#i still remember how funny this was back then... youre all still so funny now :(((

[poguesprincess]

please more teasing bff!jj i’m so down bad for him. wanna give him a lap dance and watch his face get all red🤩

luckily for you teasing bff!jj (or any jj) is my brand! i kinda strayed away from the ask a bit but hopefully the point still stands.. here you go sweetheart <3

♱ ‧₊˚ jj maybank is your best friend.

you remind yourself this as you stare at him from across the crowded room. what he’s brought you to doesn’t necessarily constitute as a party, but it’s certainly too large of a crowd to be considered a small gathering. whatever it is, there’s some faint music, drinks, chatter.

he was your best friend, and maybe it was the 2 or 3 odd beers you’d had already, but he looked, for a lack of better words, yummy. like one of your usual boytoys you’d seduce on a night like this. still slightly upset with him from whatever bickering argument the two of you shared in the car before, it also beckoned you to have some fun with him. rile him up. again, the drinks were talking.

which is why you slam down the half empty bottle in your hand on the counter, its contents splashing over your fingers and onto those of whatever boy had been talking your ear off the majority of the night, storming off and away from him without a word. jj catches a glimpse of you, and his focus drifts away from his own conversation. he’s your best friend. you try to remember this.

but, the closer you get, the more it slips your mind, and the more the drinks whisper how good he looks.

“i want to dance.”

“what happened to princess over there?” he points to the boy you were with before, and you not that you now have two men very clearly still annoyed with you.

“not good enough.” his face is full of protest, but he lets you lead him outside anyways, where the music is louder, the crowd is fuller, the consequences are duller. the two of you dance, but it isn’t enough. slipping from under his arm, you hold his hand in yours, back facing him, and your hips sway faster. jj maybank was an easy boy. a boy like other boys. you knew how to get back at him.

he’s hardly paying attention to you until he realizes the gap between you two is closing, his face pinking up at the proximity. jj never really knew how to deal with having a really, really hot best friend. he tried his best to ignore it. but it didn’t change the fact that he was painstakingly attracted to you, and that the girl he’d sworn himself off of was now slowly grinding her ass onto his crotch. chill, he told himself. just chill.

“the fuck are you doing?” are you trying to get me to fuck you?

“dancing?” you bring his hand down and rest it on your hip, encouraging him to take the lead (you knew he couldn’t). you could feel how tense he was, blue eyes boring down between the space where your hips roll against him. you can hear him utter a small fuck, hands shaky as he tries to keep his cool. you turn, and it takes everything in you not to laugh in his red hot face.

“jesus, maybank, is this how you get every time a girl tries to dance with you?” he’s sputtering, too focused on trying to seem normal— collected, in the public space, feet fumbling as he tries to hide his nervousness with his dancing. you’ve never seen him like this before. the thread snaps when you bend over slightly, hands on your knees, and you feel his strong arm grip yours painfully, practically dragging you as he makes his way back to his truck. you struggle to contain your laughter. he’s still red in the face when you turn to look at him, still spilling over his words as he tries to curse you out.

“think you’re funny, huh. real comedian over here.”

“oh, jay, you should see your face!” you’re doubled over at this point, clutching to his bicep, and he’s desperately trying to shove you into the car. “just get in!” he’s frantic, and you assume it’s because he’s embarrassed, but you can’t see the imprint of his hard cock in his jeans if you’re too busy giggling in his truck, rather than in his arms.

#꒰ ۫ ੭ requests! ୨ৎ ꒱ #weirdogirl888 #εïз jj maybank prompt ! #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank smut

[bkglovergirl]

♡𓂃Oversized teddy bear?

Bakugou X Reader

𓏲Things start getting into motion after Bakugou set some ground rules for him to be your husband. Now, Bakugou doesn't retaliate against you in the dorm, but what happens when the couple has to train and battle together? Will Bakugou slowly start breaking down his rules? And you are under mental stress on why Bakugou is acting so weird.

Word count; 3.3k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

You groan, stretching. It’s so bright, and this has to be one of the worst nights you've had in ages. You turn and face the TV, forgetting you passed out watching movies. “Why the hell are you out here?”

“Not too loud..” you sit up yawning.

“I wasn't even loud!” you winch giving him a death stare. He’s in the kitchen washing the dishes and he has.. an apron on? You can’t help but stare because he in fact doesn't have a fucking shirt on!

“No fucking way.”

“What!?”

“Are you wearing a fucking apron?!” You laugh at him which seems to be a pattern now.

“HEY I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE NICE AND DO THE DISHES FOR YOU!” The scoreboard goes up a point 

“You just keep surprising me with how much of a big dork you are!” Bakugou quickly wipes off his hands and makes his way to you. You try catching your breath but seeing him in full view makes you laugh even more. He makes a low growl and pushes you down onto the couch, moving himself to sit on you. Not putting so much pressure as his weight would clear your windpipes but enough to make you trap. You stop laughing admittedly and stare right up at him, going quickly from finding everything hilarious a second to go, to now being turned on. “What are you doing dipshit! YOU ARE HEAVY!”

“It made you stop laughing at me, and frankly, I’m getting tired of it being a daily occurrence!”

“It's not my fault; your face is very funny!” Bakugou moves down a bit so that your faces are face to face, giving you a glare, and your face gets hot quickly. You chose to rationalize it that the heat is coming from him and not because you are blushing.

“Is my face funny now?” 

“As a matter of fact, it is.” You quickly glance over his body and look back at his face. You look like a full-on house husband.” Now it’s Bakugou’s turn to blush, and you decide to use this to your advantage. You put your arms around his neck. “Aww, does someone want a reward for doing the dishes?” The scoreboard shows four now.

“No. what your husband wants is for you to stop laughing at him!”

“I think we can achieve that ONLY if you do the dishes all the time.” You smile, “with the same outfit you are wearing now.”

“I thought you said I was a stingy bitch for having rules.” you move one of your hands to trace down his apron.

“Oh you still are.” and you push him off you. Bakugou blushing caught off guard mess falls on his ass and you quickly run to your room and slam the door before he could do anything else. You take a deep breath falling onto your bed, the heat on your face is overwhelming and you curl into a ball.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

An hour passes and you step back into the living room after changing into fresh school clothes. “I’m going out early for a workout,” Bakugou says putting on his shoes. You quickly grab his training bag and hand it to him. “Ok, you don’t want breakfast?” you're kinda happy he’s leaving and acting like nothing is happening. 

“No it’s fine.” he grabs his bag and gives you a kiss on the cheek before walking out notably quickly. You blush hearing the score go up another point marking you guys at having five. Maybe things didn't go back to normal.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

You and Midoriya are sitting in the common room, he is sitting extremely close to you as you said you wanted this to be top secret as you put it. “Do you remember how Bakugou gruesomely rejected me in middle school?”

“Yeah and you had sworn to me he was your number one enemy.”

“Well.. you know how he’s my Husband..” Midoriya nods, “He uh... Kissed me on the cheek this morning..”

“WHAT?” It looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head, “Our Kachan?”

“Don’t call him ours!” You hit his arm, and with an ouch, he held your hand down. Being both your self-proclaimed best friend, he’s had to watch this fake rivalry, and in his words, it’s been physically painful on him. As you both, without knowing, take your tension out on him, he has no complaints. This way, though, he knows more than both of you combined. 

“What caused him to do that?” he lets go of your hand and you put your shoulder on his head.

“Shoto gave me this idea-”

“Shoto?”

“ANWAY! Shoto gave me this idea because Bakugou wanted nothing to do with this whole situation. It was to make this as competitive as possible. I threw you in there, and BAM! He’s in with a few rules, of course. He seemed not interested at all. I was doing things to get us points, and he just went along with it, with the most effort he could put in. I didn't do anything! He just did it.” He hums in agreement and lets you know he's listening and he starts braiding a strip of your hair. Just like when you were kids he lets you rant while he plays with your hair, it makes him think better when trying to come up with solutions for your problems. “He rejected me. I know I asked him just to take this a little bit seriously but that!? What does that mean? You're a boy what does that mean?!”

“What it means in simple boy logic is he likes you.”

“Simple boy logic?! He’s not a simple boy! He’s Bakugou!” He laughs at you.

