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#its been like a month and i just keep feeling worse lol
poetryvampire · 2 days
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painfully needy Rolan going into rut
Had this on the brain lately. I don't think it would take much to make Rolan an absolute mess but imagine how worse it would be when he's going into rut. Boy would snap so fast
Rolan x afab non-tiefling reader
Have some 🔥spicy🔥 musings
*this went longer than I wanted lol. But if you like it tell me if you want more 🧡
● Rolan had been doing this dance with you for months now. Both working at Sorcerous Sundries you saw each other regularly, even tried to work together as much as possible (not that he'd ever admit that). The banter, the playful mockery leading to not so subtle flirtation was easy until now.
● The conversations didn't flow like before. A joke about becoming a doe eyed scarcely dressed maiden -like the ones on the covers of those novels you so enjoy- suddenly lead his mind to wander. Any wisecrack replaced with the image of you gazing at him so lustfully. An image that stays with him for the rest of the day (and night).
● Lia and Cal are very vocal about his uptick in irritability. He tries to ignore them but they're not wrong. Ever little thing sets him off. He's frustrated at himself. For letting the feelings get so far without truely noticing. For being too proud or too embarrassed to act on them.
●He often forgets his words as his eyes lingered on your lips, your neck, your figure. More than once you caught him staring and to his surprise no offense was taken. Just a quizzical look, perhaps a soft smile that flooded his face with warmth.
●Rolan would have almost preferred you'd have met him with anger. Now the hope of you ran rampant through him. That if he was ever to give in he may be met with the embrace he so longed for. The need for you was growing by the day. He even took care to not stand to closely to you now. He coursed himself for it. How had he become so starved for affection that even the scent of you sprung his body to life.
●The wizard had spent many nights forced to take action if he was to ever find sleep. He'd be tangled in his sheets, hair wild, trusting violently into his own fist. He tries to keep his fantasies to more abstract forms of pleasure but as hard as he tries the vague shapes melt into crystal clear images of you. It would always be you around him like a vice that would push him over the edge.
● There were times he'd lose himself so throughly he'd cry out your name as he came. Embarrassed by this lack of control, Rolan told himself it was better to happen here than in front of you.
● Going into work that morning something felt off. Rolan's whole body felt extra sensitive, aching. The horrible thought finally struck him at midday. Was he going into rut? Now!? With such little warning? He calms himself. He's not certain after all.
● Until he's been paired with you to clean out and old study turned storage room. He's hyper aware of your scent. Its filling his lungs,making his knees weak. The room isn't exactly small but it's stuffed with stacks of books making moving around a problem. You're constantly having to squeeze (delightfully, terrifyingly) close to each other.
● Luckily you're busying yourself with the task at hand. Rolan prays you won't notice how red (red-er) his face is or the sizable bulge he's currently cloaking with a stack of books. The straining against his pants is almost painful. He's eyeing the door, anything to escape the heat building in his blood.
●His eyes fall back to you and all notions of making a run for it leave his mind. Along with everything else that isn't right in front of him. You looked a vision, standing on and old box body spread across the book self as you attempt to reach something on the top shelf. Not only was it a perfect view of your form, it reminded him of a pose one might see in an old painting.
●Suddenly the box wobbled threatening to send you falling backwards. Your scream was cut short as you felt Rolan catch you, arms wrap around your middle tightly pressing you to him. His face buried in your hair he couldn't help utter a deep groan. The wave of intoxicating aroma washing away his last bit of restraint.
●With ease he flips you around, pressing you into the shelf, a maon escaping your lips. Your hands came to his chest not to push him away but in a gentle caress.
●'Rolan? Please,' was hardly out on your mouth when they were swallowed by his lips. He kisses you like a drowning man breaking the water's surface. Madly, desperately as if any second you may be taken away for him. Hungrily he deepens the kiss and your lips part for him with ease, both of you relishing in the taste.
●It's only when you part for air he realizes he's been rocking his hips into you. An apology catches in his throat as you grind back against him. He's dizzy with lust, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
●His lips find your neck, kissing, sucking and biting. Trying his best not to break the skin. Your moans drive him on. His hands are frantic running all over you. Soon your hands lead his to the laces on your dress. He makes quick work of it.
●Rolan takes you in his arms again and lays you down on a near by table. A little too eager he tears your under things away completely. But to his awe you only laugh and spread yourself out for him to drink you in fully. You're a goddess in his eye and he intends to worship.
●Words spill senselessly from him as he lavishes you with his mouth. 'Fuck, Fuck! You're beautiful you're perfect. I need- God's, l need you I need you.' He hasn't the brain for elegance now. He's kissing you everywhere maoning words of love into your skin.
● As he makes it to your thighs he cannot help but bury is face between them. The sweet taste of your sex has him throbbing with out so much as a touch. He wants to make sure you're nice and ready for him. You're not a tiefling after all and he couldn't bare the thought of hurting you. It doesn't take long before you're dripping wet against his tongue as he slides wildly between attacking your entrance and your clit.
●You stifle a scream as an orgasm suddenly rips through you, your thighs shaking in his grasp. Youre still panting but you pull him away, drawing him closer to you. As you pull him into a soft kiss your hands unlace his pants (finally) freeing his erection. Though to hold him lightly his gasp is sharp. He's painfully hard; his head already glistening with precum.
●As he runs he length against your folds he tries to center himself. He doesn't want to be too rough or finish terribly fast. He wants to go slow but when he catches on your entrance he can't help but thrust into you, the relief of his agony so close. You tremble but encourage him on. His name quickly becoming a soft prayer on your lips.
●He's wrapped inside you now, almost all the way. The pleasure overwhelming him he opts for quicker shallow thrusts. He's taken aback by how vocal he is as more sweet lustful nothings spill from him. Rolan's control is fading fast. He's practically shaking, slamming himself into you losing whatever rhythm he had. The sight of your face contorting with pleasure is pushing him to his end. He can feel the hot pull in his gut. And suddenly something else as.
●A chill runs over him as he feels the swelling at the base of his cock. He grasps it and pulls out not wanting to subject you to something he didn't even take the time to explain. In part he's too late. He didn't fully knot but he still comes hard, spilling thick ropes all over your stomach and thighs. Fuck, you're beautiful like this.
● He blushes deeply and panics, apologizing over and over. He didn't want it to be like this. You run your fingers through his hair and kiss him gently. You don't know that much about teifling biology but Gods you wanted to learn. Rolan tries to believe you, that this wouldn't scare you off.
● He adjusted his pants, somehow still as uncomfortable as before. Perhaps it was the sight of you dressing. How you made no move to do away with his mess before you did. He could take you again easily. But not here.
● You convince him to claim illness and leave work early. To take time to rest. He agrees wanting to lock himself away from the world. And yet he also agrees to meet you that night. Then he'd have a more level head. A chance to explain himself and perhaps to hold you in his arms for longer.
