#but that doesn’t make it feel any better

[cherry-leclerc]

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment. 

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone. 

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true. 

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers. 

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma. 

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second. 

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver. 

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice. 

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.” 

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger. 

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was.  He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?” 

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

-

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom. 

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water. 

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it��but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy. 

He’s a man.

“What do you say?” 

“Sorry?” 

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

-

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.” 

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents were complete traitors. 

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance. 

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away. 

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, she definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

-

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy. 

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance. “Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated. 

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.” 

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled. 

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.” 

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

-

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof. 

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of. 

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there. 

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours. 

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola. 

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts. 

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose. 

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped. 

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog. 

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret. 

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

-

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening. 

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes. 

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?” 

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice. 

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress. 

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound. 

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders. 

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back. 

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

-

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much. 

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable. 

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer. 

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND. 

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you. 

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

-

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.” 

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.” 

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally. 

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least. 

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct. 

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him. 

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough. 

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band. 

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing. 

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” 

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano. 

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips. 

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry. 

“Breath, darling, breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big.  “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once. 

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds. 

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure. 

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours. 

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle. 

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness. 

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end. 

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow. 

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual. 

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.” 

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?” 

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 smut #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula one #op81 x reader #mclaren racing

[her-favorite]

QUIET; M. STURNIOLO

MATT STURNIOLO X F!READER

warnings: this is honestly my second time writing head-cannon thingies (and ive literally been writing since like 2020 😭) so i apologize if they’re not too good!

a/n: there’s a bunch of talkative!reader fics on here, so i thought i’d be a little self-indulgent and write something for the quiet matt girls 🫶🏻

SYNOPSIS: Matt with a quiet girlfriend <3

-

Matt Finds Comfort in Your Silence

- being out in public together, it was easy to get overwhelmed by groups of people. Matt tends to reach out for you and grabs your hand, for both of your benefits. Keeping you by him made both of you more comfortable, as you’re closer to each other and can stay by the other.

- Staying with you when you go quiet is comforting to Matt. He doesn’t grow overwhelmed by any loud noises or unnecessary sounds, his once tense body relaxing in the safe silence.

Speaking Through Silence is Easier

- whenever you get anxious, it’s easier to keep your mouth shut as to not draw attention to yourself. That being said, Matt always has an eye on you no matter the occasion. Being your boyfriend, he’s grown accustomed to your body language, noticing the way you fidget and when you get too overwhelmed by something. Some times communicating with each other through silence is easier, especially in public. As soon as Matt notices your anxiety rising, he’ll take your hand, say something quick to his brothers and bring you to an isolated area with him.

Matt Loves Knowing You’re Listening to Him

- if Matt ever goes on a random tangent, he loves that he doesn’t have to repeat himself several times just to get your attention. No disrespect to his brothers, but Matt enjoys not having to be loud to get you to listen. Listening comes naturally to you, given your more reserved nature, and it makes Matt feel appreciated knowing that you’ll always be there to listen and make him feel better when he’s anxious.

Being Alone with You Feels Safe

- lying in his room together, he loves the feeling of you with him. With the sounds of his ceiling fan and, maybe, his tv playing, he adores the physical intimacy of the situation, of you lying on him and relaxing. Occasional words are exchanged, but Matt likes to keep his voice down, just so he doesn’t bother you. In that moment, he feels like he could do anything or say anything and you’d still stay by him; the safeness he feels with you is comforting.

He Loves Having you Close to Him

- not being too chatty, it’s easier to physically gravitate towards Matt. He handles you with open arms, never turning down the opportunity to hold you. The feeling of you in his arms, whether you’re watching a show on their couch or in his bed, his body immediately relaxes with your touch. Matt could be having an extremely overwhelming day, but as soon as he comes home and sees you, all he needs to calm down is to be in your arms.

He Doesn’t Feel Pressured

- being similar in a verbal way, Matt never feels forced to talk when he’s around you. He knows that if he doesn’t feel like talking, he doesn’t have to; you taught him that it was okay. Hanging out with you was comfortable, a nice quiet that wasn’t awkward or bad, but one you both peacefully sunk into.

Matt Loves Hearing More About You

- being reserved, it took a little bit to get you to reveal more about yourself to Matt. He was patient with you, waiting for the right time you felt comfortable and paying attention to every word you say. Being a patient person, especially with you, he wasn’t bothered by the private things you kept to yourself in the beginning of your relationship. He understood the way you felt and let you take all the time you needed, enjoying hearing all the stories you revealed to him once you felt comfortable.

He Loves Your Relationship with his Brothers

- given, Nick and Chris are loud, talkative people, almost the entire opposite of you. But you loved them all the same. With their blathering nature, you find comfort in it, silently knowing that you don’t have to put on some performance because they somehow always have something to talk about.

- even with Chris’ periodic teasing, you’ve grown used to their random sentences, learning to love them more as days go by. Matt’s brothers liked the idea of him dating someone that was near the same page as him, whether you were closer or farther away from his situation, because he won’t feel alone in his problems and the way he feels. Besides, Nick loves gossiping about random guys to you and Chris loves making you listen to whatever new music he finds because they know you love listening to their random shit.

But He Also Loves Listening to you Ramble

- on days where you have more energy and feel your best, it’s easy to say whatever will come to your mind. And Matt loves it. Whenever those days do come, constant giggles are heard from your boyfriend as he enjoys the stupid things that leave your mouth.

No Matter the Day, loud or quiet, lazy or energetic, Matt loves you all the same.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you

[somerandomdudelmao]

Ok, so, some marble sky thoughts? Character analysis? Whatever this is! 

I think the only reason that both Oscar and Ward are still alive is because Oscar was left to his own devices with the marmors. 

There are several contributing factors to this thought, but I think it boils down to two main factors: friendliness (towards the marmors), and morality.

First point: as far as i can tell, Oscar genuinely cares about Ecliptica to some extent. My example is when he clubbed that teegardian–the look on his face, and how fast he reacted, suggest that he reacted on gut instinct because Ecliptica was in danger, not that he had a cunning plan to make himself look better. As well as the fact that he genuinely seems to enjoy being around her, and voluntarily spends time with her–I think that this has convinced (some) of the marmors that Oscar is trustworthy, or at the very least not a threat.

On the other hand, Ward has shown that so far at least, he does not like or trust any of the marmors. Now I certainly can’t blame him for that, but it doesn’t do much towards gaining him any favor in the marmor’s eyes (or, sensor things).

My next point is that Ward seems to have a very strong moral code, and acts according to that code regardless of consequences, which restricts him in a way that Oscar doesn’t seem to be restricted. With the teegardian situation, I think Ward would either have straight up refused to be a hunting dog, or tried to help the teegardians, resulting in getting himself killed. 

On the other hand, Oscar, by playing along with the marmors and siding against the teegardians, managed to get into good enough graces with Ecliptica to be able to help Ward (and Holly). Now, I don't think Oscar lacks a moral code, or is trying to be evil or anything–I think he is doing everything he can to protect the people he cares about, and to stay alive. So far, he’s been pretty darn effective too. I also can’t blame him for prioritizing his life, and the life of his friend, over those of complete strangers, especially in such a morally gray area of how intelligent of a species is it ok to eat, and how to define intelligence at all. 

Oscar seems to be doing whatever he feels he needs to in order to keep himself and the people he cares about alive, regardless of “right” and “wrong”. 

Ward also seems to want to keep them both alive, but in contrast he is very attached to his idea of morality, defending what he believes to be right, and fighting against what he believes is wrong.

Because of this, I think Ward and Oscar would have (and probably will in the future) come into conflict because of their different ways of doing things, potentially really messing up each other’s various plans and ideas, in ways that are not conducive towards staying alive and/or friends. 

Also, unrelated theory, Ward is absolutely about to polymorph into an alien cyborg bc of whatever it was that Sculptor did to him

OH THIS

THIS IS SOME REALLY INTERESTING THOUGHTS RIGHT HERE >:D

#marble sky ask

[verstappensrealwife]

Perks of The Job - Max Verstappen x Assistant!Reader

Fluff

approx. 1300 words

warnings: kissing! a slightly different writing approach! Not proof read- when is it ever?!

max verstappen masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

"First task...!" Max begins, but you quickly pick up the phone, assuming your role as his assistant. "Hello, Max Verstappen’s Assistant speaking—oh, what did you say your name was again?" you inquire, trying to catch the caller's name as Max urgently tries to signal you with frantic gestures.

"Charlotte Pendlebury," comes the response from the other end of the line.

Max's reaction intensifies, his gestures becoming more urgent as he tries to silently communicate something to you.

"I... Um, no, he’s not here at the moment. Can I take a message?" you respond, attempting to keep the conversation professional despite Max's silent panic.

Finally, as you finish jotting down the message on a nearby post-it note, Max settles into the chair opposite you with a relieved sigh.

“So… You ghosted her after you... um, had relations with her,” you remark, trying to make light of the situation.

