#Me after writing: ...... and then it was all a bad dream the end :)
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Rejection Is Just Redirection
Luke Hughes x reader
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Listen, you didn’t really need college. You broke into the entertainment industry at 16, so college was just a plan b you put on the back burner. Being one of the most famous names and faces in the entire world, you easily had enough money to afford college, so why not give it a shot? After all, your boyfriend went to college, though he did kind of drop out to play hockey.
Once you made up your mind that you’d be going back to school, your next step what choosing your major and what schools to apply to. You write songs and sometimes write poems and books, so maybe English or journalism? Maybe Communications would help you answer some of the dodgy questions the paparazzi ask you. Heck, even political science or economics or business would be a good idea. They would allow you to make a difference in the world. Business sounds like a safe choice. You could do a lot with a business degree. Now to apply to schools.
So here’s the thing, you’re finally in a real relationship that you really don’t want to mess up. Staying in LA would allow you to go to school and continue working, so you could still be in the limelight when you want to be. USC and UCLA would be great choices for that and they’re extremely accredited schools. However, maybe Rutgers is the school you should choose, since it’s close to Luke. NYU might even be an interesting choice since it wouldn’t raise too many questions if you’re going to school in the city because you want to or if it’s because you want to be closer to your boyfriend. It has always been your dream school when you were a kid. Well, it’s decided then!
You honestly weren’t expecting the application and admissions process to be so complicated and grueling. It’s like the education system is trying to torture kids to see who would come out on top as the victor. College really is like the Hunger Games, isn’t it? You hadn’t the slightest idea of how to fill out your major requirement classes or send your high school transcript to the admissions office and your essays were mid at best. You’re a celebrity, it’s not like you needed to try all that hard to graduate high school since you did homeschooling since you were 16. Though, you gotta admit that the feeling of finally being done with the application process was a relief. It’s just a waiting game now for admissions decisions.
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“T-minus 2 hours until decisions come out. You nervous?” Luke asked as you guys were laying on the couch before he had to go to practice.
“A little, but it’s not the end of the world if I don’t get in. I mean, i’ve already got my career, so why would I worry about getting in so that I could work more to get a degree that would allow me to work even more? Why did i do this again?” you questioned back, joking with him. “If I don’t get in, I’ll just grab my bag and go back to LA and star in the highest grossing movie of the decade… again”
Luke laughed at your comment, despite hearing the quiet hesitation in your voice. He didn’t realize how much you actually wanted to get in. He didn’t know how much you wanted to prove that you’re more than just some face in gossip magazines or the most talked about name in the headlines. You wanted to be seen and treated like a person, someone who people respected because you worked just as hard as they did to get to the same place as them. You always advocated for equality for everyone and yet people always worshipped you and put you on a pedestal.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” he countered.
“I’m not sure yet. Part of me regrets applying, because I don’t want to get in for nepotism or for being famous, but I also want to get in, because I want to make everyone proud of me.” You replied.
It broke Luke’s heart a little to hear you talk about this in the way you are, because how could anyone not be proud of you and what you accomplished at such a young age? You had 6 Oscars, 4 Emmys, the most nominations at the Grammy’s this year, and you were named the most powerful person of the year by Time Magazine, Forbes Magazine, AND Vogue. You were a sensation that was still only just beginning. You had the entire world eating in the lam of your hand.
“Well, no matter what happens, I’m proud of you for trying. You don’t need college, but I applaud your efforts anyway. You could honestly be anything you want, be anyone you want, all you have to do is try and not everyone can do that.” He said, and his heart absolutely MELTED at the tiny smile you tried to hide by hiding your face further in his chest.
He heard you mumble the most adorable, embarrassed “Thanks” from his chest and he couldn’t help but giggle.
“Let’s not think about it for a while, please?” you asked, politely.
“Ok. We can just rewatch the movie where you play a real life version of one of the most famous dolls in the world.” He says, purposefully teasing you!!
“Oh God.” You laughed out.
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You held your breath as you opened the email concealing your admissions decisions. It felt as if the world was telling everyone to be quiet and listen.
“I got it.” You whispered as quietly as possible.
“You got in?!” Luke shouted, jumping nearly 7 feet high as he got up to look at you.
“No. I got the email that says if I got in or not.” You answered.
“Oh. Sorry for freaking out.” He looks away, slightly embarrassed. You give him a small look and smile full of adoration before turning back to your phone.
“Here goes nothing.” You say as you click on the email. “What? I don’t get it? Oh! I have to log into the admissions portal in order to see the decision.”
You click on the portal login link and enter your login id username and password, fingers slightly trembling with anticipation. Hesitantly, you click on the link that states “An update has been made about your decision.”
Taking a deep breath, you read a letter that says:
“Dear Y/n, Thank you for applying to New York University. We are humbled by the overwhelming interest in attending NYU and the outstanding quality of the applications we received this year. After careful consideration and thorough examination, it is with regret we must inform you were are unable to offer you admission for the Fall 2024 semester.”
“I didn’t get in.” You confessed barely loud enough for a mouse to hear.
Instantly, Luke had his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, fiercely protective. You were so disappointed that you weren’t even crying, almost as if you were expecting to be rejected.
“Whatever. Fuck them anyway. They didn’t deserve you to begin with. You belong somewhere like UMich or in an Ivy League school. You’re too good for them.” He tries to reassure you. “Look at it this way, you can continue doing what you love most and stay here with me. In the end, you learned something.”
“And what’s that?” you questioned him.
“Rejection is just redirection, that’s all. College wasn’t in the cards for you and life thinks you’re better off in the spotlight, making more money in a single year than those lousy admissions officers make in their entire lives. You were meant to be somebody great. You ARE somebody great and you’re becoming somebody even more perfect than I ever thought possible.”
His words struck a chord in your heart so deeply that you couldn’t help but hold on to him for dear life. You felt your eyes begin to prick with tears. As the first one fell out of your right eye, you knew automatically that they were tears of joy. Your heart swelled with pride and love for Luke as you laughed into his chest.
“Yeah. Fuck them. I don’t need them. I’m a star! You’re all I need.” You teased back. Deep down, you were incredibly disappointed, but Luke’s words of affirmation and love meant more to you than the rejection letter did. Nothing could beat that.
“That’s right, baby.” He laughed as he tighten his grip over you. He gently kissed the top of your head and repeated quiet “I love you’s” for at least 10 minutes.
“What time is it?” You asked.
“It’s…5:30.” He responded gently leaning over to turn on his phone to check. “Oh Shit! I’m gonna be late!”
“Go! Go! Go!” You laughed at him.
God, this boy. You thought, shaking your head. That’s MY boy.
#mine#x male reader#x reader#x gn!reader#x gn reader#x gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader#hockey gender neutral#hockey x male reader#hockey x reader#nhl fic#nhl x male reader#nhl imagine#nhl players#nhl hockey#nhl#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x male reader#luke hughes#male readers exist too#x male reader imagine#male reader imagine#gender neutral y/n#male reader
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ya'll mind some bucky x different culture!reader hc's?
bucky would be so interested in learning about your culture and your language.
if you have an accent because of your native language, bucky would notice that and point it out with something like, "omg, i LOVE your accent, where's it from?"
if you don't have an accent because of your native language, bucky would be pleasantly surprised to know that english isn't your native language, when he does.
but he would defo be super interested in knowing your language.
cue silly questions by curious bucky:
"so you can speak more than one language?! wow, i could never!"
"so like when you think, right, do you think in english or in your native language? what about in your dreams? what language do you dream in?"
sometimes, while talking to him, after ya'll get comfortable around each other, you might end up accidentally saying something in your native language, forgetting that bucky doesn't speak your language. you repeat your sentence in your native tongue at him as he looks at you confused but more than that, amused.
"baby? i dont speak [your language]"
you laugh along with bucky before repeating what you said to him earlier, this time in english.
when you both get to know each other long enough, a small percentage of the words you use to talk to him will be in your native language. repeated usage will get him accustomed to those words.
this accustomisation will come in handy when u forget the english version of said words.
"bucky?" "yep" "hand me the...uh...," you snap your fingers trying to remember the english word but instead use the word in your language. "oh yeah here you go," he hands you the thing, beaming proudly, "see i remember the word"
sometimes, if you are talking to someone on the phone in your native tongue, bucky will silently point out the words he understands. when you hang up, he'll come up to you and tell you what he could piece together about your convo with the words that you used.
and when he'd get him right and when u tell him that he did, he would smile like a little kid, it's honestly so cute to see.
he defo seems like a fast learner.
ok, best part of teaching someone your language (as someone whose native language is not english): swear words!
bucky would ask you how to say bad words in your language. you would explain the words to him and hear him repeat the words in his accent.
u would giggle so hard hearing him say such rude words. he'd probably say those words around u randomly just to make u laugh.
he may or may not butcher the pronounciation (depends on how different your language sounds from english; he would defo butcher mine lol)
but also: "baby, how do u say 'i love you' in [your language]?"
once he learns the golden phrase, it's over for you.
he'll be saying it to you ALL. THE. TIME. like all the time.
but it's honestly so adorable.
like you'll be cooking something in the kitchen and he'll come up behind you, hands on your hips, lips grazing against the shell of your ear,
"i love you," he'd say in your language.
or a sensual whisper while you two are cozily tucked in bed as he caresses ur face gently. butterflies in tummy ~ 🦋🦋
it would be extra cute coming for him because he would forget the pronounciation for most of the words and phrases that you would teach him but this one... oh no, this one he's remembering till the day he dies, his words not mine.
writing! omg writing!
if u know how to write in your native language, you would propose to teach him how to write his name.
but he'd insist he wants to learn how to write your name first.
squeeeeeeeeeee!!
then you'd teach him how to write his name. he'll do something cute like taking the pen and adding a little plus sign between your names and a cute lil' heart around it, grinning like an idiot.
because he's an idiot but he's "your idiot" 🥺🥺
he would play love songs in your language to show u how much he loves you.
prolly will even sing in your language, (which would mostly be him mumbling and then singing the parts that he knows well out loud with confidence, even though his pronounciation makes what he's singing barely understandable)
he would give you nicknames in ur language <33 (not me imagining him calling me the love of his life in my language 🤭🤭)
also, him with the rest of your culture (because there is more to your culture than just your language)
like the spark to learn more and more about ur culture would be ever present in him, as it comes with getting to know you better, which he very much intends to do.
but i think seeing you in your cultural clothing (if ur culture has clothing different from his american culture) would enkindle the flame.
like you'd be going through some of your old stuff that u had stored and kept away and decide to wear your cultural clothing, just out of whimsy <3
(also because u'd want to see bucky's reaction to seeing u in your cultural clothing) 🤭🤭
"hey bucky?" "yeah?" "how do i look?"
he'd turn around to see you in the dress, eyes wide like saucers, mouth open in surprise.
