#thank you so much for this ask again anon!!

[trashytracktales]

girl hi hi hi hi i am in love with your writing 😩😩

as someone who’s terrified by getting her driver license can i request boyfriend Lando giving you driving lessons and you know, good old soft dom lando giving you INSTRUCTIONS and praising you !! You know what i mean? 🥹🥹

and ofc throwing in a lil nice smut won’t be bad idk

Maybe this way i’ll feel inspired to finally get my license

(gorgeous gorgeous girls are obsessed with cars but scared to drive 🤩)

ily T!!

Fast learner | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── First of all, you got this, babe!! Getting your license can be scary, I remember being absolutely terrified. It definitely takes time and determination, but you can do it, I promise 🤞🏻 Also, so sorry it took me AGES, but I am struggling to finish my works lately *sad sounds idk*. I hope I did this one justice though. Fingers crossed and let me know when you get that license, queen. Enjoy 🤍✨

. ݁₊ ⊹ summary ──── Lando surprises his girlfriend with a gift she can’t say no to. Despite her fear, his guidance helps her gain confidence behind the wheel. But back home, the lessons continue in a much more intimate way, as Lando makes sure she knows just how good she is at following his instructions, both on and off the track.

. ݁₊ ⊹ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ rating ──── explicit

. ݁₊ ⊹ category ──── F/M

. ݁₊ ⊹ warnings ──── 18+, driving anxiety, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, sexual metaphors & euphemisms, light choking, soft dom!Lando.

. ݁₊ ⊹ word count ──── 5.6k

. ݁₊ ⊹ date ──── Feb. 28, 2025

WHEN SHE OPENS her eyes, the first thing she notices is that his familiar heat is pressing on her from every direction. With Lando’s arm resting like a sluggish weight around her waist and his fingertips brushing the exposed flesh beneath the hem of his hoodie, which she had stolen before bed, she feels secure in the warmth they’ve created.

His nose is buried in the crook of her neck, and the second thing she notices is the quiet, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against her back, his steady breathing blending with the morning silence, and the delicate, smooth kisses he’s planting on her skin.

The girl shifts slightly, only for him to tighten his grip, pulling her closer; she smiles, understanding he is already awake.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asks Lando, his voice languid.

Her body is melting back into his embrace, Lando’s slightly aggressive curiosity making her giggle. “Nowhere.”

“Good,” he presses a tender kiss to her shoulder, then another, trailing his lips back up the curve of her neck. “Because it’s your birthday, and I get to hold you for as long as I want.”

She smiles again, her heart swelling at the way he always makes her feel like she is most important thing in the world.

“That’s exactly what you said when it was your birthday,” she reminds him. “And last Friday, when it was… just Friday.”

“Still applies, as you can see,” he speaks softly against her skin. “Happy birthday, my love.”

A mellow hum leaves her as she turns in his arms, finally opening her eyes to meet his. They’re still laced with sleep, heavy-lidded and warm, the early, weak sunlight filtering through the curtains and cascading all over his face. His hair is a mess, his cheek faintly creased from the pillow, but she thinks he’s never looked more beautiful than he does in the mornings. Mostly because no one but her knows that his eyes are incredibly clear when he opens them for the first time. Or that his hands, still asleep, do not grasp her with the same strength they do at night, but have a tenderness she knows she will never find anywhere else, except their own bed.

“Thank you, pretty boy,” she whispers, running a gentle finger over his jaw, then following the pillow marks up his cheek. Lightly, she cups his face, her thumb pressing on his dimple, making Lando grin.

He leans in to nuzzle his nose against hers before capturing her lips in a sleepy, lazy kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that lingers, tender and sweet, the kind that makes her toes curl under the blanket. His hand skims up her side, slipping beneath the hoodie, fingers brushing against warm skin as he pulls her impossibly closer.

When they part, he sighs contentedly, resting his forehead against hers. “Sorry for waking you up.”

She hums, “You can wake me up like this everyday.”

“Yeah?” Lando giggles. “I actually had half a mind to let you sleep in, but I got too excited.”

She laughs softly. “Excited for what?”

Instead of answering, Lando reaches over to the nightstand to grab a small, beautifully wrapped box. He holds it out to her, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Her brows knit together as she pushes herself up onto her elbows. For a second, she thinks he’s about to propose, but he looks way too relaxed for that, which makes her question everything she knows about her boyfriend.

“What did you do, Lando?” she asks. “I told you no gifts this year.”

He smirks, nudging the box toward her. “It is not a gift. Think of it as an... investment. Come on, just open it.”

She hesitates, much more suspicious now, casting Lando a tamed look before carefully removing the ribbon. The paper falls away, revealing a sleek black velvet box. Her heart picks up its pace as she flicks it open and finds out that inside, resting against the dark fabric, is a car key.

She blinks, confused.

The logo gleams up at her, adding to her state.

“Lan…” she stares at the key, then back at him, as if waiting for him to laugh and tell her it’s all a joke. “This is a car key.”

Lando nods, biting his lip to keep from bursting into laughter. “Your dream car’s key,” he corrects her.

Her stomach flips violently. “No way. No. Lando, no. Absolutely not,” she keeps saying, shaking her head. “That’s too much,” she adds, shoving the box toward him as if it burns to touch. “You did not buy me a car for my stupid birthday.”

Incapable to hold his laugh any further, Lando lets out a little giggle. His voice is light, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his expression when he speaks again, “It’s not stupid. I wanted to. I’ve been planning this for a while now.”

She gapes at him, her brain struggling to process. “You bought me a Porsche.”

He shrugs, reaching for her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers. “I bought you your Porsche. The exact one you’ve been obsessing since forever,” he leans in, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Don’t make me beg you to accept it. You deserve it and I can afford it, so just—”

“It’s not about deserving, Lando,” her heart swells, but panic creeps in. “I appreciate you for doing this, but I don’t even have a driver’s license. And I’m definitely not ready to get it any time soon. So please, can you take it back?”

His facial expression turns mischievous, raising a finger in the air, “Oh, no. You are ready. Which brings us to the second part of your present,” he says, tapping her nose playfully before throwing the covers off and getting up. “Get a comfy pair of shoes on. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

She looks at him warily. “Where exactly?”

Lando smirks, stretching before tugging a hoodie over his head. “Driving lessons,” he says, pointing at himself, “With me.”

Her stomach drops. “Lando, no.”

“Lando, yes,” he winks, crossing the room to where she sits on the bed, still in shock. “Baby, I know you’re terrified, but I wanna show you it’s not as scary as you think. It’ll be fun, I promise. And if not, we can stop at any time.”

Her lips part, but no words come out, only a strangled noise that makes Lando chuckle. He crouches in front of her, taking her hands in his, looking up at her. Sometimes, she thinks that the way he does it is so annoying, because she can’t say no when he gives her those puppy eyes. She realizes, looking back at him, that chances are Lando is even more excited than she is, which makes her feel a little guilty.

“Look, it’s okay to be nervous,” he says gently, pressing a kiss to her palm, “But I’ll be right there with you.”

Her chest tightens — not from anxiety this time, but from the sheer love she feels for this man, and for the way he always knows how to push her while making her feel safe.

She ends up nodding and, with that, Lando pulls her into a lingering kiss, as if sealing the promise between them.

WHEN LANDO SAID driving lessons, she thought he meant a quiet, empty parking lot somewhere in the city. Or maybe a back road with little to no traffic. What she did not expect was an entire race track at their disposal.

It’s February, and the cold still bites through the air, the kind of chill that seeps into her bones despite the heat blasting inside the car. The sky is now a heavy shade of gray, fluffy clouds stretching endlessly above the open space of the Silverstone Circuit. The grandstands stand empty, ghostly in their silence, the wind whistling through the steel framework.

Her hands tighten into fists as she stares at the massive expanse of the track. She’s been here before, sure, but she’s never seen this place so devoid of people and so lifeless. What strikes her, though, is that it doesn’t even matter, because the circuit has the same beauty — perhaps even more alluring when it’s not animated by the roar of people and the deafening sound of engines. It’s almost haunting. She can’t shake the feeling that it’s the same place where world-class drivers push their limits at blinding speeds, where Lando himself has raced countless times. And just for tooday, it belongs entirely to them.

Her heart pounds harder in her chest as she’s turning to look at him, “You got me Silverstone for my first driving lesson?”

Lando smirks, shutting the engine off. “Had to pull some strings, no biggie.” He looks back at her, his eyes gleaming with excitement under the thick, long lashes. “I didn’t want anything to distract you or to feel any external pressure. Just us, and your car.”

Her car.

She still hasn’t fully processed it. She spent the entire two-hour drive here just staring at it, running her fingers over the pristine leather seat when Lando wasn’t looking, and tracing the sleek dashboard, memorizing every detail. It smells brand new, the engine purring under his control like a well-tamed beast. But now, as he opens his door and steps out, the reality of what comes next hits her, and panic creeps up her spine once again.

She grips the seatbelt tightly, her fingers going numb, as she watches Lando walk around the car. He looks so at ease, so effortlessly confident as he gestures for her to switch places. Meanwhile, she feels like she could throw up in T minus five seconds.

“Come on, baby,” he calls, grinning as he taps the roof of the car. “Time to make you a driver.”

Yes, that sounds good. And yes, she wants this. She really does. But the moment she steps out into the cold air and faces the car from the driver’s side, the same doubt settles deep in her chest. It’s not that she’s scared of driving — well, she is. But that’s not the only reason why she postoned getting her license for so long. The simple thought makes her stomach flip, because she knows that the second she puts foot in a car, so many things can go wrong, especially if you’re afraid.

Lando notices her hesitance immediately, and his playful grin softens as he steps closer. “Hey,” he says, tilting his head. “What’s bothering you, hm? Talk to me.”

The girl exhales shakily. “I’m not sure about this, Lando. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Of course you can,” says Lando in a determined voice.

She looks at the car, then at the track ahead of them. “It’s...” her voice trails off, trying to come up with the best excuse and go back home to nestle between their warm sheets.

“It’s just tarmac, baby,” Lando’s tone is calm and reassuring. “It’s no different than any other road. Just bigger. Safer, actually.”

Her arms wrap around herself instinctively, bracing against the cold, but mostly against her own emotions. “What if I mess up?”

“Then you mess up,” he shrugs, “That’s what learning is, isn’t it?”

She knows he’s right, but the fear still lingers, coiling tight in her stomach. “And if I crash?”

“You won’t crash,” he answers with the same determination yet slightly amused, taking her by surprise, because Lando uses that voice only when he is sure of what he’s saying.

She scoffs, “Sure, how do you know that?”

Lando smiles, reaching for her hands, rubbing warmth into her fingers before bringing them up to his lips. “Because I am here.”

Ha.

She nods slowly, suddenly realizing that there’s no going back — not when Lando is so committed to show her a side of herself that even she’s not aware of. And the fact that he believes in her does something to her brain; it gives her a bit more confidence and courage. She’s seen Lando drive countless of times before. She watched him, his movements instinctive, so measured and smooth that it’s become second nature to him. Maybe she can try to replicate that to a certain degree.

For her own sake, she owes him that.

“Alright,” she manages to say, her voice much tamer than expected.

“That’s my girl,” he presses one last kiss to her knuckles before stepping back, gesturing to the driver’s seat. “Get in there.”

With a deep breath, she finally slides into the driver’s seat, and her entire body tense as she grips the steering wheel; it feels hard under her touch, yet delicate at the same time. Lando follows, settling into his place effortlessly, like this is just another normal day at the track for him.

“Okay,” Lando starts, his voice patient. “First, get comfortable. Adjust your seat, mirrors, whatever you need. Make sure you see everything and, most importantly, make sure you feel everything. All the points where your body makes contact with the car, yeah?” he watches her nodding, swallowing the lump in her throat, then adds, “There is no rush, so take your time. We’ve got plenty.”

Her movements are stiff and mechanical as she reaches for the seat adjustment; she can feel her pulse in her fingertips while she does it. Then, she places her hands on the steering wheel, feeling it firm under her grip, and she suddenly becomes hyper-aware of how tight her fingers become around it.

“Babe,” says Lando, noticing she’s still fighting on the inside. “Relax your hands. You don’t need to strangle it.”

She forces herself to loosen her grip, but her fingers still tremble slightly.

“That’s better,” Lando reaches over, placing a hand on her knee to ground her.

She inhales sharply, then exhales, trying to shake the nerves. Lando waits until she goes through everythig he’s just instructed her, without rushing or teasing at her hesitation. He’s just there, a constant presence that makes her feel more comfortable.

And then, “Think of it like when you’re on top,” he continues casually.

Her head whips toward him, eyes wide. “What?”

Lando’s expression changes, looking like he’s just mentally high-fived himself for the comparison. “When you’re on top, you’re in control,” he reminds her. “You set the pace. You decide how fast or slow you wanna go,” his fingers tighten on her thigh as he leans in slightly, his voice dipping lower. “The car will respond to everything you do. Try it. I’m here to guide you.”

“Lando.”

He keeps going, completely undeterred, “Baby, I know you know how to move. It’s all about finding that rhythm,” he says, his fingers tapping against her thigh for emphasis. “It’s literally the same thing. Smooth, steady, no sudden jerks. And when you’re ready to pick up speed…” Lando grins, his eyes darkening just slightly. “Well. You know what happens then.”

