#I might not know how to reply to them but I have read them all and I'm very thankful for all the support what you guys have given me🌱

[trashytracktales]

Heyy girliee, first of all I want to say that your writing is absolutely amazing. I’ve been reading your Lando fics for the past couple of days and “endings, beginnings” had me feeling butterflies in my stomach 🫢 I wanted to ask you if you could write something about lando and reader being friends but constantly having sexual tension building up between them. Maybe they flirt with each other but never think of it as something so serious and one night after a party they completely destroy each other. I fully trust you with this and how you’ll develop the story haha and don’t hold back. Thank youuu :*

Think twice | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for the love on Endings, beginnings & I appreciate you for taking the time to share this. Hope you like it 🤍🎀

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𐙚 summary ──── What starts as a chill party, where they sit in their old habits, ends with new boundaries crossed and a heavy tension they can no longer ignore.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, friends to lovers, bit of jealous!Lando, smut, slight teasing, praising, fingering & oral (sit on it), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.8k

𐙚 date ──── Jan. 21, 2025

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THE TWO OF them are always standing next to each other, no matter the room they’re in. The context, just like the reason why this happens, is redundant. Plus, they don’t even do it on purpose; rather, they are unconsciously drawn to each other like two magnets.

The party has finally slowed to a lazy hum, the music just a tolerable background noise now. People linger in clusters around them, their voices a distant murmur blending with the faint bassline of a forgotten playlist. The living room is dim, lit mostly by the glow of a string of fairy lights drooping across the ceiling.

It was supposed to be a small gathering, but then a friend told a friend, and that friend told their friends. And now, it’s almost impossible to find a private spot to catch your breath without breathing someone else’s air.

Somehow, they did. They are tucked into the corner of a couch, their space a small bubble of comfort. Her legs are draped over his lap, bare skin warm against the fabric of his black jeans. He’s cradling her calf in one hand, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin.

Her fingers thread through his curls at the back of his head, twirling them lazily. It’s a casual gesture, but it sends a shiver through him every time she does it.

Their conversation shifted into easy gossiping about a mutual friend — someone they both think is trying a bit too hard with their Instagram posts.

“It’s fucking obvious he’s fishing for attention,” says Lando, sounding almost conspiratorial.

“I know, right? The cryptic ass captions, the mirror selfies. He thinks he’s smooth with it, too,” she replies, giggling at the thought.

Lando grins, his thumb still tracing circles on her leg. The banter feels safe, the kind of effortless connection they’ve always had. But underneath it, there’s a quiet tension that neither of them is ready to address. Because they are, maybe, a bit tipsy, or because none of them has ever had the courage to take it further, for some reason.

“Alright, I need to pee,” she announces suddenly, getting ready to stand.

But Lando tightens his grip on her legs, his lips twitching in a smirk. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” she insists, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “If I don’t go, I might pee on you.”

Lando shrugs, “Go ahead. Then I might discover a new kink,” he encourages her.

“New?” she laughs. “That implies you already have at least one.”

Lando winks at her without saying a word, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile.

She rolls her eyes, smiling back at his immature behavior. “My God. You’re actually the worst. Move.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Lando, just stares at her with an expression that’s visibly different. His usual playful gaze has shifted to something more intense, and she tells herself he’s just a little... intoxicated. Still, it makes her heart skip a beat, because he looks so adorable when his eyes focus on something so intently. And so hot, that it makes her almost forget why she wanted to get up in the first place.

“Lan, I’m not joking, I actually have to go,” she whispers, her voice softer now.

He exhales, loosening his grip but not before giving her leg a small, reluctant squeeze.

“Don’t get lost,” he says, the words carrying more weight than they should.

She shakes her head, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the hallway. Lando watches her go, his eyes trailing after her like he’s afraid she might actually not come back.

Which is ridiculous, because he should not care. There are lots of other girls that he can take home tonight if he wants to.

Want, being the keyword.

Leaning back against the couch, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s always known she was the embodiment of the perfect girl for him — funny, kind, and loyal. But tonight, there’s something else in the air that makes his mind wander. The way she carries herself, her laugh, the way she makes everything around her seem brighter.

Lando realized long ago that he wants to he in her presence. The truth hit him like a punch in the gut. And he still feels that punch sometimes, especially when he sees her interacting with other people. Especially men.

He’s had thoughts about her before. Many thoughts. Wild fantasies he brushed off as nothing more than fleeting curiosity. And they’ve joked about it, too, their drunken ‘if we’re single at 35’ pact a favorite running gag. But tonight, it doesn’t feel like a joke — he might actually marry her if she keeps letting him invade her personal space like that. Except she wouldn’t have let Lando do that if she didn’t want him there.

He finds himself smiling at his own thoughts. But then, an unwanted stiffness claws his body.

She’s on the way back when a guy leaning against the wall near the bathroom is blocking her path. He’s tall, too close for Lando’s liking, and he is gesturing animatedly. She’s always too polite, smiling as she talks, but Lando notices the way she shifts her weight, edging away slightly.

Something close to jealousy ignites in his chest, but he manages to tame the feeling by looking away, and forcing himself to take a slow sip of his drink. She can handle herself, he knows that. But he’s also ready to step in, just in case he needs to. Most men don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and he’s aware of how insistent some of them can be.

When she finally returns, Lando’s mood has shifted drastically, and she notices it the second she looks at him.

“Hey, you good?” she asks, plopping back down and swinging her legs over his lap again.

“Yeah,” he says shortly, his hand resuming its absent stroking on her shin.

Her brows knit together. “Not you lying to me. Come on, Landinho, what’s with you?”

“Nothing,” he insists, but his tone is clipped, and his eyes won’t quite meet hers.

She punches his arm lightly, trying to break through whatever wall he’s just put up. “You sure?”

He looks at her then, and the vulnerability in his gaze takes her breath away. “Sure,” he says. But his hand tightens slightly on her leg, like he’s holding onto her in more ways than one.

Her heart clenches. Lando is her friend, the one person she can always count on, but in this moment, she feels the air between them growing in different direction. It’s not the first time, and it doesn’t make her uncomfortable, but it’s not easy for her to sit in it, either.

“You’re being weird,” she states, trying to lighten the mood, but her voice wavers.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, forcing a small smile. “Just tired,” adds Lando, but there’s something he hides behind his eyes, something that makes her chest ache.

She studies his face, her teasing words dying on her lips. His eyes are heavy-lidded, the usual spark dulled by the late hour and maybe one drink too many. His movements are slow, lazy, his thumb still caressing her skin.

“I can see that,” she says gently, sliding her legs off his lap. “Up. Come with me?”

The sudden loss of contact pulls him out of his haze, “Where?” asks Lando, his voice faintly slurred with exhaustion.

“Do you trust me?” she replies with a knowing smile, standing up and extending a hand to him. “My god, Lando. My friend gave me keys to one of the rooms upstairs in case I wanted to crash.”

He hesitates, glancing at her outstretched hand before finally letting out a soft laugh and taking it.

They make their way upstairs, the faint thump of music growing quieter with each step. The room isn’t far, tucked at the end of a hallway. She unlocks the door, revealing a small but cozy space. The room is dimly lit, with a single bedside lamp casting a muted glow over the single bed that’s pressed against one wall, a small dresser, and an armchair in the corner.

Lando steps in behind her, the faint hum of the party fading as the door clicks shut. His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the space. She lingers by the door for a moment, turning the key with a soft click, locking them in; the sound feels final, and heavier than it should.

Lando notices the bed immediately, his eyes narrowing briefly before he rubs the back of his neck, a gesture that betrays his unease. His voice is low and uncertain as he says, “You know what, I can crash on the couch downstairs. It’s fine.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a small smile as she watches him fidget. “You can,” she agrees, knowing that Lando has the superpower to fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place or how loud the background noise is. “Unfortunately, I locked the door,” she adds with fake concern in her voice.

Lando glances at her, his expression caught somewhere between playful and wary. “Yeah. You can unlock it, though.”

“But I won’t,” she replies, her smile softening, her words carrying an unspoken challenge that Lando catches immediately.

His lips part, and for a moment, he says nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Then, quietly, his voice dipping lower, he says, “Then don’t.”

His words linger between them, and she feels the weight of his gaze as it shifts to her. There’s no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the lighthearted Lando she’s used to.

She lets her arms fall to her side, her pulse quickening.

Lando’s chest rises and falls steadily, though there’s a tautness to his posture. His gaze darts back to the bed, then to her, and she swears she sees a flicker of something in his eyes — fear? Desire? Anticipation?

His jaw tightens, his eyes searching hers, and she feels the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them both. Every glance, every touch, every joke that lingered a second too long — it’s all there, bubbling to the surface.

The tension between them that has simmered for months, maybe even years, suddenly feels unbearable. Lando’s eyes meet hers once again, and the quiet resolve in her gaze breaks something inside him. And then, suddenly, a glance he catches from her it’s all it takes. The restraint he’s held onto for so long snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. Before he knows it, he’s closing the gap between them, his hands cupping her face as his lips crash against hers.

She responds instantly, her hands tangling in his curls as she pulls him closer. The kiss is all-consuming, months of buried feelings and unsaid words spilling out in a rush. It’s intoxicating, a heavy blend of alcohol and the faint sweetness of her cherry lip balm. His lips are soft, impossibly so, molding against hers like they were made to fit. The taste of him is dizzying, a perfect balance of warmth and want, and each movement of his mouth sends sparks of heat rippling through her.

It’s overwhelming, the way Lando kisses her — gentle, but with a growing intensity that leaves her breathless, her heart pounding as if it’s trying to match the rhythm of his. His fingers trail down to her neck, squeezing lightly and pulling her against him as they stumble backward toward the bed.

“Do you know how long—” he begins against her lips, his voice rough with need.

“Too long,” she cuts him off with another kiss while her fingers are rushing to tug at the hem of his shirt.

Lando groans as they tumble onto the bed. Their breaths are loud and uneven, filling the small space as their lips crash together again, need and desire fueling every movement. Her palm presses against the small of his back, coaxing him between her legs. He instinctively follows her guidance, his body lowering against hers until his forehead rests on hers. At that, Lando sighs, not with frustration but a soft exasperation that halts them both.

“Are we… okay?” he asks, half-amused and half-concerned. “We shouldn’t—we should not do this. Not like this.”

She doesn’t release him, her hands still on his sides, her legs loosely wrapped around him. “We are,” she assures him, her voice calm but insistent. “It’s just us, Lando.”

His brows furrow, his lips parting in disbelief. “I know. I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and—”

Her hands move to his face, cupping it firmly and forcing him to look directly at her. “Regret it?” the girl asks, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Don’t be silly. You know this isn’t about tonight. I’ve wanted you for a while now. I know you do, too.”

His eyes flicker with something raw, and he swallows hard. “I do,” he agrees. “But. It’d be such a waste to mess it up.”

The weight of his confession settles over them, and he falls onto the mattress beside her. For a moment, they both stare up at the ceiling, their fingers brushing tentatively before intertwining. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the party faintly bleeding through the walls.

And then, “You’re such a good kisser, by the way,” she finally breaks the silence.

He lets out a chuckle, visibly affected. “You’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m already messed up because of you, Lan,” she confesses, turning onto her side, her fingers finding his arm and tracing slow patterns along its length. “I trust us. No matter the outcome.”

Her hand travels to his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his collarbone before moving to his jaw. She traces the line of it, her touch light but electrifying. Finally, her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her gaze following her movements so closely, as if she wants to devour him.

Their thoughts run wild, revisiting every stolen glance, the tension, the want — it’s always been there. Every moment brought them here.

And now?

“Do you, really?” asks Lando, his voice laced with curiosity.

She nods, her hands sliding down to rest over his, her fingers curling around his. “Completely. I trust us to figure it out as we go. Don’t you?”

He lets her words settle, a warmth spreading through his body. He does. But he still has to think twice before agreeing to something so drastic, especially when he is faced with something he wants so badly that it makes him burn with impatience.

Finally, Lando sighs, looking at her.

“It’s not a big deal, right?” she says with a quiet laugh, her voice tinged with both affection and relief. “We’ve always been good at just... being us.”

He smiles at that, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “That’s true. We’re pretty fucking great at that.”

Lando’s breathing hitches as she guides his hand to her ass, pressing it against her curves with an undeniable confidence. His grip tightens instinctively, and she drapes a leg over his waist, pulling herself closer. Their eyes lock, her fingers tracing his features, as if committing every contour to memory. They’ve never been so close to each other, and the intimacy of the moment makes his heart race, while hers almost melts under the warmth of his body.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he admits matter-of-factly.

Her lips curl into a faint smile. “Hopefully,” she whispers, her hand traveling south, to work on unbuttoning his jeans.

Lando swallows hard, his gaze darkening as he grips her tighter. “If I fuck you tonight…” his voice drops, laced with a possessiveness that makes her shiver. “I won’t be able to let another guy come anywhere near you again.”

Her eyebrows arch in surprise, finally able to put the pieces together, understanding why Lando was acting so strange earlier.

“Are you jealous, Lando?” she teases, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in her tone.

Lando’s response is silent; instead, he leans in, his lips finding the soft curve of her neck. He sucks lightly, then harder, leaving a blooming hickey that makes her gasp.

When he pulls back, his voice is firm, “No, I just want people to stay away from what’s mine.”

Her breath catches, and before she can stop herself, the word escapes her lips in a near-whisper. “Yours.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the intensity in his gaze speak for him. She pushes at his chest, making him fall back against the mattress with a soft laugh, and crawls on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips.

Impatiently, her hands work on his shirt, pushing it up his chest. “Off,” she demands, tugging until he lifts his arms and lets her pull it over his head.

His hands waste no time, slipping under her skirt and pulling at the lace of her panties. “These,” he says quickly, his breath warm against her collarbone, “are in my way.”

With a sharp pull, he slides them down her thighs, and she shivers as the cool air kisses her damp skin. She leans down, burying her face in the crook of his neck to hide her embarrassment as he guides her hips forward, her bare core pressing against the warmth of his abs. The firm ridges of muscle beneath her send a jolt of pleasure through her body, and she lets out a soft moan.

Lando’s hand tightens on her hip, his thumb brushing over her skin. “Look at that,” he breathes heavily, “What got you so excited, hm?”

She whimpers at his words, the heat pooling in her cheeks as much as between her thighs. “Don’t���” she mumbles into his neck, her voice muffled and shy.

He chuckles softly, the vibration of it against her skin making her shudder. “No, that’s so hot,” he teases, moving her hips just slightly so she drags against him. His own breath catches, and his hips shift upward, pressing the hardness of his length against her thigh. “You feel what you’re doing to me? It’s mutual.”

She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his as she lets her fingers trail down his chest. Next, she adjusts herself as her hand slides lower, brushing against the waistband of his pants before she pushes them down just enough to free him. His cock springs free, and she bites her lip at the sight of it, her own arousal growing as she reaches out to wrap her hand around him.

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and full of longing.

As she leans down to press her lips to his chest, her tongue flicking over his nipple, a sound escapes him that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She glances up again, amused. “Well,” she teases, her voice playful but sultry, “I think I just found your new kink.”

Lando lets out a weak chuckle, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her back up to kiss her. “Shut up,” he speaks over her lips, but the way his hips buck against her hand tells her she’s right. “Everything you do is my kink,” he whispers, the rawness in his voice making her heart race.

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade, and with a playful glint in her eye, her hand squeezes his cock lightly, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. “Sorry,” she giggles, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to make sure.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a smirk before his hands cup her ass firmly, pressing her harder against him. His voice is rough and dripping with need as he almost begs, “Come sit on my face.”

The unexpected plea is leaving her breathless, painting her face in confusion. “What?” she stammers, her voice nearly swallowed by the thrum of arousal coursing through her.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Lando assures her, his tone insistent, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

Without waiting for her to argue, he pushes her skirt up around her waist, revealing the soft skin of her thighs, and pulls her closer to his face. She hesitates for a moment, her nerves warring with her desire, but when his strong hands guide her gently and his lips press a teasing kiss against her inner thigh, she gives in. The first swipe of his tongue against her entrance makes her gasp, her hand flying to the wall to steady herself.