"Okay, new clause in your contract: don't judge me," Max quips with a playful grin. "Just make sure she doesn’t find me."

-

Months pass, and on one alcohol-fueled evening, you find yourself drunkenly texting your ex—or at least, who you thought was your ex…

When your boss unexpectedly shows up, in your inebriated state, you can barely distinguish between him and your ex. Following him clumsily through the bar and outside to his car, you boldly suggest a rather inappropriate proposition to do while he drove, only to be met with a surprised yet amused refusal.

As you stumble into Max's apartment, your mind still foggy from the alcohol, you're taken aback by the cleanliness of the space. "You moved?" you blurt out, surprised by the tidiness of the bachelor pad.

Max turns to you, a bemused expression on his face. "Y/N, look at me and tell me my name," he says, his tone gentle but firm.

Your thoughts muddled, you start to respond automatically. "Ma– Oh! Max- Mr. Verstappen- I- Am so sorry," you stutter, finally realizing your mistake.

Max chuckles softly, his amusement evident as he guides you further into the apartment.

Feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, you mumble your thanks as you sink into the cushions. Max disappears briefly, returning with a glass of water and a concerned look.

"Here, drink this. You'll feel better in no time," he says, handing you the glass.

Taking a few sips, you feel a bit more coherent, though still mortified by your earlier behavior. "I'm really sorry about earlier. I don't know what came over me," you apologize, feeling the weight of your actions.

Max waves off your apology with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it, Y/N. We've all had our moments. Just focus on feeling better now," he reassures you, his kindness washing away some of your embarrassment.

Grateful for his understanding, you nod, silently vowing to be more careful with your alcohol intake in the future. With Max's support, you start to relax, the tension of the evening slowly dissipating as you settle into a comfortable silence together.

Feeling surprisingly refreshed considering the events of the previous night, you cautiously explore Max's apartment, your mild headache a small reminder of your intoxicated antics. As you rummage through his cupboards, searching for something to alleviate your thirst, Max's voice startles you from behind.

"You're awake!" he exclaims, catching you in the act of snooping through his belongings. His tone is light, lacking any hint of reproach.

Caught red-handed, you quickly straighten up, turning to face him with a sheepish grin. "Uh, yeah, just... looking for a mug," you mumble, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep into your cheeks. Max chuckles at your flustered state, gesturing towards the cupboard. "The mugs are on the right," he offers, his amusement evident.

You nod gratefully, relieved to have a legitimate reason for your nosiness. Retrieving a mug, you fill it with water from the tap, taking a long sip as you try to compose yourself.

"Thanks," you murmur, feeling a bit more at ease in Max's presence.

He smiles warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No problem. Help yourself to anything you need," he says, gesturing around the apartment.

Feeling a sense of gratitude for his hospitality, you nod appreciatively. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Max's easygoing demeanor puts you at ease, allowing you to relax into the unexpected morning after.

As the morning progresses, you and Max find yourselves drawn into each other's company, the tension from the previous night giving way to a newfound sense of closeness. You chat effortlessly, sharing stories and laughter as the hours slip by unnoticed.

At some point, you realize how comfortable you feel in Max's presence, the awkwardness of your earlier interactions fading into the background. His easy smile and genuine interest in your conversation put you at ease, igniting a spark of attraction that you hadn't anticipated.

As you sit together on the couch, the air between you charged with a palpable energy, you feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. With each passing moment, the distance between you seems to shrink, until you're practically pressed against each other, the heat of his body warming your skin.

Caught in the moment, you find yourself drawn to him, your heart racing with anticipation. And then, as if guided by an invisible force, your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that has been brewing between you since the moment you met.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation, the world around you fading into insignificance. In that fleeting moment, there's only you and Max, bound together by a shared desire that transcends words.

When you finally pull away, breathless and exhilarated, you meet his gaze, finding a mixture of surprise and longing mirrored in his eyes.

"I'm sorry!" you blurt out, feeling a surge of panic and embarrassment flood through you. "That was stupid—unprofessional—I—I should go," you stammer, scrambling to your feet and making a hasty move to leave.

But before you can make your escape, Max is quick to catch you by the wrist, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Did you not like it?" he asks, his voice soft but laced with uncertainty.

Your heart races as you meet his gaze, torn between the desire to stay and the fear of crossing a professional boundary. "It's definitely not that!" you insist, your words rushing out in a frantic tumble. "The kiss was—I mean—great but—"

"Then why can't I do it again, and again, and for the foreseeable?" Max interrupts, his tone earnest and determined.

You're taken aback by his boldness, the intensity of his gaze leaving you momentarily speechless. But deep down, you know that you can't deny the pull you feel towards him, the undeniable chemistry that crackles between you.

Slowly, hesitantly, you allow yourself to lean in, closing the distance between you until your lips meet once more in a tender, passionate kiss. In that moment, all doubts and reservations melt away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a whirlwind of emotion and desire.

And as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, you realize that sometimes, the most unexpected connections are also the most powerful—and that perhaps, this kiss is just the beginning of something extraordinary between you and Max.

El fin.

ITS SHORT I KNOW SUE ME IT WAS LAST MINUTE AND ITS 00:12

#max verstappen #max #verstappen #mv1 #mv33 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc #lando norris #mv33 x reader #mv33 imagine #mv33 fic #mv33 x you #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 x reader #male form #formula 1 imagine #formula one #red bull f1 #red bull racing #red bull team #red bull formula 1

[babygorewhore]

Make you Mine

The first time Rafe is in your room, he discovers something he didn’t expect hidden away in your drawer.

This is part of Dolly and Morgan’s writing prompt game. It’s also based on a request by @gri959 and I was inspired by a conversation with @drudyslut I hope you all enjoy! This is 1k something! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Warnings! Knife play! Carving! Daddy kink! Spitting! Fingering! Unprotected sex! Degrading! Minimal blood! Breeding kink! Spanking!

“Cute room, baby.” Rafe smiles as he picks up one of your childhood stuffed animals and flips it around. You quickly snatch up the bear and set her down on your bed.

“Careful with her. I’ve had her since I was a baby.” You cross your arms and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt her, baby girl. But I think im a little too tall for your bed.” He chuckles and you reach over, lightly pushing him down to sit on the mattress.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get another cup of coffee and no I’m not getting water. It’s boring.” You quickly step away to avoid Rafe smacking your ass in protest and exit the room. He sighs and glances around.

Letting curiosity get the better of him, Rafe stands and starts opening your drawers inside your dresser. He tilts his head as he takes in your clothes, socks then he raises his eyebrow when he finds your underwear drawer. But he notices a box underneath all the material. He moves aside the panties and bras, opening the lid.

He sees a collection of toys, rope and a medium sized blade. A slow, wicked smirk curls his lip and he doesn’t bother hiding his discovery when he hears you gasp behind him.

“Rafe I leave you alone for a few minutes and you’re rummaging through my shit!” You smack his shoulder, turning him around as he holds the box.

“Yeah, and?” He laughs. “Don’t try and avoid the subject. You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you? You want me to use these on you. Make you feel better than whatever the fuck his name was. I can do that for you, sweet girl.” You bite your lip, swallowing away any sort of nerves before you pull him down in a fierce kiss.

He groans against your mouth as you tug his lower lip with your teeth before sucking it and standing as tall as you can. Rafe backs you against the bed, setting the box down as he grips your waist, tossing you on the bed. You barely have time to register what happened when he climbs on you, holding onto the knife. “You want this? You want me to hold it against your pretty skin?”

“Mhm, please, Rafe. I need you, need you to make me cum.” You whine and arch your back, feeling his hard body press against yours. Rafe’s blue eyes roam your body, his other hand squeezing the curve of your hip.

“Fuck, baby that’s it. Beg for it. You can use your words better. You’re a good girl, right?” He mocks and you nod, eyelash fluttering as you feel his fingers pull your panties to the side. Exposing your wet cunt as it glistens underneath him, he gives it a slap. “Beg.”

“Please, daddy. Please use the knife on me. Please, no one can make me feel as good as you. No one else, please fuck me. Please, I promise I’ll be good. I’ll be so good-“ That was all he needed as he smashes his lips to yours, you feel the knife press against your throat. You inhale sharply, eyes widening as his lips trail to your jaw. He nips your skin as he presses the blade a little harder.

Rafe’s fingers move to slide effortlessly in your pussy, curling them deeply inside you, hitting a spot you could never get with your own hand. You moan and your eyes roll back as he moves the knife down your chest, gently pressing the tip against your exposed tit. “Hmm…should I? You’ve been a good girl, but I don’t know. I think you can give me more of those pretty little whimpers.”

Rafe moves his fingers to your clit, rubbing circles and more gasps escape your throat. “That’s it,” he praises. “That’s my little slut.” Rafe grabs you by the hair, his slick fingers digging in the strands and he flips you over. Your ass in the air as he positions himself behind you.

You feel him trace the knife on your ass before you inhale sharply before a loud, throaty moan escapes you as you feel something sting against your plump flesh.