A laugh bursts from her chest, all the tension snapping like a rubber band. She slaps his arm away, her face heating at his ridiculous but so on-brand analogy. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he teases, laying back in his chair, “You’re finally breathing properly now.”

She blinks, realizing he’s right. The tightness in her chest has eased, her grip on the wheel no longer desperate. Her shoulders have dropped, her muscles loosening bit by bit. Lando sees the realization settling over her, content that he managed to put other images inside her head in order to make it easier to handle.

He chuckles, then gestures toward the track in front of them, “Alright, birthday girl. Ready to take me for a ride?”

She groans, covering her face with one hand. “You just can’t stop, can you?”

“Nope,” he says after a moment. “Foot on the brake.”

Instinctively, her foot finds the pedal, pressing down tentatively.

“Now, start the car.”

She swallows hard and reaches for the ignition button. The engine roars to life beneath her fingertips, smooth and powerful, vibrating through her entire body.

At the sound, Lando grins proudly. “There she is.” His hands go to rest on the armrest, his thumb brushing the fabric lightly. He watches carefully as she moves to adjust the mirrors with a focused look in her eyes. “Good,” he continues, his voice a soft command that she knows so well. “Now, keep the wheel steady, just like we talked about. Look ahead. Your eyes should be on the next corner, not the one you just passed.”

She nods, keeping her focus on the track.

“So, this car is rear-engined, which means most of the weight is at the back. That makes it a little trickier to handle if you throw it into a corner too fast. But,” Lando pauses, looking at her intently to assure her there’s nothings to be afraid of, “I’m here to make sure you drive it right.”

She scoffs nervously, “Is there a wrong way to drive it?”

“Plenty, actually. Relax your hold I said,” he instructs her again, “Baby, if it’s too tight, you won’t feel what the car is telling you.”

“Telling me?” she echoes, glancing at him with furrowed brows.

Lando nods, “Yeah. The car talks to you, just not with words. It tells you when it wants to rotate, when it has grip, when you need to be gentle or when you can push,” he says, gesturing toward the long straight. “Speaking of. Go on, give it some gas.”

Her heart jumps into her throat, but she listens, pressing down on the accelerator tentatively. The car responds instantly, surging forward with smooth, controlled aggression. She gasps, the force pressing her back against the seat, and Lando chuckles beside her.

“That’s it,” he praises. “A lot of power, hm?”

She lets out a breathy laugh, still nervous but slowly melting into the feeling of it all.

“Next, the corners,” Lando adds, eyes locked on the road as they approach one. “You want to brake before you turn, not while you’re turning. That’s how you keep it stable.”

She follows his words, pressing down on the brakes a little too early, but the car slows smoothly.

“Good,” he says, nodding approvingly. “Turn in,” he pauses, lips quirking into a smirk. “Like the way you move your hips when you ride me. Controlled, but with intention.”

Her foot nearly slips off the pedal. “Lando, stop that!” she squeaks, turning her head for a second, just to glare at him.

She feels the tires gripping the asphalt in a way that sends a thrill through her, despite the nerves still buzzing beneath the surface.

“I’m trying to speak your language,” he laughs, “Ease off the throttle and prepare to brake again,” Lando’s voice is smooth, “Yes, keep your foot light on the brake. Feel it?”

She does. While following his instructions, gently, she eases her foot off the gas, then applies just the right pressure to the brake, her heart racing with each turn. Lando watches her closely, but she can tell he’s holding back, not overloading her with instructions but guiding her just enough so she feels the car’s movements.

“Perfection,” he praises as she hits the apex of the corner, the car hugging the track with a controlled grace. “Accelerate again, gently. Let the car do the work for you. Don’t overthink it.”

She hesitates for a moment, her fingers adjusting their grip on the wheel, before she picks up speed, feeling the engine roaring beneath her. Despite the fear gnawing at her, there’s a strange thrill beginning to bubble inside, a sense of freedom she’s never felt before. She can feel the car responding to her, listening to her movements, exactly like Lando told her it will. Which makes her eager to go faster, to push.

But as she rounds another corner, a new wave of uncertainty floods her chest, and she glances over at her boyfriend again. “Lando, I don’t know…”

“You do,” Lando’s voice is almost a growl, “Bury your foot on the pedal. See what this car is capable of.”

Her pulse quickens, but there’s more excitement behind it now. With Lando’s words echoing in her mind, she takes a deep breath, presses her foot into the pedal, and feels the car surge beneath her. For a moment, he senses her hesitation, but then the car roars to life, and she feels the pull and the adrenaline racing through her veins. The acceleration is immediate and, before she knows it, the world outside blurs, the track stretching out before her like an endless ribbon.

To her surprise, she loves the feeling.

Next time he speaks, Lando’s words sound like a whisper over the roar of the engine, “That’s it, baby,” his eyes sparkle with approval, and she can hear the pride in his voice all over again. “You did it!”

THERE IS A faint smell of leftover takeout that lingers in the air, blending with the sweet vanilla of the birthday muffins he insisted on getting as dessert. There will be a cake and they’ll get to properly celebrate with her friends at the end of the week but, until then, her birthday was a success, topped with adrenaline and excitement, which she never thought she would ever enjoy.

Now, she stands by the full-length closet mirror, running a brush through her hair, the weight of the day settling into her body. It was terrifying yet thrilling in ways she hadn’t expected. What surprises her even more is her sudden desire to get back in the driver’s seat. She’s slowly realizing how addictive the feeling she experienced on the track is, and even though she knows that driving around the city won’t compare to what Lando offered her today, she feels — perhaps for the first time in her life — ready to take that step.

Lando moves behind her right after she puts the brush down, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing his chest against her back.

“So, when can I drive again?” he hears her asking in a teasing voice, though there’s a genuine spark of nervousness behind it.

He smirks against the curve of her neck, lips barely brushing her skin. “You can give me another ride now, since you insist,” Lando suggests, his voice dripping with smugness.

She rolls her eyes and, twisting in his hold, she faces him, her hands sliding up his chest, fingertips tracing the contours of his collarbones. “Sounds good, but aren’t you afraid that too much control will get to my head?”

“Not at all.”

Lando steps forward, kissing her with enough force to show her that he means every word. His hands are now everywhere — on her hips, up and down her back, in her hair, then gripping her thighs as he lifts her effortlessly. She lets a surprised gasp into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist as he presses her back against the mirror. It’s hard against her skin, a stark contrast to the softness rolling off him in waves.

Her fingers end up tangling in his soft curls, tugging just enough to make Lando groan, a sound she’s never learned how to properly react to, since it drives her wild every single time she hears it. He tastes like the vanilla from the muffin that they shared earlier, so sweet and sinful.

When he comes back to his senses, Lando brushes his nose against hers, his voice hushed but firm, “I’m so proud of you, you know that?” he asks in a whispered voice. “You’re gonna do great.”

A shiver runs down her spine, not just from his words but from the unwavering belief behind them. Lando has always been her greatest cheerleader, the one who never let her doubt herself, even when she wanted to.

Her exhale is soft as a baby’s breath, fueled by the praise that sets her skin ablaze. “Lando,” she whispers, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck.

He chuckles, the sound of it full of want. “Right here, baby. What do you need?”

She can’t use her words at the moment. Instead, she just presses herself closer to him, silently telling him what she needs. And Lando gets the message loud and clear. With a firm grip, he walks them toward the bed, her body flush against his.

Clothes come off in a frenzy: her shirt lifted over her head, his sweatpants kicked away, her underwear dragged down her thighs in a rush. His lips are on her skin the entire time, trailing fire along her collarbones, down the valley between her breasts and over the curve of her stomach.

When she’s bare beneath him, he pulls back, drinking her in.

“Want on top?” asks Lando, a little smirk hanging in the corner of his mouth.

The girl shakes her head, “You first,” she teases, already breathless.

He doesn’t answer, but runs a hand down his face before gripping her thighs and flipping her onto her stomach. She gasps as he positions himself behind her, big hands spreading across her waist. Lando’s fingers flex, gripping her like she belongs to him in ways neither of them can describe, but both agree on.

Gently, he presses a kiss to her shoulder blade, then another, before dragging his teeth along her heated skin. “Let me show you how high confidence can get you, baby.”

And then, he pushes inside.

A muffled moan spills from her lips, her back arching hard into him as he bottoms out, filling her completely. He presses his lips in a thin line at the feeling, at the way she welcomes him so perfectly, clenching around him like she was made for this. It’s hard to keep quiet, yet he wants to give himself the priviledge of being able to feel her like this a little longer.

“God, you feel so good,” he mumbles, his hands sliding up to her shoulders, fingers curling around them.

“Move then,” she orders, managing to get a chuckle out of him.

Lando’s thrusts are calculated at first, dragging along every sensitive spot inside her, pulling sounds out of her that go straight to his cock. But then he shifts, picking up speed, pounding into her with a precision that leaves her gasping further more.

Before she knows it, she’s drowning in all of it. The feeling of him, the way he takes control, and how patient he is with her.

“Lando,” she whines, voice muffled against the sheets.

“I know, baby,” he breathes, bending over her, pressing a hand to the pillow beside her head. “Just take it.”

He switches between teasing strokes and deep, hard thrusts, keeping her on edge, making her feel every inch of is length. The air around them is charged, filled with the scent of skin and something intoxicatingly sweet. Heat clings to them, heavy and thick, as if the room itself is suddenly caught in the same fever they are.

When he feels her tightening around him way too soon, Lando doesn’t hesitate to flip her onto her back again, eyes locked onto hers as he slides home once more. She whimpers at the quick change, at the way he goes so deep in this new position, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him even closer. Lando whimpers, dropping his forehead to hers, breath ragged against her lips.

“Look at you,” he can barely speak, “So. Good.”

She shivers at the praise, nails raking down his back, grounding herself in the heat of his skin. He watches her, pupils blown wide, drinking in every expression that flits across her face, from the parted lips and the way her brows knit together as pleasure overwhelms her, to the sheer need burning in her gaze. It’s almost too much for him, but the desire to see her crumbling for him like that is stronger.

The roll of his hips, every stretch, and every inch of him pressing into her it’s enough to send shudders through her body. He feels her everywhere: surrounding him, clinging to him like she’s planning to never let him go. And fuck, he never wants her to.

His hands roam her body, admiring every soft dip of her skin. One traces the swell of her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple before his lips follow, dragging warm, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, her neck, and anywhere he can reach. She tilts her head back, offering more of herself to him, and he groans against her skin, nipping at her pulse just to feel the way she gasps.

“Harder,” she breathes in such wrecked manner that sends a bolt of heat straight through him.

His body tenses for a split second before a sudden hunger flickers in his eyes. No hesitation. No teasing. Just a low, guttural curse as he grips her hips and thrusts into her with purpose, each snap of his hips punishing in the best way possible.

“That good for you?” he rasps, voice tight with control, but his pace says he’s barely holding on. She nods, but it’s not enough for him. Lando grips her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Let me hear you.”

“Yes,” she moans, voice breaking as he drives into her harder. “Yes, you feel so good, baby. Don’t stop...”

Lando finds the strength to smile at her, watching her slowly coming undone beneath him, her body arching, legs tightening around his waist. “Won’t,” he assures her, “You take it so well, it drives me crazy,” he groans, his hand sliding between them, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling, teasing.

Her legs start trembling around his waist, and he knows she’s close. He can feel it in the way her body is betraying her, spasming around him, the way her breaths grow uneven, and how her hands tighten in his hair as if anchoring herself to him.

“Mhm,” he hums, his forehead pressed to hers. “Ready to come with me, love?”

She doesn’t have time to answer as she moans his name, a cry lost in their furtive kiss, just as her body tightens around him, pulling him over the edge right with her. His repetitive moans are maddening as he spills inside her, hips jerking, hands gripping her with a force that’s going to leave marks.

After that, he refuses to move. They just breathe, chests colliding against each other, bodies pressed so tightly together that it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Then, Lando tilts his head, pressing another lazy kiss to her lips before whispering against them. “Best student I’ve ever had.”

She laughs, smacking his shoulder, but she doesn’t deny it.

A shiver rolls down Lando’s spine as he pulls out, his body thrumming with aftershocks, oversensitive but still craving her. His eyes flutter shut for a second at the feeling — she’s still so tight, greedily clenching around nothing, the evidence of their release slick between them, a mess they should deal with but won’t. Not yet.

His cock, still heavy and slick, rests between them, twitching slightly as he leans down to kiss her again. It’s slow, languid, an extension of the pleasure still simmering in the air between them. His lips move against hers with a practiced ease, his body pressing into her as if he’s trying to mold them into one.

Then, his hand finds her neck. He squeezes lightly, just enough to make her breath hitch; his smirk against her lips is pure sin.

“Get on top,” he orders, voice thick with something commanding. His hands find her hips again, thumbs stroking the heated skin there. “I want you to reproduce every single thing I explained to you at the circuit today. Show me what you learned,” he provokes her, eyes dark with challenge.