“True. But Katchan wouldn't just do that.”

 “I wouldn't just do what?” Speak of the devil, Bakugou walks in placing his bag on the table near you and Midoriya. He looks at the both of you. You two cuddled close with your head on his shoulder and Midoriya playing with your hair. This is normal. This has been normal since middle school but for some reason, the itch is back and his face gets hot with anger. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope! I was just leaving.” With that Midoriya stands up but you pull him back down.

“No, you weren't!” 

“Yes, I was!” 

“You both are a bunch of children.” Bakugou puts his two cents. Which weren't needed.

“Oh, were children? Let’s just bring up the chair, shall we?” You stand up, trying to intimidate Bakugou. To show that it doesn't work, he crosses his arms, but his shoulders are tense. “Or the fact that Midoriya here is points ahead of you.” Midoriya hearing his name be mentioned scoots away but you and Bakugou both give him a look and he stays still. 

“Why should I care how much he has?!” 

“Because someone can’t handle the fact he’s not number one at something! Clearly, he’s a better husband than you are.” Bakugou drops his arms in defeat. He’s ticked off, and it’s taking everything in him not to blow something up.

“If Deku is so great why don’t you be his wife!”

“I would but our points are so low I can’t!” Rolling his eyes he grabs his bag off the table and stomps off. You fall back down onto the couch and Midoriya itches back over to you.

“Well that could have been worse.” you kick him putting your face into your own hands.

“Shut up.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

Of all the days these training scenarios could have happened, today was the worst day. As All might put it, we had to work out balancing Hero work with your “partner.” The first scenario involves working on a team against another couple, and the second involves fighting a villain with a high risk of a “married couple” losing a partner, and we don’t know who is getting picked as the ‘victim.’ Your quirk and Bakugou’s quirk do NOT get along and the efforts to make them mash together at all are zero to none. Your quirk controls plants, much like Shiozaki but a lot more advanced. You can control all plants and the lighting effects which plants you can use and how effective they will be. If you make the plant prick someone you can give them a negative or positive association with the plant. Now you see why Bakugou and your quirk don’t mesh well together, he can set your pretty plants on fire. You and Bakugou got dropped into a dark area with pipes and wires all around you both. You have no way of knowing where the other team is which is Shoto and Yaoyorozu and that gives you guys a big disadvantage. You start growing cast iron plants and slowly they glide into the pipes and start exploring them meanwhile Bakugou grumbles around stomping trying to find anything that could give him an advantage. He doesn't and it causes him to let off some explosives which causes your plants to shrivel and burn. “What the hell man!”

“What?!”

“Don’t do that I’m trying to find them! And you're making them find us!”

“Can’t you use Mushrooms or something so I don’t gotta fucking tiptoe around your stupid plants?!” You glide the cast iron plants back through the pipes.

“Well, one mushrooms aren't plants they're fungi dumbass and two my plants aren't stupid!” you shiver, “found them.” 

“You did?”

“Yep, and no thanks to you.”

“Shut it.” You start running, and Bakugou follows behind. As you run down the corridor, ice starts forming all around. “STUPID ICYHOT!” Bakugou yells blasting the ice that's made his way towards him and only him. You let out a frustrated sigh and start using Lampranthus to move you around the ice having it attach to your feet and arms. It was going well, You see Shoto and Yaoyorozu and move closer to them but Bakugou blasts toward them and past you causing the plant to shrivel and causing you to fall. You panic not knowing which plant in the moment could handle the intense elements. The fall is big and over huge ice. You close your eyes and hug yourself but you overhear Shoto yell something and Yaoyorozu yell something. Instead of landing on hard cold ice, you land on a... Oversized Teddy bear? You look up and see Shoto smiling at you and Yaoyorozu gives you a thumbs up. Bakugou was right next to you. It looks like Shoto got to saving you before he could and he’s fucking pissed. His shoulder tense and so does his jaw. “DIE!” Bakugou blasts toward them with Shoto making an ice shield but with the blast's heat it doesn't do well and causes the pair to fall back. Shoto quickly incases the room with ice and causes some ice to form around Bakugou’s hands giving them time to escape. “Fuck!” he stands still trying to get enough sweat but it doesn't work, “Mother fucker!”

“Chill out! You are the reason they got away with the stupid impulse attack!” you run up to Bakugou looking at his hands.

“OH, I’M THE REASON?!” he looks at you like you just wished hell on his mother. “You're the one that let the enemy team save you!”

“Yes, because did you hear me say, Hey Shoto, save me? NO!” You open up your palm and grow a Deadly nightshade. “When I say now, you take this and eat it,” you grow the cast iron plants, and from your feet, they sprout, moving around trying to find the other team. “Got them.” Ignoring Bakugou’s grumbling, you start running, which he follows admittedly. You stop putting your hand out to stop Bakugou and before he can say anything you put a finger to your lips shutting him up. He’ll get you back for it later. Bakugou looks down at you, the purple plant wrapped around your hand and fingers like it’s home. He finally takes a look at your hero outfit. So engrossed in the fight he doesn't even realize that the new one you have been designing has finally arrived and don't ask why he knows you've been working on one. The dark green shirt is tight onto your skin and the sleeves go down enough to make gloves. The cut of the shirt shows off your chest and all over the shirt is little lines the plants could hold onto. You went from pants to a black shirt which is now really noticeable to Bakugou. The skirt's top and bottom also has attachments for your plants. You’ve always complained about your shoes and how they don't support your quirk and if you ask Bakugou why he knows this little fact he’ll say you complained about it so much it’s bolted into his brain but the truth is you only complained once. You have heel boots now and a normal person wouldn't want heels on your costume but you made sure you had them. The heels of the boots have a hole at the bottom, so one of your plants could slitter down and into the ground instead of having holes on a flat shoe which has always made you and your plants uncomfortable. You also changed your hair, it's half up from its normal ponytail. Bakugou knows why you made this change and it’s all for your plants. “I’ll distract them. Now eat this and when you feel the sweat break free and attack.” You hand him the flower and by hand, you bring it up to his mouth and he bites down. “Don’t eat it yet.” and you run out. You start spreading out Caladium, or heart-to-heart. You make the plant swarm around Shoto and hold down Yaoyorozu. Which works for a minute before Shoto shoots ice around your feet not causing you to get stuck but causing your plant to wither and even wither underground which was holding down Yaoyorozu. “NOW BAKUGOU.” And Bakugou trusts you. Bakugou trusts you so he eats the plant. Bakugou trusts you so he starts getting hot and sweaty but he also starts getting dizzy. Either way, Bakugou runs out and with the fever running through him, he’s able to break free from the ice and because Bakugou trusts you he sends his quirk full force which knocks out Yaoyorozu completely and causes Todoroki to stumble You take advantage of the heat caused by his quirk and send out the plant again, the heart to heart plant wraps Yaoyorozu and Shoto capturing them. A ding goes off and an announcement is heard claiming you and Bakugou as the winners. You celebrate smiling and run up to Bakugou, and in his confused dazz he smiles back before passing out.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

Bakugou groans the pain in his head is unbearable. He turns his body and suddenly he smells… lavender? He slowly opens his eyes. He squints just seeing bright white and slowly his eyes adjust and see you. Your head is resting on your hand and your eyes are closed. Lavender is growing out of your hair and it's looped around like the flowers were meant to be there. He smiles taking a deep breath before, “Hey!” You open your eyes and his smile is gone, He regrets yelling as his head hurts right away. 

“I am so sorry.”

“What are you on about?”

“I’m sorry! Aizawa chewed me out, and he’s right. I totally should have told you the repercussions of the flower you ate, and you wouldn't have taken it if I had. He took all our points as punishment, and if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be here, and we would be on to the next scenario training!” Bakugou stares at you, dazed.

“The fuck are you talking about? I trusted you so I ate it. Stop tweaking out, I wouldn't have done it if I didn't wanna. Simple.”

“But our points… and you won't get to train.” You grab your hair, causing some lavender petals to get all in it. Bakugou slowly sits up and starts picking the petals out of your hair.