You feel him carve the letter R and then C. Blood slowly pools from your skin and you almost scream when you feel him lick it off before spitting on your cunt. “Making you my own little pornstar. Gonna look at it when I’m away from you.” He growls before you hear him unbuckle his belt, moving his hand to hold the blade against your throat as he gives your ass a spank, making you actually cry out this time.

“Gonna pound this perfect fuckin pussy, Angel. Fill you with my cum.” His free hand pins your hands on your back from behind as he rocks his hips into you, slamming his cock deep in your soaked pussy.

You hear it squelch as he builds his speed and rhythms as you grind against him. Your ass bouncing as he holds the blade against your throat. Just when you thought it couldn’t feel any better, your cunt clenched tight around his dick, you hear vibration before he slams the wand against your clit. Making you scream, “ah, fuck!”

He lets go of the knife, his hand buries in your hair as he pushes your head down on the pillow, fucking you hard and deep as the headboard slams against the wall. “Fucking scream, you fucking whore. Sucking me in like that just from a knife? Should have found it sooner.” He mumbles and groans as you roll your hips harder.

“Cum in me,” You whimper, muffled against the pillow. “Cum in me, baby. Want you to breed me.” You plead.

“Fucking hell, how can I say no to my good little bunny?” He stutters before you feel him slam into you even harder, pushing you over the edge as you whine and yell out.

Rafe’s cum pools inside you, spilling out of your cunt as he still pounds you. Fucking you through it and you relax around his cock. “Such a pretty fucking pussy, baby girl. Sooo fuckin pretty with my cum leaking out, nothin like it.”

He pulls out, maneuvering you so you’re on your back. He gathers your cum on his fingers before he sucks them, his eyes rolling back and he flicks on the wand again. “Didn’t think I was just gonna make you cum once, baby. No, I’m gonna make you fuckin squirt.”

Tagging some @marchsfreakshow @drewstarkeyslut @redhead1180 @slvt4jamesmarch @rafescurtainbangz @rafesthroatbaby @oceandriveab @theoraekenslover @voyeurmunson @starkeysprincess

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x smut #rafe cameron x kook!reader #drew starkey #drew Starkey smut #outerbanks #outer banks smut #obx #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #Rafe Cameron imagine #rafe #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic

[gayhoediaz]

of backshots and blunders

3.2k || E

“Fuuuuck.” The thick, long moan pours out of Buck’s throat as Tommy slowly sinks inside of him, stretching him out on his thick, long, perfect cock.  It’s only the third time, but Buck is already completely and utterly fucking addicted. It’s as if he ceases to be human every time that he gets to have this - it’s just him, and Tommy, and a hot, roaring fire inside of him, craving more - nothing else matters.  “Feel good, baby?” Tommy asks from behind him, his large, warm, callused palm caressing its way up his spine until it finally reaches his hair, massaging his scalp as he gives a slight grind, a sharp bolt of pleasure zipping up Buck’s spine as he pushes up against his prostate.  It’s the first time they’re doing it this way - the first two times, Tommy insisted on having him on his back so he could check for any discomfort - and Buck certainly wasn’t about to complain about looking his hot pilot boyfriend in the eyes as he took him apart - but now they both know that Buck can handle it - beautifully, according to Tommy, which makes Buck feel all kinds of things - so for the first time, he’s on all fours, Tommy’s other hand keeping a firm, steady grip on his hip - and fuck, Buck thinks that this angle might be even better.  “Fuck, yes,” he nearly laughs, rolling his hips back, pressing his ass into Tommy’s pelvis as he flexes his muscles, squeezing him tightly, using his insides to massage his beautiful cock. “Feel so good, Tommy,” he praises - and then, because he’s craving what he knows Tommy will grant him in response; “How do I look?” he asks, giving another roll of his hips, deliberately arching his back.  “God, Evan,” Tommy sighs at that, the hand in his hair growing slightly rougher as he continues massaging his scalp, Buck practically purring like a cat, chasing the attention as he feels his other hand drift away from his hip, and down to his ass, gently pulling his cheek to the side. “Like my own personal porn star, fuck, kid, I can’t believe I get to have you in my bed,” he grunts, as he slowly pulls himself out - and then rolls back in, both of them grunting in unison, Buck’s sound trailing off into a whine. “So beautiful stretched out on my cock,” he adds on the second thrust - still keeping things somewhat slow as Buck feels his thumb drift down to his rim, pressing down lightly. Buck mewls. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he says. “Always so good for me, that’s all you ever want, huh?”  “Yes,” Buck huffs, nodding sharply as he rocks his hips, enthusiastically meeting Tommy’s steady thrusts. “Can you pull my hair?”  Most of their exploring has been fairly plain so far - which is not to say that it hasn’t been fucking fantastic - but they have both been a little bit more focused on Buck learning how to not choke on Tommy’s cock rather than whether or not they like having their hair pulled.  This morning feels different, though - it feels as if they’re finally settling into each other, growing more comfortable.  “Like this?” Tommy asks, immediately getting with the program, hand tightening into a fist, craning Buck’s neck just a little bit backwards.  “More,” Buck pants, and then he swipes his tongue out of his mouth to wet his lips, but he doesn’t quite end up putting it back, instead he leaves it resting out over his bottom lip, eyes closed as he lets himself be controlled by the pleasure coursing through his veins.  “Oh, more, huh?” Tommy pants, amusement painting his tone as his hand grows tighter once again, the pins and needles sensation tingling all over Buck’s scalp, just on the right side of pain as his neck is twisted even further back.  “Yes, fuck, that’s it,” he praises, allowing his hips to grow even more enthusiastic as he slams them back into Tommy’s body, the thud thud thud soon echoing beautifully around the mezzanine. 

continue reading on ao3

#bucktommy #911 abc #fanfiction #buck x tommy #brewrosemilk #niesfics #writing tag

[sixosix]

KING OF MY HEART, BODY AND SOUL | LYNEY

notes 2k words, does contain arlecchino quest spoilers but it’s nothing too big, mom and dad are fighting (i could be talking about any of them)

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Rosalie eyes the flower warily. “What am I supposed to do with that? My hands are—” The terrifying stranger pitches the flower to her lap, a clear rebuttal, “—tied… Okay.”

She wishes she could kick it off, yet her legs were also tied. Defeated, she accepts the offering but doesn’t say a word about it. Gratitude is far from what Rosalie is feeling at the moment. Ingratitude, fear, confusion. Those describe it better.

For better or for worse, Rosalie scrambles to take hold of the conversation, if only to show these people that she wouldn’t show her ingratitude, fear, and confusion. The flower jostles with her rough movements. “You’re—Fatui, aren’t you? I believe all of you owe me more than just a talk. What do you want with my child?” 

“Hey, lady,” the woman with the purple hood once again growls, “don’t talk to The Knave like that!”

The Knave. That sounds so familiar. Rosalie thinks deeply, wondering where she had heard it from in passing.

“It’s alright. She’s distressed,” The Knave addresses her subordinates, but she’s looking right at Rosalie. “You may refer to me as The Knave. Arlecchino, fourth of the eleven Fatui Harbingers.”

Harbingers. Out of the eleven, she managed to rope herself into the fourth one. Rosalie turns just a little bit pale. A Harbinger had been inside her shop without her knowing. If you had come home earlier, what would The Knave have done? Rosalie doesn’t know if this situation is any better, either.

“And, just so you know, before she was yours, she was my child first,” The Knave muses.

Oh. Right. Previous Fatuus and The Knave is a Harbinger—that makes sense.

“But—she’s not even involved with any of you anymore, right?” Rosalie asks weakly, her stomach taut with apprehension. “Why are you doing this? Where is she right now?”

The Knave appraises Rosalie for a good minute, as if her sorry state would make the choice for her. “I gave Y/N plenty of freedom. If I didn’t, you never would’ve even met her.”

Rosalie bristles. “What, I have to be grateful?”

The Knave huffs out a small laugh. “That would be narcissistic of me. Of course not. But you shouldn’t be hostile. If I meant to harm Y/N, I would’ve done so already.”

“Did you let her go on purpose?” Rosalie asks. She’s getting agitated by the power this woman is clearly showing off.

“I suppose you could say that,” The Knave wonders. “But I just had no worries. I’m more familiar with her than you think. I knew that she wouldn’t have gone too far. I knew this would happen eventually.”

Rosalie is confused. What is this? Was this one of those monologues that the bad guys jump into to reveal their master plan—like, in the musical plays?

“Of course, no one could have foreseen the Traveler's appearance.” The Knave taps a clawed finger on her chin thoughtfully. “That also made it much more complicated than it was supposed to be.”

Traveler. Where has Rosalie heard that before? “The Traveler… The Outlander? Aether?”

“Correct. Aether, as some of you prefer to address him. Had it not been for his interference, perhaps this wouldn't have turned out differently—he is an unexpected factor. Though, you, Miss Rosalie, you’re also one.”