She bites the inside of her cheek, chest burning at the way he looks at her — his lips parted, eyes filled with lust —, fueling her desire to show off.

Slowly, she sinks down onto him, gasping at the way he stretches her as if he wasn’t inside her not even two minutes ago. She lifts herself before easing back down, soon finding a rhythm that makes him curse under his breath.

“Keep your grip firm,” Lando instructs, trailing his fingers up her spine. “Don’t be afraid to push a little harder.”

She presses her hands to his chest and moves faster, earning a deep, satisfied moan from him.

“Fuck,” Lando swears under his breath, eyes flickering between her face and the way she moves on top of him. “Such a fast learner.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ��˖ . ݁ 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

[hhughes]

𐔌 　 ⁺　 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𓂃۶ৎ

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 , after some comments were made by quinn's brothers, you get a little insecure in your relationship and he has to reassure you

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. luke!bsf x quinn hughes. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. teasing. flirting. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. I love writing quinn so much😭 this is a repost that’s slightly edited if it looks a little familiar to you. one of my favs things ive ever written to this day so thanks again to the anon who requested it! <333

you and quinn had been dating a few months now. sneaking around behind everyone's backs including luke. your best friend and quinn's youngest brother.

the four of you were sitting in the living room at the lake house, watching some movie. jack and luke were chirping quinn about some actress that he used to have a crush on. going on and on about how he had a thing for older women because he was such a mommas boy.

you laughed along at first, always finding it so endearing to watch the brothers bicker back and forth. even though you've been around to witness it for quite a few years now...it never got old. your smile quickly faded when jack started making comments about how all quinn's relationships with younger women has failed, and that he should go for someone older this time, cause it doesn't seem like the younger girls can handle him.

you know you shouldn't let these comments bother you. it wasn't that serious and it wasn't directed towards you, but it was one of your, if not the biggest insecurity you had when it came to your relationship with quinn. being four years younger than him. not being enough to keep him interested. these comments from two people who probably knew him the best, didn't do anything to reassure you.

"I'll be right back," you whisper, avoiding quinn's eyes as you make your way to the bathroom.

a few minutes later there's a soft knock on the door and quinn enters, when you answer, shutting the door behind him and coming over to where you're standing in front of the sink. he wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you closer and kissing your shoulder softly.

"what's wrong sweetheart?" he asks you softly, brushing the hair out of your face as he holds you tight. the time he’s had to spent close to you but not allowed to touch you, having taken its toll on him.

"nothing," you mumble and he puts his hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him and pushing you against the counter.

"don't lie to me. I know you well enough to know everything's not okay and even if I didnt this pout is enough to tell me there's something wrong." quinn says, rubbing circles on your hip and tracing your lips with the thumb of his other hand.

"do you think I'm too young for you?" the words fly out before you can stop them and quinn sighs, knowing his brother's comments was the cause of this.

"age is just a number baby," quinn says teasingly, kissing your lips softly and you sigh.

"quinn I'm being serious," you retort, grabbing both of his hands and holding them in yours, the way they were caressing you becoming a little too distracting.

"so am I. I don't care if you're four years younger or four years older or if you were born the exact same day I was. It doesn't change the fact that you're perfect for me. you know how jack is, especially if he's been drinking, he can't keep his mouth shut. if there's an opportunity to chirp me about something, he’s gonna take it. if they knew that we were together, he would be more careful about making remarks like that. you know both of them adore you and would never say anything to hurt you on purpose" quinn says and you bite the inside of your cheek, knowing he was right.

“and besides, those relationships didn’t work out because they just weren’t the right girl for me baby. not because they were younger. they just weren’t you�� he says softly, pressing yet another kiss to your collarbone.

"i’m not ready to tell luke yet." you say and quinn nods, expecting that response from you.

"the longer we wait, the worse it's gonna be." quinn replies and you look down, not wanting to argue about this. again.

quinn sighs softly before taking his hand out of yours and cupping your face between his palms, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"god it's torture seeing you all day and not being able to touch you. kiss you." he says wrapping his arms around your waist and just hugging you for a few minutes. you smile a bit, thinking that this is exactly why he was nicknamed "huggy bear". your guy loves hugging.

"I'll sneak into your room tonight. if you think a young girl like me can handle you," you quip and quinn chuckles, knowing you're not gonna let that go for a while.

"I think you can handle me just fine baby" quinn smirks, slapping your ass as you walk past him, and out the door.

𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. thank you for reading and feel free to drop by the inbox and share any and all thoughts <333

[bnyf]

╭﹕୨୧﹒ yandere pirate x willing mermaid reader ♡

┊ warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic, suggestive, stalkholm syndrome, kidnapping, size difference

╰﹕୨୧﹒ authoress note : requested ♡ still having trouble writing smut but i'll get there! thank you anon for requesting apologies for how long this took ^_^

greedy fucking man. so, so greedy. he's so manly too. such an earthly being with all his earthly cravings. him and his men, moving from island to island to plunder every village and kingdom of it's golds, treasures and riches.

god, men were such pleasure bonded creatures. men are greedy.

and yet you admired them, and yet you loved them, wanted to be like them, walk in their shoes. you had no idea just how cruel men were. but you were about to find out.

you'd always swim up to the surface to watch humans, to study and observe what they were like. sure, your father had told you all the tall tales about how horrible humans were, yet you choose not to believe him. foolish.

worst yet, you wanted to be like those beings, which scared your father and made him ban you from going on the syrface again. but when did a dumb little fish like you ever listen to the echos of the back of the hallow head of yours? better yet, those who know better like your father?

exactly. that's why your now his property.

whomst? you may ask? the very same greedy pirate, that barbaric man, that your father warned you about.

you were not supposed to be on the surface, espcially at night. but you wanted to spy on the pirates who'd crashed in for the night. pirates don't usually park there boats up on land but when they do, it's probably to plot a raid.

and then little ole you got carried away, trying to steal a few goods from the humans when you were shamelessy caught by no other than the crew's captain. a large, muscular, bulk of a man. his eyes gave everything away though, those dark orbs held nothing but humanly desire and evil in them.

"well, well, well," his barren of a voice rumbled from his chest, speaking to you in a low tone. "are you lost, little mermaid? shh, it's alright dear, i won't hurt a sweet little thing like you. i promise. but, i won't return you either, since you're in my territory, you belong to me. finders keepers, amiright?"

he snatched you up like nothing and dragged you even further away from the ocean. and you helplessly wiggled in his grasp. from then on, he ordered his men to build a little portal fish tank, just good enough for you to fit and swin from point A to point B.

you were restricted heavily, being only allowed to see him and speak to him. any crewmate who dares hold any sort of interaction with you would be slaughtered mercilessly and their body thrown overboard. to say the captain was infatuated with you would be a mere understatment. that man wanted to curl up into your mind and preoccupy it 24/7.

you were treated like a pet. fed, bathed, and completely taken care of, all your needs and wants were meet each time, all you had was to do was say it and he'd present it. he has too much gold, jewels, diamonds, lavish silks, treasures, ect. anyways. he doesn't like sharing but now with his littld mermaid darling here? he might as well rip out his heart and present it to you. he wants to share his entire life with you, and hopefully you'd want that too right?

his words like poison, his calloused hands that have killed to many to count always wrapped around you, those insane eyes drinking you down like a gold glass of water on a sunny day, and his long beautiful unkept hair, braids messt and all tickling your face.

his voice made you wonder if he were a siren in disguise.

"have you had enough for the evening darling? or is your appetite insatiable like mines?" he cracked a chuckle, his lips touching your ears. that man did not care if he was wetting his clothes everytime he had to get phsyical with you. and that meant two things actually, if you know what i mean~

you of course noded. at this point you've accepted this and have become completely compliant. you were strange to him. sure. women would fling themselves at him, he had no qualms with getting laid but you? you were confused, then curious, now complaint and it made him wonder if you wanted this all along.

it made him confident actually. he didn't hold back to be weird, touchy or crazy over you. because you liked it, right? you loved when his hands roamed your body, when he explored you, his crazy words like "if you dare look at another man on this boat i'll punish you serverly... after i've killed that motherfucker of course."

and

"you belong to me, you're sole purpose is to bear my children, entertain me, and enjoy all the amazing pleasures this world has to offer. do you understand? if you do, say 'yes husband'."

and you did. you nod in agreement to him and uttered those words like it was nothing. he loved you for that. he didn't have to do to much to break you, you were already broken to begin with.

but he wanted to see just how far gone you were... so, one lovely midnight, after a harsh day of pirate work (read: plundering, killing, raiding, conquring all that belonged to him, rightfully.) your beloved husband took you to the sea for the first time in ages, watching you seemlessly swim about as your scales on your tail shimmer like diamonds in the pale moonlight, and that beautiful iridescent color shines through it, as though it's almost transparent. he can see through your lower half a little like an angel fish.

he only marvels at your wonderfulness. but when you swam up to him, placing your hand on his beating chest and looking up at him with nothing but love and admiration. something in him just... snapped. you were so much smaller than him, most your body mass being your tail. his strong arms reach for your waist his mind was going insane with lust. a beautiful being like yourself had such feelings for him despite the fact that he kidnapped you and kept you away from society.

was it stalkholm syndrom?... well, whatever it was now he knew for sure you were just as insane as him and it wasn't just fear why you were complyubg to him.

there was no formalities whatsoever. not even a plain subtle kiss, he straight on kissed your lips and stuck his tongue inside your mouth. a wet, messy make out session before you'd feel his length poking you.

it will be an entirely long night for you both.

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

Your work is amazing, I love the way you interpret Simon’s personality and speech patterns in the prosthetic arm Simon fic.❤️

hello, anon! thank you so much for the kind words. i just wanted to take this opportunity to post this deleted part of prosthetic arm simon.

sfw. angst (?). highschool dropout simon. shame.

the prosthetic is finished.

it fits like a second skin. moves smooth, seamless, with no lag between thought and motion. it’s perfect. better than anything he could’ve gotten himself. better than the overpriced models he looked at years ago, wondering if he could stomach the debt just to feel normal again.

and for a moment, as he flexes his fingers, as he watches the metal articulate like flesh, he feels… proud. proud of you, of your work, of the precision in every detail. he turns his hand over, watching the way the joints move, the faint hum of technology so advanced he still doesn’t fully understand it.

but then— the thought creeps in, unbidden, unwelcome.

his throat tightens.

does this mean he doesn’t have an excuse to see you anymore?

his fingers still, mid-motion.

the past few months have been good. better than he expected. seeing you, talking to you, getting to know you beyond the surface-level interactions he usually keeps with people.

but now?

now there’s no more check-ups. no more adjustments. no more need for him to stop by so you can make small tweaks, run diagnostics, ensure everything’s running smoothly.

simon swallows, something cold curling in his chest. he tells himself he’s being ridiculous. that if he really wanted to see you, he could just— just call, just text, just ask.

but that’s not how he works.

he’s spent so long just coasting with people. staying at arm’s length, keeping interactions simple, necessary, easy to walk away from.

but you? you’re not easy to walk away from.

“you did good,” he says, and he means it. he just hopes you can’t hear everything else under it.

you don’t seem to notice his unease, too excited as you bounce on your heels, practically beaming.

“oh- i have news!”

he blinks. tries to steady himself. “yeah?"

“my thesis got picked to be presented at congress!”

it takes him a second. longer than it should. he hears the words, knows what they mean, but they feel far away, like his mind is still caught in the spiral from before.

but then he sees the way you’re looking at him, the pure joy on your face, and something inside him lurches

“shit,” he breathes. “that’s- that’s incredible.”

and it is. you deserve this. you deserve more than this.

he shows up to the congress.

he doesn’t tell you he’s coming. he doesn’t even decide until the last minute, standing in front of his closet, staring at the one half-decent button-up he owns.

but then he’s there, standing outside the venue, and he brings flowers.

he’s never done that before. never even bought flowers before, really. but he stands outside the venue, fingers tight around the cheap bouquet, feeling ridiculous and out of place.

he feels out of place.

too big, too rough, too obviously not part of the sleek, academic crowd milling around in suits and dresses. he tugs at his sleeves, shifting his weight, half-ready to just leave the flowers somewhere and go before—

then he sees you. scanning the crowd, eyes searching.

and when you spot him— you light up.

like he’s supposed to be here. like he’s not just some guy who stumbled in, unsure if he even belongs in moments like these.

you rush over, practically colliding into him, and he barely has time to react before you’re grabbing the flowers, pressing your face into them, laughing breathlessly.

“you came.”

his throat works. he clears it, rubbing the back of his neck.

“’course i did,” he mutters.

you smile.