Lando groans as he tastes her, the sound vibrating against her core and sending shockwaves through her body. One arm wraps tightly around her thigh, anchoring her to him, while his free hand drifts down to his cock, stroking himself in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. Her moans spill into the air, mixing with his as Lando’s mouth works her over like a man starved, warm and wet and utterly relentless.

“Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaky as the intensity builds. Her hips jerk against his mouth instinctively, and he responds by pulling her even closer, burying his face deeper between her legs.

His tongue flicks, swirls, and presses in all the right places, and she can barely keep herself upright. She has to press both of her palms on the wall, but even then it’s not enough to keep her grounded. Not when Lando laps at her clit, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still as her body begins to tremble.

“You taste so fucking good,” he informs her between strokes of his tongue, his words muffled but clear enough to make her toes curl.

As her breaths turn shallow and erratic, she feels the pressure coiling tightly in her abdomen. Lando senses it, too, and his grip tightens, his movements growing more fervent. “Wanna come for me?” he asks as impatient as she is.

Before she can even process his question, her climax crashes into her like a tidal wave, her thighs trembling around his head as her moans echo through the room. Lando doesn’t stop, his mouth and tongue coaxing her through every pulse and tremor until she’s gasping for air.

In one swift, effortless motion, he pulls her down onto the bed and flips her over, positioning himself above her. His lips are slick, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust as he pumps two fingers into her, the wet heat of her still clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his thumb brushing against her sensitive clit as his fingers curl inside. “Let me feel you.”

Her body arches off the bed as another wave of pleasure crests over her, Lando’s name spilling from her lips in breathless cries. The sheer intensity of his touch and the quickness of it all leave her spinning, her mind barely able to keep up as he drives her over the edge once more.

By the time her breathing begins to steady, Lando leans down, his lips brushing hers in a lingering kiss, tasting her satisfaction on his tongue. He grins against her mouth, utterly smug but entirely captivated.

“See how fucking delicious you are?” he whispers, and she can only nod, still lost in the aftermath of him unraveling her completely.

Seeing the pleasure etched across her face, Lando can barely hold it together. His hands tremble slightly as he shoves his jeans and boxers down for good, freeing himself at last. His cock, heavy and flushed, rests against her thigh, the warmth of her skin giving him goosebumps. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers as he pauses for just a moment, meeting her gaze with a mix of vulnerability and pure lust.

“Are we really gonna do this?” asks Lando, his voice hiding too much desire under its raspy tone.

His eyes search hers, looking for any hint of doubt. Luckily, there is none. She just nods frantically, her hands sliding down his back to cup the firm muscles of his ass.

Her touch sends electricity through him, and she guides him where she needs him most, her body arching in anticipation. “I want you. Please.”

Without breaking eye contact, he sinks into her, and the world stops for both of them. His head falls forward, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he feels her warmth envelop him, her slick heat drawing him in effortlessly. Her body opens for him so easily, so perfectly, that it steals his breath. The tension that had coiled tightly in her frame melts away as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer.

Her arms encircle his shoulders, holding him tightly while she gasps Lando’s name. Her voice is music to his ears, and he presses his forehead against hers, the connection between them both overwhelming, yet grounding. Her fingers slide into his curls, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck as her hips shift instinctively, adjusting to his size.

“God, you feel…” he trails off, unable to find the words. Instead, he lets his body speak for him, drawing back before thrusting forward again. His movements are purposeful and powerful, each one making the bed creak slightly beneath them and pushing her up and down the sheets.

Her lips part with soft cries, her fingers tightening in his hair as her body meets each of his thrusts. “Lando,” she moans, her voice full of need and adoration, spurring him on. “Yes, that feels so good. Don’t stop.”

He catches her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her sounds as his hands wander over her body. His fingers hook under the hem of her t-shirt, and he tugs it upward, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull it over her head. The sight of her bare skin, flushed and glistening, takes his breath away. Her breasts are adorned with black lace, and the contrast against her skin ignites something primal in him.

“Stunning,” says Lando just as his hand drifts to her chest, brushing over the delicate fabric.

The way she arches into his touch, her nails scraping lightly against his shoulders, drives him wild. His thrusts deepen, his hips moving with purpose as the room fills with the sounds of their bodies meeting, her moans, and his ragged breaths.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps. His jaw clenches as he feels her tightening around him. “You’re killing me. So tight and—”

Before he can finish, she pulls him into a kiss. It’s shallow, their lips barely meeting as they breathe each other’s air. Her nails dig into his back, her legs trembling as she holds him as close as humanly possible.

“You’re so good, Lando,” she murmurs, her voice quivering, her praise like gasoline on his fire. “My favorite boy.”

Her words send him over the edge of control, his hips stuttering as he thrusts deep inside her, feeling her walls begin to flutter and clench around his cock. Her back arches, her head burying into the pillow as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Again.

Her moans are unfiltered, and she clutches him like he’s her lifeline, while Lando stills inside her, groaning low and long as her body grips him so tightly that knocks the air out of his lungs. He presses his forehead against her chest, their breaths hurried as her aftershocks pulse around him so sweetly. Her nails scrape lightly down his back, grounding them both, continuing to whisper his name like a prayer.

It’s enough for Lando to surrender to his own orgasm, his body trembling as wave after wave of release takes him over. He stays buried inside her, unwilling to part just yet. The warm tightness around him makes him shudder, his hand gripping her thigh to anchor himself.

When he finally pulls out, he hesitates before pressing his knee between her legs, feeling the slick warmth of their combined arousal smearing against his skin. She squirms against him, her overstimulated body trembling, her hips shifting involuntarily as aftershocks ripple through her.

Lando watches her, his eyes dark with satisfaction, his voice husky as he whispers, “Forget 35. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

She exhales sharply, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I’m down,” she teases, her tone light but affectionate. “Let’s book the venue now.”

He looks at her, gaze softening, filled with something deeper as he reaches behind her and, with one measured motion, unclasps her bra. The suddenness of it catches her off guard, her eyes widening as he tosses it aside like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before she can say a word, Lando leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his shirt. He finds it, holding it up, then tugging it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame.

“Perfect fit,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against her arms as he helps her adjust it. The gesture makes her chest tighten, her heart swelling with an ache she doesn’t fully understand yet.

After that, Lando slides back into his boxers and pulls the covers over both of them. The bed is small, forcing their bodies to press together in a tangle of limbs. It doesn’t feel awkward, though. It feels like a new home, safe and peaceful.

He rests his head on her chest, his breath warm and steady against her, while his hand absently caresses her through the fabric of his shirt, his fingers brushing over her nipple. Everything about the moment feels somehow so normal, like they’ve been this way forever.

The silence stretches on, so comforting, until she suddenly breaks it with a soft groan. “I have to pee again.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[lipstick-and-libraries]

New Dorm, New Chance? Pt. 1

𓋜 Pairing: Minho (XO, Kitty) x fem! Reader

𓋜 Series: The Roommate Exchange

𓋜 Summary: You are Kitty's new Roommate, after she decided to switch Rooms to avoid Yuri and Juliana, and it's not long until you get the opportunity to meet her first roommates.

𓋜 Notes:

Hey <3

I don't know if anyone is gonna read this at all, but I decided to get back into writing, and due to Season Two coming out, I have an unhealthy obsession with XO, Kitty. So, I sat down, saw the lack of XO, Kitty fics and created a little something, I hope you enjoy! I'd be grateful for any kind of feedback

The second semester at KISS was off to a chaotic start, as usual, but for Kitty Song Covey, things were finally starting to settle down. After pleading with the principal, she’d managed to switch dorms and move in with a close friend of hers, (Y/N). It was a decision that made perfect sense—Kitty needed a break from the awkward tension of her old room, and (Y/N)’s calming presence was exactly what she needed to focus on her whirlwind of romantic and academic entanglements.

(Y/N) had been nothing short of the perfect roommate. She was effortlessly chic, deeply intuitive, and, unlike most students at KISS, refreshingly down-to-earth. Kitty often marveled at how (Y/N) could command attention without even trying. The girl had a natural elegance that seemed to enchant everyone she met.

One Saturday afternoon, Kitty left their shared dorm to meet up with Yuri to continue the search for her family. “Dae, Minho, and Q might stop by later,” she called over her shoulder. “I told them they could hang out until I’m back.”

“Got it,” (Y/N) replied, lounging on the kitchen counter with a book in her hands.

When Minho, Dae, and Q arrived at Kitty’s new dorm, Minho was mid-rant about his latest gym mishap.

“Who even uses the elliptical when the treadmill’s free? It’s practically a crime—”

“Minho,” Q interrupted, rolling his eyes. “You’ll live. Just knock on the door.”

Minho sighed dramatically before rapping his knuckles against the door. When no one answered, he opened it cautiously.

“Kitty? We’re here—”

But it wasn’t Kitty who greeted them. Instead, they were met with the sight of (Y/N) sitting on the kitchen counter, one leg crossed over the other, a book perched casually in her hands. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to frame her like a painting, catching the soft waves of her hair and the slight smirk on her lips.

Minho stopped mid-step, his usual self-assured demeanor faltering.

“Oh,” (Y/N) said, glancing up from her book. Her voice was smooth, effortlessly composed. “You must be Kitty’s friends.”

Dae offered a polite smile. “Yeah, I’m Dae. That’s Q, and… Minho.”

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes flickering briefly to Minho, who was still standing frozen by the door.

“Kitty mentioned you might drop by,” (Y/N) said, closing her book and hopping off the counter with a grace that made Minho’s heart stutter. “She’s out snooping with Yuri again, but you’re welcome to wait here.”

“Cool, thanks,” Q said, settling onto the couch. Dae followed suit, but Minho hesitated, still trying to gather his thoughts.

“She’s—” Minho started, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. He coughed, trying to sound casual. “She didn’t say her new roommate was…you know, you.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She wasn't exactly popular by any means, but she also wasn't completely unknown. She leads a couple of language and study courses, and word spread that its not only brains, but beauty too that convinced people to visit her student courses.

As the afternoon wore on, Minho found himself increasingly distracted. While Dae and Q scrolled through their phones and chatted, Minho’s attention kept drifting to (Y/N). There was something about her thsn threw him off, and not in a bad way. Where most people at KISS seemed eager to impress or compete, (Y/N) seemed content just to exist in her own world.

She didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk or flashy gestures. Instead, she moved with an easy confidence, offering the occasional witty comment that left Minho scrambling for a clever response.

At one point, she caught him staring.

“Something on your mind?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Minho flushed. “Uh, no. Just…trying to figure out what book you were reading before.”

(Y/N) held up the cover—an old, leather-bound edition of Wuthering Heights.

Minho blinked. “You’re reading…that? Isn’t it, like, super depressing?”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) countered, a faint smile playing on her lips. “And complicated. Kind of like people. You should borrow it sometime”

Minho didn’t know how to respond to that, so he settled for an awkward nod.

After an hour, Q and Dae decided to head out to grab food. “You coming, Minho?” Dae asked, already halfway out the door.

“I’ll catch up,” Minho said quickly, waving them off.

(Y/N) lead the two boys to the door, giving them the spare key Kitty had told her to give to them, and apologizes for Kitty being this late. Once the door closed, the room fell quiet.

Minho shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“So…how do you know Kitty?” he asked finally, leaning against the back of the couch.

“We met at orientation,” (Y/N) replied. “She’s…unlike anyone else. In a good way.”

Minho chuckled. “That’s one way to describe her.”

(Y/N) grabs her book and puts it away on the small shelf standing in the living room and looked at him, her gaze steady but not intimidating. “And what about you? How do you know Kitty?”

“She’s…” Minho hesitated, then shrugged. “Complicated.”

(Y/N)’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “You should know a thing or two about that, based on what i've already seen from you”

For the first time, Minho felt like someone had peeled back the layers of his carefully curated persona. Most people saw him as the charming, confident playboy, but (Y/N) seemed to see through all of that.

The turning point came when (Y/N) decided to make tea.

“Want some?” she asked, holding up a kettle.

“Sure,” Minho said, joining her in the kitchen.

As they stood side by side, he found himself relaxing for the first time all day. (Y/N) handed him a mug, her fingers brushing against his. The brief contact sent a jolt through him, but he played it off, sipping his tea like nothing had happened.

“This is good,” he said, gesturing to the tea.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) replied. “It’s an old family recipe.”

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” she said, her smile teasing.

When Kitty returned later that evening, she found Minho still in the dorm, sitting on the couch with (Y/N). They were deep in conversation, their laughter filling the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Minho said quickly, standing up. “I was just—uh—leaving.”

As he walked past (Y/N), he hesitated for a moment. “See you around?”

“Maybe,” (Y/N) replied, her tone light but her eyes warm.

After Minho left, Kitty turned to (Y/N), a knowing grin spreading across her face. “What was that about?”

(Y/N) shrugged, but her cheeks flushed slightly. “Nothing. Just talking.”

Kitty didn’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

(Y/N) gives her a grin of her own and links her arm with Kitty's.

"While we're on the topic, how'd your little date with Yuri go?"

Kitty's eyes go wide, nudging (Y/N) playfully while laughing

"Hey! I'm the one asking Questions, not you!"

That night, as Minho lay in bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N). The way she smiled, the way she seemed to see right through him, the way her laugh made his chest feel lighter.

For the first time in a long time, Minho felt something real—something that scared him but also excited him.

Part 2?

[jianwon]

Hiii! Could u do a roommate or best friend semi who secretly likes you however u have a lover so she doesn't show her feelings too much and maybe u had a fight/broke up with them so semi comforts you? You can choose how to end this! (also doesnt have to be smut)

closer than you think

sypnosis. when se-mi moves in with the y/n, their unlikely friendship grows into something deeper. as y/n faces heartbreak, se-mi’s unwavering support reveals that love might have been beside her all along.

content— roommate!se-mi x fem!reader. pure fluff. mild angst. reader has a boyfriend. emotional distress. one-sided love. mentions of squid game characters.

a/n— thank you so much for the request anon! i genuinely had so much fun writing this! i hope this meets your expectations, enjoy reading :3

wordcount. 3.2k

when se-mi first moved into the dorm apartment with you, she had no idea how much her life was about to change.

at first, their dynamic had been straightforward. se-mi was the quiet, reserved type who preferred to spend her evenings locked in her room, practicing new tunes on her bass guitar, while y/n was the friendly, energetic whirlwind who could strike up a conversation with anyone, and anywhere.

“you’re going to love it here,” you had said on your first day together, your smile radiant as you unpacked boxes together. “i just know we’re going to be the best of friends!” se-mi had smiled politely, unsure of what to expect. but as the weeks turned into months, she found herself drawn to your warmth.

you had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special. whether it was dragging se-mi to the convenience store for late-night snacks or convincing her to sing in the living room to terrible pop songs, you just had a knack for pulling se-mi out of her shell.

se-mi, in turn, became a quiet anchor in your life. she was the one who stayed up with you during stressful exam weeks, making you coffee and offering soft reassurances. she was the one who listened without judgment when you needed to vent about your problems.

somewhere along the way, se-mi realized her feelings for you had grown into something deeper. but by then, it was too late. you were already taken by someone else.

the apartment was already alive with the smell of coffee and the soft hum of music drifting from the kitchen when you stumbled out of your room, your hair a tousled mess.