Rosalie is still very much confused. But she sits still, obedient, wondering where this might go. The villains would reveal some flaw in their master plan somewhere.

“Or perhaps I would’ve left all of you alone had it not been for Lyney’s disobedience.” Wait, Lyney? “I will not have any distractions to the children occupied with their missions. He has already failed.”

“Y/N has been by my side almost every day. How would she have managed to sabotage a Fatui operation?” Rosalie asks.

“Showing up to Lyney’s show was enough of a distraction. I must admit, even I didn’t expect her to appear that soon. It must be The Traveler.”

“Wait, it was truly Mr. Lyney?!” Rosalie wasn’t even aware that Aether had been more than he let on, much less Mr. Lyney being Fatui.

Oh. Oh! Rosalie remembers now. The day she first saw Aether and Paimon was the day they went to watch Mr. Lyney’s magic show. Since then, you have begun acting strange, and Aether started to linger more often, but Rosalie hasn’t given it much thought. She simply chalked it up to you making friends—definitely not messing up a Fatui operation.

“Are you following, Miss Rosalie? Lyney has failed, and Y/N has disrupted our mission. You see, children in the House who go against our rules receive punishment.”

Rosalie doesn’t like where this is going. She knows the answer already: “What is the punishment?”

“Their lives.”

Rosalie winces. Fatui don’t play around.

“But Y/N isn’t part of the House anymore…?”

“Her memories are no different than one of a child currently in the House.”

At her stunned silence, The Knave seems to take pity. “I have a child that’s concocted a potion to make them kill a part of themselves that was involved with the Fatui.”

Kill a part of themselves?

Rosalie’s brain lags for a second. “Are—are you saying no one’s dyi—”

“If Y/N has no secrets to spill, then there is no reason to punish her. She can enjoy a life that never involves the Fatui in the first place. However, you became a factor. It would’ve been difficult for me to make her forget everything when you were there. If I make her forget her life in the House, she will forget you too, as everything that led up to meeting you involved the House. And that would make things a lot more complicated than necessary on your part.”

Is… she saying that she considered Rosalie’s feelings?

“Now, I am here to allow you to decide. You could also choose to forget her.” The Knave perches a hand on her hip. “You’re her mother now, are you not?”

“Why didn’t you ask Y/N first?”

“Would her answer dictate your decision?”

“Of course.”

“Even if she chose to forget you?”

Rosalie’s mouth parts for an answer. She wishes it was quicker than The Knave’s question that Rosalie feared more than anything, but instead, she finds herself uncertain. “…If that’s what she desires. I have no right to tie her by my side.”

“Hm. Quite an answer.” The Knave looks at Rosalie with what feels like a smile. It certainly doesn’t appear as one—neither side of her lips quirked, but her eyes felt lighter. “But do not worry. It’s why you’re here. Y/N would be asked, eventually.”

Ah. So Rosalie is just bait.

She wants to feel angry at the woman in front of her, but to her horror, she is instead understanding her. Like she could read what The Knave has been concealing behind each word—what the diplomat truly wants to say.

Rosalie hesitates, looking up at The Knave through her lashes. Her crimson eyes are terrifying, and having been tied up to a chair while the fourth of the Fatui Harbingers is standing is just as unsettling—Rosalie hasn’t relaxed an inch throughout the entire conversation.

“You still think of her as your child, don’t you?” Rosalie asks Arlecchino.

Arlecchino, fourth of the Harbingers, director and ‘Father’ of the House, turns away. “Attachments to traitors are only a hindrance in the House.”

It is not a clear answer, but doesn’t that make it clearer?

Rosalie takes a deep breath. She takes one long look at the flower on her lap, thinking back to when you first held one from her shop, froze it, looked at her with the roundest, fearful eyes, and knew that her answer was clear, too.

Thunder roared as the sun dipped behind the rolling hills of Fontaine. It struck badly and poured even worse. Each second passing without Rosalie in your sight, without knowing what could’ve happened to her, itched your rage and despair more and more. The more you worry, the more your temper rises.

You were arguing with Aether as to whether or not you should get the freaking Iudex involved—you vehemently refused, while Aether asserted that it was for Rosalie’s safety as well—when you spotted two familiar figures from afar.

Lynette is leading Lyney inside the shop, side by side. Your ire grows exponentially at the sight of them, hackles rising in a snap. How dare they. How dare they have the nerve to even think about showing their faces to you? How dare Lyney march back into your second life like he didn’t just ruin your first one, but now this, too.

Lyney’s eyes are wide with worry as they reach the door. “Y/N, what happened—”

“Of course you knew where I live,” you say, brimming with contempt. “Did you tell that to your ‘Father’, too? Or was she the one who told you?”

“I was the one who knew, Y/N,” Lynette admits, her voice infuriatingly calm. “Lyney knew you wouldn’t want him knowing where you lived, so I volunteered to get intel and give you his gift. We came here because we thought ‘Father’ did something, and, well…”

The atmosphere drops. Everyone feels it—everyone but you, the catalyst. They flinch at the assault of the biting chill, of your fury in the form of a glacier.

“What… happened?” Lynette asks cautiously, quietly. You’ve never seen her terrified of you; it’s so wrong, but what they’re doing to you isn’t right either. So, really, who’s the bad guy here?

“Rosalie’s been kidnapped,” you say, clipped.

“Your guardian,” Lynette says, surprised. “The woman who runs the shop, right?”

“My mother. Don’t act like you didn’t expect this to happen.”

“We’re pawns in this, too,” Lyney says, finally finding his voice, it seems. “Please, I know it doesn’t seem that way right now. Let us prove it to you if you let us help—”

You scoffed, bitter and cold. You bit back the bite of ice and wondered how ironic it was that every time your Vision acted out, it was, more often than not, tied to Lyney.

“What, so you expect me to believe you’d just go against your ‘Father’ like that?”

“I would,” Lyney says without missing a beat.

How maddening. Aether, Lynette, and Paimon were shivering, wide-eyed and unsure, yet Lyney stood unfazed. No, he burns. His eyes, his gaze, they smolder your bleak anger. But that only serves to irritate you even more.

“Lyney,” you warn.

“I would, Y/N,” Lyney cuts, eyes narrowed fiercely. “I would for you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lyney.”

“I do. And you know I do!”

“Give me a good reason to believe that.”

“Because I lo—” Lyney grits his teeth, and finally, some real emotion—no more tricks, no more lies; his frustration satisfies you—at least until he says, “I like you, okay? You know this.”

Maybe deep down, you really did know. You felt it. Maybe you even feel the same. But your brain’s fogged over, and all you can think about is how Lyney keeps taking everything from you—‘Father’, your pride, your spotlight, and now Rosalie.

Aether reaches out. “Y/N—”

“Shut up. None of this would’ve happened if I never met you,” you snap, turning away at the sight of his eyes flashing with hurt.

You turn and stomp off, refusing to acknowledge their protests and Lyney’s weak pleading. The door slams shut and rattles, with ice spreading from where you’ve touched it. “Find your sister yourself. Stupid brothers, getting me involved… This is why I’m an only child…”

And so you’re back to square one. Alone. So be it. Maybe this is truly where you belong, anyway. You don’t need them, and you definitely don’t need Lyney and his blind love.

This is how it would come to be, eventually. You, leaving; or them, leaving you. You long expected it. Or maybe it is because you forced it—you wanted it like you’d feel in control if things went exactly as you expected.

So why does leaving them feel nothing like control?

notes i know i kept saying i was excited to post this chapter, but now that im actually posting it i got nervous LMFAOO its been a month since the last update. i dont know how i did tbh!!! but either way, tysm for reading and i hope u can stay with me for four more chapters <3

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaa @rionah @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng @fiannee @ask-kurayami-akura @sc4rlett-letter @xxxion @wangshuu @deathkat657 @powchakko @beasalmeh @h-8chi @lovelypadisarah @unstablemiss @huanator @ceneid

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

[ghost-bxrd]

What happens if jason let's out a blood curdling scream out of absolutely nowhere? Not an au or anything I just want to know what you think the bat gang reactions would be

Depending on where they are/what they’re doing right now the reactions would vary slightly. But in general I don’t think any of them wouldn’t feel a stab of panic at that sound. Especially Bruce. (Maybe he‘s heard that scream before. Maybe there was footage to be recovered from the smashed domino in that warehouse all those years ago, maybe he still dreams of this exact sound over and over and over again)

Bruce would drop everything and run in Jason‘s general directions (trying and failing to fall into the clinical focus of Batman).

Dick wouldn’t be much better, though slightly more level headed about it and try to put his initial panic on the backburner. He knows Jason. Jason doesn’t scream even if he‘s being tortured these days. This could just be him being dramatic (please please please let this be him being dramatic)

Tim would assess the situation. Worried in his own way, but channeling that worry into securing the perimeter to give his comrades a clear shot at their target. Make sure there’s nothing in their way that could stop them.

