#// i need you all to know i wrote this at the same time as the dae and sita event thread

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[ms-demeanor]

So I have vision insurance again which means I was able to go to the optometrist and get glasses through insurance for the first time in 11 years (instead of paying out of pocket and getting glasses from zenni) and here are my notes:

It's *NOT GREAT* that Luxotica is mentioned by name on the insurance card printout

I know everything got more expensive in the last ten years, but frames also got a lot more expensive and for some reason there was a huge gap in prices - my insurance covered $130 for frames and the office had a bunch of frames for $70 and a bunch of frames for $150 but basically no frames between those two price points.

When you say "I can't afford to go over the allowance" on XYZ thing they are not even *considering* the cost of progressive bifocals. So I was like "no coating, cheap frames, no extras" and then they were like "okay so the progressive bifocal is going to be over a hundred dollars more" and I was like "how much is the bifocal with a line" and they were like "oh that's only $15 but we don't consider that appropriate for your age, we recommend this other kind of lens" and it doesn't matter what you consider age appropriate for me, I can't afford that so we're not doing that.

The seventy dollar frames are all kind of trash. Super thin, super bendy, and not in a good "flexible fit" way but more in a "if you fall asleep in these you will wake up with broken glasses" way.

They wrote down my reading prescription wrong? For the last ten years I've been slowly creeping up from +.25 to my current +2.50; they told me it had increased but the printout said +.75 so either my prescription has been wrong for a while or they missed the 2 at the front of that number and my glasses are going to show up with a low magnification. (I noticed after I'd left the office but before the glasses arrived).

Given all of that, with insurance: $25 for a pair of glasses, which included the office copay.

So then of course I went to zenni and ordered glasses anyway because I've been wearing the same frame design for seven years and want another pair that look exactly like that.

Progressive bifocals WERE the most expensive part of the order, and because my prescription is stronger they are getting progressively more expensive - initially the upgrade to bifocal cost something like $30 for a lower magnification, now they're $85 for the stronger prescription.

And that's it, that's the expensive part. Fifteen dollar frames, five dollar anti-reflective coating, total for bifocals was around a hundred dollars; I got a pair of single-vision sunglasses for under $20.

Part of the reason I decided to spend more at zenni than at my optometrist's office was because I was able to get good, sturdy frames that I know fit my face and will survive mosh pits and me falling asleep on them without cracking. In order to get the same thing at the optometrist's office I would have had to pay thirty dollars more for lenses as well as forty more for frames so I would have walked out of there paying more for a pair of glasses with frames that I wasn't super excited about (there was a pair that was *okay* but not great that were similar in construction to my current frames but more bulky and square) than I did for glasses that I know I like and a pair of sunglasses.

I did end up paying less out of pocket for the visit than I would have without the insurance, and $15 for a pair of back-up glasses isn't bad. But it was all-in-all a frustrating experience.

However: I've been wearing the same pair of glasses for three years and the anti-reflective coating is worn away in some places and they're so scratched that they're impossible to actually clean in some places and large bastard looked through them last week and was like "OH! No wonder you can't tell when you need to clean your windshield! You don't get to drive at night until those are replaced" so no matter what glasses I'm wearing next week they're going to be an improvement.

[waaayoutofline]

Like Seeing A Ghost.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Prompt: Married life and family core.

Summary: Your teenage daughter changed styles, and you cant help but be remained of a certain someone.

Warnings: None. Just love and fluff.

WORD COUNT: 1490

AN: I wrote this under the wonderful influence of sleep depravation. I just corrected it grammatically. It’s the first time I have written a family related prompt, so sorry but it’ll probably be a bit cringey :´). YDN stands for: Your daughters name btw—

It was a quiet day in the Maximoff household, a rare sense of calm settling over the space. Humming softly, you switched off the vacuum and put it away, satisfied with the tidiness of the room. The peaceful silence was soon interrupted by the doorbell, drawing your attention with mild curiosity. “I’ve got it!” you called, making your way to the door. You didn’t need to check the peephole, you already knew who it was. “Darling, finally! Your mother is almost finished with—oh dear gods.”

You froze as your 16-year-old daughter stepped inside. Taking in her appearance, your eyes widened in surprise. She shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, clearly bracing herself for the reaction that didn’t come as quickly as she expected.

Gone were her typical morning clothes, replaced by a more alternative look. She wore an oversized black t-shirt featuring an old rock band, her arms covered in fishnet sleeves, fingers adorned with silver rings and chains. Her makeup, though still a work-in-progress, was heavy with black eyeliner and smudged dark red eyeshadow. A silver cross dangled from her freshly pierced ear. She completed the outfit with a mid-length skirt and red Converse sneakers. If it weren’t for her eyes—the same color as yours—you might not have recognized her at first. But even then, the look wasn’t unfamiliar. She resembled someone else you knew all too well.

“It’s… it’s—” you began, voice faltering. Your daughter braced herself even more, her posture defiant, though you could see flickers of uncertainty in her expression. That defiant stance finally broke your composure.

“It’s like seeing a ghost! Oh, my beautiful girl,” you exclaimed, bursting into delighted laughter. “It’s like going back in time. Wanda, darling, come here, please!” you called out, grinning at the uncanny resemblance.

Your heart swelled with nostalgia and amusement. You never thought you’d see such a familiar look on your own child, yet here she was, carrying a piece of the past into the present.

“What is it, love? Is it Y/D/N? I made her favorite,” Wanda called, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel before stopping abruptly. “Oh wow. This is… definitely a surprise.”

Your daughter, tired of the mixed reactions from both of you, crossed her arms defensively. “Before you say anything—no, I didn’t get any piercings or tattoos. But this is how I want to dress from now on. And if you have any issues with it, then…”

Your eyes softened at the sight of her defiance fading into vulnerability. You glanced at Wanda, who nodded. “Darling, you don’t owe us any explanations,” she said gently.

“I… don’t?” Y/D/N repeated, tentatively. You took a step forward, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Of course not. You know your mom and I want you to discover who you are. All we care about is that you don’t hurt yourself in the process. Why would you think we’d be upset?”

Your daughter’s shoulders relaxed as the tension eased. “A… friend of mine dresses like this, and her parents didn’t take it well. They told her if she didn’t dress ‘normal,’ they’d send her to some creepy summer camp.”

Wanda frowned. “Well, they’re idiots.” Your daughter smiled at that. “They are! Like your mom said, we’ll never judge you for who you are. All we want is for you to be safe and happy.”

With that, she smiled and pulled you both into a hug. “Thanks for being such cool parents.” You exchanged a glance with Wanda and hugged her back.

“I mean… if we weren’t, we’d be total hypocrites.” Your daughter tilted her head in curiosity, prompting a laugh from you as you moved toward the living room.

Wanda scoffed. “Oh, don’t you dare, Y/N,” she warned playfully, following close behind, already anticipating your next move. Before she could stop you, you pulled out the family photo album. Your daughter plopped down next to you on the couch, while Wanda took her place on the armrest, wearing a mock pout.

Flipping through the pages, you found what you were looking for. “Why haven’t I seen this before?” Y/D/N asked, eyes wide with interest.

“These are from years before you were born,” you explained softly, turning the album’s pages with care. “Most were taken when your mother and I first met. We kept them hidden… because she was a little shy about them.”

Wanda playfully nudged your arm, her smile a little bashful. “Do you really have to show them? I’d like for our daughter to still respect me, you know.”

You grinned, glancing at your daughter. “Of course, I do! I mean, just look at her. You two are practically twins—it’s adorable.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, though her blush deepened. “You’re having too much fun with this.”

As you flipped another page, your daughter gasped, eyes widening in disbelief. Wanda’s face turned a deep shade of red as she quickly covered her face with her hands, her embarrassment palpable. You, however, couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me you were so cool?” Y/D/N exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as she snatched the album from you, flipping through the pictures like a child on Christmas morning.

“What do you mean “were”?” Wanda huffed in mock offense. “I’m still cool!”

A brief silence followed, punctuated only by Wanda’s playful exasperation. You reached out, squeezing her hand, the warmth of her skin grounding both of you. The resemblance between mother and daughter was striking, as if time had folded in on itself. “That picture,” you said, pointing to a particular one, “was taken around the time I first met your mom. She was this emo, tough, and incredibly intimidating girl—” You started dramatically, glancing at Wanda, who shot you a half-hearted glare.

“Okay, okay, no need to humiliate me further,” Wanda cut in, trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

“Humiliate?” You softened your voice, your eyes meeting hers. “That was the version of you I fell in love with.” You turned another page, your tone warm and nostalgic. “I mean, the whole ‘bad girl’ thing really worked for me.”

“Mom, gross!” Y/D/N laughed, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust.

You nudged her playfully. “Oh, hush. What I’m trying to say is… I fell in love with that Wanda, and every version after her.”

With each page you turned, years passed in the photographs. Different styles, changing haircuts, moments of growth captured in still images. But one thing remained constant—your love.

“…and the next,” you continued quietly. “Because that’s what love is. It’s not about how someone dresses or looks. It’s about loving them for who they are, through every version, and with how they express themselves to the world.”

You closed the album gently and reached for your daughter’s hands, holding them tenderly. “That’s why no matter how you choose to present yourself, it will never change how we feel about you. You are our daughter, and we will always love you—no matter what.” Y/D/N smiled, her eyes bright with relief and understanding. Wanda, still blushing from your words, looked at both of you with so much love that it was almost overwhelming. A sudden thought crossed her mind, her lips curving into a small, playful smile.