"nooo wayyyy, oh my god, darlin' you look amazing."
you'd have him stuttering stumbling over his words as the only thought in his head is how gorgeous you look. how, how beautiful.
after that, it'd just be him and his hands all over you. kissing you. admiring you. closely observing how the dress looked on your body. how it looked as he took it off of you.
and food! i have a personal headcannon that bucky is REALLY into food. like we all know that the way to a man's heart goes through his stomach or however that saying goes.
and he would love to see you cook something for him from ur cultural cuisine.
like just standing in the kitchen, being like, "oh what is that? what are u adding in the thing?" like pointing at the ingredients, asking questions like a little schoolboy 🥺🥺
and festivals!! ooh festies! bucky loves a good party, we all know that!
u'd tell him about a festival of yours coming up and how you are invited to go to a party/celebration thing that one of your friends organised and that would get bucky so so curious.
like he'd sit u down and ask u to explain the cultural significance of the festival.
and u'd spend hours explaining to him your culture and answering his queries.
he just loves hearing about your culture. he'd love to be a part of it someday.
u'd take him to a wedding and show him just how weddings are done in your culture.
he'd probably be blushing the whole time, as if he's the one getting married.
he'd prolly wanna get married to you the way they do it in your culture.
no fr man would have a whole monologue prepared in your language for when he proposes to you.
like mr. egan will literally get down on one knee, hold ur hand and ask u to marry him in YOUR LANGUAGE. his pronounciation would be the best he's ever had - he would practice for MONTHS for this proposal.
when ya'll marry, u're gonna be married both in the american way and if ur culture's weddings are different than his, you'd have a wedding from your culture as well.
kids! your kids would have both names from ur culture and english names as well!
this was mostly a self-indulgent post but hey! at least im writing something! yay! thank u @sagesolsticewrites and @agir1ukn0w for the encouragement u gave me to write this lil' thing <33
feel free to rb and add on to this thing lmao <3
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I’ve got this bad feeling that SJM is going to announce the next book as an “Azriel book” only, not giving any other info. It would be the ultimate marketing move, since it hype both the sides of the fandom.
I know that for you the next one will be the Elucien book ( AND IT IS the most rational choice because all the major plot lines are connected to them and their journey), but I fear that it will be Gwynriel.
It’s just that in the last years we had his pov and he featured in Hofas, so I feel that Sarah is setting him as the new main character.
The problem with this is that I can’t really see what his book will be about in terms of development of the story, since his only personal connection with a place in the story is the Illyria. So we could have to read 800 pages of an healing journey with some secondary events on the background that set the next book.
In the meantime, Elain will have a conversation with Az where they understand that between them there can’t be anything, maybe after a period of secret “forbidden” romance. We could also have some Elucien moments across the book.
Personally, I find it a very boring plot, but somehow that woman can make me read anything she writes despite I hate most of her characters ahah. But I fear that this is how she has planned to do.
And if I’m right (hope not), the book will be announced as Azriel’s, and the whole fandom will be on fire.
And that’s it, I just wanted to share my fear with you, since you are the strongest pillar in the temple of “Elucien book next”, hoping you could reassure me that my fears won’t come true and I can sleep sweet dreams.
I love your resilience against E/riel harassers, stay strong!!!💪🏼
I think the biggest discord in the fandom would come from SJM / Bloomsbury announcing that it's Elain's book next without confirming the love interest. If they announce Az being next then I think that would be a big indicator that Gwyn is his sharing in his POV because E/riels, Elucien's, and Gwynriels tend to agree that the debate is between Elain getting the next book (with an Az POV), Elain getting the next book (with a Lucien POV) or Az getting the next book (with Gwyn POV). Most arguments do not claim Az will get the next book with an Elain POV. Though I'm sure there will be those who argue regardless, we've still got people claiming Bryce and Hunt won't end up together.
As far as who is next, I think all opinions are valid because they're based in some sort of logic. SJM definitely gave Az more attention since SF as well as a POV bonus and that's a good reason to think he's next. But.....it doesn't really guarantee it. Eris got a lot of attention in SF too yet he's probably not getting a book anytime soon and Nesta received more attention than even Az in HOFAS and she already had a book. She's connected to both Az and Gwyn so there's a chance that still suggests a Gwynriel book next however she's Elain's sister and the reasons Nesta was built up in HOFAS, her possible connection to the Starborn fae, is something that could indicate Elain and Lucien. Nesta is an Archeron and a Made fae by the Cauldron. Elain is an Archeron and a Made fae by the Cauldron. If Nesta has the Starborn tattoo then it's logical to consider that Elain could share one as well. And we know Lucien, through Helion, probably has a connection to the Trove.
Though Az got a bonus chapter, Lucien had a POV back in ACOWAR. Though Az was built up in SF / HOFAS, Elain and Lucien were built up in ACOWAR / ACOFAS. Some will claim that because Az had recent buildup it means he's next but when we look at the below from an interview SJM did, recent buildup doesn't actually mean anything:
Yrene towers was in a TOG novella, set before the events of the TOG series but she played no part in books 1 - 5. Chaol was in books 1 - 4 but was completely absent in book 5 (same with Nesryn). Yet they were all given main POVs in book 6.
Sarah spoke about how everyone thought she hated Chaol after a time because she suddenly took her focus off him but she went on to say that "No! I always knew the story I wanted to tell for him but I just had to wait until it was time!" That is something that could easily be applied to Elain and Lucien's characters right now. So many have said she's forgotten about them, she got bored with them, she's more excited for Az's story. But what if, just like Chaol and Yrene, she's been biding her time, setting them to the side until it was time to pull them off the shelf? Sure, that could mean they'll come after Gwynriel but it also doesn't exclude them from being next just because Az played a larger role in Nesta and Cassian's story.
As far as plot, I do think Elucien makes the most sense. SF and HOFAS dropped hints as to what Az's book might be about but those things are not actually plot issues at the moment. The Illyrians are not a bigger threat than Koschei. The threat of new villains entering their world from outerspace is now in their peripheral vision but not something that's actually presented itself as a problem. But Koschei stealing Vassa back is a concern. The NC needing Springs army is a concern. Beron is a real concern. Koschei and possibly the remaining queens are a concern.
Unless the Valkyrie and the Illyrians are going to tie into Elain and Lucien's book, I am still unclear on how they'll set up Elucien's story. Unless Koschei is going to be tied into time travel, I'm not sure why a time travel plot in the next book would make sense.
And you summed it up perfectly with how you mentioned that once again, another ACOTAR book would feature two characters healing journey's, their individual plots but with "secondary events in the background that set the next book." Elucien's plotlines are already well established, from ACOWAR through SF and they were not resolved in Nesta's book, they played the backdrop to Nesta's main story. Having those same plots play in the background again with no resolution seems extremely drawn out.
To me it would make the most sense for Elucien to restore Spring, bring the life back to the land where it's dying, defeat Koschei, stop Beron and secure peace through the treaty. At that point the IC can turn their focus to the Illyrians, continuing the formation of the Valkyrie and protecting their entire world from threats from outside it.
But.....these are SJMs books and only she knows what her grand vision is for the series so I could be way off base!
Edit: forgot to add thank you! ❤️. I hope you start having sweet dreams again soon!
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Nice night 🌘
#fuyuhiko kuzuryu#hajime hinata#kazuichi souda#akane owari#sonia nevermind#sdr2#super danganronpa 2#danganronpa 2#danganronpa#an art#Me drawing this at 8 in the morning:#I was drawing this after working on the fic a bit. I'm struggling....but trying.... !!!!!!!#Please for the love of God don't focus on the hand size changing. You think u can keep track of that???#Edit: the final chapter is almost done. I drew this as a comfort before All That lol so. Enjoy#Me after writing: ...... and then it was all a bad dream the end :)#Vi if you see this. I'm waving. Tysm for your hard work
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EUTHANASIA DAZE
"You okay? You were tossing and turning all night."
"Yeah, just had a bad dream."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Well, there's not much to talk about. I was alone, with no way to get to you... slowly dying. It felt like I could watch over you from there."
#got some strong signalis vibes while writing this#i was kinda down after doing the corpo ending#especially that i was only going through different endings not that long ago - after ~150 hours of playing as my oc#let's be clear: all endings are devastating if you develop a strong connection with your V#my s/o suggested that treating it like her bad dream could help me cope#she was right and i got this idea#based partially on a dream I had myself#and the effect it had on me#it was very inspiring#dreams like these stay with you#oc: crystal hartley#otp: nothing's gonna hurt you baby#cyberpunk 2077#cyberpunk game#fem v#screen.qd
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I think the hardest thing in writing for me sometimes is the like “show don’t tell/let people communicate through subtext/Normal People don’t just walk around openly explaining their motivations for everything That’s Unnatural” thing because like.. I literally DO walk around openly explaining my motivations for everything, that is how I talk, I am an analytical detail oriented over-communicator who explains everything as thoroughly as possible and and will give a fully detailed 2 minute long answer to something simple like “how are you doing today?” .. like it’s hard to make things sound Natural and Normal when you yourself are inherently unnatural and abnormal in your methods of communication to an extent lol
#''hey. whats up? you look kind of sad.. is something wrong?'' normal answer (apparently how people are supposed to talk): *looks away#remosefully and stares into the distance* ''n-no.. I'm fine. don't worry about it.'' abnormal answer (how I would respond): ''Yeah I#'m mostly fine. I was just thinking about what the future is going to be like 30 years from now and if I'll ever actually accomplish anythin#g that I want to. which makes me feel X way for XYZ reason. you see because I had a dream last night that made me think of *continues to exp#lain my exact emotional state and inner thought process completely matter of factly in exact detail for 5 more minutes*#tfw you would be a badly written character if you existed in a story lol#This is also why I struggle making conflict because most conflicts can be resolved through conversation and I personally love to have long#detailed conversations about everything. Like literally I don't have hardly any conflicts interpersonally because if something happens it's#immediately followed up with like ''hey sorry if my tone of voice sounded a bit pointed or harsh. when you were talking to me I was trying#to balance all the stuff I was taking up the stairs and also my leg hurts so I think all my mental energy was being used there and I just#didn't feel like talking. I should have just said 'wait a minute and we can discuss it inside' instead of trying to end the conversation qui#ckly in a short rude way.' ''oh yeah thats fine. I thought it was something like that. sorry for hounding you about the topic as well. i#havent eaten in a while so I think I'm just a bit prickly at the moment. we should both rest for a while and destress from the store#trip and then talk about it later. maybe after lunch?' 'sure. sounds good.' like LITERALLY. lol#it is so hard for me to write characters who are bad communicators or don't understand their own internal states or arent constantly#analyzing their own actions to understand what they do/don't feel and why and what the cause of it is and etc. etc. etc.#I just naturally want everyone to perfectly undertsand everything and communicate amazingly and have complete self awareness and#logical presence of mind gjhbj.. which like.. of course comes across as unnatyural and also those type of people rarely ever get involved in#conflict and conflict is APPARENTLY what drives stories (even though I don't like most conflicts and just want to resolve them lol) so ...aa#I mean you can get around this to some degree by the fact that (at least in my opinion) no rule for dialogue is 100%. dialogue is good if it#sounds naturally like it comes from the character who said it. It can be meandering and pointless and rambly IF that matches the character.#it can be dry and overly self aware IF your character is that way and it suits them. So like throwing in a few detached scholar types or lik#e '5000 year old cave dwelling hermit' type people is good for me and works BUT the thing is an ENTIRE cast of characters can't be that way.#at some point - even in a setting where everyone is reserved and academic (like a research camp in the wilderness full of scholars and stuff#) still SOMEBODY has to be the one who's conflict prone and doesn't pristinely understand all of their emotions and etc. etc. Because statis#tically that is still literally the majority. Kind of like my tendency to make everyone 100% aromantic and asexul when it's like.. YES.. may#be 2 or 3 or even 4 out of 10 of them could be that way. but like.. an entire group? a diverse group of 10 people from all walks of life and#EVERY single one is like that??? hgjh . you have to add realistic variety#As much as I'm pro 'have more stories where sex or romance are literally NOT involved at all in any capacity since it's already oversaturate#d in media' I'm also dedicated to realism. alas. (at least as realistic as you can get in a fantasy setting lol)
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I HATE MY FUUCKIUNING BRAIN SHUTUP
#STUPID IMAGINATION#the saw trailer and one episode of dw i watched decided obviously i should dream about like#being trapped in some sort of fucking i dont even know in the house i used to live in that ended with time travel and#me murdering several people and like poking their guts and stuff#k maybe i watched the silent hill dnp video alone in the basement too but thats unrelated#also that dream was really bad and i hate the way my brain takes everything and squishes it together#anyway i need a hug but of course everyone i care about lives A BILLION FUCKING MILES AWAY#im gonna write soooooo much fanfic after this#its a coping mechanism i guess#left a lot of stuff out of that dream but it was. bad#anyway#i have to go to school#[insert cool original post tag]#one of my favorite people ever was there though so that was nice. during the start where it was all fun and cool hanging around in space#i think i was rose during that part for some reason#he was telling me to find puzzle pieces that were also active parts of my dream. it got dark quickly#you guys dont wanna hear about this#nevermind
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Do you ever listen to someone speak and marvel at how smooth, free-flowing, and free of pauses it is?
