#i still at the end of the day want my life to be involved in comics in some way. i've accepted i dont know if i'll make it even close to

[writetheidea]

In the Quiet of Us

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. This one was more of a spur-of-the-moment idea, but I hope you still find it enjoyable. As always, I have anonymous ask available for those who would like to express their opinion anonymously.

Pairing:  Lando Norris x named!female character

Plot: Lando Norris learns to navigate his girlfriend's hesitation with physical affection, patiently helping her open up and show love in her own quiet, touch-starved way.

Tag: fluff.

Word count: 1697

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

The girlfriend has a name as I wasn’t able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.

Lando Norris had always been an affectionate person, and anyone close to him would tell you the same. Whether it was a warm hug after a tough day or a playful nudge to break the silence, Lando found comfort in touch. Friends and family alike knew he’d be the first to throw an arm around your shoulders, squeeze your hand for reassurance, or wrap you in a bear hug when you needed it most. For Lando, physical closeness wasn’t just a part of life—it was his language, one he was fluent in and spoke without hesitation.

But when it came to Evie, Lando soon realized that physical affection wasn’t something she was used to. She wasn’t cold or distant—quite the opposite, actually—but there was a quietness to her, a shyness that kept her hands tucked in her lap rather than reaching out. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be close to him; he could see the way her eyes softened when he touched her, how her breath would hitch when he leaned in a little too close. But there was always a hesitation, a space she kept between them.

Their first date had been sweet and simple, a quiet dinner followed by a walk in the park. At one point, he’d offered her his arm, hoping she’d take it. But instead, she’d simply smiled and slipped her hands into her pockets. At the end of the night, as they said goodbye, he leaned in for a kiss. She blushed a deep pink, her hands clutching her purse as though it was the only thing keeping her steady. Her hesitation caught him off guard. He’d pulled back, a soft smile on his face to cover the moment’s awkwardness, but she didn’t move away. It was as though she wanted to be closer but didn’t know how to reach for him.

As the weeks passed, Lando began to notice the small ways Evie responded to his touch. She wouldn’t reach for his hand, but she’d linger if he held it. She wouldn’t initiate a hug, but once he pulled her into his arms, she’d hold on tight, pressing her face into his chest like she was grounding herself in his warmth. If he brushed her cheek with his thumb or let his fingers graze hers, her cheeks would flush, her lips parting in a soft, unsure smile. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be close—it was just that she wasn’t sure how to be.

It stung a little at first. Lando had always been so open with his affection, so ready to give, but he quickly realized that Evie just wasn’t used to it. And as he got to know her, he could see how deeply she cared for him in all the ways that didn’t involve touch. She’d make him laugh until his stomach hurt, stay up late just to talk about their days, remember every small detail he shared with her. He saw kindness in her every action, even in her hesitance. And whenever he held her, no matter how shy she seemed, she never pulled away.

She wasn’t rejecting him; she just wasn’t sure how to express her feelings through touch. But that didn’t stop him from being patient, from offering her the space she needed while still trying to show her how much he cared in his own way.

Then, as the months passed, Lando started noticing something else. A pattern, little signs that showed she was trying to be close in her own quiet ways. She’d poke his shoulder after a joke or hold her hand up for a high-five with a shy smile, only to linger a second too long. These gestures became more frequent—small touches, like a light brush of her fingers over his, the faintest hint of a hand on his arm. It dawned on him, in the sweetest way, that this was Evie’s version of physical affection. A high-five, a gentle nudge, an extra glance over her shoulder as he watched her laugh with his family. Each small touch felt like her way of reaching out, even if it didn’t look like much to anyone else.

And Lando loved it. Every high-five, every poke on his shoulder felt like a step forward, like she was learning how to show what she felt in her own way. He noticed that these gestures would come at the sweetest moments—after they’d had a laugh, or when she was watching him with that soft, shy smile of hers, or during the quiet times when they were just being near each other. He realized that Evie wasn’t distant at all. She was just... a little touch-starved, perhaps too used to holding back.

So he decided he’d help make up for all the love she hadn’t had, all the closeness she never felt she could ask for. He started pulling her close more often, wrapping her in warm hugs, brushing kisses over her temple whenever he could. She’d always hesitate at first, that little spark of nervousness in her eyes, but then she’d melt into his arms as if they were the safest place in the world. And every time, he’d whisper soft words of affirmation, making sure she knew how much he loved her, how happy he was just to hold her.

---

One afternoon, while they were sitting together in silence, Lando reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Evie’s ear. She looked at him, her eyes soft and a little uncertain, and he couldn’t help but smile. He liked the way she looked at him, like she was always just on the verge of saying something but couldn’t quite find the words.

“You’re so cute when you blush,” he teased gently, his fingers brushing over her cheek.

Evie turned pink, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I... I’m not good at this, Lando,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Being close... I’m just not sure how to... I don’t want to mess it up.”

Lando’s heart ached at the sadness in her voice. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “Evie, you don’t have to know how,” he said softly, his voice filled with love. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me love you. Let me hold you.”

She met his gaze, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and slowly, she leaned into his touch, allowing him to pull her close. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, as if he were the only steady thing in her world.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so soft, he almost couldn’t hear it. “For being patient with me.”

“You’re worth every second,” Lando murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He meant it with all of his heart.

---

As time passed, Evie began to open up in small, quiet ways. She started to initiate small gestures, things she’d never done before. She would reach for his hand when they watched a movie, her fingers gently curling around his. She would rest her head on his shoulder, her breath soft against his neck. Each small touch was a quiet declaration of her love, her way of showing him that she was learning how to trust in the closeness they shared.

One morning, as Lando was making breakfast, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind. He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the warmth of her embrace. But then he relaxed, covering her hands with his and smiling as his heart swelled. They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, and for the first time, Lando felt like they had finally found a rhythm together—one that didn’t need words, one that was just about being there for each other.

Each day brought something new—a gentle touch, a small kiss, a hesitant hug. She would press a kiss to his cheek, rest her head on his chest as they lay together, ask him to hold her on days when she felt vulnerable. Every gesture made his heart swell, and he made sure she knew how much he cherished each one. With every forehead kiss, every squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, never a burden.

---

In the quiet moments that followed, Lando never stopped showing Evie how much he loved her. With every soft kiss on her forehead, every gentle squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, one he treasured deeply. And in return, Evie began to understand that love didn’t need to be loud or perfect—it just needed to be there, in every little gesture, in every quiet moment they shared.

One quiet evening, after a long day, they found themselves on the couch, wrapped up in each other and a warm blanket. The TV played softly in the background, but neither of them paid much attention. Evie was nestled against Lando’s side, her fingers tracing slow patterns over his hand, her head resting against his shoulder. He felt her breath even out, and he looked down to find her gaze soft and peaceful, a contented look he was coming to cherish. It was a peaceful silence, one that spoke volumes.

After a while, Evie lifted her head and looked up at him, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Do you think I’ll ever be as good at this as you are?” she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Lando gave her hand a gentle squeeze, smiling at her with a warmth that held no expectation, only love. “You’re already everything I need, Evie,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Just as you are.”

She leaned back against him, her fingers curling around his as she closed her eyes, content. And for the first time, they didn’t need words to feel how much they meant to each other. They had found their own way, and it was perfect.

In that silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew that love could be quiet, soft, and yet, more than enough.

[gluion]

songs queued! — boynextdoor’s ktv experiences with you

wc — 1.9k (~300-350 per member) genre & warnings — fluff, crack, platonic for woonhak, most scenarios will have alcohol involved (except for woonhak’s), songs that they’d sing in the karaoke included (with one opm song per member because i must give respect to my heritage that gifted me my talent) notes — one thing about me is that i do NOT play about ktvs. you will catch me drinking and having the time of my life in one almost every week (it's been a month since i last went. i miss it). if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

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park sungho knows one thing: you and alcohol guarantee a night filled with tears. whether it would be over the worst week you’ve had or out of sheer joy from being surrounded with your friends, it’s a sob fest. the first time you cried to him in your intoxicated state brought him to drop the mic… until he heard you talk about the finale of your favorite series. it’s not that sungho doesn’t take you seriously, but he now knows what to do should you cry again.

✰ sungho never strays away from the microphone, always flipping through the songbook to find another song to queue. if anything, you were the type who seemed to avoid the microphone. yet, sungho never pushed you to sing, so long as you sung along or enjoyed the night.

✰ on the nights the reason behind your tears are serious, he leads you somewhere far from the party, and he’ll stick with you until the end. he won’t force you to talk about anything, only holding a glass of water should you ever need one. he knew these were the only moments you could allow yourself to vent, to be vulnerable, and he would never strip that from you. all he wants is to be there for you.

✰ before you leave the party, sungho checks up on you one last time. he wipes your tear stained cheeks before pulling you into a hug. although your intoxicated mind won’t remember, he tells you to call him the next day. and when morning comes, you’ll see a message from him saying that he’s on the way to your place with a bowl of chinese soup. 

songs queued — no control by one direction — still into you by paramore — replay by shinee — broken clocks by sza — and july by heize, dean & dj friz — chinito by yeng constantino

lee riwoo is all too familiar with your three different stages of intoxication. first, you��ll be in a bubbly mood, struggling to hold back your giggles over the smallest things that shouldn’t be funny. when you’ve had a bit more alcohol in your system, you’ll let loose and get on the dance floor, dragging riwoo along to enjoy the night with you. once you’ve calmed down, you’ll find yourself entering your third stage of intoxication: going nonverbal. riwoo follows the same stages as you.

✰ riwoo enjoys the karaoke with you. he can let loose and sing his heart out, knowing that someone is there to reciprocate the energy. it’s in the karaoke room—or maybe just being with you that he feels most alive. in your shared looks, you always read his mind, and you always came rushing to him with what he needed; another singing buddy, a person to dance with, someone to laugh with, the only one who can just sit in silence with him.

✰ when one of you go nonverbal, the other person makes it an effort to ask if they want to go somewhere far from the party. after all, the noise and lights could be overwhelming. riwoo always comes prepared with water while you always have earphones should the energy be too much. however, when the two of you find yourselves entering the third stage of intoxication, a corner in the room suffices. the only thing important to you two is having each other during these moments.

✰ while everyone goes off in their own, you and riwoo stick together. the way back home is a wordless one, but one filled with actions; hand holding and interlocked arms. the two of you thank the universe for silent moments—so long as you two are together.

songs queued — red wine supernova by chappell roan — shoong by taeyang feat. lisa — smoking out the window by silk sonic — beauty and a beat by justin bieber & nicki minaj — born this way by lady gaga — dadalhin by regine velasquez

myung jaehyun follows one rule when it comes to ktvs and you: act as the designated babysitter, specifically yours. you and alcohol never mix well. despite how many times you tell him that you aren’t going to drink, you can’t hold yourself back around a bottle of liquor. yet, jaehyun knows how much you needed the break. in fact, he’s always been the one person to tell you to stop spending late nights with your back slouched in front of your computer. so for now, he’ll allow you to have this time to let loose—so long as he’s there to take care of you. 

✰ one thing about jaehyun is that he knew how to have fun without the alcohol—that’s how you know he’s the life-of-the-party. somehow, he knew what you needed. someone to sing with? that’s him. someone to hype you up? easiest job for him. someone to take a break with? you didn’t have to ask—he knows. when he sees you taking a seat after you sing your heart out, he rushes to your side. sure, you need some water, but sometimes, you just want someone to lean on. and he always knows.

✰ as everyone starts to bid their farewells, you hold jaehyun’s arm half-asleep. given all the times he took care of you, there would be no question who brings you home. he knows what to do before you fall to your bed; watch out the remnants of the night so that you can enjoy your sleep. after all, he didn’t mind taking care of you. the soft babbling, the sudden giggles, the quiet snores—these happened to be his favorite moments after every night out. 

✰ whenever you wake up, you’d find hangover medicine and water on your bedside table. that was enough to make you smile. 

songs queued — to myself by dpr live — new thing by zico — i need a girl by taeyang — aeao by dynamic duo — pour up by dean & zico — beer by the itchyworms

han taesan knows all the telltale signs that show whenever you’ve had too much to drink. he moves quick, ready to catch you whenever you stumble or snatch a shot from you. as much as taesan could never hold back from your eyes that plead to him, he knows you; a morning with a pounding headache and lack of recollection of last night’s events isn’t one you wanted to deal with. you think he’s not doing you a favor, sulking as he tells you he won’t leave until you finish a glass of water, but you’ll thank him when the morning comes.