“You know,” Wanda began, her voice light, “if you’re interested, I still have some of those clothes.”

Your daughter’s eyes lit up. “No way.”

“Oh yes, way. Why don’t you start by heading up to the attic? I’ll join you in a sec.”

In an instant, your daughter gave Wanda a quick, excited hug before practically running towards the stairs. You and Wanda exchanged a glance, bursting into quiet laughter. As you stood up, Wanda caught you by the waist, pulling you close, her eyes filled with nothing but love. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She leaned in and kissed you, slow and tender.

“Mama! Do you still have that red jacket?” your daughter called from upstairs, breaking the moment. Wanda sighed, chuckling under her breath as she pulled away.

“I do!” Wanda called back, her voice filled with affection. “In fact, that jacket I stole from Auntie Nat!”

Another excited shriek echoed down the stairs, and you both shared a fond look.

“I better go before she tears down the attic,” Wanda said with a small smile, taking a step back.

You nodded, watching her as she began to leave, but she paused at the doorway and turned back, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Hey,” she whispered, “I am cool, right?”

A full, hearty laugh escaped you, the sound filling the room with warmth. “Yeah, Wanda. You’re the coolest.”

Wanda grinned, the playful tension melting away as she disappeared up the stairs, leaving you with a heart full of love and a smile that lingered long after she was gone.

[missnxthingg]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬, 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫 . (𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑼 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵) - 𝐹𝐼𝑉𝐸 (𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑜)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 - We're close to an ending 😭 I really hope this is a preview of real life, because I NEED to see Lando win this year. Also, don't forget to check part one and the original chapter of the story.

original chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist | pt 1

landonorris

Marina Bay, Abu Dhabi

landonorris One last challenge this year, this time with the entire family by my side ❤ LFG!

yourusername Avengers, assemble!

↪landonorris Ur such an idiot, I love you ↪yourusername Learned it from the best

maxfewtrell Good to be here, brother

username1 Ollie is here! Omg, daddy Lando content incoming

username2 This is so cute! They are all reunited to see if he's going to be a world champion

↪username3 praying for it to work! He deserves it so much ↪username4 just the fact that they are all there for him makes me sob 😭 they are so cute

yourusername added to their stories

Caption: One more sleep until the big day

f1

f1 LANDO NORRIS IS YOUR 2024 WORLD CHAMPION!

tagged: landonorris

username1 oh my god, we got to see lando win his first race and first championship in the same year

username2 him as a world champion was NOT on my bingo card back in january

username3 LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO

username4 LAST RACE KING, WE DID IT!

yourusername YES! 🧡 that's my man

↪username5 the best wag we have now! ↪username6 THE KISS YOU SHARED AFTER THE RACE, OMG! ↪username7 please lando ask her hand in marriage soon 🙏

yourusername

yourusername Everybody knows I'm not someone to give off big ass texts on the internet, especially for something I've been particularly saving for myself for a really long time. But today is a special day, and I couldn't wait until I wrote this open letter to you.

Lando, my world champion, I remember the first time we ever met. I was barely anything about a mere intern on the social media team, and you still didn't have a single hair on your face. Look at how far we've come.

This win will forever be unforgettable. You deserve every moment of glory and happiness from all the hard work you've been doing for this. You're the world's best boyfriend and godfather. Ollie and I love you very much, and we are beyond proud of you. We'll always have your back. And we'll always be here to cherish, cheer and take care of you.

Proud to be LN4 and papaya on the heart 🧡

tagged: landonorris

comments are limited

landonorris My love, this is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me. I love you and I'm so glad to have you and Olivia in my life. To many more conquests in our lives from now on.

landonorris

landonorris Celebrated it properly ❤ A little party never killed nobody

tagged: yourusername

username1 I'm glad to see DJ Lando didn't die when he became a boyfriend

↪username2 we all know he'll never stop partying ↪username3 maybe we'll see more of y/n out partying with him from now on

username4 Living for the second picture omg

username5 the love of his life, truly

yourusername Same place and same reason to celebrate next year?

↪landonorris Bet

yourusename

London, England

yourusername Future world champion in the making. First classes: road driving

tagged: landonorris

landonorris I need someone to carry on my legacy in the future

↪yourusername Your F1 goat!

username1 now that he's world champion, time to teach someone else to be that as well

username2 Back to his family ❤

↪landonorris The best place in the world

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

[harksness]

A/N: i was so feral over detective harkness i wrote a quick lil smut fic (thanx to the rings anon who gave me an idea for this lol <3)

also I KNOW SHES TECHNICALLY AGNES HERE SHHHH JUST GO WITH IT

Warnings: SMUT, oral, Agatha receiving, hair pulling, degradation and praise. Dom! Agatha as per usual. Sub! Reader as per usual.

WC: 2.1k

Carefully, you push the door to Agatha’s office closed behind you and twist the lock. She doesn’t even notice that you entered, hunched over her desk with papers and files sprawled out beneath her, pen clenched in her left hand as she bends over the mess. Strands of hair had slipped out of her ponytail, hanging along the sides of her face.

Once in a while you’ll surprise her at work like this. She’s been so stressed lately that she hasn’t been sleeping through the night. That's not abnormal for your wife, she is a bit of a workaholic afterall, but sometimes she just needs you to drag her back into reality. And that's been hard to do with your conflicting work schedules and her long days lately.

Slowly, so you don't startle her, you walk over to Agatha’s desk. Her eyes glance up to you but don’t seem to process you right away as the flick back down to her work, before landing back on you again. As the realization finally sinks in, a smile grows on her features.

“Hey, hot stuff.”

Your heart leaps into your throat at the way she shoots you a wide grin, legs spreading as she leans back in her office chair to look up at you.

“Hey, even hotter stuff.”

She snorts at your flirting, throwing her pen down onto her desk. It makes you feel a little too smug that it's so easy for her to forget her work when you're around.

“You don’t look in the mirror as much as you should. You’re obviously the hotter stuff.”

She argues lightheartedly as you turn and lean against the desk next to her, the plush of your ass digging into the edge of the tabletop as you smile down at her.

“Well I could say the same thing to you.”

Again, she snorts.

“I’ve barely slept the last few days, my eye bags are huge, my hair is a mess and I’ve got stains all down the front of my frumpy flannel. I’m not hot right now.”

Agatha's eyes are tired and her words make your heart ache in your chest. She's always the most beautiful thing in the world, the details don't matter. She's just always stunning.

You lean in towards her and take her face in your hands, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans into your touch.

“You’re always hot, baby.. It doesn’t matter the circumstances.”

You coo at her, a little laugh escaping her lips as you lean in and press a kiss to her forehead. You decide to speak up before she can continue arguing you, knowing her stubbornness wouldn't let this go unless you changed the subject.

“You look stressed, my love..”

Agatha groans at your words, frustrated.

“There’s just a lot going on right now.. Yknow?”

You nod your head in understanding. When you married her, you knew this is what you were signing up for. She’s obsessed with her job, gone for long periods of time and unable to take her mind off of her work. And that dedication is something you love about her regardless. You’re okay with being her anchor, tethering her and bringing her back to reality. She always floats back to you when you pull her back down to Earth, and that’s all you could ever ask for. 

You’ll happily keep doing this for the rest of your life.

Leaning down, you press your lips against her cheek in a lingering kiss, lips ghosting against her skin as you speak.

“Why don’t you let me help you take your mind off of things for a bit..”

You whisper against her soft skin, and she lets out an amused noise as you continue to kiss her, your lips moving to trace along her jawline as you guide her head to tilt to the side.

“Baby… Fuck.. We can’t-”

As she says that her hands are reaching for you, grabbing you and pulling you closer. You smile against her skin.

“Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you really want me to..”

She doesn't answer, torn between doing what she wants and the responsible thing.

You pull back, admiring her beautiful, tired features for a moment. She looks up at you with love pooling in her eyes as you trace your thumb affectionately along her cheek, under the deep purple bags creasing under her pretty bright eyes before placing a lingering kiss on her lips.

Then, you quickly glance behind you at the door you locked on the way in, ensuring it’s still secure before you drop to your knees in front of her, right below her desk and between her spread legs. The firm carpet is rough on your knees but you don't care, the woman before you is more important. She groans and lets out a louder curse at the sight of you before her.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this..”

She breathes the words out and you smile up at her, leaning forward and running your hands up her clothed thighs.

“Then let me make your fantasy come true, baby.. Please?”

You beg sweetly, batting your eyelashes up at her. She digs her teeth into her bottom lip, eyes flickering greedily over you as she contemplates what to do. 

“Fuck, you’re worth getting fired over.”

You’re grinning ear to ear as you lean forward, running your hands from her knees all the way up her thighs and to the waist of her pants. She watches you with eager eyes, greedy smile etched into her pretty pink lips as she raises her hips off the chair.

Quickly, your hands scramble to undo her pants before grabbing the hem and pulling them down and off her legs, underwear and all, leaving her bare for you as more and more of her soft, pale skin is exposed.

She laughs softly at your eagerness, raising a hand to card sweetly through your locks.

“You begged for this, sweet girl.. Now, you better do a good job if you’re willing to risk my career over it.”

She teases and you lean in, holding her gaze as you press a lingering, open mouth kiss to the inside of her knee. You’re a bit insulted by her words.

“I would never leave you unsatisfied..”

You mumble against her plush skin, taking your time as you softly, firmly press your open mouth against her thigh over and over again as you trail kisses further up her legs.

Here and there you bite softly, dragging your teeth across the sensitive flesh. You feel yourself turning into putty beneath her at every soft gasp that slips past her lips, one of her hands mindlessly toying with your hair.

