#but i was like no. that's her name now. she is perfect | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 20 hours ago

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BABY, BABY | MV1

an: max verstappen you are a four time world champion!!! here's a little fic to celebrate that. i started writing it while watching the race, then had to mourn the loss of the battle then went back to writing it and my back hurts because my posture is shit. anyway enjoy!!

wc: 3.3k

Max Verstappen lived for speed. The roar of the engine, the blur of the track, the thunderous applause of the crowd—this was his kingdom. At twenty-seven, he was already a legend, a three-time Formula One World Champion whose name was etched into the annals of the sport. And this season? It was shaping up to be another triumph. Four wins in the first five races, podium finishes for all of them, and whispers in the paddock that he was untouchable.

He had every reason to be confident. The car was a beast—precision-engineered, relentless in its power. His team was operating like clockwork, every pit stop a perfectly executed ballet. But above all, she was there. His fiancée. She didn’t need to speak to make her presence known; her calm, unwavering gaze from the paddock was like a talisman. He could feel her watching, believing in him, and it drove him forward.

After his most recent victory in Japan, he leaned against the garage wall, sweat still beading on his forehead. She approached him, her smile soft and private, meant just for him. The cameras flashed around them, capturing their moment, but he hardly noticed.

“You’re unstoppable,” she murmured, low enough that only he could hear.

“For you? Always,” he replied, brushing a gloved hand over her cheek before he was whisked away to interviews.

Everything was perfect. The season was his to lose, and he had no intention of letting that happen.

Six races later, the Max Verstappen that stood on the grid in Barcelona was not the same man who had claimed victory in Japan. His car was still strong, and his team still flawless. But the man behind the wheel was... distracted.

The cracks had started to show at the Monaco Grand Prix. A clumsy lock-up during qualifying left him sixth on the grid. In Hungary, he was slow off the line and struggled to match the pace of the leaders, finishing fifth.

The press was quick to pounce.

“What’s happening to Verstappen?” the headlines screamed.

Max shrugged it off, his trademark confidence still on display. “It’s the car,” he said with a wry smile after Hungary. “We’re making adjustments. It’ll come good.”

It was a convenient excuse, one his team begrudgingly accepted because of who he was. But the truth was far more complex—and far more personal.

She wasn’t here.

She hadn’t been at the last couple of races. At first, she’d said she wasn’t feeling well, and Max had brushed it off. But then the phone call came.

“I’m pregnant,” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. “I—I want to tell you in person, but I don’t think I can travel.”

In that moment, his world shifted. Joy, fear, and an overwhelming need to protect her collided in his chest. The image of her radiant on their wedding day-to-be now came with another—her cradling a newborn, their newborn. And with that came a thousand anxieties he’d never anticipated.

At every moment since, his thoughts weren’t on the track but on her. Was she eating enough? Was she getting rest? What if something went wrong, and he wasn’t there?

But no one knew. Not his team, not the press, not even his closest rivals. To them, Max Verstappen was still the king of the circuit. He could never let them see otherwise.

It was lap 32 of the Hungarian Grand Prix, and Max was battling for third with Charles. The two cars screamed through the corners, inches apart, but Max hesitated. He felt it—his grip loosened, his focus wavered. For the first time in his career, he wasn’t sure he could make the move stick.

Charles darted ahead, and Max watched as the gap widened. His engineer’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Max, you’re losing time in Sector 2. What’s going on?”

“Just the car,” he lied, jaw tight. “It’s sluggish through the corners.”

He crossed the finish line in fourth. As he stepped out of the car, he pulled off his helmet, running a hand through sweat-soaked hair. The cameras were on him, the journalists waiting. But all he could think about was her.

He needed to call. To hear her voice. To know she was okay.

The season was far from over, but the battle raging within Max was one he’d never prepared for. And as he watched his championship hopes start to slip through his fingers, he knew one thing for certain: no race, no trophy, no accolade mattered more than the life he was about to build off the track.

The Belgian Grand Prix was a race Max Verstappen wanted to forget. He’d spent the entire weekend battling the car—or so he told anyone who asked. But deep down, he knew the problem wasn’t mechanical. The fault lay within himself, his mind a chaotic swirl of worry and love that refused to quiet, no matter how fast he drove.

When he was finally allowed to go back to the hotel, the first thing he wanted to do was go home. Not the sprawling apartment in Monaco that everyone assumed was his sanctuary, but the smaller, quieter house tucked away in the English countryside. The place where she was.

It was just after midnight when his car pulled into the gravel driveway. The house was dark except for the soft glow of a single lamp in the living room window. She always left it on for him. He slipped inside quietly, leaving his suitcase in the car.

She was asleep, of course. Seven months pregnant and glowing with a beauty that stole his breath even in her most unguarded moments. He found her curled on her side in their bed, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly. Max dropped his coat on the chair and toed off his shoes before slipping into the bed beside her.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, careful not to wake her, and then rested his head gently against her belly. The warmth of her skin, the faint, rhythmic thrum of her breathing, and the thought of the tiny life growing inside her—it was everything he needed to feel whole again.

“Hi, little one,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with wonder. “It’s me. I’m finally home.”

As if in response, there was a small kick against his cheek. Max grinned, a tear slipping down his face as he chuckled quietly.

“Already a fighter,” he murmured. “Just like your mum.”

Her hand came to rest in his hair, threading through the blonde strands. He startled slightly, realising she was awake, her sleepy smile illuminated by the faint moonlight streaming through the window.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Always,” he replied, turning his head to kiss her palm. “How are you feeling? How’s our little champion?”

“Both fine,” she reassured him. “We missed you.”

“I missed you more,” he said, shifting up to lie beside her, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. His hand settled over hers on her belly, and they stayed like that for a long moment, the world outside forgotten.

The days that followed were a gift—a rare stretch of time without races, press obligations, or the relentless demands of the championship fight. They spent their mornings in the garden, her feet propped up on his lap while he read aloud from the parenting books she’d stacked on the table. Afternoons were lazy, filled with naps, quiet conversations, and the occasional moment when he leaned down to kiss her belly and whisper to their unborn child.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, she turned to him with a thoughtful look.

“You should tell them,” she said softly.

“Tell who what?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Your team. The press. Everyone.” She tilted her head, watching him carefully. “You’ve been carrying this alone for too long. They’ll understand.”

Max sighed, leaning back against the cushions and closing his eyes. “I like it like this,” he said after a moment. “It’s ours. Just ours. I don’t want them to turn this into... headlines or speculation. I want to keep it safe.”

She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “You’re not just keeping it safe, love. You’re keeping it locked away. And it’s hurting you.”

He kissed her forehead, a slow, lingering gesture that spoke more than words could. “It’s not hurting me. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. When I’m out there, and it’s all chaos and noise, this is what I hold onto. You. Our little one. It’s my anchor.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned into him, her hand resting lightly on his chest. “You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide. But you don’t have to carry this alone.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “But for now, I want it to stay ours. Just a little longer.”

The break passed too quickly, as it always did, but for Max, it was enough. The air in Austin was electric. Max, back from the summer break and seemingly rejuvenated, had shown flashes of his old brilliance in the first half of the race. But a controversial move during a heated battle for second had earned him a twenty-second penalty. The disappointment was palpable.

In the press conference afterward, he faced a barrage of questions, his jaw tight as he fielded them with his usual composure. But his heart wasn’t in it. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and the gnawing ache of being apart was beginning to wear on him.

The penalty stung less than the silence in his hotel room later that night. The upcoming triple-header—Austin, Mexico City, São Paulo—meant there’d be no chance to go home. Three weeks without her, without hearing the steady rhythm of her breathing as she slept beside him or feeling the flutter of their baby’s kicks beneath his hand. He stared at his phone for hours, tempted to call, but stopped himself. She needed rest. He could wait.

The race in São Paulo had just wrapped up. Max won, a result he should’ve been thrilled with, but all he could think about was getting back to England. The charter flight to London felt endless, the hours dragging as he stared out the window, replaying every voicemail she’d left him over the past week. Each one sounded more tired, more distant, and it made his chest tighten with unease.

When he finally arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. He dropped his bags in the hallway, calling out her name. No answer. He checked the bedroom, the nursery—they were empty. Panic began to rise as he pulled out his phone and dialled her number.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft but carried an edge of exhaustion.

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry. “I’m home, and you’re not here.”

“I’m at my mum’s,” she replied.

“Why?” His voice dropped, laced with confusion. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that stretched too long. And then, she said it.

“I had the baby.”

The words hit him like a jolt. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. “You what?” he whispered, as though saying it louder would make it less real.

“I had the baby,” she repeated, her tone gentle, but firm. “Two weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice a mix of hurt and disbelief.

“You had a job to do, Max,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Distract me?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen. “You’re my family. How could you think I wouldn’t drop everything to be there?”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “But I also know you. You’ve been carrying so much this season, and I didn’t want to add to it. You were halfway across the world, love. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her that she was wrong, that he would’ve found a way. But deep down, he understood. She was protecting him in her own way, just as he always tried to protect her.

“Is he... okay?” he asked finally, his voice softening.

“He’s perfect,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Healthy and beautiful. I wanted to surprise you when you got home, but we needed a bit of extra help, so I came here.”

“I’m coming now,” he said immediately. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The drive to her mother’s house felt like an eternity. When he finally pulled into the driveway, he barely remembered turning off the car before he was at the front door. Her mother greeted him with a warm smile and a quiet, “She’s upstairs.”

He took the steps two at a time, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the bedroom, he paused in the doorway.

She was sitting on the bed, her hair tied back loosely, her face glowing with a tired kind of happiness. And in her arms, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, was their son.

Max stepped inside slowly, his breath catching as he took in the sight. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice almost trembling.

“Hi,” she replied, smiling up at him. “Come meet him.”

He crossed the room, sitting beside her on the bed. She shifted the baby gently, placing him into Max’s waiting arms. For a moment, he could only stare.

Tiny fingers peeked out from the blanket, curling slightly as the baby let out a soft sigh. His nose, his chin—so small, so perfect.

“What’s his name?” Max asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We agreed on Emilian,” she said, her eyes shining. “Emilian Lucian Verstappen.”

He looked up at her, his throat tight with emotion. “You gave him my name?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. “You’re his dad. And he’s going to know how much you love him, even when you’re halfway across the world.”

Max pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “Both of you. More than anything.”

As Emilian stirred slightly in his arms, Max smiled. He’d missed the moment of his son’s birth, something he’d carry with him always. But here, holding his son for the first time, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

For two precious weeks, Max stayed home. It was just him, her, and Emilian. Those days blurred into a haze of quiet moments—feeding, changing, and rocking his son to sleep. He wasn’t just a racing legend at home; he was a father, learning the delicate art of swaddling and singing lullabies off-key at three in the morning.

His fiancée was radiant, even in her moments of exhaustion. Max found himself watching her more than ever, in awe of her strength. At night, they talked in whispers, Emilian nestled between them in a bassinet. For once, the championship felt like a distant dream.

But as the days passed, reality crept back in. The Las Vegas Grand Prix was the next race and the stakes couldn’t be higher. His rival, Lando Norris, was trailing him by just a decent amount of points, but if Max bottled it, it wouldn’t go well for his title. A strong finish could secure Max his fourth championship, but it would be a fight to the very last lap.

The night before his flight to Vegas, Max sat beside her on the couch, Emilian cradled in his arms. He had spent the entire day rehearsing his pitch, trying to strike the perfect balance of persuasion and sensitivity.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual, “Vegas is going to be a big deal. Probably the biggest race of my career.”

She glanced up from her tea, raising an eyebrow. “I thought every race was the biggest of your career.”

“This is different,” he said, grinning. “If I beat Lando by a certain amount of points, I get the title. My fourth title.”

Her smile softened. “I know. And you will. You always find a way.”

He hesitated, bouncing Emilian gently as the baby dozed. “Come with me,” he said suddenly.

Her eyes widened. “Max—”

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he cut in quickly, “and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it. But the doctors said you’re fit to fly, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Please,” he said, his voice earnest. “I need you there. Both of you. It’s an important race. The biggest one maybe. And I want to share it with my family.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. He could see the worry in her eyes, the motherly instinct to keep their baby safe and away from the chaos of the paddock. But then he reached for her hand.

“Win or lose, none of it matters without you. You and Emilian are everything to me. And if I do win... I want you there to celebrate. I want the world to see what really matters.”