✰ some nights, you manage to get away from taesan’s scolding. however, that only brings him to think smarter. at a point of incoherency, you still search for alcohol, whining as you ask them to fill up your shot glass. while you expect it to be filled with vodka, taesan fills it with water without your knowledge. to really sell it, he’ll take a “shot” with you. your intoxicated mind could never tell. (it was always amusing to see you hiss over the “alcohol” going down your throat.) and when you struggled to keep up with the lyrics, taesan would join along and keep you up to pace.

✰ when the night finally comes to an end, taesan never allows himself to watch you go home by yourself. you’re too drunk to take care of yourself, and for his peace of mind, he stays with you until he sees you enter the front door. 

✰ when morning comes, taesan only recaps your foolish actions. while you sit in embarrassment, taesan laughs. (but he’ll never tell you of all the times he made sure you got home safe. he didn’t care how late in the night—or early in the morning—it would be. all he knows is that he’d do it any day.)

songs queued — linger by the cranberries — welcome to the black parade by my chemical romance — 1999 by g2 & gray — mr. brightside by the killers — sk8er boi by avril lavigne — huwag na huwag mong sabihin by kitchie nadal 

kim leehan can’t deny he likes you in your intoxicated state. you’re never this bubbly, clingy, with him unless you’ve got some alcohol in your system. and in this state, you never know how to control your words. shy compliments and secret confessions never fail to leave your mouth. he swears he can hear his heartbeat with every word you say. it starts off with the love songs; you never can stop yourself from singing them. while everyone’s busy singing along, they never spot the glances you take at leehan. he doesn’t know if it’s your poor attempt to look at him discreetly, but he will always lock eyes with you. it’s the heat in your cheeks that are enough to send a message his way.

✰ when you start settling down, you stay with leehan, latching onto his arm and basking in his warmth. leehan accepts your touch, even slinging an arm to hold you close. mumbles tumble out of your mouth. when he can’t understand, he’ll lean closer to you—and the distance is enough to make you lose your train of thought. (leehan can’t help but like your starstruck expression.)

✰ once the party comes to its end, you always sober up in time. you’re back to your laidback persona that everyone knows of. yet, leehan still looks at you like the same intoxicated person who held onto him almost the entire night. although you try to feign ignorance, he knows you all too well. his hand rests on top of your head, allowing you to enjoy briefly in his warmth before you go on your separate ways.

✰ you two never talk about it in the next morning. (but you two think back to it in the late hours of the night.)

songs queued — a thousand miles by vanessa carlton — september by earth, wind, and fire — yeah by usher feat. lil jon & ludacris — so sick by ne-yo — you’re so vain by carly simon — torete by moonstar88 

kim woonhak would never pass on karaoke, especially if you’re coming along. every song becomes a duet with you. not in a way that you’re stealing each other’s spotlight but more to deliver the best performance in the booth. the karaoke booth transforms into anything you two want it to be; a stage, a garage, whatever space fits the song and you two.

✰ whenever you two get tired, you fall into a routine of catching up on anything and everything. somehow, you two can talk about anything in the world; lucid dreams, burning passions, the concept of water and if it’s wet. woonhak likes these conversations. if anything, he’d be happy to just talk, but he likes creating memories with you—living life with you. his youth is filled with you.

✰ while everyone leaves with a goal to rest, you and woonhak can’t seem to think about what’s in store for the next day. the way home is filled with laughter over tonight’s events. somehow, you remind him that there’s more to life than just school or work. there’ll always be space for these silly moments and never-ending conversations with you.

✰ mornings after surprisingly aren’t as noisy like the nights you spend at the ktv. somehow, you two like it slow, and woonhak’s happy enough to spend it with his favorite person. 

songs queued — her by block b — come back home by seo taiji and boys — left & right by seventeen — cat & dog by tomorrow by together — love scenario by ikon — andrew ford medina by andrew e.

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @onedoornet @kstrucknet

boynextdoor permanent tag list: @bndokidoki @0310s @whyilovewhales-pdf

story tag list: @zynz0 @chewnotchoke

[starsreminisce]

LucienWeek2024 Day Three Daylight

Clarity

Word Count: 5000 Rating: T @lucienweekofficial

Summary:

It had been a century since Lucien Vanserra went into exile for the uprising he caused against his father and eldest brother. Now, it's his brother's turn as he extends an invitation to the Day Court Equinox Ball, where his mate, whom he has not seen while in exile, will be.

Read on AO3

It had been a century since Lucien the Usurper launched his coup against High Lord Beron, ending centuries of tyranny.

When the magic of the land bypassed Lucien to crown his older brother, Eris, as the new High Lord, revolts began to stir. Many claimed Eris would be no different from Beron, that the change was only in name. The return of the Seventh Son from exile was supposed to breathe in new life, but doubt crept within their citizens.

Determined to take the seat of power himself, True Lord Lucien challenged his brother to a Blood Duel. Eris won, but in the final moment, chose to show mercy. Instead of killing Lucien the Betrayer, he banished him—to never set foot on Prythian unless he deems it so.

Yet, as the sons of Orla were taught, truth and lies always intertwined.

The coup had taken place, but it was only half-executed. Eris and Rhys were still in the midst of planning how Rhys would fulfill his end of the bargain when Lucien winnowed in, intending to resign. Both older brothers seized the unexpected opportunity. The Blood Duel? Staged. It was no different from the countless duels their father had forced them into as boys.

As for the exile? It was nothing more than a small patch of land—situated between the Autumn, Summer, and Spring Courts—gifted to Lucien by Eris as a token of reward.

Lucien would be remembered in history as the first fae to kill a High Lord and not claim a title. But in truth, he never sought the Lordship for himself. Never wanted it to begin with. Yet none of that mattered to him when he looked back on that day.

No, for Lucien, that day was burned into his memory for an entirely different reason: the day his mate rejected him.

It had been a month since he’d seen her in the streets of Velaris. What he witnessed had gnawed at him, day after day, until the need for answers became unbearable. When he finally confronted her, demanded the truth, she could not speak. Her face turned pale, almost green, as she stood there in silence.

“Lady,” he had said, his voice edged with exhaustion and hurt. “Just… reject it. If you care for me at all, just say it.”

Perhaps he had hoped she would argue, would deny what he had seen, or offer some explanation that might soften the blow. But instead, she closed her eyes. Silent tears traced down her cheeks, and her shoulders shook with the weight of her decision.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if seeking his permission. “Okay.”

Lucien had been angry before, but this was something different—something darker, older, and deadlier taking root within him. Heat rose in him at the thought of Elain rejecting their bond, the connection that had haunted him, that he had hoped would someday mean something. In the back of his mind, a warning flared—he worried, even now, about what he might become if he let this anger consume him.

“A bargain,” he forced himself to say, fighting to keep his voice steady. “You do not see me. You do not seek me. You do not ask about me. I will extend the same to you.”

“Lucien,” she murmured, her tone turning soft, almost conciliatory. “I am still a seer.”

He scoffed. “You haven’t had a vision since Hybern.”

“I cannot accept that bargain,” Elain said, her gaze meeting his, defiant even through her tears. “If you appear in my vision and I can’t see you…”

He stared at her, jaw clenched. “Fine. Unless you receive a vision that specifically involves me, you will have no reason to reach out.”

She chewed her lip, considering, then nodded. “I accept.”

A faint mark appeared on the backs of their hands, sealing the bargain—a mocking reminder that even rejected bonds could leave scars.

With nothing left to say, Lucien turned and left, intent on finding Rhysand to hand in his resignation. His thoughts spiraled between anger and heartbreak, but when he entered the room, he was surprised to find Eris there, pressing Rhys about what he intended to do about the bargain.

The tension in the room spiked as Lucien entered, his bloodlust evident in the fury radiating off him. Both males turned to him, their expressions sharpening.

“I want to resign as emissary for the Night Court,” Lucien said, his voice steady but laced with rage.

Rhys’s shadows flickered, a claw scraping gently at the edge of Lucien’s mind. Lucien didn’t resist, allowing his High Lord to peer into his thoughts, letting him see exactly what he and Elain had done. Rhys’s eyes widened, then narrowed, darkening with understanding.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Rhys purred, a deadly edge to his tone. “Eris has a pesky Beron problem.”

Eris’s expression remained impassive, but there was a glint of something dangerous in his gaze.

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “Give me an opening—and make sure she rejects it.”

“I’ll see to it that she rejects it tonight,” Rhysand promised, his tone laced with deadly intent toward the one who had driven Elain to reject their bond. Lucien met his High Lord’s gaze, understanding the fury there, even as his own heart shattered.

They had mere hours to coordinate. And when the night descended, they would be ready.

The tears they thought he shed that night had been for his father. But they weren’t. They were for Elain.

When the rejection came, it struck like a final, devastating blow. And in the hollow ache left behind, Lucien unleashed everything he’d held back, pouring his heartbreak and fury into a blazing assault upon his father and the Autumn Court. His power tore through the land, searing everything in its path.

That night, as word spread of the Seventh Son’s retribution—of the fire and blood he unleashed upon his father’s court—Lucien’s name became etched into history. No longer remembered as a loyal emissary, but as an unstoppable force of vengeance, a reckoning that could not be tamed.

—

The days were quiet and peaceful, just as Lucien had once hoped. He lived simply now, even in the absence of Jesminda by his side. He closed his eyes, clinging to her name as if it were a lifeline, though her face had slowly eroded from his memory since the bond with Elain had snapped. No, that bond—fragile as it was—remained a flickering flame, one that refused to die. Sometimes, he could feel Elain’s euphoria, especially in the beginning, when she’d chosen a relationship over their bond. And afterward, the wrenching heartache when that relationship ended.

He didn’t know the details, and perhaps it was better that way. He could pretend not to care, but there were moments—when her sadness pressed into him, or her loneliness crept in—that he was tempted to check on her. Instead, he buried himself in his role as laird over the tiny patch of land Eris had given him.

Gone were the days of political maneuvering, double-crossing, and scheming. He might have once thrived in that world, but now, he found he did not miss it. In truth, everything he had ever wanted was here.

Lucien had taken a hands-on approach to his land—helping with farming, overseeing repairs, settling disputes among his tenants. They were glamoured to forget who he was the moment they stepped beyond the borders. He still trained with weapons, but it felt different now—calmer, without the weight of constant conflict.

Eris and Rhys had upheld their end of the bargain for helping to end Beron’s reign, leaving Lucien in his quiet exile.

Not even a year after Beron’s death, his mother, Orla, had shocked everyone by celebrating her mating ceremony with Helion. Lucien had been surprised, to say the least, considering Helion’s deep-seated hatred for Beron—and, by extension, for Lucien himself. The Mother indeed had a sense of humor.

But Lucien didn’t attend the ceremony.

Nor did he attend the birth of his two half-brothers, Kieran and Roshan. Still, he was happy for his mother, relieved that she no longer mourned the two sons he had caused her to lose.

Those who knew the truth of the uprising—Feyre, Cassian, Rhys—visited him occasionally, but the visits became shorter and less frequent as time passed. Lucien had stopped accepting their invitations to visit the Night Court, and he wasn’t sure what else there was to say between them anymore.

As for Vassa and Jurian, they were long gone, their children’s children now ruling in their place.

The one puzzle Lucien couldn’t solve was why his heir markers remained so prevalent. He had hoped they would vanish after he forfeited his claim to any court, but instead, they seemed to grow stronger over time. In the end, he found a glamour to hide them almost permanently, to the point where he almost forgot they existed.

He was content. Or at least, as content as someone with a rejected bond could be.

Until he saw the smokehounds.

The sleek, lean dog-like creatures lingered near his house one evening as Lucien returned from the fields. There was no mistaking who owns them—Eris. Lucien gritted his teeth but played the host regardless, inviting his brother to dine with his tenants, who gawked that the benevolent High Lord was joining them. The evening stretched on, filled with the bard’s music and the low hum of conversation, until the candles burned low and the shadows thickened. Finally, Eris turned to him with a smile, his eyes gleaming with something Lucien couldn’t quite read.

“The Day Court is hosting the Equinox Ball,” Eris announced, his tone casual, almost too casual. “Mother would like you to attend.”

Lucien raised a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Not sure I can still be considered ‘exiled’ if I show up at a ball. I’m supposed to be on the continent, remember?”

Eris waved a dismissive hand. “Helion can grant you access as his guest—or, if it’s easier, I could always revoke your exile.”

Lucien narrowed his eyes, watching his brother closely. A century had passed since he had last set foot in any court, but even after all that time, he could still sense when Eris was hiding something.

Eris caught the look and sighed. “You left the courts. There isn’t anything I can tell you that matters anymore.”

“Then why is it so important that I’m there?” Lucien asked, his voice sharp. “I see Mother often enough, and quite frankly, the sight of her with Helion is... disturbing.”