“morning, sunshine,” se-mi’s voice floated over from the kitchen, smooth and calm, as if she hadn’t been awake for hours. you yawned, dragging your feet toward the source of the smell. “morning,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

se-mi stood at the counter, her sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back in a loose half-up ponytail. she was frying eggs while keeping an eye on the toaster. “you’re up early,” you noted, leaning against the counter.

se-mi glanced at her, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “someone has to keep this place running while you sleep like a log,” she teased. you stuck your tongue out. “excuse me for needing beauty rest.”

se-mi chuckled, setting a plate of toast and eggs in front of you. “you’re already cute enough. no need to overdo it.” you could feel your cheeks burn, and quickly focused on the food. “thanks," your voice barely above a whisper.

you ate breakfast together, your conversation light and easy as you talked about your plans for the day. se-mi couldn’t help but steal glances at you, who seemed to glow in the morning light.

afterward, you settled into your usual weekend routine. you dragged se-mi out to a nearby park for a walk, chattering away about a funny incident at uni while se-mi listened with a small smile.

"you’re not even paying attention!” you accused, poking se-mi’s arm. “i am,” se-mi replied smoothly. “your classmate tripped on his own shoelaces and blamed it on your laptop charger.”you laughed, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “okay, fine. you’re listening.”

the day passed in a blur of shared moments. groceries, laundry, a quick detour to your favorite café for iced drinks. everything about your routine felt natural, comforting, like pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together.

the dorm apartment was unusually still, the soft hum of the city outside the only sound filling the quiet. se-mi sat on the couch, her legs stretched out lazily as she scrolled aimlessly through her phone. her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, a faint crease forming on her otherwise calm face.

7:30 pm. you were supposed to be home two hours ago.

her thumb hovered over her phone screen, considering whether to text, but she resisted. instead, she locked her phone and leaned her head back against the couch. the silence felt heavier than usual, and though se-mi would never admit it out loud, she hated the way the apartment felt so empty when you weren't around.

both of you had planned this evening all week. pizza, your favorite show, and a late-night chat about anything and everything. se-mi had looked forward to it more than she cared to admit. but the way time dragged on hinted at what she already suspected: you weren't coming home on time.

the faint sound of keys jingling reached her ears, and se-mi immediately sat up straighter, her cool expression slipping back into place. the door clicked open, and there you were. you stepped inside, your usual cheerful energy noticeably dimmed.

“you’re late,” se-mi said, her tone light but sharp enough to convey her displeasure. she leaned back against the couch, feigning nonchalance even as her eyes lingered on your face.

you paused mid-step, a sheepish grin forming instantly. “i know, i know. i’m sorry, se-mi.” closing the door behind you, placing your bag on the counter. “my boyfriend wanted to introduce me to his friends, and, well… i couldn’t say no.”

him.

se-mi didn’t let her smile falter, though the familiar pang of disappointment twisted in her chest. she shrugged, crossing her arms casually. “it’s fine,” she replied, her tone cool, though it wasn’t. “guess the show can wait another day, it's late.”

you plopped down on the couch beside her, leaning close enough that se-mi could feel the faint warmth radiating from you. the proximity was both comforting and torturous.

"i really am sorry,” you said softly, tilting your head to meet se-mi’s gaze. “i’ll make it up to you. promise.”

se-mi chuckled, the sound low and teasing. “you always say that,” she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. her fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary before pulling away. “but i guess i can’t stay mad at you. you’re lucky you’re cute.” you laughed, cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “you’re the best, se-mi. seriously.”

se-mi simply smirked, but her heart ached in ways she couldn’t control.

this wasn’t the first time you had canceled plans because of your boyfriend, and se-mi doubted it would be the last. it had become a pattern: you would enthusiastically make plans with se-mi, only to break them at the last minute when your boyfriend demanded your time instead.

se-mi had grown used to the disappointment, though that didn’t make it sting any less. it wasn’t just about the canceled plans, it was about the way your boyfriend treated you. se-mi had seen it firsthand. the dismissive comments, the controlling behavior, the way he always seemed to chip away at your bright energy.

and yet, se-mi never said a word. she knew her place.

late at night, when the apartment was quiet and you were asleep in your room, se-mi would stare at the ceiling, imagining a different reality. one where you weren't with someone who didn’t deserve you. one where you saw her, truly saw her as more than just a friend.

but that was just wishful thinking.

it was late in the evening when your phone buzzed on the coffee table. you glanced at the screen and sighed, your shoulders slumping.

nam-gyu.

“your boyfriend?” se-mi asked, her voice neutral but her gaze sharp. you nodded, picking up the phone but hesitating before unlocking it. se-mi could see the conflict in your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” se-mi asked softly, setting her guitar down and turning her full attention to you. biting your lip, your fingers tightening around the phone. floods of ranging messages overtaking your screen.

“he’s mad at me,” you admitted. se-mi raised an eyebrow. “why?”

"i don’t know,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “he just… he says i don’t make enough time for him. that i’m always with you instead.” se-mi’s heart clenched at the words. she had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed still stung.

“i don’t understand,” you continued, voice breaking. “i try so hard to balance everything, to make him happy, but it’s never enough.”

se-mi reached out, gently placing a hand over your hand. “hey,” she said softly. “it’s not your obligation to make him happy all the damn time. if he can’t appreciate how amazing you are, that’s on him, not you.” your eyes filled with tears, and she quickly wiped them away.

“you’re always so supportive,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

se-mi swallowed hard, her heart aching for her friend. “you deserve someone who makes you feel like you’re enough,” she said quietly, her thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "i’m just tired.." you whispered, leaning into se-mi’s touch.

se-mi nodded, her hand tightening slightly. “then rest,” she said softly. “i’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.” you nodded, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

you leaned against se-mi’s shoulder, and both of you sat like that for a long time, the silence between you filled with quiet understanding.

you stared at the darkened phone screen, chest tightening with a mix of relief and ache. the quiet of your room suddenly felt suffocating, the weight of nam-gyu's words still hanging in the air. drawing in a shaky breath, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill.

for a moment, you didn’t move, your mind replaying the conversation over and over again. you had known for a long time that things between you and nam-gyu weren’t right, but hearing the words aloud "you know what? we’re done." made it all feel real in a way you weren't sure you were ready for.

a soft knock at your door broke the silence. “y/n?” se-mi’s voice called gently from the other side. “i heard you shouting from across the living room, is everything okay?”

you hesitated, fingers brushing over the phone in your lap before setting it aside. “yeah,” you said, your voice unsteady. “just… give me a minute.”

there was a pause, and then se-mi responded, her voice quieter. “i’m here if you need me.”

you closed her eyes, the tears finally spilling over. the warmth in se-mi’s words was a stark contrast to the coldness you had just experienced. you wiped your cheeks quickly, not wanting to let the weight of the conversation linger any longer than it already had.

a minute later, you opened the door to find se-mi standing there, her brow furrowed with concern. “what’s wrong?” se-mi asked, her voice soft but steady.

shaking your head, trying to muster a smile. “it’s nothing. nam-gyu and i had a fight... again."

“what did he say?” se-mi’s expression darkened slightly, her jaw tightening. “it doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, stepping aside to let se-mi in. “it’s over now. we’re over.”

se-mi’s eyes widened, and she immediately reached out, resting a comforting hand on your arm. “are you okay?” you let out a shaky laugh, brushing at her face again. “i don’t know. i think so? i mean… it’s probably for the best, right?”

se-mi didn’t respond right away. instead, she guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, sitting beside you. “if it’s what you decided, then yeah, it’s for the best,” she said firmly. “but it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.”

you nodded, lips trembling as you tried to keep yourself together. “it’s just… he made me feel like everything was my fault. like i was the reason we weren’t working.”

“he’s wrong,” se-mi said immediately, her voice sharp in a way you didn’t hear often. “you’ve done nothing but try to make that relationship work. if he couldn’t see that, that’s on him.”

the conviction in se-mi’s voice brought fresh tears to your eyes, but this time, they didn’t feel as heavy. you let out a deep breath.

“thank you..” you whispered.

se-mi didn’t reply right away, but her arm came up to wrap gently around your shoulders, holding you close. “you don’t have to thank me,” she murmured. “i’ll always be here for you, y/n. no matter what.” and for the first time that night, you felt like you could finally breathe.

"you’re going to be okay,” se-mi said, her voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded slowly, the weight on your chest easing with every word se-mi spoke. “it’s just… i gave so much to that relationship, you know?” you said, your voice cracking. “and it still wasn’t enough.”

se-mi’s hand dropped to yours, her fingers curling around it in a reassuring grip. “that’s because he didn’t know how to appreciate you,” she said, her tone firm. “you gave him everything, i've seen it all and that’s why, it's not your fault.”

your fingers tightened around se-mi’s as you let out a shaky breath. “you always know what to say,” you murmured. “that’s because i care about you,” se-mi replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “more than you realize.”

the words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. your eyes searching se-mi’s face. “se-mi…”

se-mi’s smile faltered slightly, but she held your gaze. “i just… i hate seeing you hurt,” she admitted. “you deserve to be with someone who makes you feel loved. who puts you first.”

as both of you sat there, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence, the weight of the past began to fade, replaced by the quiet, unshakable hope of something new.

over the next few weeks, se-mi devoted herself to helping you heal. she dragged you out for walks in the park, tried every café in town, and even endured cheesy romantic comedies just to see you smile again.

one afternoon, as you wandered through a small bookstore, se-mi handed you a novel. “this one’s about a girl who finally realizes the perfect person for her was in front of her all along,” she said with a sly smile.

you rolled her eyes but took the book. “are you trying to make me cry again?”

“maybe,” se-mi teased, her smirk softening into something warmer. “or maybe I’m just reminding you of something important.”

it had been months since your breakup. the apartment had regained most of its usual warmth, though there was still a lingering heaviness in the air.

se-mi had been patient, giving you space to heal while quietly supporting you in every way she could. but tonight felt different. there was a nervous energy coursing through se-mi’s veins, an urgency she couldn’t quite explain.

you were both sitting on the couch, the faint glow of the television casting soft shadows across your faces. a bowl of popcorn sat forgotten, and you were laughing at something on the screen.

se-mi wasn’t paying attention to the show. her eyes were fixed on you, her heart pounding in her chest.

“y/n.." she said, her voice cutting through the laughter. you turned to her, your smile fading slightly at the seriousness in se-mi’s tone. “what's up?” se-mi hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

she had rehearsed this moment a hundred times in her head, but now that it was here, the words felt heavy on her tongue.

“i-i need to tell you something,” she began, her voice quieter than usual. “and i need you to promise you’ll hear me out.”

your brows furrowed in concern, shifting closer to se-mi. “of course. what’s going on?” se-mi took a deep breath, her hands clenching into fists in her lap. "i like you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “more than a friend.” you blinked, your eyes widening. “you… what?”

“i've liked you for a long time,” se-mi continued, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “probably longer than i should have. but i didn’t say anything because you were with someone else, and i didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

her gaze dropped to her lap, unable to meet your eyes. “but i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way. not when i see you every day, and not when i know how much better i could treat you if you’d just let me.”

the room was silent except for the faint hum of the television. se-mi’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest. finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “se-mi… i-i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” se-mi said quickly, lifting her head to meet your gaze. “i just… i just needed you to know. and no matter what you decide, i'll still be here for you. always.”

your expression was a mix of emotions. confusion, surprise, and something else that se-mi couldn’t quite place. slowly, a small, tentative smile began to form on your lips. “you're so stupidly perfect, you know that?” you said softly, leaning closer.

se-mi blinked, caught off guard. “what?” you chuckled, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “you're always there for me. always putting me first, even when you don’t have to. it's hard not to notice, se-mi.” se-mi’s breath hitched, her heart soaring. “does that mean…?”

you raised a hand, gently brushing your fingers against se-mi’s cheek. “i don’t know yet,” you admitted, your voice tinged with uncertainty. “but i promise i'll think about it. i just… need time.”

se-mi nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “take all the time you need.” you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to se-mi’s cheek, lingering for just a moment before pulling away. “thank you,” you whispered, smiling warmly.

se-mi’s cheeks burned, but she couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. “of course.”

the days that followed were different. there was a subtle shift in the air between the both of you, a new kind of tension that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

se-mi found herself hyper-aware of every little moment. every time your hands brushed, every shared glance, every teasing comment that lingered just a bit too long. you seemed to notice it too. you started seeking se-mi out more often, your smiles softer, your laughter brighter.

your “friend” dates became more frequent, and se-mi couldn’t help but notice how you would lean into her touch just a little more than before.

one afternoon, as you sat in your favorite café, se-mi caught you staring at her. "what?” se-mi asked, raising an eyebrow. you shook her head, a small smile playing on your lips. “nothing. just… thinking.”

“about what?” you hesitated for a moment before leaning forward, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “about how lucky i am to have you.” se-mi’s heart skipped a beat, but she managed to keep her cool. “you better be,” she teased, smirking. “i'm not this nice to just anyone, you know."

you laughed, the sound warm and familiar. and for the first time in a long while, se-mi allowed herself to hope.

a/n— requests are always open!

[thebigbadbatswife]

Morning Glory

Pairing - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Summary - It’s the morning after you and Bruce confessed your love for one another and there’s only one thing on his mind.

Warnings - 18+ ONLY. Established Relationship, Age Gap, Older Man/Younger Woman, Explicit Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Morning Sex, Fluff, Bruce's POV

A/N - Part of the same 'verse as Sippin' on Sunshine but both fics are complete standalones from each other so you don't have to read that one first.

Word Count - 2.7k

When Bruce wakes up, he finds you already wide awake. You’re sitting up in bed, scrolling through your phone like he might read the newspaper at the kitchen table. He lays there for a moment, simply admiring your sleepy, dishevelled state. You’ll resist him if he ever says it outloud, insisting that you don’t because how can you when your hair is a mess and you have no makeup on, but he thinks you look absolutely radiant. 

“We made the front page again,” you tell him. Not even bothering to look up from the screen in front of you.

He sighs as he rolls onto his back and stretches, which is followed by a series of loud cracks and pops from his back and joints. It’s just another reminder of his age and all of the damage he’s done to his body over the years. As he shifts in the bed to sit up, he becomes aware of how tight his pyjama pants feel.

“What did we do this time?” he asks, settling his back against the headboard. You hand him your phone so that he can see the article. It’s a picture of the two of you from late last night. You’re straddling his lap in the car and kissing him. It’s right after you told him that you loved him for the first time. His brow furrows. Even in the middle of the night, where the streets are devoid of life, neither of you can get any privacy outside of him locking you away in a bedroom.

The headline reads: “Way more than a PR stunt.” As soon as he sees the writer, he relaxes a little. Lois Lane. Though he knows he can trust her, he still skims through the article to see what she’s written. The entire article is written in defence of your relationship and even goes as far to debunk some of the things other articles have said. He’s going to have to send her a gift basket. A big one at that.

“At least it’s the Daily Planet and not the Gazette,” he says. 

“Oh no, they posted an article as well,” you reply. 

Bruce huffs. “Let me guess, Vicki?” 

“No, it was Ryder this time.”

He huffs again. “Of course it was,” he mutters. He’s really starting to get sick and tired of all of them. 

He sets your phone down onto the nightstand, switching it to silent and placing it screen down. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, in one fluid movement, he’s dragging you down the bed and pinning you to it, fingers entwinning with yours as he holds your hands above your head. 

“I’ll call my lawyers later. For now though, I have something else on my mind.”

Bruce rolls his hips, letting you feel his morning wood press up against you. You gasp as your hips buck, creating friction that has his breath stuttering. Apparently he’s not the only one who’s woken up with a problem that needs addressing.

“Last night you were fretting about your age, yet here you are. Ready to ravage me and you’ve barely been awake five minutes,” you laugh softly.

Bruce hums as he nuzzles his face against you, just under your jaw before starting to press soft kisses to your neck. “How can I resist when I’m waking up to such a beautiful woman?” 

He pulls away and you look at him like you don’t quite believe him. Before you can try and argue against him, he’s pressing his lips against yours. Any protest of his compliment dies on your tongue as you moan into the kiss. As you two kiss, you hook one of your legs over his hip and pull him more flush against you, grinding your groin against his.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, his cock twitching in his pyjama pants.

“I’m hoping we will,” you reply, breathlessly.