After a long pause, she sighed, her resolve softening. “Fine. But only if you promise to keep us far away from the press circus until it’s over.”

He grinned, leaning over to kiss her. “Deal.”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a spectacle like no other. The bright lights, the roaring crowd, and the tension in the paddock made it a night to remember. Max felt his nerves hum as he stepped into the garage, but knowing she and Emilian were somewhere safe in the hospitality suite calmed him.

The race was brutal. Max fought tooth and nail, battling it out with Charles and Lewis in a chaotic, tire-shredding 50 laps. In the end, he crossed the line in fifth place.

For a moment, he thought it wasn’t enough. But then Christian’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Max Verstappen, you are a four-time world champion!”

Relief and joy flooded through him, and he punched the air, his voice shaking with emotion as he shouted his thanks into the radio. The garage erupted in cheers, but Max’s mind was already on her and Emilian.

As the celebrations began, he climbed out of the car, waving to the crowd before pulling off his helmet. He turned toward the pit lane and froze.

There she was, standing at the edge of the barriers, Emilian in her arms. They were both wearing ear defenders, her smile wide and proud. Emilian’s tiny shirt caught his eye, and his heart melted:

My daddy is a 4-time world champion.

He laughed, running over to them as the cameras swarmed. When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate, pulling her into a deep kiss. The crowd roared, and the cameras clicked furiously, but he didn’t care.

He looked down at his son, who blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. Carefully, Max took him into his arms, holding him close.

“Hey, little man,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “Your daddy did it.”

Emilian gurgled in response, and Max’s grin widened.

For the first time, the world saw Max Verstappen not just as a champion, but as a father. The images of him holding his son, his fiancée beside him, spread like wildfire. The press clamoured for details, but Max ignored them, too lost in the moment to care.

“This is your victory too,” he said to her, his voice quiet. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her smile radiant. “We’re so proud of you.”

As the champagne sprayed and the cheers echoed around them, Max knew this was the pinnacle of his career—not the trophy, not the title, but the family he held in his arms.

the end.

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choslut · 2 days ago

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# PUSSY TALK !! (vi x reader)

$YNOPSIS. you’ve been feelin’ a little insecure about yourself lately. good thing you have a girlfriend who’s head over heels for you, no matter what! // wc. 2.4k

warnings. insecure!reader, talk of body image + weight, face sitting, spanking (ass + clit), praise, dirty talk, stripping, oral sex, size kink (?), teasing, fingering, begging, squirting, overstimulation, mirrors, awkward aftercare, spooning, pet names

NSFW below the cut. minors, stay away. enjoy your read!

Dresses aren’t your favourite piece of clothing. They never have been and they never will be, and even as you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror of your bedroom, you absolutely hate how this dress looks on you.

When you asked for something flared that would hide your curves, you didn’t expect your tailor to make you look like an overstuffed cream puff. The flared sleeves hang off of your arms like misplaced scraps of fabric, and the material pools at your feet, surrounding you in an unceremonious circle. You look frumpy, you feel frumpy, and nothing in the world could have convinced you that this is the dress you were going to wear to the annual Councillor’s Gala.

“What the fuck…” You turn around to inspect the back, and it’s even worse than you thought. It seems as if the tailor has attempted a daring backless design, but to you, it just looks like a gaping hole, the fabric tight and loose in all the wrong places before messily accumulating just above the apple of your ass. It looks horrible, and if you weren’t insecure enough, this dress makes you feel like a laughing stock.

And that’s when the dreaded words come out of your mouth. “I seriously need to lose weight.”

Someone doesn’t like that, because out of nowhere, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin on your shoulder. “And why’s that? I think it looks perfect.”

Vi loves seeing you in dresses. She thinks they make you look so graceful, no matter what shape you choose. It solidifies the fact that you are her perfect princess, and she will never understand why you hate them when they make you look so pretty.

She also doesn’t understand this whole weight thing you have going on. If anything, one of the things that first had her on her knees for you was your body, and like now, she always feels a need to be touching it, whether it be stroking your thighs or kissing your collarbone or, like now, wrapping her arms around your perfect waist and pulling you into her chest.

“‘M not perfect though, Vi,” you grumble, hands running along the sides of your chest and resting over where her hands cradle your tummy. “I look like a creampuff.”

“Creampuffs are sweet. I like creampuffs,” she says, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror as she noses your neck. “I like you.”

You roll your eyes and whine. “I know you like me, Vi. But that’s not gonna change the fact that I hate this dress.”

“Take it off then.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like you’re not going to be stuck in it for three whole hours, playing the part of a member of high society whilst trying your hardest to ignore the obvious stares at the atrocity which is your outfit. You want to tell Vi that it seriously isn’t as easy as that, but you’re distracted by her hands slipping into the open back of your dress.

“I can help you,” she whispers in your ear, and you can feel the cold metal of her nose piercing against your heated skin. “Take it off, I mean. Relax.”

“Vi…”

“Can we try something?” She begins to kiss your neck slowly, and you whimper when you feel the rough scar on her lip brush against your heated flesh. “I know you’ve been feeling some way about your body lately, and to be honest, I have no idea why because your body is already so fucking perfect…” Her hands slide up the insides of your dress, and you lift your shoulders automatically as she slips those god awful sleeves off of your shoulders. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”

After all this time, she hasn’t broken eye contact once, and you notice her eyes go dark when she shoves the front of your dress down, only to find your perky nipples staring right back at her. “What is it?”

“Sit on my face,” she states simply, hands coming round to rub at your tits. “I want all of it, baby. Your whole body. I want you to fuckin’ suffocate me.”

You probably will. You stare at your girlfriend in the mirror incredulously, because there’s no way in the universe that you’re going to sit on her face. Not in a million years, and certainly not today. “No.”

“Give me one good reason why not.” She has a point, because it’s getting increasingly hard to refute her when her hands are making their way underneath the front material of your dress, letting it drop to the floor and revealing your regulation panties. “Go on, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t sit on my face.” Before you can open your mouth to protest, Vi smiles and bites your shoulder. “And your weight is not a valid answer.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Violet.”

“Yes, baby?” She acts like nothing is wrong, like asking you to crush her skull in between your legs a couple hours before the most important event of the year is a completely normal request. And she continues to act this way, even when she slips her hand into your panties, fingers eagerly in search of your clit. “So what I’m hearing is you don’t want to sit on my face, and you don’t want me to make you feel so good that you forget all about this stupid dress and that stupid gala?”

Your back arches into her chest when she starts rubbing your clit in small circles, lips widening into a smile as she watches you unravel against her. “That’s not what I said.”

“So why are you acting like you don’t want it?” She’s taunting you now, fingers halting all movement on your clit and sliding down lower, tips starting to tease your quivering hole. “Because I know you want it, baby. She’s telling me you want it.”

You hate how Vi can read you like a book. You do want this, but you’re worried, and she makes sure to eliminate of all of that worry by slipping her fingers into your cunt, mouth dropping open in wonder when you begin to crumple against her.

“Vi, please.”

“No.” Stubborn. “You’re not cumming unless you’re where you're supposed to be, princess. My game, my rules, and no amount of that pretty begging is gonna change that.”

You bite your lip as you feel her palm grind against your clit, fingers speeding up and continually assaulting your sweet spot. It’s so hard not to beg her to let you cum, especially with the way she’s holding eye contact with you so intensely.

“Say the words, and that orgasm’s yours,” she mumbles, smile ever present as her fingers alternate speeds. “Come on baby, I know you can.”

You can, you will, and you do. Your pleas to cum are replaced with nonsensical begging and whimpering, your hands futilely clawing at her biceps as you try to rip her fingers away from your weeping hole. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just let me cum, Vi, please-”

All of a sudden, the pressure building up inside of you dissipates, and you notice Vi licking her fingers clean as she backs towards the bed. “That’s what I like to hear,” she laughs, sitting down on the bed in a way that has you weak in the knees. “Come take a seat, princess.”

Embarrassingly enough, that’s all it takes to have you stepping out of the pool of fabric on the floor and crawling onto the bed towards her, legs planted on either side of her hips as you bend over and catch her lips in a heated kiss. It’s loud and it’s messy, her hands sliding up your thighs and onto your covered ass as you grind down onto her knee, tongue intertwining with hers in a clash of passion and need.

“Good fucking girl,” she groans, squeezing the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. “Come on, baby, c’mere, come sit.”

Your hands splay the surface of her chest as you push her back onto the bed lightly, chest heaving gently with every heated breath you take. Vi looks up at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, because to her, you are, and she wouldn’t want to be underneath anyone else.

“There she is,” she whispers as you situate yourself comfortably on her chest. “My pretty girl, huh?”

“I’m nervous,” you mumble, hips beginning to move slowly as you plant your hands on either side of her head. “I… don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” She captures your hips in her strong hands and pulls you further up her body, letting you hover just above her collarbone. “I’ve lifted this perfect body with my own two hands before. What makes you think a little face sitting will hurt me?”

In a way, she’s right. Vi is strong, more so than most people. If it got too much, she would be able to move you effortlessly, and-

You’re pulled out of your train of thought by the feeling of Vi’s nose nestling in between your legs, rubbing up against your pulsing clit under your panties. “Vi…”

“You’re thinkin’ too much, baby,” she groans, voice muffled in between your thighs. “Just do it.” This time, she doesn’t leave you any time to think, because she’s now mouthing at your cunt through your panties, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you ever closer. You gasp in surprise, one hand coming up to grip onto the headboard as you fight not to lose balance.

Another thing about Vi: she’s impatient. And when you hesitate to begin moving your hips, she does it for you, fingers pulling the seat of your underwear to one side and arms pushing you down hard.

“She’s so wet, baby, I don’t know how you can say you don’t want this.” Her tongue darts out to lick your throbbing clit and you whine, hips stuttering as you stare hazily at the mess of pink hair in between your legs. Vi is staring up at you with lust swirling in her eyes, and you can feel her smile on your cunt as her tongue slides downwards to your entrance. “I mean, she is practically begging me to eat her out. Is that what you want?”

Before you can answer her, you’re caught off guard by her hand slapping at your clit playfully, sending pleasured shockwaves throughout your system. “ ‘M not talking to you anymore, silly,” she laughs, thumbs rubbing at the area she just assaulted. “I’m talking to her, since my girl doesn’t seem to know what she wants anymore.”

“Stop it,” you grumble, but Vi pays no notice, resuming her languid licks on your pussy. Your protests are quickly turned into prolonged whines and whimpers of her name, the pressure once taken from you beginning to build in your core with each shallow thrust of her tongue into your hole.

“Not until she’s satisfied, angel.” And she means it, because the grip she has on your thighs is nothing next to lethal, and you feel yourself begin to shake as the pressure builds more and more. “And she’s getting close, don’t you think?”

She is. Your head begins to swim and you tangle your fingers in Vi’s hair in an attempt to stabilise yourself but it proves futile, mouth dropping open as you beg her to let you finish. “Vi, please, please, I’m sorry, I-”

“Nothin’ to apologise for, angel, you’re doing a great job.” You have no idea how she still manages to speak when she’s being all but crushed in the trap that is your quivering thighs, but her voice drives you ever closer, your hips grinding down onto her happily awaiting tongue as you chase your orgasm desperately. You want it- no, you need it, and when she begins to massage your ass sensually, you think you might just squirt.

“Vi...”

“Yeah, baby? Is she telling you something?” She loves playing this game, delaying your orgasm as long as possible whilst making it impossible to hold yourself back. It feels like her hands are everywhere because suddenly her thumb is massaging your clit, and you’re begging her like there’s no tomorrow.

She seems satisfied by your begging, because she takes one arm off of your thigh to use her fingers to fuck your needy cunt. “Cum for me baby, c,mon. Give it to me.”

And give it to her, do you, and in gracious abundance at that. Your juices drench her face unceremoniously as you twitch above her, spine shaking as you hold on to her hair for dear life. You’re all but riding her tongue, and she’s moaning profusely into your cunt, the vibrations only heightening your sensitivity. And try as you might, you can’t pull her away, her mouth a suction as she pushes you unforgivingly into overstimulation.

When you’re all but ready to surrender your stability to her relentless assault in between your legs, you feel a strong pair of hands lifting you off of her mouth gently, and light kisses being littered all over the expanse of your thighs. Vi’s mouth travels along your skin lazily, her powdery blue eyes looking up at your shaky form with nothing but love etched into her irises. You barely begin to register the sweet praises she gives you, instead basking in the afterglow of your intense climax mixed with the feeling of her hands stroking your back.