Stephanie would jump straight into screaming back. She‘s not buying this bullshit. If Jason was in serious danger/hurt he would be making awful jokes and snippy comments about it. Or not make any sound at all. (She‘s not worried, she refuses to be worried. She‘s just gonna check up on him to give Jason a piece of her mind about interrupting patrol/a quiet night/a nice nap)

Cass would know straight away that nothing is actually happening and appear at Jason‘s side only so she can pat him on the shoulder. Maybe even get a hug.

Damian would loudly proclaim that Todd should learn how to suffer in silence, and that he‘s only going to check up on him because he cannot think with that awful sound he‘s making. (He‘s not worried, what are you talking about. He‘s not shaking. He‘s just a little cold. Get your facts straight. Jason screaming doesn’t rattle him in the slightest.)

Duke would one hundred percent believe someone‘s in the process of killing Jason and almost fall over himself trying to reach him. He‘s annoyed when it turns out to be nothing, but mostly he’s just relieved and demands Jason never does this again because he almost had a heart attack.

#musings #headcanons #jason screaming out of absolutely nowhere #jason todd #dick grayson #batfam #batfamily #bruce wayne #robin #tim drake #red hood #Damian Wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas

[twisted-king]

*skurries into the ask box again,* hi hi! I’m honor of my stupidness, I want to know what your take on how Housewardens would react to mc/their s/o breaking their foot! :)

Oh hey a HC RQ! Yeah I can do that!!!

Riddle Rosehearts

~Riddle’s mom is a highly successful doctor, so I assume he’s picked up a few things during childhood. ~He’s also not the best at being honest with himself and his feelings, so he’s a bit more “hands on” rather than emotionally supportive .

So, when he first got news of your injured foot he started panicking, he kept asking if you needed anything along with various “suggestions” insisting on taking you to go to the hospital. But, like a good boyfriend, Riddle stays by your side as much as possible with his busy schedule on top of house warden duty. He brings you various soothing teas for you to try, each one accompanied by a little treat. He tries his best to keep you on top of your studies, he brings his notes from class to go over with you. Unfortunately every time you move he gets a little anxious..

he really wants you to be ok :(

Leona Kingscholar

~Bro sees OPPORTUNITY

~kind of… throws money at the problem…

it’s not that he doesn’t care!!! In fact, quite the opposite! He likes being able to take care of you, but does NOT like that you’re hurt about it. So he’s with you in a very—Leona—kind of way. When he hears about your broken foot he immediately kind of milks it. He start skipping class to be with you rather than nap. Well, he’s still napping just with you! He kind of hopes if you sleep enough you’ll feel a little better. When he notices any discomfort, he takes it upon himself to get the best medical professionals around to take care of the problem. He carries you to his magishift practices so you can watch him play. Leona doesn’t want you to get bored after all.

he cares, he’s just really bad at this!

Azul Ashengrotto

~WHAT??? HUH??? HOPITAL?

~Zuzu here is trying SO HARD to be normal about this

Azul seems calm about your broken foot at first, he gracefully brings you some Monstro Lounge menu items in a little doggy bag ASAP. Although by his heavier breathing he definitely ran to ramshackle… He has the Tweels soon follow after with study materials, pain meds, and some extra pillows for you. He kind of tries to play it off by joking that his services don’t come for free, but they do for you… just this once! He’s really worried about you though… he’s finding it so hard to focus on the Monstro Lounge. He’s all alone in his office, you’re not around like usual… So he gets the bright idea to visit you everyday with a meal for you and his documents. While not the most romantic he feels way more at ease knowing you’re okay because you’re in his sights!

He’s so worried ur on his mind like 24/7

Kalim Al-Asim

~NHVSCR,JHBDVDJHBDDC ARE YOU OKAY????

~What do you call a friendly kidnapping??

You call Kalim and two seconds later, Jamil is at ur door taking you to Scarabia by carpet. When you arrive at Scarabia (with a GROUCHY Grim in tow) you find Kalim worriedly constructing the world’s most elaborate pillow fort. He wants you to be comfortable while you’re healing!!! He showers you in hugs and kisses when you arrive, guiding you towards the comfortable fortress as he does. Is,,. Is he crying??? He makes sure you’re surrounded by food and plushies at all times. Yeah unfortunately this means Jamil is working overtime… HOWEVER Kalim does makes sure your foot is always elevated, and that you take your meds on time! He misses dancing with you <3

Vil Schoenheit

~First of all: How.

~Second of all: He gets it was somehow Crowley’s fault (he is NOT over the state if Ramshakle)

He found out before you called him, Rook knows some shit…. Vil’s priority is making sure you heal safe and comfortable. So he prepared some potions to ease the recovery and dull the pain. He has a busy schedule so he can’t spend as much time with you as he’d like… however, when he is by your side he helps you through your skincare routine and some light movement you can do while semi-immobile. You two have some really comfortable stay in dates, doing one other’s makeup, watching old films. He always departs with a kiss on the forehead for you, and a reminder to take care of yourself. Occasionally, when his schedule is too packed, Epel or Rook will show up to keep you company. And sometimes,,. Very rarely, you’ll get a cute photo of him holding up a finger heart.

I don’t have biases wdym….. Best boyfriend ever

Idia Shroud

~On god???

~Do…Do you want to stay in Ignihyde…? No, no,.. never mind…

He’s already kind of distant, he sometimes can’t believe he got an S/O in the first place…. So when he gets word that your foot is broken he’s pretty anxious. Idia sometimes comes over with a ton of snack and anime to binge with you. He’s not really sure what to do but he’s doing his best I promise! If you ask for some affection he’ll give you a little peck on the cheek or a hand to your head. He offers to build you a hover boot kind of thing so it’s easier to keep elevated. Other than that, you’re speeding a LOT of time with Ortho…

he tried..?

Malleus Draconia

~Child of man you are so fragile this is why you should stay with me forev—

~The world almost ended (jk he did get really scared tho)

Malleus hears of your broken foot and immediately offers to heal it using magic. He is potentially the most powerful mate he can do it— you don’t want that?? That’s ok, he will stay with you until you feel better! He spends a lot of time showing you how roaring drago is doing, and pictures of the different gargoyles around the campus. He’s not sure how humans function properly so he does go off for indeterminate amounts of time to ask Lilia what to do. He usually comes back with more comfort items and little snacks you like. Every time you feel any pain his heart breaks a little…

he is just a little GUYYYY

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #twst #disney twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst azul #twst malleus #twst riddle #twst kalim #twst idia #twst leona #twst vil #vil schoenheit x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #kalim al asim x reader #idia shroud x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #malleus draconia x reader #vil schoenheit #malleus draconia #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader

[hazbinhotelie]

Could you do something where Alastor finds a reader who is so innocent and free of sin he has no idea how they ended up in Hell.

Extra points if the reader is so innocent they sell him their soul with no idea what they've done.

(Please make it Soft Alastor though)

TW: mention of suicide. It’s only brief. Everything else is fine!

“There we go! Now the deal is sealed and done,” Alastor said with a grin, rolling up the contract. “Pleasure doing business with you, my dear.”

“Same to you, Al,” I said with a smile.

We stood in his house- apparently he owned a hotel or something, it was just busy at the moment. He said his place would be safer, anyway. Away from other sinners who could hurt me. It made sense to me. I looked around at the old wallpaper, the portraits and decorations. It was nice. Cozy, even.

“Hm,” he said. I turned my attention back to him. He seemed to be thinking about something- about me, judging by the way he was looking at me. “Tell me, why did you sell me your soul?”

“You said you’d protect me,” I said lightly, nonchalant. “I gave you my soul, so now I’m safe from any other demon. You’ve given me a place to stay, food to eat, and clothes to wear. I’m new here and incredibly weak, I’d have died within moments without you. It only makes sense.”

“Yes, but…” he paused for a moment, contemplating whether he should even continue. He had my soul, he’d gotten what he wanted, there was no need to press for information. Still, he found himself curious. “But now I own you. You have to do what I say. You don’t even know me. Were in hell and you followed me to my house willingly and sold your soul to me. Doesn’t that seem like a bad idea?”

“Eh,” I said, giving him a small shrug. I smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You were the only sinner that spared me a second glance, the only one that was nice to me. That doesn’t make you a good person, but… well…” I sighed. “I figure it makes you better than the others. At least, better to be around. Better to sell my soul to you than some random demon pointing a gun to my head.”

“So… what you’re saying is, you sold your soul to me because I’ve been cordial and not outright mean or rude,” he said. He seemed surprised, as if it were unexpected.

“I mean… it shows that you have standards, at least,” I said sheepishly. “If you’re typically nice and composed, it means I’m safer with you. If I made a deal with a demon that’s always angry and lashing out at others, I could easily be hurt or killed by them.”

“But…” he seemed dumbfounded. He shook his head in disbelief, then turned around and started pacing the room. “This makes no sense,” he muttered. “Say, what is it that got you into hell? You seem awfully nice and… well, naive, to be a sinner at all.”

I shrugged and looked away. “I dunno.”