“Oh, we’re not leaving this room today.”

He untwines his fingers from yours so that he can pull your shirt off. In reality it’s actually one of his shirts, but you love to steal them from him and he’s not complaining. You look damn good in his clothes, though you look even better with nothing, but some expensive jewellery on. He chucks it to the side, not caring where it falls, and his head ducks down and his mouth is already closing around one of your nipples. He swirls his tongue around the hardened bud before gently tugging on it with his teeth. The action has you gasping as your fingers run through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. He groans again, enjoying the feeling of your nails.

He litters your chest with lovebites before repeating his actions with your other breast. You won’t be wearing anything super revealing for a while. Or maybe you still will. Show off to the world who you belong to. If he ever lets you out of this bed ever again.

Bruce loves the way that you respond to him. Back arching into his touch, fingers buried in his hair, tugging ever so slightly as the softest gasps and moans leave you. Those sweet noises of yours will only grow with his head buried between your legs. That thought has him releasing your nipple and trailing kisses down your body. 

When he reaches you underwear, he smiles. The growing, dark, wet patch on the crotch evidence of how aroused you are. He inhales your scent deeply before licking a bold stripe against your clothed cunt. The taste of you soaked into the fabric has his cock throbbing with the need to be buried deep inside of you. 

Ignoring your protests, he rips your underwear off of you and discards the ruined material somewhere off to the side. You get over the ruined garment pretty quickly, spreading your legs wider and showing off your glistening pussy. Bruce swallows thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing. He settles between your legs, hands coming up to hold your hips, getting ready to dive in and devour you. He’ll have you screaming his name in no time.

A knock at the door stops him right before his mouth comes into contact with you. Irritation flares through him and glares over his shoulder, at the door. At least, whoever it is, has the decency to knock and wait.

“What is it?” he calls, his voice sharp as he refuses to hide his irritation at being interrupted.

“Mr Kent is here. He says it’s important,” Alfred’s voice calls through the door. “And I’m afraid he isn’t going to take no for an answer.”

Bruce sighs. He’s been ignoring every text and call from him all weekend so he could be with– he had promised no interruptions– so he probably should have expected this. Still, if it’s not his public persona ruining things, it’s his mask. Sitting up, you cup his face and bring him close to you, your lips just barely brushing against his own.

“Ten minutes?” you ask.

It’s not the morning, or day, he imagined the two of you having, but it’s better than leaving you both wound up all day. He’s still going to be making it up to you later though and he already has plenty of ideas on how.

“I’ll be down in fifteen,” he calls back.

“Of course, sir. I’ll let him know.”

As Alfred’s steps retreat and eventually fade into nothing, Bruce pins you to the bed again. As he kisses you, you’re shifting beneath him. Your legs coming up to either side of his hips and your toes hooking into the waistband of his pyjamas so that you can shove them down. Finally freeing his cock from its clothed prison. He helps you get rid of them the rest of the way and then he’s spreading your legs further. He grips the base of his cock and rubs the head through your folds, coating himself in your slick. Even going as far as to tease your clit which has you sharply inhaling. Then he’s burying himself inside of you, right down to the hilt in a single thrust. The moan that leaves you is loud. Loud enough that Bruce is sure that it could be heard from well beyond the confines of the bedroom, even without super hearing.

It takes everything within him not to immediately start moving. His mind focused on giving you the time you need to adjust to his size. No matter how many times you take him, he’s still a lot for you and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. You have other ideas though. You’re too impatient to wait for him this morning so you roll your hips, doing your best to fuck yourself on his cock. It makes holding himself back almost impossible.

“Brucie, please move,” you whine softly. Slowly getting frustrated with his lack of movement.

You always ask him so sweetly. Even without a time limit, how could he ever refuse you? The pace he sets to start with is a slow one. Dragging his cock along the inside of your sensitive walls, relishing in the way they flutter around him as a now quiet moan leaves your parted lips. That moan grows a little louder when he pushes back in. 

His pace grows a little bit each time that he pushes back in. Low groans leaving him, matching your moans. Your hot, wet cunt feels amazing wrapped around him, turning his brain to mush. Not enough though that he’s completely lost himself in the feeling of you. Well, not yet anyway. Give it some time and he’s sure he will.

Soon enough the sounds of skin against skin fill the room, alongside the squelching of your pussy every time he roughly thrusts back inside, growing louder and louder. You mewl beneath him, your cunt squeezing him tighter than before, drawing deep, throaty groans from him, desperately trying to stop him from leaving your warmth. With the way that you’re gripping him like a vice, he knows that he’s not going to last much longer.

“Fuck,” Bruce growls. He pulls away so he can hike your legs up onto his shoulders. The new angle has your eyes rolling into the back of your head as his cock reaches impossible deeper inside of you; turning you into a babbling mess.

He knows that you’re getting close to coming undone. After all, he knows your body like the back of his hand and he can see, and feel, all the telltale signs. The stuttering of your breathing, the tensing of your muscles, the way that your pussy squeezes him more and more, making it harder for him to pull out each time. All you need now is a little push over the edge that you’re teetering on. His thumb presses against your puffy clit, doing his best to rub it in time with his thrusts.

His name leaves you in a sob as your body clamps down on him, your cunt gushing around his cock as your orgasm soaks the sheets beneath you. The sight awakens something inside of him. Something almost primal. His pace slows only for a moment as his eyes become glued to your pussy, taking in the sight of your how your lower lips now glisten with your squirt. 

That moment ends as quickly as it started. As soon as his eyes break away from your pussy and come up to see the half lidded, fucked out expression on your face, he snaps out of his trance. His pace comes back tenfold, starting to fuck you harder and deeper than you would have thought possible. Not even giving you a chance to recover from your first orgasm as he has you headed straight toward the next one.

You’re a ball of oversensitivity, your back arching off of the bed and tears spilling from your eyes as you mewl his name. Whilst Bruce knows that he is completely and utterly pussydrunk. He’s known it for a while, how deep he is under your spell. His pace has completely lost whatever rhythm it once had. Uncoordinated and sloppy as he ruts into you, his cock growing harder and his balls getting tighter, ready to fill you to the brim.

He has half a mind to stay right here. Ignore Clark and spend the day doing what he had intended to begin with. Which involves him staying buried inside of you, keeping you stuffed with his cock and cum. If the previous weekend is anything to go by, it’s certainly something that you would not only enjoy, but deep down crave. Honestly, he craves it as well. 

His thumb stays pressed against your clit as he moves forward, almost folding you in half, so that he can kiss you. The kiss is supposed to be passionate, but ends up being sloppy and messy. It’s all tongue and teeth, but both of you are too far gone to actually care.

Your orgasm takes you both by surprise. Your moans are swallowed by Bruce as the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock, doing it’s best to milk him of every drop he has to offer, sends him over the edge with you. His own moan is deep and guttural as he keeps thrusting, pushing his cum deeper inside of you, like he’s trying to make sure it takes. 

Just as it starts to become painful for him, Bruce slumps against you, letting your legs fall off of his shoulders and back down by his side; his head coming to rest against your chest. The only sound now in the bedroom is yours and Bruce’s heavy breathing as you both come down from your highs.

You run your fingers through his hair as he presses soft kisses down the valley of your breasts and underneath them. He sighs softly, enjoying the feeling of your nails gently scratching his scalp.

Slowly, and gently, he pulls out of you and rolls off of your body, to lay down by your side. Bruce’s fingers entwin with your own once more and he brings your hand up to his mouth so that he can press a kiss to the back of it. 

His reluctance to leave has you giggling. The sound brings a smile to his face. He is being rather childish in the way that he’s dragging this out. Acting like he might never see you again once he leaves this room. Which, honestly, could be true depending on what Clark has come here to discuss. He shoves the thought away, deciding he doesn’t want to think about that right now.

“I’ll still be here when you get back,” you tell him. You free your hand from his grasp so that you can roll onto your front. Draping a leg over his body, you lean up to kiss him. It’s gentle and sweet, just like you are. When you pull away, he chases after your lips, which has you giggling again.

“Go and save the world and when you come back–” you move forward more and press your lips to his ear– “I’ll do whatever you want.” 

Bruce chuckles as his hand comes down to playfully swat you ass. You gasp and playfully hit his chest. It only encourages him as he gives your ass a squeeze as he rubs his nose against your own.

“You should be careful making such promises, princess,” he says, his voice low. “It might come back to bite you.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you reply cheekily. 

Bruce hums as he makes a move to kiss you again. In that exact moment there is a series of knocks at the bedroom door. These ones are louder and rougher. If they were a little bit harder they might forcibly remove the door from its hinges. He grumbles as you pull away and move off of him.

“You should probably go before your friend breaks the door down.”

“If he does that he can pay for it,” Bruce mutters, glaring at the door. He turns his attention back to you. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

He’s already running through the different ways that he can do that in his head. At the top of the list is another getaway, but perhaps for a week instead of just a weekend. He just needs to find someone to look after the city while he’s gone.

[midnite-c6]

i have so many different au ideas with namgyu and thanos

imagine frontman!namgyu and thanos (imagine there can be two) and timid!reader (who won a game before but wanted to stop it like Gi-hun)

frontman!namgyu and thanos who joins the game again to see their timid!reader, seeing how you’re just as shy as you were when you first played.

frontman!namgyu and thanos know you can protect yourself but they can’t help but be protective especially after seeing how shy you still are

ong the manipulation AND the mocking. foaming at the mouth, drooling. offtopic: 001 was hot asf, but this aint abt him.

frontman!thanos & nam-gyu x timid!reader imagine!! warnings: 18+, DARK content, noncon, sa, manipulation (please read at ur own risk guys D: !!!!)

god they were definitely laughing to themselves to see you try again in stopping their games, i mean, who tf r u anyway, but damn were you so cute for trying. like.. watching you last time, neither of them expected you to win, but theyre def pleased you did! and now that you joined again.. they decided to play with you and your feelings! omg you'll be saying your masterplan and they'd nod so sweetly like they trust you with all their heart :< & when you tell them to vote X, they vote X! you just can't help but be grateful since the two "sweetest" boys who seem pretty strong are on your team, (they're not, but they're definitely tag-teaming you)

ohhh you're so glad that there were truly good people in the world, or you were just too naive..and dumb.. so dumb for trusting them, trusting them SO much to let them give you one last sweet goodbye before fighting the guards during lights out..

nam-gyu wraps his arms around your waist securely, nuzzling against the crook of your neck, your back tightly pressed against his chest. thanos is on watch duty since you suggested that one person should always stay awake during lights out, they cleverly figured that one of them should keep you eeeeextra safe, and who are you to really decline the offer?

nsfw below!!-> (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠).

his warm breath tickles the exposed skin of your neck. he had always been the more 'physical' one from the two, he loves to just touch you everywhere, and you let him, i mean he's just so caring, and his past is so tragic you can't help but feel bad :<. his hand moves from your waist to your stomach, before going higher to lightly graze your chest. you squirm underneath his touch, lightly moving his hand, thinking it wasn't intentional. a few minutes later,, he'd move his hand again, this time underneath your shirt, lightly squeezing your chest, making you go wide awake! "nam-gyu.." "yeah?.." he whispers sleepily, "..i can't sleep, miss." he'd continue to tease your nipples, making them harden by his rough fingers :< "w..why are you touching me there?" you whispered so purely, you're gonna be the death if him, he hums, "why.. do you want me to touch you somewhere else?" you couldn't help but whine from the painful feeling, "n-nam-gyu.." he shushes you, "it's okay.. i'm gonna miss you. once we defeat whoever's behind these games, we might not see eachother again.." his hand quickly moved underneath your pants, slipping easily past the waistband of your panties, "but.. w.. we'll definitely see eachother again.." he groans "do you not want this?" "u-uhm.." you can't reply, distracted by his pointer finger hastily tickling your sensitive bud or how your skin feels warmer and warmer by his hot breath touching your skin everytime he exhales. "i just want to thank you, for guiding us, keeping everyone alive y'know?" you still couldn't reply. "its like..." his lips brush your skin, "..you are an angel sent from above." how could you decline??

"time's up bro- oh, shit, you actually did it." thanos looked in awe, but he'd quickly pull at player 124's jacket and take him away off of you, "fuck you." nam-gyu only replied as thanos takes his spot. he'd make you face him, seeing a "betrayed" look on your face. "oh what's wrong, baby..?" he pouted, a hand gently cupping your face. you'd stare right into his blue eyes. "don't.. don't worry, we're just both scared, like you.." you furrow your brows, what does he mean?? "i mean.. there's a chance we die tomorrow.. baby, i'll forever forget not getting a taste of you, you understand, right?" you nodded, only because you were being nice, not because you understood. he smiled.

"this'll be fast, angel." you were such an angel. really.

sorry i love nam-gyu somuch guys sorrh GETTING THRU MY DRAFTS ONE BY ONE!! WOOO!! thanos x namgyusgf!reader next!! :^

[sporadicallyanenthusiast]

First of all, let me just thank you for taking the time to explain all of these points! There were many contexts here I didn't know about and it helps make more sense of the story! So thank you so much ❤️

And the thing about Ancient Greek and color is really fascinating! Kudos to the people that first began translating the ancient texts, because oh boy! Hahaha @mari--lace also mentioned in the replies how it is not a consensus on Athena's eye color either. I've only ever heard about the "wine colored sea" point, but never had the thought to dig deeper and learn more. I am definitely going to change that hahaha There are so many interesting things to learn, no wonder so many scientists have been studying the topic for centuries.

I'll have to admit, our poor Menelaus really did suffer a lot, dear Gods. Since my first contact with him was through the Odyssey and some fandom posts, sometimes I forget Agamemnon was his brother. And yes, as much as he loved Odysseus, learning about your brother's death like that can't be easy to digest. And the timeline of how long he stayed shipwrecked was a little fuzzy to me, so it makes sense that after 7 years, his memory would be hazy! I see what you mean when you refer to it as a vision/dream now. I didn't know Aegisthus had them exiled either, so that definitely adds even another layer to the hell Menelaus' life was at that time! We talk so much about Odysseus' hardships, but oh my, poor Mene didn't catch a break either, I'm appalled 😰 I have yet to wrap my mind around the fact the the poems were supposed to be performed out loud as well. A lot of the narrative choices make way more sense when you remember that, it's not just a regular book. I suppose that is why some things sound jarring when you read it for the first time.

And yes! Oh my, I never thought the texts would be so expressive and so warm, you know? We tend to have this idea that people from different times were too cold and distant, but they were still human at the end of the day. Of course they'd be affectionate to the ones they loved! And to be honest, it reminds me of when I read Sherlock Holmes for the first time. It really caught me by surprise how Sherlock and Watson were described and how they talked about each other in such a loving way. I don't know when we stopped writing platonic relationships so beautifully like that, but it truly is a loss to modern literature, in my humble opinion.

And I had no idea about Odysseus' own prophecy! I did know he tried to avoid going to war, but I just assumed it was because he had a newborn son and wanted to be there for Penelope. In that scenario, it really is fair to point out Menelaus trying to warn them wouldn't change much. On that note, Athena herself also told Telemachus Odysseus was alive and he didn't believe her, the Wisdom Goddess hahaha I hadn't thought about that before, but it really does illustrate how hopeless all of them were. If Telemachus didn't believe Athena, you're right, he wouldn't really care about Menelaus' letter either.

I knew about the law of Xenia, so I assumed that was the only reason stopping them from sending the suitors away. I admit I was a tad bit confused why Telemachus didn't force the suitors to leave once he outright had Athena's and Zeus' blessing, so your explanation really helped me make sense of everything!