Moments later and you’re laying down on the bed next to her, curled in a foetal position as you fight the army of sleep threatening to overthrow you. “Are you tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you… skip the gala? Stay here with me, I’ll cook, and…”

You think the difference between the Vi laying next to you now and the Vi who made you climax to the brink of passing out is a cute one. She’s never been too good with aftercare, instead trying to make awkward conversation in an attempt to divert from the fact that she just rocked your world in more ways than one. “We can stay home. I’ll tell the organisers I wasn’t feeling too well.” That, and the fact that god awful dress made you want to bust a nerve.

Vi smiles at you gently, and you wish you could stay like this with her forever. “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”

main masterlist

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane smut #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi smut #league of legends #league of legends x reader #league of legends smut #fanfic #x reader

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visenyaism · 3 days ago

Text

Aegon Unworthy Administration Dashboard Simulator

⚔️ whiteswordtowerrr

the gold cloaks found my aegmon rpf guys it might be a while before my next update

💫 maidens-grace Follow

RIP OP this is why RPF is not only problematic (sinful against the Maiden AND the Smith) but will also literally deservedly get your skull put on a spike

⚔️ whiteswordtowerrr

I lived bitch. king aegon made me read it out loud to his brother because he thought it was funny but then he let me go. new chapter dropping in 20 minutes

#the dragonknight got all purple and furious but he did just have to stand there and take it. Just like in this next chapt- #the king did hook up with my sister afterwards though. what can you do

🍒lanadelreyene Follow

listennnnn im not saying he’s perfect im just saying liberating women from religious oppression and literal imprisonment in the maidenvault and letting his girl cousin do the economy and elevating women of all social standings to positions of prominence isnt NOTHING.

🫀tree-hearted

“king aegon is a feminist” “criston cole had hoes” you people will say anything on this website.

🛡️knighttime Follow

just saw that Daemon Waters kid like the king’s four year old bastard do a perfect standing backflip in the training yard. Kind of compelling. Kind of kingly. I don’t know…

#can prince daeron do a flip?????

🐉 rhaenyra-did-nothing-wrong Follow

It’s SO disgusting how the king would hire a H*ghtower hand only 50 years after that wretched family MURDERED HIS GRANDMOTHER AFTER USURPING HER THRONE. #UNWORTHYGATE

🪙 laenycashmoney150

Me and that nasty old man. To be honest

🌈 crystalcrowned Follow

I block everyone who is horny on main about the king on principle because fornication is a sin but op is talking about ALYN OAKENFIST?????? Girl.

🙌 fleabottomtop

Sneaking in through the secret tunnels in the red keep to smuggle queen naerys a vibrator and a blunt this shit is getting out of hand

💐 summersepta Follow

she would not like that. try again.

🙌 fleabottomtop

sneaking in through the secret tunnels in the the red keep to smuggle queen naerys a prayer book and a cigarette

🦇whentch

🐲 rogue-princess Follow

if i speak....🙈🤐

🐦‍⬛ raventreeballer-deactivated89169

FYI @ brackennation literally seduced the king to use her influence to ban pro-Blackwood posts on here. block and report this treacherous whore ASAP

🐎 brackennation-deactivated47170

I know it’s you missy. KYS jealous cunt

🎻bardalicious Follow

king aegon’s collection of teenage mistresses posting through it on the dash again

🔥 fireandwaters Follow

Sooooo sick of seeing delusional reachers reclaiming dragons**d as if that’s not a literal crownlands-specific slur used against the Valyrian-Westerosi community in King’s Landing and Dragonstone. I don’t care how many ae’s your grandma has in her name you are a HIGHTOWER you are a TARLY you are a REDWYNE you are seven forgive me for even saying this a BEESBURY. Categorically NOT a seed. It’s basically valyrian racefaking at this point

⛓️‍ gaymanpalehair Follow

Say it louder for the Great Bastards in the back!!!!!! theyre literally noble

🔥fireandwaters Follow

No I can say it?? I’m from KL I’m in the community why would it matter if I’m acknowledged

🌼 ever-sweet Follow

Seven hells my great-grandsire literally rode caraxes and I can’t acknowledge my own heritage? Dragonseed literally applies to ANY👏ONE👏of👏TAR👏GARYEN👏DES👏CENT.

🪵 kingswoody

At the rate the king is going everyone in the realm will be able to reclaim dragonseed in 20 years come on now

🐦‍⬛raventreeballer Follow

are we not going to acknowledge the toxic power imbalance of the king having had TWO Bracken mistresses and ONE Blackwood mistress????

🐚besterling Follow

THAT’S the toxic power imbalance you want to talk about??? That one??? Nothing else???

🔮hightowered Follow

okay I thought the valyrian racefaking discourse on here was dumb as shit but tell me WHY i just saw my bastard cousin serena change her name to “serenei” on all her socials and then start telling people she was from lys and can’t speak common.

#Good thing we’re dragonseeds otherwise this would be insane

🐟rainbowtrout Follow

non-riverlanders in 20 years when the Bracken-Blackwood beef becomes everybody’s problem because it’s a Targaryen civil war

🍎 fossoshethey

Quick where's that one meme about the valyrian god of prophecy playing dodgelance with random tumblr users

🎭mummersfarce Follow okay I’ll bite. did king aegon the unworthy fourth of his name do something problematic.

✨ fleabottombottom Follow

well as a dragonseed of dance-era descent i gotta say i am not appreciating how hard it is to buy purple shampoo in flea bottom recently what with the rate at which blonde bitches are being created in this kingdom fucking skyrocketing

🎭mummersfarce Follow

fucked up. blocking him now ✊

#Spotify #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #do not ask me what year in canon this is supposed to be contemporary to. its a bit all over

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no1mikasimp · 3 days ago

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I’m from India, my parents thought having a TV created ‘bad habits’ in children so we’ve never had a Television in my household, instead me and my sister had unlimited and unsupervised internet and PC privileges since kindergarten.

Once we were trying to watch Phineas and Ferb on YouTube (we heard about it from our friends) when I was in first grade and my sister in second, in the YouTube recommendations on the side it recommended us a Princess Tutu AMV. We watched it— instantly fell in ✨ love ✨ and my sister soon found a website where we could watch the entire thing aside from YouTube (Animenova was the site’s name, it’s shutdown now)

After that watching Princess Tutu we found other anime like Mermaid Melody, Mew Mew Power, Cardcaptor Sakura and by the time I was we were in 4-5th grade we had already started watching almost anime anime we could find from comment sections and recommendation lists, it was then around the time AoT released and we watched it, then my sister found an anime called Owari no Serpah (Seraph of the End) which had the same concept as AoT but with vampires and it became our fav anime for a few long years along with stuff like Magi and Railgun through Owari no Seraph and the incredibly gay sexual tension between its two male protagonists Mika and Yuu, my sister and I found ✨ Yaoi ✨ at 10-11 years of age. I initially didn’t really like it but then by the time was 11 I was consuming that shit almost every day (started with Hybrid child, Sekaichi Hatsukoi, Junjou Romantica and Super Lovers) i wanted to consume more super lovers so I asked my sis where she read her Yaoi manga and general mangas too ofc, she recommended me our god and saviour ✨ mangago ✨ from where I proceeded to read Super Lovers and got heavily confused cuz everything was highly censored and I didn’t know what sex was (growing up in a conservative society like india does that, especially when you’re a girl watching anime since first grade and have no interest in anything else) then I read Royal Servant and found out what 🎀 sex 🎀 was.

Have never looked back since.

I only watched Death Note when u was in like 7th grade, so pretty late I guess. Mainly watched it cuz I heard there was a popular shop between L and Light.

Now, I’m turning 20 in a month and over half my life has been spent being a full time weeb, and almost my half life spent reading gay people making love and holding hands.

Never could have asked for a more perfect life.

Before anyone asks,

No, my parents still don’t know what me and my sister did with that unlimited and unsupervised internet access.

Whenever my parents see me reading Ao3 and ask what it is, I just tell them I’m reading a novel and they get so proud and like, ‘we raised you two so well.’ And give themselves a pat on their backs. They don’t know. It’s so freaking funny.

I also make my mum buy me Yaoi manga and BL novels with her money and she never says no cuz ‘reading is a good habit’

I have two entire bookshelves filled with books, one half normal stuff like Rick Riordan and stuff and the other half pure BL.

That post about death note being "everyone's first anime" (untrue statement) made me curious and now I want to gather data for science

Can you reblog this and tell me where are you from and what was your starter anime?

124K notes · View notes

loulovingho · 2 days ago

Text

tags: violence (gay bashing), homophobic slurs, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, healing, heading toward getting back together, happy-enough ending

(ao3 link or read below)

Like Fine China

“Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You hear me? Try to keep your eyes open.”

He recognized that voice. The last time he'd heard it was just a few weeks ago, at the hospital. Who was it for though? Why was he at the hospital that time?

His brain felt like a jumbled mess. His body felt even worse.

He just wanted to sleep.

“Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?”

Athena! That's who was speaking to him.

He opened his mouth, cracked one eye open. God, it hurt!

“I- I'm,” the words felt foreign as they escaped him. His voice didn't sound like his own. His mouth was dry, and held a bad taste.

Whiskey and... and metal.

Blood.

“Tommy, paramedics are on their way, okay? I just need you to stay with me until they get here.”

It was dark, but something was shining bright in his face.

“Flash... Flashlight,” he managed to get out, squeezing his eye back shut.

“Eyes- Eye open, Tommy. I'll get the flashlight out of your face, but I need to know you're with me.”

Wait. Had she said paramedics? They couldn't. He couldn't let them- let him see.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled out, shaking his head a couple times until a sharp pain shot through it. “No, h- he can't. I don't-”

“They're not on shift, Tommy.”

He tried to push himself up, away from where she hovered over him. He didn't manage to get very far before she placed a hand on his chest.

“Tommy, you cannot get up. I need you to stay still, and stay conscious. Those two things are your only jobs. You hear me?”

“I can't,” his words were so garbled. He coughed up the blood that'd been dripping down his throat.

I can't let him see.”

“Listen to me, Tommy!” Athena exclaimed, getting right in Tommy's face. He could barely see her, but he could feel her breath on his face. “They're not coming. Buck isn't coming; it'll be someone else.”

In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. He didn't feel relief. Didn't feel much of anything at all. He was fading, fast. It took all his energy to force out one last sentence before he lost consciousness. “Don't... Don't tell him.”

*****

He just wanted to go out for a drink. Something a little stronger than craft beer.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Evan- no, Buck. He was Buck now.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Buck and the ache in his chest felt the same way it did the second he walked out of the loft.

He'd thought he was saving himself from future heartbreak, and maybe he was, but it didn't quite make it hurt any less.

Georgie's wasn't exactly a gay bar, but Georgie was gay and the bar itself became a sort of unofficial hang out for older people in the lgbtq+ community. No loud music and everyone left each other alone. A perfect place to decompress while still allowing yourself to be free.

After a couple of whiskey sours, and yeah, a pitcher of craft beer, Tommy was ready to go.

He waited outside, near the alleyway, for his Uber. He found himself going to his messages, hovering over Evan's name. He hadn't had the heart to change it to Buck yet.

He'd been wanting to text him since the breakup. Talk about it some more. Actually give a reason for why it- why he- fell apart so fast. How Buck's words triggered some terrible memories for him. How he suddenly realized there was no way he could be everything he thought Buck needed. Everything Buck deserved. Not to mention they hadn't even exchanged I love you's. And it was insane to think all of Tommy's things could fit in Buck's loft. Buck's things could fit in his house so much easier!

He clicked on Evan's name, started to type something out, erased it, started again, erased it again.

He was usually so aware of his surroundings. His time in the military did that to him. It did a lot of things to him actually, many of which he wasn't very thankful for. However, he prided himself on not being oblivious.

Tonight he was oblivious.

He didn't expect five men to jump him at once. He was a strong guy. Had taken on three men about fifteen years earlier. Did it with ease too.

But not five men. Not when one had a bat, and one had brass knuckles, and one was at least 6'5 and three hundred pounds. Not when they dragged him to the ground and into the alley before he had a chance to react. Screaming slurs at him as they took turns using his body as a punching bag.

