#Seriously I thought he was going to hit him

[cazort]

I think you've hit some of the big factors but not all of them.

I think a major factor driving people to Trump is reaction to left-wing extremism during the 2010's, so-called "cancel culture". My one friend who is a Trump supporter is like this. He had a bunch of people gang up on him and totally demonize him. Some of their criticisms were fair criticisms of bad things he had done, but that he had apologized for and he thought they had been resolved. He lost his entire social circle minus a few isolated friends like me who did not cut him off. It was traumatizing for him.

My neighbor, who is very liberal, has a son who is also a Trump supporter and he also became such a supporter because he got "cancelled". In his case, he made a single problematic comment about race publicly on social media. He was a freelance photographer. A whole bunch of people ganged up on him almost instantly and destroyed his professional reputation almost overnight. Again, he was traumatized. He moved back home with his parents.

Both of these people ended up going deep down right-wing rabbit holes. The right-wingers spoke to these people and empathized with their pain and listened to their concerns while the left bullied, condemned, and cut them off. It seems totally understandable to me that these people fell into right-wing circles based on how they were treated.

The thing is, each of these people did something wrong. But the mob's reaction to them was disproportionate, and it was condemning not supportive. Completely ruining someone's professional reputation and destroying their source of livelihood is not a proportionate reaction to making a single comment that people perceived as racist. And bringing up bad things a person has done in their past, that they had fully apologized for and thought were resolved, is not even remotely healthy in terms of ways to communicate and act. Even if the original action was quite bad. Neither of these reactions helped the person in any way shape or form to learn or grow.

For every extreme case like this, there are hundreds if not thousands of minor cases.

One thing that I think has driven people away from the left is identity politics, specifically, the way the left does not embrace principles of "treat people equally regardless of their identity" but rather, has embraced ideas where certain groups are labeled "privileged" and others "oppressed" or "marginalized", and the left's general ethic is to give the marginalized groups more of a voice. Special treatment, so to speak. The worst is when people start feeling license to insult or talk down to people in the privileged group. I've been saying for years that targeting privileged groups with hate always ends up hurting marginalized groups the most.

I wrote that post 8 years ago. Not enough people have read it. It only has 24 reblogs. Seriously. You want to figure out why Trump won and prevent this sort of thing from happening again? Read that post. Reflect. Internalize it. Reblog it. Make new material that communicates the same ideas in your own voice. I'm wordy and make these long text posts that don't reach everyone...find new ways to communicate it that will reach others.

Seriously, people, we have a lot of work to do. The nation is hurting and it's not just the people who voted for Harris. The whole Trump movement is a big giant ball of hurt and if we can't see that and can't work to heal those people we will never get ourselves out of this mess.

If Harris loses, please try blaming real issues (Republican-driven voter suppression and intimidation tactics; billionaire-funded Trump-PAC’s and propaganda machines; a broken electoral system that hinges presidential elections on a dozen or so states instead of a simple popular vote; or the Democratic Party’s fumbled opportunities to respond to things like the corporate greed driven cost of living crisis, the housing shortage, the medical debt and healthcare accessibility crisis, the ongoing climate disaster, and the ongoing genocide in Palestine) instead of doing the Right’s job for them by blaming folks like climate protestors, Antizionist and pro-Palestine activists, Black and Brown people, jaded millennials living paycheck to paycheck, and tumblr users with an audience ⅛ the size of the average Christofascist MegaChurch Congregation.

[scuderiahalf]

(almost) one year with you — c.sainz

pairing. carlos sainz x strategist!norris!fem!reader

summary. your boyfriend is usually so intelligent. when he makes one of the stupidest decisions of his life to break up with you, his best friend (and your idiot brother) decides to take matters into his own hands. 4.3k, 18+

warnings. breakups = makeup sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, reader is kind of a bitch but carlos is into it

masterlist.

.

"I'm going to kick the door open."

"Please, do not do that," Carlos says from behind you.

"You think I can't?"

Smartly, Carlos chooses not to voice any further opinions.

You kick the door, more out of frustration than an actual attempt to break it open.

"I'm going to murder you when I get out of here, Lando!" you shout against the door, not really caring if your idiot brother has hung around to hear the very real threat.

You may not actually kill him (you're still debating it) but you will definitely hit him. At least five times. Maybe more. And he's not getting any of your late-night stress-baked cookies for several months. Asshole.

You kick the door again, harder. The wood bends near the bottom from the impact, rattling in the doorframe but otherwise unmoving. Your groan turns into a yell of frustration, punctuated by you hitting the still closed door with both hands. You seriously cannot believe Lando would do this.

"Are you finished?"

Carlos sounds almost amused.

If he hadn't been literally thrown into the room by not just Lando but Max and Alex as well, you might think he's in on this whole scheme. Instead, you just glare at him, irritated that he's so calm while you're both being held against your will.

"Is being made to be near me that horrible?" Carlos says.

"Oh, fuck off."

"You are acting as if they will not have to let us out eventually."

"How long is that going to take? Huh? I don't want to be locked in here for hours. It's actually FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

You're shouting at the door again, hoping your dumbass brother and his stupid fucking friends can hear.

They all better be prepared for the consequences. There's no one better at holding a grudge than you.

You never should have trusted Lando when he had insisted you come to Charles Leclerc’s dumb yacht party. He never wants to be seen in public with you much less all but beg you to attend a party with all his friends who are so much cooler than you because he's an F1 driver and all his friends are, too, and you're just a strategist.

(You never thought that being a trackside strategist at Scuderia Ferrari would be preceded by "just" as though it isn't an impressive feat but with a brother like Lando Norris, nothing you do ever really seems to measure up. You're the reason Lando ever got into racing or F1 in the first place. So really, this is your own fault.)

You give up harassing the door (it locks from the inside so there must be something blocking it in the hallway) and start searching the room for another way out. It's a bedroom, and you're choosing to assume that it just happened to be the easiest place to trap you both and not a purposeful nudge to something untoward. Lando isn't that crude. You think.

After this little stunt, you don't think he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

You start checking all the drawers to see if there's anything useful. You don't actually know what you're looking for. Maybe like a fire axe or a hand saw so you can brute force your way out of here.

"We could talk," Carlos proposes.

"And give Lando what he wants? No, thank you."

"You are so proud. Can we not talk this out?"

"What's there to talk out, Carlos? You dumped me, remember?"

That shuts him up.

You refuse to look at him. Even with your back to him as you search through a completely empty dresser, you can feel the look on his face. Full lips pouting, big brown cow eyes all sad and pitiful. You'd fold like a cheap suit if you saw his pretty eyes right now and you're trying really hard to stay strong and hang onto your anger so you won't give in.

There's nothing in any of the dresser drawers. The nightstands are fruitless, too. The wardrobe houses only empty hangers, and not even the cheap wire ones that could be bent into something useful like a weapon to kill yourself with if things get any more tense in this tiny room.

"I regret it," he says.

You close the wardrobe with a heavy breath.

"I regretted it as soon as I said we should end it."

"Cry me a river, Sainz. Build a bridge. Get over it. You don't get to call me ‘nothing but a distraction’ then tell me you regret it and expect me to forgive you just like that—fuck this. I'm going to swim to shore."

You yank the balcony door open and climb up onto one of the chairs so you can get over the railing.

"Y/N!" Carlos curses in Spanish, scrambles after you and gets an arm around you before you can actually step up onto the railing. "What are you doing?!"

"I just said! I'm going to swim to shore. Let me go!"

Carlos picks you up like a purse dog and carries you back into the room. He stands in front of the balcony door after setting you down, blocking your only escape route.

"You cannot swim to shore. We are miles out of sea!"

"If it gets me out of this room, I'd do it!"

"Can you not just talk to me?"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to!"

"What are you afraid is to happen?"

"I don't have to explain myself. Especially not to you."