Xoxo thanks for reading friends ❤️
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soiwatchthestars · 8 months
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i'm sorry that i've been absent on here the past few weeks - i'm not feeling well and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere soon, so most of my posts have been queued and will be for a lil while! i'm not ignoring dms, just not feeling good and looking at screens is hard lol so pls bear with me 😭
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bunnihearted · 2 months
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🐁☁️🌫️
#sorry gnna sound like a shit person now but im not feeling well i just need to rant#nothing good ever happens to me. every aspect of my life is a mess. im constantly miserable w nothing to pull me out of it#it's been getting worse nd worse for years nd if it keeps getting worse im not gnna be able to take it much longer#ofc there are sooo many others who have it way way way worse than i do. so i feel weak nd pathetic for being so affected by it when i know#it could be literally sm worse than it is now. like i get that. i know im not nearly as bad off as many ppl are#but idk still it's rlly tough to have *nothing* that makes me keep going. the literal only thing is that i dont kms bc i dont wanna hurt mom#bc im poor so i cant do ANYTHING. i cant go anywhere. not the cinema not concerts not to the mall not to the bookstore not an amusent park#i cant even go to cafées bc i dont have any money at all to spend on that#i have no friends to hang out w. even if i couldnt afford going anywhere i cant even just take a walk or sit nd talk to them bc there r none#my sisters havent talked for me in over a year#and like yada yada i dont have anything to pull me out of my misery bubble. no friends to comfort me no family to hang out w#nothing to do or nowhere to go. hell i havent even been able to eat for 8 months so i cant even like eat smth yummy nd watch a movie lmao#i cant even read bc of the constant noise! i cant go out into the forest bc there r always subway construction work or choppers or gun shots#i know im 'focusing on the negative' but what am i supposed to do when theres nothing positive to focus on lol?????#im always physically uncomfortable bc of pain nd health issues nd im always anxious nd stressed too so like... yay#and. this is where i sound mean but like after years nd years of nothing good happening to me... idc for others anymore like#when they talk abt their loving relationships and their kind friends nd them going to concerts im like.. wow !! u get to be happy!! i dont!!#im just envious nd jealous nd bitter bc why cant i have ANYTHING good???? not just ONE fkn thing?#other ppl get to have multiple things but i get nothing?????#and its not exactly like i hate them or wish illwill on them im just like wow kinda dont feel sympathy for u bc u have sm things#i've never had :))) nd u can never understand how awful it feels to be deprived of it so idc :))))
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tittysuckersworld · 11 months
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am fine
#fecking no i aint in tags lol#gosh i love my friends but man do i have a inferiority complex- and they dont exactly help with it-#like. today tryed join in with smth with making ocs cause friends already did that#was having a lil bit of fun trying mojo#and then another friend joined in and idk#i dont wanna sound mean but took it?#i was gonna make a charscter or smth planned out with heizou but they sorta took over my channel and made smth with him#which is fine im fine i just gosh#i feel so dumb and bad when others sorta take my spot#all my friends are so so good at character creation and figuring out lore fast and i just#i suck at it. i struggle so hard with writing and trying to get into characters heads#i suck at roleplay and usually go with whats funniest to me#i feel like a joke. they only just moved channels and its been an hour.#i know what i would have made wouldnt be half as good but i wanted to make something#and that got trampled. it really dosent help that i was sorta the art one and then a way better artist joined the server#i just- i know it dosent make sence but with it all i just feel useless? is that ok??#i want to make things and be as good as my friends with it but i alwase feel like im just worse. i wish my head worked right like all of#theirs do. i know i make good ideas and things. but thats after months and months of working out and revising#they make a whole coherant story in an hour. wile multitasking. how am i supposed to keep up with that??#i also just feel pathetic cause they are my only super close friends. one being only irl friend that dosent just feel like my brothers#and even then that friend is moving away soon. damn it i just wish i could be as good as them with something. anything#i dont wanna just be the silly younger sibling friend all the time. i dont wanna help just make jokes. i wanna make cool stuff like them#they all have their stuff so much more together and i just want to be decent compared to then on one thing#i just want one please.
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jewpaw · 6 months
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gonna be real im like At the end of my rope
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0tul1ss · 11 months
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.
#mannn i literally assumed he ghosted-- why on earth would he text me after so long????#i was fully like 'ok the last msg i sent literally makes me cringe a bit to read but its been months so ig im never opening the convo again#it was simpler before when there felt like there was nothing else to do and easier to move on. i even had a little crush on someone else !#now i have a whole wheel of decisions to choose from#and idek what i truly want from this guy anymore bc even just platonically he kinda fucked it up like. idk#or rather i want a lot of different things and idk what to choose#i want my friend back. i want to never see him again. i want him to know every truth of what ive felt and i want him to know none of it#i want him to miss me or maybe wonder about me sometimes down the line. i want him to not spare me another thought for the rest of his life#i want to reply only 'go fuck yourself' and i want to write him a letter and i want to ghost him better than he ghosted me#i want to tell him i love him and i want to tell him i hate him and i want to say nothing at all#i want the closure i was denied. i want to protect the closure i now have#<-going insane#anyway its soooo stupid like i already grieved for this shit bro. i accepted the end of this years long close friendship#anyway idk why im doing so much processing of this in a vent post nor do i know why i always feel compelled to post these when i do#good thing i keep a small presence on here lol. but yea uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh send post#ok wait i saved this as a draft and went to go look for what i had been tagging vent posts with#[couldnt find one i had been using consistently even tho the whole point is so ppl can blacklist it if they want whoops!!]#and i saw another vent from another time he just kinda disappeared on me#and while this time was a lot worse for a lot of reasons i think its important to say this--#that the last thing that i want is to go back to square one of this stupid awful cycle#vent
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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year
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...
#i truely have so much anger built up inside me about my job. ive done a very good job of making it unbearable#and after taking a 10 day vacation. plus 2 days of not working bc im sick. i really dont wanna go back#i was planning to take 3 days to not do fucking anything but my boss just emailed me with some time sensitive#logistical things. so like i guess i gotta fucking do that tomorrow. i started reading the email and it made my head hurt#and she started it off like. hopw ur feeling better and i dont wanna cause stress but...#like bro. listen. if u tell me these things u put them in my head and i csnt stop thinking abt them until theyre done. and its not her#fault bc im the one that put myself in a place where im barely keeping it together. its just frustrating#bc it feels like hope u feel better but also kill urseld 💖 but again thats just how it feels bc im so. idk how to describe it im like in a#state of post burnout. im sitting in the ash. alone in a desolate landscape and its like jesus how tf do i fix this?#and i cant even run out my anger rn bc im sick. and i mean i have the energy to run i dont feel lethargic but like i doubt that would aid#recovery lol. ugh. 2 months. thats all. then i move away. assuming i find a place to live lol. bc i currently haven't yet#but whatever. assuming i get better quickly and dont get worse and dont get covid on top of this cold bc my dad got covid#it will have been a bit of a blessing i came back sick bc i have a clear justification for not working and for telling people to fuck off#when they ask for things from me. like today a lab mate asked if i could sample Monday. which it technically#a holiday but i probably would have said yes if i wasnt sick. and i would have had to teach undergrads some bullshit friday if i wasnt sick#instead i just did nothing all day bc i almost moved bsck my flight and didnt leave home until the weekend anyway#i guess its good i didnt bc then i would have been stuck in ohio bc my dad found out he had covid yesterday#idk its all just frustrating bc im halfway in a transition and im not doing very well but i cant do anything to fix things until i leave#the southwest. like i dont even kno if i have health insurance rn. my benifits change request was processed but like does thst mean it was#approproved? fucking idk. so everytime i do anything i imagine a worstcase scenario where i end up hospitalized and damned to an empty#bank account or eternal medical debt. tho my mum said they passed a law where they arnt allowed to do thst to u anymore 🤷‍♂️#whatever. im annoyed. i dont wanna work 😫#unrelated
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yosh-iro · 7 days
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mfw i try to draw something but it looks like something i wouldve drawn when i was 12 when i havent drawn since i was 12
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amylauren13 · 7 months
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-
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catiuskaa · 4 months
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need you to [Lee] Know.
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SUMMARY: minho loves you: to him, it’s as clear as water. Its only after he finds out that you’re starting to doubt it—he needs you to know just how much.
REQUESTED! here by an anonnie. I hope you like it, pookie, ‘cause I had fun doing this! <3
CW: slight hurt/comfort if you squint, but it’s just fluffy fluffy lino being really down bad and not knowing how to grasp it tbh which just gives me my serotonin dosis for the rest of the month lol
WC: 1.2k
A/N: also omfg kats posting two requests on the same day? that’s right baby, look at me go! 🤩🤩🤩
[🔅★����★🔅]
Minho was not the type to show his affection.
He comes off more like a shy kitten that slowly gets used to you, your sweet smell and how soft your touch feels, and then slowly opens up.
“But, uh… can I be real with you for a sec?”
It’s a feminine voice with a strong accent. He can hear it comming from your room, and the slight glitchiness of it makes it obvious that it’s a phone call set on speaker.
“Sure.” He can almost see you shrug, but he just closes the main door as soft as he can, pleading for the cats to stay silent for a little bit longer.
Minho can’t exactly place together why he’s overhearing your phone call. He knows who you’re calling, he can recognize Chan’s sister by her tone. But still, he keeps quiet, gently placing his bag down and silently taking his shoes off.
“I just— and don’t get me wrong, but, your boyfriend kinda seems… bored of you.”
What? Minho has to hold back a scoff, remaining as still as a statue next to the front door. He’s waiting for you to deny it.
“You think so?”
And then, he frowns, because you didn’t. Instead, your tone sounded hesitant. Dubious.
As if you weren’t sure if Minho loved you.
“You say he keeps cancelling your plans together. He has stopped making time for you. Like, girl, you can’t remember when was the last time he told you he loved you.”
Hannah pauses, and that only makes it worse, because it lets every word sink in.
“I uh, well. I ain’t gonna say that he should throw flowers at you every single second, but, uh, you know.”
He can only hear you groan loudly, almost picturing that cute motion you usually did when he meaningly teased you, taking your hair and covering your face with it.
“Can’t say anything for sure with him,” Hannah adds. “But, just by what you’re saying…”
Minho’s heart clenches tightly in his chest. He doesn’t want to keep hearing this... this nonsense. God, he loves you. And you… can’t see it? Frowning, he starts walking to your room, but his movements end in a halt, his hand just above the doorknob, threatening to grasp it and fully open the door.
“Girl, it’s gotta be late down there. Sorry this whole call was about me.” Your chuckle comes off slightly dry. “I’ll talk to you later, ‘kay? Go get some good sleep.” Your tone just screams how bad you’re feeling, and it just makes his chest swell with guilt that slowly creeps up his body.