You start to repeat the actions on her other thigh, wanting to lavish her with sweet kisses and worship her when she lets out a frustrated sigh. Agatha winds her fingers into your hair, slumping down even further and spreading her legs wider as she pushes your mouth against her waiting cunt. You groan, immediately parting your lips as you breathe her in eagerly.

“No teasing, sweetheart… You’re gonna be a good girl and give me exactly what I want, aren’t you?”

She coos down at you, soothingly rubbing her fingers against your scalp. Immediately you let out a needy noise against her and nod your head, desperate to please.

“Good fuckin girl.”

Her voice is low as you drag your tongue through her wet folds. She lets out a controlled, quiet noise, only loud enough for you to hear as you lick up her sweetness. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the taste of her heavy on your tongue.

You begin toying with her clit, first using your tongue to ghost over it in experimental patterns as you try to wind her up. Her chair creaks as she shifts a bit, hand tightening in your hair. 

You can’t get enough of the taste of her. Heavy and metallic and so good, you don't think it could ever be enough. You’d live between her thighs, eating and surviving off of nothing but her pussy for the rest of your life if you could. You make out to kiss the little bud, puckering your lips as you drag them over it before opening your mouth and sucking it between your lips. 

She groans at that, throwing her head back against the back of her seat as you flick your tongue along her clit in quick passes, groaning against her wet cunt as you do. You feel her arousal soaking your lips, and you want to lick up every sweet drop.

“Fuck, baby..”

Agatha curses, heavy breaths dropping from her lips as she looks down at you with lidded eyes. You look back up at her, squirming desperately from your place between her legs.

“You’re such a slut, just for me, hm? So desperate for me to fuck your mouth that you had to crawl under my desk and beg for it, hm?”

Agatha's voice is breathy and erratic as she rests one arm against her chair, canting her hips up against your waiting mouth, her hand buried in your hair and forcing you down and against her with each thrust. You groan against her cunt, breathing heavily as she grinds herself against your tongue. 

You just hold your tongue out for her, letting her guide you however she needs as she fucks herself against your mouth.

“Say it, say you’re my slut with your mouth full of my pussy..”

You groan at her words, nails biting into her calves as you gargle out the words that are muffled by her cunt. She laughs softly, dropping her hips back down onto the chair for a moment and pulling your head back. You heave for air, a stupid smile on your lips as you feel her wetness soaking your lips and chin.

“Say it again.”

Agatha demands, a sadistic grin on her features as she sharply pulls your head back by the fistfull of your hair. You can’t control the moan that bursts past your lips as the delicious sting settles across your scalp.

“I’m your slut, Agatha.. Just yours.. I belong to you..”

You manage to heave the words between breaths and she grins down at you with a satisfied smile on her lips.

“Good girl. Now, get back to work, slut..”

She demands, leaning back into her chair once again and you’re eagerly diving back between her soft thighs, warm and dewey with a thin layer of sweat. Her moans are more frequent now, soft and quiet and deep as they escape her lips. You suck her clit between your teeth gently, flicking your tongue over the nub as quickly as you can.

“Ooooh.. Yes..”

Agatha breathes out, jolting a bit as she raises her hips off of her seat, pressing your needy mouth harder against her wet cunt as she begins to rut against your tongue desperately. You moan into her, meeting each thrust, making sure each movement of your tongue on her clit is calculated and precise.

She gasps sharply, freezing and desperately smushing your face harder against her. You know she’s close, and with that you harshly suck on her clit, hands desperately pawing at her soft thighs as they squeeze around your head, her mouth hung open in a silent moan as she curls in on you, curses dropping from her lips.

Your whole world stops and she’s the only thing that exists as she seizes up, sharp gasps escaping her lips as her eyes pinch shut, body tensing all around you as she cums against your waiting mouth. You watch her with wide eyes, drinking in every little reaction.

A strand of her lovely brown hair sticks to the side of her face, her long, pale neck exposed. You just want to pepper kisses along every inch of her skin. The way her fingers are tightly gripping your hair burns your scalp, but you revel in the sting because it’s just an expression of her pleasure as she cums for you.

With one last relieved gasp her grip on your head loosens and she collapses into her chair, the wheels clanking as she throws her weight back down onto it. She starts breathily laughing, raising one hand to push her stray hairs behind her ears while she rubs soothing circles against your scalp with the other. 

“Ahh.. You’re right.. You never leave me unsatisfied. You’re so good for me, sweet girl..”

She coos, smiling lazily down at you before she leans forward, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. You hum happily, a lovesick grin on your lips.

“I’m always happy to be good for you.."

You smile up at her, resting a cheek on her soft, warm thigh. But the sweet moment is short lived, because your features drop and panic sets in when a firm knocking sounds from her office door.

[bengiyo]

Hello 👋

All of your favorite horniest sex scenes?

Hello! I've been busy, so this has taken forever to get to!

I don't always need the guys to bounce around on each other and gyrate enthusiastically for it to out as horny. Oftentimes, I find myself more drawn in by the building desire between the characters, and the explicit acknowledgement of release. I like when the sex feels like it's also revealing something to us about the characters. I've highlighted many of these before, but it's fun to revisit.

Ghost Host, Ghost House Episode 4 Couch Scene

I will never get over this scene, and especially the director's cut of it. These guys knew they liked each other almost instantly, and it was so rewarding to see them reach a place where they could express that. Bonus points for discussing the logistics of gay sex.

This show has been on Gaga and YouTube for a while, but it's also now available on Viki!

La Pluie Episode 6 Floor Scene and Episode 7 Bed Scene

I liked this scene so much that I wrote about it. Again, there's a lot of anticipation between these two, and you can tell how far it's built up because Patts has to dial it back down when Saengtai wants to stop. It's especially important to me because Saengtai does blow Patts in the next episode. If you're on iQIYI, there's an extended cut of that at the end of the video lists.

Mood Indigo: The Post-Funeral Scene

These two are so horrible for each other, but damn are their sex scenes compelling. Theirs are the kinds of scenes only possible between two people you know can never work long term. I was so glad that we got back to Haruhiko in Playback, and the first thing he did was blow Rio in a car. If you haven't seen the Novelist, and you're itching for hornier BL, it's right there.

The End of the World With You "You're Soaked"

From the same team as The Novelsit, we got to experience baby's first fuckboy in this incredible show. Again, I love when we get scenes with couples who aren't ready to work, because they're allowed to have raunchier sex. They get to amp the intensity of the physicality because they need to give a reason why someone was so caught up and missed the warning signs. I actually love the car scene later as a more romantic intimacy scene, but we're focusing on horny here.

Jack o' Frost Birthday Sex

A common theme here with the Japanese offerings is that people are allowed to have more interesting sex scenes right before they split. This is true even in Jack o' Frost. We get a really great oner from the leads that precedes their breakup and Ritsu's accident. I think this might be my favorite of this list because the actors have to build the entire scene together since there aren't any cuts.

Gameboys 2 Bed Scene

Cairo and Gav are one of my favorite pandemic couples we got on screen, and I was quite relieved for them when they finally got to have this moment. We also confirmed they switch, and I love that.

Wedding Plan: Namnuea Showing Off His Stamina

No list for me would be complete without including them. I really loved seeing two gay men go at it after clearing out all of their misunderstandings. They had already had sad goodbye sex. It was thrilling to see them having enthusiastic, athletic sex. This also leads directly to one of my favorite emotional payoffs for a closeted character of all time.

Kiseki: Dear to Me Reunion

The second couple stole this show, but damn if I didn't love the way these two played out sex across multiple years between their characters. These two really suffered, and I really love the way Taro Lin and Hsu Kai captured the changes between these two as Bai Zong Yi grew and matured. This really was a solid sex scene.

Love Class 2: Sungmin and Joo Hyuk

I just really wanna thank them for reassuring me that if Korea wanted to, they could deliver.

Sleep With Me Jeans Scene

I am not a lesbian, but I share their beliefs. This scene was so good. I loved that these two, who have different kinds of disabilities, were able to have a very fun sex scene. I really like when it's clear both characters want to be there.

Only Friends: Boston and Top in the Car

Despite my eventual disdain for this show, I was impressed with Neo and Force for giving this incredibly selfish sex scene between their characters. This entire scene is about injured egos, and it's a standout scene from this show. We won't discuss the rest of the show here.

Thanks for the ask!

[peachesofteal]

Hi Peach, I’m a long time reader and I just love all your stories and watching how they unfold.

I just wanted to ask quickly if you had thought about writing something under the same wavelength of Simple Math or Dead Disco, like with an anxious or shy reader, but with Kyle and John together?

Would they react and treat reader in the same way Johnny and Simon do? Or would it be different?

I know you’ve got a few stories on the go so if not it’s all cool, feel free to ignore this ask. :)

Also can I just say I love when stories link to their titles and the way your wrote it in simple math, just perfect. I can’t wait to see where this goes but I’m so nervous for Bun it’s not gonna be easy, but at least she has Johnny and Simon this time! 🩷

I actually love this and shelved it for possible future things. I can tell you 1. The daddy kink would be out of control and 2. Reader would be the most weepy bundle of anxiety. Work from home baby that is too nervous in the grocery store or on public transit. Doesn’t like when strangers talk to her. Can’t take herself to doctor’s appointments. Loves yoga but can only go to the studio when Kyle takes her. Manages fine when they’re gone though, reads and cooks and gets her groceries delivered, keeps the flat clean and enjoys her routines. Has a cat (loves Kyle but hates John because he’s always shooing her away) that keeps her company. She does fine on her own, well even, but it’s nothing compared to her life when they’re fully in it.