So, you don't explain yourself. You walk over to the couch and take a seat, arms and legs crossed, looking anywhere but at Carlos.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date with Carlos last year. You know what you were signing up for. You knew all the judgement would be on you if/when you decided to go public. You knew Ferrari would have many things to say about your relationship, and they did, when you told them earlier in the season before it could potentially get ugly with a reveal from unsasvory sources.

You knew all of that and you went for it, anyway, because could you even call yourself a Norris if you didn't go after what you wanted? You knew what being with Carlos would bring but apparently, you were the only one.

After eleven amazing months together, Carlos got cold feet. You don't know how else to describe it. You had told your family after three months; he'd told his after just one. Everyone was happy for you. Your family loves Carlos, and the Sainz clan accepted you with open arms. You were so happy.

But as your relationship pushed a year, Carlos said you needed to talk, called you a distraction, subsequently hazardous for his line of work, and ended things.

Did you call him an emotionally stunted manchild before storming out of the cafe he asked to meet at? If you did, he surely deserved it.

A few weeks after that, you're where you are now, locked in a bedroom on a yacht while a party rages on several floors above. Carlos says he regrets breaking up with you, that he wanted to take back everything he said, but he already said it and that's how things are now.

You'll not be the girl he comes crawling back to whenever it's convenient for him. If going steady is a hazard for work, then an off again-on again situationship is definitely not OSHA-compliant. You refuse to lower yourself to being a doormat that Carlos wipes his feet on whenever he feels he has the time.

After a while of standing guard at the balcony door, Carlos makes a move to sit on the couch with you.

"No," you say.

He halts midstep.

"You can sit on the bed."

Slowly, as though giving you a chance to change your mind, Carlos sulks over to the bed and sits.

He's moving to Williams next year. He has only a handful of races left in rosso corsa. He doesn't know you're sitting on a job offer that could have you following him, a promotion to head strategist at the Oxfordshire team that you can't believe you're actually debating because of your standing with a man.

You've told no one of Williams's proposition. So, you really don't know why you open your mouth to tell Carlos of all people.

"Williams wants me as their head strategist."

He looks up, eyes bright, surprised but excited for you. "What? That is amazing."

"Yeah, I know it is," you say, glaring at him again. "I haven't accepted yet, though."

Carlos is quiet, then carefully says, "Because of me?"

"No," you say because it's just ridiculous for that to be the reason you're holding up contract negotiations, "Yes, because of you. Obviously. I don't want you thinking I'm following you. I'm not. I'm pursuing my career. So, I know that changes you being all regretful. I just want to clarify things before you hear about it from someone else.”

“Why would it change how I feel?”

“Because we’ll still be coworkers next season.”

“That changes it? What does it change?”

Carlos' accent (hot as fuck) and the way he doesn't always say things 100% correct (cute as fuck) are misleading for his actual understanding of the English language. So, you're really not sure what he's getting confused over.

He's leaving. You were supposed to be staying. No longer working together meant no distractions for him until you would meet up at a hotel after a shitty quali and he would fuck the shit out of you. Or something like that.

It'd feel good in the moment but you don't want him for just sex. You don't want casual. You don't want to be a convenient, low-maintenance, not-quite-official girlfriend. You won't do it. No matter how pretty he is.

And his plan to get you back was ruined now that you'd be moving to Williams for next season, anyway.

“I’d not be a distraction if I was staying at Ferrari. Now, we’ll both still be on the same team. Not convenient for you to still be in a toxic work environment, huh? So, you can cut the crap.”

“That has nothing to do with my regret."

"I won't be a casual fuck buddy who you can't stand to be around when it doesn't work for you."

"I never said that!"

He seems genuinely hurt by your implication but you won't fall for it, won't let it deter you.

"It's kind of implied. You know with the whole 'I have to focus on my driving' thing. Like, what the fuck were you doing for the rest of the time we were together? Nothing changed and you suddenly decided it was too much, then you want me back but I ruined that for you. You'll be seeing me next year, too, so don't even bother with the whole regret speech or whatever."

"I—," Carlos starts, then says nothing.

He can't seem to find the words.

"What? Nothing to say? You wanted to talk. Talk."

"If I am in a team with you or not," he says, slow, calculated, "It does not change that I regret what I said."

Carlos takes a second to think before continuing. That's where you two differ.

Carlos has always been incredibly intelligent. You knew he was gorgeous before you had ever met in person but his mind made him appeal even more to you when you first started working trackside last season. Long, intellectual conversations preceded him asking you out after his masterclass in Singapore.

You nearly started foaming at the mouth when he said "it's on purpose" to keeping your brother within DRS to hold off Mercedes. You were ready to jump his bones right then and there in the middle of the team celebration when he asked you to dinner before you flew back to England.

But he was a gentleman. (He didn't fuck you until after your second date, but it was a close thing that first night when you leaned over the center console to kiss him. You'd have ridden him right there in the front seat of that rental car if your idiot brother hadn't chosen then to walk by and make a scene. Kind of a mood killer.)

The two of you both found fascination in the other's way of thinking, Carlos' smooth logic and your chaotic brilliance. He is all thought and few words while you talk and talk until you find your solution.

You always found beauty in the contrast. You balance each other. Simultaneously alike and disimilar. He is someone you saw yourself building a life with. After nearly a year together, those are the kinds of thoughts you start to have about a partner.

"So, you regret it," you gather, "But do you still think I'm a distraction?"

"Of course, you are a distraction. I am in love with you. There is nothing more distracting than that."

You laugh, disbelieving. "You're in love with me but I'm distracting and you can't be with me? Why? Because you love racing more?"

"I was scared. I was stupid. I am stupid. I am."

"Self deprecation won't do you any favors. But, yeah, you are stupid. You're not making any sense."

"I was scared. You were everything I could think of. I thought I could not find a balance between you and racing. But without you, it is even worse. I want you as a distraction. I know that because I have lost you.”

“You haven’t,” you say before your brain even knows what you’re doing. “Not entirely, yet. Maybe… You’re not allowed to do this again. Ever.”

And you’re crying. Of course.

Carlos is at your side in record time, kneeling in front of you, taking immediate advantage of the crack in your defenses. “Never.”

“You can’t do shit like this. You can’t push me aside like I don’t matter. You can’t call me a distraction.”

“You are a distraction. In the best way.”

Unimpressed and wiping your tears, you say, “Wow. You’re such a poet.”

Carlos laughs thickly. “I love you.”

“Ugh, fuck off.”

You’re still wiping at your face. You didn’t cry when Carlos called it quits, refused to let him have any sort of hold over you when he pushed you aside but now, you’re crying. It’s in relief but you still feel your face getting hot from the embarrassment of it.

He knocks your hands aside to cup your cheeks. “You are the love of my life. I will do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.”

“S’not broken. Just bent. Or whatever the saying is. I don’t fucking care—just kiss me.”

Carlos’ “yes, ma’am” is muffled against your lips.

It’s only been three weeks (three and a half but who’s counting) since he last kissed you but it feels like an eternity.

It’s salty from your tears and wet, also from the tears but more from the way you let his tongue into your mouth after probably not enough time has passed. You don’t care. You just want him.

“I love you," you break the kiss to say. "Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"Say it back."

"I love you. I love you I love you I love you."

.

His words jumble between English and Spanish as he kisses down your body.

Your breath catches as he pulls your hips further down the cushion you're sat on. Stupid F1 driver muscles. You want to sink your teeth into his bicep, make him walk around with the bruise, a reminder of who he belongs to.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of your pants, looks up for permission. You lift your hips. You've missed what his big brown eyes look like when they're all dark with want.

He pulls your pants and underwear down and tosses them aside, tugging you even closer to the edge of the couch. Your legs part. He puts your knees on his shoulders then finally pushes his face between your thighs.

You let your head fall back as you sigh, probably sounding ridiculous but he's always been good at this.

He had you ride his face one time. He practically had to beg to get you to agree. There was a lot of him gripping onto you, arms wrapped around your thighs and hips to force you to stay in place. He'd kept you there until you couldn't stay upright or fight against his hold, coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with just his mouth.