Maybe he had been taking you for granted?
He opens the door as soon as you press the red button, sighing loudly after ending the call. When you see him, you jump in your place, startled by his presence, and you stand up awkwardly.
“Minho!” You say in a squirm. He can’t help but cringe slightly.
“No.” His tone sounds childish, like a petty toddler who didn’t want to eat the carrots in their lunch.
You frown slowly, the slightly wary grimace melting on your face, allowing a soft confusion to step in.
“No what?” You mutter.
He walks to you slowly, and grabs your hand, taking it to his chest, pressing it flat against his clothed skin, over his heart. You can feel his heartbeat, a not-too-slow rhythm: thump, thump, thump.
“Call me by a pet name. Any pet name.” He says, his tone equally firm and soft. “Call me by a pet name and say you love me.”
He’s serious, but god, so fucking nervous. His brain is slowly melting away because he’s so bad with words and he isn’t sure any action could be enough. He’s already blushing.
“I, huh… I love you, jagi.” You mumble, still confused.
And even if you don’t say it as fondly as always, or if your smile isn’t beaming like how it usually did, you can feel his heartbeat quickening.
“You can feel it, right?” His eyes are soft and worried.
Oh, God. You just know you’ve gotta be pouting. It’s hard to react with words, and the only thing you can fathom doing is linking your arms behind his nape and sinking your face on the crook of his neck.
“Min, I’m so sorry.”
“N-no, kitten.” He mumbles, hugging you tightly too. “I am the one who’s sorry.”
He breathes in, drowning in your soft fragrance. Home. It’s you, it’s warm, and he loves it.
He loves you.
So, he says it. He has to say it. He can’t not say it.
“I love you.”
And it feels so good to let it out that he chuckles. He has to say it again. “I love you.” And again. “God, I love you.” Just once more. “I love you so much.” He’s giggling like a fool, but he’s a fool in love, and that makes him blush even more. “I can’t not love you. Not loving you would turn everyday into Mondays. Like, I can get it tattoed if you want me to. I just. I love you so much that ‘I love you’ can’t even—.”
You move from his shoulder, now facing him, and you cradle his face, pulling him in a kiss that’s so sweet that threatens to give both of you type 1 diabetes.
“Y-you’re crying.” Minho mumbles, softly brushing the stray tears away with his thumb.
“It’s your fault, silly.” You sniff, giggling too. “How can you say stuff like that?”
Your heart is beating like crazy, the butterflies in your stomach are multiplying by seconds and in your cheeks glistens a bright and deep shade of pink.
You want to say it too. But in his own way.
So, you take his hand and settle it on your chest. Right above your heart.
It’s a rapid thump thump thump that Minho feels right away. He can’t help but smile widely.
“I super-mega-love you.” He teases, picking you up in between his arms.
You’re laughing, squirming in his hold.
“Lee Minho! Put me down!”
But he just grips your body tighter to his, and walking as if you weighted nothing, heading towards your bed, plopping you down there.
“Good girl.” He snickers, and you blush even further. Minho takes your chin tenderly and pecks your lips. For a moment, certain kind of idea flashes through his head, but he just kissed you again, following his previous thought.
He opens your closet with a toothy grin, and halfly eyes the window before picking up a random shirt, a grey hoodie that used to be his, a dark skirt and your thigh-high socks, going as far as to the suspenders for you.
He then turns to face you, his eyes glowing. He can’t wait to see you all dolled up. Minho feels like a teenager, and he loves it.
“You have twenty minutes.”
You blink at him, and you can’t help but smile, confused.
“I’m taking your cute ass to a date.”
It may not be an instant fix to the struggles to your relationship, but as you two walk down the beach, looking for colourful rocks that match each other’s eye colour, you know that he’s worth fighting for.
Regarding Minho, he happily hums to himself, eyes glued to your figure as you cackle and run in the beach, as you look behind you and giggle at the prints your boots leave in the humid sand.
He smiles, running towards you, tackling you and holding you in his arms.
He’s not letting go anytime soon.
~Kats, who always struggles to choose a picture for the fics because istg lino looks good in every single moment!!
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possum-tooth · 2 years
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finally linking up tmrw. scarie!
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mickyschumacher · 7 months
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NGL I LOVE UR WORK... ive been hopping thru ur m.list since the last hour.... its currently 1 am and i have an essay to finish before 8 am(im sure my prof will give me more time ik dey love me) anywasy i was wondering if u could do an enemies to lovers with Lewis((like really hated eachother)the reader could be a driver its oky don mind what she does) and then they were arguing abt sumting lewis says something thats completely out of the line and she starts crying in front him then he just kinda leaves her be, a few days later he would go on then apologize to her abt wat he said and then more fluff. (just ignore this if ur not into it or not takin a request at the moment. but im actually just hapi i kind of got the courage to ask u for a request also ur stories are soooo good i admire and envy u at the same time.)
𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐌𝐄  .ೃ࿐
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𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: as lewis's former teammate, there are lines that shouldn't be crossed. but a bad move from lewis puts him completely out of line.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: enemies to lovers trope!, poor humour, some fluff, in depth moment of an alternated 2021 wdc (apologies in advance), therefore ANGST, bad race jargon, horner and masi discussed :(, mention of intermittent explosive disorder, misogyny, allusion to racism (not from the reader ofc!), shitting on the fia for a bit, lewis kinda being a dick for probably an unfair reason lol, a proclamation of feelings from sir lewis himself
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lewis hamilton x red bull!driver!fem!reader
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+
𝐀/𝐍: you're too sweet to me! 🤧 i couldn't tell if you wanted this to be romantic but i went that way in the end! hope this was good! ♡︎ very very loosely based of swift's 'right where you left me'. but if you argued it wasn't, i would be inclined to agree. proof-read...ish?
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆
No one ever truly understood your move to Red Bull. It was in 2019, far from when Max was practically living on pole, so Red Bull wasn't exactly a threat to Mercedes, your previous team. Toto had even put a three-year extension on the table several months before your contract came close to expiring.
Yet you had chosen to sign with the devil.
When the commentators, journalists, and fans took a closer look at your decision, the only thing they could all collectively agree on was that you had moved to Red Bull because of Lewis Hamilton. Because you both couldn't keep your differences aside and Lewis had finally struck your last nerve.
While you weren't quite sure about the last part, the first was true. You had Lewis had never ever exactly met eye-to-eye. Every F1 driver had a specific style of driving. You liked to call Lewis' the 'calm before the storm'. He raced with a composure and maturity that most drivers did not hold. He was particularly calculative and the everyone loved him.
You, on the other hand, had given yourself a new nickname along side 'Flash 13' because you did everything in a flash: you overtook ruthlessly and calculated, you pushed the car till it was undrivable, and you were decisive to the very nanosecond. But you had also garnered yourself the name 'IED', after the behavioural disorder.
In part this nickname was due to the misogyny you faced as the only current female driver in F1 but also due to the sheer anger that bursted out of you whenever you encountered Lewis.
The amount of warnings Toto had given the both of you was simply endless. He had even resorted to putting you two with the team therapist.
The source of your hatred for each other was as clear as day. You hated Lewis' arrogance because somehow it was even worse than Rosberg, Alonso, Räikkönen, and Verstappen. And Lewis hated you for your 'perspective'. You didn't know what he initially meant by that but you regretted asking him. He said you needed to be stronger to be in F1 and that you were far too soft-hearted. Right after you had gotten your first ever pole.
It was ridiculous, to say the least.
No F1 driver was soft-hearted. You were all, simply put, a bunch of dicks. Not literally, of course. Naturally, following that comment, Lewis had pissed you off. He hadn't even had a second to know you before even making that judgement. It was ironic as well, considering your nickname that labelled your anger.
After watching Lewis win several championship titles with you following multiple places behind and seeing you only get angrier with each other, you had decided to call it quits for Mercedes. If people were going to take your annoyance and frustrations with amusement, you were going to head to the angriest team of all and leave your former team fuming.
Two years later, in 2021, you had finally gotten the perfect opportunity.
You hadn't really a clue how exactly Red Bull had made the 2021 car so well that you were matching the speed of Mercedes' car but you didn't care. You were matching Lewis. And Christian Horner was a happy man. A sexist prick but a happy man nonetheless.
Pole was either Lewis' or yours. Either he was a Grand Prix winner or you were. It was a game of cat and mouse, always in a constant pursuit of each other. The same went from your team leaders, Toto and Christian, who practically had the race director, Masi, on speed dial.
And by Abu Dhabi, you were equally tied, locked at 369.5 points. It hadn't been easy after getting penalised for multiple incidents against Lewis, but you were here. Lewis was trying to get his eighth championship and you your first.