He shuddered for emphasis, but Eris merely smirked.

“It’s nice, seeing Mother finally in love,” Eris replied, his voice softening, eyes distant, as if lost in some wistful memory.

Lucien held his tongue. Of course Eris would remember their mother’s brighter days—when she was full of light and laughter. Lucien, though, had only seen her at her lowest: withdrawn, broken. His only memories were the late nights when she would creep into his room, hugging him tightly, her tears soaking his forehead after days of ignoring him.

“I suppose,” Lucien finally muttered, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

A silence stretched between them. Finally, Eris rose from his seat and reached into his coat. He pulled out a small envelope, sealed with the Day Court’s bright insignia, and extended it to Lucien.

Lucien hesitated before reaching for the invitation, his fingers brushing against the crisp paper. But the moment he touched it, a subtle shift rippled through him—a familiar, long-forgotten sensation. His eyes darted to the back of his hand, and his heart skipped a beat.

The mark. The faint mark that had once bound him to Elain, a constant reminder of their rejected bond and the bargain they had made—gone.

The realization hit him like a wave. The bargain had ended.

Elain could now speak to him.

For the first time in decades, Lucien felt something stir deep inside him, something restless and unresolved. He glanced up at Eris, who wore the same unreadable smile, as if he had known this would happen all along.

“I’ll think about it,” Lucien said quietly, his voice steady, though his mind was anything but.

—

Even though Lucien arrived fashionably late as he could, he could still feel the weight of their stares and the hushed whispers that trailed behind him. The Usurper. The High Lord Killer. The labels clung to him, but none of it compared to the sharp jolt in his chest when his gaze swept across the grand ballroom. Beneath the twinkling fae lanterns and a ceiling draped in purple wisteria, amidst the glittering partygoers in their silks and brocades, he spotted her instantly.

Elain, standing with her sisters.

She always looked radiant in amethyst. Tonight, the rhinestone-heavy bodice of her gown sparkled under the warm glow of the lanterns. The sweetheart neckline framed her delicate collarbones, and the dress cinched tightly at her waist before cascading into an elegant A-line. Her hair was pinned up, dotted with pearls that glistened like stars.

He hadn’t seen her in a century, he realized. The last time they spoke, she had cried then.

But now—she was smiling, a breathtaking sight that twisted in his chest. Lucien forced himself to turn away, not wanting the familiar ache of longing to show on his face. He hadn’t come here to be reminded of what he could never have. He only meant to make an appearance, speak to his mother, have two drinks and leave. Already, the walls of the ballroom felt too close, the urge to disappear back to his quiet life called to him.

He stalked towards his mother and Helion, weaving his way through the crowd. The two of them were too preoccupied with their smoldering looks to notice him at first. Lucien cleared his throat. Helion still regarded him with that cool, aloof expression. 

Don’t worry, daddy, Lucien thought bitterly, I’m not here to kill you.

But his mother, Orla, lit up when she saw him, immediately pulling him into a doting embrace, her lips pressing against his cheeks.

“Darling,” she cooed, her tone warm and affectionate. “You made it! Are you planning to stay here for the night?”

“No, Mother,” Lucien replied. “I wish I could stay, but I’ve got repairs to handle back in my land. The last storm knocked out half the fence, and if I don’t fix it soon, the livestock will be running wild.”

Orla pouted. “But we so rarely get to see you.”

Helion’s voice cut in, sharp and commanding, exactly like Rhys when someone displeased Feyre. “Your mother would like you to stay.”

Lucien met Helion’s gaze evenly, resisting the urge to snap back. A retort burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it, forcing his face into a sarcastic smile. “We’ll see.”

Helion mimicked his smile, but colder. “See to it.”

Lucien, not one to let the jab pass, raised an eyebrow and asked, “Has Kieran or Roshan shown any heir markers yet?”

The question landed as intended. Helion gave a curt response. “No.”

Lucien’s smirk widened. The insult was subtle but sharp—a reminder that, despite Helion’s status, the magic of their court had not deemed his children worthy to lead. But it was Orla who delivered the next blow.

“Elain wouldn’t mind if you stayed,” Orla remarked offhandedly, as though she were discussing the weather. “She’s been such a wonderful courtier for the Day Court.”

Lucien’s smile dropped, his face stiffening into a frown. “Why.”

“She needed some time away from the Night Court after… well, after everything,” Orla explained, her gaze flitting around the room. “Poor thing. Rhysand and Feyre thought a change of scenery might do her good, so I offered to take her in.”

Lucien’s lips pressed into a tight line. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Elain being so close to his family in the decades he had been apart. He tried to remind himself that his mother had gained something of a daughter after losing another son. Still, the idea of Elain sharing this space with them—of her integrating so seamlessly into the Day Court—prickled at him.

“Let’s see how the night goes,” Lucien replied reluctantly, the urge to find something to relieve him of this conversation.

He turned away, eager to put distance between himself and the interaction. But as he moved through the crowd, he could feel the bond tugging. He glanced over his shoulder, and his heart stopped when his eyes met Elain again.

Her gaze locked onto his, wide and unblinking, as if she’d been watching him. The lively chatter around them muted, the music fading into the background. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Something unreadable flickered in her countenance—surprise, guilt, or perhaps something more.

Lucien’s chest tightened. He couldn’t tell if she’d been waiting for him to notice, or if she, too, was startled by their shared glance. But the weight of it settled deep, cutting through the air between them like a taut string waiting to snap.

He broke the spell and strode toward the bar, ordering the specialty without much thought, the thrum of tension still lingering in his veins. His eyes roamed the room as he waited, scanning what had changed since he’d left. The Night Court kept to their tight-knit circle, as usual, but now with two new females among them. He could feel their gazes shift to him.

They’ll find me eventually, he mused, if I decide to stay long.

Something else caught his attention this time. Each member of the circle seemed tethered by a golden thread—mating bonds, he realized. This time, his attention was drawn to something else. The detail made him furrow his brows, leaving him to ponder how and when it happened.

Lucien’s jaw clenched, and his gaze slid to Elain. She was across the room, a vision as she floated through the courtiers, laughing with Nuan of all people, as if she’d known her her entire life. She sparked the damned longing within him, but before he could get sucked into that vortex—

A shift in the air.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. His mechanical eye whirred, the lens automatically adjusting, recalibrating as it scanned the room for danger. Everything appeared normal. No one else seemed to notice. Yet Lucien knew better —he felt it, deep in his gut from instincts honed from hunting.

He glanced up.

His eye zeroed in on the ceiling. Something off. His eye broke through the marble surface, seeing beyond it—into something more sinister.

And then the ceiling gave way.

A thunderous crack, huge pieces of stone plummeting toward the floor, but by the time they began to fall, Lucien had already moved. His body reacted before his mind could, and in the course of a moment, he was across the room. His arms wrapped tightly around Elain, pulling her tightly against his chest. His eyes screwed shut in protection against the dust and debris.

“Lucien,” Elain said, her soft voice close that it tickled his ear.

He opened his eyes—and blinked in disbelief. Golden light surrounded them, a shimmering sphere holding the falling debris at bay. A shield of daylight, radiant and warm, encased them in safety. His glamour dissolved, his skin now glowing with a pearlescent bronze sheen, and molten red hair cascaded over his shoulders. Inside him, a core of heat burned brighter, brighter than it had ever felt before, protecting the one thing that was ever his.

“Are you alright?” he asked, still holding her close.

Elain nodded, but her wide eyes remained fixed on him, her breath catching as she took in the soft glow of the golden light that surrounded them.

“An attack!” someone shouted, but Lucien’s focus stayed locked on the glowing shield. Through the sphere, he saw them—thousands of bird-like shadows, clawing at the edges, desperate to break through.

He didn’t want to let Elain go. His instincts screamed that it wasn’t safe. But the way she held him back—the way her eyes searched his face as if seeing him for the first time—made him hesitate. She wasn’t afraid of him. Her gaze was filled with wonder.

The shield expanded, stretching outward with Lucien’s will until it touched the crumbling ceiling. And then, with a soft pop, the bubble dissolved, transforming into tiny golden flames that licked through the air, disintegrating the debris and creatures in an instant as golden dust fell.

Elain whispered. “So it is you.”

“What?” Lucien asked, still disoriented.

“You are the Day Court heir.”

Lucien’s stomach churned as reality crashed down around him. His heart pounded in his chest, louder than the stunned silence that had settled over the ballroom. He tore his gaze from Elain and looked around.

The entire room had frozen. Every fae in attendance—guests, courtiers, High Lords and their partners alike—stared at him.

At him.

No. His mind raced, grasping at something, anything, to make sense of this. This couldn’t be happening.

Eris was the heir. Lucien was of Autumn Court. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—be the Day Court heir. Because if he was, that would mean…

His breath hitched. That would mean Beron wasn’t his father.

Before Lucien could fully process the thought, Helion stepped forward, his eyes wide with shock and begrudging recognition.

“The Day Court heir has been found,” Helion’s voice boomed with command. His gaze flicked between Orla and Lucien. “Lucien Vanserra is the Day Court heir.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but Lucien barely heard it. His heart stuttered. His world tilted. Oh, fuck.

Helion had just legitimized him.

The weight of what that meant pressed down on him, suffocating. Panic clawed at his chest, each new realization crashing into him. The responsibilities. The title. The Court. The political alliances he’d left behind. His place beside Helion—no, at the head of the Day Court.

And Elain.

The closeness to her that would come with this new role. The proximity he could no longer ignore, no matter how hard he had tried.

His mind spiraled, and in that moment of pure panic, he did the dumbest thing possible.

He released Elain and spun around, only to find himself trapped—shimmering wards pulsed around him, thrumming with Helion’s magic, a cage of blazing power.

A rush of heat exploded from him, brilliant and blinding, tearing through the wards and spells encasing the room. It was Helion’s power, but fiercer, sharper, channeled with raw, unrestrained force through Lucien. And then, before anyone could react, he winnowed, disappearing in a blaze of light and heat.

But when he landed—back on the edge of his quiet farm—something was wrong.

He felt her before he saw her, the warmth of her body pressed against his back. Her arms clung tightly around his waist, her breath shallow between his shoulder blades.

She hadn’t let go.

Lucien’s heart stuttered as truth set in. He had let her go. He’d tried to leave her behind. But she—she hadn’t released him. She had chosen to hold on, even as his world fell apart around them.

He stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing to process what had just happened. The rows of crops lay stretched out beneath the moonlit sky, his patch of land quiet and serene—a meager fraction to the truth he had just uncovered about his birthright.

“Lady…” he whispered hoarsely, half-questioning, half-apologizing.

Slowly, she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “You are very hard to find,” she whispered, her grip still firm. “Had to find a way to get you to come.”

His throat constricted as he stared at her, the weight of her words-and all those words implied-settling between them like a loaded question.

He had winnowed to escape.

Yet she had held on.

—

“So you knew?” Lucien’s voice emerged sharper than he intended.

He wasn’t used to his patience being tested like this—especially not by her. Yet here she was, wandering around his property, deliberately ignoring his pointed offers to take her back. It annoyed him. He followed her as she headed toward the house, her gaze wandering over everything, taking in small details of the life he’d built in exile.

She wheeled abruptly on him, her wrist flicking so the back of her hand flashed in his direction. “I was wondering when you’d finally ask around about this.”

Lucien pressed his tongue against his cheek. He refused to rise to the bait.

“You really didn’t notice,” Elain sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Lucien didn’t say a word, but his silence spoke volumes. Of course, he had noticed—the mark gone—when the invitation had arrived… a day or two ago.…

“So much has passed in a hundred years,” Elain whispered, her arms wrapping tightly around herself.

It was then that he felt it: their bond flickered. No longer as dull, not as hushed as it had been for so long. His heart was hammering in his chest, and she turned pink as her eyes darted away from him.

It was too much—too much to process all at once, with everything else hanging over his head. The responsibilities of an heir weighed upon him like a boulder, and the events of the night were catching up, threatening to crush him.

“I’m going to bed,” Lucien said shortly, the tone a full stop. “If you wish to stay, there’s a spare bedroom upstairs on the left. If not, you’ll find sheets on my desk to send a message. Good night.”

He turned on his heel, ready to leave her standing there, but her voice stopped him cold.

“We ruled the Day Court.”

Lucien froze. Slowly, he turned back to face her. “We?”

Elain shut her eyes a moment, as though steeling herself. When she opened them again, her voice was firm, but low. “You and me. That was the vision.”

Lucien’s snort was harsh, filled with skepticism. “What, as separate rulers or—”

“No.” Her voice cut him off, sharper now, her patience visibly thinning. “Not separate. And that doesn’t explain…” She hesitated, her cheeks flushing as she looked away, clearly struggling to find the right words.