Then, he'd fucked you until you came for a fifth time. (You tell a guy one time about how your last partner hadn't the patience to get more than one orgasm out of you, and he makes it his life's mission to get three or more every time you go at it. How terrible for you. Ha.)

He eats you out like a man starving, like he has something to prove. To be fair, he does but he's not going to be entirely back in your good graces just because he's helping you get off for the first time in three and a half weeks. This is just extra credit.

One of his hands finds yours. He tangles your fingers and holds your hand as he involves his free fingers in slipping past your entrance. You open up for him with obscene ease, legs falling apart even further.

He fucks you with a single finger slow, slow, slow while his tongue licks languidly at your clit.

"Carlos," you whine his name.

You don't need all the pleasure you already know he's more than capable of giving you. You just need to get off already.

"I will get you there, hermosa," he promises with a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Get there faster; I don't want my idiot brother thinking better of his insane plan and letting us out while you're nose-deep in my cunt."

Carlos huffs a laugh. You can feel the air against where you're wet. It makes you squirm.

Usually, Carlos would tell you to stay still and be patient but seems to think better of it this time. You would probably still do as he says, circumstance regardless, but he doesn't need to know that. He just presses his lips back to your pussy.

He sucks on the hardened little bundle of nerves at the joint of your labia just how he knows will make you go limp and needy. He pushes a second then a third finger into you, the stretch just that much more than you can manage with your own, smaller digits.

You could've gotten it with the neglected dildo that lives somewhere mostly forgotten in your closet. There was something that felt so final about bringing out the toy you haven't needed since that second date. Thankfully, you still don't need it. You should consider just pitching it, at this point.

You push your hand through Carlos' hair, brushing the ridiculously perfect locks off his forehead so you can watch his stupid, beautiful face as he goes down on you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," you praise.

His dark eyes flicker up to you, exhaling against your exposed cunt and shifting his knees on the floor.

You're sure if he had a hand free, he'd be palming himself over his pants. He gets off on you getting off and praise goes straight to his dick. You've got this fantasy of making him come completely untouched but you might need to do actual research on that before it becomes a reality.

He sticks his tongue down with his fingers, lapping at your hole and spitting your wetness onto your clit just because it's hot. Like the way he's slobbering over you isn't enough to make the glide of his tongue over your clit smooth and delectable.

"Come on, baby. Don't tease. Not now."

Carlos makes this little displeased noise in the back on his throat.

Quickies aren't really in Carlos' sexual vocabulary. He occasionally likes it as rough and fast as the next dick-haver but he's more of a spread you open and make love to you for hours at a time kind of guy.

He took you to a secluded little cabana in Mallorca for a week during summer break specifically so you two could spend days on end doing nothing but loving on each other. Then, he took you to meet his family and you had to pretend like you hadn't spent the majority of the week prior with their golden child's dick or fingers or tongue inside of you.

Currently, you're just wanting to find relief without Lando or some other F1 driver walking in on you first.

"Carlos, baby—please."

Carlos likes when you play nice. When you're so desperate for it that your bossy exterior goes away. You tell yourself that you exploit this because your unending pride doesn't like the alternative that you really just are that desperate for it.

He finally starts to finger bang you properly. Combine that with the obscene slurping sounds he's making against your clit and the lack of action for nearly a month and no one could really blame you for not taking long to hit your high.

Heat curls and explodes in your gut and up your spine, back arching, lungs gasping, Carlos' name falling from your mouth as your thighs try to close around his head. He gets his elbows up to hold your legs open. His fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm. He pulls his other hand free of your grip to massage your clit with his thumb, kissing your thighs, pubes, stomach.

He captures your lips in a kiss while you're still riding it out. It's intense and leg-shaking after so long without, emotion-driven, which is the best kind but not worth it after knowing what the fear of losing him is like. You can hardly kiss him back, face pulled in pleausre, moans spilling past your lips that Carlos swallows unburdened.

You tuck your face into his shoulder as he drags it out just to the precipice of overstimulation. You tug him into you, arms around his shoulders, fingers tugging the hair at the base of his skull. He lets his fingers rest inside of you, rests that thumb against your clit so he can hold you back with one arm, at least.

You just breathe for a moment, composing yourself where he can't see your face. The worst may be over but the level of trust you'd built over months together would not be so easily reinstated. He'd have to work hard for that, much harder than a sinlge mind-blowing orgasm.

"Don't leave me," you say in a whisper. "You can't, okay?"

"I won't."

"Promise."

"I promise I will not leave you again. I am the most dumb man if I lose you another time. I will deserve it, then."

"Be smart, then. Like I know you have the capacity to be."

Carlos pulls his fingers out. He catches your shiver, still wrapped up in his one arm. He kisses your cheek before finding something to clean his hands with. You've pulled your pants back on when he's finished.

"Likelihood someone heard us?" you prompt.

"Heard you, you mean?"

You kick at him as he comes back over to you. "Watch it."

He tucks you against his side once he's sat. "Scale?"

"One to a hundred."

"90, at least."

You smack his chest. "Dick."

"You are very loud, mi amor. You talk so much, and you make such pretty noises."

"Don't insult me immediately after I've forgiven you."

You've not drawn away from him at all. In fact, you've tucked your feet up on the couch to curl into him fully.

Carlos knows this. He presses a kiss to your temple.

"I love you. I am sorry I am so stupid."

"I guess I've just got to have enough brains and beauty for the both of us."

"You have always."

You hide your smile in his chest. He holds your thigh when you put your legs across his lap. Now you've got him back, you want to be as close as physically possible. Whoever first said they want to be inside their partner's skin really gets it.

.

George Russell ends up getting sent to let you two out. Evidently, your brother fled the scene of the crime once the yacht returned to port in the early hours of the morning. He dumped the chore of opening Pandora's box on an innocnet bystander.

"I am so sorry—"

"Oh, clever," you say when you spot the poor Brit, "He sends an uninvolved party to let me out like I couldn't track him anywhere in the world. I've his trainer's phone number and Jon likes me more than him. I am going to beat his skinny little muppet ass. When I find him—"

You trip over the tangle of chairs that had been used to barricade the bedroom door from the outside.

Carlos catches your elbow.

"Amor, it is late," he says. "Sleep, first, hm?"

You relax into his hold a bit, a silent concession. It'll be easier to murder your little brother after a good night's sleep, anyway.

"So, are you two...?" George trails off.

You cut him a glare.

"Nothing. Never mind. Apologies."

He speeds around the two of you and off the boat.

"The 2019 rookies are all terrified of you."

"Good."

Carlos laughs. "I am excited to see what Alex is like with you next year."

You smile.

Next year, you'll still be working with Carlos. It'll be at a different team, a midfielder at best but at least Carlos will still be on the grid. He'll still find increasingly laughable excuses to be in engineering just to see you. He'll still come home to you, the same that you'll come home to him.

A future with Carlos is still in the cards. He'll be damned if he messes it up again, you know that much.

[mattsnight]

Hide it - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: in which Matt hides his feelings for you, but eventually can’t take it anymore.

Warnings: fluff, cursing,

A/N:

Matt couldn’t hide it any longer. He couldn’t hide his love for you. His feelings were hard to control when you were around. It was sickening. He didn’t say anything about it, because he didn’t want to hurt you or ruin the friendship you guys have. It was too important for, but he also couldn’t stuff his feelings away any longer. He was in love with you and that was a problem.

Every time you hang out with Nick Matt’s in the room. He’s always staring at you, but when you turn to look at him he quickly turns away. You didn’t think much of it, until things changed. Matt started acting weird. He was always stuttering around you and didn’t have proper conversations with you.

You had come to the triplets’ house to make some pictures with Nick. The house was mostly quiet, only soft sounds were heard from Matt’s room. He was most likely playing fortnight. You sat down on the couch, waiting for Nick to return from his room.