You weren't sure how this was going to end. Heck, no one could've predicted what happened that day. But all you knew was that you were not going down without a fight.
You secured pole in Abu Dhabi which had put the entirety of Mercedes and F1 on edge. After a discussion with your engineer and several strategists, you had opted for soft tyres to further your advantage over Lewis.
Despite all of that, it was Lewis who had led the first corner after those red lights had gone out. It was only by turn six did you even get a lead. But it was a moment too short as your former teammate regained his top position by going off into the damn run-off area of the track.
You didn't need to scream in annoyance. You couldn't hear Horner, but deep down you knew he had already called up Masi, demanding an investigation. Your engineer reported to you that the stewards had dismissed it. The gap between you and Lewis was getting bigger, the race was coming to and end, and you knew you needed a miracle towards the end of the race if you wanted to win.
And that miracle was called Nicholas Latifi. The poor guy had crashed into Mick and the safety car was out on the tracks. Thankfully, they were both okay, but the timing of it was simply impeccable.
You had pitted to get new soft tyres and Mercedes was on the fence about heading to the pit lane in fear of the race restarting. So Lewis didn't pit. Miracle 2.
You re-joined the track with five lapped cars in between you and Lewis. And soon enough, Race Control had given the dooming message: lapped cars were not allowed to overtake.
The taste in your mouth was bitter. You had cussed out Horner, asking why you were even seeing these lapped cars in front of you.
Then came Race Control again: only the five cars in between you and Lewis were allowed to overtake. Miracle 3.
But of course, F1 had a flair for the dramatics. Because you were fucking restarting. Putting you and Lewis on a tight show-down for the final lap.
The bad news? Lewis hadn't pitted yet.
The good news? You could overtake Lewis. Miracle 4.
And the headline? You won.
You fucking won.
You were F1's first female champion in history.
You made history... or, well, herstory?
Yes it was controversial. Yes it was dramatic. Yes, questionable decisions had been made.
But you won.
By the time you had gotten out of your car and finished with screaming and crying in pure happiness, you had finally caught a glimpse of Lewis.
A small part of you felt bad. You knew for a fact, that these decisions weren't 'human error' as the FIA would go on to claim the following year in Bahrain.
It was entertainment. It was business. It was money.
You had both worked so hard this year. But the fight between an F1 driver breaking the record for the most championship titles and the first possible female champion in F1 was too good to resist.
Things between you and Lewis after Abu Dhabi hadn't gotten worse. You just talked far less than you normally did. You barely argued with each other anymore. It was disconcerting to say the least. Especially now that you were struggling to match Max's pace, always coming second or third as per the instructions of your engineer. For a moment you thought, what was the point of winning if you weren't going to win again?
━━━━━━━━━━━
You were still determined. Beating your own teammate would be hard. But you weren't a stranger to the idea. You had spent years trying to beat Lewis while purposely being the support for him to win. They were two actions they didn't go together but it had happened.
That being said, the venture was proving to be more difficult than you anticipated. In fact, it had caused a full collision with Lewis in the first lap of the Qatar Grand Prix.
You were so focused on beating Max you hadn't taken a second to look around you.
"What the fuck was that?" Lewis' voice invaded the air as he barged into your driver's room, ridden with sweat and still in his racing gear.
"Look, I'm sorry okay. I didn't see you. It was my fault. End of story," You told him curtly, not really wanting talk to Lewis any further.
"Damn right, you didn't see me. You could've taken me or anyone out! Are you so fucking stuck up your ass that you couldn't see me?" Lewis asked incredulously.
You scoffed at his accusation. It was true. But you didn't like when the truth fell from his lips... especially not when they sounded like that.
"Lewis, drop it. No one got hurt. Let's just move on okay?" You queried, annoyance dripping from your voice.
"Why? Can't handle the truth, L/N?" He laughed gently, almost mocking you. "Right... you were always like that."
You snapped your head towards him, raising a sharp brow. "Excuse me?" You spat as if to say he was becoming dangerously close to crossing a line he did not want to cross.
Lewis folded his arms, shrugging nonchalantly. "What? You don't like the truth. It's simple. I told you that you need to be stronger because you're too soft-hearted. And you hated that. And now that I'm telling you that you're selfish, you obviously can't handle it."
"Oh my God, you are one to talk. Lewis, you are so blinded by your arrogance that you can't see anyone else win. That's why you can't accept that I won right?"
"Not Abu Dhabi, aga–"
"Yes, Lewis, Abu Dhabi again. You are so fucking sour about losing that even when the hate targeted me, you let it. You let them say that my win was due to race and gender. Me, Lewis, out of all people, me."
No matter your differences, you had stuck up for Lewis on many accounts when it came to the FIA, 'fans', and haters. But he wasn't there for you.
You could see dark expression fall onto Lewis' face. "That's not true, Y/N."
"Then what was it Lewis?" You flailed your hands in exasperation. "Because you sure as hell didn't come to my aid."
"Because you didn't deserve it!"
You blinked blankly, arms falling to your side. Your mind took a minute to process the words that had fallen from his lips in mere seconds.
Lewis' face dropped as realisation struck him. What the fuck did he just say? "Y/N, I–"
"Get out," You grumbled.
Lewis did a double-take on the fresh line of tears accumulating on your waterline. He took a step closer to you, hands reaching out. "No, no, no, Y/N, I–" But your words made him stop.
"Lewis, get the fuck out of here before I start screaming like the bitch everyone thinks I am."
You watched Lewis return his hands to the side, clenching his jaw tightly as he made way to the door of your room. He stopped briefly, hesitating to open the door, taking one last glance at you before leaving.
━━━━━━━━━━━
Four days.
You had pondered in deep thought for four days. And after 72 hours, one thing had become obvious to you.
Lewis wasn't with you or any of the other drivers. He was still in 2021, right where you had left him. Not a second had gone by for Lewis where he hadn't thought about Abu Dhabi.
What if he had just pushed for Bono and Toto to get him in that pit lane?
What if he had veered the car a little to the side and you didn't overtake him?
Lewis was still reliving the worst moment of his career and his life and everyone had moved on. Sure, every fan and commentator talked about it time to time. But it was something of the past.
To say you didn't deserve your championship title... you had heard it from several 'fans' and insignificant others. But to hear it from Lewis? It fucking killed you.
You cared about his opinion more than anyone in the world. And he knew that.
You would've never said anything as shitty as that to him or anyone for that matter.
You had worked your ass off to get to F1. Fuck, you had won F2 two fucking times because no one was willing to let a girl on their team... into a man's sport. Every driver worked hard to a certain degree. But you were a girl who didn't grow up with the means of driving yourself to your death every day. If everyone worked hard, you had worked ten times harder.
Everyone knew that you and Lewis had fought. And by the looks of it, they also knew it was far worse than your normal fights. You wouldn't look at him, you refused to speak to him, you spent minimal time in the same room, you had even paid your media fines in full to avoid everyone...
Max had even become some sort of bodyguard, telling Lewis to turn back around when he neared the Red Bull garage.
All of this protection, and yet, he had still found you in your favourite place. The one you both came to when you needed to become level-headed. The top stand of any empty Grand Prix, in this case the México Grand Prix, where the air felt a little bit cooler against your heated skin and you could think for even it was for just a second.
You sucked in a sharp breath, seeing Lewis in your periphery while you were firmly seated. He looked nervous, chewing on his bottom lip and taking cautious glances at you.
"Hey," Lewis greeted, making you raise a brow at his lame entrance.
You forced yourself to look at the rest of the empty seats in front of you. "Hey," You mumbled back, trying to swallow the bitter taste in your mouth.
An unsettling silence enveloped the both of you. You were sure Lewis was here to apologise. But you could also tell he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Not in a selfish way. But in the most guiltiest way possible.
You sighed. "How are you?" You asked gently, peeking out of the corner of your eye.
Lewis winced at your question. Leave it up to you to still be this kind after what he had said to you. "Sorry. I'm so so sorry," He rasped, voice raw with the pain that had been gnawing away at him ever since those god forbidden words had left his mouth.
You nodded slowly, taking another deep breath. "I know you're going to call me soft-hearted but what you said really fucking hurt, Lew," You jested with a brief smile.
Lewis grimaced at your poor humour, before his ears perked up at the old nickname you had given him when you first started getting on each other's nerves. "I know. I'm an idiot for saying something like that. Or that you're soft-hearted. You've worked so hard for all of this. You absolutely deserve everything and that win was only the first of many, I'm a hundred percent sure of it. Your Dutch shortie doesn't really know what's coming."
You gave him a tight-lipped smile after huffing in amusement at his diss towards Max. "Thank you," you told him earnestly. "Although, I am quite positive he is like almost ten centimetres taller than you. But, thanks anyways."
Lewis rolled his eyes. "Have you seen me? You don't think I give off tall energy?"