I think at home when Kyle is out of his expertise, his element, the place where he thrives, he also starts to develop some anxiety that manifests in a desire for control, which John allows, to an extent. John carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and instead of coming to bed, he sits on the back patio and smokes a cigar to the end until one of them comes outside to curl up in his lap or rest their head on his thigh. Dead Disco very much revolved around Darling, and I think this dynamic would be different. Everyone would need a little bit of personalized care.

Also thank you! I love working the titles in 🩵

[starlostastronaut]

SURPRISE TO GO

kim seungmin × reader - fluff, non idol au, coffee shop au, barista!seungmin - 1.1k

summary - seungmin spends his birthday working because his friends are busy. but are they really?

links - masterlist

yall i finally finished this. i forgot about seung's birthday and none of my drafts felt right so i wrote this quickly today. it's still 22nd in korea so i'm still on time. happy seungmin day! happy birthday my love! <333

no proofread and written in hurry. i hope you still enjoy and let me know your thoughts! <3

The bell rang above your head as you entered the small café. There were not many people inside at this hour. It was nearing the evening and the café was slowly going to sleep, people leaving and employees cleaning the emptying tables. You looked over the place, your eyes stopping at the coffee station. There he was, busy with preparing drinks and looking stupidly hot while doing it. Nope, focus, not the time for that now.

You felt it was a crime to make Seungmin work on his birthday, but volunteered anyway, when another barista called in that morning with food poisoning. When you asked why he did it, he just replied why not, the extra money was always worth it and his friends were busy anyway today.

Which was true. But not for the reason Seungmin thought. Ever since this morning, your secret group chat was blowing up with things going wrong. First the cake you ordered arrived damaged, then the restaurant canceled on you at the last minute… it was always something. Even now, you felt your phone constantly buzzing in your pocket.

You found yourself at a quiet corner table, where Seungmin wouldn't immediately see you from where he was and you took out your phone, dreading whatever catastrophe was awaiting you. Rolling your eyes at the chat name (seriously, who let Hyunjin name it?) you opened the messages.

SEUNGMINNIE'S BIRTHDAY BONANZA CLUB

sunshine baby sent a photo

sunshine baby: me and minho-hyung just saved the day!!

work of ART: wow the cake looks amazing lix

work of ART: me and changbin-hyung are almost done with wrapping the presents

work of ART: btw who's idea was it to do everything with pochacco paper? i hate that damn dog now he's everywhere 😭

devil bunny: stop being dramatic hyunjin you volunteered 🙄

DAD(dy): karaoke reservation for 7pm confirmed

DAD(dy): get your asses here and help innie with decorating

Oh. Finally some good news. You quickly responded to the guys, deciding on when to bring Seungmin to the karaoke. Checking the time, you realized you had about an hour left before Seungmin's shift ends and you need to somehow get him to the karaoke, where there is a surprise party waiting for him. Hopefully. But you trusted Chan that he can handle his six chaotic kids and nothing would go wrong again.

Deciding to make your presence known, you walked up to the counter. “Hey Seung,” you said, leaning your forearms on the counter as you checked the menu. “I'll have… whatever this is.” You pointed to the picture of this month's special drink, not daring to guess what was inside. But it looked big and complicated enough to hopefully fill some of the hour you had.

“Y/N.” Seungmin looked up in surprise, his lips immediately stretching into a soft smile when he saw it was you. He looked almost surprised to see you there. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see my favourite boy,” you smiled. “And because he's working today…” You looked up, your eyes meeting his. Looking into Seungmin's eyes was always an experience. His dark, deep, chocolate eyes held the stars of the universe in them and you often found yourself weak to the love you saw when he looked at you. Sometimes, it took all your willpower to not avert your gaze. It felt like a bright beam of the sun, blinding and warm at the same time. And you weren't backing now.

If Seungmin's coworker was here, he would have by now uttered some ridiculous comment about the very obvious tension and to get a room. Luckily for you, Jongho was cleaning up spilled coffee, facing away from you.

“I wouldn't drink that if I were you,” Seungmin chuckled. What? Oh right, you were ordering a drink.

“Why not? It looks… fun?”

“It's disgusting as fuck.” Seungmin quickly looked around, letting out a relieved sigh when his manager was nowhere to be seen. “Our manager keeps coming up with insane things, but it went downhill after the first one. I'll make you your usual?” he offers instead.

You chuckled at his answer. He was the expert here. “Sure, thank you baby.”

Seungmin winked at you and began making your usual order. Moving away to not stand in the way but to have a good view of your boyfriend still, you leaned on the counter.

You loved watching Seungmin to do just about anything. He moved with practiced ease, knowing the steps by heart. If you woke him up at midnight and told him to do something, he would excel at it half asleep. He was calm, confident and always knew what to do. It was hot.

“There you go.” Seungmin slid your drink over to you and you smiled when you saw a cookie next to the cup.

“Is this the girlfriend privilege?” you laughed, carefully unwrapping the cookie and breaking it in half. You waited for when Seungmin was free again to call him over and feed him half of the cookie as he laughed and protested he's on the clock and shouldn't. As it turned out, bothering Seungmin was a great way to pass up your time and before you knew it, he was clocking out and offering his hand to you so you could leave together.

You led Seungmin to the karaoke, making up a lie about how you wanted to eat dinner together to explain why you weren't taking the usual route back to his and Felix's place.

“Karaoke?” Seungmin raised his eyebrow when you arrived in front of the building.

“You like singing and the buffet is great?” you shrugged, pulling him inside.

You made your way to one of the rooms, leading Seungmin into the darkness. “Happy birthday Seungmin!” the guys shouted as you flicked on the light, revealing your friends, balloons and gifts wrapped in matching wrapping paper and the cake Felix and Minho made.

While Seungmin stared in shock, you grabbed your present, lining up with the guys to congratulate him. “Thank you, Y/N,” Seungmin smiled as he received the box and you knew it wasn't just for the gift.

Later you watched him unwrap the presents with a glass of champagne in hand, enjoying his reactions to the gifts of all sorts. Sentimental ones, nice ones, and Minho's. That one deserved its special category, because the way he doubled over in laughter when he saw the shorts and couldn't show you for a solid two minutes, was something you very rarely saw. His eyes sparkled, barely visible with how much he laughed and that would forever be your favourite sight.

taglist: @stayconnecteed @hanjsquokka @starseungs @starlostseungmin @ivaneedssleep @bbybearcubbs @lakoya @rylea08 @caitlyn98s @oddracha @sweetbokji @feybin @qwonyoung23 @jiaaabbahng @hope69world @palindrome969 @alicedawitchbish @hyunjinshairband7 @nattisbored @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @kirakombat @kmgfeels @freyjhasdesiredreality @dazzlingjade @boldy-49 @naarmzz @rei-reia @cookiesandcreammy @urfavblondy @chlodavids @armystay89 @btskzfav @vegetablesarefuntables @tearzzuu @ch4nn13luv @kisses-too-the-moon @mellhwang @lolareadsimagines @missmajdastark @drewsandsebastianswife @mitchii @chillichillicrabcrab23 @laniminchanlix @dearly-somber @greyyeti @linosazuna @na-tas-post

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[charlieg1rl]

Hey! I'm Aira~

I love reading stories about Sky but I'm not good at writing them at all... 😭😭

In your post you wrote you are available for ideas for new writings! I have a cute idea for ya~ Hope you like it and consider writing it~

"Chan was in an amazing relationship with an gorgeous girl, Yumi, whom he loved with all his heart. He always told himself that he would do anything for her, or at least that's what he thought...

-

Everything in their relationship was perfect and remained perfect until the fateful day when Yumi found out she was pregnant. Chan had always wanted to have children but Yumi didn't.

-

At that moment the relationship between the two collapsed. Yumi had no intention of having an abortion but absolutely wanted to give her child up for adoption on the same day of birth. Chan on the other hand was absolutely against adoption.

-

He would have done anything for Yumi except give away his son!

This led to endless fights between the two and the final breakdown of their relationship.

-

9 months later the baby was born and Chan took custody of him becoming a single father. He named his son Andrea.

-

Due to his very demanding job he found himself needing the help of a babysitter, Y/N (reader).

-

At the beginning you took care of Andrea while Chan was at work. But as time went by you ended up taking care of the overworking man too..."

-

Then a cute continuation of the story about the two of them...

𝐡𝐢 𝐀𝐢𝐫𝐚! 𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭!

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟏𝐤

The sun barely peeked over the horizon as Chan shuffled into the kitchen, the weight of his new responsibilities heavy on his shoulders. He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Andrea, his infant son, had been up three times during the night, and Chan had barely managed to get any rest.

The doorbell rang, and Chan quickly straightened up, trying to look presentable despite the exhaustion etched into his face. He opened the door to find Y/N, a bright, friendly face ready to start her day. Her smile was a small beacon of light in the otherwise gray morning.

“Good morning, Mr. Chan,” Y/N greeted, stepping inside. “How’s Andrea this morning?”

Chan sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “He’s been up all night. I’m not sure how I’m going to manage today.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Let me take over for a bit, and you can get some rest.”

Chan nodded gratefully, handing Andrea over to Y/N. As he watched her expertly soothe the baby, he couldn’t help but notice how natural she was with him. Y/N’s gentle touch and soft voice had an immediate calming effect on Andrea.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N became a fixture in Chan’s life. She wasn’t just taking care of Andrea—she was also helping Chan navigate his new reality. She made him coffee in the mornings, kept him company during his lunch breaks, and often stayed late to help with any remaining tasks.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Chan slumped onto the couch with a groan. Y/N was still there, tidying up the kitchen. She glanced over and saw the weariness in his eyes.