“Oh hey y/n..” you suddenly hear a voice say. You look at the figure, it’s Matt. A small smile forms on your face as you wave at him. He freezes at your smile, regretting his decision of coming out of his room. He was already getting nervous at the fact of his crush being infront of him. Suddenly a wave of confidence washes over him. It was now or never. “Y/N i can’t do this anymore.” He says, swallowing.

“Can’t do what?” You ask, looking at him in confusion.

“I-“ he runs his hand through his hair. There’s a moment of silence. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t just say ‘hey im in love with you! Can we make out?’ can he? Another deep breath leaves his mouth as he tries to get himself together. “Fucking hell..” He holds his breath as he looks into your eyes to see any kind of reaction. “Can’t you see how obsessed i am with you?” A surprised sound leaves your mouth. You don’t say anything for a while, surprised by his confession.

“Jesus Y/N, say something please.” He begs. His nervousness gets worse within seconds. Did you hate him now? “I- you like me?” You ask. Realization hits you hard. He actually likes you. Your mind goes blank at the thought, all your thoughts vanishing. He slides both his hands into his pockets, hiding how badly he’s sweating.

“Yes Y/N and im tired of you not noticing! I tried everything to make you look at me, yet it’s not working.” He groans mentally, blaming himself for raising his voice at you. “Sorry… i-“ he starts, but gets cut off when you slam your lips against his. This kiss was everything he needed. Everything he needed to know you had the same feeling about him and it was amazing. It wasn’t passionate, just full of love and desperation.

Your hands slide into his hair, gently pulling at it to get closer. His hands go down your sides, gripping you tightly. You slowly start backing up into a wall, which he does too. Then he pulls back to get some air. You look up into his blue eyes, smiling. He smiles back almost immediately, wiping your hair out of your face. “That was..” he chuckles, still a hit breathless. “So fuckin’ amazing.”

Suddenly you hear a laugh behind you. You turn around to see Nick standing there. He had watched the whole scene and was laughing by it. Matt rolls his eyes, before looking away. “Took you long enough, kid. Will you stop bothering me now you’ve kissed the girl?” Nick smiles, before looking at you. “He wouldn’t stop talking about you. Seriously. It was so tiring.”

A small smile forms on your face. You look at Matt who’s now filled up with embarrassment. “I’ll leave you guys alone. Let’s do the pictures another time, alright?” Nick suggests. You nod, knowing you need time to let this sink in and spend some time with Matt.

This was gonna be great.

no nut november fic 3! I hope yall like this💞 (also i wont be posting as much since i need to learn for assignments and stuff</3)

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Family breakfast

Hii guyss, here's a new one-shot about Toto. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist :)

A quiet morning turns into delightful chaos when you discover your husband and son’s surprise gone awry. This leads to a heartwarming family moment filled with laughter and love.

The first thing you notice as you wake is the stillness. Normally, the house would already be alive with the sounds of your son, Jack, running down the hallway, his little feet pounding against the floor. The absence of that familiar noise pulls you from your dreams. And then it hits you: Toto isn’t beside you either. He always stays a little longer in the mornings, kissing your forehead softly before slipping out of bed. But today, nothing.

You sit up, pushing the blankets aside as you glance at the empty spot beside you, feeling a small pang of curiosity. Throwing on a cozy sweater, you pad down the hallway toward the faint smell of… something. It’s not exactly appetizing, but it is familiar. There’s flour in the air, a hint of chocolate, and unmistakably… burnt something.

Rounding the corner, you arrive at the kitchen doorway and pause, stifling a laugh at the scene in front of you. The kitchen is in absolute disarray: flour streaks cover the countertops, bits of batter have splattered on the walls, and your husband and son are standing there, Jack on his stool next to Toto, both looking down at what appears to be a very charred attempt at pancakes.

They’re completely unaware of you watching them, too focused on the burnt batch in front of them.

“Maybe if we put enough syrup on them, she won’t notice,” you hear Jack say in a serious tone, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he looks up at Toto. Toto raises a brow, giving him a playful smile. “You think that’ll work?”

“Well, it works when you make toast,” Jack whispers back, eyes glinting with the wisdom of his young mind.

You clear your throat, unable to hold back a chuckle any longer, and they both spin around, caught red-handed. Jack’s face lights up in that special way, a smile spreading wide across his cheeks as he shouts, “Mama! We were trying to surprise you!”

Toto laughs, raising his flour-covered hands in surrender. “Our plan may not have gone exactly as we hoped,” he admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Turns out we’re not quite as skilled as you when it comes to pancakes.”

You take a few steps forward, pretending to survey the kitchen with a critical eye, your gaze landing on the plate of charcoal-colored pancakes. “Well,” you say, folding your arms in mock seriousness, “it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Jack laughs, his pride undented as he stands tall on his stool. “I helped with the mixing, Mama! But the flipping is hard.”

Toto nods, pretending to look solemn. “It really is harder than it looks. I think we’re going to need some expert intervention here.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, feigning skepticism. “Do you think you two can handle working as my assistants?”

Jack nods so vigorously his little curls bounce. “Yes, yes! I’ll mix it all again!”

You smile, grabbing an apron for yourself and tying it around your waist before stepping forward, guiding them both in their roles. Jack is in charge of mixing the batter again, but this time, you make sure to guide him a little more closely. His giggles are infectious as he watches the lumps disappear, proudly showing you his work. Toto tries to take charge of flipping once more, insisting he’s got it this time, only for a pancake to land halfway on the counter, sending Jack into fits of laughter.

Eventually, after much laughter and a few (successful) pancake flips, you plate the perfect stack, golden and warm. You bring it to the table, setting out butter and syrup while Jack bounces over to his spot, already piling syrup on his stack.

You all sit down together, and Jack digs in immediately, a trail of syrup dribbling down his chin as he takes his first big bite. Toto gives your hand a gentle squeeze under the table, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he leans close, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I think next time, we’ll let you be the head chef from the start.”

“Or maybe,” you tease, glancing at the two of them, “we keep it a team effort. But maybe a slightly less… chaotic team effort?”

Jack, overhearing, looks up with a big grin. “Family team!” he declares proudly, raising his fork in a sticky salute. You and Toto laugh, clinking your forks with his in agreement.

The three of you linger over breakfast, taking your time with each bite, sharing stories and laughter as the sun streams softly through the kitchen windows. There’s something magical about this moment, the simplicity of syrup-sticky hands and flour-dusted counters. Sitting here with Jack’s joyful giggles and Toto’s quiet warmth beside you, you can’t help but feel a deep, overflowing gratitude for mornings like this—messy, beautiful, and shared with the two people who mean everything to you.

[cheemscakecat]

Saw this and thought about normalbob Fidds, lol.

But in all seriousness, I bet there’s some really interesting timeline differences with everyone’s character development in the Better World.

I think prolonged Stanley exposure would bring out the southern sass that younger Fidds has deep inside. We love Stan, he probably was the one who called Mcgucket out to get him to give up on the memory erasing cult, but sometimes he needs someone to call him out too.

Example:

“That’s when possum breath over here showed up leading a bunch of injured stragglers through the forest.”

The only reason our Fiddleford didn’t answer him back was because there’s too many people depending on the shack for shelter. If they weren’t hiding from monsters [and surrounded by children] he would have said something. For sure.

He did not go out into them flaming woods leading injured children around just to get disrespected. This isn’t a “I’m too scared to say anything” situation, it’s an “I have the willpower to hold my tongue and be the bigger person” situation.

Point being, I headcanon that b.w. Fidds is still really sweet, but also way more assertive and outwardly sassy when he needs to be. Between giving up the memory gun and living with the twins through Ford’s crisis, he learned how.

Like, our Ford started complaining about Stan and b.w. Mcgucket hit him with the

Parallel!Fiddleford is what happens when Ford finally takes the farm out of him.

hes ruined beyond repair

[sassydefendorflower]

Holy Server B@tman! Fanfic Rec List 2.0

Hello and welcome back to a very special fanfic rec list! 