"You mean tall in insults?" You joked, grinning at the blank look on Lewis' face.
Lewis sighed. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean any of it. And by 'it', I mean all of the insults and fights. I was just disappointed in myself. Even more so that I didn't stand up for you. I'm so sorry."
You drew your eyebrows together, turning your body to face him. Confusion filled you. "Then why did you say it at all?"
"I–" Lewis blew out a small laugh. "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Lewis, can you not see me dying here? Like a whole kitchen set of knives in my back?" You deadpanned.
Lewis rolled his eyes again. So dramatic.
He brought his hands together, staring at you briefly before looking at the empty stand. "Well, obviously, I heard of you before you joined Mercedes. I thought it was ridiculous that you had to get two F2 championships to get a seat, but anyways, I digress. Toto told me, he was considering you even though you had never been in the junior team.
And I remember just being so fucking jealous of you. Toto was consumed by you. He and Horner had been fighting for your seat for so long and now that they finally had an open seat, it was chaos. Toto won, obviously. And then we met each other in person for the first time and I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world."
You felt your heart begin to race and your skin heat at the sudden proclamation. "You... you what?"
Lewis smoothly glossed over the compliment. "And then we had our first quali together and you beat me. You got pole on your first race. So you were talented and beautiful. A crime, might I add.
And so when you came to tell me, you were so excited with all your talent and beauty, I was pissed. Because out of all things in the world, I had gotten an amazing competitor I was bound to feel for. I thought that by saying you were soft-hearted and all, it would get on your bad side and it would make me less attracted to you. It didn't. It got worse while it got easier to pretend to hate you."
You blinked blankly at him, cheeks aflame. Lewis Hamilton liked you. Your stupid teammate? The same one who's eighth championship you arguably took? "I'm sorry... hold up, we've been fighting for years because I'm a hot, talented, gifted, smart driver and you're a simp?"
Lewis squinted his brown eyes at you. "I did not include all those adjectives."
"I mean... that's basically what you said," You shrugged, flickering your eyes to the setting sun.
Where did all the damn cool air go? You wondered, pressing your hands to your flushed cheeks and feeling your soft palm absorb the molten lava known as your skin.
Lewis chuckled, picking up your flustered reaction quickly. He watched as you suddenly stood up. "Okay, well I'm... I'm going to meet Hugh and find a way to beat Max. See ya!"
Lewis paused, grabbing your wrist. "Wait? What? You aren't going comment about what I just said?"
You eyed his hold on your wrist: it was searing you. You turned to him, lowering your head to meet his gaze. You briefly looked down at his lips before looking back up. "I think I prefer hating you."
Lewis felt you press your lips on his cheek before walking past him. He watched your retreating figure, your kiss feeling heavy on his face, putting him right where you had left him: absolutely and utterly smitten.
© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑
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brighttears · 9 months
Text
Safe
Joel Miller x reader
no physical description, no use of y/n
Summary: After a startle at breakfast in Jackson, Joel calms you down from a panic attack.
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: graphic depictions of panic attack, negative self talk, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, darling)
A/n: just a lil somethin :3 also the panic attack is based off of personal experience just in case anyone is sus im not makin this shit up lol
Culture shock is the perfect term to use in relation to what it's like coming into Jackson after months on the road. It’s bright, vividly colored, large, loud, and always so fucking busy. You haven’t been around this many people since Boston, but so much has changed since then. It's been a few weeks now, but you still haven’t even figured out how to let your guard down. 
The dining hall is the worst part of the day. You will yourself to come and eat because you believe it is good for you, you need to get used to it, and you don’t want to other yourself by taking your plate outside. You feel separated enough already, like a wild animal being introduced into a zoo enclosure. But god, the scrapping utensils on plates, chewing, so much conversation, boisterous laughing, people getting up and down from their seats; so much open space with so much activity, you can barely keep your eyes down enough to be able to look at the food you’re trying to get into your mouth. But Joel is always right there with you, with a comforting hand on your thigh, grounding both you and him, eyes flicking around just as much as yours, and a matching sigh of relief once you make it back outside, with a ‘We did it’ or ‘Good job sweetheart’ to pick your spirits up. 
You don’t know what it is about today; nothing you can put your finger on, just some uneasy feeling that you woke up with. Some days are just like this, though, like a scratch you can’t itch somewhere in your brain, irritating your nervous system until whatever it is decides to let you out of its clutches. 
“Come on honey, time to go,” Joel says from the door as he pulls his jacket on. You let out a deep breath, staring out of the kitchen window with your arms crossed over your chest, an absentminded hand smoothing over your throat. Squeezing your arm with your other hand, you will yourself to move, leave the house, go down to the dining hall. Its just breakfast, just breakfast, just fucking breakfast. Come on. You can do this. You’ve been through much, much worse than this. Come on. 
“Hey,” Joel’s voice sounds suddenly from right behind you and you jump, sucking in a breath with a defensive hand jutting out towards him. 
“Fuck.” You breath back out, leaning down and pulling your hand back to you electrified chest, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You shake your head, guilty and embarrassed for reacting like that to Joel, who you know wouldn’t even dream of hurting you. 
“It’s alright darlin’, it’s alright. You’re ok.” He coos. 
Blinking hard, you nod, “Yeah, sorry, you just startled me. I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t tryna sneak up on ya,”
“No, I know, it’s just… I don’t know, I just feel… off today.” You say as you straighten up.  
Joel meets you slowly, placing his hands on your arms. “You wanna just stay in this mornin’? I can go grab the food or have Tommy or Maria—”
“No, no, I can do it.” You interrupt him and swallow hard. 
“You sure? There’s no shame in—”
“No,” you shake your head, “I’m fine. It’s fine. I’ve been through worse.” You smirk, trying to lighten the mood. 
Joel returns a light smile. His eyes fall to your lips, and he leans in for a quick kiss before turning back to the door. His touch relaxes your shoulders and you take one more deep breath before following him outside. As you start down the road, his arm slides around your waist. Even just a small gesture like this from your man makes you feel safer. When you feel his breaths, deliberately deep and even, you follow suit, and the two of you prepare for the upcoming onslaught of breakfast. Despite your efforts, though, you can feel your heartbeat quicken as you near the doors.
As you enter, Joel’s arm slips from around you but you grasp each other's hands as you walk to the table that Tommy and Maria are already sat waiting at, both giving you a smile as you come to your seats. 
“A bit late this morning.” Maria says. 
“Slept in?” Tommy winks.
“No, uh, just, late morning, I guess.” Joel replies, not meeting their eyes, instead instinctively sweeping them over the room. You keep your own eyes locked on the table. 
“You ok?” Maria asks. When you look up, there’s concern in her eyes. 
“Yeah, fine.” You throw a smile and look back down at the table, still linked to Joel by your hands.
“Well food’s out and ready, we were just about to grab our own plates.” You hear Tommy. 
“Alright,” Joel says, letting go of your hand and moving to get up from his seat. Just as you finally let your gaze up from the table, a crash and a scream sounds from nearby, and without even thinking, you’re suddenly on your feet, stanced ready, a hand on your empty hip and an arm swung back towards Joel. A yelp escapes from your throat and your entire body is rigid and burning with panic, chest twisted so tight it won’t let you breathe, teeth clamped so hard it hurts.
Then, silence. All there is is your breath, jumping like snapped rubber bands, and the blood rushing in your ears. Eyes still pinned open, you force your neck to move and look around you. Hundreds of eyes look back at you. Everyone is staring. However, your head is empty of embarrassment, still full of threat, threat, threat, threat, threat. 
“It’s alright, honey,” sounds from behind you, then a hand on your arm, and you switch your stance to face the touch, grabbing the hand while your other fumbles for the weapon that is not on your hip. 
“It’s me, it’s jus’ me, baby, it’s alright, it’s me.” 
Your eyes blink rapidly as Joel’s face comes into focus, the blurry haze of panic slowly starting to clear. 
When you try to speak, your breaths stab out from your lungs. “What happened?” You finally get out. 
“Nothin’, sweetheart, someone just dropped somethin’. It’s ok. You’re safe. It’s alright.” He tells you, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “It’s alright.” He whispers, focusing your eyes on his. “It’s alright.”
“Are you ok?” You hear yourself say.
His thumbs stroke your cheeks as he replies, “I’m fine. Nothin’ happened. We’re safe, baby. We’re safe.”
Though your brain is beginning to process and trust his words, you can’t move, only tremble. 
“Alright, let’s get you outta here.” Joel’s eyes come away from yours to flick around you, and that’s when you remember where you are. Muscles moving in snapping spurts, your neck jerks left and right, and still, hundreds of eyes look back at you. Now with room enough for it, embarrassment burns your entire face and neck. 