“Long day?” she asked, her tone gentle.

Chan nodded, rubbing his face with his hands. “You could say that. I’m trying to keep up with work and be a good father, but it feels like I’m constantly falling short.”

Y/N walked over and sat down next to him, her presence surprisingly comforting. “It’s not easy, I’m sure. But you’re doing a great job, Chan. Andrea is lucky to have you.”

Chan looked at her, a mix of gratitude and vulnerability in his eyes. “Thanks, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There was a moment of silence between them, filled with unspoken words and lingering glances. Chan’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, and he felt a sudden, unexpected connection. Y/N, in turn, felt a flutter in her chest as she met his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Y/N offered softly. “Sometimes it helps.”

Chan hesitated, then took a deep breath. “It’s just... it’s hard to let go of how things were supposed to be. Yumi and I had planned for a future together, and now everything is so different. I didn’t expect to be doing this alone.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes empathetic. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must be. But you’re not alone, you know. You have Andrea, and you have people who care about you. You’ve been through a lot.”

Chan leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I guess I never thought I’d find myself in this position. I wanted to be a father, but I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

Y/N reached out and touched his hand gently. “You’re doing great, Chan. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Just remember that it’s okay to ask for help.”

Chan looked down at their entwined hands, feeling a warmth spread through him. “Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know how to express how much your support means to me.”

Their fingers lingered together, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. Y/N’s heart raced as she looked up at Chan, realizing how much she cared for him. Chan felt a deep sense of connection, but he was cautious, not wanting to rush anything.

Days turned into weeks, and the bond between Chan and Y/N grew stronger. They found themselves sharing more personal moments, talking about their hopes and dreams. Y/N began to notice the little things that made Chan special—his laugh, the way he cared for Andrea, the kindness he showed to those around him.

One evening, as they were finishing up a late-night feeding, Y/N and Chan found themselves alone in the living room. Chan was exhausted, and Y/N was doing her best to stay upbeat.

“You don’t have to stay so late,” Chan said, looking at her with concern. “You must be tired.”

Y/N smiled softly. “I don’t mind. I actually enjoy the time we spend together, even if it’s just talking while Andrea sleeps.”

Chan’s heart skipped a beat. He realized how much he looked forward to these moments with her. “I do, too. I’ve started to look forward to your company.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I’m glad. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you better.”

Chan took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of nervousness and hope. “Y/N, I know this is probably sudden, but I have to ask—how do you feel about us? I mean, about me and you?”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, her heart pounding. “Chan, I—”

Before she could finish, Chan reached out and gently took her hand. “I’m not expecting anything right away. I just... I don’t want to ignore what I’m feeling. I care about you, Y/N.”

Y/N looked down at their joined hands, feeling a surge of emotion. “I care about you too, Chan. More than I thought I would.”

Their eyes met, and the tension between them was palpable. Chan leaned in slowly, his heart racing as he closed the distance between them. Y/N met him halfway, their lips touching in a gentle, tentative kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, a shared smile on their faces. Chan took Y/N’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Let’s take things slow, okay? We don’t have to rush anything.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with affection. “I’d like that.”

As the days passed, Chan and Y/N’s relationship continued to develop. They navigated the complexities of their feelings while adjusting to their roles in each other’s lives. Chan’s career was still demanding, but with Y/N by his side, he felt more balanced and content. Their bond deepened, and they became a cherished part of each other’s lives.

Months later, as Chan, Y/N, and little Andrea sat together in their cozy living room, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and happiness. Chan glanced over at Y/N, who was smiling as she played with Andrea, and felt a profound sense of gratitude.

They had come a long way from the shadows of their past, finding sunshine in each other’s company. Chan knew that the journey wasn’t over, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready to face whatever came next. He was sure, she was the one for him.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[moni-logues]

Home Run

Pairing: Bangchan x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: smut, basically pwp but there's a semblance of plot if you read the other pieces, friends-to-lovers

Word count: 2.2k

Content: protected sex, Chan pov

Summary: Different Spaces couple finally score a home run

A/N: when I wrote Different Spaces (over a YEAR ago? 💀💀) I fully intended for them to fuck, but apparently, no, they needed three whole drabbles to themselves. anyway, enjoy! Thanks to @amethystwrytes for beta-ing for me!

Different Spaces (1); Scoreboard (2)

* * *

“Please,” you gasped, voice still high and tight, breath caught in snatches. “Please, can we fuck now?”  

And the starting pistol was fired. You moved off the sofa and Chan moved with you, stumbling towards your bedroom, though he didn’t know why. Didn’t know why the sofa wouldn’t suffice, why it was somehow sullied now. Didn’t care. As long as this happened, kept happening, as long as he got to see you and hear you and touch you some more; his desire yawned open in his chest, awake and hungry. Let out of its cage. 

These past months, away from you, Chan had thought was for the best. His confusion and these feelings that he didn’t believe, didn’t understand, he didn’t want to face you with them. Didn’t want to face them at all. Because it wasn’t what you were. You were friends. That was all and he didn’t want to ruin it. Thought that he was sure to, somehow.  

But now it was a tangle of limbs and sticky skin against sticky skin. All sweat and salt and a kind of feverish urgency he hadn’t expected, hadn’t even dreamt of. He had kept his feelings on lock-down, thought they might go away if he didn’t prod at them, didn’t acknowledge them, but he couldn’t ignore them now: now with your mouth on him like that, with your hands roaming his body, as he swallowed your moan down his throat.  

This pent-up desire was free and he was dizzy with it. Tripping over his feet and tumbling to the mattress on top of you; making up for his clumsiness with kisses on every inch of skin his lips could reach. 

And you, asking, begging, again, one more time, still, even when his lips crushed yours and cut off your words; the second you broke free, you were saying it again. Fuck me. And he was going to, was about to, was pushing himself to his knees and then it hit him. 

“Oh shit,” he breathed, sitting back on his heels with a sigh, hands braced on his knees to try to catch his breath. 

“What?” you asked, similarly panting. “What?” 

“Condom?” 

“Fuck!” 

He watched you twist, your legs trapped between his, to scramble at your bedside unit. He watched your hand search and come up empty, drag open the second drawer and repeat its motions.  

“Do you have one?” you asked, head turned away, struggling to get to the bottom drawer without moving off the bed completely. 

“Why would I have one?” Chan asked back in a squawk though he wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt self-conscious, defensive even.  

“I don’t know; don’t guys carry them in their wallets or something?” 

“You’re my friend; wouldn’t it be weird if I came here with a condom?” 

You turned to look at him, then. Sat up, naked, still squared in with his knees either side of you. You looked at him. Blinked. 

“I don't know, dude, you tell me what the fuck we’re doing here, then.” 

And it came out harsh. Chan blanched. Because what were you doing? Were you really asking? Had this ruined it? Because he felt guilty that he didn’t have a condom in his wallet. Like he usually did. Always did, though he couldn’t really have said why. It was the same fucking condom he had in his old wallet that he transferred over to the new one. The same one that he looked at before coming here tonight. That he wouldn’t have thought twice about before—wouldn't have even remembered it were there. But it was you and something was different and something told him that he shouldn’t go to your place with a condom in his wallet as if he expected something. As if something could ever happen between you. It was presumptuous. It was arrogant. It was foolhardy. 

But nothing about the night had gone the way he had expected it to and now... That fucking condom. If only he had it.  

“Sorry, you’re rig-”  

Apologising on reflex, his chin dipping to his chest, because he’d only gone and fucked it up by overthink- 

Then your hand was on his face and your lips on his, your fingers sneaking into your hair.  

“It’s fine,” you murmured. “It’s fine.” 

And he didn’t know if it was, but you kept kissing him all the same, so he kept kissing you back. Was it fine if this was as far as it went tonight? His cock said one thing and his head said another. Maybe it was better this way, he thought. Maybe rushing headlong into sex would be a bad idea. Mayb- 

You pulled away. 

“I’ve got some,” you whispered, your urgency returning as you scrambled off the bed. “One sec.” 

Oh, thank god. He watched you walk away, the fingers of one hand encircling his hot, heavy shaft, unconsciously, automatically, unable to stop himself. Unable to stop his heart racing as he looked down and remembered your own fingers around him. The softness of your skin. The jolt of arousal when you had teased him, like you usually did but also nothing like that. 

You returned before he had time to think more and extracted one shiny packet from a box which you then let fall to the floor. There was something about you that was shy: lips a little pursed, eyes looking away. He knew you well enough to tell that much.  

“Forgot I had these,” you said quietly, still not looking at him as you knelt on the bed and made your way towards him. “Bought them earlier.” 

Chan’s shock made him laugh. 

“In anticipation of this...?” 

“No!” your denial was swift. “No, it wasn’t like that! I wasn’t planning anything! I just-” 

But he didn’t care. Was laughing because it was he all night who had been flustered by this. It was he who kept saying the wrong thing, wrongfooted all the time by the turn the night had taken. He enjoyed it being you. Enjoyed that the dynamic between the two of you didn’t have to be entirely different. You could still tease him. He could still tease you. 

“I didn’t plan this,” you said, performatively sullen, pouting. 

“But you want it, right?” 

You laughed and pushed him back towards the head of the bed, not bothering to answer with words. You made him sit, made him once again cede control of his cock to you; he let your fingers wrap around him, watched as you stroked him slowly, as your wrist twisted. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, just a second, and when he opened them again, you had the condom packet between your teeth, tearing it open with your free hand. It was boring, really—a mundane gesture—but his dick throbbed, a drop of precum leaking from the top as you spat the empty packet away from you. 