It's such a nice and sweet detail to have Telemachus and Odysseus going through their journeys at the same time (Telemachus' first journey and Odysseus' last journey, even!), only to meet again at home and taking back control of their palace together. Maybe I teared up a bit, can't deny nor confirm hahahahaha

You are still way more knowledgeable on the topic, and your academic background gives a perspective other people might not have. So I think it's fair to call you as such 🥰❤️

Oh, I see! Sorry, I'm a bit too anxious at times and end up worrying too much that I gave the wrong impression or was rude by accident hahaha

This has been a lovely discussion indeed! Once again, thank you so much for being so kind to explain everything, I'll definitely be reading the books with new perspectives and insights!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 1

Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Inspired by @beckyninja ' Titus x Reader fics and @hatsubara-8chan' s Titus x Theia art. Thank you guys for giving me the confidence and inspiration to finally do something with my own oc :)

I know x reader stuff is my forte, but it would mean so much if you guys checked this series out too. It was super fun to write and I think you all will really enjoy it.

As always, apologies for grammar and spelling mistakes. While this part is sfw, some future parts will be nsfw but I'll note that up the top. Typical 40kness and violence, also I've just gone and made up an entire og backstory for Gadriel lol.

Hope you guys enjoy! And thank you so much for reading xoxox

Love, Memestrider :)

Ellicent sobbed into his shoulder, soaking his collar and staining it dark. She'd been like this for ages; she didn't know how many, but it was enough that the grimy windows in front of them had darkened to black slabs with the disappearance of the sun and rolling in of night. She felt embarrassed by it. Ashamed. Kids down here lost their parents all the time, and her Dad had been sick for a long time. Knowing that should've made it easier, but it didn't. Her heart was still shattered. Her soul split in half by a stake of grief and anguish. She sobbed like a baby. Like a weak thing that the Underhive should and would eat alive.

But he didn't seem to mind.

His grip was as gentle as it was tight, as if he were trying to wring the sadness from her very being. He stroked her hair, rubbed her back, let her hide her face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he said. He'd said it many times before, but this one was no less genuine or earnest. Ellicent's throat ached too much to reply, so she only shook her head.Tentatively, he drew away from her. Not enough to break their embrace all together: just enough so he could look her in the eye.

"You know we have to leave him here, right?"

Swallowing another sob, Ellicent nodded. Down here, there were no medical services or law enforcement to collect the dead: there were only scavengers and cannibals. They'd find her Dad eventually, but if they kept her Dad in here, he might stay safe for a little longer.

"I know," she said. "But... but what about me? I can't- I can't stay here."He answered without hesitation or thought. "You can come stay with me."

"Wha- what?"

"I know Mum will let you. And if she says no, I'll make her. But she won't say no. I know she won't."

A dozen questions sat on Ellicent's tongue, but she was either too tired or too sad to ask. Sinking into his arms again, she wiped her eyes on his shoulder. "Okay."

"It'll be okay, Ellie. I promise, it'll be okay." Ellicent closed her eyes.

"Thank you, Gadriel," she whispered.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Remind me," Chairon says, using the box so he could be heard over the rumble of the Thunderhawk. "Which xenos is our target supposedly allied with?"

Gadriel checks the slide of his bolter for the umpteenth time.

"The dark eldar," he replies. "Specifically, the pack that has made this planet their favoured hunting ground."

"What about the necrons?"

"What about them?"

"Did the briefing not state that Severus' gang often makes use of necron technology?"

"It did," Gadriel says. "But that technology is stolen. Pillaged from only the Emperor knows where."

Through the static of the vox, Chairon's scowl sounds particularly vicious. "Damned heretics. Have they no pride or dignity to speak of at all?"

"Of course they don't."

Gadriel looks to his left where Titus sits beside him. Like his and Chairon's, the face of the lieutenant's helm is cast as a mouthless, red eyed glare. Somehow, though, Titus' glare appears even more intimidating.

"Creatures like Severus are among the worst kind of heretic," he says. "Chaos can corrupt the unwilling. Mutancy can affect the innocent. But to work with the alien? To turn one's back on their own species? That is a choice. One that is made willingly, without coercion or subterfuge.

"An uneasy silence settles across the vox. For a long while, the only sound comes from the roar of the Thunderhawk's engine and the collective of the three Astartes' power armour. Eventually, Gadriel is the one to break it by clearing his throat.

"Forgive me for saying so, sir. But, it sounds as if you speak from experience."

Titus turns his head towards Gadriel. The dim bar lights lining the Thunderhawk's interior reflect sharply off the golden laurels welded around his helmet's crown.

"You remain as sharp as ever, brother," the lieutenant remarks. "And you would be right. Severus' gang is not the first group of xenos collaborators I've encountered."

He pauses for a second. "As I said, they are the worst kind of heretic. Worse than political dissenters or atheist zealots. By a long, long way."

Silence falls once more. This time, however, it is morose. Sober. Behind his helmet, Gadriel chews the inside of his cheek in thought. It's a habit he's had ever since he was a boy- one so innate, not even Astartes re-education could snuff it out. He's reviewing the mission briefing in his head. Specifically, the intelligence regarding their target. Archibald Severus- a rogue trader turned planetary crime lord. Typically, such a man would not be a concern for the Astartes- such things were usually handled by the Inquisition alone. But Severus has been particularly problematic; almost all of his people wield necron weaponry and his Drukhari allies have all but brought the planet to its knees. Also, the Ultramarines just so happened to be in the area. Fortunate for the people who live here, though not so much for Severus. The last thought amuses Gadriel enough to make him smile. Yes. Very unfortunate for him indeed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Thunderhawk drops the fireteam amidst the exterior district of a hive city. The street upon which it lands is wide, dusty and long abandoned. Blade and plasma scars line the walls of every surrounding building, reminders of the countless dark eldar attacks the city has endured over Severus' tenure here. The Astartes quite literally hit the ground running. Bolters in hand, their objective's location marker pulsing in the top centre of their heads up displays. The objective in question is a warehouse- once a hangar for Imperial Guard aircraft, now just as abandoned as the rest of the district. Severus will supposedly be there, though the exact reasons why are unknown. But that doesn't matter to Gadriel. If the man is there, he will die. As surely as the blood of the Primarch flows through Gadriel's veins, that traitorous xenos-sellout will die.

The warehouse in question emerges from around the next street corner. It looks like a giant concrete brick dropped in the middle of the district block. Gadriel falls in behind his brothers, covering the rear while Titus leads the way and Chairon covers their flanks from the centre. But the area is empty. As if the entire district had been evacuated or disappeared. Considering what this place has endured over the last several years, that is probably not far from the truth.

"Gadriel," Titus says over the vox, breaking Gadriel's reverie. "Auspex."

The team halts against a nearby wall. The warehouse is now directly in front of them. Moving in perfect unison, Gadriel switches position with Chairon. He sidles up beside Titus, takes one hand off his bolter to extract the Auspex scanner clasped to his belt. He holds the device up and studies the screen for several seconds.

"Motion detected," he reports. "Ten hostiles, one hundred and fifty metres ahead. Baseline, by the sizes of the pulse."

"One must be Severus," Chairon says.

"Hopefully," Gadriel replies.

"But not certainly," Titus says. The lieutenant says nothing more, but Gadriel hears his unspoken order nonetheless: maintain your guard.

Despite their size and weight, the Astartes move like panthers on the prowl. As it is still light outside, they stick to the shadows where they can. Reaching one of the warehouse's walls, the fireteam lines up, Gadriel in front with time with Titus and Chairon covering him.

"We will breach the wall here," Titus says. "Overwhelm them with speed and surprise."

Chairon and Gadriel both acknowledge the order with a curt "yes sir". Internally, however, Gadriel is somewhat amused by Titus' choice in tactics. *One would be forgiven for thinking we were White Scars. All we're missing are the jet bikes.*

Chairon moves in between his brothers. He holster his bolter to his hip before reaching for his belt and extracting a fist-sized breaching charge. He plants the explosive on the wall, primes it with a button press, then motions for Titus and Gadriel to stand clear. Gadriel crouches down on one knee. His secondary heart joins his primary in beating, flooding his body with adrenaline. He looks between his brothers. Both give him nods of acknowledgement. Chairon touches his forearm, ready to activate the charge. As his fingertip brushes the button, however, Gadriel's Auspex let's out a chime.

"Hold," Gadriel says before pulling up the scanner. He furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

"What is it?" Titus asks.

"The Auspex has changed. All but one of the pulses have vanished."

"Vanished?" Chairon asks.

"That's what I said."

"But how?"

"I do not know."

"It matters not," Titus growls. "Chairon, blow the charge n-"

Before he can finish giving the order, the wall explodes on its own.

The shockwave slams into Gadriel with the force of a meteorite. It throws him backward, knocking him off his feet, sending him rolling over his side before landing on flat on his front. All three of his lungs are emptied of air and his ears ring as if glass were being shattered inside his skull. Gadriel ignores it all. Recovering his footing with staggering ease before raising his bolter in the direction of the enemy.

Only he can see nothing. Just the charred concrete debris at his feet and a wall of thick black smoke. Even through his helmet's filters, the smell of it is choking. Like the polluted air of an Underhive amplified and condensed. Gadriel clenches his jaw.

A gas grenade. Only it exploded with the force of a breaching charge.

It has to be Severus. He must have known they were coming, that they were there. Gadriel curses to himself.

We were too loud. Too forward. Not cautious enough...

"Brothers! Status!" Titus' voice crackles over the vox. Gadriel whips around to try and find the lieutenant, but the damned smoke is too opaque. "Alive and unharmed," Gadriel hisses. "But can't see a damn thing."

"Acknowledged." By contrast, Titus' voice is calm and level. "Chairon? What's your status?"

No reply. A fury like fire ignites in Gadriel's chest. "Brother!" he shouts. "Are you there? Tell us where you are!"

A flash of light catches his peripheral vision. Gadriel spins to face it, snapping his bolter sights up as he does. It's small, but sustained, growing in luminosity with every second. But that isn't what makes Gadriel's breath hitch. It's the colour. A shocking, neon green. Too vivid to be natural, too bright to be electronic.

Gadriel's eyes widen. His thoughts scream a single, terrible name.

Necrons.

With an plasmic screech, the particle beam blazes towards him. It aims for his chest, right over his primary heart. Gadriel manages to twist out of the way in time, but not before the beams edge grazes the top of the aquillia on his breastplate. Gadriel aims his bolter in the direction the green light, only for it to vanish as he opens fire.

"Contact!" he shouts down the vox to Titus. "Necron weaponry confirmed!"

The light reappears on his left. Much closer than before. Gadriel fires upon it and he hears his bolter round sing as they slam into alien metal. He dive-rolls to the side, anticipating another particle beam. But no such shot comes. Instead, the light swells. Growing from a dot to a long, curved streak.

"Throne!" Gadriel hisses. Throwing his bolter into the holster on his thigh, he draws his power sword. Just in time to parry the crackling, green energy blade that comes careening towards his head. Both weapons spark and hiss when they make contact. Faster than a blinking eye, Gadriel surges forwards to slash at the arm holding the necron blade. But his opponent is quicker. Smoke swirling about them, they duck his attack before launching a kick at his knee. Pain spikes through Gadriel's leg and he feels his balance slip. It surprises him. There aren't many things that can kick out an armoured Astartes' knee.

A necron warrior, though, is definately one of them.

The energy blade comes for his head again. Gadriel throws his chin up to avoid it, but in the process looses what little balance he has left. He lands on his back hard, grunting as the last of the air in his lungs is forced out by the impact. In the same instant, his opponent is on top of him. Erupting from the smoke like a daemon from the Warp pinning him down by crouching on his breastplate.

Now close enough to see them through the smoke, Gadriel lays eyes on his attacker for the first time. What he sees, he can only describe as abominable. At first glance, they are human- female, from her shape and build- clad in tattered, studded leather characteristic of those from an Underhive. Her hair is a stunning shade of scarlet and she has it up in a pony tail so long it flows behind her like a cape of ribbons. But that is where all semblance of her humanity ends. Instead of a left arm, she has a robotic appendage, the clawed, green-veined forelimb of a necron warrior, with a green plasma blade bursting from its knuckles. The same is true of her right leg, the foot of which is pressed savagely into Gadriel's chest, strong enough to keep the Astartes pinned. A necron rifle- the source of the particle beams, surely- hangs from a strap looped across her back.

Hatred contorts Gadriel's face into a snarl. Abandoning his power sword he reaches for his bolter, which is still holstered to his thigh. Wrenching the weapon free, he throws it up just as the cyborg-abomination above him raises her energy blade. Her face, too, is twisted into a snarl.

Time suddenly slows. Gadriel's finger stops shy of the trigger.

Her face...

Hatred turns to confusion turn to shock. His thoughts are a racing, jumbled mess. His mouth opens without him realising and he hears his own voice. It speaks a name he hasn't heard in over fifty years.

"... Ellie?"

The cyborg freezes. The snarl on her lips dies.

"G- Gadriel?"

Both of Gadriel's hearts stop. His mind is simultaneously paralysed and raging like a warpstorm. His bolter falls from his hand, clattering off his breastplate to land beside him. Gadriel doesn't even notice.

"Sergeant!" a voice bellows over the vox.

Sparks suddenly burst from the woman's back. As quickly as it had vanished her snarl returns. Leaping off Gadriel, she whips around. Her energy blade retracts into her arm and she reaches for her rifle. Gadriel turns his head to see Titus charging for them with his bolter raised.

The woman hesitates. Glances at Gadriel. Behind his visor, Gadriel meets her gaze. His eyes become wide and watery.

It can't be.

More of Titus' rounds slam into her, this time pinging off her necronian arm. She staggers backward, dropping her rifle so it's swinging limp against her hip. Another moment of hesitation. Gadriel opens his mouth to call her name again. But before the word can leave his lips, she's moving again. Turning her back and vanishing into the smoke screen. When it finally fades, there is no sign of her. Not even a drop of blood.

Gadriel swallow thickly. A lump has formed in his throat, large enough to make it difficult for him to breathe.

"Brother!" Titus clasps his arm, hauling Gadriel up into a sitting position. "Are you alright? Are you wounded?"

Gadriel says nothing. He doesn't remember how to speak. Nor can he even see his brother kneeling beside him. The only thing his mind can see is her. The day her father died. The day on the rooftop. The night they had spent together in her bed.

"Promise me you'll come back."

"I promise."

"I love you."

"I-"

"Brother?" The concern in Titus' voice is palpable now. "Gadriel. Can you hear me?"

Gadriel finally looks at the lieutenant. He nods, but still refuses to speak. He doesn't trust himself to. He's afraid that if he did, he might start to weep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

That's it! I hope you liked it! The first part of any story is always kinda slow, since you gotta set everything up, but I tried my best to keep things moving fast-like.

Thank you again for reading xoxoxoxo

Part 2 will be up in a few days probably. Hopefully I'll see you all then :)

Update: pssst, you can read part 2 here!