“It’s alright, honey,” you hear Joel, thumbs stroking your cheeks, bringing your attention back to him in front of you, “let’s jus’ get you outta here.” He nods, then shifts to beside you, one arm around your waist with his other hand rubbing your shoulder. You keep your head bowed, steps jagged with full body tremors. 
As soon as the outside air hits you, you begin to gasp, barely realizing that you’re sobbing. Joel catches you before you collapse. There's the panic, still shooting through you’ve been eletrocuted, but the humiliation is a whole other kind of overwhelming. “Fuck.” You cry into Joel. You bury your face deep into his shirt and jacket to muffle the screams that you can’t hold in. He squeezes his arms around you, rubbing your back, his chin resting on top of your head, whispering, “It’s alright, baby. It’s alright.”
“I’m such a fucking idiot.” You let out into him in between bawls. “I fucking hate this. I hate this.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. Come on, let’s get you back up to the house.”
Your trembling legs continue to betray you and you can’t get yourself to move. 
“I can’t–I can’t move.” You admit. 
“Alright, t’s alright, come on, baby,” He reassures, then hoists you up into his arms. Like a child, you wrap your legs around him, keeping your face buried in his collar, squeezing your eyes shut and attempting—with little success—to calm your breaths. The sobs fall out of you unrelenting as a waterfall. 
By the time you get to the house, your breathing has calmed some, but the shaking won’t stop. When Joel sets you on the ground you hobble up the short steps to the porch and through the door, and he keeps a comforting arm around you as he guides you to sit on the couch. He kneels down before you, stroking your cheek with his hand, trailing his eyes over your panicked frame before focusing them on yours.
“Deep breaths, baby, t’s alright. Deep breaths.” He starts them and you follow, breathing deeply in through your nose, holding, and blowing out through your mouth. 
“Where are we?” He asks. 
“At the–the house.”
“Where’s the house, baby?”
“Jackson. In Jackson.” 
“Thas’ right,” Joel cups your face, “we’re at the compound. We’re safe here, sweetheart. I promise. We’re safe. Nothin’s gonna hurt you.” He nods, you swallow hard and then let out another shaky breath and nod with him. 
Your trembling shoe taps the floor. When you still it, your shoulders start to shake. “Fuck.” You close your eyes, cursing yourself. “I’m so fucking stupid, I’m sorry.”
“No, no, you’re not stupid. How many times you been here with me like this? This stuff happens. You’re not stupid. T’s alright. Look at me baby,” you do, and he repeats, “T’s arlight. You’re not stupid.” Joel shakes his head, eyes still keeping yours. One hand shifts down to your fist, which you hadn’t even noticed bring clenched closed. “Let me get you some water.”
When he moves to get up, your hand shoots out to grip the lapel of his jacket. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m not leavin’, sweetheart. I’m jus’ goin’ to the kitchen. I’ll be right over there. Won’t take two seconds.” Joel gently takes your hand off of his coat, raising his eyebrows with a reassuring look, then gets to his feet. You turn on the couch, watching him go to the sink to fill up a glass for you. “I’m right here, see?” He says on his way back to you. You nod, eyes staying trained on him as he kneels back down in front of you. When the cup shakes in your hand, he keeps his on it, delicately helping it to your lips. The water cools your throat, helping you to ground yourself. You empty it into your throat and then take a couple more deep breaths. “That feel better?” You nod. “Alright.” Joel sighs, setting the glass down on the floor next to him to take your face in his hands again, then bringing his face up to kiss your forehead. “Alright, baby.” He says again. “This stuff happens. I get the same way, I bet plenty a people in there have done the same thing. T’s a lot in there. You’re not used to all that. Neither am I. Todays just a bad day, huh?” You sniffle and nod. “Now, you’re not stupid. Ok?”
“Ok.” you finally speak. 
“Alright. You wanna go lay down?” You nod, voicebox still not too confident. “Come on, darlin’.” Joel lets go of your face, reaching one hand around your back and the other to your legs for you to shift into his arms bridal style. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his collar, inhaling his scent of love and safety as the stairs creak under Joel’s feet taking you upstairs. 
When you look up at him as he lets you down on the bed, his brow is furrowed with concern and there's sadness in his deep eyes. 
Ashamed, you instantly look away. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you worry.”
“Baby I’m gonna worry no matter what you do.” He sits down on the bed next to you and strokes his hand over your cheek again, “You did nothin’ wrong. Don’t go hatin’ yourself for it. It’s not like you did this on purpose. Right?”
You shake your head and lean into his touch. Joel’s eyes land on your lips and remain there until he leans in to kiss you, slipping your bottom lip between his, and you reach your hands up to hang onto him. Knitting your hands into his locks with his stubbly cheek under your hand, you indulge in him. 
Pulling away, he says, “Lay down with me, darlin’,” already with his hand on your back to slowly guide your back down on the bed. He keeps his head above you to meet your lips again, gentle yet firm, honeyed and warm. Closing your eyes, the pressure of his body next to yours, hand on your waist, and his lips on yours begins to relieve the pressure in your bones. Slowly, you feel yourself relaxing, though your foot still twitches in your boot, the residual aftermath of a panic attack. 
Joel’s hand smooths over your cheek as he deepens the kiss, the sigh from his nose breathed over your face. When he pulls away, he shifts his arms to rest his hands on your face and stroke his thumbs over your cheeks. His eyes wander over you with lazy lids, his brow still lightly furrowed and bottom lip slightly pouted and wet from your mouth. He sighs again, then whispers “I love you so much.”
“I love you.” You whisper back, looking over his face. 
Joel leans down to rub his nose back and forth over yours, then sprinkles light kisses over your cheeks, forehead, by your ear, the corner of your mouth, and over your jaw. Then he shifts his body to lie down, tilting your hips towards him with a soft “C’mere,” and you lay your head on his chest, bending your knee to rest your leg over his. Closing your eyes and inhaling again, you let your body weigh into his and grip his lapel. Tears ball up in the corner of your eyes. 
You used to lay like this frequently on the road, keeping each other close, hanging on to the only sanity you knew. The lack thereof surrounding you protected you enough from falling asleep despite the relaxation it granted you, and you’d do it to watch the sun rise or set whenever you could catch it. When you did sleep though, you’d stay united, someone’s head on each other’s chest or leg. 
On the same train of thought as you, Joel speaks, the bass in your ear on his chest, “Maybe sometime we could actually fall asleep like this.”
“Not now, I can’t sleep now.” You mumble. 
“I know, darlin’. Too worked up for it now.” His hand brushes up and down your back, “T’s alright. Jus’ layin’.” Joel smacks a kiss on the top of your head, then sighs again, your head rising and falling with it, and wraps both arms around you. “We got time. N’ we’ll get used to it here. Get used to bein’ safe.”
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pastelspoon31 · 4 months
Text
Chapter 5: What a nice neighbour! (Older!König x Younger!Reader) - NSFW
tw: age gap (early 20s reader, AT LEAST mid-40s König), manipulation, non-con, somnophilia, drugging, gullible reader :(, a little bit of pseudo-incest, pretty much dead dove, coerced pussy inspections, König being a non-licensed gynaecologist lol
A/N: Editing this while wondering what the fuck is wrong with me (A lot)
Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | > Masterlist
Should you tell him? It's a pretty weird topic to bring up so casually.
He's still a man afterall, right?
Lately, you have been waking up with... a lot more discharge than usual. Thick white opaque liquid leaks out of your pussy and crusts onto the fabric of your panties.
You were confused, and a little grossed out, but after taking a shower and getting dressed, you forgot about the weird situation.
At least until you woke up again the next day and the same thing happened.
And the next day.
And everyday the next week.
And everyday the next month.
Was it something you ate? Was it a sign of cancer? Was it something worse?
You haven't had sex in a long while so it couldn't be that...
It had happened while you were sleeping over at König’s too, where he had been keeping you safe in his arms as you slept so it's not like you've been attacked.
The only explanation was that it was just your body doing its own thing, and there was no harm done.
Right?
"Hey, König?" You looked up at the man standing next to you.
"Yes, liebling?" He hummed, and you bit your lip.
"Are you... Uhm..."
"What is it, mein hase? He asked with concern, and you looked down, playing with your hands.
"Are you busy... today?" You nervously asked.
"I have nothing planned. Did you have something in mind, liebling?" He asked.
"No. Yes. Sort of." You muttered.
"I need your help with something.." You bit your lip nervously.
"And what would that be?" He hummed.
"U-Uhm... It's... embarrassing..." You murmured, and he tilted his head.
"What is it, liebling?" He placed an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer. "You know I'll do anything for you."
"Yeah... I know.." You nodded, "But this is weird..."
"Nothing is too weird, mein hase."
You blushed, and looked down, biting your lip.
"Do you mind... Accompanying me to the gynaecologist? I think there's something wrong with me.." Your face was red and your heart was beating wildly.