“You sure about this?” you asked, with the tip of his sheathed shaft at your entrance. 

He nodded eagerly, barely able to stop himself lifting his hips to push into you himself. Then he stopped nodding, flicked his eyes to you because why were you asking?  

“Aren’t you?” he replied, a swoop of doubt flying through his guts. 

You nodded back. 

“I’m sure.” 

A swoop of relief. 

“I’m sure.” 

And then he placed a hand on your hip and used his other to hold himself steady, so you could sink down on him, slowly, with a long moan stretching to the ceiling. And, truth be known, if he could have, he might have asked for a second, just a second, to get used to it. The feeling of you. All warm and wet and tight and your burning skin so soft, and your lips so sweet and your eyes dark and sparkling like the brightest night sky. And his heart hammering in his chest like time was running out; his blood boiling, reduced to a thick, sticky syrup that he told himself wasn’t love, not exactly, but wasn’t entirely not. Just a second to gather himself not just because you felt so good but because it was you. 

You didn’t give him a second. No sooner than you had lowered than you raised yourself up again; you set an impatient pace, urgent, running towards something at breakneck speed. Chan, too, then was running. Chan, too, was urgent in his kisses, in his praise, in the way your name caught at the back of his throat when he felt your walls squeeze around him.  

He wished he’d had longer to think about it. Because he hadn’t given himself the chance to imagine this, to get used to the idea of it, to think about how good you would feel, how sweet you would taste. He hadn’t had the opportunity to picture you in his head before you were right there in front of his very eyes. Real. More than real. A kind of hyperreal that made him able to smell the sound of you and hear your taste. He could feel every one of your gasps in his chest. He could moan out the taste of your skin. He could smell your hair and it would feel like satin.  

It would’ve been less overwhelming, he thought, if he’d given himself an imaginary dry run-through. He would be doing better if he’d had a second. If he got a second to get himself together, he’d be able to get over the shock of it. He’d be able to get a hold of his senses and- 

You slowed. Sank down on him, as deep as he could get, and took his face between your palms. Took his lips between yours then slipped your tongue between them. Rolled your hips and moaned into his mouth. It was the tiny bite of pain when your teeth sank into his bottom lip that brought him to his senses. Like the tug on his hair before, the little jolt was enough to bring him around and he pulled back, determined once more to make the most of this for you.  

“I wanna move,” he said, mumbling the words against your mouth in a final kiss before you slipped off him.  

The fact that you then knelt, waiting to be told where he wanted you, made his guts clench. He traced his fingers lightly over your face and then pushed at your shoulder, encouraging you onto your back. He slipped his hands beneath your ankles and lifted, your knees bending as your thighs reached your chest. 

“This ok?” he asked. 

You nodded, settling your ankles over his shoulders, then crossing them and using them to pull him towards you. He laughed, because it was just like you, to never let him get the last word, to never quite let him be in control. He laughed because he liked it, in this capacity even more than any other. In the seconds before he sank himself back into your hot, wet cunt, he imagined you testing him, pushing at that boundary because you could, because he’d let you, because he knew that you liked this as much as he did and if tussling for control was the game, he wanted to play. Even if he let you win. 

As he snapped his hips with his hands tight around your calves, as your walls spasmed and clenched around him, as his ears filled with the slick squelch of his cock in your heat, his head felt clearer. Still hyperreal but in a way that made sense. When he tasted the sound of his name on your tongue, it tasted right. When he smelt the brush of your soft skin against his like roses, he knew. All his anxiety about fucking it up, ruining your friendship, everything that he had been hiding from while he was gallivanting about the globe, it was pointless. It was wrong. It was useless noise in his brain. Because he’d always believed he wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worthy of you, wasn’t worthy of getting what he wanted. But there you were, beneath him, every bit what he wanted and more. Every bit his. 

*  

“You know there’s no going back now,” you said, lying on your bed, stretching your arms and legs long, still naked and glistening.  

“What do you mean?” he asked as he returned to join you, condom neatly disposed. 

You turned on your side to snuggle into him, pressed a firm kiss to his lips. 

“This,” you answered. “We’ve had sex now so you can’t turn around to me and say you actually just want to be friends.” 

He laughed. It was preposterous to him that you might think he would be the one to change his mind.  

“I don’t want to be your friend.” 

“Good.” 

Then you piped up again. 

“I never really liked you much anyway.” 

He chuckled, knew it was a joke; knew it because it was followed by a smile that was all syrup, that left a sticky sweetness on his mouth after you kissed him. 

“Fat chance I’ll believe that. Horse is out of the barn, mate; you just said it yourself: you can’t take this back.” 

“Fuck. I guess you’re stuck with me.” 

“I think I can live with that.” 

[coquitokisses]

Heyy! Idk if you ever wrote something like this and if you don’t want to it’s fine but I had been obsessed with this idea of Steve dating a Taylor swift level of famous artist. And like they were keeping their relationship private from everyone until some paparazzi caught them together somewhere and the internet goes crazy with “miss americana and the america's golden boy” (iykyk)

Miss Americana and America's Golden Boy | Steve Rogers

Pairings: Steve Rogers x singer!female reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, fluff and fluff lol

Word count: 568 (kinda short lol)

Summary: Reader and Steve have been dating for a few months now but for obvious reasons, they made the relationship public just yet because of their jobs. But those plans go to hell when some paparazzis get pictures of you and Steve.

A/n: hiii love! First of all, thank you so much for sending this and second, sorry I took so long to answer it, I had no idea how or what to write lmao but I finally took the time to think about something and just do it! I’m still not very convinced, but I think it’s kinda cute so here it is! (hope I was able to bring your idea to life lol <3 )

« The internet goes crazy after seeing pictures of Y/N Y/L/N with none other than Captain America walking out of a cafe! »

« America’s golden boy, Steve Rogers, spotted leaving a coffee shop in New York with the singer Y/N Y/L/N yesterday morning. »

« Captain America is no longer single and neither is our beloved Y/N Y/L/N! Both have been spotted walking out of a coffee shop in New York holding hands! »

“You’re fucking joking.” You stared at your phone shocked, you just wanted to scream

“You need to calm down.” Steve said

“Calm down?!” You turned to look at him “We’re everywhere! Everyone is talking about us!”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Are you aware of this? We’re two very recognized persons, do you know what people are gonna be saying?” You sat on the bed feeling very overwhelmed

Now on every event and everywhere you go the questions that everyone’s gonna be asking are about your relationship with Mr. Captain America.

“You have a lot of fans, they’re just gonna hate me.” You sighed

“Says the girl who’s been in the eye of fame for a decade.” He tilted his head slightly “If they’re gonna hate someone, is probably gonna be me.”

“Are you kidding? You’re America’s hero! Everybody loves you, babe.”

“And you’re one of the most listened and talented artists in the world, people love you too.” He said sitting next to you “And besides, I think it was time to tell the world, everyone at the compound was starting to get suspicious.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little because you knew that it was true, he has told you millions of times how Bucky or Natasha, even Tony, were questioning him about where he was at or why he always sneaked out and came back late at night.

“Yeah, it was probably time.” You looked at him and he just gave you a sweet little smile that made you feel a little better

You really couldn’t believe that you were dating the Captain America, it was absolutely crazy to even think about it. And he also couldn’t believe that he was dating you. One of the most recognized singers in the whole world.

You met at one of Tony’s parties about a year ago and you had such a blast that night that you exchanged numbers and started talking. Obviously you both wanted to keep the relationship private because of your jobs. Of course you were planning on making it public, but just, not now and not like this.

“It’s just that it was nice to have you all to myself.” You say with a shrug

He smiled. “You still have me all to yourself.”

“But now the world knows and it’s not gonna be the same.” You pouted

“Yeah, I know, honey.” He put your hair behind your ear

“Are you sure you still want to date a singer? The fans can be a little crazy about who I date.. sorry about that.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I’m very sure.” He nodded

“Ready to start answering questions about us everywhere you go?”

“Are you?” He cocked an eyebrow at you

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m so ready to brag about being Mr. America’s girlfriend.” You replied and he smiled

“So let’s do this, miss America.” He grabbed your hand and deposited a soft kiss on it

masterlist

[kit-williams]

Once this is all over

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @remembrancer-of-heresy @felinisnoctis

Ferrus removes the metal from his arms.

This is Yan Ferrus and the reader is the one he put in the forever box.

This is also to make up for the noncon fic I had recently wrote with something nicer

The scarring on his arms and hands were going away as it was a long time coming... the Great Crusade was over and he could finally remove the metal from his hands. She had been in recovery for some time as long cyro takes some time to have the body return to normal. But their reunion was what he had hoped for... to feel her hands slowly glide over his arms. Gently touching where there was still a seam in his arms but just one where the metal once was but that did not matter.

What mattered was the sensation of her fingertips gliding along the pale skin. In time it would match the same tan as the rest of him but he could feel the minute way her fingers pulled on the skin of his arms. His face gave no impression of the arousal he was in as his cock was pressed into his thigh throbbing angrily as she babbled but his superhuman mind was focused on her hands touching his naked arms.

Tiny fingers gently press against the veins in his wrist as she is not as talkative as she once was... he knows he is partially to blame as he was selfish and took her but he also knows she is still recovering... but he wants to feel her body now and watch her writhe with pleasure as his hands move over her flushed form just as he did the last time he held her.