Because I sure do. I can’t do that.
Maybe that’s why I feel like most people’s speech is insincere even when it isn’t… because it sounds like how I would recite or read a script. That explains why I view people who aren’t native English speakers, have a heavy accent, and take long pauses to think of the words they need to say as being more trustworthy… because my cadence is similar to theirs; and we both stumble over words.
#I feel like that little kid “If you ever had a dream where— you want— you wish— if you could— you want….”#I’m not that bad; but I come very close to sounding like that sometimes LOL#I feel like I spoke more smoothly as a little kid…#but that’s probably because my verbal communication is almost at the same level it was at when I was eight years old#Like those people who have a growth spurt but end up being on the short side as adults because they stop growing immediately after#I figuratively shot up to 5’0” in third grade and never grew past that point#(with regard to clarity and flow specifically; not vocabulary… my vocabulary has definitely grown a LOT#but that’s only because I get sick of writing or talking in the same way for longer than a year… which is why I currently sound#like a pretentious 20th century englishman whenever I write fiction)#I have no “real” vernacular because I don’t feel comfortable with having a personal vernacular…#because using the same patterns of words over and over again for the same situations counts as para-scripting and feels fake#(to me)#sometimes I hear someone use a new word I’ve never heard in conversation; and I say “Cool! I’ll use that word myself.” But I later realize#it’s not just a fun one-time usage of a word; but it’s a catchphrase they say all the time and forsake any common synonyms of the word#— I assume — solely for the purpose of sounding smart to others (their behavior usually justifies my assumption; because these people#act like they’re better than everyone else)#And sometimes I catch myself doing the same thing; and I switch to a different word or format than I’ve been using; out of nothing#but embarrassment and twisted perfectionism#Or sometimes I come off the high of using lofty words and want to speak in a more commonplace way#and after awhile of that I start thinking “Wait a minute wait a minute…. Now I’m just trying to sound cool and normal.#This isn’t how I talk.”#But the truth is I really feel spoken language is an insufficient medium for communication.#I want a language in which the speakers pry open each others’ chests#rip out each others’ hearts; and rub them together#But at the same time it kills me that I cannot do the same amount of tonal shapeshifting when speaking#especially when my default (socially-acceptable) speaking voice sounds extremely airheaded#I’ve been trying to use larger words and more archaic sentence structures in speech lately and it feels good#but also like I’m trying to show off (even though I’m not and that’s just how I’d prefer to speak)#even then… all my speech patterns are copied from somewhere#It’s been a years-long identity crisis and I want it to end
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i can't believe i forgot it was the 2nd anniversary of little hope today ... absolutely one of my favorite games of all time and i haven't been able to stop thinking about it since !!
#my posts.#little hope#will probably delete this later but for now its a placeholder! just to say i said happy anniversary to such a brillaint game#saw some people in the tags defending it today and man is it nice to see that after the constant slander it's recieved#like. one day i'll go into harsh detail about how people's negative views of lh is steeped in ableism but! today is not that day#people beg for mental illness to be presented in media then hate a game who's main character IS mentally ill#and dont even get me started on 'it's all a dream trope is bad always!' like ???#wait until people learn that tropes can be overused and still be written incredibly well ... can't wait for that day#anyway lh is a game EMBEDDED in nuanced topics and mental illness and grief#if you hate it just because the 'monsters aren't real' and 'the ending doesnt matter' you missed the point of the game congrats!#like on one hand valid! but on the other hand if you think lh should've been your basic teenage horror game then ... no#also the demons designs were some of the most CREATIVE monster designs the studio has ever made ???#why are we sleeping on this ?? i just ... phew#this is inspiring me to make my essay on why this game is so great from a writing standpoint but for now im gonna nap#just had to give my props to a game thats genuinely changed my brain chemistry <3 cant believe its two years old now
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clj modern au would be so funny bc like it would be one of those rich kids dramas...... dfqc the young hot ceo of the cangyanghai conglomerate with a reputation for dirty business that just got back from abroad after a series of bad press secretly orchestrated by the absent ceo of the shuiyuntian media group's son, its current president ...
changheng is the younger son of the shuiyuntian ceo who doesnt rly do much bc hes a college student. just wastes his time hanging out with his friend rong hao thats weirdly obsessed with his former tutor and pines for this girl in his bio class (xiao lanhua). danyin is one of his fanclub members but also an intern at his brother's company and her main job is to stalk changheng and make sure hes not dating anyone even though no one's seen his fiancee in almost twenty years.
(danyin: uh president this feels illegal
changheng's brother: im paying you to follow changheng around all day
danyin: ...you're right. complaint retracted.)
xiao lanhua is a normal college student and siming is her adoptive mother and it turns out that xiao lanhua is the lost heiress to the xilan group entrusted to siming after her parents died (siming used to work for shuiyuntian but got fired after she fell for someone deemed an unsuitable connection to the company) and engaged to changheng but she alrdy fell in love with dfqc who she met when handing out fliers for the ice cream shop her adoptive parents run oops
#theres a sideplot where chidi nvzi is dfqc's exgf (they ended on very bad terms)#chidi nvzi also went missing after their breakup which led to all kinds of bad rumors for dfqc#the truth is that she got tired of the socialite bullshit and moved abroad to fulfill her cottagecore dreams#rong hao is unhealthily obsessed with the implications of this#he has been arrested for stalking dfqc multiple times#danyin's character growth is that she too fucks off and joins chidi nvzi abroad in her cottagecore lifestyle#this sounds crazy but i've actually seen wilder plot points in modern drama#all things considered this is very tame for a modern drama#hire me to write clj s2 modern arc!!#clj#au ideas#my writing
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yeah but i really got fucked over by the people i told this abt loll
#some of yall might remember my vent posts and stuff and yeah this situation didnt end well for me#i could talk abt this for hours honestly this is so messed up#yknow ive been thinking how i never really tell my friends what i go through at home anymore bc i began to doubt myself#even tho i KNOW it all happened. They did abuse me. Still do. But some part of me thinks#that i just made this up or that it wasnt actually that bad. even though it was. it was so much fucking worse. and having to go through it#again and again and again. i have no words. sometimes my mind just goes blank bc i dont want to think abt this stuff. i just want it to be#over.#some part of me thinks that if i tell somebody im ruining my abusers lives. even though theyre the one ruining mine. nothing can harm them.#especially my words. they will never face consequences bc the system doesnt work. and i dont want to ruin their life.#i just want it to be over.#i just want to go on and live my life and leave this all behind and start anew.#im an awful person. i have younger siblings and this was the only reason i decided to go through with telling someone at school abt this. bc#i didnt want them to suffer like me. i knew what their mindless actions did to me. and to see my siblings go through that.#but my sister absolutely hates me for telling the school#she says shes ashamed to go there bc people know#she thinks i made it up for attention even though she literallywas there when they beat me. she was fucking there lmfao#im sorry if this is too much but i need to get this somewhere out. writing it down is not enough and i cant tell this at anyone#kill me💗 the only thing keeping me alive is dreaming. very corny i know. but fantasizing abt my far away future is the only thing making me#go on. thinking abt my life after this ends. but sometimes its not enough and i just spend all my time watching stuff or reading or whatever#just watching stuff abt lives totally different from my own. that helps me focus on something else for a while. sighhhhhh
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Your au's for Ghost have me absolutely feral, specially now that I found the viking content. I'm a sucker for big cold man with a sweet angel for a wife 🥺
There's just so much angst potential, imagine the wife was this doe eyes lady that dreamt of love and read all the sweet fairy tales just to end up married to a brute that thing romance is dumb. Then she tries to make their relationship work in a more traditional sense but the attempts fail 🥺🥺🥺
It could be very angsty or a beauty and the beast type of situation where he tries his best for wifey.
beauty and the beast yes please and thank you or alternatively: lady and the tramp
c/w: fluff, mentions of smut, i’m bad at writing romance leave me alone i’m heartless
he’s always known you as his wife. from the second price dropped you in his lap like a stray kitten, mumbles of clan alliances and blah blah blah. you didn’t really have an opinion nor say about the whole situation. but you didn’t seem displeased with the arrangement your father made with price
it never really clicked in his brain that before you were his wife, you were once a little girl with a head full of dreams. hopes of growing up and finding a good man. one who will whisper sweet nothings in your ear at night, building a home and family with you, treat you like the darling thing that you are
and now here you are, the other half of this viscous soldier. a man who has never known a gentle touch in his life. his romantic experiences consist of going to the brothel and picking the first woman he sees to relieve the stress of battle. he never planned on taking a wife nor starting a family
you never complained. not once. even when he shut down your attempts at affection. you took it on the chin and moved on. perhaps you understood that you could definitely have it worse. simon is by no means a good man. but he certainly isn’t a cruel one either
he’s never laid a disrespectful hand on you. never allowed anyone to treat you as anything other than his wife. the same can’t be said for a lot of women put into these kinds of arrangements
he started to figure you out in bed one night. after being intimate together, he was sat up in bed, candlelight illuminating his sweaty chest as he pants to catch his breath. a flask of ale in his hand as he gulps it down
your form is splayed out in his lap, your legs tangled with those thick tree trunks he calls thighs. the covers are bunched up around you, barely concealing your naked bodies to anyone who might decide to intrude
it never makes him jump when he feels your nails dig into his back and claw down the muscle when he fucks you. or when your teeth bite down on his shoulder to cover your moans when he hikes up your skirt in the dark alley behind a tavern. but when your fingers gentle dance over the scars and tattoos littering his sweaty skin, he feels the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up
goosebumps prickle up and down his body when your lips graze over the large scar slashed across his burly chest, tongue flicking out ever so slightly to taste the sweat resting there,
"what're you doin'?" he grunts out, taking another sip of the ale. your eyes flick up to him, almost surprised that he's actually talking to you. you shrug your shoulders lightly, cheeks heating up slightly from his blunt acknowledgement of your affections
“appreciating what was gifted to me by the gods. your body is a blessing, husband…” you whisper so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. but he did
you considered him a gift. a blessing, even. from the gods themselves. simon almost wanted to laugh. another part wanted to tell you to stop, stop with these childish fantasies. but it soon made sense why you never gave up your attempts of coaxing approval from a man so afraid to love
somewhere, deep down inside of you. that little girl is pleading with you, begging you to make her dreams of finding true love come to life. telling you that you’re the only one who can do it. without you, she has no hope
perhaps it can’t hurt to indulge you. just this once.