…

he knew this was a bad idea.

he knew from the moment he walked into the restaurant, stiff in his chair, palm sweating against the napkin in his lap.

knew when you slid into the seat across from him, looking bright and effortless and so at ease, still glowing from your big presentation, still beaming about the congress.

knew when he looked down at the menu and realized he didn’t recognize half the words on it.

simon’s spent years in places like this— quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of good food and low conversation. but he’s always been alone. always sat in a corner with his back to the wall, a meal in front of him and no one expecting him to talk.

but now— now there’s you.

and you’re talking, telling him about the congress, about the people you met, the questions they asked. you sound so fucking excited, like the whole world is opening up in front of you, and simon—

simon just nods.

he doesn’t know what to say. doesn’t know how to keep up.

he’s never been smart like you. never been the type to sit in lecture halls, to write papers, to stand in front of a room full of academics and present something that matters.

he barely finished school. left home at sixteen, signed his life away at eighteen, spent more years holding a gun than a pen.

he doesn’t belong in places like this. doesn’t belong next to you.

you’re all bright ideas and ambition, the kind of person who builds things, who makes the world better.

simon’s just good at breaking it.

he shifts in his seat, hyper-aware of how he looks— broad shoulders hunched awkwardly, big hands clumsy against the silverware, a goddamn mutt at a dinner table.

he wonders if you notice. if you see it. if you realize you could do better.

your food arrives. you thank the waiter, pick up your fork—

and before you can even take a bite, it slips out.

“i-”

you pause, fork halfway to your mouth.

simon grips his napkin under the table, flexes his fingers, heart thudding heavy in his ribs.

he shouldn’t ask. should just let this be a nice dinner, let you go home, let you move on.

but—

“would you…” he swallows, throat dry, stomach tight.

he shouldn’t ask.

“would you want to go on a date with me?”

the words hit the table like lead.

silence.

he doesn’t breathe. doesn’t move. because fuck, he actually said it.

and now there’s nothing but the space between you, the quiet hum of conversation around you, the faint clink of cutlery against plates—

and you. staring at him.

he braces for rejection. tells himself it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—

“yeah,” you say, voice light with something he can’t name. “i would.”

his stomach drops.

relief. disbelief. something dangerously close to hope.

he exhales, tension bleeding from his shoulders. nods, just once, like he’s acknowledging an order. like his hands aren’t trembling under the table.

“okay,” he mutters.

then, quieter—

“good.”

[axetivev]

— Summary: Y/N, Dick and Conner were best friends. Unlike them, Y/N was a civilian who just often helped both heros. But sometimes, he went curious about their patrol, and he asked them about it. Which went rather ugly at best.

— Warnings: Angst Hurt/Comfort, Dick, Conner, and Reader are best friends, you can see them as lovers if you want, civilian!reader, male!reader.

— Words: 1.4k.

— A/N: Okay! For the Anon. I don't really know if you want this to be a ship, or platonic. So I'll make it platonic but it's possible to be seen as poly if you want, I'll be on a hiatus for a while... I'll be on hiatus in March. Probably back in the end (30-31) I'll be back. But hey! Regardless, I hope everyone has a nice day and enjoyed this fic!!

— Pairing: Dick Grayson & Male!Reader & Conner Kent

That very day where Y/N met both of his friends, Dick Grayson and Conner Kent. Everything changed significantly about his life.

How he met them was odd, perhaps. Coming to Metropolis City for meeting a friend, Y/N find the Kryptonian bloody after a battle Y/N’s memory itself felt blurry. What he could recall was seeing Superboy being thrown roughly to one of the building on Metropolis after winning the battle. Perfectly next to Y/N who watched everything with widened eyes.

Feeling empathy—he did whatever he could to helped the hero, even after Superboy himself said there’s no need for. But Y/N insisted, cleaning every blood and wound like a doctor treating a patient, while the Kryptonian just watched every move, every wound.

“And… final wound.” Y/N muttered under his breath as he finished wrapping an injury around the Kryptonian’s arm.

As for Superboy, he took a look over the medical tape—covering the wounds which surprised him. Specially for some civilian who was dumbfounded seeing him just fighting. The Kryptonian nodded to himself before standing up.

“Thank you… erm…” Superboy gave Y/N a hand, which he took. “It’s… nothing. It’s M/N.” Y/N looked down to their hands while they shook hands.

“Ah, yeah. M/N, thank you.” Both male’s hand just, shook. Neither of them stop while they make eye contact. It’s awkward at most. “Are you a civilian from here?” Superboy added. “N–No. I’m from Blüdhaven. I’m just visiting a friend.” Y/N immediately spoke as their hands parted.

Superboy looked up, placing a finger to his chin as if he was thinking of something—a light bulb lit up, remembering the city name. He thanked Y/N again, before with a single blink, somehow the Kryptonian was gone. Y/N was looked around, he didn’t expect an half Kryptonian to just be gone with a single blink. Yet—he didn’t ask further, he just walked to his destination.

“Shit no way, you actually saves a superhero!?” One of Y/N’s friends spit his water with jaw dropped, while some where gasping silence.

“I mean, yeah. Why?” Y/N shrugged as one of his buddies slapped the back of his neck. Shaking his head while interject with a smirk. “Oh boy, you really helped an Kryptonian? No offense man but really!” His friend drunkly laughed while tapping his glass of alcohol to Y/N’s water.

How Y/N met Dick is like those stories in fanfictions he often read.

Living in Blüdhaven, the name “Nighwing” was known to be a hero. How Y/N actually met him? It was just a casually evening and a fight happened. He stayed inside of his apartment, knowing he cannot do much. He just chilled in his living room, do absolutely anything he could to kill time—when he heard his window was opened, Y/N nearly froze. Going to the kitchen to get a knife, he prepared himself for whatever what’s to come—only to find Blüdhaven’s hero, getting into your apartment from Y/N’s very window.

“HOLY—” Nighwing jolted, nearly falling. Just in time where Y/N helped him, preventing the Vigilante from falling.

After quick explanation, Nightwing said he mistaken Y/N’s apartment was his. A light chuckle escaped his lips, Y/N then eventually welcomed the Vigilante, until he saw a wound on Nightwing’s shoulder. Y/n raised an eyebrow.

“Are you alright there, sir—Night...Nightwing?” The Vigilante slightly jolted and looked at this left shoulder, his suit—somehow gets perfectly sliced, of course Nighwing brushed this off.

But Y/N isn’t having it.

Going to the bathroom to get his first aid kit. Y/N gently treated the wound, giving it alcohol—brushing and cleaning any dirt before giving it a bandage.

“You… seriously—you don’t have to.” Nightwing shook his head while smiling with amusement, turned his head to look at the bandage. He nodded. “Honestly, thank you a lot…”

Y/N just smiled, as Nightwing gave him a hand for a handshake—a gratitude. Which he accepted, and with that, Nightwing was off. Giving Y/N a wave.

And after that, Y/N with both males actually had a good relationship. Him and Conner would occasionally met, with the Kryptonian and Y/N talking about life, him and Dick often talked together on top of Y/N’s apartment complex—knowing both identities of both of his close friends. It was sure an unexpected—more to Y/N knowing both best friends of his were best friends themselves.

After patrol, He’ll met them on top of his apartment’s building. Y/n, Dick, and Conner would chat about life, talking over treats and drinks.

But sometimes, you just wanna know about their lives being a hero, saving many civilians—Y/N and many others might be curious. Especially Y/N would helped them with injuries, Y/N never asked—he kept every question to himself. But curiosity will eventually catch him.

One night, Y/N came with some treats like his usual. But he found Dick and Conner all clean without wounds he didn’t asked—he just placed the treats. Both male thanked him, Y/N smiled.

“Curious…” Y/N started. “How’s life being a hero? What happened in your guys’ patrol?” Dick paused biting his sandwich, Conner just froze. They both exchange glances. As If they were communicating on their minds as they don’t want Y/N wanting to know their life.

“It’s… nah! Nothing, it’s a hero thing y’know? You’d probably won’t get it as much.” Dick swallowed a lump after finishing his words, “Yeah. I mean, it’s not that easy to explain it to someone like you.” Conner let out an almost—awkward chuckle. Y/N? He just stood there hands on his sides—into fist. Looking at both heros. He smiled again.

“Is that so?” His voice was barely a whisper. Both heroes gave Y/N a nod. Processing to continue. Y/N was just beside them. Silent from the start and end, after Dick and Conner finished, they said their goodbyes then gone.

Y/N felt something—his heart twitched with something. He doesn’t knew, but the fact both of his friends—somehow he able to consider beat friends said he wouldn’t understand, hurt. It hurts in a way he cannot explain, Y/N knew he’s a strong man with emotions. But this? It felt… shattering.

After that, Y/N came to his apartment. Crying in silence—putting his phone in silent mode the whole day. As Dick’s words and Conner’s response stuck to his mind. “You’d probably won’t get it as much.”, “it’s not that easy to explain it to someone like you.” He kept thinking to himself; is this friendship just a lie? Or is it something else…?

Those words echoed like music—Y/N felt like those words and some music notes circled him each time he opened his phone to find neither Dick nor Conner texted him. But Y/N ignored all of them. They even called you in some point, making you answer them with a simple yet somehow make people asked more; “I’m fine.”

Dick and Conner would exchange glances with Y/N’s answer. There’s not elaboration. They hang out less, and both heroes missed that laugher and smile of their best friend. What should they do? They expect where their answer about the day Y/N finally asked about their patrol after what felt like an eternity.

And they took matters to their own hands.

Since Y/N barely came out from his apartment, or even if he did. He'll just came out quick and never to be seen again. Dick and Conner didn’t think coming to his house could put them to trouble. Their solution? Give Y/N gifts infront of his apartment door. Simple gifts but meant deep, even a small note they’ll left, usually filled with their apologies or just a small vent about patrol.

Weeks of neglected gifts. Eventually, the spot where the group would meet up for a hang out, Superboy came first to find a plate of treats, and a small cake. Superboy called Nightwing. Y/N isn’t out yet—but from this, they expect at least, there’s a small progress of change.

Soon—they’ll left small voice notes about patrol, not much in detail. But it was short and clear of their night, but if made Y/N felt better.

At night, Nightwing came to their usual spot. He still expect Y/N isn’t there. But there he was, with Conner with that smile felt so familiar it warmth Nightwing—as he goes down to met with them.

Y/N at first somewhat distant. Both heroes. Dick and Conner looked at each other, with the slow breath. They hugged Y/N—their bestfriend to a tight hug, nearly suffocating him. But Y/N chuckled as he tried to hugged his friends back.

[jadegrey711]

Please I love your Wally smut

What about like giving Wally head for the first time as he watched you already before you died

And either a first time blow job or Wally fingering you for the first time (ifykyk) whatever you feel like writing moreee

Thank you for the compliment Dear Anon. Enjoy. You can check you my other Wally Clark x Reader fics on my masterlist on @jadegreywriting

As always 18+ ONLY

*Not my GIF*

Wally had watched you for the longest time. He'd love watching your meets as you would dive gracefully into the pool. As an athlete himself he was in awe of how fast you were once you hit the water. He didn't know if the Olympics were your dream but he knew you could make it if you wanted too. But that wasn't in the cards for you, instead it was a drunk driver, who pulled out of the school too fast and didn't see you as you were walking out to your car after a game.

You couldn't understand what was happening as you watched the ambulance pull away from the school, kids huddled together and crying.

Wally watched as you tried to get anyones attention. But no one could hear or see you. He was nervous as he first approached you, putting his hands up like you were a wild animal and he was trying to keep you calm.

At first you were relieved someone was talking to you, but then he broke the news. You had been hit and you were already dead when the ambulance pulled away from the school.

You were in denial for a long while, and Wally watched as you would just sit on the curb for hours, watching as everyone pulled away from the parking lot. Watching as the flowers that were laid down on your school parking spot, slowly rotted and blew away.

Wally would spend those days, sitting right next to you, and he waited. Waited until you were ready to talk, and when you finally did, you felt the damn break loose. You told Wally everything you were feeling, how sad you were, how angry you were at how unfair this all was. You told him about your life that he didn't get to see outside of school. How much you loved to read, how going to the lake every summer felt like a recharge for the rest of the year, when you first knew you loved swimming.

And in kind Wally told you about his life, what kind of music he listened to, how he wanted to travel when he got out of highschool and that he wasn't a big reader when he was alive; which made you chuckle.

After that day, you and Wally felt inseparable, being with him felt like the sun. Warm and comforting, he always made you laugh and you did the same to him; surprising him with how funny you were, he didn't know that about you.

You still like going to Group; Mr. Martin was a bit creepy and you always had issues with authority figures. But Wally liked coming to the group so you sat there and participated here and there. You never shared anything personal with the group, well anything that was real. You saved that for your time with Wally.

Which often felt like this one, where you would go into the pool and do laps, or float on the surface of the water, while Wally watched on the edge of the pool. He loved watching you do flip turns, amazed at how fast you were, how fast you could cut through the water.

You came up from under the water and smiled at Wally, who was floating in the pool next to you, watching as you would flip and do handstands in the shallow end of the water. When you came up again, you saw Wally had made his way over to the steps of the pool, he sat there and watched you. His smile was contagious as he watched you.

"What are you looking at, Clark?" You asked, flicking water towards him.

"I think it's some kind of pool nymph." He teased.

"A pool nymph?" You chuckled.

"Yeah, and she's mesmerizing."

"Mesmerizing huh?" You asked, as you swam closer to him.

"Oh yeah. Just one of the many adjectives I'd use to describe her."

"Oh? And what are these other adjectives that you'd use? I know you're not a big reader, so this will be fun to see how many you actually know."

"Hey! I think my vocabulary has increased immensely since I met you."

