because he did know how it felt to constantly have the pressure of performing on your shoulders.

“I know..” He replies back, “I have my own troubles, but I think yours are worse than mine..” Lewis says, he could tell how much the pressure to perform was getting to you.

“Yeah well-“ You say with a dry chuckle, “That’s F1..”

Lewis smiles softly at your dry humor, he had a slight feeling that you were using jokes as a way to lighten the tension.

“It is unfortunately..” He replies back.

He was always pretty silent when it came to emotional stuff, but you could tell that his heart truly did go out for you.

“Thank you for checking up on me..” You say, giving him a small smile.

Lewis just smiles back at you, you knew he cared about you, despite you two not being too close before this.

“Your welcome.” He replies, he gives you a small pat on the shoulder before leaving the room.

You were happy that someone checked up on you.

———

You let out a sigh, you were back at your hotel room, laying in bed watching Cars when there was a knock at your door.

“Coming!” You say, getting up from the bed and over to the door, cracking it open just enough to see who it is.

When you see who it is, you are caught off guard.

Max was standing at the door.

He obviously didn’t know how to approach you after the whole incident but he couldn’t just ignore the whole thing, there was something he wanted to say, and now was the time.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

radio 🪩: Merry Christmas for those who celebrate! Hope this was a good third part!

taglist: @neilakk @formulas-bitch @lpab @jehun @allinestarr @reidsworld @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @itsjustkhaos @cmleitora @gills-lounge @christianpulisic10 @chonkybonky @goldenharrysworld

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