#mw2#cod mw2#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost simon riley#ghost call of duty#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#viking!simon
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His Sister | Lewis Hamilton
WC: 4.6K
Lewis Hamilton X Verstappen!Reader
Max Verstappen X reader!Sister
Summery: You have always been there for your brother, giving up everything for him, so when you decide to date his rival, what will he do.
Warnings: age gap(age not specified) mention of abuse, Jos Verstappen is an a-hole, Max is also an ass, bad childhood, bad father, cursing, alusion to smut but no actual smut
AN: this had me in tears at some parts, I was going, why did he do this 😭 as if I didn't write it, lol
Hope you all enjoy
Masterlist
Part 2
Growing up, Verstappen wasn’t easy. Growing up with Jos Verstappen as your guardian and the one that has custody is hard. Being the oldest, Verstappen is damn near impossible. Could you have chosen to live with your mother? Yes, but that would’ve left Max alone with Jos, something you weren’t about to do. Admittedly you were young yourself, but even at a young age you knew that if Max was left with Jos alone it wouldn’t turn out good for your brother, you’ve always been motherly and have so much love in you that you just shared it with those around you and your siblings got the most of it. It made perfect sense to you as a young girl to leave your life with your mother and sister and go with your brother and father.
At one point you were the one Karting, you loved cars and karting since you were young, with both parents into motorsport it was hard not to, and even Jos couldn’t deny how good you were, but alas you’re a female and there’s no way you’d make it all the way to F1, something that Jos loves to remind you of. That’s the reason he stopped you from going once Max started winning in karting, and he wanted to focus on his child, who would achieve all his personal dreams and make it into F1. Maybe it’s your love for the sport that made it easier but you enjoyed every time you went to a track and watched the karts race, you dreaded after the races though, to Jos anything but first is a failure. On days like that, you’d follow your father and stand in his way, he’d shout at you and push you around, and you’d take it all in all in the hope that by the time he reached Max he wouldn’t be angry, or at least you’d take the blunt end of his anger. That didn’t always happen and on those days you’d just stay with your brother holding his hand, walking with him home in the cold, in the rain and in the heat of the sun, never letting him go through a punishment alone and never letting him go through your punishments.
It was all in the hope that Max would reach F1 one day, and he did, he’s in Formula 1 now, he’s been there since he was 17, he skipped so many steps and jumped into Formula 1, he went from Toro Rosso to RedBull in a record time and he was racing with legends and world champions before you had time to comprehend it. All whilst you watched him from the garage, as a family member and a part of his team, never missing a race. Driving him around when he didn’t have his driver’s licence, hugging him after each win and DNF, picking up the pieces after a scolding from Jos and tearing up when he got his first win. Always smiling and happy for him no matter what.
You’d think now that you’re all older, the talk from your father wouldn’t affect you, that you’d get used to his words, and they won’t affect you. But he’s your dad. It never gets easy.
So here you are standing at the back of the garage you’re both watching the screen, when the camera cuts to you, you smile a bit before it cuts off back to the race, with one pull you’re away from prying eyes of people in the garage. Only the few people at the back could see you.
“What?” You ask your dad with a frown. His grip on your bicep is like iron. You hold in a wince and look him in the eye.
”What was that?” He whisper shouted, you looked at him confused. “Don’t give me that stupid look. How many times have I told you, I don’t like that look.”
”I’m just confused, I don’t know what you mean.” You explain yourself and try to act normal, all while knowing it’s about to get worse, he’s in a mood, Max’s race hasn’t been going like he’d like, he’s currently in second with Checo in first, something bad in your dad’s books.
”Don’t play stupid, I know what you’re playing at.” Jos squeezes more, and you’re bound to have a bruise by tomorrow morning.
“I’m literally doing nothing.” You move trying to pull your arm out of his grip, and he lets go of you but leans down in your face.
”I saw that look you gave the camera, don’t ruin your brother’s image.” You close your eyes and bite your lip, and it takes you a few seconds before you neutralise your expression into blankness. “Don’t look like a slut, it could affect the sponsors.”
”But I wasn’t.” You mutter, but he just scoffs.
”Don’t. Play. Games. With. Me.” With each word through his fretted teeth, he poked/pushed you with his finger at your shoulder, having you move back every time.
”I’m not.” You insist. Thankfully, before he can reply, someone clears their throat, making you both look to the side to see Hemlut standing there. He doesn’t look amused.
”Keep your family affairs out of the garage, please.” Was all he said before he turned to look at the screen. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes, giving your dad one last look you turn and go watch the race from a different spot in the garage as far away from him as you could get.
Max ended up winning the race, with Lewis second and Charles third. So all was good in the end, your brother won the race, your dad was back in his happy mode, and your day was ruined. You rushed with the crowd to congratulate Max on his win. Your brother comes to you for a hug. You kiss his cheek as you always do and pat his back.
”Congratulations Maxie.”
”Thanks.” He gives you a big smile before he’s rushed to get weighed, you look at Ferrari as they congratulate Charles, the sea of red eye catching, looking around you don’t see any Mercedes dressed personal in the vicinity. Your eyes then fell to the 7 times world champion, he’s sitting on the floor looking tired, his eyes swept over the teams looking for his own. You feel bad for him. His family must not be here today, and his team didn’t bother to show up for him.
Later that day, you found yourself pulled to a club to celebrate another Max win, you’re usually up for the celebration, but after what happened at the garage, you weren’t feeling up to it. However, you can never say no to Max when he asks you to do something all nice and loving, so that’s how you ended up here. In a random club, with a lot of Formula 1 workers from all teams and FIA, they’re all having the times of their lives as if they’re not rivals and hate each other, every other day of the week. You’ve sat down the moment you walked in and haven’t moved, drinks coming to you, but you’ve only been sipping light ones, not wanting to get drunk and deal with a headache in the morning.
An hour in, you head to the bar to order water or a soda, not in the mood to drink more. With a sigh, you lean on the bar and wait for the bartender to make his way to you, looking bored out of your life.
”You don’t look like you’re having fun.” Someone says, coming up to stand beside you, the accent familiar, but you couldn't pinpoint why before you turn and your eyes fall on a pair of brown eyes.
”Not really.” You say and shrug, turning so you’re both facing each other. “I mean you’re the first person to come up to talk to me in the last hour or something.”
”I don’t believe that, a beautiful woman like you.” Lewis gives you a small smile, and you chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes.
“I know, right, and here I dressed up, only for it not to work.” You say a tone of amusement lanced into your words, liking this banter going back and forth.
”I wouldn’t say it’s not working.” Lewis says and looks you up and down, you blush under his gaze but the smile doesn’t drop from your lips, the bartender comes up to you right then and asks you for your order, you ask for a glass of water and a soda, before he turns to Lewis who doesn’t ask for a drink. “You’re not drinking?”
”I had a couple of drinks, but I don’t feel like getting drunk.” You tell him, and he hums, you lean closer as if you’re going to say a secret. “Between you and me, I didn’t want to be here anyways.”
”Me neither, why are you here?” Lewis asks, you look around the club, and your eyes fall onto your brother having the time of his life with his friends.
”Because my brother wanted me to come.” You say not looking away from Max, who was smiling and enjoying himself, it brings a smile to your face seeing him carefree. Your favourite type of Max.
”You’re Max’s sister.” At Lewis’ words, you realise he didn’t know who you were, your head snaps to look at him and give him the smallest of smiles, a defeated look hiding behind your eyes. As if you’re expecting the worst.
”Yeah, is that a problem?” You ask him already knowing what he’ll say. Your brother is his biggest rival. There’s history between them, and it’s not all rainbows and sunshine. Just because they have respect for each other doesn’t mean they love the other.
”No, you’re not Max.” This did surprise you, and it showed on your face, Lewis winked, and you shook your head. “Do you want to head out of here?”
”Sure.” With that, you and Lewis turn and head out. Everyone’s too drunk or too occupied to see your retreating figures.
Let’s just say that you enjoyed your night, Lewis isn’t just good at racing. He did convince you to stay the night after everything was said and done, with his eyes half lidded and you both breathing hard it was the easiest yes you’ve ever said.
You woke up alone with the shower going in the background, feeling lazy. You sat up in bed and looked out the window. The view from his room was beautiful. You’re so lost in thought you don’t realise when the water stopped running or when Lewis came in the room. He stood there looking at you, your back bare for him to see, your hair messy, the sun coming from the windows making you glow. Lewis, dressed in only his boxers, moves to the bed and slots himself behind you, his bare chest meeting your back as his arms sneak around your waist, pulling you back. You lean into his chest and take a deep breath, content with the moment. Lewis’ lips find their home where your neck meets your shoulder, placing soft feather-like kisses up and down the exposed skin, you move your head to the side giving him more room to do as he wants.
”Lewis.” You moan suddenly breathless, Lewis moves his hands up your arms lightly before you wince in pain, making him stop all movements and pull away from you. You freeze and close your eyes instantly, knowing why you were in pain.
”What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Lewis asks, feeling guilt for causing you pain. You shake your head no and sigh, still not looking at him.
”No, no, it’s not you.” Lewis looks at where his hands were and he sees the bruise on your bicep, his mind goes to last night and he thinks over his actions, did he hold your bicep, maybe squeezed a bit too hard. It definitely looks like hand marks. You stand up still naked and snatch Lewis’s shirt from the night before from the floor where you threw it and slip it on. The oversized shirt falls mid thigh, and the short sleeves come down to your elbows covering your bruise.
”Who the fuck did this to you?” Lewis follows you off the bed, you turn to look at him crossing your arms protectively, suddenly feeling self conscious, you refuse to meet his eyes and clear your throat but no words came out of your mouth. “y/n, just tell me what happened?”
”It’s nothing. He didn’t mean to.” You mutter and shake your head, your hair falling into your face.
“Who? Who did it?” Lewis pleaded with you and you closed your eyes and bit your lip to stop the tears, it wasn’t a secret how rough your father is especially in the RedBull garage but no one outside a few observant people(which don’t include Max) know how rough he is with you.
”My dad, but he was just angry. He’s not like that, not anymore.” You mumble the last part, but Lewis heard it loud and clear, and just like yesterday, he surprises you. Lewis pulls you in for a hug, his tattooed arms just pulling you close, and he holds you. He just holds you.
”Bloody hell, love, I’m sorry.” Lewis says in your hair, and you raise your head to look at him, but still staying in his hold.
”You have absolutely no reason to be sorry.” You tell him and your hands move up to his face, lightly touching his cheek, your eyes taking him in. “I don’t really care.”
“It still doesn’t make it right. You shouldn’t go through something like this.” Lewis says, and you shrug.