The members of the amazing Holy Server B@tman! Server are an extremely talented bunch - many great artists and writers together in one place to foster each other’s creativity and joy to participate in fandom.

That has to be celebrated! 

So, please welcome a list of stories our writers loved to create, their very own Greatest Hits!

(please click on your own discretion - you’ll find the appropriate warnings on ao3)

Fujiwhara Effect by byrambles / @byrambles

Fujiwhara Effect: When two tropical cyclones spinning in the same direction pass so close to each other than they begin spinning around a common center. Or: Dick is NOT a fan of Bruce’s new kid (seriously, WHO brings home a new kid weeks after the old one moves out and then doesn’t even have the courtesy to tell – ). When he gets trapped in Gotham by an East Coast hurricane, though, he has to figure out how to be in the same room as Jason without losing it.

byrambles's words: This was so much fun to write! I think it has a sweet mix of angst and fluff — plus a silly little surprise part-way through!

The Lines that Bond Us by canaf_lilah

Reclusive author Bruce Wayne's most recent book, The Bat Man, was a critical success and a mass market flop. As he struggles to make sense of a sequel, he shocks no one more than himself when he brings home recently orphaned Dick Grayson. Bruce could never have predicted the impact on his life - and his writing - the remarkably resilient young acrobat would have. Batman and Robin may only exist on the pages of Bruce's books, but that doesn't stop them from saving the people they touch.

Lilah's words: to me this is by far the best fic I've ever written. I'm determined to finish it one day, but don't be too put off by the incomplete status! It works well as a standalone.

red like blood (they won't wash clean) by silver_the_phoenix

Tim snaps. It's a lot bloodier than he thought it would be.

Silver's words: I started this one because Tim deserves to go a little feral, as a treat; and I finished it because I'm a simp for Good Brother Jason Todd.

Cared For by 1Zukoneedsafamily2 / @trashcollectshere

Jason smirked as he stood over The Replacement. He stroked the feathers of the splayed-out wings, before he gripped a group of feathers and yanked. Not hard enough to pull out feathers but he wanted him awake when the fun started.

Krys' words: also everyone loves a tower fic right???

Brother, Go Find Your Brother by sleepingcreep (JaySgrech) / @misplacedspleen

Brother, go find your brother: A method of finding something lost by attempting to lose something similar in the same way, in the hopes that it gets lost in the same place and both can be found. “You should match, right?” The grin cracked wider as the lanky captor rolled the knife between their fingers, strolling closer to where Tim was pinned to the wall. Jason didn’t comprehend what the creep meant, too focused on trying to pull his hands against the cuffs in the right way to pop his thumb out of place to get free. There are many years of scars between Jason and Tim before they match.

Jay's words: I'm reccing it because I'm proud of how the settings turned out and I think I wrote a unique take on Jason and Tim's relationship

dirt piling up, putting me to bed by rutaceae / @applejee

Jason never imagined that a simple trip to a bookshop could end with him trapped in the basement of a collapsed building with Tim, but you don't often get what you imagined when you live in Gotham.

Luka's words: i’m quite happy with how contained this little fic is (for me); i always wanted to stab someone, and have someone else panic so bad they don’t realise they’re fucked up themself. fun times!!

Do-Si-Do's Churros & Other Curious Things About Love by sElkieNight60 / @selkienight60

Being a beta in a house full of alpha’s is rough. Especially if you’re trying to be heard.

Selkie's words: I like it because I really enjoy reading Platonic Omegaverse stories, and the Batfamily are so unrepresented here, (I say, in the meaning that I simply crave more of them, there are truthfully quite a few out there, but I just enjoy them so much).

Maui Melon Mint by motleyfam / @motleyfam

In the case of Bats vs. Stomach Bug, there can only be one victor.

Motley's words: I had a ton of fun writing from Damian’s POV for a change and letting Alfred wear his sassy pants

Writer's Cellblock by pinstripedJackalope / @the-ghost-of-jason-todd

Mystery writer and father to five, Bruce Wayne has no great fortunes to fall back on. No reserve of social charisma, no family jewels. He no longer has a butler, though Alfred does his best to visit regularly. He is, in short, not the kind of man who can buy freedom. Heck, he can barely make ends meet some months. So you can understand the… concern… he feels when, late one night, two FBI agents come knocking at his door.

K's words: ngl it was hard to pick a fic, and i would have picked one with more than one chapter but i always did think this one was kind of fun

Golden Silence, Golden Yolks by BabblingBookends / @babblingbookends

Words between Dick and Bruce have never been easy. Dick talks, Bruce doesn’t listen. Bruce talks, Dick is expected to listen. Better if neither of them speak at all.

Babbles' words: If you watch a TV show for long enough, there will inevitably be some character moments in a diner, and I just think that's fun, hence this fic!

keep your head up (it's a cruel world) by lookforanewangle / @lookforanewangle

“If the past is anything to go on, sir,” he says kindly, “this boy will be in your care for a good many lifetimes, and you will do all you can to keep him safe, just like you have with the others.” Or, the Batfam/The Old Guard reverse verse au with Dick's introduction to the world of immortals

Lyss' words: I put a lot of work into this one and while I know reverse verse isn't everyone's cup of tea, I think it works best in this universe in this order, with many surprises yet to come, and room for this universe to grow!

A Promise to Stay by xerzi / @xerziartblog

No one needed Tim Drake, but Tim Drake still needed to be needed. And well, who better to choose than the one person who could never stop needing him? So inherently broken that his job would never be finished. Yet so unfortunately resilient that he would never be left the sole survivor. And so desperate to serve that he would never be betrayed again. In other words, no one else needed Tim Drake, but certainly, he knew there was someone who could make use of his particular skill set. - Tim Drake, 12-year-old independent adult, professional birdwatcher, is offered everything he’s ever wanted…for the low, low price of his verbal agreement. All he has to do is say yes.

Xerzi's words: I just want to put Tim Drake in a jar and try to figure out what's wrong with him…so I put TWO Tim Drakes in the same jar so they can work together to figure out what's wrong with them (and how to fix it)

The End of Man by AuroraKant / @sassydefendorflower

Dick Grayson wasn’t meant to be caged in, but then again… Dick Grayson wasn’t a murderer, and look at him now. (was this what insanity felt like?) Dick Grayson gets captured, forced to shift, and put into a cage - surely, this is the worst that can happen?

Aurora's words: Look... I always wanted to write a deranged Shifter AU in which Dick Grayson goes absolutely mental. What can I say? I love it when my boy is broken and covered in blood <3

Catching Stars and Comets by Faeriekit

From this tumblr prompt: "Reverse Robins AU but instead of making Damian oldest and going down the line so on and so forth, it’s a bunch of assembled weird vigilante-crime men and their accidentally adopted autistic eight year old rich boy, Bruce, who calls himself “batkid” for reasons beyond their mutual understanding of expected kid behavior."

Faeriekit's words: it's been a fun AU to work on, I hope people enjoy it, also it's got kids. It's basically an ageswap!AU where all the batkids are "villains" without Bruce's influence. And it was either this fic or the bees.

cardboard box by A_Canceled_Stamp / @a-canceled-stamp

Robin!Tim is exposed to Ivy's cuddle pollen. For the first time, he reaches out to Bruce for help. How he wishes he hadn't.

Stamp's words: this is my first hurt/no comfort fic and I am very happy with how it turned out! The comments I've gotten on it always make me cackle lmao

a flower called you has bloomed by dottie_dc / @dottie-wan-kenobi

The real problem is that, well. Last time Tim went undercover, he kind of… came home and embarrassed himself. It’s not that he’s shy about being seen in disguise, okay? They can all tease him all they want but it doesn’t bother him. He has way more blackmail on his siblings than they do him, so whatever. It’s just… Caroline Hill is a different story.