Her hands touch his palms again as she once more chirps about the lines in his hand... but he isn't paying attention as he feels his cock jump each time she moves her fingers over his palm, feeling the way she cups his hand. She looks confused for a moment as his ring finger just touches her lips... he doesn't know why he touched but his face heats up and he pants hard as he watches her wrap her mouth around his finger. The way her cheeks hollow and how her tongue moves against the skin.

He bites the inside of his cheek as he needs just a bit more but he's so close. He can spy her eyes looking down at the bulge against his thigh and when again her tiny hands just put pressure against the bulge he cums. He won't apologize... he breathes heavy as he comes down from the high... he wont apologize for anything as his hands cup her face delicately as he can feel her warmth through his hands no metal between them.

"When you recover..."

"Yes Ferrus I'll gladly join you in bed though... I can still join you now."

Hardly a beat passes between them, "I'll have you moved in right away."

[idontliekmondays]

excerpts from a daily mail article released shortly after her arrest

When members of the Geneva High School role playing club asked 16-year-old Lindsay Souvannarath to choose a character they were expecting an elf, a sorceress or perhaps a female warrior.

But the shy, clean-cut teenager opted for a rather more unsettling choice, presenting them with a detailed pencil drawing of her chosen persona - the 'Nightmare Nazi'.

The trench coat, jackboots and gas mask were unmistakably those of an SS soldier; the skeletal hands clutching a vast dagger more akin to dark fantasy art.

Former classmates at Geneva High recall Lindsay Souvannarath as a shy, withdrawn youngster, who had few friends and instead sought out after-school groups and writing clubs to express her creative side.

But she was also prone to bouts of anger and violence - allegedly stabbing another student with a pencil in one outburst and occasionally letting slip an alarming infatuation with the Third Reich.

'On first impressions I didn't think there was anything too strange about her,' he told Daily Mail Online.

'She could be funny and intelligent but most of the time she was quiet and not very warm or outgoing.

'One year her character was a sort of Wonder Woman-type heroine, then all of sudden she tells the group she wants to be a Nazi ghost.

'You choose your species and come up with a back story. Hers was that her character was a guest from a crazy, dark Nazi universe.

'It's supposed to be a game in a medieval, fantasy setting but she would just argue if she didn't get her way.

'So we went on our quest with a robot, a couple of elves, wizards and this weird Nazi.

'Aside from the character's background he didn't do anything racist or too alarming. We didn't know about her interests at that time so we just got on with it.

Ms Szigeti recalled how Souvannarath began to idolize black-death metal bands in her mid-teens.

She became particularly infatuated with Varg Vikernes, a white supremacist musician convicted in 1994 of killing a rival guitarist and burning down three churches in Norway, describing him as 'cute' and writing essays about him.

'Her work was always dark and full of violence, there were soldiers and Nazis and all this weird stuff,' Sabrina said.

'She acted normal on the surface. She was never physically violent but she would get aggressive and upset if you criticized her.

'Everyone was uncomfortable but we just avoided trying to start a fight with her. 'If you asked her straight up 'are you a Nazi?' she would argue that she wasn't.

As far back as 2007 - when she was just 15 - she allegedly wrote 'free speech is dead' in one forum, adding: 'That's why we need people like David Duke to bring it to life again.'

In another warped entry, writing that same year under the pseudonym Snoopyfemme she wrote: 'They use sex in commercials all the time to sell products. Why don't they ever use violence?

'Wouldn't you love to see a bunch of guys tearing each other apart with machine guns to get a bowl of Cheerios?

'Sure, it might traumatize our children, but in my opinion, children aren't being traumatized enough.

'The only reason for Americans to breed is to create more soldiers to fight for freedom. We need to weed out the weaklings early on. Survival of the fittest, man.'

'She was very odd to the point among a lot of our classmates that no-one was surprised by her arrest.

'She was a very lonely person - but she isolated herself. 'From what I remember she was even suspended for stabbing someone with a pencil in middle school.'

'She was known for putting spells on people. She would do it by saying weird things and then putting on a curse - obviously we did not take her seriously.

'She would break out into laughter in the middle of class for absolutely no reason.

'When we saw that Lindsay did something like this, nobody was surprised. She was the one most likely.'

source

[shadowqueenjude]

I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS ELAIN DAY UNTIL NOW SO HERE IS A LITTLE SOMETHING I JUST WROTE:

Smile, Elain. They won’t like you if you’re cold.

Elain blew out a long hard breath through her mouth as their mother’s words came back to her. Moira Archeron had never had much time for her, always busy doting on her eldest. This had left Elain to run into her father’s arms, who had been more than happy to indulge her. Alwyn Archeron had never received much love from his first-born, too pre-occupied with their mother and grandmother as she had been, so Elain seeking parental love in him was a pleasant surprise.

While Elain knew how demanding Moira could be, at least she was invested in Nesta’s success. At least she believed in her, guided her, hoped she would be something. When it came to Elain, her advice was minimal; she mostly stuffed Elain into pretty, suffocating dresses, pulled her hair up tightly into a bun, and hissed at her to smile. Elain very much felt like a prize horse on display.

“Do you think I will marry well, Mama?” Elain had once asked. Moira had merely looked down at her, those eyes- the same eyes as Nesta- frigid as the winter snow. “Of course, Elain. You have a fine face and build, and you have grace. Some man ought to take a fancy to you.” She made a face. “The same cannot be said for your wild sister, I’m afraid.”

Feyre. She had always been the black sheep of the family. She had always been a little too wild, a little too free for their mother’s taste. While Moira put minimal effort for Elain, there was no attention given to Feyre. Elain tried to help her. She would brush her hair and put it into braids and make sure she wore her corset, and when she could, Elain tried to play with her. One time, Elain fell and twisted her ankle while trying to climb a tree with Feyre. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to try and climb in a dress, but she owned no pants unlike Feyre.

Mother had been absolutely furious; though surprisingly not at her, but rather at Feyre for “dragging her into this.” It was as if Moira didn’t view Elain as capable of making her own decisions.

Well, not much has changed, then, Elain thought bitterly to herself.

Graysen had been the only one to see her. He’d told her that her kindness was the most beautiful thing about her, not her face or her body. Elain had fallen hard and fast. It all ended bitterly when Elain was thrown into that cauldron. But now, looking back on it, Elain wondered if she had simply latched onto the first person to see her for more than just a pretty face.

As these thoughts ran through her mind, Elain sighed once more. She hadn’t had much luck here in the Night Court either. They loved Feyre and although they disliked and lacked trust for Nesta, they still respected and valued her more than Elain. They had sicced a couple of wraiths to spy on her like some kind of toddler in need of monitoring. Rather than call them out on it (Elain didn’t see the point in arguing with people who could kill her), she had simply won them over with her charm, turning Nuala and Cerridwen to her side. Although the beginning of their friendship was strange, eventually they became true friends.

But although Elain enjoyed their company, they were not reason enough to stay in this place. She would never have a place here. And much as she had been avoiding him, there was only one person who could get her out of here.

Elain closed her eyes to calm her body. Just being near her mate drew out feelings she wanted to hide away forever. It was cowardly of her, but Elain didn’t want to face it: how very much faerie she was now, how much of her humanness had been lost.

How much he affected her.

He drove her mad simply by being in the same room. She was afraid he could read her every desire on her face, or feel it with his faerie senses. She wondered if he had sensed it the nights when she’d woken up from a very scandalous dream of the two of them together.

A lady mustn’t have these thoughts.

It wasn’t as if Elain was unfamiliar with the marital act. She had performed it, even if it was just once. Graysen had insisted, begging and pleading her, and Elain, convinced they would be married soon and swept up by the romance of it all, had obliged. It was only afterwards that Elain felt dirty, felt wrong, an overwhelming sense of guilt overtaking her. She should not have let Graysen push her into it. It was the first and last time she had raised her voice on him.

“You have taken my purity from me!” Elain had shrieked, beyond hysterical. Tears were heavy down her face, and she knew she had to be red. Graysen, to his credit, looked abashed, but it was all too little too late.

“Elain-“

“I did not enjoy it,” she whispered. Her voice broke. “That was not how I imagined it would be.”

He had been too rough, too impatient, and he had only lasted about a minute or two. Elain knew little about sex, but even she knew that it ought not to be like that.

“You…did not enjoy it?” Graysen asked hesitantly.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?!!!” Elain snarled. “Not the way you have violated me?”

“I did not violate you-“

“YOU INSISTED THAT I DO THIS BEFORE MARRIAGE! I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

Elain had run away, run to the one person who she knew would protect her at all costs, the person who had been more a mother to her than her actual mother.

“Nessie,” Elain had sobbed. Nesta’s sharp blue eyes had widened in concern at Elain’s words. She immediately rushed over to her, grasping her shoulders. “Elain! Are you alright?”

She shook her head, pressing her forehead against Nesta’s shoulder. Nesta wrapped her arm around her, rubbing soothing circles against her back. “Want to talk about it?”

Elain took shuddering breaths, trying to calm herself enough to explain. “Graysen-I-we-“ Another breath. “I let him take my maidenhood.”

Nesta’s other hand moved to stroke Elain’s hair. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Nothing else needed to be said.

That night, Nesta read her stories until Elain’s eyes became heavy and she fell asleep. They slept together on the same bed for the first time since the cottage. Although Elain typically liked her space while sleeping, she had to admit that she had missed this: the closeness, the easy comfort of sisterhood.

And now Nesta wanted nothing to do with her.