”Life isn’t really fair.” He felt that there’s more behind those words. You didn’t just mean what happened the day before. There’s more pain in your voice, in your past, and to him, it looked like no one took the time to talk to you about them to help you through those pains. Lewis finds himself wondering why, he’s known you for less than 24 hours and all he wants to do is get to know you, uncover all your secrets, help you where you need help, support you where you need support.
”Well, if you let me, I think I can make it a little more fair.” Lewis says, deciding that this isn’t the last time he’ll spend time with you. He pulls back and goes to his bedside table where his phone rests.
”What are you talking about?” You ask him confused.
”Give me your number, I’m taking you out next time we’re both free.” Lewis says and hands you his phone. You slowly take it and look up at him with wide eyes.
”You want to go out with me? like on a date?” You wanted to make sure you understood him correctly.
”I do.”
“Even though you know I come with baggage.” You want to make sure he understands it won’t be easy.
”I don’t think it’s baggage, but even if it was, I don’t care.” Lewis gives you one of his smiles that make you weak in your knees, and you don’t think twice and type in your number. Lewis instantly calls you, and your phone rings before he ends the call. “Now you also have my number, and if you ever need something, or someone or a place to just call me.”
”Thank you.”
”I haven’t done anything yet, love.”
”Oh you’ve already done a lot.” Most people would act as if nothing happened and they saw nothing, most wouldn’t want to go out with you knowing there’s a lot in your past that needs solving, most wouldn’t go out with their rival’s sister, but most aren’t Lewis Hamilton, and you’re glad he’s not like the most.
You and Lewis start texting, getting to know each other. You see a side to the Mercedes driver you’ve never seen before. He’s so easy to talk to. You feel like whatever you tell him is a secret he’ll take to the grave. In the couple weeks since you’ve started talking you’ve been more open with him than anyone else, not just about your past and growing up with Jos but about your feelings. He never judges and gives the best advice. He’s been supportive and understanding to a point you’ve asked yourself how he is real.
You asked him to keep your budding friendship (turing relationship) a secret and he agreed 100% with you, it’ll cause a lot of trouble when and if it comes out, and you’re not ready for that. And for the first time in forever you don’t spend your free time between races where Max is, you fly to wherever Lewis is, and so for a month you both find that time to get to know the other in a way that you’ve never done before, and you find yourself being Lewis’s girlfriend and it makes you the happiest thinking about it. He’s made you happier, and those closest to you have noticed you’re more smiley and happy those days.
Sneaking around like children, not two adults was part of the fun, but it also made it harder for you.
”What are you smiling at?” Kelly asks, leaning closer to you. You close your phone in an instant to the amusement of your brother’s girlfriend. Max was in a meeting or doing something for media, so you and Kelly were having lunch in the paddock.
“Nothing.” You say, and your face flushes red, making her laugh.
”Come on, I can tell you’re texting someone.” Kelly laughs and nudges you. You roll your eyes and take a sip from your drink. “Who is he?”
”Nonone.”
”So there’s someone.” Kelly raises her eyebrows, and you sigh and nod your head. Yes, Kelly squeals and looks like she’s ready for a gossip session.
“Kelly, you’re not getting more out of me.” You tell the female, and she pouts.
”Why? Even Max is wondering who you’re texting all the time.” Kelly is confused, and rightfully so, you’re very open with her and Max. Not the type to keep something like this a secret. Or so they thought, but how can they be 100% sure when you haven’t been with anyone for years or even shown interest in anyone.
”That’s why I can’t tell you.”
”What? you can trust me, I won’t tell him if you don't want to.” Kelly felt offended that you didn’t trust her to keep a secret. She’s close to you. Anyone close to Max is close to you. His friends are your friends.
”I wouldn't do that to you, if he found out you knew and didn’t tell him he’ll get mad.” You explain to her, wanting her to understand where you’re coming from.
”No he wouldn't.” Kelly replies, and you give her a look making her sigh, Max is protective, and no one is good enough for you in his eyes. “Okay maybe he will be, but who could you be dating for you to be so sure he’ll get mad, anyways.”
“I love you, Kells, but I can’t tell you.” You both sat in silence for a bit, Kelly was thinking of any possible men you might’ve come across the last month, she started crossing some out of the list she made in her mind that you wouldn’t like, before her eyes went wide.
”It’s a driver!” She shouts, and a few eyes snapped to look at you both. You choke on your drink and cough a few times. “Sorry.”
”What the fuck Kelly, you want to tell the whole world?” You whisper shout and she looks apologetically muttering sorry.
”It’s a driver then.” She whispered and you reluctantly nod, who knew this lunch would cause you so much. “I’m not going to push you for more… yet.”
”Well thank god for that.” You mutter, but know that she’ll look and analyse every single interaction you have with any driver. Kelly went over the 19 drivers, crossing out those in a relationship. Nico, Kevin, Valtteri, Daniel, Checo, Carlos, Pierre, Alex, Esteban, Charles, Oscar, and George are all in a relationship. That narrows it down, but it’s still a bit, but a few are still single. Fernando, Lewis, Lance, Zhou, Lando, Yuki and Logan that left her with 7 drivers that are single, and you’re at the age that dating someone older would raise a few eyebrows and so would dating some of the younger drivers, but it wouldn’t be totally out of the box. Lance is the one closest to you in age, but she doesn’t think he’s your type.
After the Austin Grand Prix, Lewis makes it to your room, and a few teams booked their rooms at the same hotel, something that you’ve come to appreciate. Your room isn’t as big as Lewis’s but it just happened that he made it to your room, the brit, and you decided to chill and have a lazy night. The TV was on, but you both weren’t focused on it, each having a glass of Almave in hand, the non alcoholic drink your new favourite and it looked like you’d never run out of it.
You just finished telling Lewis about something that happened when you were younger and still karting, telling him about all the drama that happened then and how silly it is. His arm was on the back of the sofa beides your head, your legs over his lap, and his other hand was on your thigh rubbing softly at the skin visible from your bunched up shorts.
”Why did you stop karting?” Lewis asked, your smile from laughing wasn’t all gone yet, but it did falter a bit. You suck in your lips and run your tongue over them.
”My dad said that there’s no place for women in motorsport and that Max will carry the family name in Formula 1.” You shrug, your head dropping a little. The hand besides your head moves to your face making you raise your head and look at him, Lewis felt bad for you but he tried not to be obvious about it, he knew you wouldn't want him to.
“I know for a fact then if you continued, you’d be kicking all out asses on track.” Lewis said softly, and you gave him a tight-lipped smile.
”You haven’t even seen me karting.” You tell him softly and find that your breath hits his face from how close you’ve gotten.
”Next time we meet up, we’ll do that.” Lewis said and gave your thigh a squeeze. You hum and lean closer, your lips meeting his. His lips were warm and soft, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head. And as always, his lips made a spark ignite inside you and left you warm and fuzzy. Soft sighs left your lips as your lips moved, Lewis’s hand moved up your thigh and over your butt, tugging you so you’d move with him until you’re standing him. You pull back just a little, your breath mingling with his, his eyes looking at you and making you fall in love with him.
”Lewis.” Just the way you said his name left him breathless and needy, he pulled you down for your lips to meet again.
You’re both disturbed when Lewis’s phone rings, you move from on top of him and he reaches over to get his phone, seeing the caller ID he gives you an apologetic look and answers the phone. You sigh sadly, feeling a bit irritated to be interrupted, but Lewis is a busy man, and she understands this.
“I’m sorry, love, but I have to go.” Lewis leans over to kiss your head before hastily gathering his things. “It’s an emergency meeting, I’ll text you when I’m done and come back.”
”Okay, I’ll wait for you.” You say and lay back on the sofa taking out your phone to scroll through the TV is still going. Around half an hour later, your door is opened, making you raise your head and frown when you see Max walking in.
”How did you get in?”
”I have a card.” Max shows you the door card that had your room number on it.
”Why?” You ask him confused. He also relieved that he hadn’t come in when Lewis was still here.
”You’ve been losing yours a lot lately, so I thought to just ask for one.” Max shrugged as if it’s normal, he sat down in the chair by your legs so you could look at him, you rolled your eyes at his words, not needing to ask how the front desk gave it to him. You haven’t been losing your cards. You’ve been asking for an extra one to give to Lewis.
“What’s that?” Max asks, and you don’t bother looking up from your phone.
”What’s what?”
“That.” You sigh and sit up, looking to where your brother is pointing, your heart drops. Lewis forgot his watch, and it’s laying there on the side table that had a lamp on it, and it’s so very obvious not yours. The IWC Big Pilot’s Watch Perpetual Calendar ‘Lewis Hamilton’ Edition IW503002 is a beauty, but no way can it be yours. You curse Lewis in your mind for taking it off when he first came in. You open your mouth and close it a couple of times, trying to find words to say but coming up empty. “I’ve seen this before.”
”I don’t think so.” You say nervously, chuckling. Max frowns in thought as he tries to remember where he had seen the watch before.
”No I’ve seen it, I remember the red.” Max mumbles, and the moment he remembers you can tell, his face says it all. “L-Lewis? That’s who you’ve been seeing behind my back.”
”Max-“
”No you had your chance to tell me, but you didn’t.” Max stands up, and you follow suit. His voice is angry and irritated, a bit of betrayal in there as well. “How could you date Lewis and not tell me how could you even date him, I can’t believe you’d do something like this!”
”I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d get angry, and I didn’t want you to be angry.” You try to explain to him your reason, but he’s having none of that.
”Because I’m calm now.” Max says sarcastically.
”Max, this is why I didn’t tell you.” Your hands move in frustration, one of your legs shake in anxiety, and you whisper. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
”What is there to understand? You’re sleeping with my rival.” Max shouts, it breaks you. Max may have this image as the villain in public but he’s not like that with you, he’s always been nice and loving, you’re the best thing about his childhood, the warm hug he had, the person he relayed on, the person that could always make him smile. Seeing the look in his eyes makes tears gather in yours. “y/n, I can’t believe you. After everything you’re just, what? Selling yourself to Lewis-“
”Max.”
”-Do you have any idea-“
”Max.”
”-how this can affect my image-“
”Max, please.”
”-I thought I could count on you not to do something like this-“
”I didn’t.”
”-Dad was right.”
”Wh-what?” This just breaks you in two, completely shatters you.
”He said that you’re an attention who-“
”Okay enough.” You say and raise your hands in the air to stop him, tears leaving your eyes freely. “Please leave, I can’t hear you anymore, I can’t.”
Max fights the need to say sorry and hug you. He’s too in his emotions, and he’s too stubborn and hardheaded to say anything.
”Just leave, please.” Max turns and leaves your room. The quality time he wanted to spend with you is ruined. The moment the door closes, he feels like his relationship with you is forever changed. It cracked, and he curses himself for being so careless with his words.
Part 2
#lewis x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 scenario#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton#team lh44#lh44#lh#f1 fic#f1#max verstappen x reader
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In Defense of Shitty Queer Art
Queer art has a long history of being censored and sidelined. In 1895, Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray was used as evidence in the author’s sodomy trials. From the 1930s to the 1960s, the American Hays Code prohibited depictions of queerness in film, defining it as “sex perversion.” In 2020, the book Steven Universe: End of an Era by Chris McDonnell confirmed that Rebecca Sugar’s insistence on including a sapphic wedding in the show is what triggered its cancellation by Cartoon Network. According to the American Library Association, of the top ten most challenged books in 2023, seven were targeted for their queer content. Across time, place, and medium, queer art has been ruthlessly targeted by censors and protesters, and at times it seems there might be no end in sight.