Dottie's words: I saw the inspo art and it gave me immediate motivation to write something, which was really fun. I loved writing it and seeing people in the comments be able to relate. queer headcanons my beloved <3

Of The Covenant by Kgraces / @kgraces

Dick Grayson is many things, and foremost among those, he's a detective. He can't stop himself from noticing things about Tim Drake — things that make him question not only his home life but his relationship with Bruce Wayne, too. (Things spiral from there.)

Gracie's words: I’m gonna toss my current longfic your way so hopefully it motivates me to work on it more lmao. It’s a Dick & Tim fic where Dick basically takes a look at all the adults in Tim’s life and goes “is anyone going to take care of this feral, unsupervised child? No? Guess he’s my responsibility now.”

Now and Then by librarylexicon / @librarylexicon

Dick’s spent the past few months recovering from an ordeal he’d rather not think about, so when Bruce asks him to spend quality time with Tim outside of their masks, he instantly agrees. Amid conversations, itineraries, nightmares, photos, revelations and a whole lot of chocolate, he and Tim navigate the Great Ocean Road—and learn more about themselves and each other along the way.

lily's words: Dick and Tim are my favourite Batboys, so I've been wanting to write a fic about them for a long time, because of their long history and close brotherly relationship in the comics. This story is a love letter to their bond, and I'm very pleased with the way all the emotional whump turned out!

How to tape a card castle by Fleur_de_Violette / @fleur-de-violette

Dick saves the new Robin one day. This is it. This is all. It’s not that he doesn’t want to have a relationship with Jason, it’s just that it’s too complicated. He doesn’t know how to deal with being an adult on top of being Nightwing. He can’t deal with Jason, with what Jason represents, on top of it. Except, when a small injury doesn’t heal up the way it’s supposed to, he ends up being the one who needs saving and he’s finally forced to face the new Robin.

Violette's words: This is my longest published fic so far ! I really enjoyed writing it, both the Robin Jason and Dick part and the little case stories in between and I'm happy about how it turned out!

See You At Your Worst by wildsofmarch / @wildsofmarch

Dick has only been a mob enforcer for six months, but delivering a shipment of guns to an up-and-coming crime lord in Gotham should have been easy. All he needs to do is win the man's trust and secure him as a repeat customer. Unfortunately, the Red Hood is not impressed with him.

Wilds' words: I like this one because I go ham with the identity porn!

The Nature of Things by FidotheFinch / @fidothefinch

After a mission gone wrong and a spat with Drake, Robin is benched. Worse than that: Damian is grounded. As serendipity would have it, it gives Damian the opportunity to facilitate the rehabilitation of the manor's new ward, a dog Batman rescued from a fighting ring.

Fido's words: I got to memorialize pieces of my childhood pups in this story, and it was my first fic in the fandom

in vitro by genericlesbian72 / @femmescooter

Shadow-girl did not know much. She didn't need to. But she knew her first kill would be for the baby.

Hedgehog's words: This fic was a challenge to myself on how Cassandra would view her first kill, without words to describe it, while also a take on ‘joining the Batfamily early’ for her that I haven’t seen much before.

this one takes the cake by carol_in_au / @carol-in-au

Jason took a sip from his glass, slowly, synching it with Bruce's words. Bruce cleared his throat, and continued with an authoriative tone that was so not him. "I have something to announce." Bruce Wayne has an announcement to make

Chrys' words: It's fast-paced, has a good comedic timing, a bit of fluff in some moments. When I reread it, I found it pleasant to read and I was quite happy I created it

presumptions by Valkirin / @valkirinii

Batman is away on a long mission with the Justice League when Red Hood attacks Robin in Titans Tower. Red Hood thinks that hurting Robin will get Batman's attention. He doesn't expect Nightwing. Nightwing doesn't know what to expect from Red Hood, Gotham's newest rogue.

Trixie's words: It's one of my favorites that doesn't seem to get as much attention. It's also really fun to let Dick Grayson be angry and intimidating.

Operation Friendship Helmet by goldenraeofsun / @raeofsoleil

When Red Hood meets Dick, he seems almost friendly, compared to the violent hostility he showed Batman and Robin. Maybe, if Dick plays his cards right, he can turn Red Hood from a crime boss to a vigilante. But the closer he gets to Hood, the question nags louder and louder: why does Red Hood seem so familiar?

Rae's words: This is the first time I really dove into my favorite trope, secret identities, complete with a big reveal at the end.

Roadtrip to Nowhere by Ghxst_Bird / @ghost-bxrd

“For the last time, I’m not modifying a car we’ll be ditching a few towns over.” “Why, you got better things to do?” “Yeah, getting food on the table, you leech.” Jason goes on an impromptu road trip with an ex-Talon and ends up running into a family member… who still thinks he’s dead. Oops.

Ghost's words: Calvin Rose deserves more love in this fandom!

Q is for Quintessential by writergeek / @writergeek

"Rodney...you're talking about altering the timeline here." Well...yeah. Wasn't that the point? "...I want you to have a backup plan." Of course he had a backup plan. At this point he could probably list them all by alphabetical order. Or...the story of the backup plan(s) Rodney never wanted to use to save 12 days 25 years 48000 years mankind.

WG's words: not a DC fic, it actually comes from my old fandom, SGA. i just... i enjoy the time loop shenanigans and the fixit nature of it (which needs fixing only bc i broke it shush), both tropes i adore reading (and writing, apparently)

Leaving The Light by TheCallOfTheSea

Jason is alive, but he has fallen. Can the Batfamily save him?

M&M's words: I enjoyed exploring Jason as a villain, but it wasn’t easy writing relentless angst! I still brought out his humanity in a way.

closet space by adelfie / @adelfie

“Hi,” she says in a breathless rush, then takes a moment to swallow and wet her lips. “I, uh, need your help?” “Are you dying?” “N-not exactly.” “Then you don’t need me,” comes Jason’s lazy, uninterested reply. The call ends with a click. . Steph doesn't know what's more embarrassing: that she's been locked in a closet during a party, or the fact that her "friends" aren't really her friends. And to top it all off, Jason's the only one who can come rescue her.

adelfie's words: I love that Steph isn't fighting a big bad villain -- there's something so soft and strong in realizing that other people's judgments aren't what truly matter.

penance by cuephrase / @cuephrase

After Tim dies, his soul remains stuck as a ghost at the Manor. Forced to watch Dick and Bruce grieve him and unable to do anything, the only thing making the afterlife bearable is Jason. Until the day his ghost departs.  Tim assumes that Jason has passed on. But then the Red Hood breaks into the Cave. And for the first time, someone can see Tim.

Cue's words: i just had an inordinately fun time writing it!! there was a lot of catharsis in the process, and i’m very proud of the ending because i feel like i was able to preserve the fic’s bittersweetness- like the happy ending didn’t dilute the sorrow and instead they were able to complement each other

two vigilantes carry a cake across gotham by JBS_Forever / @jbsforever

In a scheming attempt to make them bond, Bruce forces Jason and Tim on what should be a simple quest: retrieve Alfred’s birthday cake from across town and make it back before the party. But this is Gotham. And nothing is ever simple in Gotham.

JBS' words: it's a story that centers around jason learning just how much crime alley appreciates him. it's also a sibling bonding fic between jason and tim

Ghosts From The Past by red_jaebyrd / @red-jaebyrd

Tim stared at an old poster of the ‘The Flying Graysons’ and his stomach dropped. He immediately fixated on the young boy’s smiling face with his eyes bright and full of life; frozen in time in eternal happiness. It was such a sharp contrast to the last memory Tim had of the youngest Grayson laying broken and still on the circus floor. Tim sighed. He wasn’t just at any old circus. He was back at Haly’s Circus where his nightmares had started and never really stopped. Or Bruce is Ghost Hunter and takes Jason and Tim with him to investigate strange happenings at Haly's Circus.

Jae's words: I wanted to try and write my own version of a no capes au adding in my own lore about the characters and their new world.

sons of sky by ScarlettSwordMoon, Kiwilart / @kiwilart

Dick is thirteen, leader of the Teen Titans, and already starting to chaff under Bruce’s thumb. When Bruce gets de-aged to fourteen, Dick thinks this experience will finally bring their partnership back to working order. It doesn’t. And then it does.