“I said it’s fine, and we won anyway, so it's no big deal.” You smile at him.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

Never mind it was a big fucking deal because why the fuck is that stupid fucking Teddy bear in your dorm? Bakugou feels like the bear is staring at him tauntingly. “Why the fuck is that here?” he points at the teddy bear. You were in the kitchen cooking dinner and you peek your head out to see what he was talking about.

“After the battle, Shoto gave me it.” So while he was dead weight, Shoto comforted you and gave you the bear that saved you when he should have. That was the cherry on top.

“Shoto, Shoto, Shoto.” He mocks sitting on the couch, huffing like a child. That’s all I ever hear!” You let him pout like a baby and finish cooking dinner. You bring the plates out and sit in front of the couch, placing them on the table in front of you both. A point goes up on the board and you are back to one. 

“And your problem is?” You look at Bakugou as he quickly starts eating. He shakes his head and he keeps eating so you reach over and grab the remote. Or you try and grab the remote. Bakugou catches your hand and gives you a glare.

“No remote until you get rid of that stupid teddy bear!” You roll your eyes and laugh. Standing up, you grab the bear and walk into your bedroom. Bakugou watches you intently. You throw the bear on your bed, and with its size, it takes up a lot of space. “Not on your bed!” You look at him quickly.

“Why!?”

“Because I said so!” 

“You are crazy!” You shut your bedroom door and walked back over to the couch. “What is the issue?” He ignored you, and his hand was tense around the remote. “So protective of the remote,” you mocked, eating your food. You heard a grumble from him, and you two sat quietly, watching one of his shows and eating. After you two finished, you got up and grabbed the plates, suspecting that he’d keep being protective over the remote.

“What are you doing?” 

“Cleaning up?”

“Why?”

“Because you wanna hold onto the remote like it's life or death.”

“I’ll clean up, that’s my job.” He stands up with the remote. He goes to take the plates out of your hands but struggles with one of his hands being occupied. So he puts the remote to his mouth and he bites down and grabs the plates. You look at him funny.

“Are you for real right now?” Bakugou ignores you and walks into the kitchen. He starts cleaning. “You are so stubborn; it’s annoying.” You sit back on the couch and notice the point board showing two. You smile. Once Bakugou is done he comes and sits back down, he left the remote in the kitchen so you both are stuck watching the News. “I’m getting the remote. I don’t wanna watch this.” Before you can stand up Bakugou lays on on, you blush with your hands hovering over him. “Get up.” he ignores you. “Bakugou get up.”

“Katsuki.”

“What?”

“Call me Katsuki!” You stare at him before slowly placing a hand on his back.

“Why? I thought you didn’t care for the first-name bullshit.”

“Well, I’m tired of Todoroki getting the special privilege! I’m your husband, not him!” He sits up a bit, and your faces are close together. Your hand falls onto his.

“Alright, Katsuki.” He blushes and looks at the kitchen.

“Yeah, whatever Y/N.” You smile. He has had enough and gets up, walking into the kitchen. He comes back out and throws the remote at you before going into his room. The scoreboard shows five.

Tags and notes;

@andysdrafts @eyesforbkg @kukikoooo

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski #mha x reader #mha

[allmoshnobrain]

Hello

So i was thinking of 16 and 3 with 80s jason

this was such a fun request to write and i'm honestly in love with jason on this. hope you enjoy reading it, love <3

from this prompt list │requests are open! send yours here

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

jason newsted x reader │ word count: 3,1k

"I'm gonna kiss you. Cool?" he asked, and you blushed, giving a shy nod. "Man, didn't the guys you've been with ever kiss you?" "Not that much," you confessed, and he let out a chuckle. "You need to pick your partners better." "Quit giving me a lecture and just do it," you retorted, and he laughed before leaning in to press his lips softly against yours. 

✦ warnings and tags: NSFW!!!, jason newsted x female!reader, +18, language, mxf sex, protected sex (yay), oral sex, friends with benefits, pre-metallica jason (early 80s), reader is inexperienced but not a virgin

The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled your bedroom as it valiantly battled the stifling summer heat with a gentle breeze. You sighed, tearing your eyes away from the open magazine and glancing over at your best friend sprawled out on your rug, absorbed in your Atari video game.

You and Jason had been buddies since high school. You actually met him through your brother - they were in a band together for a bit before your brother bailed to help out your dad with the family business. But even after that, Jason just became a regular fixture around your place.

It was pretty common for the two of you to hang out in your room all day, reading comics, watching movies, or playing games together. Jason was a solid friend - he was chill, funny, and always looked out for you. It felt like he was practically part of the family by now. Your parents and your brother loved having him around, and you couldn't deny you felt the same way.

"What's with the sigh?" Jason asked, and you blinked, glancing down at him to see he'd paused his game, resting his arms on your mattress as he peered up at you, a mop of brown curls framing his face.

"What sigh?" you frowned, and he rolled his eyes.

"You just sighed. The upset kind of sigh," he explained, and you raised an eyebrow. Yeah, maybe after years of hanging out, Jason could read you like a book. It wasn't exactly news, but it still caught you off guard sometimes, how effortlessly tuned in he could be.

"It's nothing," you replied, and he raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. You blushed, shifting your gaze back to your magazine.

"Come on," he nudged your arm, and you huffed, glancing back at him. "I can tell when you're upset. What's up?"

"I'm not upset," you retorted. "Just... Ugh, fine. You remember that guy Flint?"

"That jerk Flint Jones?" Jason snorted, and you chuckled.

"Yeah, well, we went on a date yesterday."

"Damn, sweetheart," he laughed. "No wonder you're feeling some kinda way."

"Oh, shut up," you playfully nudged his head with your foot, and he snorted, grabbing your ankle and moving your foot away from his head. "He's hot, okay? But it's all surface. We went back to his van afterwards and... Well, it was terrible."

"Did he hurt you or anything? You want me to kick his ass?" he asked, suddenly serious, and you laughed.

"Unless you think he deserves a beatdown for having the smallest dick ever," you replied, and Jason snorted, blushing. "Nah, it's all good. It's just the same old story, you know? He just wanted a quick fuck, but he was all about himself. So I bounced," you paused, frowning. "...And then he had the nerve to call me today just to say I’m a bitch."

"Wait till your brother finds out about this," Jason whispered, menacingly. 

"Oh, hell no, you're not telling him. I don't need my brother getting all up in my business. As far as he's concerned, I'm still as innocent as they come," you chuckled, then grimaced. "I mean, it's not that far off. I've only been with three guys, but every time it's like, why did I even bother?"

"It was that terrible, huh?" he asked, gently, propping his chin in his hand, and you nodded.

"Sorry. Too much information?" you grinned, a bit shyly, and he returned the smile.

"Not at all. You know you can tell me anything. Even about your awful sex li... Ow!" he laughed as you swiftly left your sitting position to kneel down, giving his head a playful shove before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Shut up, Newsted. Just 'cause you're getting lucky doesn't mean you can rag on my sex life."

"Who said I'm getting lucky?" he chuckled, blushing a bit, and you rolled your eyes.

"Are you serious? I don't know what you did to her, but my friend Carol won't shut up about how amazing your night was. Like I wanted to hear all the details!" you exclaimed. Jason laughed.

“I could show you what I did to her,” he blurted out. You froze, raising your eyebrows at him. "Uh, I mean... You said you've never had a good fuck, so I thought maybe I could..." Jason trailed off, his words stumbling out awkwardly. "I just thought... Maybe if you had a decent one... Okay, forget it, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's cool," you replied hastily. Sure, you hadn't exactly fantasized about getting down with Jason, but you couldn't deny he had his charms, muscular arms and toned body matching the most beautiful wavy hair, blue eyes and a warm smile. Plus, you were sick of your own lackluster experiences and the hassle of trying to score in this town. There was just one hitch: you didn't want things to get weird between you two. Your friendship was cool, the coolest kind there was — you could count on Jason for everything, and he could count on you as well. You didn’t want this to change. “It’s just… Won’t that make things awkward?”

“It doesn’t have to. We’re friends, right?” Jason answered, shifting to sit beside you on the bed with a soft grunt. "I mean, if you're gonna dive into this, might as well do it with someone you trust. Better than messing around with Flint Jones," he joked, and you laughed along.

"You're such a dummy," you teased, feeling your cheeks warm as he inched closer, his hand finding its way to your cheek. “What the hell are you doing, Newsted?”