Elain clenched her fists. Moira Archeron would be shocked to see it, but she wasn’t alive to scold Elain. Elain had spent far too long being afraid to be angry, for fear of upsetting someone. But she was a sentient being, was she not? Was she not allowed to get angry, same as Feyre and Nesta?

Was she not allowed to feel desire, the same as Feyre with Rhysand or Nesta with Cassian?

When would she be allowed to live?

It was a long shot, but Elain knocked on the door to Lucien’s Velaris residence. He spent little time here, but Elain hoped he would be here this time.

To her relief, the door swung open a few moments later.

“Elain?” The surprise in Lucien’s handsome face quickly molded into something like…was that nervousness? He bowed low to her. “How may I be of service today, m’lady?”

Elain waved him off. “No need to be so formal, Lucien. I just have a request.”

His metal eye whirred as his brown eye studied her intently. “Anything.” And Elain knew he meant it.

“I want to explore the rest of Prythian and the continent.”

If Lucien was surprised at her request, he certainly did not show it. He merely opened the door a little wider, giving her room to enter his home. “Of course,” he replied. “When I leave tomorrow morning, you are welcome to come with me.”

Elain smiled in relief as she looked around his house. It was incredibly tasteful, mostly decorated in the colors orange, green, and blue. It was so much brighter than the interior of Rhysand’s palace, and far prettier too. She delicately settled down on the suede couch on one end of the living room, her heart buzzing with anticipation as she realized she would be leaving this place tomorrow.

@elainweekofficial

[badsugargoodpoison]

american-made | steve rogers

steve rogers × gender neutral reader

≈ 1.2k words • fluff + mild angst

You sustain a significant injury while on a mission. In your woozy state, there are some things you just need Steve to know. OR... You tell Steve exactly what color his eyes are.

warnings: implied violence, injuries (wounded side/stomach), blood and blood loss (though nothing graphic), reader makes it out a-okay but there's fear of death or permanent bodily harm, a little goofiness, unspecified relationship (i wrote it with a "mutual feelings but everyone's too chicken to act on it" scenario in mind, but it can be read platonically or romantically ♡), worried Steve

★ no use of y/n | no mention of body size, skin tone, or hair texture/length ★

A/N: Let me know if I missed something! I actually don't know where this came from, Steve isn't even usually My Guy™️ but... umm... my first lil' fic I've ever published, mayhap? I'm tempted to do a quick part two where romantic feelings are expressed but I kinda wanted to leave this as ambiguous as possible. Feedback is appreciated 😊

“Gonna lay you down,” Steve warns. The curves of his lips flatten into a tight seam as you nod. Then, the world tilts until the gunmetal gray ceiling of the jet stares you in the face.

As if they’re magnetized, your eyelids catch each time you blink. The warmth of the darkness tempts you, but you dutifully choose the daylight every time. After all, five minutes ago, Steve instructed you to keep your eyes open, and you'll be damned if you don't follow his orders—especially since they'd come out as staccato as gunfire.

He's still got his hands on you. One warm palm makes a pillow under your stiff shoulders, but the other, pressed to your waist, feels like the hot end of a poker—like a brand of his fingerprints.

The jet rumbles, and so does his voice, sure and low. You'd give anything to be pressed to his chest tight enough to feel the vibration of his words as they roll through him. Now though, all you can do is stare up at him as he moves back into view.

He's taken off his helmet to reveal a scruffy, sweat-soaked halo of hair. Afternoon light illuminates him in swathes of gold as it flickers in from the cockpit. With the blood on his cheekbone, the gray and brown grime settled into the lines of his face, and the bruise on his jaw, he looks every bit an avenging angel.

Or he would, if his brow wasn't pinched so tight.

Blue blue eyes search your face. They're shiny, so shiny you can almost see yourself reflected in them. They remind you of pool water, and of—

"Denim. Eyes are like denim." You state, weary but certain.

Steve's frown deepens.

"What?"

"I had these... these overalls as a kid—ah." You wince as Steve jostles you slightly, but it's not enough to deter you from your story. You bulldoze right ahead, and Steve's never been more grateful for your stubbornness.

"And I—my parents could never get me out of them. I lived in 'em. Practically. Never wanted to... to put on anything else." You heave in a breath, like a sigh at a story you've told a million times, not an attempt to gather up all your strength to get the words out.

"They got sooo gross at some points." Your emphasis on the words makes you giggle, but it also makes the pain flair in your side. Your hand smacks at Steve's lightly where it presses into your slick skin, and your blood smears against his wrist.

"I used to climb trees in 'em and... get cherry popsicle juice down the front but I'd still—still pick them out of the laundry the next morning." You drift off towards the end with a heavy blink and look off to your side into the abyss of the dull metal box you're flying in. It's obvious to him, as someone who's worn the same look many times, that the faraway glaze of your eyes is the sheen of memory brought to the surface.

To hold you any tighter would be to hurt you—and the tremble of his hands wouldn't allow it anyway—but the lump in his throat whispers that your sudden lapse in train of thought is a precursor to something worse.

"Hey—" he begins to say, and he attempts to unwind his brows so his solemnity doesn't startle you. Your focus snaps back to him with jarring intensity. Unabashedly, you stare. He finds himself stuck in your gaze as you slide your focus from one of his eyes to the other. You blink, once, twice, and then nod to yourself, though it's little more than a jerk of your chin. Steve doesn't have the heart to tell you.

"Anyway.” You pick up right where you left off. "They were denim and like the 'xact color of your eyes."

Steve feels something in his chest expand, at once taut and airy: he's a balloon caught in your tight fist. He smiles down at you as soft as he can. You're not finished yet—he can see it in the part of your lips and the shine of your eyes—and he is intent on listening.

"I was—was looking at your eyes the other day and trying to find the right thing. The thing that they are." Your focus drifts again, gaze wobbly and lashes fluttering to kiss your cheeks, but you gulp another breath.

Steve knows your strength is trickling away, that you've held onto consciousness with slippery tired hands and done it beautifully, but you can't do it forever. He wishes you could. He wishes you could stay conscious till he can get you to the medbay, because if you're not talking he has to bear the silence. No blood-curdling scream could ever compare to the dread of silence.

"Yeah? And what are they?" he asks, nearly whispering, and it seems to do the trick. The prompt coaxes your voice back out, and even though you talk past him, and ignore his question entirely to finish your thought, Steve doesn't have the time or the heart to care. He'll take anything he can get—whatever scrap of your voice you'll give to him right now.

"And now I know. They're my denim overalls." A small, proud smile tilts up your lips as your eyes flutter closed. You try to pat his hand, the one holding your insides where they're supposed to be, but it's barely a twitch.

"Now you know." He agrees, amicably. You're right of course, even if he's never seen the overalls you're talking about. Of course you're right.

The mild bemusement gives way to a frantic hammering in his chest; you haven't opened your eyes again.

"Hey.” He frees his hand from behind your back and tucks it underneath your neck, right at the base of your skull. Some of your own blood smears against your jaw as he thumbs across it.

"Hey, can you open your eyes for me, please? I gotta—gotta find the thing that yours are now, okay?"

You snap back to attention, and Steve's heart leaps when the hand over his grips just a little tighter.

"Steve—Steve I gotta tell you something."

You lose your consonants, mouth clumsy around the words like they're melting on your tongue.

Nat calls his name while you work on getting another sentence out and gives him a nod that he understands. The jet is landing. There's a medical team on standby. You're going to be okay.

"Hey, hey, why don't you tell me all about it when you're all patched up, okay?"

"Okay.” You accept easily, lips turning up again and eyes closing. The floor tilts as you begin to descend, but you're anchored by Steve's ridiculously strong arms and the hip he has pressed to your side. He brackets you to the spot with ease—Steve Rogers: 1, gravity: 0.

“I really like talking t'you,” you slur, and you think, through the daze of blood-loss and dull pain, that Steven Grant Rogers lets out a tiny laugh.

[alexanderwales]

My current worldbuilding project is a superhero thing. I will probably not write anything set in this setting, but I like the worldbuilding of it all, marking down major events, names and places, imagining the people and how they react to what's happening around them.

I'm drawn to kitchen sink settings like a moth to flame, but I've abandoned the idea of having a true kitchen sink, one that actually has everything. Instead, we'll have a kitchen sink that has a little bit of everything, but which does not contain a near-infinity of power sources and concepts.

So there are a single kind of aliens. There are fairies, with their Crocus Court, but they're all of a single breed, or at most three. We have wizards who get their specialties from the same foundational base. There are technologists, who are pushing into the future, and some time travelers who are coming from both the future and the past, and maybe twelve other things. But then that's it. We have a tightly contained kitchen sink, one that sprawls but is very limited, and should probably be described some other way than kitchen sink. Maybe "genre orgy".

I'm still noodling whether this approach will bear fruit. Aside from the kitchen sink being a staple of comic book continuities, part of the aim is to plunge straight at the heart of the overwhelming nature of the information age and to a lesser extent, globalization and multiculturalism.

You see a woman with butterfly wings at the grocery store and you know fuck all about butterfly-winged people and you just sort of roll with it, not actually your business, but there's a part of you that thinks "man, do I need to be learning about butterfly-winged people?" But this sort of thing happens so often that you're just left with a feeling of alienation, and you rarely find any kind of lasting illumination on why there are guys with freeze rays holding up a blood bank, or why everyone suddenly cares a lot about a famous couple that you've never heard of before.

(It's been pointed out to me that I wrote a kitchen sink setting for Worth the Candle, and hopefully this isn't a retread of some kind, but it's mostly just worldbuilding for the sake of worldbuilding, seeing where the seams are, where the best stories sit within it, what the setting might be trying to say to me.)