So why, then, are queer spaces so viciously critical of queer art?
Name any piece of moderately-well-known queer media, and you can find immense, vitriolic discourse surrounding it. Audiences debate whether queer media is good representation, bad representation, or whether it’s otherwise too problematic to engage with. Artists are picked apart under a microscope to make sure their morals are pure enough and their identities queer enough. Every minor fault—real or perceived—is compiled in discourse dossiers and spread around online. Lines are drawn, and callout posts are made against those who get too close to “problematic art.”
Modern examples abound, such as the TV show Steven Universe, the video game Dream Daddy, or the webcomic Boyfriends, but it’s far from a new phenomenon. In his book Hi Honey, I’m Homo!, queer pop culture analyst Matt Baume writes about an example from the 1970s, where the ABC sitcom titled Soap was protested by homophobes and queer audiences alike—before a single episode of the show ever aired. Audiences didn’t wait to actually watch the show before passing judgment and writing protest letters.
After so many years starved for positive representation, it’s understandable for queer audiences to crave depictions where we’re treated well. It’s exhausting to only ever see the same tired gay tropes and subtext, and queer audiences deserve more. Yet the way to more, better, varied representation is not to insist on perfection. The pursuit of perfection is poison in art, and it’s no different when that art happens to be queer.
When the pool of queer art is so limited, it feels horrible when a piece of queer art doesn’t live up to expectations. Even if the representation is technically good, it’s disappointing to get excited for a queer story only for that story to underwhelm and frustrate you.
But the world needs that disappointing art. It needs mediocre art. It even needs the bad art. The world needs to reach a point where queer artists can fearlessly make a mess, because if queer artists can only strive for perfection, the less art they can make. They may eventually produce a masterpiece, but a single masterpiece is still a drop in the bucket compared to the oceans of censorship. The only way to drown out bigotry and offensive stereotypes created by bigots is to allow queer artists the ability to experiment, learn through making mistakes, and represent their queer truth even if it clashes with someone else’s.
If queer artists aren’t allowed to make garbage, we can never make those masterpieces everyone craves. If queer artists are terrified at all times that their art will be targeted both by bigots and their own queer communities, queer art cannot thrive.
Let queer artists make shitty art. Let allies to queer people try their hand at representation, even if they miss the mark. Let queer art be messy, and let the artists screw up without fear of overblown retribution.
It’s the only way we’ll ever get more queer art.
_
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[previous]
This isn’t saying you shouldn’t write bad or sad stories or anything, but from Gaster’s perspective as a character in those stories of course he’d want “happy” endings, haha.
But anyway, I kept telling you guys that when Handplates was over I would tell you. Well... here we are. After seven long years, here we are.
When I started I never thought I’d make it. To be honest, it doesn’t feel real to me at all. My brain still expects to do another page in about two weeks as it always does. I assume it’ll take a while to sink in. There’s a lot to say but this post is already incredibly long (sorry), so it’s probably suited to its own post.
But for all of you out there who read this story, whether you were there from the beginning or just came in now, thank you so much. And for all of you that were inspired by this comic, who created things for it, who blessed me with so many amazing gifts of art and fic and music and dubs and videos and so much more... I don’t know how to thank you enough. I never dreamed that an idle idea could have come this far or had such an impact on my life and so many people, but it did.
I kind of feel at a loss for words... again it’s very surreal. But I will say that Gaster wondering whether the kid is an actual human or not has an unintended level to it since my avatar is a fox but it’s TOO LATE NOW I GUESS lol.
( About how it’s a long, long, long journey that we’ve been on
And it’s a long long long story that shall be told
And it’s a long long day, and we’ve come a long long way
But there’s still a long way to go
It’s a long long long way
It’s a long long strong way
It’s a long long long way
Forward - [x] )
[index] [patreon] [comicfury]
#undertale#handplates#z art#z comic#gaster#the human#long post#asgore seeing gaster standing out in the rain and running out to bring him an umbrella#gaster getting to spend the finale looking really irritated about everything lol#it's what he would have wanted#i left my gardening book in the rain and now i'll never have that book again#oh noooooo#the rain is my tears
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Hi! I don't know if you write for Adam, but this man has me in an unholy choke hold and I've literally read through all the Adam fics on this site already. I am begging, on my hands and knees, for you to please write an Adam x female reader smut oneshot. Literally anything you want.
I absolutely loved your Lucifer close proximity fic btw!! You're writing is literally insane and I just know you'd do Adam's character justice!
Thank youuuu
Thank you!! Sorry this is coming out so long after you sent it in, but hope you guys enjoy!
Also to other ppl reading this! I've seen your lovely messages in my inbox and I 100% intend on responding to them I'm just swamped with Uni work at the moment. But thank you all so much!!
This is literally pure smut btw, minors DNI!! Adam is very Adam in this. Lmk what you guys think I love to hear your thoughts! Especially because Adam is so hard to write!
Tag list - @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx
Adam x f!reader - After a Shitty Meeting with the Blond Short-Stack
To put it bluntly, Adam had had a particularly shitty day, and that was saying a lot considering there were absolutely no bad days in heaven. This day, however, had seemed to drag on for an eternity, and by the end of it he felt like punching a whole through every window that he walked past on his way home from work, having to walk instead of fly because he was too furious to trust his wings not to give out on him if he became too lost in thought.
To summarise, he had had to meet Lucifer today, the pompous, prideful, wife-stealing piece of short-blonde-shit that lorded about Hell as if he wasn’t banished there purposefully for his sins. The meeting wasn’t in person, with him attending from Heaven and Lucifer attending from Hell, but simply being within any sort of presence of the blond gnome had his blood boiling and his fingers itching to grab the nearest weapon and shove it through his chest. And today, well, Lucifer had gone too far.
Sure, Adam may have started it with some comment about Lucifer’s daughters failing redemption-business, and how the timer was ticking until the upcoming extermination, but really, who was Lucifer to dare let your name spill from his lips? In a mockery of your and Adam’s relationship no less.
That self-entitled little shit-eating smirk had graced Lucifer’s ridiculously rosy cheeks, and he had dared insinuate he could steal you right from under Adam’s nose the next time you went down to Hell, just like his two previous wives. He was thankful for his mask which had concealed the utter shock-horror that had overtaken his features at the insult, but he also wished Lucifer would have seen his absolute unbridled hatred once he had rebounded from the insult: if looks could have killed, Lucifer would have been incinerated on the spot. The comment had riled Adam up so much that Lute had had to step in to steer the meeting back on track, and it had taken all of his self-control, and Lute’s, to stop him from immediately teleporting down to Hell and blasting Lucifer to whatever the fuck came after Hell. He grumbles to himself angrily, hand rubbing at his temples as he finally reaches his front door. God, he just wanted to have a drink and go to bed, where hopefully he would dream about murdering Lucifer and lording it up with you above his grave. Maybe you guys could make out right next to his grave, that would really prove a point.
He slams the front door shut harsher than he should have, and immediately storms through the house, desperate to just see you in one of the rooms – he’d even break into the bathroom even if you were mid-shit if he had to, he just had to see you.
“Babe?” He calls, wings tucked tightly against his back as he prowls the corridor, poking his masked head into each room he came across, finally relaxing when he saw you relaxing with a book curled up in the loveseat in the living room.
“Adam!” You grin over at him, and the tension in his shoulders shifts at the sight, releasing a tight breath as you perk up as he approaches, tucking your bookmark back into place and waiting for him expectantly. Of course you would be here, he reprimands himself, furious that Lucifer could get to him in such a way; where else would you be? “How was your day? You had that meeting right? Did it go well?” You rapid-fire your questions, and you suddenly frown as he approaches. “You’ve still got your mask on, it didn’t go well.”
“Yes, hello sugar, it’s nice to see you too, damn.” He mutters, frustrated at himself for being so easy to read, and frustrated at you for reading him so easily, finally coming to a stop before you. “Can’t a man just wear his cool-ass mask? I just forgot, okay?”
“You can do anything you please, I’m just worried.” You look up at him sympathetically, and he immediately knew his tough-guy act was immediately lost on you. Who was he kidding? Today had been particularly shit, and he just wanted to be with you. Not to ease his worries, no, no, he was secure in his relationship, confident in his charm (he was fucking Adam, who could compare?) but just… because he wanted to be with you.
He wasn’t even convincing himself.
“Want to talk about it?” You ask softly, watching as he tugs the mask from his face and places it against the coffee table. His hair was a mess, and you could see the way his brows pinched into a light frown as he attempted to hide his frustration.
“Fuck no.” He shakes his head. “You’re right, the meeting went shitty. That pompous little prick-“ He cuts himself off, pursing his lips lightly as he stares down at you. He didn’t want to tell you what Lucifer had said. He knew you wouldn’t suddenly act on what he had said, but still, he daren’t even breathe the possibility into existence. “I just want to be home, with you.”
“I think I can help with that.” You grin, shuffling over on the love seat and staring up at him expectantly, an absolutely lovely smile on your rosy lips.
"What would I do without you?" Adam questions, sitting down next to you heavily and leaning in for a proper kiss. One of his large hands falls to your waist as he leans in closer, your back leaning against the arm of the armrest as he approaches, slender fingers weaving into the locks at the nape of his neck to hold him closer. He pulls away for a moment, pressing heavy kisses against your jawline, eyes closed to the world and enjoying the feeling of your fingertips against the nape of his neck.
"Is there anything else I could help with?" You utter softly, head tilting back to expose your neck. A sudden grin takes over your features. You were about to play with fire, but you couldn't help yourself. "Perhaps give Lucifer a talking to?"
"Why," he growls, pressing one last kiss beneath your ear before he pulls back, both hands falling to your twisted hips. "would you mention that old fucks name when I have my lips against you."
"Just trying to help." You bats your eyelashes playfully, a laugh escaping you at his furrowed expression.
"I seem to recall you saying 'anything I please' not only five minutes ago." He leans closer, a hand grasping the armrest you leant against, caging you in with a devilish grin. "This is how you can help. Distract me."
"Adam!" You mock, palms sliding up his biceps and resting against his chest as you lean further back, further from his lips. His eyes narrow in frustration. "I fear you have misunderstood-"
"You know exactly what you were doing, babe."
A flash of pearly white teeth as you laugh again, fingers pulling at his lapels to drag him closer. "I'm afraid I don't."
His lips cover yours as a hand slides beneath you, a hand grasping firmly at your ass as he sucks all air from your lungs, a moan rewarding his efforts. Adam moans as a hand tugs at his locks, pulling your waist closer as he bores down, a knee sliding up your skirt and forcing your legs to part, falling freely without encouragement. Your red silk skirt bunches up around your waist, guided by his hands to expose your milky thighs to the cool air. You gasp against him.
"You going to be good for me?" He mumbles against your lips, large hands guiding your hips, thigh rubbing at your heat through the thin layer of your underwear. "You going to be a good girl and distract me?"
You hum in response, vocalising your pleasure as his tongue slides into your mouth, not even bothering to put up a fight as Adam hungrily licks into your mouth, grip forcing your hips to shift against his own as you grasp at his biceps.