Tag list: @yurihasurunbara @beckyninja @nereidof40k @hatsubara-8chan @moodymisty @solspina @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @wolf-feathers12 @egrets-not-regrets

[dross-the-fish]

A follower tagged me on a post that was talking about how Edward isn't actually a bad guy but rather he's misunderstood and I'm not going to reply to that post because I don't want to start drama on someone else's blog but I've seen the sentiment brought up a few times so I'm going to make a blanket post about the topic rather than single anyone out. The post I was tagged in mentions the trampling of the child and seems to frame it like an accident so I'll start there and I'll let Henry himself tell you how he views that incident. "An act of cruelty to a child aroused against me the anger of a passer by," He outright says it, it's an act of cruelty. He doesn't deny that. And that's what I hate about fanon Hyde. A lot of interps seem to forget that Hyde is a middle aged man struggling with a repressed sadistic streak and not a social awkward teenager. I think the most concrete evidence we have of Jekyll/Hyde's nature is in Jekyll's letter and how he describes himself and his relationship to Hyde. “To cast in my lot with Jekyll, was to die to those appetites which I had long secretly indulged and had of late begun to pamper. To cast it in with Hyde, was to die to a thousand interests and aspirations, and to become, at a blow and forever, despised and friendless. The bargain might appear unequal; but there was still another consideration in the scales; for while Jekyll would suffer smartingly in the fires of abstinence, Hyde would be not even conscious of all that he had lost.” As afraid as he is of losing the life he's built for himself there's so much LONGING to be Hyde despite the evils Hyde has done. He wants to indulge in his appetites and he knows if he embraces Edward he won't even grieve his losses. I find it interesting that he notes that becoming Edward would cost him his "aspirations and interests," because he would be losing everything to his vice, choosing pleasure and indulgence over his own goals and ambitions. "If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also," Henry Jekyll is a complex and repressed but also very selfish man and here's where the interpretation of Edward as a metaphor for addiction comes most strongly into play. Jekyll shows textbook signs of a drug user: experimentation, denial or minimization of the harmful effects, attempts to quit, withdrawal when he goes too long without being Edward and eventually he develops a dependency and falls into a spiral. The fact that he's taking a potion just drives the imagery that much harder. Even the description of the effects of the potion itself mirror drug use. "something indescribably new and, from its very novelty, incredibly sweet. I felt younger, lighter, happier in body ; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a mill race in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul. I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked" It's agony at first but once the "high" hits and he becomes Edward he feels good and his inhibitions are gone. He can indulge every depraved and twisted act his heart desires without having to take the hit to his reputation or the responsibility. “since then I had been obliged on more than one occasion to double, and once, with infinite risk of death, to treble the amount” - Jekyll risks an overdose because he keeps taking more of the serum. This illustrates his dependency on Hyde and his inability to quit. One thing I've noticed about Hyde interps that favor the lighter, softer, readings of the character is that they almost always neglect the characterization of Henry Jekyll. Either depicting Jekyll as the good half or all but erasing them from their fanon version of Hyde and that's something you can't really do because it misses the point of Jekyll and Hyde. Which is about Henry Jekyll and his repression and his eventual turn to a destructive outlet.

"The pleasures which I made haste to seek in my disguise were, as I have said, undignified; I would scarce use a harder term. But in the hands of Edward Hyde, they soon began to turn towards the monstrous. When I would come back from these excursions, I was often plunged into a kind of wonder at my vicarious depravity. This familiar that I called out of my own soul, and sent forth alone to do his good pleasure, was a being inherently malign and villainous; his every act and thought centered on self; drinking pleasure with bestial avidity from any degree of torture to another, relentless like a man of stone. Henry Jekyll stood at times aghast before the acts of Edward Hyde." once the leash is off Jekyll is shocked by what he's capable of, what Hyde is capable of. The words used by Stevenson paint a lurid picture, Depravity, bestial, torture, villainous. He can't outright say what Hyde is doing but it's pretty clear he has a sadistic streak. He also lets slip at one point by using "My" instead of referring to Edward as separate. "My vicarious depravity." He's aware, he is complicit and he enjoys himself. You cannot separate Jekyll from Hyde therefore any interpretation of Hyde as being soft, innocent, unaware or merely mischievous is not only incorrect but it directly contradicts the purpose of the story and strips Jekyll of his complexity. If you can't like this character as he is written then you don't like this character. There are some things you can leave up to interpretation but Hyde's sadism and Jekyll's addiction to Hyde are both very clear cut and Jekyll's confession spells everything out in a way that you'd have to reach pretty far to claim that Edward is being misrepresented by Utterson throughout the bulk of the novel.

[flowery-mess]

in vino veritas

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / slight smut / drinking alcohol / let me know if anything else should be taged

Words: 2k

frat boy Noah masterlist

„So you can chose from this list of presentation topics or you can think of your own, but you need to discuss it with me in that case. Everything clear? Any questions?” your professor then ended the lesson and you turned to face Molly and Clara.

“How are we gonna do this? There’s three of us.” Clara said, pointing between the three of you. You were just assigned new team project, team meaning two people.

“Ella can be with Noah, they can work on their project after their sex sessions.” Molly said, teasing you with playful smirk.

“Molly, fuck off.” you said with nice smile, showing her your middle finger.

“That’s not a bad idea actually.” Clara nodded along as the two of them looked like they just found cure for deadly disease.

“He has his buddies in this class, he’s not interested in doing school project with me.”

“One, two, three, four aaand five! Perfect!” Molly scanned the area where Noah and his friends sat, pretty happy with the number of them.

“Just text him, or one of us will end up with Anna again.”

“And you don’t want that for any of us!”

Anna was your classmate, short girl with long hair. Clara was paired up with her for another project and she said she’s rather have a bath full of spider than work with Anna again. She didn’t give you details, only that her dorm smells like sweat and that she told Clara she doesn’t take shower more than twice a week to save the planet.

“You’re the worst friends ever.” you ironically said when you pulled your phone out of your bag to text Noah.

“Any chance your friends ditched you for the project like mine?” you hit send and then turned your body so you could see Noah reach for his phone.

He read your text and chuckled before answering you.

“No, but I could ditch them for you.”

Before you could write your response he sent another message.

“Unless you want Trevor to be your partner.”

You looked up to see Noah looking back at you, his face without any emotion so you didn’t know if that Trevor message was just a joke or if he was serious.

“I don’t want Trevor to be my partner.” you sent your reply and before you could see his reaction, you turned back around to face your friends who were patiently waiting for your answer.

“Okay I’ll do it with Noah, but next time one of you will make the sacrifice.”

-------------------

“Do you like any topic from the list?” Noah started the conversation when you two found a free table at the coffee shop in the campus.

“I haven’t read them all yet, do you like any of them?”

“I don’t really care about the topic, you can choose.”

“You sound like a perfect partner, let me see.” you opened the document with different topics and Noah sipped on his coffee. “Workplace diversity, Urbanization and its social impacts, Religion in moder communities, everything’s boring.”

You scrolled some more before something finally caught your eye. “This! Sociology of first impressions: expressions through appearance.” you pointed your finger in the middle of your screen where topic was written.

“Why this one?” Noah asked.

“Because I hate when people judge others based on their looks. I might get angry while doing this project.” you warned Noah, but that only got a chuckle out of him.

“Okay, sign us up for that one.” so you did write Noah Sebastian and Ella Thompson next to that topic so no one could steal it from you.

“Let’s make an outline and we can start on our own parts separately.”

You wrote down ideas and topics you wanted to talk about and when you finished your coffees you were pretty satisfied with the work you’ve done so far.

“How about we work on in at my place on Saturday?” Noah proposed when started packing your things.

“Oh, okay.” you said, surprised by his question. First, it meant that he planned on taking you back to his place on Friday and second, he wanted you to stay and not leave in the morning. But it was because of the project, you reminded yourself.

“Okay. Bye Ella.” he gave you quick salute and left the coffee shop.

-----------------

Sitting on Noah’s couch on Saturday with schoolwork in front of you felt weird. Unnatural.

“So the introduction is done, we can change it as we go on with the rest. I was thinking we could do interview for the practical part of the project?” you looked up from your notes only to find Noah sitting on the floor with his head on the couch and eyes closed. “Noah!�� you groaned and threw your pencil at him.

“What? I want to sleep.”

“This was your idea.” you reminded him.

He opened one eye to give the annoyed look, but he knew you were right. He was also a good student and wanted the project to be good, but he was also tired from the party last night and then your bedroom fun that lasted until 3AM.

“Okay. What did you say about the practical part?” he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat straight. Sleepy Noah kinda looked cute, but you were sure he was gonna change into angry Noah after you’re gonna propose your ides to him.

“I was thinking about an interview with someone extraordinary.”

“Like?”

“Like, well, you.”

His eyebrows shot up at your proposition “Me? You think I’m extraordinary?”

You couldn’t name the look in his eyes, but it almost looked like it made him sad and surprised at the same time.

“I mean yeah, look at you. You’re what this project is about. Don’t tell me no one ever judged you based on your tattoos.”

He was quiet, confirming what you just said out loud. It was true, he was familiar with the judgement from others based solely on the tattoos that were covering most of his body.

“I don’t think that’s allowed when I’m working on the project.” His answer was short and firm.

He knew that if he’d agreed you’d ask questions like why he got this and that tattoo, the meaning behind them or at what age he started with them. And he didn’t want you to know that, his covered body meant all the obstacles he had to overcome and he didn’t like talking about his past. But you didn’t know that, so before you could shut your mouth the question slipped out.

“Why do you have desolate on your stomach Noah?”

“Stop asking questions Ella, I told you no.”

“It can be anonymous, no one has to know it’s about you.”

“I said no.”

“It can be just few questions, like 5 to 10?” you just couldn’t help yourself and stop your mouth.

“Leave.”

“What?” you looked at Noah, confused by his sudden reaction.

“I don’t feel like working on the project anymore. We can have coffee on Monday and continue.”

He looked hurt, and suddenly you felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

But he didn’t answer, instead he started packing your things to show you he was serious about wanting you leave.

------------

You didn’t talk about his tattoos on Monday, you talked about the theoretical part of the project. Noah was giving you the cold shoulder, not talking more than he had to.

You couldn’t stop thinking about his reaction to your question about the desolate tattoo. You always wondered what his tattoos mean when you saw him naked, but you never asked. Or you just didn’t have a good excuse to do so.

-------------

The next Friday you were both more drunk that usual, blaming the beer pong competition for it. When you made it to Noah’s place and you started taking each other’s clothes off, your drunk mind couldn’t help itself.

You slid your hands down Noah’s naked chest and stopped at the desolate tattoo.

“What does it mean Noah?” you asked him in a whisper, your mouth on his.

“What?”

“Desolate. Why do you have it on your body?”

“Because I’m desolate.” he confessed, the lust from his eyes fading away.

“That’s not a nice thing to say about yourself.”

“It’s the truth tho.” he dipped his head in the crook of your neck and started kissing your sensitive skin.

And you pieced all the things you knew about Noah together. He was living alone, in this big ass apartment, he never mentioned visiting his family for the holidays or someone’s birthday. He doesn’t have any pictures of him and his family around the place and his mom never called him at 6 in the morning like yours did.

“What about your family?” he stopped his movements and you felt his muscles tense under your touch.

He pushed himself off of you and sat on his bed, his tatted back facing you. You heard him sigh and push his hair out of his face.

“Why do you care about my family?” he asked just above a whisper.

“I don’t know. You never talked about any family members, you live here alone and you just told me you are a desolate.”

“We said just sex, no feelings. I think that includes this too.”

“Well I’m too drunk so I probably won’t remember shit in the morning.” you lied. And you felt guilty about, but you wanted to get to know him better and the alcohol just gave you courage to continue.

The alcohol probably made him more emotional too, because he believed that you won’t remember what he said to you that night, but how could you.

“I don’t have any family. Parents left me with my grandparents when I was a kid. Haven’t seen my mom since then and I only see my father if he needs money from me. My grandparents died when I was 15 and since then it was just me. I was left with their house and money. I worked through high school so I could afford good college. Sold the house when I was 19 and bought this place. But I got no one Ella, I am desolate. Always have been.” his head was hanging low, his breath became uneven and he closed his eyes to picture his three year old self asking his grandmother when will mom come pick him up.

“Noah,” you didn’t know what to say to his story, you were feeling sorry for him, but you were sure that wasn’t something he wanted to hear. “You made something from yourself, your grandparents would be proud.”

When he didn’t answer you shifted on your knees and pressed yourself at his back.

Noah fell asleep in your arms that night and your view on him changed. He was the great example for your project, how the outside of someone doesn’t reflect his inside.

But in the morning you pretended like you didn’t remember anything he told you and couldn’t figure if he really did not remember sharing his secrets with you, or if he actually didn’t remember.

You finished the project and got almost full score from your professor.

Things between you and Noah stayed the same, neither of you going back to that night or hiss desolate tattoo.

But every time you got the chance, you made sure kiss those letter on his body to silently tell him he’s not a desolate.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Tag list: @lacy1986 @chey-h

Click here to get on my tag list

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

A Second Chance Is A Better Chance - Part 24

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Witch Reader, eventual ? x Omega Witch Reader and Alpha Steve Rogers X Omega Witch Reader

Theme: A/B/O / True Mates

Series Warnings: A/B/O, eventual smut, violence in parts, witchcraft, shapeshifters

Chapter Summary: Are you actually going to let Steve into the cottage and into the cottage?

Chapter Warning: Mentions of witchcraft, past trauma.

Previously......

And before you realised what was happening you’d reached the door, pulling it open by hand as the movement caused your robe to open and expose your legs. The cool breeze of the day swept through and over your body, pebbling your nipples. Steve purred as he took you in. His eyes drinking in every turn, grove and curl of your body. His eyes reached yours.

“Omega.”

"Hello Alpha." You replied softly, looking up through your lashes at Steve. Your omega and wolf sat in your subconscious swishing their tails as they lent against each other.

"Everything okay?" He asked.

You nodded.

"Are you sure? Sam told me about what happened."

"Sorry about that, sorry if I embarrassed you or the pack."

Before Steve had a chance to answer, Bucky interrupted.

"We told you already Doll, you don't need to worry about any of that."

"But still people will talk. I heard them looking and whispering. They'll know I'm connected to the pack with you and Sam sweeping me out of there." You replied.

The breeze swept through the open door and you shivered a little. Before realising what you'd done, you'd invited Steve inside and closed the door. As you closed it your witch stirred. What are your doing?

"You don't need to worry about what people think, and if any of the town gossips starts they'll have to answer to me. Might even send Natasha to have a little chat with them, but none of that matters. I just want to know if you're OK."

You looked away but nodded.

"Can I get you anything? Do you need anything?" Steve asked.

You shook your head.

"Did you eat?"

You nodded. Steve glanced at Bucky.

"She did. She ate the lot." Bucky confirmed.

"You make me sound like a pig."

"Clearing your plate doesn't make you a pig Luna and I know for a fact you didn't eat most of the day." Bucky told you firmly. You rolled your eyes.

"So that's all she ate, but she's drinking?" He asked, looking at Bucky disapprovingly, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Don't give me that look Stevie. She was drinking that before I got here. You should try it, it has quite the kick." Bucky smirked. You smiled and avoided looking at Steve as he shook his head at you both.

"But you're okay?" Steve asked, trying to get a true read on how you were feeling.

"Yeah." You replied, shrugging as you slipped back onto the stool and began to lift the glass of wine.

"Is that a good idea?" Steve asked.

"Bucky's right, you should try it. Loosen up a little." You replied a little playfully.

"I'd loosen up if my mate would talk to me." Steve replied firmly. Bucky dropped his head in disappointment. It really was two steps forward and three back with you two.

"We're talking now aren't we?" You replied, drinking the wine and not sparing Steve a glance. Bucky watched and Steve clenched his jaw. He knew that look. Steve was trying to keep his alpha in check. Bucky's not sure if it's your omega, wolf or witch that replies but what he does know is that she's full of sass.

"You sure you don't want a glass of Alpha?" A smirk on your face as you ask him. Steve steps forward a rumble in his chest. Bucky tenses and readies himself to play peacemaker and the possibility that you might throw him back out on his ass, but the rumble stops abruptly as you let out a gasp and stand quickly from the stool, knocking it over in the process. Your hand is on your stomach and you gasp again like you've been winded. Bucky and Steve reach you at the same time. Steve arm is around you waist and the other is over yours across your body. Your free arm is holding yourself up against the counter, as Bucky grips it firmly to keep you upright.

"Omega, what is it? What's wrong?" Steve asked, voice edge with panic.

"Luna?"

"Is it the wine?"

"No, this happened earlier, she said it was Fiona, pulling on the witch wound. It's worse though. Is she doing it again?"

You shook your head as wave of panic washed over you. This was multiple witches all at once and they were trying to get your attention. They were panicked and unsettled.