“Explain what, lady?” he demanded, his tone clipped, irritation simmering beneath the surface.

She pressed her lips together, her eyes flicking away, looking both frustrated and mortified. Lucien raised an eyebrow, watching her struggle, his own annoyance flaring. He’d had enough of vague half-answers and the way she seemed to dance around the truth.

She took a breath, forcing herself to continue. “It doesn’t explain… the amount of sex we had in that vision. Or the children… who looked like you and me.”

Lucien stilled, his eyes blinking as the meaning of her words registered. He stared, and then a laugh escaped him—deep and disbelieving. He snorted, his head shaking, as laughter bubbled up from his chest.

But Elain wasn’t laughing. She didn’t look at him, her face red as her lips pursed into a thin line. And that was when it hit him—she wasn’t joking.

“You rejected it, remember?” His tone was bitter and confused. “You rejected the bond, my lady.”

There was a flash of anger in Elain’s eyes, no longer the timid female he remembered. She scowled at him as she shot back, “As Orla did with Helion when you were born.”

Lucien blinked, momentarily stunned by the comparison. Elain stood taller, her shoulders squared, no longer shrinking under his gaze. The fierceness in Elain’s eyes caught him off guard—a spark of shock mixed with something raw, something he couldn’t quite grasp.

It reminded him, just for a moment, of Jesminda—alive and bright in her defiance, a fading memory that still lingered painfully close to the surface.

His mother. Mated to Helion. Long before Lucien killed Beron.

Elain. Looking like Jesminda. Long after she was gone.

He took a steadying breath, forcing himself to set those revelations aside—things to confront later, with the people who held the answers. But what did any of that mean for him and Elain?

“So, what?” Lucien demanded, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. “You had a vision, and that’s why you’re here now? That’s what changed your mind about giving this—” he gestured between them, “—a shot?”

“No,” Elain said softly, the sharpness yielding to something much softer as she looked down, exhaling heavily. “No. The vision happened after.”

“After what?” he pressed hotly.

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, as if trying to shield herself from his words, her gaze dropping to the ground. It was her posture—the way she seemed to shrink into herself—that cut through his frustration, softening his resolve. And then the weight of her silence settled between them like a chasm.

Unable to hold back, he did the unthinkable: he took a step closer, closing the distance until there was barely any space left between them.

“After what?” he coaxed gently, his voice low, trying to draw her out.

Elain’s eyes flickered up, meeting his. Her face was raw, unguarded, and she swallowed hard before she spoke. “After I fell in love with the Day Court.” Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with a vulnerability he hadn’t expected. “Until I realized… how much I saw you in it.”

Lucien stared, the words clawing through the walls he’d built around his heart. For a very long moment, he said nothing. There was nothing to say. The truth hovered between them, weak and throbbing.

And for the first time in a hundred years, he couldn’t look away from the bond between them—the hum of it, a pulse stronger than it had ever been.

[fohatic]

don't mind if i do.....

there are still beautiful things by @meidui

The day Tony takes Steve home from the New York Army National Guard is the best day of his life.

the hope that kills you (series) by @meidui

Steve used to go on so much about freedom and choice. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Some of the freedom he loved was big, big enough for him to lay his life down for over and over, and some of the freedom he loved was small, like the wind in his hair when he took his motorcycle out, but now he has to sob and take it when Tony sucks a deep flowering bruise where his prison uniform couldn’t possibly cover and whispers in his ear, “Who’s gonna help you now? Where are you gonna run?”

The Prize by @sabrecmc (HOWWWW IS THIS NOT ON ANY OF THESE LISTS YET)

Steve ends up as a concubine in the royal harem.

Deep End by @festiveferret

SHIELD has found a way to make Project Rebirth work - something Tony's father was never able to accomplish. An unexpected side effect has Fury begging Tony for some rather unusual help: the painful procedure has put their volunteer, a sub called Steve Rogers, so deep into subspace he can't come up on his own.

Tits Aren't Just For Ladies by Dr_Amuly ( @everybodyilovedies)

Tony fucks Steve's tits (man-tits, no genderswap or implants or anything).

(Not for) Public Consumption by Poose

“Can’t you like, I don’t know, do a little pirouette for me, sweetheart?” He shuffles backwards cautiously, glancing over his shoulder to avoid hitting the wall. There’s a chair back there, he should sit in it before his legs give out. Steve cocks his head, hand on his hip. He puts his front foot at angle to the one in back and executes a tired swing around. You’d think he’d like the attention a bit more. Tony may have to goad it out of him. “Steve, seriously, you’re like a bored stripper.” And then, suitably affronted, Steve takes another turn, more slowly, so that Tony can pan down and zoom in on his ass from a slightly lower angle.   *** Or, Steve and Tony make a sex tape. Exactly as sophisticated as it sounds. A non-powered AU of another AU that I haven't written yet. Contains zero plot.

Surrender Yourself by xWinterDreamsx

Tony has Steve tied up in ropes for some kinky fun.

Some Great Reward by @kiyaar

After the events of Captain America: Civil War, Tony and Steve come to an agreement. It doesn't involve affection.

Come on Closer by @epiphanyx7

[[... porn.]] Or, the one where Steve wants to talk to Tony about something important.

Leave Your Marks Written Upon My Skin by blue_jack ( @some-blue-jack)

“I want you to keep your hands right here, alright?”

Keep Us Warm, Tonight by @copper-mouth

Steve and Tony often keep late hours together when sleep won't come to either of them. Tonight is shaping up to go a little differently, however.

Working Late by @tinystark616

Some nights, Tony stays up late, building and rebuilding and upgrading his suits, until Steve walks into the workshop, usually already in his pajamas, and wraps his arms around Tony, kissing him until he forgets what he was doing and then dragging him to bed. A fill for the prompt "Steve sits in Tony's lap and rides him" from last year's Community Gifts prompt list. Because there's really not enough bottom!Steve in the world.

Ship to Shore by @mserm

The Avengers beat Thanos. Everyone is safe. (If you don’t count those five days they thought Natasha was dead.) All that’s left is to return the stones, a feat that Tony is sure will end his new friends-with-benefits relationship with Steve.

Consecration of the Virgin by @dracusfyre (sequel to The Penitent Man)

Steve gives his body into Tony's keeping. For the good of his soul, of course.

In The Springtime of His Voodoo by shaenie

“I’m removing Captain Rogers from this base, but not from active duty. I want him as SHIELD’s liaison to Stark Industries first and foremost. He’ll report directly to me,” Fury says. “As it is, your identity as Captain America is not public knowledge and it will remain that way until I say otherwise. That said, if you think you can get Tony Stark to work with you if you disclose that information, you have permission to do so.”

heyyy！i just saw u reblog an ask and it just happened to be the exact same thing I wanted to ask👉👈 do u have and recommend stony fics that are top Tony/bottom Steve 🥺

you know i do!! see also k's rec list and bulky's rec list, i tried not to rec any that were already on their lists <3

Jackpot by @elcorhamletlive

It’s not always like this.

Tony leans back on the bed, assessing his view. Near the door, balanced on his knees, Steve stares at him with half-lidded eyes, blue eyes darkened under those beautiful eyelashes. His blonde bangs stick a little to his forehead, where a glimmer of sweat is evidence of how long he’s been in that position: knees firmly planted on the rug of Tony’s bedroom, naked aside from a pair of cotton black briefs, hands tied up behind his back, exactly as Tony left him this morning. He breathes heavily, his muscular chest going up and down as he watches and waits.

Doubling Up (Steve) by @elcorhamletlive

“Well,” Tony drawls, his gaze going from the bed to where Steve, and, uh, Tony are standing, next to the small pile where Steve’s shirt lies along with his trousers. “This is awkward.”

Chamber of Reflection by @thahiree

A few years after retiring, Steve and Tony get a surprise visit from another Steve. Steve Rogers from Earth 1610 is lost, grappling with the new century he’s been unceremoniously dropped in, with confusing feelings for his new teammate, with himself.

Steve and Tony decide to get involved.

A Proportional Response by @mserm

Steve doesn't have a reason for cock-blocking Tony.

No reason, whatsoever.

It's Hard To Look Right At You, Baby by Albuss

“Woah,” Tony says, “slow down. Take it easy. Hold your horses.” He can be forgiven for saying the same thing four times because he is already completely, utterly wrecked.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Five Times Steve Woke Up Early (And One Time He Didn’t) by @airlocksandaviaries

Steve's not actually a morning person, despite his body's insistence. It's quite possibly the one thing about the serum he's not immensely grateful for. Forcing himself up and on a run to burn through the overwhelming, restless energy that builds bright and early would be much more tolerable if it were a few hours later. Tony decides to do something about this.

Underneath it All by @hollyandvice

Steve's finally ready to indulge Tony's fantasy of seeing him in a thong. He just has terrible timing when it comes to implementing sexy times. But that's alright, Tony's a master of making the best of a (not actually) bad situation.

the year you were mine by @areiton

The night that changes his life forever, Steve is on a date with another man.

Or: Steve is a pricy escort and Tony buys him for a year. Neither of them are doing this for love.

a thousand things you call me by @areiton

He calls you a thousand things, and you love them all, count them all and guard them close, because with each he calls you mine.

Your Reputation Precedes You by @vanilla-shoes

Tony agrees to watch the desk for the salon next door to his garage as a favor -- but when he meets the salon owner's fiery best friend Steve, maybe the favor is for Tony after all...

Brooklyn After Dark by darefanny

”I could do that”, Steve had said before his brain could catch up to his big, stupid mouth. He had leaned over Tony’s shoulder to look closer at a photo of a man in lingerie on his tablet.

Slow Burn Fireworks by felisnocturna

Tony fucks him incredibly slowly this time.

praise you like I should by @firebrands

steve gets de-serumed for a hot second, but tony's pretty quick to reassure him of all his lovely traits. (made even better by having to sleep in a shitty motel with a mirror on the bed.)

Suds 'n Studs by @fohatic

Tony didn't mean to hire some super hot, young guy to take his clothes off for money -- honestly! He just wanted somebody to wash his cars! But accidents happen when you let your AI do the hiring for you, apparently. Now the recent divorcee has an awkward apology to make. He also has as an invitation to subscribe to Steve's OnlyFans. What he doesn't have is any clue what he should do in this situation.

In Too Deep by @fohatic

Steve knew that he was asking for trouble when he agreed to let the gallery auction off a date with him for charity, but he needed to get in the director's good books if he wanted to make it as an artist in this cutthroat town. He never imagined that his participation would ignite an outrageous bidding war, or that the infamous, billionaire ex that he hadn't seen since their sudden breakup two years prior would show up and stake his claim.

the thorn in his side by @fohatic

It had been there from the beginning. There was no end to it, that mutual wanting between them—forever unresolved—that had grown so terribly soft and unbearably romantic with age...

But there was an unspoken rule between them, as well: an understanding that they could never act on it.

That is, until an alien parasite's brood nest gets violently dislodged from its Chitauri Leviathan host during the Battle of New York, dispersing its contents directly over two time-jumping tourists who are very much in the wrong place and the wrong timeline.

pull me down by breakeven

He doesn’t mean to pull, is just brushing through the locks there as a means of comfort, to show Steve that he’s still there and present with him, that Tony is just as affected by the wet grasp of Steve’s hole as Steve is by the insistent pressure against his prostate

wind me up by breakeven

Steve hadn’t known it, but apparently Tony could tell after the first time they ever fucked. He could see in Steve the need to please, the need to be of some sort of service, and had known that it would translate perfectly in sexual desires, even when Steve hadn’t had a clue himself.

honey from your hive by meidui

"Steve, stop that," Tony says, sounding strangled as his grip tightens and Steve stops, letting Tony grab his face and tilt him up. "You're kind of scaring the crap out of me. What is it? What's going on with you?"

"We blew up the lab," Steve manages, and something dawns on Tony's face. "Everyone had a reaction 'cept me. Think 'm having it now."

Blushes Per Hour by @blossomsinthemist

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “Well, no,” he said. “Um, but.” He was breathing heavily now, through his nose. “Rachel liked it when I did it, because she has, uh, she has sensitive breasts, and I, um, err. Sometimes I’d pull on my own nipples during, or, or after, on my own, and. And I’d imagine—wonder, really, if I was. If I had enough, or—”

“Are you saying you’ve fantasized about this?” Tony said, and he couldn’t help the pure delight that came through in his tone, because had he actually stumbled onto one of Steve’s kinks, here? He’d never let on at all before, not at all.

Please Please Me by @blossomsinthemist

Steve looked so beautiful flushed and wanting, on his knees, begging.