"You’re such a fucking tease." He moans between kisses to your skin, hands tugging fabric from your collarbone as he kisses lower. "If I wasn’t as generous, I’d make you do all the work tonight." He presses another deep kiss to your lips, caging you between his arms and nestling between your parted thighs. "Lucky for you I’m fucking pissed."
"Adam." You groan quietly, eyes fluttering as he licks his way down the column of your throat, teeth grazing your hot skin as he yanks your top down your shoulders. He doesn’t bother unhooking your bra, splitting it down the middle with a grin and ignoring your complaints with a harsh bite into the skin of your breast. Adam grins against your reddening skin as his free hand comes up to grip your other breast, rolling the bud tightly between his fingers as he sucks and bites around the swell of your breast. He groans at the feeling of your hands gripping his broad shoulders, fingers edging closer and closer to his wings, hips rolling forward and cock twitching in his garments. He delves forward, warm mouth wrapping around a pert nipple without warning, Adam pays you no mind when you gasp at a particularly hard nip, suckling hungrily as his left-hand travels lower to press your hips up and against him. Your head lolls back as he groans around your bud, thrusting his hips against your clothed core. He continues, on and on, until the pained groans turn into pleasured whines, your thighs quivering around his hips and hands carding through his locks.
He pulls away for air, pressing sloppy kisses along the wet skin at your chest. "Look at you, I’ve not even touched you and you’re whining like a bitch." He groans, pressing a kiss to the swollen nipple pinched between his fingers. "I know I’m good, but this is pitiful babe. Fucking desperate.”
You had half a mind to remind him that he was the one that had stormed into your living room and practically demanded you attention after a shitty day, but with his mouth against you and hands gripping your thighs like his life depended on it, you were happy to remain silent, breathing airily as he sucked harshly at your skin.
“I’d be a pretty shitty husband if I just left my wife like this, huh?"
“Adam-“ You go to warn at his mockingly coy tone, him having played this hard-to-get game before and leaving you wanting until it was actually you desperate for his touch, and not the other way around. This time, however, he didn’t have the patience for such games, your voice dying with a hitch of breath as he latches onto your other nipple, free hand travelling beneath your skirt to the damp spot growing against your underwear. He circles the damp fabric, feather-light and teasing, not yet touching the place you craved the most.
"Adam, baby," You breath heavily, chest heaving as he continues to lavish a pert nipple with his tongue, hands tugging at his robe and sliding down the smooth skin of his chest. "Adam, please."
With a harsh nip he unlatches from your chest, peering down at you with dark eyes, the gold barely glinting in the dim light of the room, breathing heavy. A smirk tugs at his lips, brunet locks falling in front of his eyes as you continue to work yourself against his thigh, wide eyes shining and whining pathetically.
"Please, what?" He shifts, clothed cock pressing harshly against your groin, rutting once, twice. "Fuck you? Make you feel good? Feel better than anyone else ever could?” He rolls his hips again, you whimper. "Or, please stop? Leave you in this state? Return to my duties?"
"No, no- please," your breath hitches as he bites at the soft mound of flesh below your right nipple, a trail of red and purple left behind as he nips lower. "Please, fuck me." Your hands finally dig into his wings, close to where they joined at his back, fingertips digging into the feathers and tugging lightly. You can feel the way his hands tighten either side of your ribcage, and you can see the way his pupils dilate as a red hue creeps up his neck and flushes the skin of his cheeks.
"Fuck," he moans, cock twitching in his breaches. His thumbs dig into your abdomen as his hands clench against your hips, stopping you from moving against him. God, this was exactly what he needed after this shitty day. You must have been some sort of Saint in disguise. "You fucking tease, fucking hands in my-“ He has to stop when you tug again, and he glowers down at you as your nails scratch their way down the centre of his golden wings, the tips twitching as he tries to remain in control.
“Oh yeah, baby? That's how you want to do this?" His voice had deepened to the familiar gravelling husk that you loved so dearly, and you can do nothing but nod fervently, the sound going straight to your core. You knew exactly what you were doing toying with his wings, and he knew just as well as you what that meant. Adam takes in the sight before him; the heaving chest, the perfect slender column of your exposed throat, the exposed milky-white of your spread thighs, the wide glossy eyes just pleading for him to move. He breathes deeply at the way your skirt bunches around your waist, your whole body on show except from a pathetic soaking pair of underwear. "Fucking perfect."
A rough hand suddenly against your throat has you falling boneless against the armrest, eyes rolling as Adam’s fist tightens, his wings twitching upwards as your hands fall to noncommittally pry at his fingers around your neck.
"Hng, please-" You rasp, spreading your legs as far as the backrest of the loveseat would allow, hands clenching into the fabric of the sofa beneath you.
"You'll get fucked," Adam whispers harshly against your ear, free hand sliding your ruined pants down your thighs. "but not until I'm done with you."
"Adam-"
"It’s been a fucking shitty day," he begins, a singular finger sliding between your folds and gathering the wetness that had gathered. You whine, straining against his hold on your neck. "and the one thing that’s gotten me through it is knowing I get to come home to this perfect piece of ass." He grins, feeling your pussy clench at the tip of his finger. "So I’m taking my fucking time with you."
A singular finger finally enters your swollen, aching, core, mouth falling open in a silent moan at the contact, finally. The sounds that echo around the room are obscene, wet and thick as his fingers curl, digging against that sweet spot inside of you.
"You hear that, sweety?" Adam murmurs mockingly against your lips, the pet-name dripping with irony as he kisses down harshly, a kiss you could only hope to keep pace with, never mind reciprocate. "You fucking filthy girl." A second enters, easily, coated in your slick within seconds as he draws moans from your lungs. He leans back, watching you flush and gasp beneath his hands, fingers pulling non-comically at the fist he had around your neck. A third finger enters, and this time, he feels the stretch.
"God, Adam-" You squeal, hips raising from the loveseat as he continues, the sinful sounds only getting louder and louder. You moan with every thrust of his fingers, hands gripping at the material of your shirts beneath you. You groans at the fiery pain in your walls, but your eyes roll at the pleasure that had started to build.
"So fucking wet, and all it took was the thought of being with me. At least you know how lucky you are babe, fuck-" His grip tightens around your neck, a fourth finger entering, and you scream, or would have if you had the oxygen to. A pathetic choking wail comes from your throat, and you clench tighter around his digits, hips chasing his hand with every thrust.
"I'm- I'm going to-" You sob as he picks up his pace, the sounds omitting from you downright sinful. Your thighs shake as your body goes rigid, mouth falling open in a silent scream.
Adam doesn't stop, eyes trained on his wife's face as you come undone beneath his fingers, hips jerking wildly as he thrusts and curls inside of you. It is only when your eyes flutter and legs fall slack that he stops, pulling his hand out from between your thighs with a sickening pop, fluid coating his hand and your inner thighs.
You blink heavily, gasping for breath as you finally return to your surroundings, feeling devastatingly empty but more than satisfied. Adam barely gives you a moment before he’s kissing you deeply, teeth tugging at your swollen lips and a hand winding into your hair to tug your head exactly where he wanted you. He doesn’t break the kiss as he scoops you into his arms, your hands grasp at his neck and shoulders as he carries you towards the bedroom.
He throws you down roughly on the edge of the side of the bed, shucking off his robe, trousers and pants quickly, hard and weeping cock springing free, red and painful at the neglect, balls heavy and painfully sensitive. You wiggle out of your red skirt, kicking it onto the floor as Adam clambers over you, knees pressed against the mattress. He slides his hand along your inner thighs, which part without question, gathering the wetness that coated them. He pumps his cock lazily, once, twice, abs clenching as he breathes deeply.
"I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget that cunts name.” He mutters more to himself, and it takes you a moment to realise who he was talking about. Ah, he hadn’t taken your comment about Lucifer earlier well. He never did. You can’t help but feel excited, as exhausted as you already were, Adam always got so competitive after a comment like that, and you always left the situation just as smug and satisfied as Adam felt. “Hope you haven’t got any important shit tomorrow, babe,” He comments, leaning over you and shrouding your smaller form with his large body, grinning down at you with a wickedness better suited to hell than heaven. “because it’ll be a miracle if you can walk.”
"You’re talking an awful lot." You comment, but your panting doesn’t give it the mocking you were hoping for. His wings flatten when your comment registers, and the golden feathers bristle as you continue. “You’ve yet to actually fuck me, I wonder if Lu-“
Without warning he thrusts forward, groaning hotly against your throat as his wings raise. You whine at the stretch, and your hands quickly burrow back into his wings as he bullies his way into you, forcing himself down to the hilt and not allowing you time to adjust. “Don’t you fucking dare say his name.” He hisses against your throat, biting at the skin harshly. He draws back, tip resting just inside your opening, and then surges forward, burying himself to the hilt, setting a brutal, staggering pace. You whimper in pain and pleasure at the abrupt pace, but fall into it as he thrusts, legs winding around his hips and anchoring him in place.
Adam groans into your skin with every thrust, unabashed and unashamed, the wet warmth between your thighs melting away his worries. His fingers dig painfully into the divots of your hips.
"You're my girl, no one else’s, my fucking girl." He groans, balls slapping against your ass as he thrusts, seizing your thighs and pushing them up towards your chest, folding you in half and giving you no choice but to breath and take it. "Clearly I’ve not been doing my job if you’ve had time to think about him, don't worry baby, I'll fix that."
"Adam," You moan at the new angle, his cock hitting that special spot inside with every thrust, legs shaking with every thrust. "please, please, please, I don’t-"
"Fucking slut, begging for my cock." He punctuates his sentence with a particularly hard thrust that has you keening, back arching from the crumpled bedsheets.
Suddenly, without warning, he pulls out completely and your high dissipates violently as you gasp and shoot upright, trying to tug him back down by his wings. "No, no, please-"
Large rough hands grab at your body as you are flipped around, hands scrambling for purchase and legs like jelly as you’re repositioned, locks falling into your face as Adam thrusts back in, hands gripping your hips as he pounds.
"You wanna act like a slut?" He drills his cock into you from behind, large hand pushing at your tail bone to force your back to arch. You comply easily, and you’re rewarded with a fist grabbing at the globe of your ass and slamming you back towards him with painful force. "I'll fuck you like a slut."
A tender hand runs up the column of your spine and you shiver, gasping into a moan as he gathers your hair in one tight fist and yanks.
"Oh! Oh Adam-"
Every slap of your ass with his hips has your head lurching back with the grip he has on your hair, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he thrusts, the harsh sound of slapping skin filling the room.
"Adam, ‘s too much," Your moans cut your sentence short, fists gripping the bed sheets as he pounds relentlessly, scalp stinging and pussy aching at the unforgiving stretch. "Please, I can't-"
"You fucking can." He growls, releasing your hair and shoving your head forward with a hand at the back of your neck, leaning forward to place wet kisses at the centre of your spine as he thrusts down. "I’m not done with you, so you're gonna fucking take it."
You moan pathetically into the bed sheets, fingers curling into the fabric either side of your head as your pussy throbs, a familiar searing heat coiling in your abdomen and tingling along your spine.
"We’re not done until you get that you’re mine, my bitch, and no one else can give you this, understand?" His large hands anchor themselves at your waist as he thrusts impossibly harder, sweat beginning to bead down his chest and stomach. No doubt bruises would be left behind, the thought of your perfect flesh, your perfect ivory skin, marred by his fingerprints only drives him further, his balls beginning to tighten.