König bit his lip to hide a smirk, his mind already imagining what you were going to say.
"What's wrong? You caught something with your ex-boyfriend?" He pretended to ask.
"What? God, no! Me and Billy.. Well, I haven't had um... sex in a long while." You murmured.
"So then, why are you so worried? I'm sure it's nothing. Tell me, my late wife always complained about the same thing and she was fine." He pretended to be assuring to you.
"That's the thing, König. It's.. It's something gross.." You cringed for even having this conversation.
"I've never really had a guy close enough to me to talk about this.." You whispered.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, liebling."
"But it's different-"
"It's human, liebling. I'm sure it's nothing serious."
"No, you don't understand. It's... I don't think a woman is suppose to produce something.. um.. so much.." You whispered.
"-And i've never really... Had anything like this happen before.." You sighed, looking away.
"Ah, if you're that worried.. Show me then," König even followed up with a gentle smile that was so well crafted you couldn't possibly imagine him being the culprit.
"W-what? No! That's even more gross!" You squeaked and König's smile dropped, turning into a frown.
"Liebling, it's only natural. Don't you trust me?" He asked, and your blush worsened. "You see me as your father, ja?"
"Yeah.." You reluctantly answered.
"Then, there's nothing to be afraid of." He patted your head reassuringly. "If it makes you feel any better, I served a short period as an assistant to a doctor in my younger days serving in the military. I've seen and helped more women than I can count. I’m more than happy to help you if you want, liebling,”
You blushed and nodded, looking down.
"O-okay.. But promise you won't laugh or make fun of me.."
"Of course, hase." He gave you a soft smile and rubbed your back.
"Alright.."
You allowed him to guide you to his bedroom as you sat on the edge of his bed.
"Alright, mein hase. Whenever you're ready." König told you, and you nodded.
You hesitantly lifted up your skirt, and inched closer to the edge as you spread your legs about a foot's width.
"I'm going to need you to spread your legs a bit wider, hase. I can't see anything." He cooed, and you swallowed thickly and obeyed, your hands tightly gripping the edge of the mattress.
König's eyes immediately zeroed in on the wet patch that stained your panties, and he smirked to himself.
His thumb gently pressed against the damp spot, making you gasp.
"Is this the 'problem' spot you're talking about, hase?"
You nodded, and he gently rubbed his thumb over the fabric.
"König.." You whimpered, and he hummed, moving his hand away.
"I'm going to remove your panties, ja?"
"Mm-hmm.."
You nodded and watched him hook his fingers around the band of your panties, pulling them down slowly and carefully.
"Mmm, mein hase, it's worse than I thought." Your pussy was still red from the abuse he gave it the night before as you were sound asleep.
"It's.. It's been like that for a month. All.. red and sensitive..." You murmured out in embarrassment. 
"When I wake up, there's always a heavy white sticky discharge- A lot of it. And it's crusty when I take my panties off.." You bit your lip.
"And it happens every morning..."
"Oh, poor hase.." König clicked his tongue in sympathy. His eyes however, were set on your cute little clit nestled in the top of your slit.
"How does it feel?" He asked and brushed his fingertips against your labia.
"Mm.." You whimpered and bit your lip, "It feels sensitive.."
"And here?" He pressed his fingers into the skin around your lips, and you whined.
"Hurts.." You whimpered.
"Poor little thing.." He hummed, his fingers trailing up to your clit.
"Oh.." You gasped and instinctively closed your legs.
"No, no, liebling." He cooed, and opened your thighs once more, his finger rubbing circles on your sensitive bud.
"That's not!- You're touching my, oh~" You let out another gasp.
"I'm just checking, ja? To make sure nothing is wrong."
"O-oh, okay.."
You swallowed thickly and let him rub and stroke at your pussy, his fingers gliding against the wetness of your arousal.
"I don't see anything.. white that you mention of." He pretended to be curious as he lightly dipped his index finger into your entrance, your walls already trying to suck him in.
“But it’s always there every morning..” You tried reasoning with him.
"Well, I don’t see it. Here, it's mostly clear, hase.." He continued, pushing his finger further.
"K-König!-" You instinctively pushed yourself up, your hands resting on his shoulders.
"Shh, hase. We don't want the neighbours to hear you, now do we? It'll give them the wrong impression. I'm just examining you, afterall.."
"It feels.. weird." You murmured.
"Just relax, liebling." He soothed, "There's nothing to worry about."
He began pumping his finger in and out of you, watching how your body reacted and memorising all the ways you whimpered and suppressed your moans.
"Hmm... Have you been eating well? How's your diet?" He asked, pretending to be concerned as his fingers pumped in and out of you, his thumb still circling your clit.
Oh, how he was enjoying the way you struggled to form words as your hands gripped the fabric of his bedsheets tightly.
"I-I have.." You moaned.
"Have you been drinking enough water?" He asked, his thumb speeding up on your clit.
"Y-yes! I have. I have!-"
"I'm just making sure, hase.." He said softly, "I don't want anything bad to happen to my liebling, ja?"
"Y-yes, König.." You whimpered. "Are you almost done..?"
"Almost, liebling.." He said, "I'm just trying to find the source of the problem."
König pulled his fingers out, his middle and ring finger pressing against your entrance. The pulsing of your tight heat had him salivating at the thought of how he's the one that caused that.
"Now, just relax, hase." He cooed.
"I don't think-"
Your breath hitched and a moan escaped you as he slid his two fingers inside, pushing past your resistance.
"Shh, shh, liebling. Just relax, hm? I'm almost done checking." He hushed.
"Please, König, I don't think- A-ah!~"
König started fucking his fingers in and out of you, his movements slow and teasing.
"What was that, liebling?" He smirked from your reaction, his pace slowly picking up.
"Mm, it's sensitive, König! Too- ah! Much!"
You couldn't focus on forming words properly as the older man fingered you, your pussy already fluttering and squeezing his fingers.
It didn't take long before you clamped down on his digits, and let out a soft cry, your body shaking.
"König!-"
"There you go, hase." He hummed.
"I think we've found the source of the problem."
You gasped, your face a bright shade of red.
"Oh, God, König! I didn't mean to..!" You cried out, face red.
"Oh, hase, don't worry about it. It's natural."
"But-"
He pulled out his fingers and wiped it on the bed sheets.
"Frankly, I don't think there's anything wrong. Your discharge was clear. It's not white. And as far as I'm concerned, you've eaten a healthy and balanced diet and had enough to drink. You haven't been having unprotected sex either. In fact, you're very healthy, hase." He gave a deceptively sweet smile at you.
"B-but, König.."
"Liebling, you're a beautiful and healthy woman." He sat next to you and pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist.
"You're not in any danger, I can promise you that. It's perfectly normal. It's nothing to worry about.." He reassured.
"It's just something that happens." He kissed your forehead. "Nothing to be embarrassed about, ja?"
"Okay.." You nodded, your heart still pounding.
"Good girl. Now, put your panties back on. We'll go have lunch together at that place you like, hm?"
You smiled and nodded, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
"Thank you, König. For.. Helping me out." You murmured and he smiled.
"Of course, hase. Anything for you,"
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luveternals · 6 months
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paring: TF141 x male reader. rating: mature, MDNI. cw: (heavy stuff guys, I think) violence, death, implied suicide, failed suicide attempt, implied temporary death, morally grey reader, insanity, immortality, not a poly (lol too possessive irl for it, sorry). this story is... mostly just angst and mainly not finished (meaning possible serie? Idk). a/n: took me an eternity bc I didn't know who to write for... nice. Anyway, status update for steven grant x reader is scheduled for next week(Nov 30th). y'all went mad for it while I said I wasn't sure about it! lmao (psst, I approve) ~ ~ ~
When all sensations and feelings get ripped away from you, you realize that the wait is worse than pain.
And it grows more and more unbearable the longer years go by.
Wander the city without destination. Expect that cursed urge that comes yanking at your insides and guiding your body like a puppet. Never be sure when it'll come, but know that it will. At the start, it was nothing but a growing emptiness carving itself deep inside you, but now it’s become an insatiable hunger that never seems to leave you alone.
And when that urge eventually comes, it's worse than the wait. 
The knowledge that you are finally about to fill the emptiness as you follow whatever it is that it’s tagging you along. The realization that you are nothing but a selfish bastard who is letting his greed guide his very being. 
All at the simple price of a stole life. 
You stand on the edge of the roof and peer into the streets below.
The longer you wait the more you feel like you’re fading away, and the deeper the hunger grows. And so here you are, jumping over the edge and glading down through the air like a leaf falling off a tree. Your feet brush against the pavement without a sound as you land at the mouth of the alley, the breeze blowing louder than your presence.