"Thank goodness for that! I don't think I could handle you saying "Rad" for the rest of eternity."

"As if, "Cool beans" is any better!" He huffed before flicking his fingers in the water, splashing you in the face. 

"Hey!" You scowled, grabbing his bare thighs and bringing your face close to his, but stopped inches in front of his face.

Wally tilted his head, his brown eyes holding yours. "Hey what?" He smiled. His eyes moved to your lips.

"I-" You stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat as you remembered where your hands were. “I don’t actually remember what I was going to say.” You chuckled, before leaning in and gave Wally a quick kiss on the lips, intending to give him a quick kiss and then swim away. But Wally had other ideas on the matter, before you could turn your body away he grabbed your hips and placed you so you were sitting on his lap. His large hands wrapped themselves around your waist bringing you back in for another kiss. 

“I wasn’t done telling you about the beautiful pool nymph I saw.” He smiled against your lips.

This wasn’t the first time you and Wally kissed, not by a long shot, there were so many times where the two of you would sneak off when Wally was supposed to be in Group, kissing in the locker room. Sometimes you two would get really hot and heavy, but before anything could happen there was always something that had you two breaking apart. Whether it was Charley or Rhonda catching you two in the heat of the moment or someone else barging in, sometimes it was really hard to get a moment alone with your hot boyfriend in your own afterlife. 

But, you had a feeling that this time would be different. 

You let out a small little moan as you felt Wally’s tongue dance with yours. His large hands roaming down to your backside and giving you a little squeeze. You pulled away from the kiss, earning a groan from Wally. “You didn’t finish describing this pool nymph to me.” You grinned. 

“Well I told you that she was mesmerizing and beautiful. I would dare say graceful as well.” 

“Graceful huh?” You smiled leaning in to brush a kiss to the edge of Wally’s soft lips, before pressing another one to his jawline earning a low moan from him. You made sure to pocket that reaction for that spot in particular for later. 

“Y-Yeah graceful.”

“What else Wally?” You teased, sucking on that spot at his jawline, before moving down to his neck, placing a soft kiss to his carotid, before sucking on the spot where his pulse point would be. You chuckled as you heard Wally stutter, losing his words and losing them fast as you sucked and kissed your way down his neck. 

“Breathtaking.” He moaned out.

As you kissed Wally, making sure to pay attention to the other side of his neck like you did the first, you could feel him grow hard underneath you. “What else Wally?”

“Baby. Please.” 

“Please what Wally?”

“Stop torturing me.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just listening to all the ways that you’re describing this beautiful pool nymph.” you mumbled against his skin, taking your tongue and dipping it into his collarbone, before taking that golden chain necklace into your mouth and sucking on the pendant there. 

You looked up at Wally’s face and smiled. He looked so tense, his hands were gripping noticeably harder on your ass as he looked down at you. 

“Unless you want me to stop?” You asked, placing a quick kiss to the center of his chest. “Do you want me to stop Wally?” You asked and placed another kiss on his chest. 

“No.” He ground out. 

You gave him a wolfish smile. “I didn’t think so.” You purred, leaning your head back down so you can trace your tongue around his nipples. Wally leaned back, letting out a low groan. 

“You’re so sweet to me Wally.” You said softly against his skin as you traced your tongue down his stomach, and dipped in his belly button, earning another deep moan from Wally. You looked back up to him, your body now on the step just below him, your hands poised on top of the waistband of his boxers. “Can I be sweet to you?” You asked him innocently. 

Wally’s eyes went wide. “Baby.” He said his voice came out breathy before he let out a small cough to clear his throat. “Baby, are you sure?” He asked his hand coming out to brush a small piece of hair out of your face. 

“Yes Wally. I want to do this for you.” 

Wally let out a breath that seemed to be a mix of desperation and relief. His hands were reaching for the waistband of his boxers and you took that as your sign that he wanted this as bad as you did. You helped him pull his boxers off and let them float off in the pool, before leaning back down to Wally. Running your tongue down the soft “V” on each side of his hips, earning a low whimper from Wally. 

You looked up at Wally, as you ran your hands up and down his thighs, while taking in how hard he was for you and you smiled up at him. “All this for me?” you teased. 

“Yeah baby.” He said breathily. “Only for you.” 

You were in control in this situation but you grew wet at Wally’s words, surprising yourself at how just those simple words of admiration had you growing slick in between your legs. “Only for me huh?” You said reaching for him, giving his cock a slow pump with your hand, earning a stuttering lift of Wally’s hips for you. 

You smirked, biting your lip. “So sensitive.” Leaning down to run your tongue around the head of his cock. Wally let out a low moan, as you took him deeper into your mouth letting your tongue trace around the head of his cock, and relaxing as he slid deeper for a moment before having your hand join the efforts of your mouth. 

“I love it when you make those little moans, Wally.” You whispered, before continuing to pump his cock with your hand as you took him back into your mouth. 

You didn’t have a lot of experience doing this, but you were an avid reader and Wally seemed to love it when your tongue did this particular motion. You smiled to yourself as you felt Wally’s hands find their way into your wet hair, gathering the wet strands in a messy clump and fisting it in his hand. You felt Wally’s hips jerk every now and again as he fought the urge to pump his hips and thrust his cock deeper into your hot little mouth. 

You hummed in satisfaction against his cock, and that seemed to have Wally taking a ragged breath. 

“Baby.” He breathed. “I’m really trying here.” 

You hummed again, the vibrations seeming to send Wally closer to the edge. You popped your mouth off of his cock and looked up at him, taking in the tensed way he pulled his eyebrows together and how he bit down on his bottom lip, making it a darker pink. 

“Trying to do what?” You asked innocently, as you rested your head against his strong thigh, your hand still pumping his cock. 

“Trying to not, fuck your mouth.” He breathed out. “I know you haven’t really done this before and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You hummed again, he really was the sweetest boy you’d ever met. You’d never thought you actually like sucking dick, but with Wally, as he whined and moaned above you, letting you bring him closer and closer to orgasm. You didn’t think you could actually get enough of this, of him being this vulnerable for you, you felt drunk off of the way his puppy eyes looked down at you, awestruck. 

“Wally.” You said breathily. “I have your cock in my mouth and I am so fucking wet for you right now. And if I’m uncomfortable, I’ll just give you a little nip.” You chuckled and leaned back down and licked up the shaft of his cock before taking his head back into your mouth. 

His hands, delved deeper into your hair, and his hold felt a little tighter, as he bucked his hips to your mouth still holding back, but not as much as he was before. 

“Oh baby.” He moaned. “God you look so pretty like this. Your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock. I wish I could take a picture of you right now.” 

You moaned, at his words, feeling yourself grow wetter between your legs, and started to pump him faster, your mouth and hand working in time together to bring Wally closer to release. 

“God damn it, baby.” Wally groaned, his hips increasing their speed, just enough that you started to feel water in your eyes, but you didn’t want to stop not when Wally was so close. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m not going to last much longer if you keep that up.” 

That was your cue, you squeezed Wally’s cock harder with your hand before sucking him down again and felt him come inside your mouth. You pulled away, unable to fully swallow Wally’s release, and continued to pump him through his orgasm. You watched his hips shake as he finished coming, Wally’s moans were audible enough for anyone who was walking past the double doors of the indoor pool could definitely hear him. 

You dropped your hand away from him and looked up at the totally ruined expression on Wally’s face. His hair that was usually so well kept, was sticking up in places he ran his hands through and some of it still stuck to his forehead from when he was swimming with you. 

“Such a good and sweet boy.” You smiled, pulling yourself up by his thighs and giving him a kiss. Wally seemed to preen at the compliment and deepened the kiss; tasting himself on your lips, earning a low satisfied moan from the both of you. 

[artstennisracket]

I was listening to "Be Mean" by DNCE and it immediately made me think of Art being submissive and needy having a degradation kink.

Please write Artrick Stanford Era where Patrick comes to visit Art from tour! Patrick is relentlessly teasing Art and it's driving Art crazy but Art is so pathetic and turned on by it that he begs Patrick to be mean to him and fuck his brains out.

this song is actually so good thank you for introducing it to my lifeeeeee. i took a few liberties but I hope you love it anon :)

bonus points if you saw my aave post and can figure out where I wanted to write Art be fucking

cw: nsfw(18+), dom/sub, bdsm overtones, spitting, slapping, all the things

Patrick had visited Art a handful of times during his time at Stanford. Not as much as Art would have liked (considering Patrick split his time between Art and Tashi every visit). The last time Patrick visited he was telling Art his latest sexescapde with Tashi.

“yeah man she wanted me to tie her up and everything. so fucking hot, didn’t know she’d be into bdsm,” Patrick grins, the memory replaying in his head.

Art is always flustered when Patrick talks about sex. Not because Art is a virgin or anything, quite the opposite actually. Maybe it’s because he’s imagining Tashi and Patrick doing those things in his head.

The thought of Patrick tying Tashi up and doing whatever he wanted to her? More realistically, whatever she instructed he could do to her? That was really fucking hot, Art could feel his lower region peak interest. He started thinking about if Patrick could tie him up and actually do whatever he wanted to Art…

Art clears his throat coming back to reality. Patrick is staring at him amused, like he can read Art’s thoughts. “wait what’s bdsm?” Art asks.

“it’s like— you know the rihanna song? S&M? ‘chains and whips excite me’?”

Art nods, he’d heard that song the radio a few times and may have downloaded it on his mp3 player. “yeah i’ve heard it before, so what’s the bd part then?”

“that part means bondage and dominance? bondage and discipline? im not a 100% sure. you seem very curious maybe you should look into it,” Patrick smirks.

Art’s cheeks are red and he opens his mouth to say something but decides not to. Patrick leans in closer so he can whisper in Art’s ear, “I dunno you seem pretty easy to dominate, maybe you’d be into it.”

So Art had been thinking about it ever since. He did look into it and there are parts he’d think he’d be into. Being dominated wasn’t something he got to experience often with girls and Patrick was the only guy he’s ever slept with.

Being tied up to be used at someone’s else’s disposal? Yeah that made his cock very hard. But he’s only slept with Patrick once and they never talked about it again, he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up when Patrick comes to visit him again today.

Later that day once Patrick arrives, they headed to the dining hall to grab some food. They sit at the bar type area with high top chairs. Patrick pulls Art’s chair closer to his right before Art sits down.

“so are you gonna tell me what’s up or are you gonna keep looking at me like that?” Patrick asks turning his head to the side to look directly at Art.

Art furrows his eye brows looking up from his plate of food, “what are you talking about?”

“since I got here you’ve been like on edge, what’s up?” Patrick crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Art rolls his eyes trying his best to not think about Patrick dominating him in the bedroom because it’s all he’s been thinking about all day. But Patrick has always been able to read him, so he has to put on his best acting performance.

He scoffs, “nothing is wrong man, I’m just happy you’re here that’s all.” Art is searching Patrick’s face to see if he believes him.

Patrick studies Art face for a second, his eyes scan across the blond’s face. He notices the super faint pink tint on Art’s cheeks and the way Art is avoiding making eye contact. He also notices the few blond curls poking out of his snapback, which Patrick didn’t realize this before but Art in a snapback is definitely doing it for him.

Suddenly he throws one arm around Art’s neck pulling him to be face to face with Patrick, “you fucking slut, honestly im proud of you. you should be opening up your horizons your in college, id be doing the same thing if I was you.”

Art is so confused right now, mainly by how his cock stirred when Patrick called him a slut. “im not doing anything, what’re you talking about?”

“you slept with someone right? did all your bdsm fantasies? that’s great why didn’t you tell me?” Patrick smiles.

Art is about to deny it but he knows that if he does Patrick might figure out what he’s actually thinking. He nods, “no yeah you’re right. I was nervous to tell you about it.”

Patrick blinks for a second. He realizes that he got it wrong, Art is lying. He’s not sure why though but he’s going to play along until he finds out. He retracts his arm and sits back down in his stool fully. “so what’d you guys do then?”

Fuck Art should’ve been coming up with a story in his head as soon as he said it, now Patrick is going to ask questions he doesn’t know the answer to because they never happened.

“um y-yeah she just like tied me up and—“

Art gets cut off by Patrick saying, “i knew you’d be the one getting tied up, you’re just so submissive man.”

Art scoffs, “okay well why are we even talking about this here in public let’s just go back to my room and watch a movie or something.”

Patrick continues asking question when they get back to Art’s room. “what was her name?” “what did she look like?” “more tits or more ass?” “how’d you meet her?” Art couldn’t fucking keep up, he couldn’t keep his story straight and that when Patrick knew he got him.

“you fucking liar.” Patrick says backing Art against a wall.

“what? im not lying about anything. she was real and she was here and—“

Art is cut off by Patrick again, “bullshit you know what I think?” He asks standing very close to Art their noses almost touching.

“i’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Art says trying to keep his breathing and his cock under control. He’s not doing a great job at either.

Patrick smirks leaning in to whisper right by Art’s ear, “i think you want me to fuck you…again.” He moves his hand down to groping Art’s erection. His grasp is firm when he says, “and i think this time you don’t want me to hold back.”

Art’s eyes slipped closed and he bit his lip trying to stifle the moan on the top of his tongue. He doesn’t do a good job at that either.