Scarlett's words: This fic has challenged me in so many fun directions. It is terrifying and exhilarating to write young!Bruce and to really try my hand at a big novel length plot line. Of all my WIPs, this is the most fun to work on because I'm working with an artist, Kiwili, who supports me during the loneliest parts of the drafting process, and also draws amazing art for the fic. I'm very proud of what we've done so far and very excited to be close to finishing.

we'll meet again some sunny day by Ms_Trickster / @ms-trickster

When Talia rests a hand atop her bed, the sound of paper crunching beneath it fills her ears.

Missy's words: Talia is a character that deserves a lot more depth and affection and it was a blast to write a story in which she is loved.

[dinodaweeb]

Living with a gangster

Mafia man x Gn!Reader

Summary: moments in your life when your weirdo of a boyfriend gets you both in the most randomness possible scenarios. You love him though

a/n: ummm ummm writing for now bc my Apple Pencil broke so yeah!!

You’re on the couch, unwinding after a long day. The soft hum of the TV fills the room as you kick your feet up, enjoying a rare moment of peace. That peace shatters the moment your boyfriend walks through the door, looking like he’s been through hell and back.

There’s even stains on his white pants. Gross.

Bruised, bloodied, and entirely too proud of himself, he barges in with a grin plastered on his face. “I brought you something,” he says, and there’s a certain cockiness in his voice that you’ve come to expect from him.

You turn to look, already knowing whatever he’s holding will be ridiculous. “What is it?”

You ask, trying to suppress the exhaustion from your voice.

With a flourish, he reveals a ragged, battered stuffed bear. Its fur is matted, and there’s a stain that could be blood—or maybe it’s just the bear’s battle scars. One of its eyes is hanging by a single thread.

“A battle bear,” he announces proudly.

You stare at it for a beat. “A what?”

“A battle bear. I had to fight a bunch of idiots to get it. It was a whole ordeal, but I thought you’d want it.”

You blink, deadpan. “So you got into a fight for a stuffed animal?”

“Yup,” he says, a little too smug for someone who just looked like they were hit by a bus. “It’s yours now. For protection, obviously. You’ll be safe with this thing. Like a bodyguard, but fluffier.”

You glance from him to the bear. “This thing looks like it’s seen better days. What kind of fight were you in?”

“It’s fine. Just a little blood. Nothing serious,” he assures, his grin widening. “So? Do you love it?”

You pause, still eyeing the mangled bear. “Sure, I guess. I don’t know if it’ll protect me, though. It looks like it’s seen as much action as you.”

He flops onto the couch next to you, snatching up the bear. “It’s a symbol of my dedication. Don’t downplay it.”

“You could do anything with it cry with it, cuddle, feed it, maybe even tell it about how much you love!”

“Nice try.” It’s just a thought but you are thinking he’s going to be the one to do those things.

It’s been a long day, and you were hoping for some peace. You’ve barely sat down on the couch when your boyfriend bursts in, completely out of nowhere, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I missed you!” he exclaims, then immediately starts some unholy combination of spinning, hopping, and awkward flailing. His hips are nowhere near Shakira’s level of shaking.

He’s rattling like a broken supermarket cart.

You stare at him, eyebrows raised. “What in the world are you doing?”

“This is my I missed you dance,” he says, spinning once again like he’s in some bizarre action movie. “It’s a tradition now. Every time I come home, I perform it to show my appreciation for you.”

You blink. “A dance?”

He nods, still twisting around, his limbs making chaotic, out-of-rhythm movements. “Yup! It’s a way of showing how much I care about you.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say dryly, eyes narrowing as you watch him crash into the coffee table, almost toppling over the lamp. You can’t help but let out a sigh. “Are you done yet?”

He doesn’t answer, too busy still trying to perfect whatever this is. His leg kicks too high and knocks into the side of the bookshelf. He spins again, only to hit his elbow on the doorframe.

“You’re really not helping your case here,” you mutter, leaning back. “How exactly am I supposed to take you seriously when you’re like this?”

With a grunt, he halts his movements, standing tall like he just finished a perfect performance. “I’m a dangerous man, babe. Nobody could top this move.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “You’re a mess.”

He grins like he won the lottery. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You walk through the door after running a simple errand. But as soon as you step inside, you’re met with your boyfriend standing in the living room, hands on his hips, wearing a look of complete panic.

“Where have you been?” he demands, voice high and tight with concern. “I’ve been worried as shit.. Do you know how long it’s been? What if something happened to you? Like if a Mario cosplayer asked for your number? Or if my boss figures out we make passionate love in ghost face costumes?”

You stop dead in your tracks, surprised by the sudden wave of intensity. “I was gone for two hours. I was grocery shopping,” you say, already regretting not texting him sooner.

His expression doesn’t change. “Two hours? That’s two hours I had no idea where you were! You could’ve gotten hurt! Kidnapped! I could have sent the team after you!”

You blink, trying to process his frantic words. “It was just the store. I’m fine. I didn’t even leave the neighborhood.”

“But what if something happened?” He’s pacing now, completely ignoring the fact that you’ve been walking around the block for the last hour. “You could have been in danger, and I wouldn’t have even known! What if the old man that looks like Santa Claus down the steep seduced you?”

“What—“

“And was successful. Who am I to Santa? Nothing but a little elf whore…”

“Um.”

“Actually fuck Santa. He ain’t shit.”

“Okay.”

“Anyways, Do you want me to hire bodyguards?”

“I’m not a delicate flower,” you say, trying to stay calm. “You don’t have to act like I’m going to break if I leave for an hour.”

He stops pacing, suddenly pulling you into a tight hug, his arms firm but careful. “I know, I know. You once broke my back when we were roleplaying WWE. And in be—“

“Oi.”

“Besides! You’re my responsibility. I need you safe.”

You sigh, your annoyance melting away as his possessiveness becomes more endearing than aggravating. “You’re a freak, you know that?”

He smiles into your shoulder, his tone softened. “And you match it~”

You couldn’t deny that.

You’re lounging on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you hear the front door open. Your boyfriend walks in, holding two absurdly oversized leather jackets with a grin that suggests he’s up to no good.

“Guess what I got!” he announces.

You glance at him, already sensing where this is going. “What now?”

“Matching jackets,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just spent way too much money on something totally unnecessary.

You look at the jackets, confused. “Those things are huge. They’ll swallow me whole.”

“Nonsense!” He’s practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s part of the look. Look how badass we’ll look together. We’ll be like this power couple!”

You pull the jacket on, and it nearly engulfs you. You feel like you’re drowning in leather, and you can barely move your arms.

You glance at him. “This is a terrible idea. I can’t even lift my arms.”

He looks at you with a deadpan stare. “Exactly. That’s the point. We’re untouchable.”

You sigh, crossing your arms, trying not to let the ridiculousness of the situation break your composure. “You realize we’re going to look like two absolute try-hards?”

“Nope.”

He shrugs, unfazed. “I look hot. You look hot. Who cares about looking normal when you look cool?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “We look like walking couches.”

It happens when you’re having an absolutely normal movie night. Popcorn, blankets, a chilled drink. Everything’s perfect. And then, in the middle of a dramatic scene, your boyfriend suddenly turns to you with a completely straight face.

“I killed someone today,” he says, his voice holding the same tone if he just did a wet fart. “45 years old. Kids. Pretty tragic, actually. But he had it coming. I mean he did—”

You freeze, popcorn halfway to your mouth. “Wait. What?”

He shrugs, clearly uninterested in your reaction. “Yeah, I mean, he was a threat. Had to be dealt with. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Are you… are you serious?” You blink rapidly, your mind struggling to catch up with what you just heard.

“Yeah, well, that’s gang life for you.” He leans back, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth like he’s just told you about his day at the office. “It’s not all fun and games, y’know.”