Failing To Not Fall by @nvrthlessthsun

Steve was failing to not fall in love with Tony Stark.

AKA the one where Steve thinks he's Friends-With-Benefits with Tony, and Tony thinks he's dating Steve.

Paint Job by @valdomarx

“You want me to what?” Steve looked incredulous. “I want you to detail my car,” Tony said with a smirk.

Relax, Darling by @valdomarx

Steve is stressed and tense after a hard mission.

Luckily for him, Tony and his tongue are available to relax him in a variety of delightful ways.

Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd, Four’s a Party by @valdomarx

How to satisfy the secret desires of a horny supersolider:

Ults Steve gets gangbaged by Tony from four different universes (Ults, MCU, AA and 616).

Mark Sixty-Nine by @everybodyilovedies

Tony is irritated that Steve's first hug-and-fly wasn't with him. As the source of many of Steve's other "firsts", Tony has a brilliant idea of how he could take one more. Specifically, Steve's first time being fucked by a machine.

Afternoon Delight by @greyduckgreygoose

Tony watched with narrowed eyes as Rogers nodded politely to Natasha. They exchanged quick, familiar smiles, which suggested that they knew each other better than the acquaintances they seemed to want Tony to think they were. Up close, Rogers was even more attractive than he had appeared on camera, a touch of blonde stubble along his jaw, large square hands.

He also had a nice ass, not that Tony was particularly staring.

“Mr. Stark,” Natasha said, as they both stood before Tony’s desk. “May I introduce Steve Rogers? Or, if you prefer, Captain America.”

The Sixth Time is the Charm by @onemuseleft

The fifth time Steve tried to get Tony to fuck him (and failed) is when he started taking it personally.

Your Kind of Love by blue_jack

The first time they have sex, Tony isn’t really hoping for much.

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[my-thirteenth-reason]

kicking my feet and giggling (<- just got apologised to)

[complicit-rot]

i haven't been this social & talkative in Years someone drag me out back

[yongseungkim]

.

[arolesbianism]

If I ever do get properly into dst character modding I like have to make an oni character mod at some point, but the issue is Id want it to be an Olivia mod so bad but also Nails is as far as I'm aware the only legal character name wise and as such it feels like it has to be them, y'know for the bit. But also I have already written too much Olivia dst dialogue and I need an excuse to use it damnit

[thedevotionaltour]

the desire to quit comics and give up on creating art forever before i've even started my career vs the travis moore answer to my ask in his inbox when he still had a tumblr when i was in high school telling me it was both the most difficult and fulfilling work he ever took on and i should pursue it if i want to and the guy who bought the first ever mini comic i sold this year at my first ever con i tabled asking me to sign it. sniffle sob

[sistertotheknowitall]

Masterpost

“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

Part one

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[prael]

STEPS

Newjeans Hanni smut (M reader) - the title is a hint to the TW.

6.6k words

Masterlist donations/commissions

It didn't happen through a cliché.

Well, maybe it did, but not one of those where she's stuck head-first into some kitchen appliance or something of that ilk, though you would say this really did happen by accident.

What? She tripped, fell, landed on your dick?

Not quite like that, but the point still stands. You didn't begin that day, or even that evening, intending to fuck your step-sister, but, well…

"My apartment. My TV. My choice," you told her, as you have so many times before.

"But this film is supposed to be the best. It's got great reviews. Dani loved it..." Hanni was talking far too fast to even really pay attention. She soon started reeling off a cast list and everyone involved, and how this review called it a revelation to the genre, but you had long since started ignoring her. You know how she gets. Excitable beyond the point that someone normally would be. It's an endearing trait, if not also annoying. The rundown of her reasons was cut short as she threw her body at you in attack.

"Hanni! What are you—"

"Just gimme the controller already!" She shouted right into your ear as she threw her arms over your shoulders. You held it out in front of you, keeping her behind your back so her arms couldn't reach; not that it stopped her from trying. "Just one time. Please? Pretty pretty please?"

You climbed up from the sofa. Hanni clung to your back like a young panda, with her legs locked tight around your waist and her arms still fumbling around. You grabbed her by the ankle, trying to pry it away so you could drop her, or something, anything other than letting her continue. "Alright fine. Just let go, you idiot. You’re going to tear my arm off."

She loosened her hold, just enough for you to swing her around; one arm and leg slipping free so you could throw her onto the couch. In your flailing she managed to take the TV remote with her, but the moment of peace, of silence, of satisfaction in hearing your idiot sister bounce against the cushions before breaking into a laugh and asking, "what the hell was that for?"

"What did I ever do to deserve the step-sister from hell?" You said as you flopped down at the opposite end of the couch.

"Have a mother hot enough that my dad wanted to fu—"

"You're sick." You cut her off before she finished. She smirked, lifting her sock-clad feet onto the sofa and settling in for movie night. She brought her knees up below her chin and started flicking through the options on the screen to find the one she wanted. Her eyes were wide in her stare, her lower lip bitten. It was pretty much the last time you ever looked at her in this innocent way again.

It was another one of those shitty horror flicks. The kind that didn't even slightly live up to the billing she gave it before. This, however, was Hanni's thing—whenever she convinced you, or otherwise, to finally give up control of your TV, she would put on one of these cheap horror movies and spend the whole night tucked behind a cushion.

As much as you tried for it not to be, it's become something of a ritual, pretty much any night that she was at home, and not unbelievably tired from being overworked and didn't have to be up at the break of dawn.

It's your acceptance of things like that which really showed how much the two of you had grown. You remember fighting for your life against your mother and stepfather to not have to take her in. Convinced that if she wanted to move into the city so badly, she could get her own place, or go to one of those company dorms. Ultimately, you were made to see reason. Your apartment is close to her company, and you had a spare room, after all.

Not that she ever stopped annoying you beyond belief.

The movie, if you could call it that, had you fall into a slumber, and when you woke up Hanni had crawled across the length of the couch and was laid against you, her arms wrapping one of your own. She didn't even realise you had woken up, staring as the credits rolled with a slight, peaceful smile on her face.

She had tied her hair up by now into a ponytail, pulling the hair away from her mostly bare shoulder, where the thin strap of her cropped pyjama top rested. As you peeked down at her, your eyes accidentally fell on the space down her top. It wasn't your fault; they were just right there.

"Shit..." you muttered, catching Hanni's attention.

"Still alive there?" She chuckled a little as she gently patted her palm against your cheek. You feigned a yawn and shut your eyes, settling your head against the pillow once more.

"Hanni, put something else on. This movie is dumb."

"You fell asleep after like ten minutes."

"Yeah, and it seems it didn't take long for you to use me as a body pillow."

Hanni pursed her lips. A red flush ran through her cheeks, and then she quickly sat up. You were watching her the whole time through half-open eyes, chuckling under your breath at her reaction.

"You're an idiot," she says. "Always have been."

You shrugged in reply, "And you're easy to tease, always will be."

"Asshole." She kicked at you.

She tried to kick again, and you caught her foot. You held her bare leg in the air and then lightly kicked her back, hitting her thigh.

"Let go! I'll kick you again. Asshole!" She shouted at you, again and again, struggling to break her foot free from your hand. When you finally let her go, all her struggles made her stumble off the couch. As she went, you kicked out again, this time catching her right on the ass. "Ah! Fuck be careful you hit my plu—" She brought her hands right to her mouth when she realised what she was saying.

"Your what?" You asked.

Hanni cleared her throat, blushing to the point of matching the colour of her red short shorts. "Nothing."

She turned away from you. Just standing there. There's a part of you that wishes that you could go back to this moment. You would have left it there and gone to bed—never kicking her a third time.

But you did it.

Your foot flicked gently against her ass a final time and you felt it. Something hard tucked between the softness of her cheeks. She yelped again. You pinpoint this moment as the catalyst for everything that followed. It’s the part where her innocent image crumbled before your eyes and that’s what allowed you to do what you did. Though really, can you ever be sure that if it didn’t happen now, it wouldn’t have just happened the next day, or next week, or a few months down the line? You tell yourself it was inevitable.

"Is that what I think it is?"

She spun around, facing you once more, trying to muster something. She stumbled over and stuttered her words. "No! I... it's not mine. Minji loaned me one for... just to try... it's not." She held the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "This is... oh, god. This is so embarrassing."

Hanni slumped back onto the sofa and pressed a cushion tight against her face. "Why'd you loan it?" You ask her, only to see her tighten her grip.

"Because."

"Because what?" You sat up by her side and said something that at the time you thought would make it better, but looking back, probably came off rather creepy. "I clean your room, Hanni. I have seen worse things."

Hanni slowly dropped the cushion into her lap and looked at you with a glare. "The fuck?"

"And if you're going to use my laptop, try deleting the history." At this point, you were just piling on the embarrassment.

"Fuck! Oh my God, what did you see?" She threw the cushion into your face.

You picked it out of the air. "Nothing." You lied.

"Bullshit!" Hanni swore. "Did you see everything?"

"Nothing at all..." you said sarcastically while standing up. "I definitely didn't see all the step-brother porn you were binging last week."

She screamed and jumped up. You threw the pillow to stop her and stepped out of reach. "I hate you! You freak!" she shouted, cheeks burning red as the fury rose within her.

"Says the chick wearing a buttplug." You taunted her again as you darted across the room away from her.

"What happened to boundaries!?" She lunged at you again, and you quickly sidestepped her. 

She tried jumping at you once more and missed, only to strike her knee against the corner of the coffee table. She hopped back on one leg with the pain.

"You're an asshole, you know that!?" she shouted, holding onto her knee. You stepped closer, thinking she was really hurt. Until she used the chance to lunge at you and grab you. "What's wrong with a girl enjoying some fantasy? Not like I want to actually fuck you."

You realise now that the proper thing to do would have been to match her disgust. Tell her something along the lines of how the thought repulses you. Continued to tease her about how fucked it is that she would even look at that sort of stuff. The whole thing could have dissolved, but it's when she had hold of you, hammering her fist into your arm, that you said, "don't you?"

Then the long silence ensued. The one that said a hundred unspoken words. As her punches turned into light taps and then to her just holding onto your upper arm. She looked up at you with her pretty eyes open wide. Her lips parted slightly and the tip of her tongue rested on the bottom one as if she had something to say, but the words wouldn't come.

That's the first time you kissed her. Your own step-sister, a girl who should be off-limits in every conceivable way. Yet she opened her mouth and accepted you in that moment. The taste was so sickly sweet.

It was brief, but it told you everything you needed to know, and everything seemed to spiral from there.

First, there was the confusion. The immediate aftermath where you both let go of each other to turn away. Your backs turned on one another as the awkwardness reached its peak. Neither of you was willing to confess the enjoyment of that little exchange.

Then came the passing of the blame. First, it was Hanni who turned to you with a "What the fuck are you doing?"

And you replied with "Me!? You're the one who kissed me!"

She scoffed and shouted a response, "That was all you! Stop being such a perv, freak!" Hanni stomped past you towards her room, face half-full of anger and topped off with shame.

"I'm the perv? You're the one who I hear moan through the walls while, apparently, watching step-brother porn! I think that makes you the messed up one!” you called after her.

A pause. The hesitation. The possibility of confession. She reached her door, and it flew open. In she walked before slamming it closed with a, "you're sick!"

You stared at the door and vainly said under your breath, "you're the sick one." In your head you had realised the real truth to that; how maybe you're both sick because, as the dust settled, you can only think about a handful of things.

The kiss. Her ass. Her cute little tits.

You didn't see her again for the rest of the evening. She reserved herself to her room, while you resigned to the couch with nothing but the television keeping you company.

It had been a long time since you had a shouting match like that with Hanni. See, it used to happen all the time when she first moved in. The problem with a girl like her whose whole world revolves around singing, dancing, media training and beauty is that she lacks any sense of what it's like to be an independent adult. It seemed like the fights would never end, on account of her being seemingly incapable of washing a dish, her clothes or even cooking the most simple of things without burning it or setting something on fire.

But this? This is uncharted territory.

The night wound down, and you were headed to bed, but you found yourself outside her door. Your hand raised, ready to knock. Your breath held. Right when you finally built enough courage is when you heard it. Heard her. Moans muffled through the wood of her door. Your stomach knotted. Your groin twitches.

You lingered, unable to tear yourself away. Even as your logical side began arguing with you that you were in the wrong. That you're probably the worst sort of pervert imaginable and you should feel nothing but guilt.

The other voice, the more confident one; the devil on your shoulder told you that it's Hanni's fault. You had just warned her, and this is what she did in response, like it’s all some sort of game. You refused to admit to yourself that hearing her groaning, whimpering, and moaning through the wall influenced you—tempted you.