"I'm gonna kiss you. Cool?" he asked, and you blushed, giving a shy nod. "Man, didn't the guys you've been with ever kiss you?"

"Not that much," you confessed, and he let out a chuckle.

"You need to pick your partners better."

"Quit giving me a lecture and just do it," you retorted, and he laughed before leaning in to press his lips softly against yours. 

The kiss started gentle, a bit awkward at first, but you soon started to ease into it, feeling Jason's lips soft against yours. His scent, so familiar, surrounded you as he pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist. You found yourself leaning in, one hand resting on his thigh, letting out a little sigh as he nibbled on your lower lip.

“It's sweltering in here," you muttered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, saying it more as an excuse to take a small breather. Jason chuckled softly.

"I got you," he grinned, pulling your shirt off. You blushed, heart racing as his eyes roamed over your body, then meeting yours. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you replied, biting your lip. "Yeah, keep going."

He grunted, nudging you to lie back as he settled on top of you. You trailed your fingers along his stomach, tugging at his shirt to get it off. Your cheeks flushed as he leaned in, planting soft kisses along your jawline, working his way up to your ear, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

“Gonna teach you what a good fuck feels like,” he murmured, his voice gravelly as he pressed himself against you, his hardness meeting that warm spot between your legs. You sucked in a sharp breath, gripping his hair. "Feels good?" he asked softly, lips trailing along your neck before returning to yours, his body pressing against yours. You nodded, meeting his gaze, cheeks heating up; Jason had never looked at you like this before, his eyes full of desire as he watched the way you opened your mouth slightly, small sighs of pleasure escaping your lips as you felt the pressure of his hard cock against you. 

"Jase..." you whispered, reaching for his pants zipper, but he groaned, swiftly grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head. You let out a little whimper of protest, but he chuckled softly.

"Take it easy," he smiled. "Got a few tricks up my sleeve to show you first."

"Like what?" you breathed, and he grinned before letting go of your wrists, sliding his hands down to your back to unhook your bra. You couldn't help but sigh, feeling your cheeks heat up as he traced circles around one of your nipples with his finger, teasing it until it stiffened. He gave it a gentle pinch, and you couldn't hold back a soft moan.

"Has anyone ever touched your boobs like this?" he murmured, planting a soft kiss on one of them, and you shook your head no. He licked his fingertips to give them a little lubrication before teasing your nipple again, giving it gentle pinches and pulls. With a grunt, he took the other into his mouth, and you couldn't help but moan as he sucked on it, his tongue swirling around your nipple while he massaged the other with his hand. "Gonna make sure you know how amazing it can feel, babe."

"Oh," you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair as you instinctively moved your hips upwards, feeling a rush of pleasure and excitement. He pulled back briefly before latching onto your other nipple, teasing and squeezing the one he had just left wet and sensitive. Your eyes fluttered shut, breath coming in uneven bursts as you pulled him in closer. He continued to suck on your breast gently, leaving a little love mark as he unbuttoned your pants.

Your whole body tingled as he stripped off your pants and panties in one swift move. This was a whole different new experience for you; sure, Jason had caught glimpses of you in a bikini before, but being fully exposed like this was a first. Your cheeks flushed hot as he took in your naked form with a low hum, reaching out to grab your waist.

"You're so damn hot," he whispered, his own cheeks tinted with a flush. You sighed contently as he parted your thighs, his fingers exploring the warmth between them. A sharp moan escaped your lips as he teased your sensitive area, circling your wet entrance with his fingertips. "You're soaking wet, babe," he grunted, and you couldn't help but moan in response. He looked up at you. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah," you whispered, closing your eyes with a moan as he slid two fingers inside you, curling them gently. "Oh, Jase..."

"So damn warm and wet," he muttered, looking captivated by your reaction as he positioned himself between your legs, his warm breath against your clit. “I really wanna eat you out… Can I?”

"Yes, please," you whimpered, hips instinctively moving with his fingers as he curled them inside you once more. He chuckled, placing a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before diving down to your clit. A sharp moan escaped your lips as you felt the warmth and wetness of his tongue against your sensitive bud. "Jason..."

"Hmm?" he grinned up at you, his fingers working magic inside you. "You're squeezing around my fingers, babe... Feels good?"

"Feels amazing," you agreed, cheeks flushing. He went back to your clit, licking it in slow circles, and you couldn't help but moan, gripping his hair. A small gasp escaped you when he sucked on it, hips moving with his rhythm as you pulled him closer. He held onto your thigh, keeping you in place as he continued with increasing intensity, sending waves of pleasure through your whole body. "Jason," you gasped, eyes shutting tight as he kept his fingers moving inside you, pleasure building with every stroke. He pulled back momentarily, placing soft kisses on your inner thighs.

"It's alright, babe," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I've got you. Just let it out..."

You whimpered, tugging at his arm until he was back on top of you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue moving with yours as he slid his fingers away, focusing on massaging your clit in slow circles. You melted in his kiss, pressing yourself against him as you felt your climax building, each wave crashing over you until you were moaning louder and louder, your whole body trembling under his touch.

"That's it, baby," Jason murmured, sliding his fingers back inside you and hitting that spot that made you cry out in ecstasy, your walls clenching around him. "Just let it all out... I've got you, honey."

"Jase, please..." you sobbed, burying your face in his neck as you attempted to push his hand away. "It's too intense, I can't..."

“It’s okay,” he whispered, planting soft kisses on your hair while easing his hand's movements. You let out a shaky sigh, still tingling from the pleasure as you came down from your high. He chuckled, brushing your hair back from your face, his body warm and sweaty against yours. "You enjoyed that?"

"Hell yeah," you replied weakly, and he laughed.

"You wanna keep going?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Just need a sec to catch my breath, please," you whispered, and he chuckled before getting up. You watched as he peeled off his pants and underwear, blushing when you caught sight of his arousal. He grabbed his wallet from your nightstand, pulling out a condom before taking hold of his cock with his free hand.

"Wanna learn how to put this on?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

"I'm not that clueless, Jason. I know how to do it," you replied, sitting on the bed.

"Well, you wanna lend a hand, then?" he asked, and you nodded, cheeks flushing. You took the condom from him, tearing open the package. There was a moment of hesitation before you took hold of him, running your thumb over the tip and spreading the pre-cum over his swollen head. He let out a grunt.

“Want me to suck you off first?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you moved your hand slowly. He let out a soft moan.

"I'd love it, but let's save it for another time," he replied, his voice husky. You blushed, the thought of a next time sending butterflies through your stomach. "Today's all about you, alright? Just wanna make you feel good."

"Well, you're killing it so far," you grinned, and he chuckled. You slid the condom on him, then leaned back on the bed, spreading your legs. Jason looked at you, stroking himself slowly with a sigh before getting back on top of you.

"There's still so much I wanna teach you," he whispered in your ear, and you let out a soft moan. "Loads of ways to make you lose it for me... You have no idea how sweet you taste."

"No one's ever talked to me like that before," you whispered, heart racing as you blushed. He grunted, planting soft kisses on your neck.

"Their loss," he replied before easing himself into you with a slow, steady movement. You let out a loud moan, clinging to him as you opened your legs wider to take him in deeper. He kissed your jaw, fully inside you now, your bodies hot and sweaty against each other. "You good?"

"I'm good," you whispered, and he let out a soft grunt before starting to move slowly. You buried your face in his neck, moaning as you felt him stretching you out, hitting all those sweet spots inside you. It was intoxicating, the mix of gentle ache and intense pleasure, far beyond anything you'd felt with anyone else. Your pussy throbbed, extra sensitive after your last orgasm, and Jason moaned your name, pulling you closer.

You curled your toes, lips seeking his out eagerly, knowing you wouldn't hold out much longer, the tension in your belly rising fast. Jason kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he tangled his hand in your hair, your lips moving together in a frenzy of soft moans and gentle bites. You were completely lost in him, in the sensation of him thrusting into you, picking up speed as you gave in to the pleasure of each other's touch.

"Jase... I'm gonna cum again," you moaned, and Jason grunted, his thrusts getting harder as he used one hand to play with your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with quick motions.