"I'm- I'm - wait!" Adam doesn't listen to his wife's pleas, supporting your shaking hips with his large hands as he fucks you into the mattress, grinning past his exertion at seeing your thighs begin to quiver.
Your cracked voice mewls into the bedsheets as your second orgasm builds, panting pathetically as you brace yourself, tears of pleasure beginning to stream down your cheeks.
"Good fucking girl." Adam groans, feeling his own orgasm build, cock twitching within your walls. "Does my bitch finally get it? Huh?” Your lack of response doesn’t please him, and one of his large hands slaps the globe of your ass painfully as he continues his brutal pace. ‘'you gonna take it?"
"Please!" You finally wail, pussy clenching at the sheer anger in his voice, and beneath all the brovado, the desperation to know he’s doing a good job. And by God he was doing a phenomenal job. "So fuckin’ good Adam. I’m yours- yours.” You choke into the mattress when you feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hips stuttering at the praise. “Don’t stop. Adam, please, please-"
You wail pathetically, second orgasm crashing over you as you convulses beneath Adam’s cock, toes curling, legs only propped up with his large hands as you cry. “So, f-fuck– good.”
"Fuck." Adam groans as his own orgasm hits, balls tightening as he thrusts again and again, jerking uncontrollably as he empties inside of you, pumping his hips desperately. You can feel the air around you shift as his wings twitch, flapping powerfully with the concentration he pours into his final few thrusts, impossibly deep and hard as his arms flex against your lax figure. "Ah." He grunts, thrusting once, twice, collapsing on top of his shaking wife, cock buried to the hilt. His sweaty forehead presses between your shoulder blades, breathing hotly against your damp skin as you breathes shakily beneath him, catching your own breath as the aftershocks of your orgasm course through you.
"Fuckin’ perfect." Adam mutters gruffly against your skin, kissing tenderly as he straightens, hands landing on the globe of your red ass, slowly pulling his cock from you with a hiss. He watches with dark eyes as his cum gathers at your entrance, pushing a small trickle back in with a slick finger, causing you to gasp in surprise.
Large hands, far gentler than they had been mere moments ago, grasp your waist and manoeuvre you around, laying your panting frame back onto the edge of the bed. Adam leans down to kiss you sweetly, rough hands grabbing a thigh each and pulling them up towards your chest as he leans, tongue slipping into your mouth and licking into your cavern as he repositions, a soft sigh falling from your lips and your hands dangling leisurely from his broad shoulders.
He pulls back from the kiss, and you watch him with hooded eyes, unaware of the position you had found herself in until a thick cock-head presses at your weeping entrance once again. You look up, still panting, and Adam cannot help but feel utterly devoted to the sight in front of him, cock twitching back to full capacity; your cheeks shining from the tears that had spilled, lips puckered and swollen and invitingly red from the way he had nipped at them, the smattering of bruises that decorated your neck and chest. You were truly a vision, not a holy one, but absolutely divine to him.
"Adam, wait - I can't." You whimper breathily, hips pulling away from his cock. Too sensitive, too raw. Despite your reservations, Adam can see the way you breathe in suspense, the way your fingers flex against the bedsheets in anticipation. Hell, you weren’t even trying to close your legs in his grasp. You really shouldn’t have mentioned Lucifer’s name if you didn’t want this. He was nowhere near done.
"No?" He questions sarcastically, hands still pinning your thighs to your chest, golden eyes staring deeply into your own. "Looks to me like you can still talk back, that won’t do babe." Hands still grasping your milky thighs, Adam leans down, grinning before pressing a soft kiss right against your clit. You jerk, a cry falling from your lips. "Come on, sugar, you’re really tapping out so soon?" He rubs his cock against your folds, his cum coating his own flared tip, and your pussy flutters around him; you hiss out a whine. "What a shitty husband I’d be if I left you wanting, and from the look of you, I know you’re not done." He rubs his cock against you again, balls gathering the cum that had dribbled from your opening. You look up at him fervently, and you can see the determination in his heated gaze, and oh how that look had your core tightening as he leant impossibly closer. "Is my wife really done? I think she can take one more, one more, for me."
You groan as he enters again, slowly, cock dragging against your slicked walls, and a squelch emitting from your conjoined bodies as he finally bottoms out again. Your legs twitch in his hold, and he grinds his hips, fighting the urge to thrust.
Your mouth hangs open silently, eyes fluttering at the stretch to your over-sensitive core. Your nails tear at his shoulders uselessly, trying to distract yourself from the all-consuming pleasure, and the delightful sting has Adam clenching his jaw as he tries to remain composed. You can hear the shuddering breath he takes as he fights his instincts, pulling back just as slowly as he had entered, until the weight of his cock presses just inside your opening, and then thrusts back in, setting a slow, steady, hard pace.
He recaptures your lips in a searing kiss, biting at your lip until you allow him to snake his way inside, sucking the little air from your lungs as he pants into you, brows furrowed in concentration as he fucks into you with his hips and licks into your mouth hungrily. This time, he allows your hands to dig into his wings from the start, his own hands remaining perched on your thighs and pinning you down to take his harsh thrusts. He grunts when your fingertips delve back into the ruffled feathers, stretching them out beneath your touch and covering your body possessively beneath his larger frame.
"S-Shit babe.” He groans between thrusts, pace increasing silently. You can do nothing but moan pathetically, pussy aching and throbbing as your fingers dig deeper into his wings, and his shoulders tense at the intense pleasure that sparks all along his spine. "Fucking careful.” He tries to battle back his control that had begun to slip, and decides insulting you would mask the way your simplest of touches nearly had him finishing then and there. “F-fucking whore."
You simply groan, eyes rolled into the back of your head and hands blinding searching for purchase as that tight coil begins to wind in your abdomen, hips beginning to shift against his quickening thrusts. Your voice pitches and cracks as he pummels that special spot inside of you, and your hands clench into fists in his wings. "Oh God- Adam, right there, fuck – so fucking good."
“I know baby, I’m fucking good, I know.” He grits through clenched teeth, ever the egoist. Despite his parroting of the compliments as if they were simple facts, the compliments go straight to his head and his cock, and something in his chest tightens at the way you continue to babble his praises.
A particularly hard thrust has you gasping. "Adam, you’re so- so-" You couldn’t finish the sentence, but he got the message, and nearly cums with his next thrust, biting into your collarbone to distract himself from the praise.
Adam groans, balls already beginning to tighten. He yanks you closer as you continue to beg, forcing you in half as he pounds into you, cum spilling from around his cock as he thrusts again and again, your thighs slick with it.
"Adam, please." You pant, all air forced from your lungs as he drills into you over and over again, pussy struggling as Adam’s cum is forced from inside you to make room for his cock. "I'm all yours."
"Fuck, baby." He groans, balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. He releases your right thigh, free thumb pressing into your swollen clit and rubbing hard. "Cum for me, I know you've got one more. One more and I'll fucking fill you, one more."
You shriek at the pressure on your clit, head thrown back as your legs shake. Chanting 'yes, yes, Adam, fuck.' between wails.
"You can take it, 'fuckin' take it."
He swallows your scream with a kiss when you finally tip over the edge, your hips shaking against his own as your stomach erupts in a fiery jolt of pleasure that travels from the tips of your toes to your fingertips, back arching from the bedsheets. Adam swears against your lips, nails almost breaking the skin of your thighs as he cums, shoulders and wings tense as he humps tightly, burying himself to the hilt and pressing as much of his weight onto you as he could.
"Fuck, there you go." He groans, thrusting lazily, pressing you into the bedsheets, all of his weight forced onto your hips. "There you go."
You moan pitifully as his cock fully burrows itself to its hilt, both hands coming up to cradle the back of Adam’s head and shoulders as he allows his full weight to rest on top of you, face pressed against the crook of your neck, soft lips gently mouthing against a blossoming hickey, hips finally ceasing their aborted thrusts. You wrap your legs loosely around his hips as his hands curl beneath you, resting flat against your spine and securing you in his embrace. You sigh at the new angle, finally able to breath fully, and relaxes into the sticky sheets below, allowing Adam to lick at the bruises covering your neck and chest.
"You okay, baby?" Adam mutters softly, voice still unusually deep and gravelly as he comes down from his high, warm palms sliding against your sticky skin in some semblance of comfort, blunt nails scratching a light comforting pattern against your skin. He lifts himself up lightly, still burrowed within, sweaty brunet locks falling across his face and tickling your forehead.
"Never better." You grin, exhausted and blissed-out, a familiar ache beginning to settle deep within, but uncaring for the discomfort after seeing the poorly-masked worried devotion in your husband's eyes. "You’re amazing, you know."
"I know.” He hums cockily, and you swat at his arm playfully as he grins. “I supposed you aren’t half bad, too.”
Your head tilts in mock-offence, but the exhaustion and complete and utter satisfaction cloaking your eyes has you looking seconds away from passing out, and he chuckles at the sight. He studies you for a moment, mapping the flush to your cheeks and chest, the fraying of your elegant hairdo, the wet streams on your cheeks and the puffiness of your lips. His eyes travel lower, following a stream of bruises that caress your ivory skin all the way down to where your bodies conjoin. His eyes flicker back up and he grins cheekily, unapologetic and somewhat proud.
With a comforting pat to your thighs, Adam leans down for a far more tender kiss, grunting against you as he removes himself from you, dick falling free as he clambers up the bed and carefully tugs your spent body along with him, nestling you tightly into his side as his wings drape off both edges of the bed. He grunts, tugging you further onto his chest, and you giggle as you swing your arms around his chest and neck, cheek pressed against his shoulder and his own pressed against the top of your head, strong arms encircling your waist and pinning you close.
“I should rant to you more about my shitty days if you’re willing to cheer me up like this.” He grumbles to himself, eyes closed as he breathes deeply, and you feel the rumble of his chest beneath you. “I can feel you looking at me. Shut your mouth and enjoy the moment unless you want to piss me off again.”
“I didn’t even piss you off in the first place,“ You defend, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “but if you fuck me like that when you’re angry I’ll have to get you angry more often.”
“You want to go again?” Adam questions deftly, the exhausted surprise yet underlying giddiness in his voice almost making you laugh, if not for the fact that you were utterly and completely spent.
“No, no, I’m more than happy. I was going to say we should shower.”
He ‘humphs’ like a child, heavy arms not moving as you try to wriggle away from his grasp to begin running the shower. “What’s the rush? Give me ten minutes.”
“We’re disgusting.”
“Five minutes.” He mutters, rightening his hold on your waist. “You never know, in those five minutes you might want to go again, and then we’d save having to wash ourselves again, save the water bill and all that shit, y’know?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“You married me.” He backhands childishly, pulling you in closer to his chest. “So that we can be disgusting together. Now shush and stop talking, I was enjoying the moment.”
#I had to edit some of this one shot to make it MORE ACCEPTABLE#im sick I tell you#sick sick woman#im definitely not getting into heaven after writing this#Hazbin Hotel#Hazbin Hotel adam#Hazbin Hotel Adam x reader#Hazbin Hotel Adam smut#Hazbin Hotel Adam x reader smut#Adam smut#Adam x reader#Adam x reader smut#smut#Hazbin Hotel lucifer#lucifer#Hazbin Hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel Adam x reader#adam hazbin hotel#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel#hazbin
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