Louder and louder. Her voice raised higher, getting to the point where you knew she was practically screaming in the throes of pleasure. Harder and harder you grew. The rational side of you was saying that you should ignore it. Just go to sleep. Forget about it.

"Fuck!" she moaned, and you remained, listening through the door—lost in imagination.

Then you heard footsteps. Bare feet patting on wooden flooring coming closer and closer towards the door. A rush to retreat and you slipped toward your bedroom door. You barely reach the handle before the door across the hall opens.

There was a moment. The two of you locked eyes. Every fibre in your being fought against looking down.

"What?" she asked with a stone-cold expression.

"Nothing." You said, and your willpower broke. You glanced down. Completely naked, she stands at the door, her nipples peaked to fine little tips. And your gaze drifted down her soft curves and slender figure, her wide hips and full thighs.

"Nothing," she mocks.

Her eyes glanced down for a second, then back to your face, and her gaze narrowed. You panicked, dipped into your room and slammed the door just like she did earlier. You press your back to it, the cool wood against your burning body. Your mind raced.

Her feet slapped again against the wooden floor and headed toward the bathroom. That should have been that. You slipped into your bed, frustrated and confused. The sound of the shower running quickly drifted through the walls, but her cries from earlier replayed in your mind until you fell asleep.

That should have been that.

You woke to the darkness of the room—not the morning sunshine—sometime later. Half in a haze, not quite conscious yet, but something had roused you from your slumber: a movement under the sheets and a strange sensation. Warm and damp. Your eyes flicked open, adjusting to the darkness. Your hands jerked reflexively toward your groin and then your senses sharpened.

Someone between your legs. A warm and wet something sliding up and down the shaft of your hardness. Tongue? Yeah, a tongue. Your fingers reached and buried themself into hair. Stomach muscles spasmed as your hips thrust up on their own. Your lips parted as you moaned, "Fuck."

You glanced down.

Hanni.

Naked.

The tip of your cock at her mouth, lips pursed around it. Her smiling eyes sparkled and her skin glimmered, bathed in moonlight coming through the open curtains. Hanni giggled when your eyes met. Your hand dropped to her shoulder.

"Hanni..." Your throat choked dry, and you pushed at her shoulder.

"Shhh." The word whispered against your sensitive tip.

"What the hell are you..." You tried to ask, but Hanni shook her head before sucking in a breath. Then she drew the length of your cock into her warm, wet mouth and the question escaped you. "Holy shit," you gasped.

"This can be our dirty little secret," she said when she lifted her head, fingers stroking you. "We can pretend it didn’t happen in the morning, but for the rest of the night," her finger tickled down the underside of your cock as she spoke, "it can be as real as you want it to be."

You remember being convinced that it was a dream. Maybe one that you would wake up from with a mess in your shorts and, honestly, that probably would have been bad enough—having a wet dream about your step-sister. Reality intruded and threatened to drag you back from your delusion. Hanni took you into her mouth again and it was so very real.

There was no doubting the pleasure, and it was too good to make her stop. You took your hand away from her shoulder, allowing her to do as she pleased. Maybe if it was just a dream, you could allow yourself to indulge in the madness just one time…

"Fucking hell, Hanni." The words slipped from you, and with it, her warm mouth left your throbbing cock.

You peered down at her. She wiped the drool from the sides of her lips and smiled at you. Her eyes were wide as she lowered her head and slipped your dick into her warm mouth once more. Your body jolted as she put her tongue to work. She swirled the tip along the contours and ridges, then licked down the underside of the shaft and then right back up the top, leaving a thin film of saliva on your hardness.

She clasped her hand around you and it all felt far too real. Mixed emotions. There was a cold sense of terror in your heart, even with the heat of arousal radiating all over. The things she did with her lips and her tongue made you doubt your sanity.

"Does that feel good?" She said as she took a quick pause, stroking her hand along the full length. She had just caught her breath in the one moment where she stopped sucking, the first chance where her mouth wasn't busy trying to draw the soul out of you through the tip of your cock.

"You were right." She spoke almost as quickly as your mind spun. "About... the step-brother thing. It feels sick, and gross, and... wrong. It makes me feel dirty." Hanni pauses for a second, seemingly running her eyes over your body and then asks, "how depraved does it make me that it gets me really, really horny?"

Hanni had no clue that the same thoughts filled the back of your mind. Only that you weren't able to string it into words like she did. She was right. It felt really wrong, and yet there was a rush to do something that should never be done. This was where the next step began. The breaking of the boundaries. The perverse excitement in the face of the taboo.

Her hand reached out behind her and pulled back the sheets that covered her body. She was crouched between your spread legs, head still by your cock, her soft ass in the air. The cool light from the moon kissed her skin as she slowly slipped her fingers between her plump cheeks. "And this only made it worse. I've been so horny ever since I started wearing it."

Her hand moved slightly, just out of view behind her, and she let out a breathy moan.

"Hanni. What're you—

You're interrupted. "It hurt a little at first. Just a bit but you get used to it, and if it's in a good spot, if you hit it right..." She kept touching herself in front of you, and another breathy gasp escaped her lips and then she looked up at you still lying there. "What are you waiting for? Isn't this what you want?"

That's when you stirred. Reciprocated. You sat up and she rose to meet you. In seconds, you were embracing. Frenzied. Wild. All teeth and tongues and roaming hands. Shorter than you. So much smaller. She let out a yelp when you grabbed her, though she instantly silenced it by shoving her tongue back in your mouth and kissing you deeply.

Pressed against your bare chest, her breasts felt small but supple, perfect little handfuls. Her waist is slender beneath your grasp. The thick flesh of her thighs was so full and shapely. When she opened her eyes, they had such want. Lust—pure and undeniable.

So close, and the faint whimpers at her throat are a seduction. You felt it was an invitation, and your lips kissed her chin, trailing kisses down her neck. "Yes. Yes. Yes..." she encouraged you lower. Your tongue tasted the saltiness of her skin, teeth grazing and then pinching softly. Her arms were tight around your head, nails biting into the base of your neck.

She trembled at your every caress, shook each time you teased a pert nipple. Gasped louder each time you nibbled her collarbone. You turned, lifting her, and then she fell back and presented herself to you. Her legs splayed open and her bare, wet cunt dripping, begging you to take it, but...

"No," you told yourself, "it's too fast," and you began a line of kisses down her stomach, beginning at her cleavage and trailing straight down her stomach. The muscles beneath her pale skin twitched and clenched in response and her breath had gone erratic. You reached her belly button and she hooked her legs over your shoulder, and when you dipped further she clenched her thighs and squeezed as you toyed with her.

You remember savouring the moment. Savouring the pleasure, savouring the veniality.

"Lower, please," she begged in the most needy voice. "Please, I... fuck, oh, fuck please..."

It's hard to describe it all.

Somehow, in the night, you both reached a state of understanding. A state of consensual debauchery that came with a sense of agreement; a pact signed with tongue on skin in this moment of depravity.

You kissed her, playfully moving between her legs. Thigh to thigh, to dangerously close to her wet core, and there you lingered. The air grew humid. Hanni's sweet scent filled your nose. You ran your hands up her legs and felt the warmth in your palms. She gripped onto the hair at the top of your head; her fists tightened.

"Why're you teasing me, asshole?"

Hanni's moans grew louder and more needy when you used your tongue against her. Her legs wrapped tight, hooking behind your back. There was something satisfying about her reactions to your actions, something exciting about seeing her squirm.

The tip of your tongue ran up the lips of her cunt, dipping between the fleshy folds and coming to suck upon her swollen clit. Her eyes widened at the touch, and her jaw slacked to the point her words went incoherent. Her whole body spasmed as she arched and moaned out something filthy.

One moment you had hold of her thigh, feeling her clench up and quiver, the next you found that your fingers had moved downward and pressed against her slick opening. At the slight touch of your fingertips to the tenderness there, a short cry slipped out of her again. She tightened and clenched around them as you pushed in deeper.

"Who's teasing?" you asked before you buried yourself to the knuckles in her.

A smirk formed, and Hanni was about to speak, but no words came. You pumped her at a steady pace, curling your digits within her while lapping at her clit. The taste of sin never tasted so sweet. 

The combination drove her insane, and it didn’t take long until you were on the verge of making your step-sister cum.

You wrapped your lips around that swollen nub of hers and flicked it with the tip of your tongue, faster and harder, until her many moans became one, long, drawn-out and passionate, as a climax rocked through her.

Her ass lifted off the bed and her legs quivered, shaking uncontrollably while her fingers tugged painfully at the hairs on the back of your head. She jerked and gasped with a look of ecstasy on her face as she moaned your name over and over, almost reaching a scream. Your name on her lips again, and again, and you were drunk on this euphoria.

She released your head, and you postured over her, still slipping a pair of fingers into her, but slower. She drew a deep, trembling sigh and forced a smile, watching you. "I hate you," she managed.

"Do you?" you asked as you drew your cum-soaked fingers out of her. Her legs rested on your hips and the underside of your stiff cock was against her pussy. You reached around her hip, to her ass, to the plug still sat between her cheeks. Hanni hissed at your touch, biting her lip at the sensation.

"Yes. I hate you," Hanni whimpered, giving the softest moans as you tugged on the metal. Her eyelids fluttered.

"Why?" you asked.

"I just do," Hanni weakly gasped, struggling to stay strong in the moment. "You make me feel things. Things I shouldn't feel. It shouldn't be this easy."

"In that case. I hate you too, sis'."

There was this moment after you said that, where you shared a stare. Maybe the most confusing stare of your life. Calling her sis', in this position, should have been horrifying. And it was, but only at a peripheral level. Otherwise, it felt surprisingly... hot.

You dipped into her for another kiss, and this one seemed ever more ravenous than the last. You kissed with hunger and her hand ran around the back of your head. Kissed as lovers would. She was just as aroused as you and eager for more.

Slow and soft, you rocked yourself against her wetness. Your length dragged between her lips, up over her clit, and down again to poke at her entrance. You moved over and over, enjoying the tease.

The slow, sticky friction between the two of you. Her breath was sharp, as you slipped yourself over her and kissed at her neck. Every rock of your hips, she ground back against you.

"I think..." She hesitated. "Fuck. I think I'm ready. Just... go slow?"

The guilt of what's happened was a distant thing, a buzzing fly on a summer afternoon. The kind of thing that when you're so enthralled by something else, it becomes invisible. Then, with a nod and a shivering sigh, she reached down and gripped your cock. You bent back from kissing her so she could guide you.

Her tiny cunt. Her beautiful wetness. Her forbidden, decadent treasure.

Her breath was shaky. Her next words came out amid a tremble, "I've never... No one else."

You brushed stray strands of hair out of her face and ran your hand over her cheek. You gave her the reassurance she needed.

She told you, a few weeks later, how grateful she was that it was you. See, for all the filth that ran through her mind on an almost daily basis, she never imagined what it would be like. It being you—who you are and everything you meant to her—made it easy. Natural. Wonderful.

That first time, you took it all so slow. With her legs raised over yours. Watching the subtle changes in expression as you gradually moved more and more of your cock into her. Sinking deep between her pink, delicate walls. Your step-sister, panting and squirming beneath you.

"You okay?" you asked her.

"Ah... yes. This is... I love it," she responded between whining breaths.

It was just enough, the reassurance, so you could push into her the rest of the way. Her hand found its way to your shoulder; bracing as you eased in, her delicate frame tensing as you buried fully.

You watched her reaction and tried to be still as you felt her slick cunt pulse around you, wanting you. She swallowed and gripped you with the muscles within her. The second of respite didn't last long though; you weren't sure if it was a request or accident when her feet tapped against the curve of your ass, but it prompted you to fuck her.

"Feels... fuck." You sucked your breath between your teeth and braced yourself up on a shaky arm. You drew out slowly, and you noticed her nails digging into the arm you supported yourself upon. 

You groaned in relief more than anything else as your hips pumped the shallow strokes that sent electricity through your body. She started pushing herself onto you as she clutched your back, drawing her heels over the small of your spine. You looked down to see her eyelids were flickering, and the sight only served to inflame you more. Her moans were so erotic and encouraging.

That first time, it was special. You took your time together to explore each other's bodies, the curves of hips, the muscles, the valleys and ridges. You caressed your stepsister's gorgeous body and then tried your best to put her through another climax, as if your efforts to reach your own were less important.

"Fuck you're so tight," you told her, during those final thrusts, buried to the hilt in her tiny, soft pussy.

She spoke, her voice weak and shuddering, "You're big... inside me..."

The fact that she held you tighter in her embrace and how it seemed that she refused to let you out of her even as she came apart was telling.