He stopped and turned to me. “What? What do you mean you don’t know? There has to be something.” He looked me up and down, as if searching for something. “You have no hints on your body as to how you died. How did that happen? Surely it must have something to do with why you’re down here.”

“Suicide,” I replied quietly. I really didn’t want to talk about it, I was desperately wishing he’d just drop the topic. I couldn’t lie or stay silent, he owned my soul. If he wanted information he was going to get it either way, regardless of how it made me feel.

“I… what?” His expression softened, but he still seemed confused. He thought it over in his head. He had lived during the Great Depression, the first time in American history that suicide became an almost common thing- due to everyone being in debt and homeless, many felt hopeless, as if there was no way out. He hadn’t experienced that so he couldn’t relate- and he had no idea of that even applied to me at all. Times had changed, so it could very well be another reason. He opened his mouth to ask, but stopped short. He saw my expression and shook his head. He couldn't bring himself to ask. It couldnt be that important anyway. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“It’s okay,” I said, looking at the ground. I was fidgeting a little, nervous. My stomach growled.

Alastors ears perked up at the sound. “You seem hungry, my dear,” he said, jumping on the chance to change the sensitive subject. “How about I show you to the kitchen? It’s been a moment since I’ve last used it, but I’m told I’m quite a good cook.”

“I think I’d like that,” I said, with a small smile. I followed him in and he got to work.

“Now, you can watch but don’t touch anything. I have this place organized in a very particular way and I’d rather it not be messed up- it’d be rude of me to make a guest cook, anyway,” he said, matter of fact.

I smiled and nodded, then sat down and watched him work. He pulled out a cookbook and started making jambalaya- apparently it was a family recipe. He shifted the topic to himself, and told me about his mother and what New Orleans was like when he was alive. I listened, content. I liked listening to him talk. Hell wasn’t a good place by any means, but with him I was comfortable. I could almost forget I was in hell at all.

#alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader

[evie-sturns]

fall - Chris Sturniolo

summary: where your boyfriend chris accidentally hurts you, he spends the whole rest of the night trying to make you feel better.

contains: crying, fluff, comforting, minor injury

------------------------.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.----------------——

With a small grunt I attempt to reach on top of the fridge for the wine glasses, after a bad day at work the only thing I wanted was a glass of red wine.

"Chris!!" I call out, finally realising I can't reach. He doesn't respond, I'm pretty sure he has his headphones on in our room.

Admitting defeat I get off my tiptoes and jog over to the dining table, I drag one of the flimsy wooden chairs across the room back to the fridge.

I sink my top teeth into my bottom lip as I bend over, grabbing the back of the chair and stepping up onto it,

Just then chris walks into the kitchen "you okay?" he asks, walking over behind me as he looks up at me.

"Yeah! I'm just trying t-" I start but I get cut off by Chris's foot slamming against the leg of the chair

bang.

He knocks it out from under my feet, my feet give out, slipping against the wood. "oh my god-" he raises his voice as i fall sideways,

the whole left side of my body slams against the tiles of the kitchen floor, my head slightly making Impact as well.

I lay in shock for a couple seconds before the pain hits, shockwaves of heat shoot up my side, my head throbbing.

I burst into ugly sobs, "I'm so sorry! Shit-- are you okay?" chris gasps, leaning over and picking me up effortlessly, he cradles me in his arms. I can physically hear his heartbeat, his hands trembling as he runs his hand over my head.

"my hip!" i cry, Chris runs over to our bedroom and sits down on the bed, he holds me close to his chest.

"where does it hurt- tell me where it hurts" he rambles frantically, I point to the side of my body and chris nods understandingly,

“is your head okay? it’s not bleeding” Chris try’s to stay calm but I don’t think me sobbing into his shirt is helping

“please don’t cry i’m so sorry.” chris sighs shakily, rubbing my arms and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“lers get you changed baby, you can’t be comfortable in your work clothes, you think!” Chris try’s to lighten the mood, I nod.

Chris carefully moves me off his lap, as if he touches me any harder i’ll shatter. He jogs over to the closet and looks back at me with a sorry expression

“what- what would you like to wear?” Chris squeezes out, I shrug before wiping my eyes

“that’s okay! are we feeling hot or cold?” He asks, scanning over my face which is drenched in tears

“hot” I mumble, my voice cracking halfway through. Chris nods before searching through the closet drawers quickly

he pulls out a small white tank top and blue striped boy-shorts. “is this okay?” he asks, I nod.

Chris walks over to me and picks me up from under my arms, standing me upright on my feet.

“does it hurt to stand up right sweetheart?” Chris asks, his voice laced with concern.

Truthfully it does hurt to put weight on the right side of my body, but I don’t want to tell him that and panic him more than he already is

i shake my head, “that’s a good sign!” chris force’s enthusiasm, he doesn’t cover up his emotions that well so the undertone of his sentence is fear.

he taps my arm, “and… arms up” chris says, trying to concentrate. I force back my tears as I put my arm up, my right arm won’t comfortably go up.

“oh baby.” chris sighs, rubbing that arm. “do you want to try put it up just for a second? I’ll be really quick getting your blouse off.”

I raise both arms with a wince, chris pouts slightly as he swiftly pulls my shirt off. “you’re doing so well” he whispers, grabbing the white tank top from behind him and pulling it on over me.

“and arms down!” chris says, my arms fall back down. i give him a small smile, tears still flowing down my flushed cheek.

chris reaches down and unbuttons my mini skirt, before tugging it down to my ankles. he hooks his fingers under the waistband of my panties before pulling them down and off.

He picks me up from under my arms again, lift in me out of the skirt which is bunched around my ankles before placing me back down on the carpet. Chris grabs the shorts and pulls them up.

He looks somewhat proud of that effort of getting me changed.

Chris picks me up again and lays me down on the mattress. “how are we doing?” chris asks quietly, i look up at him “I’m okay- i think”

“If you’re not feeling sleepy yet we can grab my laptop and put on a show, or if you’re tired we can go to sleep?” He suggests,

Unironically i yawn when he’s halfway through his sentence, “that’ll answer my question” he laughs, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall down, he walks over to the closet, picking out some pyjama shorts and throwing them on.

he takes off his shirt and discards it on his desk chair before walking back over to me, Chris crawls over me and lays down, tugging the covers up over me.

I lay my head on his chest with a small sniffle.

“i’m genuinely so sorry, i really didn’t mean too.” chris whispers into my hair.

“it’s okay.” I say, “if you’re still hurting tomorrow morning we’ll get you to the doctors okay?”

“thank you chris, i love you.” i smile, he reaches his hands up and wipes my eyes.

“oh- chris what about the wine” I instantly remember the fact there’s a spill of red wine spread across the floor.

“you want wine right now? if it’ll make you feel better i’ll go get i-“ he starts, I cut him off

“noo chris! the spill” I laugh, “oh it’s okay, it’ll be fine i’ll clean ‘her up in the morning” Chris replies casually.

“you sure?” I ask, “it might smell really strong of wine in there for the next couple weeks if we don’t get it now”

“i’ll get it out, i have my ways” chris giggles stupidly, earning a scoff from me.

——

8:23am the next morning

The morning sun burns into the side of my face, with a small husky groan i sit up, chris is wide awake next to me laying on his back, his gaze slowly drifts over to me

He’s got dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, his skin pale.

“What happened to you? You look like death” I laugh tiredly

“I don’t think I slept once” Chris groans

“Why? what happened- was I on top of you again like the first time we slept in the same bed- sorry.” I ramble

“no no- it wasn’t you” chris laughs,

“i was just really worried.. about you, and i felt awful for hurting you and making you cry—“ chris says quietly

“oh chris.” i say with a sad smile, i lean down and press a kiss to his lips, holding both sides of his face with my hands.

“i’m okay- i promise sweet boy” I whisper,

“now get to sleep, i’ll be in the living room” I laugh,

chris whines- holding up his hands and tugging my shorts, pulling me towards him

“you know i hate sleeping alloonee” chris groans

—————

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts s @333michelle @h3arts4harry y @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 4 @ecilphttlunar @pkfferroo @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.13

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Ch. Notes: short

Summary: Fisk gains a new unexpected ally that deeply affects a member of the family.

An: Short filler Ch. but with a warning. Sorry for the mistakes, just wanted to get something out for yall. Also fear not, we will be getting the very essential "date" chapter soon, but first some world building yknow.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

With the way life had been treating you lately, the ups and downs, you felt as though this should be harder. You felt like there was a funk or depression that should be settling into your mind, but there wasn’t. There should’ve been anxiety building up, but all you felt was calm.

After the beating you suffered you thought you’d be more on edge. However as your body healed itself, you found yourself at ease. There was something smug about your survival. Perhaps it had to do with the blossoming relationship that you had been reveling in.

Throughout the years you had prided yourself on changing and morphing into someone with a tough exterior and an even stronger interior. While you never regretted becoming that way, you admit that in it you lost some of your personality.

You were so much more than a victim of the abuse you had suffered at the hands of your mother. As you grew, after separating yourself from her you were set on not ever being a victim again that you hid everything that you thought made you vulnerable.