He tried to fight. At one point, he was sure he kicked one of the guy's in the face. Heard him yell something like, “The fag broke my tooth!”

It only made things worse.

He wasn't sure when he first lost consciousness, but he knew they were still on top of him. Still laughing as they hit and kicked. He heard the sounds of someone spitting at some point. Felt wet on his face.

Then there was nothing.

Until someone stepped out from somewhere, and maybe they heard him groan? Maybe it was his Uber driver wondering where he was? Maybe it was an employee taking out the trash? He wasn't sure. He could barely hear someone telling him they were calling the police. There was a ringing in his ears, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Someone said something about wheezing, barely breathing. He wondered what that was about.

Then there was Athena. Then nothing again.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a dimly lit hospital room. He was confused. Could barely see out of one eye and everything was blurry out of the other.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and maybe some tiny humans hitting his brain with hammers.

“Are you... awake awake or not really awake?”

The sound of a man's voice startled him. He couldn't hardly move, but he was able to focus his eyes across the room at the figure in the corner.

“Ed- Eddie?”

God, his voice sounded weird. Why did it sound like that? Like he'd spent the last 30 years smoking a pack a day.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

He sounded hesitant. Maybe they'd had this conversation before? If they had, Tommy certainly didn't remember it.

“Wha- Why?”

Eddie stepped closer. “You're in the hospital, Man.”

Tommy wanted to roll his eyes. No duh.

He settled for clearing his throat, which turned into a burning sensation running down his chest. “Why're you... here?” he tried. Hoped Eddie understood that much.

“Tommy-”

“I t- told Athena-” he had to pause to take a breath. “Told her not to tell.”

“Actually, you told Athena not to tell him. And she assumed, correctly, I'm sure, that him was Buck. So she called me instead.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “Why?”

“Why'd she call me? Oh, maybe because you don't have anyone listed as an emergency contact and you were nearly beat to death so she figured you might need someone to be here when you woke up.”

Tommy's jaw clenched at Eddie's harsh words.

Nearly beat to death.

He was nearly beat to death.

Eddie either noticed Tommy's heart rate going up on the monitor, or his eyes filling with tears, because he was right beside his bed in two strides. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I- I'm kinda pissed, Man.”

“S'okay,” Tommy replied, swallowing hard. “I deserve it.”

Eddie looked taken aback. “No, I'm not- Tommy, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at this,” he said, gesturing over Tommy's body. “I've never seen...” Eddie's voice trailed off and, through Tommy's own blurry vision, he could see that Eddie was close to crying.

“What'd they do to me?” Tommy asked, barely able to take in all his injuries. His entire body hurt, no part any worse or less than the other. He could feel something on every limb, but he couldn't quite move his head around enough to see what it was.

Eddie took a deep breath. He wiped at his eyes with his fingers, sniffling before getting started. “You've got bruising on about seventy-five percent of your body. You had surgery for a busted kneecap on your right knee. Your left arm has a fracture, and your right one has thirty stitches, I think. They broke a few ribs, so it's gonna hurt like hell when you take a deep breath or cough. Um, you had some internal bleeding, but they got that under control pretty fast. You've got a fracture in your cheek, which may cause some extra pain when you talk. You've got a few broken fingers too, and lost a couple fingernails during your- when you were defending yourself.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed once Eddie was done. “S'that all?”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure I missed a couple things, actually, jackass.”

Tommy let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. “Thanks for coming, Eddie,” he said, trying and failing at moving himself into a slightly more comfortable position. “You don't have to stay though. I'll be fine.”

Eddie stared at him incredulously. “You're kidding me.”

Tommy shifted his eyes back in Eddie's direction. “No, I- I'll be okay. I've got it. Just,” he paused to take a breath, “don't let Buck know, please.”

Eddie raised a finger toward Tommy. “Well, see, about that. You only told Athena not to tell him before, and-”

“You didn't.”

“-and see he was already at my place when I got the call, so-”

“Please tell me you didn't.”

“I have one with cream and one with sugar and- Oh my God, you're awake!” The sound of Buck's voice had Tommy's head twisting toward the door so quickly that a pain shot from the bottom of his back all the way to the top of his head. “Ow!” he yelped, clenching his teeth and tossing his head against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh my God. Has the nurse come in yet? Have they checked his vitals? Eddie, you said he'd be out for a while! Tommy, do you feel any nausea? Do you remember who we are? The nurses said you might have-”

“Buck!” Eddie exclaimed. “Stop. He's okay.” He glanced over at Tommy, “I did forget to mention the head trauma.”

Tommy groaned, giving him a glare.

Eddie walked over to Buck and took the drink carrier from his hands. “I'll go find a nurse, you stay with him.”

Tommy wanted to yell out to Eddie to please not go, and also screw you, and maybe throw a couple hand gestures in there too. He stayed silent instead.

Buck looked Tommy up and down, hesitating slightly before walking up to the side of the bed. “So, you're-”

“I want to see myself,” Tommy blurted.

“Oh, um, I... Tommy, I don't. It might be better to wait.”

Tommy managed to move his head enough to look up at Buck. He could see the fear- no, the panic- in Buck's eyes.

“I wanna see," he repeated.

“Tommy-”

“Buck!” It took a lot of strength to get his name out so forcefully, and he didn't quite mean it to sound as angry as it did, but this wasn't Buck's decision. It was his. And he wanted to see what he looked like.

Buck pulled his phone from his back pocket, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled up the camera.

Slowly, he lifted the phone up to Tommy's face.

The second it registered that he was looking at himself, Tommy sucked in a breath. He grimaced as pain radiated through his chest but, when Buck went to move the camera away he stopped him. “No,” he said. “Just. Just wait.”

He knew his eyes were swollen by how out of focus his vision was, but he had no idea just how bad they looked. The right was worse than the left, but both were an angry mixture of black, purple, and green. The bruise on the left side of his face ran down his cheek to his jaw, circling underneath his chin like a half moon and fading into his facial hair. There were marks on his neck. Looked like someone's hand. He could understand Eddie's hesitancy on mentioning that. He didn't remember anyone gripping him there, which was probably for the best.

His forehead had more bruises, and cuts too. There was dried blood at his hairline, some stitched up cuts. His curly hair was nearly matted to his head, his scalp a brutal crimson.

“I tried to wash the blood out of your hair with a washcloth,” Buck explained anxiously, “but you have some lacerations on your scalp and I didn't want to bother them until they healed a little more.”

It was all so overwhelming. There was a whirring sound in his ears that made him feel dizzy. His eyes burned as they filled with tears that he didn't have the strength to wipe away.

“Okay,” he said, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat. “Can you- You can go, please. I don't... You can go.”

“Tommy-”

“Ev- Buck, I'm awake, I'm fine, I don't need anyone here.” He stared straight ahead, unable to look Buck in the eyes. “Please.”

“No.”

Tommy really didn't feel like dealing with stubborn Evan right now. “I don't-”

“I don't really care, Tommy. I'm not leaving you here. I've been at this damn hospital for three days now and I'm staying until you go home. I don't care what-”

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Got the nurse,” Eddie said, an awkward smile on his face. The nurse, to her credit, ignored all the tension in the room.

“Let me get some hand sanitizer and gloves and I'll be right with you, Mr. Kinard.”

Buck sighed. He stepped even closer to Tommy. “I'm gonna go into the hall long enough for the nurse to check you out,” he said, maneuvering himself until he was halfway leaning over the bed, his arm on the other side of Tommy to prop himself up as he forced him to make eye contact. “I will be back in a few minutes. You have people who care about you, Tommy, whether you like it or not.”

With that said, Buck stood back up and left the room.

*****

Tommy spent a few more days in the hospital before he was released. There were only two times that Buck left long enough to get a shower and get a little rest in a real bed. Both of those times, he made sure Eddie was there the entire time.

Athena had come in to get his statement. Asked him all sorts of questions, most of which Tommy couldn't answer. He hadn't really gotten a good look at them. Only had very basic descriptions. He remembered the slurs they had hurled at him, knew they attacked because he was gay. He couldn't really figure out how they knew though. Besides being outside of that bar, it wasn't like Tommy ever did anything that screamed gay. Not that it mattered.

She'd been honest with him. There were no cameras at that part of the street, or in the alleyway. No one got a good description of the attackers, and the person who called the police only saw their shadows as they disappeared into the night. She'd do everything she could, but it wasn't likely they'd find these men. At least, not until they did this again.

Bobby stopped by once with some homemade chicken noodle soup. Buck had to feed him every bite, which made Tommy feel like he was about to cry the entire time, but he managed half a bowl before he had to stop. It was a million times better than anything the hospital had been feeding him, and he was glad to know Bobby had put some in his freezer to give Tommy when he got home.

Chim and Maddie came one evening. He'd been asleep when they got there, woke up some time during their visit, but he kept his eyes shut until they left.

Honestly, every time someone walked through the doors he felt more and more like running out of the hospital and finding a hole to fall into. Then, if he were lucky, someone would just shovel some dirt over him and let him rest.

These weren't his people. They were Buck's people. They didn't need to be there for him. They needed to hate him. They needed to laugh at his bruises and tell him he deserved every last one. They needed to yell at him for breaking Buck's heart to try and save his own.

That'd be a lot easier than this.

Thankfully, Hen and Karen didn't come by. They did send flowers though, and a card that explained both kids had strep throat and they didn't want to risk bringing that to the hospital. They'd come by Tommy's place once he was home.

He and Buck didn't talk about anything that needed to be talked about. All the unsent messages that had swirled through Tommy's mind didn't matter right now. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of them. Right now was not the time to try and fix whatever happened between them. Right now was about Tommy healing.

*****

As soon as they got Tommy home, Buck left Eddie with him so he could go to the pharmacy and pick up his medications. When he got back, Eddie headed out to go home and rest, promising to come back later with a variety of foods that would be easy on Tommy to eat.

The silence felt more... silent at Tommy's house. It was different now that they were at home instead of a hospital with people coming in and out at all times.

Tommy needed to do something, say something, to break the silence.

“I wasn't on a date,” he muttered out as Buck organized his pain meds on his nightstand.

Buck paused briefly before getting right back to it. “Didn't think you were.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay. I just, I don't know, didn't want you to think that.”

“You go to Georgie's when your brain is working overtime and you need it to quiet down.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “I didn't know I ever told you that.”

“You didn't,” Buck replied, handing Tommy his pills and a glass of water. “I just know you.”

Tommy swallowed the pills, wincing slightly. His throat still felt scratchy even a week later. “I don't know how they knew,” he said as Buck took the water from him and set it on his nightstand.

“Who knew what?”

“Those guys that-” he stopped. “I don't know how they knew I was gay.”

“A lot of queer people hang out at Georgie's,” Buck answered. “They probably took a guess.”

The thought of it made Tommy's stomach lurch. “I've spent most of my life trying to make sure people couldn't guess.”

Buck watched him for a moment quizzically. “Tommy, you're not... You don't blame yourself for this, do you? You know this wasn't your fault, right?”

Tommy avoided eye contact with Buck. He felt so small right now. “I know I didn't do anything to provoke them.”

“That doesn't really answer my question.”

“I just... I don't know what I could have done differently. I know I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I... I should probably go to a different bar, maybe. I don't know.”

“You can't be serious right now.”

“This is everything I feared my entire life, Buck,” Tommy admitted and, God, he wished he could shut up right now. The pain pills were starting to make him a little loose lipped, mixed with him truly being alone with Buck for the first time since they broke up, mixed with an undeniable fear every time he thought about that night, seemed to make it impossible to close his mouth. “I did everything to make sure nothing like this would ever happen to me and it still did. I keep thinking about it and wondering how it could have been different. How I could have been different.”

“Tommy, can you look at me?”

Slowly, Tommy looked up at Buck, his eyes shining with tears.

“This was not your fault. There's nothing you could or should have done differently. You cannot let those five men shove you back into a closet.”

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “They're not. It's just... a lot right now.”

“I get that, I- I do. You look tired. Why don't you rest for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Buck, you don't-”

“If you tell me I don't need to stay I will force feed you bone broth when you wake up.”

Tommy shivered. “Ugh! I hate bone broth.”

“I know you do.” Buck gently pulled a pillow out from under Tommy, allowing him to lie back easier. “Close your eyes, get some rest. I'm here when you need me.”

*****

They were bound to fight sometime. Tommy had honestly expected it to happen sooner. Buck had been staying with him for three weeks now, only gone when he was working a shift. Bobby had let him work part time for now, with Carla caring for him when Buck was gone.