“is that what you want?” Patrick asks as he slips his hand inside Art’s shorts and boxers. He cups Art’s tip where all the pre-cum had built up, using it to make his hand glide easily up and down Art’s shaft. “fuck, you’re so wet for me already. but I wanna hear you say it. is that what you want?”

Art nods, “ah fuck,” but the pleasure of Patrick stroking him is on the forefront of his mind. He lets his forehead rest on Patrick’s shoulder.

“can you use your words for me baby? wanna hear you say it. tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Art’s eyes are rolling is the back of head as he whines against Patrick’s shoulder. He has a feeling that not answering the question may result in consequences or even worse, Patrick might stop touching him. He nods before opening his mouth to say, “i— i want you to fuck me, don’t want you hold back, want you to be mean to me.”

Patrick smirks stilling his movements, “guess you’re not as dumb of a slut as I thought. didn’t think you were gonna answer me. and I don’t think you’re gonna need it but we should have a safe word anyway just in case.”

Art had read about this when he was doing his bdsm research, “um I think, maybe pineapple?”

Patrick lets out a laugh, “okay,” he takes his hand out of Art’s shorts before going to his bag. He had packed a few things he wanted to try with Tashi but he’s never been one to waste an opportunity. “I want you to take off all your clothes, lie down on your bed, and I’m gonna use these,” he pulls out two pairs of black fuzzy handcuffs.

Art strips so fast he might’ve gotten whiplash. It was crazy that his dreams were coming true. He’s wanted this for some time now and he was itching with anticipation.

Art lays down on his bed. He’s laying on some pillows so his back is slightly elevated. He’s so hard all he wants to do is touch himself—

“no touching,” Patrick tsks washing over to the bed. He takes each of Art’s wrists, handcuffing one to each side of the headboard.

Art was a vision. He was already so hard, his tip was leaking precum against his tummy. His face was flushed and his eyes were a little glossed over, “wow you look, really fucking pretty like this. all laid out for me. desperate, just waiting for me to use you however I please.” Patrick said as he traced slowly down Art’s torso with his finger.

He moved his gaze back up to Art’s nipples. He pinched one and took the other into his mouth.

“ah—“ Art gasps. No one’s ever touched him there, he didn’t think it’d feel that good.

Patrick does a small little lick to each nipple before kissing his way down Art’s torso. He purposefully skips over Art’s cock.

Patrick takes a step back to pull his shirt and his jeans off, “hm should I suck you off baby?” He questions as he steps out of his boxers and stroked himself a few times.

Art nods. Patrick tsks as he pinches Art’s nipple, “what did I say about using your words?”

“oh fuck oh fuck okay okay i- i- want you to suck me off, please please” Art whines, his body keening towards where Patrick is pinching him.

Patrick lets go, satisfied with Art’s answer, “good boy, but if you don’t answer me when I speak to you again, i won’t be so nice.”

He lays down on his stomach in between Art’s legs. He acts as if he’s going to lick up the side of Art’s shaft but inside bring his tongue to lick a fat stripe up Art’s tightness.

This takes Art by surprise and he moans out, “jesus fuck, Patrick.”

He teases the outside with his tongue before pushing inside. Art is taken aback by how good it feel, attempting to fuck himself back against Patrick’s tongue.

Patrick allows it. He needs Art to loosen up a bit before he can add any fingers. Patrick sits up holding two fingers in front of Art’s mouth, “suck, and this is all the lube you’re getting so make it good.”

Art opens his mouth sucking on Patrick’s fingers like there’s no tomorrow. Licking and sucking, sucking and licking, until he feels like he’s covered Patrick’s fingers in a good amount of spit.

Patrick pulls his fingers out and presses one finger inside Art’s hole. He grabs Art’s curls to pull him in for a kiss, it’s a mess of teeth and tongue. Patrick has now worked Art up to three fingers before he pulls his fingers out.

He wipes his hand on the bed, “now I’m gonna fuck your mouth for a little bit okay? remember there’s no lube so you better make my cock nice and wet so i can fuck you properly okay?”

Art nods biting his lip. He’s never had his mouth fucked, sure he’s sucked Patrick’s dick before but this would be different. He just doesn’t want to die of suffocation, Patrick’s dick is pretty big.

But he nods nonetheless, “oh— okay yeah i will, make it wet.”

“and hey you can just pinch me if you need me to stop at anytime.”

Art nods.

Patrick stands on the bed, Art’s chest is between his legs. He kneels down, moving one leg to be next to Art’s head. He grabs Art’s hair once again as he starts feeding his dick inside Art’s mouth slowly. Inch by inch. Once he hits the back of Art’s throat he lets out a low groan, “fuck baby, you were made to take my cock fuck.

He steadied himself before he starts fucking into Art’s throat, “taking me so fucking well, you’d let me use any of your holes to get off huh? fucking cockslut.”

The gurgling and choking sounds coming from Art are really turning Patrick on. He can hear all the spit building up in Art’s mouth so he pulls out. His dick is nice and wet, “did such a good job baby,” Patrick smiles, “now I can fuck you nice and good.”

Patrick stands up on the bed to move back to his original spot between Art’s legs. This time he lines himself up with Art’s hole before he pushes in.

Now it’s Art’s turn to let out a low groan as Patrick bottoms out, “ah oh fuck—“

“you are so fucking tight jesus, gripping the fuck out of my cock,” Patrick grunts as he grabs Art’s hips and starts picking up the pace.

“this is what you wanted right baby? wanted me to fuck you? and what else?”

Art whines, “yes Patrick fuck, wanted you to fuck me.”

Patrick grabs Art’s face forcing them to make eye contact, “and what the fuck else did you ask me to do you huh? or are you just such a dumb fucking cockslut you can’t remember. as soon as you get some dick in you you can’t think straight anymore?”

Art is so fucking hard, he wants to cum so fucking bad. And Patrick is saying all the right things it’s hard to focus. Fuck. What did he say? Why can’t he remember? Oh. He remembers, “be mean to me,” he chokes out between Patrick’s bruising thrusts.

“there you go, maybe not a dumb slut, but you’re definitely still a slut for my cock,” He smirks, “open your fucking mouth.” Art opens his mouth with no questions asked and Patrick spits in it.

Now alot of people would find that disgusting and Patrick was going out on a limb he had no idea if Art would like it. But judging by Art reacted, Patrick thinks his guess was right.

Art feels very disrespected and degraded and he’s never been more turned on his life. Maybe that’s why the next words that come out of his mouth are, “hit me, fuck, slap me, need it.”

Patrick slows down his thrusts for a second, unsure if he should, but he doesn’t want to ask and ruin what they have going on right now so he does it.

It’s light and short and not hard enough. “harder Patrick please,” Art begs, tears threatening to escape from his eyes.

Patrick didn’t have to be told twice, so he slaps Art again. Keeping his hand firm and following through on his swing. Fuck. Art’s going to cum. He hasn’t even touched himself but between Patrick fucking him, slapping him, and overall degrading him he can’t help it.

“‘m gonna cum, Patrick please, gonna cum, can I cum please?” He finishes all over his tummy.

Patrick already knew Art was close so he wasn’t holding back anymore and he let go, “yes fuck baby, you can cum. gonna cum inside you fuck, gonna fill you up.”

Patrick cleans them both up and uncuffs both of Art’s wrists.

“how do your wrists feel? or better yet how does your face feel?,” Patrick smirks and he’s pretty proud of himself. Making someone cum untouched was always on his bucket list.

Art is half asleep on his bed when he mumbles out, “‘m good, feel good.”

Patrick smiles before he takes Art’s blanket and uses it to tuck Art in. He feels pretty proud of himself for putting Art to sleep as well. He gets dressed to head out and get them some food. He already knows Art will be hungry when he wakes up.

[gilsart]

this is only on anon because tumblr still won’t let me submit asks from @dahlia-scribbles

i just wanted to tell you i love your art and i LOVE how you draw roderich and gilbert; your one of my faves so i always get excited when a piece of yours pops up on my dash, even if it’s from a fandom i’m not in 💜

This is so important to me, thank you so much,, I love drawing both of them, especially Roderich, there will absolutely be more in the future.

I have a sketch I planned on posting, I’ll just use your ask to do so c: historical hetalia again!

[blissfullylankartz]

the oddworld fandom don’t really want to interact with you because you don’t care about oddworld. compared to other fandoms we’re tiny and the games don’t get enough love anyway so it feels borderline disrespectful. if it’s not your thing why are you even making ocs for it?

I literally made a post saying not to pull this shit, I said I would be taking anon asks as long as people were kind. Yet once again I'm being met with being pushed out of a community I was wanting to get to know about. Being told I don't care when I'm literally still new and learning things. So people apparently can only partake in a community if they only know every little detail about it?

Look if you have an issue with me I'd rather you not be hiding behind anon, it feels incredibly uncomfortable and disrespectful that you would cross a boundary I set in place. The anon asks was to allow people to send asks comfortably, but you keep ruining it for everyone with me needing to turn them off because you don't have the balls to come out and say stuff without hiding behind anon. You make me believe the community is unkind and unwelcoming, when I don't want to believe that because some of the people I have interacted with have been wonderful.

You don't get to dictate what I take interest in and how I enjoy those things. So just leave me alone or at least stop hiding behind anon, it isn't fair on anyone else that you keep doing this. I won't be switching anon off because I put it on to allow people to be comfortable. I didn't put it on to allow you to feel comfortable being unwelcoming, if your going to stand up for what you love then stop hiding. Or are you afraid that if people knew who was doing it that they wouldn't like you as much anymore, since it's a small community alot of people seem to know each other. I doubt it would be fun to find out that someone was going out of Thier way to shun people from a community they apparently care about.

If you love something wouldn't you rather want to share it and talk about it, not being hateful and pushing people away from it.

I'm tired of this, this was a shitty thing to just wake up to.

Edit: anon has apologised for their behaviour however decided not to post a response to that because I don't want to give them more attention than necessary. This will be the last thing I'll be adding to this situation. I've blocked them from being able to send anon asks anymore, this is because they broke a couple of boundaries and have done things that I'm really not comfortable with. Also just didn't enjoy the vibes being brought to the table. Just hope a lesson has been learnt here.

Thank you for all the kindness that everyone has shown to me, I was a little surprised by the amount of responses, but I'm glad the community seems to take these things seriously. Don't worry I'm not going anywhere and my asks are still open and yous are free to send asks as anons. Just be kind and respectful<3 eventually I may make a post with all the ocs on it that are available for asks once I've brushed up more on lore. I look forward to doing more with yous <3

[transfemme-shelterdog]

Hey! It's so cool that you're trying to help trans men and mascs, standing up for us when there are shitty opinions and exclusionists. but one of the last person you responded to, you said that transandrophobia is a misogyny that trans men experience, and that is actually wrong. I wanted to tell you, so that next time someone asks for a definition, it'll be the right one here are some quotes from the person who coined the term.

"In it's most simple definition. Transandrophobia is the way that the fear of men impacts the material reality and mental/physical health of transgender men." "Transandrophobia, is the way that the fear of masculinity has led to people assuming that butches across the gender spectrum are inherently violent and hyper-sexual."

"Transandrophobia, is the way that the fear of men and/or masculinity results in the forced feminization of transgender men in queer spaces, with the insistence that those who refuse to feminize themselves to make others more comfortable should not be allowed entrance to certain queer spaces." "Transandrophobia, is not when trans men face misogyny – that is just a trans man facing misogyny (which all trans men face, because misogyny and sexism effects everyone, not just women). However, transandrophobiaiswhen someone says that trans men don’t face misogyny because they are men, make claims that trans men benefit from misogyny since they are men, or insist that trans men’s experiences with misogyny aren’t as valid or as bad as when a woman or non-male person faces misogyny." https://www.tumblr.com/st-dionysus/773970910474551296/hey-so-ive-heard-youre-the-one-whos-coined?source=share Here is an ask where st links everythinghttps://www.tumblr.com/st-dionysus/755668731267629056/thank-you-there-is-100-room-for-multiple-terms?source=share here is the specific post that I am quoting now! anyway. thanks for being awesome. I though this might help Tranandrophobia is about the demonization of a type of queer masculinity, specifically transmasculinity, and not so much about the misogyny trans men also experience, Though they are connected, like in the denial of trans men's experiences with misogyny.

I appreciate the correction Anon. Always love being educated so I can be a better ally for my trans brothers/masculine siblings.

I've heard the way I described it as the definition by a few people, so I went with that. I was wrong, and won't make that mistake again. Appreciate it <3

[thezombieprostitute]

"I wanna do this with you."

But make it about a couple talking about murder.

Thank you for your patience, Anon! It took me way too long to figure out the right couple for this.

Summary: Someone tries to use you to get leverage over Lloyd.

Warnings: Kidnapping, Pregnancy, Violence. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Series Masterlist

Lloyd had warned you when you first met that he had enemies. The kind of enemies that might throw a bag over your head and kidnap you. He'd praised you for not being the type to cry and panic. But that was before you'd gotten pregnant. You're no longer worried about just yourself but also baby Liam, due to arrive in less than 8 weeks. You're supposed to be keeping your blood pressure down so as not to risk triggering an early labor.