Deep into the alley, a man presses his back against the farthest wall, terror blurring his gaze as he grits his teeth. One of his arms hangs limply against his side while the other presses against his stomach over the nasty slash sipping blood into the fabric of his tunic. His eyes jump from the approaching thugs blocking every escape to the sword he’s lost somewhere near the entrance of the alley. It lays at your feet, useless. 
The stench of death grows stronger the larger the stain of dripping blood grows under him. You creep closer, waiting.
“Sorry, pal,” one of the attackers says, a nasty grin tagging at his lips, “it’s you or us, y’know. Gunna be luckier next time, ay?” he raises both his arms over his head and brings his sword down onto his victim wih a final ‘whoosh’.
Blood splatters into the wall and the thieves are onto the body before it can even fall onto the ground, ripping at its belongings like vultures. It takes them less than a minute and soon they dart out of the alley cackling and whooping.
You stand over the body, staring at the despair frozen into its expression for what seems an eternity. Then you crouch down and lower yourself over it. A shriek cuts through the air but you are too far gone to care for it. Your body feels heavier as your soul sinks lower, bones and flesh latch into your very being. You let yourself go, ignoring all sounds that break the still silence surrounding you and all voices that echoe inside your head.
What if this is another failure? What if this is actually not possible?
You try to open your —his— eyes, but the lids are heavy and when you finally do open them, your vision is blurred. There is someone staring down at you, their hand slapping at your face to keep you awake. “—hear me? Help is on the way, but you need to stay awake.” Their voice is muffled, as if trying to talk to you through water, but their concern is palpable even for your half-conscious brain. 
You grin at them.
You did it. 
You’re alive!
-
They've gotten good at it, you'll give them that. It hasn't been a month yet and they've already found you. 
Granted, it's gotten challenging to stay hidden for longer than a few weeks before your needs start to mess with your head. 
You're running, slipping through the crowd with delirious laughter. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and you watch the helicopter follow your every move. 
You won't be able to hide. You're trapped, and they know. 
You shove a man out of your way, jump over the railing and land on the sidewalk below with a roll. 
They've blocked the traffic and redirected it to keep any car or vehicle from running your way. 
“They're learning,” you grin and glance over your shoulder, making sure they can see your expression. “Let's see how much, though.”
You push forward and rush your way to the other side of the road to the railing of the bridge. It's a fall of over fifty meters. This body will not survive the impact with the water below. 
You're at the railing when something stabs into your side and an electric current sends your senses to overdrive. 
-
You wake up hurting. And it's one of the most intense pain you've experienced so far. But before you can scream at it, numbness spreads through your body, and all your senses grow muddled. 
You can't move. You can't feel. Only see and hear, though even those are muffled. 
It reminds you how it is to not have a body and not be able to do anything about it. 
It's worse than the pain. 
-
The second time you wake, you're sitting in a chair, head hanging and limbs restrained with more chain than it's probably strictly necessary. 
The numbness is gone and you let yourself let out the softest sigh of relief. 
There's a camera blinking at you from a corner of the ceiling and you let a smirk cut through your expression. It's sharper, meaner than you usually would give your hunters. But the memory of numbness they put you through sends phantom tingles to the end of your fingertips, and you can't find it in yourself to be anything but nasty right now. 
There's an ugly, useless table made of metal before you, and you don't even stop yourself from rolling your eyes at it. 
Right. At least they're not some mad scientist cutting you open to study how you work. Not that they'd find anything useful really. 
The door past the table opens and your captures finally make their entrance. 
“Is this how you make friends?” you says, leaning back into a lazy slump, despite the restraints, to stare at them as they move deeper into the room. “You electrocute them and tie them up with a nice, little steel ribbon?”
They're all wearing full masks (skulls, how fitting) and gear, covering most of their features besides the more obvious. Their height and the like. 
It doesn't bother you. You're not here to familiarize with them, but it would have been nice to see the faces of those who've finally managed to catch you and lock you up. 
“Have you no shame?” one of them says, but his tone doesn't betray his true emotions. He sits on the chair opposite yours and folds his hands in front of him, resting his arms onto the table. 
There's four of them, the ramain three spread around the tiny room. Standing by the door or looming over your shoulder like a creep. 
“You steal the faces of others and make whatever you want of their lives.”
“So? They are dead. Like it or not, they won't miss their lives since they'd already found a new one on the other side.”
There's nothing to hide here. They're simply trying to guilt trip you. Everyone knows what you are, and the world has been alerted about your existance. It's just that they've never managed to catch you. 
What you do might be cruel to some. But to you, it's the only option you have to live. 
Your 'victims' — as everyone so loves to call them — are already dead by the time your soul replaces theirs. You have never killed anyone but yourself and consequentially their empty body. But you have never taken the live of another to make it yourself with your own hands.
All you are doing is trying to keep your head above a water that is a life with no ability to feel. Sensations and emotions both. All you are doing is keeping from losing yourself to madness. 
Is it too much to ask? 
“They might be dead. But you're hurting those you love and care for them.” the man says, “dying isn't the problem. You are not the one hurting. Those who you leave behind, they are the ones to really suffer.”
The words are like a sword through the heart, sharp and incessantly slow as it sinks in. You hang your head and grit your teeth. “Shut up.”
Laughter echoes into your ears. 
“Shut up!” the chains rattle and strain when you throw yourself forward. They leave angry bruises on your skin. 
“This is not the end,” he smiles and cups your face, his frail, trembling hands passing through your cheeks as he forgets himself. “this— you'll find a way when you're ready. And I'll see you on the other side.”
~ ~ ~ reblog, comment and/or follow if you like what I write. please and thank you. without feedback I don't have a reason for keeping this blog alive, since I created it so I can practice my writing.
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insertsomthinawesome · 4 months
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I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!! Okay so honestly I have been very very inconsistent over the years with just disappearing for periods of time due to various things 😂 So it probably seemed pretty normal to most people.
But it felt different on my side, so I'm excited to be back in business. I took a month long hiatus! 31 days of not drawing digital art. Its not something I talk about on here? But I've been suffering from some serious long term Art Burnout for.... a really really long time. Long enough that I should've taken a break probably years ago. It finally got so bad that I could barely draw. I was scared to do it (cause it always looked "bad" in my eyes [i'll come back to that]) and doing it was exhausting and disheartening.
I talked it over with somebody and realized that the fear and anger and frustration I felt towards my own artwork was uh. Not Normal or Healthy. And I finally committed to taking a real break for once.
I still drew a little bit by hand? Traditional art has always felt like it has lower stakes for me (i don't often share it online, and sometimes I don't even share it with friends) so I did some of that when I felt like it. But Digital art was completely off the table.
I had put such an immense pressure on myself to make my digital art perfect, to make as much of it as quickly as possible to satisfy something. It wasn't fun anymore. I'm proud of what i've made over the years! But for a long time now the stuff I've been making was made while hating every second of making it. With some rare exceptions.
I hated my art! It was a combination of Perfectionism, taking in too many external expectations, and the burnout. If you hate doing something its kinda hard to love it even when you want too lol. It wasn't "Bad" in the sense that the quality was low and it was ugly! It was "Bad" in the sense that it was unhealthy for me to keep doing it at that point in time.
I'm glad to report though, that with my hiatus officially over as of Wednesday last week: I am once again. In Love. With doing art, and being an artist :)
I put off taking a break for years cause I was scared that taking a break would mean that I would never achieve all the things I wanted to do with art. I was scared it was a stupid and lazy thing to do that would mean I'd never achieve my dreams. And Also even though I kinda hated drawing, I also loved making art. Its a weird duality that I can't even really explain??? I hated it but I also loved it. I wanted it but I also wanted to run from it. It wasn't until I was more mature and had more clarity and insight (and unfortunately also until the problems got worse) that I was finally able to let go of those fears and just do it.
And I'm really really glad I did. It was everything I needed. And I hope to strike a better balance in the future with art. Taking more breaks when I need them, or just when other things have my attention like reading or Video games (Some star rail got played during this time xD)
From the outside things probably aren't going to be that different?? At this point I don't really have any sure plans to post anything I've been drawing since my Hiatus ended. I might or I might not xD I'm still a hobbyist artist taking things at her own pace, but I hope that it shows how much happier I am :)
Whumptober 2023 is being officially put to rest by this post btw! I was in major burnout when that event started, and I'm ready to just, move on from all the past expectations I'd shoved on my shoulders. If I feel like filling any of the prompts or going back to any of the ideas I'd come up for it I will! But I'm not going to worry about doing it unless the desire sets in. Thanks to everybody who's been so kind to me throughout my time on here as an artist! Ya'lls tags and screaming and kind words, the fanfic, the asks and the responses? Its been fantastic :) You guys have made me laugh, smile, and cry tears of joy. I hope from here that things only get better and sweeter! And if I have bad days again, that's okay too.
Here's to 2024 and whatever it may bring ya'll :D 🎉🎉✨✨🧡💜
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