She came that night, again, this time all over your cock. The first of many times to come. A string of incomprehensible cries erupted from her in the throes of that first proper fuck. Hanni's thighs flexed around your hips. She clung desperately to your body as she cried into your mouth as she climaxed.

Not long after is when you felt it too, that impending release. A coil of pressure. Unfamiliar and intense. The mere thought of emptying inside her drove you mad. Your fingers dug into her hips as you fucked your step-sister with complete abandon.

"Don't. Not inside. Please, not inside," she murmured in an incoherent mantra of guilt and pleasure, right next to your ear.

You didn't, of course. You drove yourself right to the edge and pulled out. Her juices coated your length, slick and wet as your cock twitched in anticipation of the final moments. Hanni wanted your release as badly as you did. She took you into her hand for the finish, gripping tightly and jerking that first hot shot of cum onto her soft tummy. You thrust through her hand to let the pleasure course through you. Each thrust sent a long rope splattering onto her naked skin as she grinned up at you, flushed and sweaty, covered in your lust.

That was the first night, but definitely not the last.

The next morning arrived with Hanni in your arms—the little spoon. The little naked spoon pressed against your body. Skin to skin. She woke you with the slow rocking motion of her body, grinding her plump cheeks against you.

"I could get used to this," she whispered under her breath, smiling against the crook of your arm. "Good morning," she said to you over her shoulder. "Sleep well? You had some pretty naughty dreams last night, didn't you?"

You responded with your erection growing against the warm crevice of her butt and a gentle hum as her ass rocked over it. That was no dream. "I did," you said groggily. "As naughty as yours."

"Mmmm," is all she had as a response, lost in the pleasant distraction, grinding herself back into you even more. As she did so, you grew harder, until your stiffness pressed against the plug still wedged into her ass. Hanni had left it there overnight. "The thing about dreams is that they're easy to forget. Want to remind me of mine?"

You ran your hand down her thigh, and that's how the second time started. You caressed her flesh for a while, feeling the softness of her thighs while she silently lay there, patiently allowing you to enjoy her.

Then, you grabbed her by the knee, opening her legs and then she spoke, "Are you going to make your step-sister cum again?"

So quickly did she become so utterly shameless. You grunted in reply and then you held her leg up by hooking under the knee, and shuffled down slightly, letting your hard cock slip from between her cheeks and go between her legs.

You closed your eyes and leaned into her. Lips at her shoulders, the kisses soon trailed to her neck. She hummed as you ground your cock between her folds. Not even putting in the effort to try to actually enter her just yet, just teasing your stepsister for the moment.

Her voice filled with the sweet sound of passion.

Your heart began pounding and a flush rose to your cheeks. You could have written that first night off as a mistake. One you would regret, forget and never make again. Not after this. This is a definitive choice. One of sound mind and body, not under the tension of an argument or anything else that happened before.

This is different.

Hanni reached her hand down between her legs, pulling your cock so it would slip into her when you shift your hips. "Fuck me," she begged.

You did. You slipped inside her and heard her moan in such sweet ecstasy. She gripped the pillow she slept on the night before, burying her face in it, and moaning into it in such sweet rapture. "Fuck, yes, harder," Hanni moaned.

When she pushed her hips back onto you, her ass brushed against your belly. The rhythm began. Slow. Lazy thrusts. Enjoying every sensation in the post-sleep haze, savouring the fact that you knew how good she felt on the inside. How incredible her wet, silky, tight depths felt when you slid in and out of them.

"Is this what you wanted?" Your voice is low, near a growl. Your arms around your step-sister. It shouldn't, by all accounts, feel natural to have her like that, but it did.

"Yes, it feels incredible. Please don't stop." Your cock bottomed out within her. As deep as you could go. You groaned, and stayed there for a while, feeling your stepsister clenching down, her inner walls trying to pull you in further.

Hanni's hands gripped at the bedsheets, clutching tightly to them. The position pressed the metal of the plug between her asscheeks, and as your thrusting continued, the sensation sent a tingle through her body. It was a filthy combination. One that allowed every stroke you drove into her cunt to simultaneously send an equally blissful shock straight into her ass.

It was madness for her to indulge in the ecstasy—for both of you to lose yourselves.

You grew faster, and she unwound completely. She grew limp as she reached her climax. She couldn't even grip the bedsheets, or the pillow, her body simply submitting to the pleasure. She merely lay there as your hips battered against her soft ass, fucking her right through it.

Then she asked you, right after it subsided, "Ever fantasised about cumming on my ass before?"

The way she asked that made the question feel almost normal. "That the sort of thing they do in the porn you watch?" You slowed for a bit to deliver the tease.

Hanni couldn't keep the shy smile from creeping across her lips. "There was this one video where a guy put it all over his sister's butt. Seemed like he really liked it."

The fact she talked to you about the dirty things she likes helped it all along. It was the extent of her experience, the videos, but it helped. What it told you about what she really likes, what she enjoys... It became the basis for all your dirty experiments.

"That sounds hot. You have a cute ass."

She giggled to herself, rolling her hips, getting up onto her hands and knees and facing away from you.

You seated yourself onto your calves, giving her space and watching as she turned, giving you the view you craved. "I do?" She said as she glanced back over her shoulder, showing her innocence and naïvete in all its splendour. Her eyes sparkled and then a smile spread over her lips to match that look in her eye.

"The cutest," you told her as you kneeled behind her. One hand caressed the outside of her thigh while the other gripped the base of your cock. Eyes firmly set on that beautiful plump ass. That was the second time in just a few hours that you covered Hanni in your cum.

She watched every second as you did, barely managing a blink. Arousal and delight danced over her features in equal measure, and your name left her tongue in the form of a delightful, drawn-out groan. The effect was very apparent. With every streak and ribbon of white landing, she gasped and moaned while staring at the mess.

From that moment on, you entered regularity. It seemed like for months, every chance the two of you got to fuck, you fucked. Her room. Your room. The shower. The sofa. The kitchen. Against that window that overlooks the city's skyline. A public bathroom. A hand job in the car while you're stuck in traffic. Riding your face in a park, hidden among trees, grass, and bushes. Fucking, kissing, and biting until the both of you are exhausted and sore and dripping with sweat. It never ceased. Two insatiable appetites. Your mutual loss of control continued. The affair felt so exhilarating. An explosion of forbidden sin in an otherwise normal existence.

It all came with its fair share of close calls. That Saturday morning surprise visit from your parents where you answered their knock at the door and they invited themselves in, all while Hanni lies naked in your bedroom. How you sneakily warned her before she emerged and spun the story to them both about how she slept on your floor out of fear after watching another one of her horror movies. They bought it, of course, because they couldn't imagine there being any other explanation.

Then there was Hanni's near miss with her group. She told you all about how Minji had picked up on how something had changed with her; about how convinced Minji was that Hanni had found herself a boyfriend. About the look Minji gave her as Hanni protested, and finally how she got away with a half-truth.

She told the girls it was because of you and how you would work out together on weekends to make her feel better.

Everything was going so well, which made this week even more confusing.

It's been days since you last saw her. The longest you have gone in some time. Long hours and staying over with her members are one thing. Going days with no word or anything at all is another. She ignored your texts, never returned your calls, and stopped showing up at home like you'd come to expect.

No warning.

Nothing.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Play Pretend | Charles Leclerc x Law Student! Reader

Summary: He's Lightning McQueen. You're Elle Woods. But, when Charles misses you, he makes it known that perhaps your career isn't as important as his wishes to start a family.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever? Miscommunication.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Pics found on Pinterest.

2024 but some events switched around 

I'm trying to make all of these different to each other so I'm sorry that this one was less baby fever and more baby mention.

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes and others 

YourUserName the cause of stress v. the support systems   tagged: charles_leclerc, YourBestFriend

6,883 comments

User1 i love how all her captions ft her degree are legal themed 

charles_leclerc ❤️💛

charles_leclerc mon ange, what are you doing in that second photo

→ YourUserName it’s probably best you don’t know, char

→ YourBestFriend cocktails were involved

→ charles_leclerc this is why i don’t like leaving her with you 

→ YourBestFriend cry me a river, vroom vroom boy 

lilymhe i still think i would be a better support system than charles

→ YourUserName and i fully agree. let’s run away together

→ alex_albon whoa, whoa, whoa. get your own girlfriend

→ charles_leclerc she already has her own girlfriend! 

→ charles_leclerc wait, no

→ User2 the prettiest girlfriend

User3 i swear charles and y/n are the cutest f1 couple

→ User4 they always look so infatuated with each other 

→ User5 umm, how? she's literally never at races 

→ User6 because she’s off being successful in her own way, and charles supports that? plus, she’s always snapped in ferrari merch on race days whether she’s there or not

→ User7 omg yes! when a classmate took a pic of her leaving a final in bright red, and she was easily the most spottable person in that hall 

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc and others

charles_leclerc welcome home baby leo  tagged: YourUserName

12,298 comments

YourUserName my two favourite boys ❤️

User8 did you see in the background of one of the pics, they have his “birth certificate” framed and it says leo leclerc-y/l/n. he truly is their child

roscoelovescoco can’t wait’s to see’s a new’s friend in’s the paddock’s 

→ User9 roscoe-leo play date when please

→ User10 not until 2025 😂

User11 but let’s all take a moment to appreciate how cool leo’s parents are. he has an f1 racer for a dad, and a fashionable law student for a mum

→ User12 haha his parents are lightning mcqueen and elle woods 

pierregasly thanks mate. now kika is going to want one

→ YourUserName and you should give her one. i need a mum friend 

User13 first they adopt ollie and now leo. who’s next

→ YourUserName oscar

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User1 the interviewer was asking about future races and charles wasted no time in bringing up his girlfriend. he’s so down bad 

User2 the way his face lights up when he talks about her. he really does love her. 

User3 oh Charles, honey, that’s not giving what you think it is 

User4 any other woman slightly uncomfortable with the way this was worded?

→ User5 lets all take a moment to remember that english isn’t his first language. he obviously meant well, and the love in his eyes shows that he’s excited about a life with y/n, it just wasn’t worded in the best way 

User6 the interviewer was so skeezy for that last comment though

User7 i feel so bad for y/n. she’s always so supportive of charles' races, even when she’s not there, and charles is talking about how he can't wait for her to be done with her degree so she can follow him around the world 

→ User8 i don’t think he meant it that way. he looked horrified when the interviewer interpreted it that way but the interview ended before he could clarify further 

User9 do we think mom and dad are fighting after his *slightly* misogynistic comments about making her a kept woman

→ User10 i really hope not but my heart says yes because he basically said he’ll turn her into a travel wife who only cares about his career but said nothing about her career that she’s working really hard on

User11 i didn’t realise how much i depended on y/n’s post race posts until i didn’t get one

→ User12 she always posts the most panty-dropping post race charles pics 

User13 i miss them already 

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

User1 oh god, it’s official

User2 brb just gonna go cry my eyes out for an hour 

User3 literally half of her insta posts have disappeared because they were all charles 

→ User4 the only thing keeping me sane is that any post where he wasn’t the main focus but slightly in them have been kept 

User5 can someone check on ollie? see how he’s coping as a child of divorce 

liked by OllieBearman

User6 yes, yes. this is all very sad but now that i’m done crying, can we talk about what is going to happen with leo? is this going to be a shared custody agreement?

→ User7 how could i forget about leo. do you think they’ll see each other at child drop off or make arthur be the middle man?

User8 i can't believe they just got a puppy together and now they’re going to be co-parenting instead :( 

User9 maybe this is just a minor speed bump in the road to their everlasting happiness? (yes, i’m hoping that they’re simply taking a small break)

→ User10 may all your delulus come trululu

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

YourUserName just posted

liked by lilymhe, arthur_leclerc and others 

YourUserName the verdict is unanimous… I’m stressing

3,880 comments

YourBestFriend this barbies practices law

→ YourBestFriend not long left, babe. just a couple of exams and we’re qualified adults

→ YourUserName i don’t think we should ever be classed as qualified adults lol 

→ YourMum i still can't get over the fact that you two used to play pretend lawyers as little girls and now you're actually going to be one

lilymhe good luck, y/n. you’re gonna smash these! 

→ YourUserName if not, fancy running me over with your golf cart? 

arthur_leclerc good luck, y/n/n. try not to drink too much caffeine 

→ YourUserName i’m not that bad! 

→ arthur_leclerc you cannot lie to me. i have had to listen to you after three red bulls

→ landonorris betrayal! 

User1 she’s so real for that last slide tho. like miss y/l/n you are gorgeous and we’re glad you know it

YourClassmate how do you look so nice despite being in the library until 2am?