They'd managed to get past the initial awkwardness. Buck rambled about any and every subject he could think of. They'd watch movies together on the couch, with Tommy falling asleep halfway through due to his pain meds.

Buck would get Tommy tucked in bed, then set himself up on Tommy's floor in case he was needed during the night. Tommy had tried to insist he use the spare room, but Buck wouldn't hear of it. He knew Tommy wouldn't call for him if he needed him through the night.

Then Tommy tried to suggest he sleep in the bed. But that was a no go because, “I kick, Tommy, you know this. Do you really want another knee surgery?”

They'd been focused on Tommy getting better. And they'd been ignoring the many, many elephants in the room.

So, a fight was expected.

What wasn't expected was for the fight to start because Tommy needed to pee.

Buck had seemed a bit more on edge today, but Tommy chalked that up to a shift that ran longer than expected.

Tommy had grabbed his crutches, which he'd just been able to start using to go short distances. He still didn't quite trust himself to use them at night, but he was working toward relying on them more and relying on people less.

When he stood, Buck immediately stood with him.

“I'm fine, Buck. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

“I'll help you there.”

“I'm really fine. I can get there by myself.”

Tommy was sure he had kept his tone neutral. He definitely didn't want an argument tonight. But, before he could even make it two steps, he heard Buck scoff. “Not surprised.”

And maybe it was the full bladder making him extra bitchy, but Tommy couldn't help turning around and asking, “What's that mean?”

Buck shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing.”

“Obviously it's not nothing. If it were nothing you wouldn't have said anything in the first place. What doesn't surprise you?”

“Just you, ya know, pushing people away. It's what you do.”

“Ha!” Tommy laughed out. “If I'm pushing people away then I really suck at it because you haven't left my house in three weeks. I just need to pee.”

“I'm not talking about right now. I'm talking about me telling you that I loved you and you breaking up with me.”

How in the hell did they end up here?

“You didn't tell me you loved me, Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, unbelievably confused. The sudden change in tone caused Buck to take a step back.

He was only thrown off for a second, quick with a retort. “Of course I did!”

“No, you absolutely did not! You asked me to move in with you, but you did not tell me you loved me.”

“Wait. You asked him to move in with you?” Eddie's voice had them glaring in his direction. Both had forgotten he was even there in the first place. He raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Well, I- it was obviously implied,” Buck argued. “I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't love you.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?! You were making it sound like I was some gay hero that sewed the first pride flag! I don't even go to pride events, Evan! All the colors are far too bright and the glitter never leaves you.”

“Glitter is really annoying,” Eddie agreed.

Tommy pointed a crutch at him. “Thank you.”

“I was not trying to make you out to be some gay hero, Tommy! I was telling you that I was comfortable with you. I was telling you I wanted to spend all my time with you. I wanted us to be together!”

“You didn't even think it through, Evan!” Tommy motioned around the room. “I own a home. It comes with two bedrooms that have doors, a garage, a back yard, and two and a half bathrooms. You asked me to move into your loft.”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh, Buck.”

Buck's eyes shot over to him. “You're still here why?”

Eddie stood from his spot on the couch, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I'm going. Later.”

They both stayed silent until they heard the door open and close.

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “This is our first fight, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “It is.”

“Took us long enough.”

Tommy managed a small smile. “Probably should have fought you that night, honestly.”

“I think I would have felt better if you did.”

“Me too.” Tommy took a deep breath. “I actually really do have to pee,” he said, shifting from one crutch to the other. “Can we pause this until I'm done?”

Buck nodded. “I'll be here.”

They didn't actually fight anymore after that. It was time for Tommy to take his meds, which made him tired, and Buck was tired himself from his shift. Tommy laid in bed, Buck snoring on the floor beside him, thinking it all over. All the things he still felt like he needed to say. The unfinished business they had between them.

The fight wasn't much, but it was something.

It was enough.

For now.

*****

“Are you sure you're good on your own?” Buck asked as Tommy limped behind him toward the door.

“I'm sure. I can successfully do everything on my own now with minimal to no pain.”

Buck turned back to him quickly, eyes wide. “But there's still pain?”

Tommy smiled. “I'm fine, Evan.”

Buck didn't look so sure. “Okay, I... Okay.” Instinctively, he moved forward to wrap Tommy in a hug. He stopped himself before he got too close, but Tommy responded by opening his arms.

Buck's posture relaxed as he gently wrapped his arms around Tommy, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "I was so worried about you," he whispered in the space between them.

"I know."

“You'll call the number I gave you?” he asked.

“I already did yesterday,” Tommy admitted. “When you went out to pick up dinner. My first session is next Monday.”

“Good. That's... That's good.”

“Thank you, Evan. For everything you've done for me. You didn't have to do that.”

Reluctantly, Buck pulled himself away from Tommy.

“Did you realize you've been calling me Evan since our fight a couple weeks ago?” he asked, lips upturning into a smile.

“Oh, um,” Tommy shifted on his feet, taking the pressure off his bad knee. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Don't be sorry. I hate when you call me Buck.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I'll always- I wanna be Evan, to you.”

Tommy nodded, staring into Evan's eyes. “Okay. That's. I'd like that too.”

Buck continued toward the door, stopping again as soon as his hand touched the handle. He looked back. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you think about texting me... hit send, okay?”

Tommy had never mentioned that before. But he'd caught Buck's near-texts to him too, so it didn't quite catch him off guard. “I'm kinda a mess, Evan. I'm not as comfortable as you think I am. I'm not... I'm still figuring things out.”

“That's okay. I am too. Text me anyway.”

“Even if I'm asking you out for a coffee? So we can talk? Really talk?”

“Date and time, I'll be there.” Buck smiled softly at him as he opened the door to leave. “I'll get your order right this time.”

#bucktommy #911 #911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #there was gonna be so much more here but I needed to release it into the world #and from my mind #sorry if there are errors #i didn't get to read over it very well #let me know if I need to add more tags #I usually forget something somewhere

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my-castles-crumbling · 17 hours ago

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wine - jegulus-ish? - prompt from TTPD server's microprompt challenge - word count: 363

Sighing, Regulus stared at the rows and rows of wine, resisting the overwhelming urge to cry in the middle of the liquor store. While he felt like he knew something about wine, the pressure of selecting wine for this particular evening was so high that he felt like he might pass out. And it didn't help that he had zero guidance. James was great in most ways, but useless in others.

"Alright there?"

A calm, soothing voice broke Regulus from his panic, and he looked up to see the most motherly-looking woman he'd ever seen. From her kind smile to her genuinely concerned expression, she oozed maternal love, and made him want to melt.

"I-I'm fine," he sighed. Normally, he would have left it there, but for some reason, the warmth the woman gave off made him want to share more. "I'm just meeting my boyfriend's parents tonight, and...I'm nervous," he chuckled. "I don't do well with things like this and I think I've convinced myself if I pick the perfect wine, things will go perfectly."

Wrinkles formed in the corner of the woman's eyes as she grinned wider, and her warm hand moved to rest on Regulus's shoulder. "Do you love him, beta?"

Thinking of James, his beautiful grin, his laughter, the way he held him and loved him and made him laugh and constantly made his life better, Regulus couldn't help but smile and nod. "So much. More than anything, really."

The woman nodded like she was confirming something. "Then his parents will love you. All a good parent wants is for their child to be loved, after all. And if they don't...it's on them, not you."

Smiling softly and nodding back, Regulus sighed, his anxiety easing just a bit. "Alright. I-thank you."

"I also helps to bring a Chardonnay," she continued, reaching forward and handing him a bottle, eyes sparkling. "Now. I have no doubt that things will go well for you, but...good luck, Regulus."

He thanked the kind woman again, only realizing after he got to his car that he'd never told her his name.

He shouldn't have been shocked later to find out her name was Euphemia Potter.

The internet was a bit iffy about a translation for 'dear' in Hindi, since I had to take into account age, relationship, and gender so please correct me if I'm wrong!

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starkeyslibrary · 3 days ago

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FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 1

pairing: you x drew starkey

The sound of Drew’s laugh filled the cozy apartment as you scrolled through your phone, settling deeper into the plush couch. It was a laugh you’d heard a thousand times – warm, genuine and utterly infectious. You glanced up to see him standing in the kitchen, stirring pasta sauce in a hoodie that he’d stolen from your side of the closet weeks ago. The sigh made your heart swell.

“How’s it going?” you asked, setting your phone aside.

“Almost done,” Drew said, flashing you a grin over his shoulder. “Hope you’re ready to be impressed by my gourmet skills.”

You chuckled, pulling your knees to your chest. “If it’s anything like last time, I should probably have the takeout app ready.”

Drew pretended to be offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “That was one time! And in my defense, the oven was possessed.”

Moments like this had become your favorite part of life with Drew – quiet, intimate evenings that felt words away from the chaos of Hollywood. For all the glitz and glam of his career, Drew was just Drew with you.

As you watched him carefully plate the pasta, you couldn’t help but feel proud of everything he’d accomplished. His latest role in the Hellraiser reboot was shaping up to be a major career move. And while you knew the spotlights came with challenges, you’d always been his biggest cheerleader.

Later that night, as the two of you lounged on the couch, Drew’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at the screen, then sighed.

“It’s my manager,” he said, sitting up. “Give me a sec?”

“Of course,” you said, reaching for the remote to find something to watch.

Drew stepped into the next room, his voice low but audible enough for snippets to carry over.

“…. Press tours…. Odessa …. Chemistry angle?”

You tried to focus on the TV, but your curiosity got the better of you. Odessa A’Zion – Drew’s new co-star. You’d seen her name pop up recently in articles about the movie, paired with glowing reviews of her talent and personality. She seemed nice enough in interviews – bold and charming in a way that made you feel a little plain by comparison.

“Everything okay?” you asked, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, but his tone wasn’t convincing. “Just.. movie stuff. Our team thinks Odessa and I need to lean into the whole co-star chemistry thing for the press.”

“Chemistry thing?” you echoed, your brow furrowing.

“It’s all PR,” Drew said quickly, his hands finding yours. “They’re talking about a few staged photo ops, maybe some friendly banter during interviews. You know how it goes.”

You nodded slowly, even as an uneasy feeling settled in your chest. You did know how it went – Hollywood loved its narratives, and the lines between fiction and reality often blurred.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Drew added, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re the one I love, Y/N. Not Odessa. Never Odessa.”

You smiled softly, but the words didn’t erase the knot in your stomach.

The first set of paparazzi photos hit the internet like a wildfire: Drew and Odessa at a café, leaning across the table as if sharing a secret. Her laugh was captured mid-burst, her hand grazing his arm.

The headlines were just as dramatic as you’d feared: Drew Starkey and Odessa A ‘Zion’s Off-Screen Chemistry is Off the Charts!

You scrolled through the photos on your phone, bile rising in your throat. They were clearly staged, every angle too perfect to be a coincidence. But that didn’t make it easier to stomach.

The worst part was the comments. Fans fawned over the “new power couple”, dissecting every detail of their interactions. People who had once rooted for you and Drew now seemed eager to erase you from the narrative entirely.

When Drew came home that night, you tried to play it cool, but your unease must’ve shown.

“Hey” he said, dropping his bag by the door and crossing the room to kiss your forehead. “You okay?”

“Mmm, fine” you said, forcing a smile.

Drew studied you for a moment before glancing at your phone. His face fell as he recognized the photos.

“Y/N, I –“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, setting the phone aside. “I know it’s just PR. It’s your job.”

Drew sat beside you, his hands wrapping around yours. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said firmly. “You’re the one I come home to. You’re the one I love.”

You wanted to believe him. But as Drew kissed your temple and pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered, whispering doubts you weren’t ready to face.

TAGLIST: @princesspeach124 @idiotussupremus @eitaababe @13tter @drewsephrry @drewstarkeyzwhore @cooper8224 @maybankslover @elyseesarchive @ietss @hoelesslyt @wtfdudesblog

#drew starkey #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x oc #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #obx season 4 #outer banks #drew starkey angst #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagines #drewstarkey #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fluff

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southbynorth994 · 3 days ago

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I had no idea how my life was about to change when I asked that girl out on a simple date. Her name was Isabella. I had seen her around town, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall down her back, and her eyes—her eyes were a perfect shade of deep brown, mysterious yet warm, like a rich cup of coffee. She seemed different from the usual crowd, more reserved, but her smile could light up a room.