You let out a sharp moan, feeling his hot, ragged breath against your skin as he showered you with soft kisses, driving your hips forward to deepen the connection. It was too much; your climax finally crashed over you, tears of pleasure rolling down your cheek as you held onto him tightly, your body clenching around him. Jason groaned, his movements becoming wilder as he was carried over the edge by the intensity of your release. He buried his face in your neck, fingers gripping your hair as his body trembled, delivering a few final thrusts before collapsing on top of you with a shaky sigh.

You closed your eyes, giggling as he peppered your jaw and then your lips with kisses. He slipped out of you, and you scooted over to make room for him to sit beside you. You watched as he disposed of the condom and headed to your bathroom. He was back in no time, his naked form gleaming with sweat, face flushed as he ran his hand through his hair.

"What's got you smiling?" he asked, a small grin playing on his lips. He settled down on the bed, running his hand over your thigh.

"That was amazing, Jase," you said, and he chuckled, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss.

"You feeling weird now or are we cool?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice. You smiled softly.

"We're good. We could be friends with benefits, right? I hear some folks actually pull that off."

"Yeah," he smiled at you, twirling a strand of your hair on his fingers. "So, does that mean we're gonna do this again sometime?"

"You were the one talking about all the lessons you had in store for me," you teased, and he chuckled softly.

"Okay. It's a deal, then," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief, making you giggle. "But hey, we better get dressed before your brother or your folks come back home. Pretty sure they wouldn't be too thrilled to find out how we spent our afternoon."

You burst into laughter, sitting up on the bed and rummaging for your clothes. As you watched Jason get dressed, a grin spread across your face, thinking about how rough it would be to go back to those crappy dates after experiencing how amazing it felt to be with him.

You couldn't wait to see what else he had to teach you.

#metallica #metallica imagines #metallica headcannons #jason newsted #jason newsted headcannons #jason newsted x reader #jason newsted x you #jason newsted smut #metallica x reader #metallica x you #jason newsted fanfiction #metallica fanfiction #ada writes fanfiction

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write - Day 93 🔞

Prompt: Juyeon loses his self esteem. Hyunjin builds him back up again.

Tags: Car sex, unprotected sex (it’s me. Duh?), belly bulge

A/N: This is based on a comment Juyeon made to a fan that he feels like a 4/10 which is flat out unacceptable so I’m channeling all my feelings into Hyunjin building him back up as is right & proper.

“Why do you love me?” Juyeon asked when he got in the car with Hyunjin.

“What?” Hyunjin looked at him.

“Why do you love me?” Juyeon repeated.

“You’re smart, funny, talented, gorgeous, kind, did I mention gorgeous yet?” Hyunjin replied. “Why?”

“I dunno what it is, but I’m feeling down on myself. Like people just say I’m attractive because they’re supposed to not because they actually believe it,” Juyeon looked down at his lap.

“I’m not sure who ‘people’ are, but I’m your boyfriend and I think you’re perfect and that should count for a lot,” Hyunjin turned off the car.

“Why’d you do that?” Juyeon asked, still looking down at his lap.

“Because I want to show you how perfect you are,” Hyunjin replied, climbing over the console and into Juyeon’s lap. Juyeon’s hands found their way to Hyunjin’s hips as the pretty blonde leaned down to kiss him.

“I love you more than I could ever put into words,” Hyunjin told him.

“I’m just me,” Juyeon gave a half hearted shrug.

“And you, Lee Juyeon, are perfect. Anyone who makes you believe otherwise is a liar and an asshole,” Hyunjin rutted his hips against Juyeon’s lap as he kissed him harder. Juyeon finally reciprocated, tightening his grip on Hyunjin’s hips. “And I want to ride you until I can’t stand up.”

“What? You want to bottom?” Juyeon stared at him.

“I figured I should try it at least once. See what the entire industry was so hot to try,” Hyunjin grinned.

“But you’ve never…and I’m…” Juyeon began.

“Firstly, just because I’ve never bottomed with you doesn’t mean I’ve never bottomed. Secondly, yes you’re impressively big, but I’ve also been prepping myself to take you,” Hyunjin replied, reaching between them to unbutton Juyeon’s jeans. He was still mostly soft. “Well this won’t do.”

“But how?” Juyeon asked.

“You’ve never heard of butt plugs?” Hyunjin asked as he began stroking Juyeon over his underwear.

“Of course I have,” Juyeon huffed.

“Stop thinking about how I’ll take this impressive cock of yours and relax. Let me show you that you’re a 10, yeah?” Hyunjin told him.

“Okay,” Juyeon agreed.

“Close your eyes,” Hyunjin instructed. Juyeon did as he was told. “Now focus on what you feel, my hands, my mouth, my ass. Don’t think.”

“Okay,” he agreed again. Hyunjin shimmied out of his sweatpants and sat his bare ass on Juyeon’s thighs. Juyeon opened his mouth to say something and Hyunjin shushed him.

“I remember the first time you came over with that flimsy excuse of checking up on me. I knew what you really wanted. What you didn’t know is that I wanted you just as much. Of course, I had no idea how to approach you. How do you say I want you so fucking bad my cock is raw from jacking off to fantasies about you and not come across desperate? You know how I feel about looking desperate,” Hyunjin pressed his lips against Juyeon’s ear. He pulled Juyeon’s jeans and underwear down. Juyeon’s cock was starting to show interest.

“Now I don’t care so much. I don’t care about looking desperate or needy when I’ve got you all to myself. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t enjoyed what I’ve had to do to prep myself to take you. Though most of it is knowing that you’ll be just as helpless with me on your cock. You’ve thought about that, right? What it would be like to have me on that massive dick of yours? Nod if I’m right,” Juyeon nodded as Hyunjin flicked the buttons of his shirt open. “I thought so.”

Hyunjin finished opening Juyeon’s shirt and ran his hands up Juyeon’s chest. The other man arched up into Hyunjin’s touch. He flicked Juyeon’s nipples with his thumbs. Juyeon whined.

“Don’t get to play with these much,” Hyunjin flicked them again.

“Jinnie,” Juyeon whined.

“So good for me Juyeonnie. I think it’s time I finally sat on that fat cock,” Hyunjin kissed his cheek and removed a plug from his ass. He continued teasing one of Juyeon’s nipples as he speared himself on the biggest cock he’d ever taken in his life. “Open your eyes.”

Juyeon opened his eyes and blinked a few times. Hyunjin leaned over and turned on the overhead light.

“Look down,” he said. Juyeon looked down and behind Hyunjin’s prominent erection was a bulge in Hyunjin’s lower belly. Hyunjin took Juyeon’s hand and pressed down so he could feel it. “That’s your cock that’s about to rearrange my insides. Only you have that.”

“Only me,” Juyeon repeated, still marveling at the feeling of his cock in Hyunjin’s body. “Not as tight as I thought.”

“I hope that’s not disappointing,” Hyunjin replied.

“No, no, I just wasn’t sure,” Juyeon shook his head.

“Wasn’t sure I was ready? Darling, we’ve been together for the better part of 3 years, I think I can estimate the size of my boyfriend’s dick pretty well,” Hyunjin kissed him.

“I love you,” Juyeon kissed him back.

“I love you more, babe. Now let me show you how I ride a cock,” Hyunjin grinned. He put Juyeon’s hands around his waist and began riding him hard. Juyeon watched as Hyunjin’s belly moved with his cock inside of him. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it happen with a partner, but there was something about it being Hyunjin with his lithe frame and the sounds he was making as he moved that got Juyeon hotter than he’d ever been before.

“I dunno how long…” Juyeon gasped.

“I know. I was counting on it,” Hyunjin nipped at his earlobe. “And once you’re done I’m gonna plug myself back up full of your come.”

“Oh god,” Juyeon choked on his own spit.

“Thought you’d like that,” Hyunjin leaned back and rested his weight on the dashboard. Juyeon got a full view of Hyunjin’s cock slapping against his abdomen as he pushed them both closer to release. The sight made Juyeon’s balls tighten the first time.

“Don’t fight it,” Hyunjin told him.