Your likes and leisurely activities all of sudden seemed like weak points. The only one who was able to make you let your guard down was Pietro.

Now however, having Wanda and Natasha by your side, you find yourself on a path of rediscovery. You feel like you’re coming into yourself again. The women are the perfect models of work life balance and you think it’s everything you’ve been missing.

The can go into the office work diligently and complete their jobs, but also clock out and relax. The enjoy themselves and they enjoy you.

Wanda personally loves seeing you open up a bit more, after seeing how much of yourself you pushed down. Natasha finds herself collecting bits and pieces of information about you that she plans to commit to memory.

In the very back of your mind you think about how quiet the streets have been. You expected Fisk to brag about your beating just like he did with Dragos. However there had been no commotion, and the intel that you were getting didn’t indicate any attacks soon.

It was eerie and you would've dwelled on it in the past, but Natasha and Wanda reassured you that everything was under control. Natasha constantly let you go over her team strategies to show you she was utilizing the soldiers given to her.

They tried to keep you out of the office for your recovery, but you just found yourself working from home until your ankle was healed. As soon as you were able, you stepped back into the office.

While you had made nearly a full recovery, you could not say the same for Dragos. It pained you hear that doctors have reported a stagnation in his progress. Flora relied that certain doctors were starting to suggest pulling the plug as a feasible option. The entire family was adamant to oppose any talk of such actions.

“Baby?”

Your eyes leave your compute to see Wanda and Natasha entering your office.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Natasha speaks, “We were wondering if you wanted to grab dinner tonight?”

You nod, “For sure.”

Wanda clarifies a bit, “Like a date, Y/n.”

Your eyes widen a bit, but you nod excitedly at the prospect, “Even better, of course.

“We’ll go home, get ready and go from there?” Nat suggests.

“Can’t wait,” a small smile plays on your lips.

Everything about this has felt casual and you love that, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t want to have the typical romantic experiences. This would amongst the first few dates you three had gone on.

Pietro storms into the office breaking up the relaxed atmosphere they had been sitting in. The man looks like he is complete emotional distress.

“I need to talk to Y/n.”

His sister wants to question him, but with one shake of your head she pulls her wife out of the office.

“What’s wrong, Piet?”

He doesn’t hold it together much longer as he signals he needs a hug. You stand up quickly and wrap your arms around him. You feel his tears hit his shoulder and admittedly, your worry multiplies.

“Monica,” he says in his broken tone.

You rub his back soothingly, “What about her?”

He pulls away, “ Two months we lasted, Y/n. I had asked her to be official she said yes, but she’s ended things with me.”

“Oh Piet.”

He shakes his head, “It’s worse than that. She indebted to Fisk, Y/n. She owes him money and favors, she never told me because he’s never come to collect. But now, he’s cashing in.”

You frown deeply, “So she’s protecting you.”

“I need to be protecting her,” he grits his teeth.

You feel for your friend, you don’t believe you have the right words to bring him comfort, “ But you don’t know how.”

Pietro has a new fire in his eyes, “With a bullet in his skull. He’s tried to take everything from me. Papa, you, and now the love of my life.”

You knew the man could be hotheaded at times, and for once you knew he had every right to be. Yet, you couldn’t justify him doing something irrational.

“When the time comes, he will be dealt with,” you say.

Pietro shakes his head, “Nothings happened since your attack, everything is settling. This war will drag on and on if we let it."

“We can’t tear apart the city for no reason, Piet. It’s a bad look from us,” you try to reason with him.

“I know that, but it’s not what I want to hear.”

He slumps down on your office couch with his head in his hands. You sit next to him and rub his shoulder.

“How about we do something tonight, like old times? Something so that we can feel normal for once,” you suggest.

“I can’t even text her because what if she becomes a pawn in this scheme,” he sighs.

“ We’re hanging out tonight. To take your mind off of this, even if it’s only for a moment,” you speak sincerely to him.

He nods slowly in agreement, “Fine, but only because I don’t want to be alone and maybe I’ve missed you. Wanda too, I miss when timed were simpler.”

You get a little excited, “Tonight, me, you, Wanda, Natasha we can do something together. It’ll be reminiscent of old times.”

Pietro agrees and you let him stay in the office as you work. You texted Wanda and Natasha filling them on the details. They were understanding about having to cancel your plans. Natasha also took note of Monica as one of Fisk’s new allies.

The three of you brainstorm to come up with some plans to help your friend for the time being. The night still had promise and none of you wanted to waste it.

Unfortunately for you all, the sir was about become ten times more suffocating and no one would see it coming.

Fisk knew you all would become complacent sooner or later, drop you guards prematurely. He was watching unfold and getting ready to strike again, however this time, he planned for the kill shot.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #pietro maximoff

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Handle Critique

I’ve got to admit, I wish I was one of those beatific saints that could take critique with a grateful smile. Instead, I am constantly suppressing a horrible little gremlin at the back of my head hissing at anything from legit plot critiques to grammar corrections. I’m well aware I used that comma wrong, GOD.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very good at suppressing that gremlin, but the little bastard is still there. He exists because even though your brain knows critique can help, it also knows you worked damn hard on the thing being critiqued, and goddamnit, isn’t that enough???

Anyway, here are some tips on getting that gremlin to shut the hell up.

It is okay to be upset. You worked really hard on this thing, and now someone’s gone and pointed out all the things that suck about it. You cannot control how you feel about one thing or another, but you can allow yourself to feel that way and let it pass through you. Let your critique partner you’re taking time to reflect on it, and go for a walk. Do something else. Let those feelings pass through you before you get back to the page.

Give yourself time. Don’t feel like you need to correct things right away (unless they are minimal grammar tweaks). Some pieces of feedback might take awhile to sink in, especially when you’ve got a whole novel to wrestle through. Set it aside, think about something else for a week or so, and get back to it when you’ve reset.

Get a second opinion and/or ducky friend. It can be very hard to tell the difference between good and bad feedback sometimes. Someone who means very well could give feedback that just doesn’t work for you, and someone who doesn’t give two shits could have spotted that fatal flaw right away. You can bring in a real third party or just make use of the old rubber duck technique, where you talk through the issue with a friend or a Naruto poster telling you to Believe it. Working it out out-loud is a really effective technique to figure out what needs fixing and what doesn’t.

Guide critique-givers toward the feedback you want. I, a person who prefers straightforward fantasy and sci-fi, cannot give the fine-tooth points on how a romance novel should work. However, I can give feedback on what works for me and what doesn’t story-wise. Giving your beta reader or critique partner a list of questions to look for will help avoid vague feedback based on how they don’t like the genre. There are many ways to do this, but consider using the following as a base to tailor your own questions:

Did you get a good sense of the setting? Did the worldbuilding make sense to you?

Was this story clear? Where there any parts that seemed confusing?

What characters did you like and why? What characters didn’t you like?

Did any parts of the story feel slow or repetitive?

Did the beginning draw you in? Did the middle keep you engaged? Did the ending feel satisfying?

If you were to write [insert plot point here], what would you do differently?

Again, all of the above questions are up for debate depending on your goal, but we are rarely taught how to give good feedback, and a guided feedback session would work better for you than a free-for-all.

Figure out what kind of advice doesn’t work for you. It is really hard to give good feedback sometimes, even with guided questions. It can also be really hard to figure out why some feedback doesn’t click with you, and that’s a matter of digging deep to figure out what you really want. You may lean toward characters who are horrible fuck-ups, but your partner prefers more steady characters who always strive to do the right thing. Your characters, therefore, may never click with this person, no matter how much they want to help you. And that’s okay! Figuring out where your critique partner is coming from can help you figure out what parts of their feedback isn’t working for you. Sometimes the only thing you can do is thank them and move on, but you might also want to guide them to focus more on the plot or the worldbuilding when looking at your work.

And last, don’t focus on grammar. It’s great if they point that out, but if you end up changing everything, trying to fix that first is a waste of your time. Grammar tweaks last, plot points first.

And, I dunno, give yourself a treat to get that horrible little mind gremlin something else to focus on. Sometimes patting those bad feelings on the head and sending them away can help way more than ignoring them.

#writing feedback #writing advice #telling yourself this feels bad and I don't like it is okay! #even if you asked for that advice it can still hurt! #just let it pass and you'll be okay

[merakiui]

psssssssssst which twst boy would probably buy onlyfans from sex worker darling trying to make some money for the week?

All of them. <3 and they all think they’re so unique for supporting you through this means, but it turns out everyone else is subscribed to the highest tier (or whichever tier they’re able to afford). Suddenly Ace is very dedicated to his part-time job as he works to make enough for the highest tier. Even students like Jack buy from you, but it’s only to support you (not salivate over the content you’re putting out… that’s definitely part of it).