When she said yes to my invitation to dinner, I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world. We chose a quiet, cozy Italian restaurant on the edge of town, away from the hustle and bustle. It was the kind of place that felt like a hidden gem, with candlelight flickering on every table and a soft hum of Italian opera in the background. We talked for hours. She was charming, funny, and intelligent, and I was captivated by every word she said. She seemed so ordinary, in the best way possible, and I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that I might have just met someone truly special.

As the evening came to an end, I walked her to her car, a sleek black Audi. She thanked me for the night, her eyes sparkling, and I felt like the world was at my feet. I promised to call her again, to arrange another date soon, and she smiled, nodding in agreement.

But that’s when things took a strange turn.

The next morning, I was at work when I got a phone call from an unknown number. I almost didn’t pick up, but something told me to answer.

“Is this Brian Holden?” a low, gravelly voice asked.

“Yeah, who is this?”

“My name is Vito. Vito Romano. We need to talk.”

I froze. The name hit me like a punch to the gut. Romano. That was the name of one of the most dangerous mafia families in the city. I had heard whispers about them. Stories of violence, power, and influence. And Vito Romano? He was the patriarch—the boss.

“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered. “What do you want from me?”

“I think you know,” Vito said, his voice calm but chilling. “You took my daughter out last night.”

I felt my blood run cold. My stomach dropped. Isabella was his daughter? The girl I had taken on a date?

“I didn’t know,” I said quickly, trying to explain myself. “I swear, I didn’t know. I thought she was just a normal—”

“I don’t care what you thought,” Vito interrupted. “What matters now is how you handle this situation. My daughter was not just any girl, and you will treat her with respect, or there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

“Yes… yes, I understand,” I stammered.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Vito spoke again.

“I’ll be at your place in an hour. Be ready to speak to me.”

I hung up the phone, my heart racing. I couldn’t believe it. I had just accidentally asked the mafia boss’s daughter on a date. What had I gotten myself into?

An hour later, a black SUV pulled up outside my apartment. My doorbell rang, and I opened it to find two imposing men in dark suits standing on my doorstep. One of them was holding a leather briefcase, the other had a scowl on his face. Behind them, I saw Vito himself, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a presence that made everything around him feel small.

“Brian Holden?” he asked, his voice calm but intimidating.

“Y-yes,” I replied.

“Come with me,” he said, and without waiting for an answer, he turned and started walking toward the car. The two men followed, and I had no choice but to follow as well.

We drove for what felt like forever, the tension in the car suffocating. When we arrived at a large, gated mansion, I felt like I had entered another world. Vito led me inside, his presence commanding every inch of the grand house. We sat down in a lavishly decorated room, and Vito motioned for me to take a seat.

“I don’t know what you were thinking, taking my daughter out without knowing who she is,” Vito said, his tone softening just slightly. “But I can see that you’re not the type of man who would intentionally disrespect the Romano family.”

I swallowed hard, still in disbelief.

“I… I had no idea. I swear. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Vito studied me for a long moment before nodding. “I believe you. Isabella speaks highly of you. And in this family, that counts for something.”

I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

“So, what happens now?” I asked cautiously.

Vito smiled—a rare, approving smile. “You’ll be a part of the family, Brian. You have my blessing. But remember this: we look out for our own, and you’ll do the same. Understood?”

I nodded, my mouth dry. “Understood.”

And just like that, I found myself welcomed into the heart of the mafia—a place I never imagined I’d be, all because of a simple date with a beautiful girl.

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

#r prompts #writing prompt

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bunnys-kisses · 17 hours ago

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(ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ mad(ly in love) max｡ ⊹˚.⋆

partially inspired by this by @angldelight before it got away from me! <3

max knew you looked better in blue than red. and if you did look good in red, it was the red of the his team rather than the garish red of ferrari. he believed the statement that everyone is a ferrari fan even if they don't know it, because if they saw a photo of you, they'd have brand loyalty to the stallion for the rest of their days.

there was a reason why your face and name were everywhere in your home country. you were a pride and joy to the nation you called home. but, max was more than happy to stake a claim on you.

max liked you because you challenged him. far too many women would bend over backwards for the three time champion, but you simply glared him down with your hands on your hips. you stood toe to toe with him even if there was a height difference. but you kept your gaze steady on him.

"don't fuck me over again." you said, "or you'll regret it."

"i would never do it on purpose, princess. maybe you should watch where you are going from now on." he bite back in response. he noticed a twitch in your hand, like you wanted to grab him by the front of his driver's suit and pull him close. either for a punch or a kiss.

it would eventually lead in kisses. max liked when you were mad because then that meant he could flip the script and get ferrari's little princess on her knees with a mouthful of verstappen cock. it was honestly cute, while he wanted to dive into your sweet cunt and make your insides sticky with his cum. he'd have to make you acquainted with his size.

max verstappen was fuckin' crazy though, being involved with him was like being a deer and getting your leg caught in a trap. the type of obsession that clamped around you, dug its teeth into your fragile skin. you were so cute though, something some delicate and soft. formula one was for the toughest, the mental and physical strain of it all (that could be why he was so... off). and while max believed in you, he worried.

where you were going, who you were with. you hadn't only been in monaco for a few years and while you had the likes of charles to help you around. when he heard about men you had met, max felt something curl inside of him.

it started inauspicious. he slipped an air tag into the back pocket of your jeans while you were in your driver's room getting ready for dinner with some guy that max couldn't even remember the name of. he was all smiles as he wished you a great time.

too bad there was an issue with your car. how could you have a flat tire already, you just got the car? and when you asked your date to come pick you up, he totally ghosted you. little did you know that while you were struggling with you car, max went to meet your date and give him a few firm words. that was when the real mad max came out.

"listen mate. you're never going to give her what she needs. hell, not even what she wants. there are plenty of fish in the sea." he got a little closer to the other man, "but you can't have her."

"why?" your date swallowed.

max nodded and flashed that winning smile, "because she's mine. and i know she may have talked so nice to you. she's like that. charming. but sadly she's taken. so i think it's in everyone's best interest that you delete her number and go back to finding your perfect match." he patted the man on the shoulder like they were buddies.

"and if i don't."

max's smile only grew, "i don't like people fucking what's mine. she's taken, mate. move on." he couldn't verbalize exactly how he'd rough up the other man. he didn't want to make headlines. but there was something in his gaze that made your date high tail it out of there. your number blocked and deleted.

max then used the air tag to find you at a bar close to your flat where you were drinking away your sorrows. but, don't worry about that! max was now here to make sure that you had the best night ever. while that meant ending up drunk and curled up in his bed, but he didn't mind. he was even a gentleman and created a barrier of pillows between the two of you. no funny business. even if he wanted to. when he eventually fucked you, he wanted you conscious.

that air tag would come in handy, turns out that you wore the same pair of black levi's jeans. max was wondering if he had to get more air tags to place along other items. but, he lucked out with that one. you thought it was a strange coincidence that he seemed to be where you were.

and he'd laugh and tell you, "small city, right?"

it took months of hard work but, eventually he got to sink his pretty cock into your prettier hole. the happiest day of his life. he had invited you on his boat for the afternoon, and while he didn't expect much. he wasn't expecting your pretty tits on such display. a pretty red checkered print bikini and sandals as you stayed close to max.

and then alone, out in the waters. you ended up straddling max's waist while he sat on one of the seats up on the deck. it was couch-like and allowed you two some room as you rubbed your sweet pussy up against the front of his shorts. his hands dug into the plushness of your ass as he moved against you. you were painfully pretty, and it drove max insane. you'd try to run him off the track, but he'd always get an apology by having your pretty tits in his face and your pussy around his cock.

"you feel so good." he said, "you're so soft."

you whimpered, "i'm not that soft. you keep feeding me all this good food since i came to visit! my team is going to be pissed." you squirmed a little.

he kissed at your breasts in front of your face and laughed, "well, then. i guess i'll have to keep feeding you better food." his teeth then nipped your left breast and it made you whine. his hands continued to grope you ass and you squirmed a little more.

you didn't realize that you're movements only made him harder and he had to force himself to let go of you to take his cock out of his shorts. this was a dream come true, after months of being your little shadow.

"you know how to do this?" he asked.

you held onto his shoulders and chuckled, "yes, i've had sex before." which made something cold run through max's body, but it was quickly heated up once more when you sank down on him.

other men might had had you, but he was going to make sure you were his forever. no need to get stuffed with another man's cock, when you have max who, as he might add, can get into you quite easily. it was like you were made for him as you started to ride him. he pulled you into a kiss with one hand while he groped your behind with the other. he felt your core shiver around him as you continued to move up and down on his cock.

this only lit his need for you more. if you were so good on top, how good were you on the bottom, or at your side, or stuffed full of fingers and toys as max pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. he wanted you, he was mad for you. while he'd sometimes pull dirty tricks on the track, he had a whole other set of skills for you. because he could never hurt you on the track, too much of a risk for your safety. but he'd bruise your little pussy and cover your pretty soft breasts in large bites. he'd hope that cameras would get a good look at the pretty marks.

a lot easier to scare off men than to see a woman decorated with hickies. if he had it his way, you'd be wearing a little chain with his initials on it. or better yet, chubby little verstappen baby at your hip. the thought made something hot run through him. oh, that unlocked something in his brain as he was balls deep inside of you. he continued to leave a mess of bites on your chest as you continued to rut against him. your back arched a little when he bit one of your nipples.

"i need you to burn that bikini when we get to shore." he said between heavy pants as he grabbed your ass roughly and pushed himself up as much as he could go. his voice was a little strained from the intensity of it all.

"why?" you asked as you looked down at you.

"because, someone might get the wrong idea. and i don't want you getting hurt." he replied. it showed off far too much, too much of what belonged to him.

he rubbed up against you further. his cock poking some of your deepest parts, he wondered if he was the biggest you ever had. or if there was some other guy in another part of the world who took you apart better than him. unlikely. the way he watched you wiped drool from the corner of your mouth as you rode him made him excited.

during his time racing alongside you, he had seen you at euphoric highs of victory and deep anger when losing. but, this was a whole other look, you were far from focused. only really thinking about the cock, his cock, stuffing you full. guess there was no need to get you into his clothes and keep an air tag in your bad anymore, not when you had such a sweet look across your face.

he ran his blunt nails down the side of your thighs and felt you clench harder around his cock. which made sparks appear in the back of max's mind.

"pretty thing." he said. there was a softness to you that he wanted to sink his teeth into. especially the slight chub at your hips, next time he wanted to bite down on the skin and leave pretty bruises across it. you were just so beautiful. he thought formula one was for ugly men because they wore a helmet all the time, not pretty women who made max go insane.

you whined a little bit and started to feel yourself really get hot all over. his cock fit in you perfectly. while lust clouded your head, you honestly did think about throwing out the bikini you were wearing on board the boat. he kissed at your pulse point and you moaned, your pussy fluttered around him.

"i need that bikini gone before we get back to shore." he said.

"why, what will i wear?" you asked a little shy. you couldn't get back onto land with nothing on!

he grabbed at your ass once more and pushed you down on his cock, then held you for a moment. his lips were squared with yours as he said, "i got some extra clothes in the bedroom below deck." he knew that it was either red bull or verstappen merchandise. something that he had a lot of and could get wet.

while it wouldn't show off your pretty figure. the idea of you getting a bit chilled while heading 'home' and having your nipples poke through a shirt with his logo on it made him hotter. maybe he'll turn the ac up in the car on the drive home.

"i don't want anyone to see the bikini ever again. i'll buy you something nicer." he said as he thrusted up into you, "i don't want hungry eyes on you and neither do you. you're not a piece of meat." even though max wished to devour you, you were not meat. he'd say you were more like fruit. something refreshing and bright. something to crave on a warm day like today.