“Okay,” Juyeon panted, his hands in a vice grip around Hyunjin’s waist. It would probably bruise, but Hyunjin wouldn’t care. Hyunjin suddenly tightened around him and Juyeon released into him. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut as his cock pumped inside Hyunjin. The blonde leaned forward and kissed him hard as he began to come all over Juyeon’s stomach. When they both finished, Hyunjin placed a gentle kiss on Juyeon’s forehead and rested against his chest, damn getting come all over his shirt.

“Thank you,” Juyeon kissed his hair.

“Of course. And the next time someone makes you feel bad about yourself, let me know so I can rip their throat out,” Hyunjin replied.

“Sure,” Juyeon huffed a laugh.

#just fucking write 2k24 #minors dni #the boyz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #crossover ships #Juyeon x Hyunjin #stray kids smut #the boyz smut

[verysmolnerd]

Doc ock visiting a doctor

He hasn’t been to one in years. For good reason too. Last time he was there, a team of doctors that joked about his dismay attempted to cut off his metal appendages.

It took some convincing on everyone’s part: Norman, Harry, and even Peter. He needed to go, not for just a checkup, but an analysis on his spine and skin.

They offered to come with him, they had done their dues and gone to one on their own times. They’re distrusting of regular doctors too, some of them are unsure or too confident. They’re either afraid of the process or too confident to use it at all.

However, his newfound family has reassured him that there’s now a doctor that specialized into scientific accidents. How such a thing came to be, he’s not so sure. But the world is ever changing, he supposed.

According to Norman, the doctor assigned to him is also his own. A trusted professional that spent years of study, even being the Osborn’s personal doctor before the messes started to happen.

So, now he sits in a waiting room. He wasn’t one to be nervous, but his foot is tapping and the actuators are worming around the small room. Granted, this office is tucked away, it’s a smaller floor in Oscorp’s one of many buildings.

There wasn’t anyone else in the room, but he can’t help but feeling that the empty space in the room is judging him. Mocking his every move, warning him that he could be trapped just like he was before.

The door separating the lobby from the office opens. “Otto Octavius?” His head goes up to the name, like a deer in headlights he looks at he doctor.

You’re calm, patient with him. So he’s a bit nervous when walking over to you, however, the only way to know is how his actuators are acting.

You do the general checkup on him: height, weight, etc. without really saying a word, it was obvious that the former doctor was nervous, you’d rather not spook him. So you moved slowly.

The X-Ray was also calm. He fully expected to see your expression worsen when you saw how warped his spine is. It was a little funny, his nasal laugh brought you out of your panic.

That’s when he started to talk to you, “I know my weight isn’t flattering, but I swear to you, it’s all adamatium.” You shake your head, the traces of a smile show on your face, “Well, you’d be perfectly healthy for your age. Save for your metalic friends over here.”

Otto nodded, it’s to be expected, Rosie really cleaned him up after college. He started to develop healthy habits for the longest time and still do them in her absence.

However, you know you frightened him when you said, “I can get those off you. If you’d like.” He went stiff, which was what you expected.. but the why is the matter to you.

You had to wrack your brain for a moment, but you made sure to wait for his answer while you tried to find then source of the issue.

You vaguely remember seeing a hospital being designed by a patient, along with the public announcement of a bunch of doctors found dead. You can only assume that they took this situation unprofessionally… it’s disappointing seeing how many doctors on their high horses.

“Do you have a process?” Otto asked, his expression unreadable. The actuators fully trained on you. “I’m glad you asked,” you clasp your hands, “Vibrainium magnetized saw. It’s quick and painless I can either remove each tentacle at their bases, so the waistband remains.”

You take a deep breath before introducing the alternative “Or I can remove the needles in your back with open surgery on your back, which is a little more complicated, so you would be sedated for a few hours.”

Otto was speechless, blinking rapidly. Which made you reassure him, “We’re going at your own pace here, don’t worry about making a decision. Just know that you are in good hands.”

“No,” he glances at his failed project, “I want to.” You smile, “What way would you like them removed?”

..

When Otto returned to the lobby, Norman was there, sitting cross-legged on a sofa. “How was it?”

“Hopeful.” He says, his thumb resting on the card detailing his next visit.

#otto x reader #otto octavius x reader #doc ock #doc ock x reader #doctor octopus x reader #doctor octopus #fanfic #fanfiction #drabbles

[egophiliac]

just thinking about hair and faces

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #i don't THINK this counts as face horror but just in case #face horror #for your daily dose of me losing my mind over anime characters #i don't know why the hair thing surprised me so much. i think because i thought it was funny that lilia named silver after his hair color. #like ha ha lilia is hilariously bad at names how cute and silly! #oh. oh it's kind of a Thing. #anyway i am excited to see where the heck all of this stuff with silver's various dads ends up! #we still don't actually know who killed meleanor! #we still don't know literally anything about dad draconia! (dadconia? dradconia?) #we don't know what happened to the macguffin gem with its magical dad-saving powers! #(surely this will not come back to save a certain dad at a later point. of course not.) #man i was not expecting episode 7 to be all dads all the time #i mean i'm here for it but #hey remember when the highest stakes were who was gonna win the big talent show #then robots started kidnapping people and now we've just escalated from there #episode 8 our cat is going to turn into a drippy ink kaiju and we're going to have to mecha battle him to save the world or something #each member of diasomnia pilots a limb and we gattai into a giant robot dragon and hold on i gotta submit this spec script to aniplex brb

[todayisafridaynight]

time a flat circle why the hell am i usin the same loafers i bought for one cosplay of my fave antagonist for another fave antagonist

#snap chats #can i even call it cosplay. why are police sirens going off in the bg oh my god shut UP #anyway yeah ill elaborate. Super Snap Stalkers will remember my p4 era and will remember the time i did in fact do an adachi cosplay #i deleted the og post like an hour later. plus that blog's gone. but im sure some freak can find it if they dig hard enough #ew i think i was 17/18 in that pic (not at all that long ago) ok anyway. #i use the same loafers for my aoki outfit. and yeah i do Regularly wear my rgg outfits i TOLD YOU its functional cosplay i QUIT #just funny that like.... damn everything always goes back to square one LOL #these busted ass old ass loafers still rockin with me years later #if im feeling cheeky i think i will post all my rgg outfits actually. for halloween #hang on gotta be depressed and cringe for a moment #cause ive always liked cosplay but whenever i did it it never felt. Good Looking #like i always just felt like my face never worked for the charas i wanted to portray and so thats why i say with a heavy heart #that aoki's round-ass square-ass head is perfect LOL it makes me wanna throw up looking in the mirror #i got the same weird lips. ok not that squished Similar but Its Awful that he makes me feel comfortable with my face now #at least my eyebags arent double deckered... i at least look like i get sleep.. some days. #breaking !!!! objectively one of the most vile bitches in this franchise makes you feel comfortable with your body and existence #NAW to continue from last post if i had a webcam i prob coulda done a cosplay y7 stream LOL thatd be funny #anyway since this tag ramble is just pure cringe let me round it off with a final bit of cringe #the Forbidden Mention of my trans masato hc cause one reason why i have a Teehee over the thought is how raspy his voice is #and i only really now realized how right i was tonight because my prof called on me to speak and when i tried speaking DAWG. #the forbidden acknowledgement of Myself GROSS #BUT DAWG MY THROAT WAS FUCKIN CRUSTY it felt like sandpaper EW?? WATER FOR YOU?? christ. i hope that was just a one-time thing #ok im leaving now BYE

[mymarifae]

this interaction is killing me. thank you len for bringing up bad memories and making toya sad for no fucking reason like literally this was so unprompted. we love an insensitive 12 year old

#SBFKJDFJSKFKDJFKJKDHFKJSKFDJGKDJGKDJGKFBGLEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #oh yeah! i remember that one! :D #though it does kinda play into the idea i've had that like. SEKAI is built on emotions so sometimes like #the virtual singers will reflect the bad ones too. it's more likely to come from miku rin and len since they're all the youngest but like #going into your SEKAI while you feel like shit Can be counterproductive. most of the time you'll receive comfort but sometimes . #the virtual singers will (unintentionally) play off of your bad feelings and digging deeper into the wounds instead of soothing them #like len reminding toya of the time he and akito almost fell out of each other's lives and he almost went back to classical music #for NO REASON #or like. a hypothetical scenario for you: #mizuki: *in the empty sekai talking about their plans to organize a hangout with the rest of n25* #rin: why are you bothering when you're so sure they'll hate you someday. wouldn't it be less painful to cut all your ties now. #mizuki: H #and in my akitoya fic that's what miku did with akito for like 2 seconds #LIKE IT'S NOT A MALICIOUS THING they're just kind of echoing the emotions and thoughts they sense from the kids #because they Know it needs to be addressed but they don't know how to do it like. delicately. #it's why in most of the SEKAIs one of the Older virtual singers is present #as funny as miku therapy is she's still 16. she doesn't know what the hell she's doing. #left to their own devices she and rin and len would make everything 18385948595845958x worse 👍🏾