Easier said than done, given the circumstances.

It was supposed to be a simple walk around the block. Lloyd had security guards on almost every corner to keep you safe and you desperately needed to get out of the house for a bit. Next thing you know, you're reliving your first meeting with Lloyd by getting a bag thrown over your head and getting tossed into a van. And they were not gentle about it.

The tears are flowing but they seem to be helping you keep relatively calm. They don't have you tied up at least, clearly not deeming you to be a threat. For the most part they're right. Lloyd's made sure you've learned some self-defense maneuvers, but they're no help in this. As much as you want to work out details, listen for clues, all of your energy is focused on staying calm.

Your kidnappers finally take you out of the van. You have no idea where they're taking you. All you can focus on is walking without tripping. Liam isn't really helping in this case, he's definitely going to be a heavy baby. They let you go and you hear what sounds like a cell door closing.

"You can take off the bag now," one of your kidnappers says.

You're quick to comply, hating being kept in the dark. Sure enough, you're in, what looks like, a holding cell, bars on three sides with one brick wall. There's a small cot against the wall that you know is going to do nothing for your back but you really do need to sit.

As you do so, a kidnapper talks into a radio, "we've got her secured."

Gathering up your courage you ask, "so what's the plan here? Is there an itinerary? A meal-plan? Any ideas how long I'll be here for?"

"If Hansen complies, you'll be out of here in just a few hours."

Nodding you mentally kick yourself for giving in to the urge to go out. You should've just used the treadmill Lloyd got specifically for you! But no, you just had to go outside for the fresh air. Then again, Lloyd had told you time and time again how secure he made sure the neighborhood was. Does that mean someone betrayed him? Let you be put at risk? You hope Lloyd finds whoever it was and cuts their balls off for putting you and Liam in danger.

"Can I get some water?"

A plastic bottle of water is rolled into your cell. As grateful as you are to not have to walk to get it, it's still a struggle to bend down to pick it up. Your anger rises as you hear a couple of the guards chuckling at your attempts. But you finally get the bottle and catch your breath before you drink.

These assholes might not see it, but you know they're doomed. And soon Lloyd would be breaking down the doors and killing them all. Your soulmate was ruthless. A man who'd kidnapped you and trapped you instead of just asking you out and showing your matching soulmate tattoos. A man who'd figured out all the best ways to get under your skin but also enjoyed letting you do the same to him. A man who'd let himself soften towards you, especially after your pregnancy was discovered, but who still regularly tortured people for information.

You smile softly. Yeah, these guys were all dead. They just didn't know it yet.

Before you've even finished the bottle of water, you hear loud, urgent radio chatter with guns in the background. Rubbing your belly you whisper to your baby, "daddy's here!"

Supposedly there's only one way into this area and all of your guards have their guns aimed at it. You cover your eyes, pretending to be scared but it's because you know what's about to happen. Lloyd's no idiot.

You hear the door open and the bullets go flying, but you also hear the clattering of a flash-bang on the floor. Lloyd told you it's one of the easiest tricks. Shooters always expect someone to be standing when the door opens, so if you crouch, you have a few seconds to do something before they adjust their aim. The flash-bang assures however many people are guarding you, they'll be incapacitated long enough for him to take them out.

"You okay, Pumpkin?" Lloyd's voice is a welcome sound and you uncover your eyes and smile at him as he figures out the door lock.

"So much better now, honey," you confess. "Did you find the asshole traitor?"

"Not yet," he says casually as he finally throws open the door. "But when I do, I'll make sure he gets made an example of."

You throw your arms around his neck and bring him in for a kiss. "I wanna do it with you."

Most people would be thrown off by your want to inflict violence on someone, but Lloyd gives you his cheshire cat grin and growls, "god I love you so much."

"I love you too. Now let's get out of here. Liam is hungry."

"Sure thing, sugar tits."

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[bloodchapell]

Ooh, could you write something for Xeno? Maybe a Xeno x ballerina reader?

pas de deux — xeno h. w.

what to expect: slightly suggestive, mention of manga characters, unhinged reader and unhinged xeno

your sword's note: thankyu so much for the request dear anon! i am actually a passionate xeno hater but nonetheless it is my duty to deliver something elegant for you, more on my mistresslist

Science was the most elegant thing in Xeno's world, it followed a sequence of interconnectedness and precision that would make him astonished every time. Was.

He was invited to watch the American Ballet Theater's production of Manon, it was a special performance for renowned people, so he wasn't surprised to find Stanley and the rest of the special tasks force attending too. They sat by the very front, chatting before the performance started. The performance followed the classical story, and it was fascinating to see, the syncronization and detail captivated him from the beginning, but he was too distracted analyzing the physics behind the dance. That was until you walked into the stage and began dancing, his eyes inevitably followed you like a shadow, fascinated by the movements to tell the story of your character. You were playing Manon, it was clear that your dedication to the role and to your art was one of full devotion because your performance reflected that and he was starting to feel how the majesty of your rendition of Manon overcame his senses and filled him with an indescriptable admiration.

Once the performance ended, he was the first one to stand up and clap, his eyes met yours as you were scanning the audience during the bows and your smile left him speechless and unable to think.

Most people left but the director of the production went out to greet her invitees and asked them if they would like to meet the performers, Stanley and Maya looked at each other with the least of cares, Brody agreed quietly alongside a more decided Charlotte. A few members of the cast walked in after some time, you included.

"Normally our principal ballerina prefers to rest, what brings her here?" The productor asked you.

"This is my friend Charlotte, I wanted to thank her for coming." You said giving a small hug to the blonde.

After a brief talk, you noticed Xeno looking at you so you decided to greet him.

"You actually started paying attention during the Pas de Deux right?" Stanley bothered him. Since Charlotte was dating Stanley, you knew him somewhat well. "This is my friend Xeno."

"Nice to meet you." After Stanley introduced you two, you extended your hand for a handshake and Xeno reciprocated it with a fascination that was barely concealed.

"It is an honor." He spoke with a smile, bowing his head a little.

"We are going to invite you to eat, so get changed and we will wait for you outside." Charlotte said and you nodded, walking backstage.

"You can come along too, got your eye on her?" Stanley kept teasing him.

"She is single." Charlotte added to the banter. "And a little insane too."

They waited outside the theater for fifteen minutes or so. You changed to your regular clothes and walked to the front where you met them again. While you were walking on the front with Charlotte, Xeno walked behind with Stanley, discretely looking at your clothes.

"So elegant right?" Stanley whispered and Xeno looked at him with annoyance.

Once at the restaurant, the four of you sat on a table and started talking. Stanley kept prompting questions that lead only you and Xeno to reply in an attempt to make you to interact with each other. The dinner was nice and since Charlotte and Stanley lived the opposite way of you, Xeno offered to take you home.

"I love the stars." You said on the passenger's seat of his car. "Invite me to see them."

"If I invite you, does that count as a date?"

"Sure."

The next time you saw him was for the date.

"You look astonishing, beautiful." As soon as he saw you he complimented you.

He picked you up at your doorstep and didn't fail to bring you a bouquet of pink peonies. He walked you to the car and opened the door for you like a gentleman.

The drive wasn't so long, and once you two got to the destination you observed marveled. It felt surreal that you were on a date with a NASA scientist and that he was taking you to see the stars from the Johnson Space Center.

"Well who is this?" One of his coworkers asked when they saw you two walking through the place.

"My date. Maybe my future wife" He introduced you proudly and you laughed.

After showing you around, he took you to the room where they had the telescopes, and after setting everything up, he told you to sit on a chair and pushed you close to the eyehole of the telescope.

"Do you see all those stars?" He asked and you nodded with a smile, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. "None of them shine like you."

The date went on smoothly and your fascination for each other only kept growing.

After work he would pick you up from practice and take you to eat, or invite you out to the movies or to the spa. You were enticed by his eccentric personality and he treated you like the incarnation of a goddess.

"Do you treat every girl like this?" You asked as a joke one day when you two were having a picnic.

"Other women don't exist to me." He said with all seriousness but it turned into surprise when you grabbed his cheeks.

"Then why haven't you asked me out yet?" You said close to his face.

"I was planning something." He said fast when he saw your expression demand him to explain. "Looks like I made my darling impatient."

"Yes, very." You said with a frown that quickly turned into a smile as his arms enveloped your waist and he pulled you in for a kiss.

...

The tension in the house was almost boiling to an explosion. You two got home at the same time with a furious expression.

"How was the ceremony?" Xeno asked trying to distract his mind.

"Oh I don't want to talk about that." Frustrated you said as you threw your purse at the floor almost in a fit of rage.

You both left your little home happy in the morning, with brewing excitement for your individual careers. He was about to pass a new project and you were nominated for best principal ballerina on the company.

"What happened?" Though he was just as frustrated, he took your hand.

"That stupid girl won, because her father probably paid for her to win." You said enraged. Xeno knew well about your dislike for one of the other principal ballerinas at the company, she was by far less skilled and was admitted clearly through her father's connections. "I worked and sacrificed everything to be the best, only for my efforts to not be recognized."

"Oh my darling, life is so disgustingly unfair." He pulled you for a hug and you received it fully. Your chin resting on his shoulder, your eyes reading the "rejected" stamp on the folder where he had the proposal for his project. "Do you want me to have her killed?"

"I wish it was that easy." You sighed separating a little from the hug, still with your arms tangled around his neck. He held your waist and sat you by the entrance table.

"Only people like us should be deciding important things like that." He shook his head while organizing your hair with dedication. "You have spent your life devoted to ballet and are by far the most skilled ballerina."

"I saw the folder." You mention with a frown and as soon as he heard you he threw the folder off the table.

"Just another example." He said giving you a kiss which you received gracefully. You did everything gracefully, even agreeing with his obscure ideals was a thing you did with grace and it was so elegant. The way your lips locked his was graceful, your arms around his neck as if to prevent him from trying to escape, graceful. You were ever so graceful when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pressed him close to you.

"That doesn't mean anything at all. Let's take it as a compliment, we are so good that they have to prevent us from reaching the top." You said with a smile and he nodded agreeing, fascinated by the softness of your body as he took your jacket off and trailed his kisses to the crook of your neck.

[randomfoggytiger]

Hello again, “Mourning the Lost” anon here. Thank you so much for the recs, I was struggling to find fics set directly after the end of This is Not Happening but before Mulder is exhumed; I’m working my way through the list! I noticed your reply to my ask had “Part 1/3” in the title, should I be expecting parts 2 and 3 sometime soon? 👀

Collector's Edition: Season 8, Mourning the Lost (Part 2/3)

My, oh my, how the vacay time flies~.

Yes indeedy, there are a lengthy three parts to your fic request-- because I, for one, can't figure out how to do things by half measure.

Loose chronological order below~

@alsoablankslate/tabulaxrasa‘s (LJ, tripod) Trepidatious

She dressed all in black almost unconsciously. She isn't a widow, she reproached herself. He isn't dead. But she cannot bear anything brighter.

They looked at her like she is a widow. She doesn't want them to look at all.

Within Scully remembers how rich Mulder made her life. 

baronessblixen’s 

A dream, a nightmare (Ao3)

It’s not a conscious decision to grip the shirt, to lie down in his bed, her head against his pillow. This is my side of the bed, Scully, she thinks, seeing him grin at her. She doesn’t need to close her eyes to dream of him. It’s faint, but the shirt still smells like him. Involuntary memory, the mental image of Mulder says to her, walking around in her mind, in her last memory of him. 

Within Scully remembers the night before Mulder left.

Missing You

There was nothing she could do. No matter if there was music, or the whirring of the computer, or Doggett making conversation. The fact remained that there was no Mulder. No mid-day jokes to make her giggle. No humming of random songs that would get stuck in her head, too. No sunflower seeds cracking. She misses that noise the most.

Pre-TINH Scully is bereft in her partner's absence.

Not Today (Ao3)

Mulder used to keep a few mugs on the lower shelf just for her, knowing she couldn’t reach up high. The first time, so early in their partnership, he laughed when she tried her best, on her tiptoes, her blouse riding up. He handed her a mug, promised he’d think of something. He did; he kept his promise.

But that was years ago.

Post TINH Scully refuses to finish moving out of Mulder’s apartment. 

SusanProto’s Dealing with Disappointment 

I wake up each morning and wonder if this will be the day a clue falls into my lap or a piece of information finds its way onto my desk.

I go to bed each night disappointed.

Post Without Skinner observes Scully boldly pressing onward. 

@mytardisisparked's (Ao3) Shirts (Ao3)

Her skin crawls to think of what people might say, not because she’s ashamed in any way, but because she knows that no one will ever understand the depth of her relationship with Mulder; no one can grasp exactly what he meant to her and what she meant to him. They will think of tawdry nights out on the road or locked doors in their downstairs office, rather than the encompassing love and comfort and friendship that lay between them. The rumors will make their relationship sound cheap and dirty when it was anything but. 

And then there are the people who will romanticize it, who will imagine her grief and try to sympathize when they have no real idea of how large the gaping hole in her heart is. 

Post Without-Three Words Scully wears Mulder's shirts.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls’s one in five billion - Chapter 2: “You can’t die. Please don’t die.” 