"i should have something in my bag." you said as you continued to ride him.

he held your soft hips and looked up at you, "no, no." he said then licked his top lip, "wear my clothes, they'll be more comfortable." and it'll hide your figure better.

you were the first to climax, and he managed to get you across the seat of the couch and fuck you from behind doggy style. perfect angle to make sure every last drop. you clawed at the faux leather and arched your back, your sweet noises against the sounds of the sea. your pussy clenched around him as he bullied the tip up against your cervix.

it was important for the two to get acquainted.

he finally finished inside of you and let out a sweet groan. he clenched onto your hips tightly and watched you go fully limp against the couch as you tried to catch your breath. he pulled out and gooey cum dripped out of your poor pussy. ah, it's okay. he simply pushed it all back inside of you.

with the amount he finished inside of you, you were at least 3% dutch now!

when max was finished with you, he knew that he was going to keep the little princess of ferrari. maybe eventually you'll wear the red bull logo across your pretty tits when you entered the paddock. or maybe better yet, the verstappen last name. but for now he'd simply have to stake his claim by shoving all his cum into your sweet cunt. after all it was a safer place to keep it compared to his own fist.

even with the start of the new season. his fixation of your cunt didn't end. so what you're on a different team, that didn't mean he couldn't easily go to the ferrari area and just get you to himself. when you win the first race of the season and sing along to your national anthem, max smiles in second. not because he is happy that you are winning.

but because he knew that his cum was dampening the front of your sweet cotton panties. you may have the trophy over your head, but he knew after this, he'd get another chance to sink another load in you. <3

a/n: is this anything? does anyone want more of this????

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p0orbaby · 1 day ago

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Leah and reader first kiss with leah being really nervous. Like they went on their first date & leah walks her home… really cliche I know

The air smells faintly of rain, even though it hasn’t rained all day. The pavement is dry, the streetlights casting golden reflections onto the asphalt, and Leah is walking beside you, just close enough that your arms brush every few steps. She’s been fiddling with the hem of her jacket for the past five minutes. Tugging, twisting, untwisting. You pretend not to notice, mostly because it’s adorable.

The date was perfect, or at least as close to perfect as a first date can be. Dinner at that Italian place she swore was “authentic” (it was), followed by a walk through the park where she tried to act cool but absolutely jumped when a bird startled her. You didn’t laugh—out loud, at least.

Now, you’re here, just a few metres from your flat, and Leah is… acting weird. Not bad weird, just fidgety, overthinking-every-breath weird.

“So, uh,” she says, and it’s the fifth time she’s started a sentence with so since you left the restaurant.

You glance at her, waiting. She’s looking straight ahead, but the way her jaw is set and her shoulders are tensed makes her look like she’s bracing for impact.

“Had fun tonight?” she finally asks, like she hasn’t already asked you three times.

You bite back a smile. “Still fun the fourth time you ask”

Her head snaps to you, her expression caught between horrified and amused. “I haven’t asked that many times”

“You definitely have”

“I haven’t,” she insists, and she’s so defensive about it that you can’t help but laugh.

“Relax, Leah,” you tease, bumping her arm. “I had fun. Real fun. No sarcasm”

Her shoulders drop a little, but she still looks like she’s holding her breath. It’s endearing, really—watching Leah Williamson, usually so calm and composed, turn into a bundle of nerves just because you’re standing next to her.

You reach your building, and she stops walking, standing just a half-step back, like she’s unsure if she should follow you or not. You turn to face her, raising an eyebrow.

“Walk me to the door?”

Leah blinks, then nods so quickly it’s like you’ve flipped a switch. “Yeah, sure. Of course”

The building is quiet as you approach the entrance, your footsteps echoing faintly against the stone steps. Leah shoves her hands into her jacket pockets, her fingers curling and uncurling like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

You turn to her, leaning back slightly against the door. “Thanks for tonight. I had a really good time”

“Me too,” she says, and her voice cracks just slightly on the too. She clears her throat immediately after, like she hopes you didn’t notice.

You did.

She’s staring at you now, her eyes darting from your face to the ground and back again, like she’s calculating something. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, and you can see her mentally psyching herself up.

“Leah,” you say, and her name comes out softer than you mean it to.

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re overthinking again”

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t deny it. “I’m not—”

“You are”

“I just—” She stops, exhales sharply, and then blurts, “Can I kiss you?”

You blink, surprised by her directness despite the stuttering lead-up. “Took you long enough to ask”

Her eyes widen slightly, and for a second, you think she might combust on the spot. Then she takes a step closer, her hands still firmly in her pockets, and you can feel the tension rolling off her in waves.

You lean up slightly, closing the gap between you. “Leah, I’m not going to bite”

Her breath hitches, and then she moves, dipping her head down until her lips brush yours in the lightest, softest kiss. It’s tentative at first, like she’s waiting for you to pull away, but when you don’t, she relaxes, her hand finally coming up to cup your jaw.

When you pull back, her cheeks are bright red, but she’s grinning like she’s just won the lottery. “Was that—was that okay?” she asks, her voice breathy.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around her neck. “Okay? Leah, that was better than the tiramisu”

“Wow,” she says, her grin widening. “High praise”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you tease, tugging her down for another kiss.

This time, she doesn’t hesitate.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso x reader

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russo-woso · 2 days ago

Text

Wicked || Leah Williamson x actress!reader

Masterlist | Prompt list

Summary You spent hours practicing songs, Leah having to deal with it all but as soon as she saw it all come to life on the big screen, all she felt was pride

A/N I saw wicked today and immediately thought of this idea

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It's time to try defying gravity

I think I'll try defying gravity

And you can't pull me down

You sang the words with emotion, practicing the scene and lyrics like you were filming then and there.

But instead of in a studio practicing, you were at home, scrubbing a frying pan because you’d burnt it.

You were playing the role of Elphaba in the new and upcoming movie ‘wicked’.

It was a breakthrough role for you, due to being a relatively new actress so you had to be perfect. Hence why you were practicing with every free minute you had.

There was one song though that you’d been dreading, defying gravity.

It was slightly out of your vocal range but you were determined to nail it.

So because of your determination, you were singing it fifty times a day

Which was admittedly, helping you, but it was also driving your girlfriend up the wall.

Leah had always been your biggest supporter, helping you practice lines or lyrics but this time, the non stop singing was driving her crazy.

She understood though, and each time you sang it, a small smile would appear on her face.

“How was that, baby? Did I hit the note?” You asked Leah, who walked into the kitchen.

“You were perfect, darling. You always were with the song and even more so now. So can you please stop singing it?” Leah said, walking behind you’d wrapping her arms round your waist and resting her head on your shoulder.

“I have to sing it, Le. I have to get it perfect. Now, sing it with me.” You said, a grin appearing on Leah’s face as you belted out the song.

I'd sooner buy defying gravity

Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity

And you can't pull me down

Leah just watched you in amazement, your voice sounding angelic.

“Darling, that’s the thirty seventh time you’ve sung it today. Don’t you think that’s enough?” Leah asked

“Fine. Anyway, my throats hurting a bit now.” You said, Leah laughing in response.

“I’m not surprised.”

—

It had been three days since then and you had flown out to America to film the final few scenes of the film, including the song defying gravity.

You and Ariana finished the final notes, the whole set silent, every single crew member speechless and mesmerised at the song.

It was incredible, even you could admit it.

The movie was officially over, it was all done and wrapped.

You flew back to England the following day, Leah welcoming you with open arms, whispering how proud she was.

Now, it was time for waiting.

—

It wad finally happening. The premiere.

Your leg bounce up and down on the taxi floor.

“Darling, it’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna do perfect, I know it. Everyone’s gonna love the film.” Leah said before pressing her lips to your temple. “I’m gonna be with you the whole time too.”

“I love you, Le.”

“I love you more, pretty girl. Now come, the crowds waiting.” Leah grinned, opening the car door and holding it for you to get out.

You stepped on the red green carpet, the press calling your name, telling you to look at them.

You gripped Leah’s hand, Leah squeezing yours in return, the two of you doing simple poses for the cameras.

You made your way inside, calming down a bit.

You had a few conversations with cast and crew members before finally taking your seats, the lights dimmed and the screen lit up.

Leah was already so proud even before defying gravity but my god, she was overwhelmed with pride.

You sang the words effortlessly, hitting the notes you’d spent weeks working on perfectly.

Tears shelled in Leah’s eyes as she watched you on the screen, her emotions getting to her.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You whispered quietly, wiping her tears.

“I’m just so proud of you.” Leah sobbed

You just pressed your lips to her cheek in response.

The credits started rolling, cheers filling the room.

The director of the film quickly said a few words before calling you and Ariana up to say a few too.

Ariana went first, before handing the mic to you.

“Firstly, I just want to say thank you to the crew members, without you the magic wouldn’t be able to come alive. Ariana, a big thank you to you. You made the god awful night scenes speed by. However The biggest thank you goes to someone who’s been with me for my when career. Leah, you have had to endure the torture of hearing me belt song after song for weeks. Thank you, Le. Anyway, enough of the tears now. Let’s get the after party started!”

“I know you said no more tears, but I can’t help it. I’m just so so proud of you.” Leah said, wrapping you in her arms.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you for everything over the past few months.”

“Don’t say thank you. Now, do you feel like going to the after party?” Leah asked, a smirk on her face.

“Why? Have something else in mind?”

“Maybe…”

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #Spotify

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meazalykov · 2 days ago

Text

two worlds collide

emily fox x WNBA!liberty!reader

summary: going on a date with a soccer player, especially an arsenal player, was not what you expected to do during the WNBA break

you sit at the corner table of a cozy restaurant in new york city, your fingers idly tapping against the wooden surface.

the glow of soft yellow lights overhead casts a warm shimmer over the room, glinting off polished silverware and the dark, gleaming wood.

it’s early evening, just the cusp of sunset, where the streets outside hum with the mingled voices of commuters, tourists, and the occasional street performer.

sabrina had sworn that this was the perfect spot.

“trust me,” she’d said with a sly grin, eyes glinting with a playful mischief.

“you two will hit it off.” you remember the way she had nudged your arm weeks ago, barely holding back a laugh when you asked for details.

“wait wait wait– who’s emily? what team does she play on?” you had asked, leaning back in the locker room after practice, beads of sweat still rolling down your neck from drills.

the name was unfamiliar, and your mind scrolled through every possible wnba roster. nothing.

sabrina had raised an eyebrow, tying back her ponytail.

“not an emily in the wnba. she’s a soccer girl. arsenal’s defensive player, plays for the uswnt, too.”

your breath had caught in a laugh.

“an arsenal player? you know i’m a chelsea fan.”

“and yet,” sabrina said, crossing her arms with that knowing smirk,

“you’ll survive. she’s nice. you’ll see.”

you glance at your phone now, the screen lighting up to show the time: 6:47 p.m.

emily’s supposed to be here at seven. the soft murmur of voices around you doesn’t distract you from the nervous thrum in your chest.

on the court, your playstyle might say you’re fearless on the court, storming and crossing up the other team without hesitation, but sitting here waiting for a first date feels like stepping up to the free-throw line with a championship game on the line.

the door opens, letting in a quick gust of cool air that makes your shoulders tense slightly. your eyes shift instinctively, and there she is—emily.

she’s wearing a dark denim jacket over a white t-shirt, dark brown hair pulled back in a casual ponytail that still somehow looks effortlessly styled. you’re wearing a blue sweater with blue levi jeans, somehow casual.

emily is scanning the room, eyes bright and clear, until they land on you. she smiles, a small curve that softens her sharp, athletic features, and it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“y/n?” she asks, voice smooth, accented just slightly in a way that tells you she’s been overseas for some time.

“that’s me,” you reply, standing up and offering your hand, which she takes without hesitation.

“nice to finally meet you,” emily says, slipping into the seat across from you. she moves with the ease of someone who’s spent her life in motion.

you both take a moment, the initial rush of introductions settling. you order drinks—her, a classic gin, and you opt for your usual.

as the server walks away, emily leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“so,” she starts, eyes sparkling with curiosity,

“sabrina tells me you’re a chelsea fan. should i be worried?”

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing at the playful jab.

“don’t worry,” you say, smirking.

“i won’t hold arsenal against you—at least, not tonight.”

“sounds fair,” she replies, and there’s a moment where you both smile, the warmth between you growing.

the conversation flows easily after that. you share stories about your college days at uconn—the relentless practices, the roar of packed arenas, the thrill of being drafted third overall for the liberty.

emily’s eyes light up as she tells you about growing up playing soccer until the sun dipped low and her mother would call her home.

“and after some time in north carolina–arsenal came calling since caitlin really wanted me to play with her,” she says, sipping her drink.

“wasn’t even sure i’d say yes. london felt like another world at first.”

“but you did,” you say, nodding, already picturing her on a pitch, stopping forwards with ease.