[possiblytracker]

valentines day became a lot more fun and less agonising to me as an ace-aro person after it finally clicked over the past few years that whatever the fuck happens today is what i make of it, and that can and does include loving and appreciating the shit out of the friends ive decided i'd like to spend my life with in a way that i can define on my own terms not limited to the generic concept of romance. which i absolutely revel in doing, personally

#first and last post im gonna make about it BUT #kinda wild as a kid who got picked on on vday and got Insanely bitter abt the whole holiday for most of my teenage years #and coped by being 'totally fine with' the idea of living and dying alone bc who could Possibly want to get that close on my terms #that im here now and actually vibing with it #and like. if you hate vday personally i am giving you a pat on the back in solidarity. me too still for the most part #i am not going to be annoying about it for your sakes i respect you so much. best of luck avoiding Designated Love Day #but i am personally reclaiming this shit as a semi-recently discovered Bitch Who Yearns. #what a nice day to consider love in all its incredible forms! how great to remember i love and am loved in return #despite the years and years of thinking it just wasnt something that even loosely applied to me #funny how that works out sometimes. that im still learning things about myself #(some of this is slightly exaggerated ofc i have and have had friends who mean a Lot to me throughout! when i say 'alone' i dont mean Alone #(but it is still only recently ive started to unpack the 'i dont Need to bond that closely with people im Fine to live on my own' kinda #shit that i internalised for a stupid long time as a teenager #maybe i Do want to spend my life with other people in my own queerplatonic way and not only are there people who want that with me #but also make me want it with Them. and thats more than i could ever have imagined as a teenager) #ok tags ramble over im done getting sentimental khgCSDJ

[rosicheeks]

oh yes you were at court! i forgot that was at the start of that post lmao. i've been to court twice when i was super young for drinking underage and then smoking lool it was so boring and long and shit but thankfully you were just there for moral support, i hope it wasen't such a bad thing your friend had to deal with! I remember seeing you post about moving but i forget if it was TO or AWAY from your parents but that clears it up. I totally get you on that though, i'm living at home right now and i feel kind of similar about not feeling comfortable in your own home. Its a bit different for me, but similar enough. Hell my stepdad even sleeps in the living room too! hes always done that so ive always felt like i had to be on eggshells when night time hit. I used to sneak smoking in the backyard back in the day myself, i got caught once when i was in highschool he made me throw all my pieces out which sucked big time. ahhh i love that, art! you should totally show more stuff on here too, at least if you're comfortable and its not stuff you'd wanna sell, i would absolutely love to see any of it 🖤i've dabbled in writing poems and things i planned to make songs, although only recently. I've always wanted to be a musician but my attempts at learning guitar over the years have never ended up lasting long and i try to learn singing but i just dont really think i can. plus i was always afraid of self expression so i never wrote until a few years ago. i still do, because music is so important to me (which is why i did pick 🎤!) and it makes me so happy but yeah. i have 2 shows im headed to in a few months even so im so excited 🥰my day though has been so boring, i mostly played video games and watched youtube videos. watched another episode of a show i've been watching called Silo, which i absolutely love. im so surprised you had room in your tags still after myself lmao, but i do that same thing i always talk in the tags! also i'm giving you tons of hugs and kisses 😘🥰 - 🎤

Hi hi hi ☺️ how are you doing lovely? 🥰

#I’ve actually never even been inside a court house or room (still haven’t since my friend didn’t even see a judge thankfully) #but it was interesting ngl walking in especially felt like I was at an airport lol #sorry to hear you had to deal with it twice :( I hope it all ended up ok! #also sorry that you understand the pain of not being comfy in your own home #it really really fucking sucks ngl #dude I would have been SO pissed if my parents made me throw out my pieces 😭😭😭 like 1 that’s my babies and 2 that’s fucking money!!! #lol I was caught in high school too once or twice (but I was a dumbass and smoked inside LMAO still can’t believe I did that????) #I still remember my mom walking in while I was spraying the room and I just fucking fell to the floor for some reason 😂😂 #my moms friend was over and apparently told my mom ‘I’m getting high from the fumes’ and ughhhhhh I was so mad #it’s funny now cause wtf who says fumes???? #show art like more of my Etsy paintings or my personal paintings?? honestly I don’t have thaaaat many personal paintings #I have one that is a tree that is probably my favorite and I have a few pour paints that I saved when I was first starting #if you’re ever comfortable and want to share a poem or two please feel free to send me them!! (lmk if you don’t want me to post it) #I’ve always been in awe of people who can write poetry or lyrics #I’ve wanted to write songs ever since I can remember tbh and I did back in high school #I had a few classes that I actually wrote songs in but it was just the instrumental - I could never figure out the lyrics #almost failed a class cause I couldn’t figure out the damn lyrics lol #trust me I totallyyyyy understand wanting to learn an instrument but it not *clicking* buuut I personally think singing is different #don’t get me on a rant about how I think it’s sad how most people don’t sing or do art because they aren’t ‘good’ at it #also singing is sooooooooo subjective (think that’s the right word lol) so I think anyone can sing if they want to #music is important to me too!! what type of music do you like to listen to?? like do you have a fav genre or even a fav artist/band rn? #2 shows??! like concert???? who are you going to see?! fuck I’m so jealous! I don’t even remember the last concert I’ve been to ☹️ #I’ve never heard of silo but maybe I should check it out! I’ve been looking for a new show to watch ☺️ #sorry it took me a lil bit to reply to this :( #my depression was hitting me HARD the past few days #I’m feeling a lil better now but still kinda funky #I’m dogsitting Wednesday-Sunday and I’m super duper excited for that!!! just gotta get to Wednesday ☺️ #thank you for the hugs and kisses 🥺🥺🥺 they’re super appreciated 🤗 #you’re amazing 🥺 I’m squeezing you and giving you the bigggggggggggest hug 🤗🤗🤗 #🎤 anon

[orcelito]

angst digging turned into genuine enjoyment of seeing the kind of kid i was back then. hyperactive, dramatic, funny... and also so achingly sad. there’s a special kind of melancholy that comes from seeing a kid being very goofy then in the next breath genuinely fantasizing about being struck by lightning. it makes my heart ache for the lost joy of the time. 

#speculation nation #i can be a little hyperactive sometimes still. jokingly dramatic. and maybe even a bit funny #but from my posts back then it seemed like i was bouncing off the walls 24/7 #but it's so heart wrenching to see this 18 year old being completely jovial #then turning around and making deep posts about how awful i felt about my life #things still arent perfect. but i wish i could just #reach through time. cup the face of littler me. and tell them It Will Be Okay #it all feels so horrible and dramatic when youre in the midst of it all #far too young to be dealing with any of it. multitasking worrying about a spanish test & trying not to kill yourself #i was so convinced that i was a bad person. *they* convinced me i was a bad person. #but i was just a struggling teen. i wish i had even a fraction of the compassion i now feel for myself back then #sometimes i can still be a little hard on myself. but then i remember how things were #and as obnoxious as i ultimately was. i love that little twerp. #this began as an angst dive but has devolved into me really realizing how much i love myself #it's easier to feel love for the past me. for the me so young. but they're still with me in the end #im a different person. but not That different. #i'll keep going. make a life for us that little me could be proud of. #suicide ment/

[wakanai]

xx

[tw: ed; fat shaming]