Of course Azul has to get the highest tier, as do most of the Housewardens as they firmly believe they’re entitled to the best of the best. And it also supports you much more than the lower tiers! Because Azul is so charitable, he’s even willing to send you more money (please notice him). Vil loves to admire these risqué and intimate photos, as does Rook. Sometimes it’s not even for sexual purposes. They just find you to be the sweetest work of art they’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Idia claims he’s only subscribing so he can get top-tier references for when he’s drawing or practicing lewd anatomy. This is partially true, actually, because he does indeed practice. But then all of his sketches are of you. <3

Riddle had to convince himself over and over that this was okay. He’s not breaking any rules. In fact, buying the highest tier actually helps you! So he’s just doing what any good person and dependable Housewarden would do: support those who require assistance. He spends the entire week feeling guilty and avoiding looking at the photos/videos because he feels like he’s being a gross pervert. But you willingly put this content out there for him and others, and it’s all in accordance with the site’s rules! So… it’s fine if he masturbates to the sight of your nudity.

Floyd has so much fun waiting for the new photos and videos you’ll upload. You always do something different and it keeps him endlessly entertained. Sometimes you even take requests from your subscribers! He wants to see you do all sorts of exciting things. Jade’s much the same, but somehow Floyd’s requests seem so softcore compared to the things Jade wants from you. ^^;;;;

Ruggie buys the highest tier using Leona’s card. Leona did say he could get something for himself, and he never put any restrictions on what could or couldn’t be bought. <3 no wonder why this is the highest tier. The things you put out really are worthy of being in this tier, and he makes sure to save each and every one should a day come when he’s not able to look anymore.

Speaking of Leona, he thinks it’s impressive you’re able to keep up with all of the tiers you have and do something new every time. He won’t settle for anything less than the highest, and he enjoys the things you do for that tier. You never disappoint. Although pictures and videos are only good fantasy fuel. They can’t compare to the real thing. Perhaps he won’t have to wait any longer to meet you in person when you start doing meet-ups with one lucky subscriber from the highest tier.

Malleus doesn’t know how to work lots of technology, so he probably seeks someone out to show him how it’s done. He doesn’t see any shame in it. This is essentially artwork, is it not? The things you do can be appreciated in a unique, romantic light when you’re Malleus Draconia. Either that, or Lilia buys it. And of course if waka-sama has it, then Sebek must as well. He thinks he’s so much better than Silver because he’s subscribed to the highest tier just like his lord and Lilia, and what is Silver? Nothing! Sebek looks ready to crumble into dust when Silver reveals he’s always been subscribed to you from the very beginning. T_T

Kalim most definitely buys the highest tier! He’s probably your most generous subscriber (sorry, Azul). He’s always ready to send you hefty donations. He’s very sweet about it. Jamil would manage his absurd spending habits, but he’s also quite attracted to the types of things you’re posting for your highest tier, and Kalim’s basically funding it. Those shibari and collar posts reeled him in and have since dug their claws into him. He’s down bad…

Omg and Cater!!! He was probably one of the first out of the twst cast to buy your onlyfans. He’s a very loyal subscriber. <3 Cater gets bragging rights because he’s your mutual on Magicam and sometimes the two of you chat. You might even send him a few photos that can’t be seen on any of your tiers yet… a special privilege for your favorite moot. :)

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw

[theotherbuckley]

Do u have any HCs about BuckTommy formally meeting each other’s bio parents? Or how the coming out journey went for them both when their bio parents found out?

- They don’t meet each others parents until it just happens. The Buckley parents have known about Tommy since the madney wedding but they never really commented on it. Buck didn’t ask them about it. They’d just started getting along he didn’t want to risk it.

- Tommy meets Buck’s parents more officially when Jee celebrates her 5th birthday. The Buckleys insist on doing something bigger because their granddaughter only turns 5 once. At this point Buck and Tommy have been together for over a year. When Buck introduces Tommy to his parents they say “oh so you’re still seeing him then?” but they don’t say anything worse they’re polite and that’s about as much as Buck could hope for. Later that night Tommy says he’s sorry the meeting didn’t go better. Buck shakes his head and says that his real family is happy for them and that’s all that matters. He tells Tommy later that he doesn’t understand why he never got the birthday party Jee got. That he’s happy she has her grandparents love but he just wishes he’d have had the same growing up. He tells him sometimes it’s hard not to think he’s the problem. Tommy holds him tight and tells him he matters and that he’s loved. Tommy throws him a massive party with the help of the 118 for his next birthday.

- Buck meets Tommy’s parents at Tommy’s dad’s third wedding. His mum gets drunk out of her mind and Tommy doesn’t even know why she showed up. Tommy’s dad asks him if he’s still gay then. Tommy nods. Tommy’s dad shakes his head and says what can you do. Tommy’s mum says hi, she’s polite and tells him she’s pleased to meet him. But then she gets drunk and spits out hateful words to Tommy’s dad. Tommy feels like he’s 5 again, listening to his parents argue from his bedroom. Tommy tells Buck he’s sorry he had to see that. Buck takes him home and tells him that they can’t choose where they come from. That the family they have is what’s important.

- In the end Buck and Tommy get married in Bobby and Athena’s backyard. The Buckley parents show up which Buck thinks must count for something. Maddie walks him down the aisle. Tommy’s mother comes but his dad doesn’t. He says he doesn’t want to be anywhere near “that woman” Tommy shrugs and says it doesn’t matter, he’s getting married to the man of his dreams and that’s all he cares about. He’d rather they didn’t make a scene anyway. Bobby marries them. Talks about how they were both punk kids when he first met them but how they’ve grown into great men. He calls them his family. He says how far they’ve come from Buck calling Bobby Pops to how Bobby loves him like his son. He tells Tommy he couldn’t have asked for a better son-in-law. Buck and Tommy kiss as husbands for the first time with tears dripping down their cheeks.

#I hope this will suffice anon! #purple asks #911 abc #911 fandom #bucktommy #Tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 spoilers #tevan #911 headcanons #bucktommy headcanons

[bigfatbimbo]

Hey boo hope your day is going well,

I was wondering if you have any his of Velvette dating someone who likes to cook?

(I'm trying to think of some Sage x Velvette content but I'm drawing a blank bestie :()

a/n — I lowkey have been wanting to sit down and write this for a long time because it was so close to being done for like.. weeks.

warnings — Mostly fluff, Velvette is her own warning, suggestive themes, gn reader, NOT PROOFREAD!!!

summary — Velvette x a cook!Reader

Let me just say, Velvette is someone who loves princess treatment. Like it’s truly expected, and incredibly appreciated.

So after a long day at work, her models were getting on her nerves, she had tons of shit to do

and she comes home, beaten, bitchy, and incredibly tired, and she smells something amazing wafting through the air.

Realizing where you were and what you were doing, she’d approach you from behind and rest her head on your shoulder as you cook.

You were making her favorite meal, and god that’s amazing after a long day.

She’d definitely ask you to cook whatever she was craving.

Like totally on the spot, too.

She’d see something that looks good on voxtok and just flash you a photo and be like “Cook this.”

Or out the blue she’d be like “I’d kill for a fucking pancake right now.”

And now you’re on duty, you better cook it up fast because the princess is waiting.

I feel like she’d be a picky eater too.

But in the sense where if it doesn’t look aesthetic, she isn’t eating it.

“I’m not eating that shit, looks like vomit on a plate.”

Like even if it’s really good.

But when it does look good, she is snapping photos of your food left and right, posting it all over instagram (voxtagram??)

And definitely bragging in the description like “look what a special someone cooked up for me. Love you babes xoxoxo @[y/n]”

Also definitely asks you to cook for fashion shows, maybe other of the Vees events.

She’s definitely boasting about how you pamper her like that.

Making snide comments to Vox like “When was the last time Val cooked for your sorry ass? HA, thought so.”

Princess treatment plays into it, but also appreciating her to a level that’s beyond skin deep.

Like everyone thinks, no, knows she’s hot shit, that’s obvious

but only you know the recipe for brownies that she really likes,

or how she has a soft spot for warmer meals like homemade biscuits.

Winding down after a long day, cuddling into you, and eating your special nacho recipe while watching tv.

Something about you cooking for her makes her feel like royalty, and rightfully so, in her opinion.

If you’re well known enough to actually work as a chef or have a restaurant, god knows where she’s spending all of her time.

Shes stopping by, more like bursting in, and harassing all the staff until she ensures she’s getting something cooked by you.

“Who made this shit? Chelsea? Chelsea can shove it up her ass, get me something from an actually competent chef.”

Rinse and repeat until it’s you.

Coming home to a warm meal from you always makes her feel appreciated.

She’s a terrible bitch, however, and she has the awful habit of trying to distract you while you cook.

She comes up behind you in a seemingly harmless hug, planting an innocent kiss on your neck like the sweet girlfriend she is and

and her hands are creeping up your shirt.

“Velvette, stop distracting me, foods gonna be fucked—“

”I’m not doing anything!”

And her fingers are toying with your belt buckle.

Depending on what you decide to do, it’s her fault if the foods burned.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #inbox open #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel smut #velvette x reader #hazbin velvette #hazbin velvette x reader #velvette x you #hazbin hotel velvette x reader