“and i did,” emily confirms, eyes catching yours with a look that lingers.

the night stretches on, the restaurant’s bustle slowing as patrons leave, and yet, you barely notice.

you talk about the upcoming olympics, how emily’s gearing up for it, and she asks if you’ll be watching.

“i’ll be cheering louder than anyone,” you say, meaning every word.

she asks why you weren’t on the basketball team representing the USA in the olympics, you said it was due to an injury scare on your wrist. she understood as a girl who had many injures herself.

by the time the server brings the check, neither of you are in a rush to leave.

outside, the city’s lights twinkle like a sea of stars, and when you step onto the sidewalk, the air feels cool against your skin.

“thank you for tonight,” emily says, and you catch the faintest hint of nerves in her voice.

you smile, hands slipping into your pockets.

“anytime.”

“next time,” she says, with a hint of mischief, “don’t wear chelsea blue.”

you look down at your sweater, noting that the blue did match chelsea’s colors.

“deal,” you laugh, already thinking about when the next time will be.

whenever the american girl comes back from london.

masterlist

#emily fox #awfc #awfc x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #uswnt x reader #uswnt players #uswnt imagine #uswnt #wnba #new york liberty

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meelusinee · 10 hours ago

Text

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT ✦ M.R x READER

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader

tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, so tamino inspired

word count: 3.7k

warnings: just fluff again! along with easily flustered mattheo (+ teasing theo)

author's note: my second post!! i made a small playlist of tamino songs i used for mattheo in this. if you haven’t, please go listen to him (his music is so good). i based this off a small part of my first fic where theo sang to reader. as always, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love.

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind.

“I found something really interesting in this book by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke.

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms.

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered.

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote.

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.”

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion.

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself.

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through.

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered.

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return.

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him.

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered.

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush.

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

“I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics.

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

#fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #theodore nott #tamino #lovesick mattheo #fluff #extra fluff #mattheo & theo teasing

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endereies · 18 hours ago

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A TOUCH I CAN TRUST - MS

No Nut November - Day 24

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ A painting brings some old memories to light when you and Matt visit the museum (sexual assault mentions - tw)

You couldn’t take your eyes off it, like it was staring back at you. You knew why.

It was so perfectly manicured, each brushstroke airbrushed to perfection. A gorgeous woman stood slightly of centre, staring at the viewer. Long brown hair that flowed past her chest and down to her hips was neatly pushed behind her ears. Even so, it left a small gap where her collarbone showed through, the highlight evident with pure titanium white. Her dress was one similar to one in your own closet, a sweet ivory. A few plaid lines just below the sewed in corset. The only difference was that this was longer, stretching to her ankles. She didn’t feel beautiful, anyone could see that on her face. The vibrant white stood against the muted colours once more, presenting a single tear. Why cry when one is so beautiful, so modest.

The man made that clear. He was centred in the frame, stood proud and confident. He was meant to be there. His hair was less neat than hers, a few curls tossed around his face. Positioned behind her, his hands grip her hips, bunches of clothing bundled around his hands. He was a man of power, the sprays of purple in his suit showing it. Proudness shone over his expressions, a mindset that was common.

That’s when you saw it, the red tints over the wrong parts of them. It wasn’t obvious unless you looked close enough, the slight pink in her clothing. Like a poorly covered mistake. Mistake? It covered her neck too, thought to be poorly interpreted lighting. Maybe it was a poorly interpreted ‘no’. his hands were covered in it, too vibrant to be a shadow.

The closer you looked at her solemn face, the more it all morphed. Her features changed. A soft button nose turning sharp, the eye colour mixing with swatches, becoming muddy. He changed too. His hair wasn’t curly anymore which now illustrated all his features, all the wrong ones. It was too familiar to ignore. How could you ignore anything about the twin etched in oils?

Your own skin grew red as you kept scratching at it, the same areas he did, begging you to ‘sit still’. Swallows grew dry in your throat, making you almost gag on the dry feeling. You just couldn’t look away. The background was blank, but the painting moved so it couldn’t be avoided. Moving your hands away from your body didn’t help, they only went to your lips, a silent barrier between your imagination. The woman twitched through your glossed eyes. God, you hated calling her that. She had a name, she is a person, real or not. She may have been a creation, but don’t creations get given titles of meaning, of value? Why was she different? Why did her name have to be connected with her past?

You didn’t dare blink. If you did, not only would you cry but without a witness, she could get hurt. Don’t be ridiculous, she wasn’t real. You were. Who was watching you? Who was watching you, except him? He stared at you again, straight forward, taunting you.

Nothing helped you feel any better, not when he was there. You were too emersed in it to notice to hot tears that flushed your face. You understood the red, it tainted your own skin. Was it comforting that someone else felt the same as you?

“Sweetheart…?” Honey seeped into your ears, soothing the tremors like a sore throat. One look at the painting and he understood, he’d seen this piece before. It was a main headline on the museum’s website when he booked tickets here. He knew the meaning and it’s all too familiar comparisons. It was easy to piece from there.

Matt didn’t want to startle you with his touch, he learnt that quickly. He needed you to ease into it, but it was hard if you didn’t know it was there to begin with. On a whim, he lightly feathered your arm, a place he didn’t know to be a trigger. Yet you still reacted.

Your body was jolted out of thought, the clench of your eyes making another tear fall. It didn’t matter that it was in public, it mattered that it was happening. Every part of you wanted to soften your body but it was just so stiff.

“Hey, breath, it’s just me, okay? Do you want to hold my hand.” Through the anxiety you sprung to grip his hand, your longer nails almost forcing into Matt’s skin. The curls of his hair returned, there was safety in Matt. He was a little shorter too. He wasn’t the same.

“Here, I just want you to relax” He didn’t dare touch you anymore than what you allowed, so he shifted his body so not only weren’t you no longer looking at the painting, but people also couldn’t look at you. “You’re safe, no one is going to hurt you.”

His comments just drew you closer to him, away from everything else. It was too much to try and focus on anything else. Why did you have to react so pathetically?

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” You scrapped any coherent syllables together.

“I know sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” You moved a hand to wipe your face, freeing your sight.

“I thought I was better, thought I moved on…” your body shrunk into itself, a shell of what you were fifteen minutes prior.

Matt’s soul crushed itself at your words, they stung so deep knowing that was how you thought of yourself. “You are better, this whole process isn’t linear, I’d be surprised if it was. You’ve come so far, kid, and I’ve seen it first-hand. You’re so amazing and you’re so strong. But you don’t have to carry this weight alone. Why don’t be grab something to eat so you can relax?”

“Yes please, thank you…” Matt replied with a squeeze of your hand, a silent sign of his devotion to you, a touch you could trust.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckers @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @zariyamitchell-blog @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @slutf4rmatt @flouvela @lovesturni0l0s @2prcntmilkluvr @ribread03

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local-lamppost · 2 days ago

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Act 3 Thoughts

Watched Wicked, came home, waited 20 minutes, binged Act 3. I do not recommend this lifestyle. Anyway...

I was so satisfied with where we ended up, but I would have also appreciated about 20 minutes to an hour more. It felt like some beats were skipped over, they wanted to get to specific endings and didn't have the time to wrap them up as neatly as I would've liked.

Maddie is a good example. She's a plant for Ambessa, okay but when and why did she become one? She couldn't have been one before Cait being named commander and when we next see her she's pushing for Cait to take power back from Ambessa. Did Ambessa just message her right after Cait and Vi started working together again as like a "the woman you love's actual love is back in the picture, you can either wallow or get revenge with me", but also made a smarmy remark about Cait 'at least being warm' or something. We didn't need to absolve Cait or villainize Maddie for their 'relationship' because they didn't even have a relationship-just a coping mechanism for Cait, similar to Vi's drinking. At best it was all unnecessary and at worst a waste of time.

Away from that, I want to focus on some good.

I am officially a JayVik shipper now. Them disappearing into a void together, encircled with each other, after Viktor spend however long within timelines/multiverses in hopes of finding a Jayce able to bring him back to his humanity? Come on, they needed to kiss. Especially after Jayce and Mel's low key break up. Honestly we were denied the three of them working together, because they would have been unstoppable.

Speaking of Mel, I love her. I love her design, her powers, her matricide, her taking command of Ambessa's armies, etc. I wish we could have seen more of her adapting to her new powers, finding peace with what she now is. There could have been a cool interaction with Viktor over how Arcane power has changed them both for better and worse.

I don't think Mel's story is done. With other characters, I can see them coming in for future story arcs as like, cameos or background details, but if the next LoL story is in Noxus I fully expect Mel to be a major player again.

Back to Jayce. I like Jayce, that could be my Arcane hot take, and I definitely want to write something more in depth on him. On all the characters really. For now, I'll just say that his determination to destroy everything he has built, because the only creation worth saving is his relationship with Viktor is just... glorious.

Viktor was amazing. I love Viktor in the lore, and they took his traits from the lore and amped them up to eleven. His body being destroyed and rebuilt, the process of which has chipped away his humanity and mutilated his dreams. He lives up to his own quote: "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right."

Ekko is a character I never realize I miss. That sounds mean, it probably is, but I am never the less so happy to see him every time. It's like finding the missing piece you didn't even know was lost: that is Ekko to me. His mini adventure in the parallel universe was adorable. Us getting to see what could've been alongside learning what matters most to Ekko, him getting a taste of a near perfect life and still choosing to return to his own time. That's why Ekko is the true hero of this story.

In terms of Jinx, I'll just say I'm not a hundred percent sure she's dead. The airship leaving at the end followed by her scribbled sign off, plus not getting a dead body shot. It was definitely left open ended. Her looking to do something good, to not mess up, alongside her fear of not wanting to try again because she is just tired of failure, of being a Jinx, was too real in many ways. I will go in depth on her at a later date.

Caitlyn's arc is going to be argued about, no question. It needed more time (see the start of this long post) to make her point of her anger burning away, of it not being sustainable, hit harder. I would have made her realize what her anger was doing to Vi, have Jinx point out that they really are acting the same in their treatment of Vi, and use the whole Ambessa was literally stoking the fires of her hatred to help fit what time they had left. Honestly just have Cait learn Ambessa was the one behind the memorial attack, that would be a much better way to explain her anger diminishing enough to look beyond her own hurt to realize and take account of her mistakes.

Vi, as usual, needed more screen time. Not necessarily because her story would've been helped by it like in act two, but just because I wanted her to have more time to enjoy her life. I went into act three with the sole hope that Vi would have a nice day, only for her to loose everything again. The only people she has left are Cait and Ekko, and god help anyone who tries something against those too now. Her ending being the chance to finally rest, to lean on someone else, was beautiful. She is my favorite character and please let her have only good things in the future, she was traumatized in almost every scene this season please-

Nobody tell Vi that in a universe where she died young everyone else ended up living. It would destroy her.

Vi and Cait relationship was great. I wouldn't say it was rushed in act three, because it felt like it was where it should be for a final batch of episodes, if that makes sense. It felt like the set up was Cait being genuinely remorseful and Vi just wanting someone in her life who wanted her in return. It helps that they have great chemistry and that when given the chance they fit so neatly together. I think Jinx encouraging Vi to be with Cait is what sold it to me. Jinx realizing how much Vi has given/sacrificed and giving her blessing for her sister to be happy with someone she disapproves of; not to mention Cait pulling the guards from their posts to give Vi the chance to actually meet Jinx in order to have that conversation. All in all, it comes down to Vi's "I don't care" because that's really all there is too it for them. Vi is done being miserable and Cait makes her happy, vice versa. Cait is someone Vi can rely on, Vi is someone Cait can find strength in.

Spitfire round:

Sevika being made a councilor

Every single one of Mel, Cait, and Jayce's designs were 10/10s

Vi not being given an actual uniform, just armor and the gloves

Jinx cutting her hair further to match Vi

Ekko getting his crystal sword/bats

Heimerdinger dying after living a life where he could make his city something to be proud of

I was fully expecting Vander and Silco to kiss in that one shot

Everything with Benzo

Loris' name being said

Vi humming the song and the song being their mother's lullaby

Viktor being held within the Herald

Sky leaving so Viktor was free to bring Jayce to his space mind palace

Caitlyn's rifle never surviving

Fishman McBlue being the only one of Cait's soldiers to stick to his guns and stay loyal

Sevika and Shoola side eyeing each other

Vander and little Vi and Powder with the bunny

The bunny being a passenger on Jinx's balloon

Singed's messed up family getting a happy ending

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