#feeling awful rn #Lmao #“Just do it. Stop being unhealthy. You're so fat” #hahaha lmao yeah you've been reminding me that for like 5 years now #You think it helps?? #My gosh. #“I'm saying this because I care for you. I don't want you to look ugly” #It's been 5 years. I wonder how that's working out lol #If i do get healthier its not because of you its because of me #because frankly your strategy is not at all helping #Like yeah constantly fat shame and criticize someone and call them ugly #and then get shocked when they believe it and get worse #I looked at my old photos #I wasn't even fat back then but I remember they alr called me out on gaining weight #And now here I am. And they're still calling me out on gaining weight. And it's gotten worse #I'm not obese im chubby but like yeah thats not an excuse and i self sabatoge and use eating as a coping mechanism #and i ate sm today #It's funny cause one time i was actually trying and making progress #Then they called me fat again and teased me abt it and my motivation just came cashing down #I hate it sm #ofc ill still continue trying to get better because yk gotta take care of myself and look pretty for myself #but these people are just... #i cant deal w this #one of my fam members came up on me just now and said im becoming obese #ty very much #your fucking criticisms have def helped me reach this point #“i care for you. I won't shut up about it until you lose weight” #can u just. like. get off my back. #when they're trying to motivate me but their so called motivations include teasing me and berating me and asking me why im fat 24/7 #ty for your “motivation”

[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[augustinewrites]

satoru absolutely does not know how to ride a bike idk how i know this but i know cw: suggestive content, mdni

“that was…good,” satoru settles on, still unable to properly articulate. he whines, still a little lightheaded and breathless as you roll off of him with a laugh, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before tucking yourself into his side.

“just good?” you tease, fingertips gliding over his chest. “if i’d known there was going to be a review, i’d have done that thing with my hips that you like.”

you roll your hips against his thigh, sending a warm chill down satoru’s spine. 

“don’t do that,” he warns, but his face is flushed and he can feel himself getting hard again. “unless you want to leave the kids at your dad’s for another night.”

“oh! speaking of the kids!” your sweet movements stop abruptly, causing him to peek one eye open to send you a long suffering look. “my father bought the kids bikes yesterday, and i told him you’d teach them how to ride them.”

now, it’s no secret that gojo satoru is good at a lot of things. 

he can manipulate the infinity around him and exorcise special grade curses with the flick of his wrist. he knows the words to every avicii song and can make mug cakes that don’t always explode in the microwave. 

there’s only one thing he can’t do. 

“i remember when my dad taught me,” you sigh. there’s a fondness in your eyes as you describe the memory. it’s something special and cherished, and satoru wants that for his kids. 

_____

“this isn’t funny, shoko!” 

“you’re right.”

“thank you—”

“because it’s hilarious. gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer of our time, never learned how to ride a bicycle.” 

she trails off in a fit of laughter. satoru hasn’t heard her laugh like this in a long time, and he’d be ecstatic if her amusement hadn’t come at his expense. 

“i didn’t have anyone willing to teach me!” he tells her, huffing. “it was all cursed technique this and cursed technique that. not to mention bikes are literal death traps on wheels.”

“motorcycles are death traps on wheels. bicycles are for babies,” she corrects, though he can still hear the laughter bubbling in her response. “why’d you even agree to teach them?”

“because she did this super hot thing with her hips, but focus!” he whispers harshly. “i can’t teach the kids how to ride a bike! what if i just bought a car—”

“only you would try to buy a car for an 11 year old.”

“not for megumi. tsumiki’s basically 13. she can start learning so when she’s old enough—”

“so tsumiki is going to learn how to drive before you learn how to ride a bike? you are so tragic,” she snickers. 

well, it sounds lame when she puts it like that.

he looks up when the sound of the shower running stops. “and you’re useless,” he growls into the phone. “i’ll ask nanami.” 

_____

NOT GOJO 

[shoko]: i heard gojo’s teaching the kids how to ride their bikes

[you]: yeah :) i’m so excited!

[shoko]: me too.

[shoko]: can you send videos?

[nanami]: I would also like to see videos. 

[you]: sure. but why the interest?

[shoko]: bcs i care about them and want to celebrate their achievements

[you]: you didn’t come to megumi’s violin recital because you said you valued your eardrums. 

[nanami]: It will be a fun moment to look back on when they’re older. 

[shoko] yeah that ^

[you]: fine i’ll send videos.

______

the sun is just beginning to set and the city beginning to settle when you take the kids to the park. 

“i really think—”

“satoru, we are not teaching megumi how to teleport to school.”

“but if he uses the shadows—”

you thrust a helmet into his hands, stern look shutting him up immediately. 

“fuck,” he mumbles once your back is turned to help the kids. he shoves the helmet onto his head and buckles it tightly.

the kids walk over to him with their little bikes, the huge helmets on their head making them look like bobble heads. 

you document his torture with a quick photo before giving him the floor. 

“riding a bike is…super simple,” he tells them, patting the seat of your bike. “you get on, put your feet on the pedals, and…pedal.”

the kids only stare at him, confused looks on their cute faces. 

“maybe you should just show them,” you suggest. 

“why don’t you show them?” he quickly deflects. please please please—

“no! i’m taking the video!” 

fuck.

satoru grips the handles of the bike tightly. he’s faced the worst of the worst, died and come back to life. he could ride a stupid bike.

he kicks at the stand your bike is leaning on, getting it up on the fourth kick. he swings his right leg over so he’s straddling the seat, his feet planted firmly on the ground.

it can’t be that hard, can it?

“watch and learn, kids.”

he takes a breath, then pushes off and places his feet on the pedals.

the bike rolls forward slowly. it’s wobbly at best, but he’s doing it. he’s doing it! he picks up a little momentum, heading off into the sunset—

“satoru! don’t lead them downhill!”

sure enough, the path in front of him leads down a slight decline. he squeezes the brakes and jerks to the side, sending him toppling over the bike and into the grass.

as he lays in the grass, dazed, megumi and tsumiki bike right past him. he’s sure the former even rolls his eyes.

“they have training wheels,” he says when you run over to check on him. “they’re cheating—”

“do you not know how to ride a bike?!”

“i never learned,” he grumbles, cheeks blushing at the admission. 

“oh, honey,” you sigh, brushing some grass from his shirt. “why didn’t you just tell me?”

you kiss his brow, unable to hold back your laughter as he pouts. “you were so excited about me teaching them. didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“you could never disappoint us,” you tell him firmly. “now come on, i’ll teach all three of you.”

so you teach him, holding onto the back of his bike until he’s steady, until he’s confident enough to do it on his own. 

he’ll get the hang of it eventually.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

[todayisafridaynight]

Morning! I'm here to harass you. 🤭

Hangover status?

And how vivid is the memory of stream? 🤣

GOOD MORNING STARS you could never harass me 😤

and LIKE I SAID DURING STREAM i never get hangovers !!!!!!! ive also been awake since like. 4AM so even if i did get one i'd prob be fine by now LOL

and trust. i remember. Everything from stream.

#snap chats #IVE ALSO BEEN DYING LOOKING AT THE FUCKIN BJ CHAT (OUT OF CONTEXT STATEMENT) #WDYM YOU LOT ARE MAING A COPMILATIONLJLERVEJLKVEJ im thoroughly obsessed witht he art too.. i have saved all of it </3 #im thinking back on stream and thinking of how many more times i cuodlve roasted kayla tbh 😔 #DEELGATING KAYLA TO KUME IS WILD THO i was thinkin ichi the whole time. tbh. aoki bullies ichi during streams real #also have a dumb doodle idea from it... lol... but ill do that durin drawing stream uhhhhh tuesday? #kayla and i were talking about it beforehand. or WHEN te fuck ever but yeah moving on #its how i remembered i needed to clean my suit a bit cause there was still sake stains on it FUCK #its fine now. trust. i take care of my suits like theyre my children <- dont spill alcohol on your children ????? #but yeah no im telling you alcohol is so weird to me becase i never forget anything and im Cognizant and always aware of what im doing #but yk. i do be a lil loopy 🥴 a 15 on the scale even 🥴 free rights to be stupid while only feeling KINDA bad about it #so funny how we were talking bout when id wear the masato outfit and i was like 'oh god prob not Ever if its with kayla' #and now we're doing it. part two. tonight LOL #you guys wanna see my shitty attempt at beard make up cause Highly Considering It

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his  wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t know. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #I ❤️ MILFS verse #I was on something when I came up with this idea and the name of this fic