→ User2 dude, no. that line is not going to pull the stunning y/n y/l/n

→ User3 literally, the love of her life is charles leclerc and this guy thinks he’s going to win her over with a bad line 

User4 guys, is anyone else missing the sweet comments charles would always leave 

→ User5 he would be agreeing with the last slide and telling her how beautiful and smart she is 

→ User6 how about we don’t remind her of her ex-boyfriend the day before her life-changing exams

carlossainz55 good luck🤞🏼

→ User7 not sainz being messy on main

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc there is nothing like racing in italy for ferrari. i wish we had a better result, but that was the maximum today. we’ll try again next week. 

8,449 comments

User9 did you see his interview of him on his way out of the paddock? man was in a rush with poor leo tucked under his arm

→ User10 it’s y/n’s week with leo so charles was running out there because it was time to go see his favourite girl 

→ User11 he was not wasting a minute to see the love of his life 

User12 charles racing faster to go see his ex-girlfriend who he’s wildly obsessed with than he did all weekend 

→ User13 bestie you better pray he doesn’t see this 

→ User14 why? ‘cause he’ll have to fight the urge to like it 

User15 i’m so happy that it’s y/n’s week with leo because we’re going to get the most adorable puppy pics on her story all week

→ User16 also it means that his parents will be conversing 

User17 i love that we’re all depending on leo to get f1’s favourite couple back together 

Baby Fever Angst

Daniel's Version | Max's Version | Lando's Version

Lance's Version | Oscar’s Version

Oscar's version will come out next and then I promise, I'll release some of the Part 2s before making any more

(This wasn’t due out until tomorrow but I’ve released it earlier in honour of THE MONACO WIN BABY!!!!!!) 🥳🍾🥳🍾

Tag list

@lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @elijahslover @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @brsr @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @dullypully @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @mxdi0 @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @glow-ish

[batboyblog]

I'm seeing a worrying amount of idiots on tumblr dot com push that "Kamala hates trans women" and I am losing my mind at how they are pushing it, constantly, saying she is a proven transmisogynist, despite it being a complete lie and her actively working behind the scenes to help trans women in prison. Is there like, sources that could help debunk this shit because I'm at my wits end as these people scream and cry and vomit trying to get biden to drop out but then are like "eghhhh still don't wanna vote for a transphobic cop..." when she's NEITHER-

Isn't the internet wonderful? first rule NEVER examine your priors! ALWAYS! hang onto whatever the first hot take you had on a subject to THE DEATH!

"Kamala is Transphobic!" over here in reality

past that trans and LGBT rights groups have been quick to endorse her like

Advocates for Trans Equality

Human Rights Campaign

just today 1,100 LGBT celebrities, lawmakers and leaders endorsed her

“The intersection on the issue of reproductive care and trans care, and the ability of families to be able to have care for their children and their families, is really, again, an intersection around attacks that are on an identity,” -Vice-President Harris, 2023

any ways the root of the idea she's transphobic comes from one case in 2015. Two inmates in the California State Prison system sued to get GRS, which as inmates would have been covered by the Prison system. It's worth noting here, both women got what they wanted, one was paroled and got the surgery covered by California Medicare while the other serving a life sentence was ultimately covered by the prison system.

Two things are important to bear in mind here, 1. Part of the job of California Attorneys General is to defend the state when it is sued, thats the job, 2. It seems early on in the case Harris was not personally aware of it, about 1,000 lawyers work in the Cali AG's office and so the AG cannot be personally aware of every case, and check this quote from the Lambda Legal lawyer handling the case:

“The California AG’s office shifted its handling of these cases significantly after now-Sen. Harris took over,” Renn said. “Initially there was language in briefing for the state that glaringly misunderstood the medical necessity of transition-related medical care and was patently offensive. But then, there was a dramatic change, which seems to have gone along with important policy shifts.”

Link

in 2019 Harris talked about the case and working after it was settled to change the policy of the California State Prison system

"When that case came up, I had clients, and one of them was the California Department of Corrections. It was their policy. When I learned about what they were doing, behind the scenes, I got them to change the policy," Harris said.

"I commit to you that always in these systems there are going to be these things that these agencies do. And I will commit myself, as I always have, to dealing with it," Harris said.

Any ways Harris can consistently spoken out for and supported Trans people, banned the hateful Trans panic defense when she was AG, in the Senate supported the Equality Act, during her 2020 campaign for President she drew attention to the hate crimes against black trans women while holding herself accountable for the 2015 case. As Vice-President she drew fire voicing support for Dylan Mulvaney during the hellish Bud Light backlash. Her Husband Doug was tapped to host the first ever White House Trans Day of Remembrance

basically you're looking at a great ally who clearly supports trans rights, who was involved in a case, which involved two people who got the surgeries they were looking for paid for by the State of California, close to 10 years ago now, there's evidence that both she moved the case in a better direction when she took over it and also that she changed the polices of the state to before more gender affirming.

[earthtooz]

fluff with a lot of angst, reader is injured and in hospital for one scene but it's not graphic, lovesick!bakugou

during the many years you’ve loved bakugou katsuki, you have only seen him cry three times.

the first time, you were alarmed. where you fell asleep on the couch awaiting your boyfriend’s return, you did not expect to wake up to the sound of sniffles and the sight of drying tears.

“katsuki? what’s the matter?” you asked cautiously, immediately sitting up to wipe his tears away.

your touch, like a healing balm to the blond, lets you treat him like glass when both of you know he is nothing akin to fragile.

“‘s nothin’,” he gruffly huffs, voice cracking a little.

“if you say so,” you murmur skeptically, knowing better than to prod when it’s bakugou involved.

“were ya waitin’ for me?”

you nod. “i thought we could eat together but- what time is it?”

“almost nine.”

“oh. i thought we could eat dinner together but your patrol must have ended a lot later.”

his heart aches pitifully, worsening when he watches you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “‘m sorry, i didn’t mean to come home so late.”

“it’s okay, i get it.”

“we can still eat together, if that’s okay,” he grumbles, looking away bashfully and missing the way your face brightens.

“that sounds lovely, i’ll go heat up dinner-“

“-no, i’ll do it. it’s my fault for coming home later, i’ll call you when it's done.”

bakugou is out of your sight before you can argue any further. as you watch your boyfriend disappear, you’re left pondering on the couch as to why he was acting so uncharacteristically. did he have a bad day? did something happen at work? was he unable to save someone? that’s can't be the reason, he always-

“dinner’s done!” your boyfriend calls from the kitchen, disrupting your thoughts.

when you asked, it didn't sound like he had a terrible day, in fact it sounds like he had a successful patrol, but you cannot fathom any other reason for his melancholy, but if he’s forgotten about it, then you will too.

but... bakugou doesn’t forget. he still remembers when midoriya first alluded to the inheritance of his quirk from all might, he remembers the night vision goggles kirishima broke when trying to save him that one time, he remembers your favourite things and what makes you happy; he remembers everything.

and he’ll never forget that the tears he shed tonight were over the fact that bakugou will never get to show you how much he loves you.

bakugou katsuki, for the first time, realised just how painfully human he is.

he has a heart that beats for you, limbs that longingly ache to be near you whenever he’s not, a mind devoted to you and a cursed mouth so incapable of expressing it all.

if he could, he would wrestle the night sky to give its stars to you instead because you love stars. you love the stupid things in life that bakugou can't give. he can’t give you everything you could ever want and with that realisation, bakugou discovered just how beatable he was.

you may never know the multitude of bakugou’s love for you, and that fact alone brings him to tears as he gazed upon your sleeping figure on the couch, resting peacefully until his arrival.

the second time, you wake up confused.

the lights in the room are dim, there's a machine beeping intermittently and you think it's a heartbeat monitor but you don't really think too hard about it because your body hurts.

you have to blink a few times to get the blurriness out of your eyes, but you eventually comprehend the sterile walls of a hospital room. then the memories come back one by one, a patrol gone awry, evacuating citizens and... ah, being slammed into a wall back-first by the villain. explains the pain.

then you register the looming figure beside your bed, a pair of widened vermillion eyes gazing into your own with untameable blond hair to match, you can't help the smile from spreading on your face when you see your lover.

"hey," you cough weakly, throat dry and scratchy from lack of use.

next thing you know, bakugou's bulky figure is draped over yours, forehead resting on your chest as his arms gently snake around your torso, bringing you into his chest and pressing himself firmly against you.

you feel him; his relief, his sorrow, his devotion, his painful sobs as he shakes against you and it kills you that the only thing you have the strength to do is run a hand through his hair. you want to kiss him, to tell him that it's okay and that there's nothing to cry about, that you're here and nothing will change that, but you're so very sore and barely in tact.

"don't do this shit again," he threatens weakly and you feel his tears seep through your hospital gown. "you had me so fuckin' worried, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, i can't believe you'd do this to me, do you know how much it sucked to be without you?"

"sorry, katsuki," you whisper and he looks up at you, glossy eyes and quivering lip.

"promise me you'll never do this again."

cupping his cheeks with your hands, there's a rush of deja vu as your thumbs catch his tears. "i don't know how realistic that promise is given that this is my job-"

"-your job is to save lives, not go crashin' into buildings, idiot."

you laugh gently, a stabbing pain making itself known in your gut when you do. your wince doesn't go unnoticed by bakugou, who knows you better than the back of his hand and his heart lurches at the slightest evidence that you're in pain. "still, i won't make promises i can't keep, you know how our jobs are, katsuki."

he frowns, furrowing his brows. "then i'll promise to always be there for you. don't go where i can't."

"that's not realistic."

"watch me."

"okay then, deal."

there are questions you still want answers to, but for now, you'll let the blond continue crying with his ear pressed against your chest.

(you won't ever know about the few days bakugou has spent in your hospital ward, absolutely miserable as he looks upon your gaze with anticipation. he hates how helpless he is, that he can't do anything to rid of this horrible feeling in his chest but wait for you to wake up. he hates that he can't any semblance of peace, he hates the man that love has made him, but most importantly, he hates being without you.

you won't ever know the struggle it was to get bakugou out of your room for even just an hour. midoriya and kirishima had to wrestle him in hopes of getting some proper food together, and yaomomo and todoroki had to literally block the door with various items to prevent his entrance.

you won't ever know how alienated bakugou felt, unable to face your shared home without you in it. without your music playing, without your shoes messily thrown at the genkan, without your comforting presence to return to when all is said and done, there isn't much of a home for bakugou.

you won't ever know how desperately bakugou clung to your hand, fiddling with it whenever he needed a safe haven.

you won't ever know the amount of tears the blond had shed by your side, hunched over your bed, with nothing and no one to comfort him but the sound of the heartbeat monitor.)

the third time, you cry too.

it's your wedding day.

when the news first came out, japan practically roared with excitement and anticipation for the special day that their two favourite heroes would wed. the enthusiasm has not dimmed down even months later, and now, as you're one door away from your lover, you feel it buzzing in your bones.

it all goes by in a blur. one second you're about to trip over yourself in nervousness and the next, you're walking down the aisle with a stunned bakugou failing to keep his composure at the altar. despite the amount of close friends and family around you, all you can see is the love of your life who looks at you with unmatched adoration and affection in those ruby irises of his.

up close, however, all you can see are the tears forming in his eyes, and his first sniffle takes everyone in the room by surprise. no doubt, this is their first and last time seeing their beloved hero cry.

more tears are shed and then, it's just waterworks from practically everyone in the room as bakugou breaks down even more.

thank goodness for a private wedding because you know he is never going to live it down if the press got their hands on this image.

a close friend of yours hands you a handkerchief and you wipe away bakugou's tears with a teasing smile, unable to keep your wobbly laughter at bay as your lover- japan's symbol of victory and heroism, turns to nothing but putty in your hands. he lets you treat him so delicately because you've seen him at his lowest, most shaken, and most unlovable, yet still decided to stay.

"sorry," he apologises as you dab at his tears, words reserved for you and you alone. "you're just so... divine. i can't believe i'm marryin' you."

you feel your first tear roll down your cheek and bakugou catches it before it can go too far, wiping it away.

"such an embarrassin' way to start our wedding," he grumbles.

"embarrassing for the both of us, but memorable no doubt," you try to reason.

"everything is memorable as long as i'm with you."

"such a sap," you whack his shoulder lightly. "have you been saving that line for today specifically?"

"you should wait til the vows. bet mine are better than yours."

"i didn't know you could be a poet."

"only for you."

"well then, i can't wait to find out what else you are, katsuki."

"i'll always be yours."

you laugh, "i'm glad to hear that 'cause i love you."

"i love you even more, i'm crying just to prove it."

"your tears are dangerous."

"yeah well, you're marryin' these tears so."

"like i said, i can't wait."

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.