"It's the witch wound but it's not Fiona. Fuck, there's a lot of them. I need to focus." Steve and Bucky watched as you tried to right yourself, gripping onto them in the process. You slipped your hand from under Steve's and let his hand rest on your stomach, placing yours on top. You slipped from Bucky's grasp and gripped his metal arm. You took a breath, closed your eyes and tried to ground yourself. You expected to have to mediate or go into a trance like state, similar to how you had before the battle with Agatha, but as you gripped on to Steve and Bucky, their warmth and the comfort of their scents wrapped around you and it took a matter of seconds. Your eyes snapped open as they swirled with gold.

You expected Steve and Bucky to jump back but they stood firm. Steve reacting instinctively, his alpha taking the lead. He rubbed his cheeky against the top of your head, scenting you slightly and you felt the bristles of his beard as he nudged down your face.

"Sweetheart, talk to me, what is it?"

You took a breath and spoke softly, as your witch divided up those pulling on the wound.

"It's Storm, I think the baby's coming. Somethings happening. Jean and the others are all pulling, even Scott'." Your eyes switched back to their natural colour and you found yourself leaning into Steve's touch, as you looked up at Bucky.

"I need my phone." You reached out to use your powers but Bucky brought your hand back to Steve's.

"I'll find it."

Bucky looked around and was quick to find your phone on the coffee table. It started to ring as he passed it to you. Scott calling across the screen.

You answered and Scott's panicked voice sounded down the line.

"We need you over here Y/N and quickly. Her waters have broken and she's saying she needs to push already, the whole damn house is shaking. Jean's trying to calm her down but she's already thrown Logan out the room."

Your reply was firm and instructive. You didn't notice the glance that passed between Steve and Bucky.

"Stay calm. I'm on my way."

You pulled out of Steve's grasp and ended the call. You were up the stairs and into the guest room you were using as quickly as they blinked. You reappeared moments later wearing leggings and pulling on an oversized hoodie. You summoned your bag and cloak, something you hadn't worn since your fight with Agatha. Bucky and Steve both noticed the scorch marks as you put it on. They were snapped out of their staring as you summoned your broom and it whipped passed the pair of them at speed, stopping as it reached you as you pulled on a pair of Converse and laced them up with your powers. Steve realised at that moment that he'd never met a woman like you. Not an omega, a witch or a white wolf. You were unique in ever shape of the word.

And then it dawned on him. You were about to ride your broom over to the X Pack and you were quite possibly intoxicated.

"Hang on."

"I can't hang on Steven, my best friend is in labour and I promised her I'd be there."

"You've been drinking, maybe sober up a little."

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe you shouldn't get on that thing without some water in your system. Let me drive you over there."

You pulled your bag over yourself and rounded on Steve.

"First Rogers, that thing is a broom. Second, it flies itself. I don't fly it. Third, I already sobered myself up when I was upstairs." You tossed an empty bottle of recovery potion at him. "And fourth, do you really think I'd deliver my best friends baby drunk."

You muttered something about him being a lumberjack asshole, before turning to Bucky.

"Beta, please thank Sam and Laura again for dinner. Would you mind locking up?" You asked, much more pleasantly than you'd spoken to Steve.

"Of course Luna." Bucky replied, throwing a smile in your direction.

You glared at Steve as you went towards the door, opening it with your powers and giving instructions to your broom in Latin. It titled ready for you to sit on it followed you out the door. Bucky and Steve followed you and watched as you took to the skies. A look passed between them.

"Did you hear it?" Steve asked. "The tone in her voice when she spoken to Summers."

"I did. Makes sense."

"How so?"

"It'd take a True Luna to keep you and all of those idiots in line."

"You remember you're one of those idiots right?"

"Never said I wasn't bud."

You return twenty-four hours later. Steve's sitting on the deck of his uncle's old cabin, rocking back and forth in one of the chairs. Clint is at his side listening to Steve, as he's telling him for a second time of what happened before you left, and that you let him hold and scent you. Clint's smiling and trying to hold in a laugh at the alpha's excitement. Remembering Laura's warning of not to tease him, he nods and asks questions like Steve hasn't already told him this story. A breeze in the wind brings your scent to them and Steve's on his feet when they spot you in the sky, but something isn't quite right. Your scent is soured and you're clearly upset about something. They know it's not the baby or Storm, at least they don't think it is. Scott had already done his job as the pack beta and alerted the other packs, including their own, to confirm the baby's arrival and that the pack would be locked down until further notice. Steve's phone puzzled in his pocket and he pulled it out to see a message from Logan. His brow furrowed as he read it.

Is she back yet? She left here over an hour ago. I asked her to tell me she was back okay.

Where had you been?

Clint joined Steve as his side, asking if everything was alright. They watched as you reached the house, using your powers to unlock it and open the door before gliding all the way in, still sitting on your broom. There was flash of magic and Steve and Clint watched as the shield formed over the house.

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@animegirlgeeky @mrsevans90 @slut4rogers @jvanilly @otterlycanadian @neocity-mel @jessjessmarvelandhp @littletomboy2 @longpondlibrary

[ghostgirl-22]

Patrick wearing lingerie with Tashi….

So… this turned into kink really fast I fear. Sorry if this isn’t what you wanted anon 😞

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Toys, mention of spanking, pegging and mild daddy kink. In addition to what it says on the tin

—-

Patrick’s still trying to dig into their lives. Get into every aspect so they can’t take him out again. Arts not home for a week, and Patrick’s wearing his clothes everyday... Is how it’s going. Sometimes wears his underwear, tight little briefs. Art is just a bit smaller than him, thighs, arms…cock. He’s filled out though. A lot. Patrick gets hard when he thinks about it.

Art’s on a ski trip with the whole Donaldson family and Lily. He isn’t ready to say to his parents and sisters and in laws that Patrick likes to sleep in bed with him and his wife. Art doesn’t say Patrick shouldn’t come but they all know he shouldn’t. And Patrick can’t be alone. Patrick doesn’t say he can’t be alone. But they all know he can’t.

So Tashi stays at home. She’s is happy for the excuse not to go…“I’ve got company in town.” Tashi explains, oh so regrettable that she can’t make it. She doesn’t tell them it’s Patrick or Arts mom would’ve made them both come.

So they’re home alone in a lavish townhouse. He’s showered in their bathroom and he’s digging through Arts clothes for something to wear. And all hidden away in the back there’s this garter and tights. Patrick fishes them out. He leaves the walk-in closet and Tashi’s in bed watching some housewives show and painting her nails. Hair loosely pinned up, in an oversized hoodie and short shorts. She looks so pretty it’s unreal. She doesn’t even have to try.

“Where’s the rest of this? I need you to try it on for me.” Patrick demands, holding up the tights.

She looks up, eyes narrowed and then her expression changes to one of amusement. “Where’d you find that?”

“In the back of Arts underwear drawer.”

“You know…” she goes back to painting her nails, “the clothes I get. But you’re insane for wearing his underwear.”

“I’d wear yours if they fit,” Patrick smirks.

She looks up at him again, still amused but something else is there. Patrick can read her like a book. He walks closer, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. “What?” He asks softly.

She bites her lip. “Those are Art’s.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah… it’s a whole set. Pink, satiny or something. It should be in there.”

“Wait…” Patrick starts because he’s actually having a slight mental breakdown. “You mean he wore pink satin, tights and a garter belt and—and pink satin?

“Don’t have a stroke,” Tashi smirks.

“Fuck,” Patrick groans.

“It was like… forever ago. Halloween. A friend from Stanford took us to a drag night. He was freaking out about what to wear. I bought him that but it was too… revealing. He just wore a dress instead.”

“Too revealing?”

“Yeah… actually you should try it on,” Tashi says, carefully. “Check the bottom drawer, towards the back. I think the gown is in there.”

“You think?” Patrick asks, staring at her a moment longer. She’s looking back at him, those pretty brown eyes dilating in real time, he’s obsessed with her. “Bottom drawer?”

“Mmhm,” she says. “It might fit perfectly.”

Patrick smirks and goes back in the closet. The gown is a tiny, entirely see through number. He drops his towel and pulls it over his head. It’s so smooth… satiny and sheer. Tight on his waist, loose in the chest cause he doesn’t have tits. He’s looking at himself in the full length mirror, he’s got hair everywhere that Art is smooth. He doesn’t bother with the tights for that reason.

He does pull on the satin panties, and that is comical, trying to tuck himself into them. His balls and cock are fighting for space. He turns to look at himself from the side. The frills barely fall below his ass. He could just bend over the slightest bit and he’s exposed. He feels his dick starting to swell, sees it in the mirror.

“Did you find it?” Tashi calls from the bedroom.

“Uh huh,” Patrick replies.

Seeing it on himself, all Patrick can think about is Art’s body, the pink stretched over his chest, the skirt not even long enough to hide his ass, or his cock. Patrick with easy access to both. God, he rubs himself just a little as he imagines it. He wants to call Art right now. “Hey Tashi?” He calls.

“Yeah,” she’s closer now. He turns as she enters the closet, slowly taking him in.

“Do I look pretty?” He asks.

She smirks and then cups his nipples. “Pretty as a princess. Wanna give daddy a kiss?”

Patrick laughs. “And you’re daddy?”

“I am when you’re in that pretty dress,” she says playfully pinching his ass. He grins and looks up before gazing back at her and leaning in to kiss her mouth.

”Good girl,” she sighs against his lips.

“Mm, daddy. You ever peg him in this?” Patrick asks.

“I wish, he would’ve absolutely freaked out. I fingered him once while we were fucking… he came so fast he had an existential crisis,” she sighs, working her thumbs idly over his nipples. Patrick takes a breath, he’s sensitive there and the feeling of her fingers and the satin is crazy. Patrick can understand how Art got off so quickly.

“So you expect me to believe he wore this… and there were no consequences?”

She shrugs and walks her finger tips down his waist. “Well… I spanked him.” She says smiling.

“Say more,” Patrick says, curling one of the stray hairs behind her ear.

“I made him bend over the bathroom sink and I told him daddy was gonna spank him. And then I did it. His ass got so red.” She reaches the panties and slides her fingers over the swell of his cock as she looks at him, her eyes all shiny.

“Fuck, seriously?” He breathes, dizzy as she teases him.

“Mmhm. He got so hard. I’d never seen him like that before. Made me wish I had a dick so I coulda fucked him.”

He cradles her face between his hands, “you can fuck me daddy,” he says, softly.

“Yeah?” She says and she leans in and kisses him. It’s more chaotic. He’s walking her back and then she’s resisting, then pushing him back against the mirror.

“You’re so slutty… can’t even hide it from me,” Tashi says, pushing him back hard and gripping his cock. “I can see everything when you wear that for me.”

Patrick sighs. He can’t help but imagine her talking this way to her husband. Tries to imagine how he’d react.

“I just want your dick,” Patrick says, he’s eager and It’s what Art might say to him.

“I know you do,” Tashi smiles. “I actually have one. Stay there. Don’t touch.” She says.

Patrick lingers in the closet. He’s looking at himself again. Skin flushing, he’s tenting the panties, they were barely doing anything to keep him in before, now he might as well be wearing nothing. He rubs the fabric, continuing where Tashi left off with his nipples. Tashi comes back moments later and she’s got a dildo.

“No strap?” Patrick smirks.

“I’ll get it for your birthday,” she says pushing him up against the glass so she can fuck him with it. It’s slick with lubricant and she’s easing it inside. Panties still on.

“I can take more than that daddy.” Patrick teases.

“Can you pretty girl? You’re gonna come all over your pretty dress.” Tashi says softly. And Patrick sorta regrets saying anything, because moments later she’s ramming into his prostate relentlessly. He almost feels his knees buckle after he spurts come all over the glass in one of the most sudden and intense orgasms he’s ever had. He gets on his knees anyway, she drops the dildo and he grabs her by the waist.

“Does he say thank you?” Patrick says, breathlessly.

“He’s very polite.” She smiles, fingers tangling into his hair.

Patrick tugs her shorts and panties down and licks his “thank you daddy” into the wet heat of her cunt.

[jomiddlemarch]

cheating a person of their premeditated contempt

“Might I make a confession?” Elizabeth said.

A husband of nearly a year, Fitzwilliam Darcy considered himself an expert in the subject of his wife, her predilections and foibles, her tone of voice and how it correlated to her setting, nuances and subtleties that he had missed entirely when she had been merely Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.

At the moment, Mrs. Darcy sat in the morning room of their London townhouse, her fine dark eyes set off by the primrose draperies she had ordered after he’d first given her the instruction to make the place suitable for them. A cup of China tea rested on the table beside her, an uneaten biscuit perched in the saucer. There was something provocative in her expression, but it was not her intention to invite his more amorous address, though the color in her cheeks and the curve of her lip told him she would give him the merest token of protest should he act upon any such urge. He put aside the book he was reading, marking the page with one of her cast-off silk ribbons; he had insisted, quite rightly, that no one but her lady’s maid would know it had been used to tie her garters.

“You are well aware that I am not a man of the cloth and may not absolve you, so you must proceed with the confidence that my judgment would not be severe, should I choose to render it,” he said.

“You would tease me, but I am serious,” she replied.

“If you are serious, I shall not dare to tease you again, madam. What would you tell me?”

“All the time I lived at Longbourn and when we were at Pemberley, I thought calling cards were a tremendous affectation, twice as silly as the silliest mob-cap, and that anyone who would say they were not at home when they were sitting cozily in their library was the epitome of pomposity,” she said.

“And now?”

“And now, I know myself to have been the greatest fool, for the tray is overflowing with cards and we have at least three invitations for any hour of any day, teas and routs and Venetian breakfasts when I have yet to divine the characteristic that confers any salient reference to Venice or breakfast,” she said brightly, but he could hear her consternation and distress concealed within her humor.

“It is not bad thing to discover you were mistaken. Nor that Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley is much in demand,” he said. “I agree a Venetian breakfast remains a mystery, unless there is risi e bisi served alongside bread and butter.”

“But how shall we decide who to see?” Elizabeth said, leafing through the pile of calling cards.

“Is there anyone you recognize who you’d like to see?” he replied.

“There’s a card from Mrs. George Knightley,” she said. “She is quite good humored and amiable—”

“Then we shall call upon her and after I shall take you for a ride through the park in the barouche in lieu of a walk through the countryside,” he said.

“I’ve only to do what I like? That doesn’t seem proper—surely I will offend someone important,” she said.

“All London is not like my Aunt Catherine, Elizabeth. And you had little trouble letting her know how you felt about her perspective,” he said.

“You were more important that a Venetian breakfast, Fitzwilliam!” 

“I should hope so,” he replied. “Though the one tomorrow is hosted by a duchess.”

“Prinny himself might host and it would not come to account,” she replied.

“And for that, we’ll stop at Gunter’s for ices before we return here and are very definitely not at home for anyone,” he said. 

Written for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month, posted a day late for Day 18 prompt: calling cards

[genderqueerdykes]

I saw one of your posts discussing it and people telling their experiences, if you don’t mind, I thought I’d also chime in with mine (if you do, feel free to just delete this!)

Overall, I feel like people gatekeeping discrimination does more harm than good and is itself a form of discrimination (and one that doesn’t always make sense) (for a lack of a better way to word it? I feel like I potentially worded that poorly. Like I’m aware there are different types of discrimination and that different people are affected differently and all that and how not everyone experiences all types of discrimination/some types of discrimination won’t really apply to them and all that)

For example, because I’m read as a woman/femme, I’ve received discrimination for taking a super low dose (“post-menopausal dose” is what my endocrinologist called it, I think) testosterone to treat my hypoandrogenism. For a while, I struggled how to refer to that discrimination because of all the gatekeeping.

I’ve received flak from the trans community for calling it “transphobia” because I’m not transitioning/on it for GAHRT reasons (due to safety reasons, I cannot medically transition and I’m closeted with the exception of a few spaces)/I’m closeted so people don’t know or whatever.

I’ve also received flak from the intersex community for simply asking if it counts as intersexism because some people don’t consider hypoandrogenism for those AFAB* as an intersex variation (they’ll say hyperandrogenism is, but hypoandrogenism is not). Those who do think it counts will give me a “they might assumed you’re trans and it was transphobia” which I feel comes off as well meaning but unintentionally dismissive?