“Mulder,” she says, choked on tears. “Mulder. Mulder.” He is unresponsive, which is strange because he always has something to say. She rocks him slightly. She has never held him, not like this, not when she wanted to. 

TINH Scully begs Mulder back to life. 

pinebluffvariant’s Dresser (prompt #3)

She’d taken great care in selecting his outfit, down to the details: she had carefully searched his surprisingly sturdy thrift store dresser and folded his best dress socks, underwear, and tie into a silk pouch. You shouldn’t get silk wet, so she didn’t cry. She held her breath the whole time.

Post TINH ISTJ flies with Mulder’s body. 

@seek-its-opposite's all the old familiar places (Ao3)

She thinks that grief is an X-File, and wouldn’t Mulder find that fitting. She and Mulder (she and Mulder, she and Mulder) once chased a monster that presented itself as its victims’ worst fears. Grief is that monster without the bare-faced cunning, the obvious motive, the wink at the camera. Grief is that monster in the shadows: a dark kaleidoscopic thing that changes as soon as it’s recognized. It hit her as a whispered “agent” and Skinner’s hand on her shoulder and her feet leaving the floor. It was the vague, throbbing sense that she should fight her way out of Doggett’s arms. It was blades of grass slicing the lifelines on her palms. Wild eyes, denial, a pounding head, everything muffled and blurred and not enough air. The next day, it was forgetting that she’d called her mother already.

After that it was as slick and as tangible as the shirt that she hugged in her sleep. 

Post TINH Mulder’s legacy lives on through Scully, her family, Doggett, and the files. 

@sigritandtheelves's This Last Moment

She holds his hand.

Skinner finds her this way, hours later, expression vacant, still touching him. She is a beautiful thing made of glass that has broken.

“You can’t,” he says, but she only stares at him. “You can’t stay. We need to bring him home,” he insists.

At this her mask trembles. Home. Bring him home. That’s all she wanted to do. She won’t let go when Skinner touches her shoulder. “I just need this one moment. This last one.”

But when she says the word last, something cracks. 

Post TINH Scully (and Three Words Scully) works through the grief of Mulder’s loss (and his distanced resurgence.) 

spookycc's Together, Broken

Fox Mulder. The nameplate stares me in the face, and I pick it up, almost reverently, just as I suspect Agent Scully does. He is the reason she goes on, in the face of all the obstacles we've encountered in our search.

TINH Doggett feels like he's failed Scully.

@starwalker42's (Ao3) febuwhump day 3: immortality

As she stands over his grave, watching the dirt fall from her fingers, all she can think is that he must be out there, somewhere, waiting patiently for her. That seems like something Mulder would do.

Post TINH Scully is afraid she'll won't be able to join Mulder on the other side.

@nachosncheezies's The Bet (Ao3)

She had been wearing his sweatshirt - her sweatshirt - to sleep whenever the weather and the tiny furnace in her belly would allow it. 

AU-- Mulder and Scully married in the Pilot... which complicates her grief after TINH.

@all-these-ghosts/all_these_ghosts's Pray the Light

She calls in sick the day after the funeral. She does not apply for bereavement leave; she cannot bear the thought of filling out the form. She’s filled it out before, for her father, for Missy; there is a blank space that says relationship to deceased and there is nothing, nothing she could write in that space.

So she calls in sick and she drives to his apartment to feed the fish, and then she takes off her shoes and curls herself into a ball on his couch. After some indeterminate amount of time - ten minutes, half a day - she gets up and goes home. And the next day, and the next.

It’s a routine and a relief. The drive to Alexandria is the only prayer that doesn’t taste like ash in her mouth.

Post TINH Scully and Skinner are coping silently.

@scullyphile's (Ao3) missed calls

The worst time of day was between one and four a.m., when she lay awake missing him, especially once she realized she couldn’t sleep because she was hoping he would call.

Post TINH Scully clings to phone, hoping INTP will call.

@cecilysass/cecily_sass/Cecily Sasserbaum's Opposition And Synthesis

Is it the nature of all things to be paired?, Scully wondered.

<Maybe it is. Maybe it is part of a divine design that I do not yet understand fully.>

Post TINH Scully can't fill the hole Mulder's absence has created.

@i-gaze-at-scully/i_gaze_at_scully's Peaches to lovers 

Oh Scully, he murmurs. Don’t cry. She touches her finger to her cheek, surprised at the rivulet she finds making its way to her lips. The salt reminds her of sunflower seeds and she can hear the crack, see him smile around the shell.

Post TINH Scully avoids the memories in her apartment.

Euphrosyne's Starlight

She has taken to seeing Mulder again.

It upset her less than it should; less than it would Skinner, or Doggett, or even Frohike, if she chose to tell them.

Post TINH Scully sits alone in her apartment with her secrets.

@cuminspice's Without You (Ao3)

She lightly touched the top of the headstone, and then traced her fingers across the raised granite letters. M-U-L-D-E-R.

“Mulder it’s me,” Scully said quietly.

Post TINH Scully talks to Mulder's headstone.

@agentwhalesong/sadandangstyagent's (Ao3) Could It Be Any Harder?

“I wish you had been there to see it,” she completes after a few seconds of silence.

Her smile slowly fades as she comes to the conclusion that the answer isn’t coming. She knows that there is no way that he will get out of that grave and suddenly say, “wow, Scully, you’ve really changed since the last time I saw you.”

Post TINH Scully visits Mulder's grave.

TLynn's (LJ, XF Fanfic) Writhing Towards An Unforeseen Divination

Dana Scully was never one to believe in fate or destiny. She refused to accept that her path was already set out for her, whether it be by some unknown and unseen force or her own parents, and she was proud of the direction she had taken herself in the time she had been on this planet. But at the same time, she clung to the belief that everything happened for a reason. There was a reason she went into medicine, there was a reason she met Jack and Daniel, and there was a reason she pursued a career with The Bureau. There was a reason she was partnered with Mulder, there was a reason she believed his stories, and there was a reason she fell in love with him.

But there was nothing to convince her there was a reason for his death. 

Post TINH Scully's baby remains her only anchor.

bellefleur’s Easter Vigil

In this land of miracles, the barren conceive, and the dead live again. Resurrection is possible. Perhaps it is even to be expected. She isn't sure, since she no longer understands the rules.

All she knows for sure is that he was dead. She held his lifeless body. She touched his decaying flesh. She stood watch as they sealed him in the casket and then lowered him into the ground.

He was dead. And then he wasn't.

He is risen.

Deadalive Scully thinks of her waxing, waning faith in miracles.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[puppysuke]

hi hi hi hi hi hi hello howdy <333 I never send in asks (or interact with anyone on Tumblr for that matter) but I just AAAHHH I love your headcanons!! I think Daisuke x reader headcanons pre-relationship would be so cute... Like the confession and the mutual pining and everything omg. You don't have to do it at all, if you did that would be fantastic but no worries, um okay bye 😍😍

eats a brick and leaves on a fly ride adopt me unicorn

i am honored that you asked me for this! hopefully you like this a lot. i'll just do hc since thats what you asked, BUT if you want to req a oneshot based on this, i would love that tons and tons. i'd be happy to write that! also don't eat bricks, ok, not good for you silly. all sfw! can be read after the events of mouthwashing or a different au! if you'd like something like this in mouthwashing au, like in the tulpar and stuff, i'll write that too :3 but i guess this can be read like that too for the most part. thank you, anon, let me get you a nice muffin or something you'd like. continue reading under the cut! art by ImaHealthHazard on pinterest!

🌺 --- daisuke didn't exactly expect to fall in love with you. he really just thought you were a really good friend! 🌺 --- that was until you brought him a brownie that you had gotten from the store, knowing he had a huge sweet tooth. 🌺 --- when you gave him the brownie, he KNEW he was in love. he had tried to deny it to himself, but he couldn't anymore. 🌺 --- he didn't realize that you felt the same way for him. he thought you were just trying to be a good friend.

🌺 ---he felt like a TOTAL creep for liking you. he caught himself staring at you or daydreaming about you.

🌺 --- you were super obvious about liking him too, he just didn't realize that.

🌺 --- like the time you told him you wish you had a boyfriend like him? yeah, he thought he was just deluding himself into thinking you meant anything by it.

🌺 --- he tried to not be obvious about his feelings. he felt very guilty about it! so i tried to hide it. but he wasn't very good at it.

🌺 --- mutual friends of yours said things like "just date already!" and "so when are you guys getting together?"

🌺 --- and daisuke would panic and be like "ew why would i wanna date them???"

🌺 --- it hurt you a bit, but you didn't show it! you just went along with it.

🌺 --- you guys both were talking to your mutual friends about liking each other, so they all knew about it!

🌺 --- everyone knew but you and daisuke. even his mom had called you his girlfriend a few times...

🌺 --- you guys pined over each other for MONTHS. you fell first, but he fell WAY harder.

🌺 --- finally, the guilt got to daisuke and he decided to confess. he mainly just expected you to reject him and he figured that'd help him move on.

🌺 --- he came to you a sobbing mess after having a drink or two. he had walked to your house at 2 in the morning.

🌺 --- you let him in and sat with him, trying to comfort him, but he refused to tell you what was wrong for a good while.

🌺 --- after he finally got a hold on himself and stopped crying, he got a few words out.

🌺 --- "i need to tell you that i-" daisuke sniffled and there he went crying again.

🌺 --- you frowned and coaxed the answer out of him. "i like you! so much and i feel so bad, i'm so sorry!"

🌺 --- you just stared at him for a minute and let out a little laughed, ruffling his hair. he stared at you with big eyes and his bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

🌺 --- you very quickly told him you liked him too. he then proceeded to go on and on about how he meant he was in love with you kinda like.

🌺 --- you had to assure him you understood and felt the same. he kinda felt stupid after that.

🌺 --- "oh." daisuke wiped his tears and cleared his throat. "well! this is embarrasing."

🌺 --- needless to say, you got together not to long after that.

🌺 --- your friend group was very relieved they didn't have to listen to you two go on and on to them about eachother.

🌺 ---till they realized they needed to see you two being way too lovey dovey infront of them.

🌺 --- "wait, daisuke came to you crying?" swansea asked, sure to tease him about that for a while.

🌺 --- daisuke would brush it off and claim it made him more 'desirable' and protest he was just in tune with him feminine side!

🌺 --- also i just wanted to add this man makes you playlists 24/7. like you don't even get a chance to listen to your music because he is constantly making you playlists, it's his love language. so naturally your taste in music morphs into his.

i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this and have anything you'd like me to write from this fandom, or any other fandoms listen in my intro post, my requests are open! just ask me in my inbox and i'll write / make hc for you <3 thank you for reading!

[lokorum]

1 and 31 for the bg3 ask game if youre still doing it!!

(i love ur art so much btw)

lovely anon, thank you for your ask!! sending you soooooo many hugs!! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ this question is like GOOD just GOOD 

but also theres a bit of spoilers about what orin did, be careful if you havent played yet!!

so! ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

31. does your character have new or old phobias or superstitions that affect their story? (31)

the most obvious one is ofc isa's fear of people which manifests in all wrong ways, like they barely talk to anyone, they often refuse to listen to someone's reasonable advice\suggestions, they're scared as hell of accidental skin contact, and they're generally very hard to be around. 

when i was coming up with their backstory, their connection to bhaal was the fundament on which everything else was built upon. who do i want them to be? what's their place in the world? why are they still alive when they struggle to see any meaning in life? 

it all came down to the point where i had to decide "what kind of relationship-dynamics isa have with bhaal?". and i just went with maybe a bit too dramatic option - bhaal really loves them, sees himself in them even. guides them in a way a knife guides a hand which holds it. and this twisted "love" deprived ise from normal life almost instantly. 

all ups and downs of being "a person", of growing up, meeting people, making and breaking connections, all mistakes, doubts and self-reflection was denied to them since the moment they killed their own "parents" and felt nothing about it, or worse - felt like it was the right thing to do. 

and so at the beginning of the game, they're not scared, they're terrified. orin not just "carved out" their memories - she destroyed the only connection isa had - connection to their god.

bhaal is selfish, egocentric, and as the creature that was shaped by violence - he is constantly, on the back of his mind, so scared of the things he himself embodies. he sees the world through broken pieces of himself which he barely manages to keep together, and so of course when he teached ise how to stay alive - he became their sole survival mechanism. he stained them with his blood. or maybe, in a way, he inseparably tied them together throught it.

ise are untouchable, unreachable for others, but endlessly dependent on bhaal. 

aaaaaaaaaand now its probably the best time to say that isa are not party leader. they are like a stray dog you know? walking in and out, helping here and there, creating a mess or cleaning it once in a while. my party leader is ☆*✲⋆gale☆*✲⋆, despite his very questionable jokes about hygiene phphph 

[clownmitts]

may i request... a humble piece of aira....she is m y baby and we've got her innthe anime now she deserves to be doted onnwith fanart.... also love ur momakaruns theyre adorable... ur art looks like itd taste like those peach gummy candies. mmm slorp

Thank you so so much!!💞💞🥹🥹🥹 Here is the queen herself, it pisses me off all the hate she is receiving, that's our leader!!!!