Then, in the very few places I am out as trans , misogyny and the like get weirdly gatekept even when they’re aware that the rest of the world will me read me as a (perisex) cis woman???

Like I’ve talked about my experiences with misogyny and either get outright dismissed because I’m not a woman (which, while true, the rest of the world assumes I am and treats me as such).

At “best”, they will be indirectly dismissive; they’ll reply to my experience with misogyny with “well, as a woman…” and I have the urge to point out that while I am not a woman, I am treated and assumed and read as one (because I’m closeted everywhere else in my life, something the people saying this usually are aware of) and/or to bluntly ask them why they thought they needed to clarify that they are women since it comes off as dismissive/minimising my experience or why they seem to be kind of malgendering me or something like that…but that (the replies that come to mind) usually feels like I’m misgendering myself (which feels dysphoric) so I don’t say anything…

(None of this includes being dismissed by the queer community for having hormone issues. The amount of times I’ve gotten a “you’re not aro/ace/aroace/trans/transmasc/queer/etc, it’s probably just your hormone issues affecting you!” is ridiculous…but I feel like that’s a whole different can of worms)

Honestly, it’s all so tiring…

(* Sorry if this isn’t the right/“proper” term; I’m still learning and trying to figure out how to word things, become more educated on intersex topics and words and etc)

thanks for taking the time to send in your story. i have some experience with this so i'll chip in a little

I’ve also received flak from the intersex community for simply asking if it counts as intersexism because some people don’t consider hypoandrogenism for those AFAB* as an intersex variation (they’ll say hyperandrogenism is, but hypoandrogenism is not). Those who do think it counts will give me a “they might assumed you’re trans and it was transphobia” which I feel comes off as well meaning but unintentionally dismissive?

i'm so sorry that's happened to you before. it's very common right now. i've noticed that a lot of intersex people on here really seem to be focused on being really mean to trans people and literally outwardly transphobic. i don't care for it when other intersex people say shit like "perisex trans people are on thin ice." wow. i'm intersex too, but i'm not saying shit like that. i'm not at war with perisex trans people. they helped me realize i was trans and intersex. perisex trans people aren't automatically intersexist or gross or whatever. it's not intersexist to want to have a different body than you do currently

i really don't think it's right for intersex people to be doing this and we need to call it what it is: transphobia. so many intersex people on here just literally outright state how much they hate trans people it's disturbing. like. highly disturbing. not all intersex people are trans, and a lot of intersex people get confused for trans people. i get how that hurts but perisex trans people aren't hurting intersex people by virtue of existing. they're not "on thin ice" come on y'all. we have to educate people if we expect them to improve and get better.

[theotherrookie]

While Rook was still rightfully upset, she was feeling a little more confident they were going to give Five what he deserved. His weird revenge plot had kept him from prying vital information from her, they still had a few aces up their sleeves.

"I don't think they'd be stupid enough to try messing with my place. The ghosts are on high alert, we can probably count it as another safe spot." Rook said, tilting her head back, "I should get a better security system, maybe a magical lock."

Ironically enough, both would be expensive to source. Though that wasn't much of an issue anymore.

"You can tell a lot about a hunter from his favorite readings. You'd be surprised how many of them believe there's a goblin infestation in the city."

And perhaps she would find out how Five had learned about her.

"Well, there might be one reason. Killer Beans is metal as hell, but Mage Mittens sounds like a cozy pair of gloves."

Erica would have loved both and all things considered, she should probably leave it to the elf to provide advice on cat moves.

"Yes, I get nightmares." Rook replied, "It was getting a bit better after we paid dad a visit, but I know I'm going to go through all this stuff again as soon as I pass out."

And truth be told, a part of her still wasn't all that confident she was actually free from Five's control.

"…How would that work?"

"Heck yes. I'm one lucky birb."

Indeed, planning what to do next while enjoying a snack was helping perhaps more than Rook was willing to admit. They were going to take some risks with the club, they had to do things just right.

"It's a secluded place. We could use some peace and quiet, if anything." Rook said, pausing as a thought occurred to her, "I saw a bunch of books. It might be good to check on those names again, see if there's a connection. I know some of them are fairly common and you can just buy them, but you never know."

It was worth a shot and something she could probably look into at work without getting too many questions.

"Half of the fun is naming your spells. The council discussed this and it ended a draw between that and Mage Beans." She chuckled, "The last word is yours, of course."

It was clear what she had voted though. Rook gave a small shrug, giving the pastry another small bite.

"I am enjoying it. There's just a lot to do." she replied, "All I wanted to do while I was recovering was to get back to work and, well, I don't want to stop because I might be tired enough to get some sleep and…this is not a great time. I'm starting to remember other things and I'm not sure I want to go through those yet."

[cyb3rk1tt13g1rl]

If we’re gonna do anything, we might as well just fuck

Summary: You and Hamzah are best friends, but after a smoke sesh leads to a conversation about sex, feelings arise between the two of you.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, usage of weed, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, choking, dirty talk, toys, gagging

Author's note: This is my first time writing in YEARS. The last time I wrote a fic was in like middle school. Due to the lack of hamzah fanfiction (I’ve literally read all of them), I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands😈. I also made it fast paced cause I struggle with building up to the moment so forgive me💔. I also didn’t proofread so forgive me for that as well.

Word count: 1399

“I just think that sex is a beautiful thing. I mean, it's two people coming together with their only goal being pleasure” I say after taking a hit of the joint Hamzah rolled for me. He never lets me roll, in his defense I am pretty shit at it. 

“I feel like everytime we’re high, all we seem to do is talk about sex” Hamzah replies, shortly after also taking a hit of his joint.

“Maybe we can do more than just talk about it?” I say with a slight smirk on my face.

Hamzah looks at me, smoke slightly blocking the view of his eyes. The truth is, I’ve always had a bit of a crush on him. I mean, how could someone not? He’s kind, funny, understanding, and has amazing biceps. Sometimes at night when I masterbate I imagine his bicep around my throat as he’s pounding into me relentlessly.

”Y/n… you’re high.”

”So? You’re telling me that you’ve never wanted to see naked? I mean come on, if we’re gonna do anything… we might as well just fuck.”

”God…” Hamzah says, blowing out a sigh. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, y/n.” 

In a flash, he’s on top of me. My back is pressed onto my living room floor, the spot we always sit at when we have our smoke sessions. His chest presses up against me, and I can feel his bulge start to grow. As his lips meet mine harshly, my hips start to grind on him, desperately searching for any form of friction.

”If you keep doing that, we won't make it to the bedroom.” He says as he places his hands on my waist, locking them in place.

Biting my lip, “That’s ok, the floor is comfy enough” I replied.

His lips meet mine again, even harsher this time somehow. My hands start to roam around his body, trying to memorize every muscle. My hands slowly make their way down to his cock. Teasingly, I slide two fingers slightly into the elastic of his underwear.

”Ok, that’s enough” he says as he lifts me up, and starts making his way to my bedroom.

Without remorse, he shoves me onto the bed, and rips off my pajama shorts, along with my lacy underwear.

“God, y/n. Even more perfect than what I imagined.”

”Please, do something” I beg him.

”So needy, aren’t you? What do you need from me? Huh? Tell me, baby.”

”Please, please, I need your tongue on my clit. So bad. Need it so bad, H.”

With that, he kneels down, kissing the inside of my thighs teasingly.

”Hamzah, I need you right now.”

His eyes meet mine while he’s still leaving wet kisses on my thighs.

”I see you don’t like it slow.” He says as his mouth finally makes contact with my needy clit.

”Oh my god, Hamzah, yes.” I moan out. 

His mouth and tongue work relentlessly, and when he enters a finger inside me, I scream out his name.

”Yes, y/n. Scream out my name. Let the neighbors know who this pussy belongs to.”

”Yes, Hamzah. Like that, don’t change anything. Gonna cum.” I groan out as my hands find their way to his curls. My head falls back involuntarily, with my eyes closed.

”Keep your eyes on me. Want to see your face as you cum. Wouldn’t want to punish you, would we?” He tells me.

Oh, but we would.

Refusing to look back at him,  he rips his finger out of me, along with removing his mouth from my nerves.

He slaps my pussy, making me moan out even louder.

“Oh, you like that? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”, he says, slapping it again.

His mouth finds its way back to where I need him most, and with a few more licks, and sucks, I cum.

”Fuck, Hamzah!” I scream out as he helps me ride through my orgasm.

”Please fuck me. I need your cock in me so bad. Want to be your slut.” I beg.

Without saying a word, he rips his pants off, then takes off my shirt, following with my bra.

”Fuck, y/n.” He says as he eyes me up and down.

”Get on the bed. Want to ride you.” I say.

As Hamzah gets on the bed next to me, I straddle him. Before I since I sit on him, I scoot myself down a bit so that my face is perpendicular to his hard cock. 

“This is a sight I could get used to”, Hamzah tells me as his hands grab my hair, makeshiftting a hair tie.

Taking his length into my hand, I pump him a few times before my tongue makes contact with his tip. 

Rolling my tongue around in circles for a bit, I finally but my mouth around his tip.

”Jesus fuck, y/n. That’s so good.”

Due to his praise, I move my mouth further down until it hits the back of my throat, making my eyes water. With a slight gag, I remove my mouth, pumping him with the saliva left over.

He looks so good. His eyes are red and glossed over. Hair a little messy from my hands. 

Removing my hand, I finally straddle him.

Before he enters me, I reach over to my nightstand.

”Oh, I have a condom in my wallet.” He says as he tries to get up. My hands push him down, forcing him to lie back down.

”That's ok. I wasn’t looking for a condom” I reply, pulling out my vibrator.

”Are you on the pill?”

”Yes. And I haven’t had sex with anyone without a condom. I’m ok with not using a condom if you are.” I reply, as I fidget with the vibrator.

”Yes, absolutely yes I’m ok with that. I also haven’t had unprotected sex so I’m clean.”

“Perfect.” I smile at him.

FInally, I positioned his tip to my opening.

”Oh, god” I moan as I feel him stretching me out.

”Fuck y/n. You’re so beautiful. So perfect.”

Bouncing on him, I get more comfortable and turn on my vibrator.

Positioning it on my clit, my head falls back.

”Fuck y/n. I love being inside you. So fucking perfect. Like your pussy was made just for me.”

As I continue riding him, he notices that I start getting tired as my thrusts get slower.

He grabs my hips and flips us over so that my back is against my bed. He stands on his knees, grabbing my left ankle, and placing it on his right shoulder. 

I’ve never had sex like this. It’s like he can read my mind about everything I want. 

As he grabs my throat with his left hand, I’m convinced he’s actually a mind reader.

The feeling of him thrusting into me without mercy, the vibrator on my clit, and his hand on my throat makes the familiar unraveling euphoria build.

My hands grab his wrist that’s on my throat, and with that he strengthens his grip.

”You’re so pretty, y/n. Don’t know how I’ve held back for this long. Could cum just thinkin’ about you.”

“Please don’t don’t stop, gonna cum” I scream out.

”Hold on just a bit, I’m almost there.”

When his thrusts start to slow and he starts to groan more and more, i place my hands on his chest, slightly scratching him with my nails.

When he groans louder in response, I scratch harder.

”Fuck y/n. You’re gonna make me cum.”

He places a hand on my tit, with my nipple in between in pointer and middle as if it was the joint he was smoking earlier.

With the last few thrusts, I cum, and shortly after he does too.

”Fuck, could stay here forever.” Hamzah tells me.

”I’m fine with that.” I reply with a dazed smile.

When he tries to exit from me, i wrap my legs around his waist, pushing him back in, making him wince in pain  and pleasure.

”Stay in me, please. Feels nice.”  I ask

”Ok” he says with a toothy smile.

He bends down, kissing at my neck and tits interchangeably until his head meets my chest.

”I never want to move from here.” I told him.

”Let’s just sleep like this.” He replies, kissing my skin afterwards.

And sleep like that we do.

Another authors note: please be nice y’all this is my first time writing smut❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹. 

[reignpage]

hello queen reign, lady of the land of angst, hope you are having a wonderful day.

what advice would you give a fic writer who is trying to grow their blog?

hello humble subject, I am not having a wonderful day because I've officially started school again. currently sat in a conflicts of law seminar someone spare me

as for advice, I have a couple

Aesthetics

Very important

The colours/theme/layout conveys who you are as a blog creator

Are you very feminine and sweet? Are you bold, confident and sassy?

It's a way for readers to know if they'll like you

Also they're just nice to look at

They're fun to do, so go crazy and enjoy the process

It's so so so important honestly

Speaking as a reader, I won't read work that doesn't look good aesthetically I'm so shallow like that

Not everyone is like me but enough people are to care about aesthetics

Also, if your work is long, then make sure you cut the page with the 'keep reading' thing (don't know what it's called)

As a reader, I hate hate hate seeing a long ass work that I have to scroll multiple times to get through

It's annoying and a bother

Don't be that person 😭

I think tho Tumblr inserts its own automatically if the work is too long but there have been numerous occasions it hasn't so just to be sure

Clean

This links to aesthetics

But the idea is in your layout, your summary, warnings and in your actual works, try to ensure your grammar and spelling is right to the best of your abilities

This is a problem all blog creators will face throughout their journey so small typos is fine of course, I make them all the time

But if your work is full of typos and they're in your face, that tells to the readers that you a) might not be a very good writer, b) you don't care and c) this will be hard to read

So take care to do due diligence

It's a pain but proofread your work where and when you can

What I do is I write at night, I go to sleep, and in the morning (with a fresh and clear mind/perspective) I go over my work and realise things just don't make sense

Don't just post as soon as you're done, you'll regret it

Come back to it later, even just hours later, because guaranteed there will be mistakes you'll want to fix before someone sees it

Establish yourself

Didn't know how to title this but if you're just beginning, do what most creators do and take requests

It's a great way to bring people over to your blog and engage with you and also show off your writing skills

Once you've shown hey I'm creative and a skilled writer, then people will engage with your works naturally

But if you can't or don't want to do so, then engage with the community, comment on other creators' works, reply to someone else's comments

Make yourself a familiar face

Advertise accurately

By that I mean, in your summaries, make sure you're clear and you're wrapping up your work in a way that sounds like something people would want to engage with

Bring them in, entice them

Tag correctly

If your work is angst and hurt/no comfort, don't tag it with fluff

If your work is smut, don't tag it with fluff

Some people get really worked up over it and I also think it's good practice because some people search for fluff specifically to avoid smut

Don't flash someone essentially

Accessibility

Make sure your navigation is up to date and easily understandable

Think includes your masterlist

Ensure you have one and you add to it as you go

If you care a lot about engagement as opposed to just birthing your works, then remember that Tumblr is an international platform, so use language that's not too complicated or 'pretentious'.

Don't use big words for the sake of sounding smart and poetic, the most important thing is to communicate and if you can do that with something just as impactful but simpler then do so

General advice

Have a navigation

It's important because that'll be the centre of your entire blog

It's where you'll put all your links

It summarises who you are and what you do

And apart from the bio, it's the first thing someone will see when they come on your blog

Have a faq and rules

Establish your rights

You want people to like you but that doesn't mean you have to suffer discomfort or abuse for the sake of it

Establish your boundaries and be firm

If you get a negative or hateful comment/message, there's NO OBLIGATION to reply to it

Run your blog like a dictatorship

If they don't like the way you do things, then they can fuck off

I got more hate when I was first starting out than I do now so I think trolls like to target smaller creators because they know these creators are too young and experienced to know that the things they say are not a reflection of you but rather of the haters

Most importantly

Enjoy yourself.

Write for fun and for yourself as opposed to writing out of obligation

People on here have a way of dehumanising you, they want you to push out content at their whim

Don't cave in

This is not a job, they are not your boss, they are not paying you

There's a lot of positivity but there's negativity here and there, so just be aware and stay strong