You can’t form a coherent response, too shocked by the casual way he talks about murder. “You just… killed someone. And then sat down to watch a movie?”

He glances at you, unphased. “Yeah, and? We were supposed to watch this, right? Can we watch breaking bad next? Bald Walter is spank bank material.”

“Um ew.”

“Just don’t sweat the small stuff, babe.”

You stare at him in silence for a moment, the absurdity of the situation slowly sinking in. “You are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks. I try.” He says it so casually, then immediately falls asleep like it’s just another day.

What the hell.

[whumpyourdamnpears]

Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter Ten

Content Warning: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, POC whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump (Christianity), captivity whump, non-con drugging, brief suicidal ideation

Thank you to Marz for beta reading this chapter

Word Count: 1833 Previous Next

“I come bearing gifts,” the man said the next time he entered the room. Dani watched, bleary-eyed, as the man approached her, holding a single plastic water bottle, its contents sloshing as he moved.

“I thought you said gifts,” she mumbled as he crouched down in front of her, stretching out her arm to take the bottle from him.

“Be grateful you get even this much.” He reminded her, passing the bottle off to her. Dani took the bottle, moving it from side to side the second it entered her hand. The way the water moved about the bottle quickly enraptured her rapidly drying out brain.

“You gonna drink it or what?” The man asked.

Dani didn’t hesitate before unscrewing the top of the water bottle and pouring its contents down her throat. She left a little bit of it to swish around in her dry mouth, begging for it to sink into her gums and tongue for some much-needed moisture.

The man chuckled and nodded as Dani downed nearly the entire bottle. “I’d apologize for not getting you water sooner, but we both know water opens up the flood gates for further needs, and besides, watching you when you finally get it is a whole lot more fun this way.”

“Oh, I bet,” Dani snapped, rolling her eyes.

“I have to say, though, the crankiness is not my favorite.” He told her in a warning tone of voice. Dani decided not to press, instead looking down at the bottle in her hand.

The man looked at her, expecting. “Don’t you have anything else to say to me?”

Motherfuck— “Thank you.” Dani muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

The man smiled, his lips curling in on themselves. “You’re most certainly welcome, darlin’.”

She hated him. Hated him.

“Did you know it’s been almost a week since you’ve been here?” The man asked her. Dani shook her head. Admittedly, she’d lost count of the days when the hunger began to hit. “Today’s your seventh day.”

Seven days. How had it only been seven days?

Seven days without food, or consistent access to water. Seven days of being forced to interact with this fucking freak. Dani couldn’t help the way her eyes bugged when she inhaled. Seven days into however much longer there was of this. Should she start counting down the days until he eventually got sick of her and ended things? Was he beginning to get sick of her already? He had given her water this time, unprompted. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

Did she even want it to last much longer than this?

The man began pacing around the room, inspecting the books and knick knacks that rested on the higher shelves. Dani watched him, confused. “What are you doing?” She asked as she watched him lift up a paperweight from one of the shelves above her.

“Just waiting,” he hummed. “I need to take care of a few more things before we leave, but have to wait to get some of them done.”

Dani perked up, nearly hitting her head on the shelf above her. “Leaving? We’re leaving? Leaving for where?”

“No, my daughter and I are leaving.” The man said. “You, darlin’, are staying here. I can’t trust you not to make a mess of things while we’re out and about yet.”

Dani deflated. “Oh.”

The man laughed. “Did you seriously think I’d bring you anywhere in this state? With your behavior? Come on, now. You should know better than that.”

Dani squirmed in her seat. “Where are you going?” She asked.

“That,” the man fiddled with the cuffs of his flannel. “Is for me to know.” He glanced down at her, smirking. “You’ll get to know soon enough.”

Huffing, Dani began to crinkle the water bottle in her hand, eliciting a pained look from her captor. “I’d argue I’ve been very well-behaved.”

“Oh, would you? I think the bruise on my shin would beg to differ.”

Dani smiled to herself. “It bruised?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be too proud of yourself. May I remind you of what that little choice got you?” He gestured over to the unused bedpan.

For a moment, the world began to blur. Dani quickly blinked the blurriness away. An unwanted side effect of the hunger she experienced, no doubt. Groaning, Dani rubbed her head. “And how long are you guys going to be gone for?” She asked.

“Until later tonight. I don’t trust you to be by yourself for that long.”

“Wow, thanks for that show of confidence.” Dani remarked sarcastically. Her head felt weird, fuzzy, even. Despite the length of time without food, she hadn’t felt anything like this since…

“Did you give me something?”

The man stopped, turning to finally face her. “Give you what?”

Dani didn’t respond, instead choosing to give him a knowing look.

The man crouched down and held out his hand. “If you don’t want the water, I can just take it back.”

Dani sheltered the bottle with her body. Despite its near emptiness, she did not want to part with it. It was, after all, her only source of water. “Never mind,” Dani mumbled, curled around the bottle.

The man hummed, nodding his head and standing up from his crouch. “Then don’t complain. What you get is what you get.”

And you don’t get upset. Suddenly, memories of her mother saying exactly that flooded to the forefront of Dani’s mind. It almost made Dani teary-eyed to think of her, of what she must be doing now that her daughter was gone, in some reclusive older man’s remote cabin in the woods.

Almost.

So, they continued on, the man with his pacing, Dani with nursing the water bottle and her headache, which was slowly worsening. Eventually, it got to the point where Dani started to find it hard to stay sitting up, so she pushed herself up against the bookshelf to keep herself upright.

The man watched as she did so. “How are you feeling?” The man asked, scrutinizing her.

“Fine,” Dani began to slur. Definitely not normal. She glared at the man as the world began to get blurry again.

He gave her a little smirk in response. “Did you really think I’d just leave you to your own devices while we were gone? You could get into some serious trouble with us not here to stop you.”

Dani could distantly feel her body begin to slide off the bookshelf as he went on, slinking down towards the floor.

“It’ll only last for a few hours. We should be home by the time it wears off. For now, though,” the man bent over and pet Dani’s head as she finally slid all the way down onto the floor. “You’ll just have to take a nice little nap until we return.”

“Fuck you,” Dani slurred as she fought to keep her eyelids from sinking shut.

���Goodnight,” the man drawled as he walked away from her and approached the doors to the study. When the door opened and the man slipped out was when Dani finally allowed her eyes to close.

———

The room is dark when Dani awakens. She stares at the ceiling as the room begins to come back into focus. Rolling onto her side slowly, Dani looked to the doors. The lights were off on the other side, too, and there was no movement. Groaning, Dani rubbed her head as she came to.

She was alone. Really, truly alone, for the first time in days. Sitting up, her head spun, but she stayed up, and that’s what matters. Looking around, Dani verified she was alone before turning to the bookcase behind her. He deserves this, Dani thought to herself as she stretched to pull a book off of the shelf. She turned to a random page before gripping the edge of said page and tearing. The page ripped from the spine, fluttering down from the book to the floor. It felt good. Dani ripped another one out. And another. She kept ripping until a small, folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

Dani stared at the folded up piece of paper, perplexed. Her mind was still muddy from whatever was in her water, but she still knew that the folded piece of paper tucked into the book was not part of the book’s binding itself. It could be nothing, Dani thought to herself. It could just be annotations, or an old flyer used as a bookmark. It could be nothing. Still, her hand reached out for the paper, anyways, and reverently unfolded it to find a few nicely written words written out in pencil on the page.

Dear Whoever Comes Next, the paper read. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry?

The writing continued. That’s all I really have to say to you. I’m sorry he took you. I’m sorry he made you his. And I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The letter went unsigned. Dani stared down at the paper, the words staring right back up at her. Before she could even think about what she had just read, a rumbling sounded from outside the cabin, getting louder and louder before stopping abruptly, headlights shining through the windows and the glass study doors. They were home, and there Dani sat with evidence of snooping around in her lap. She quickly scrambled to grab all of the ripped up pages and shove them back into the book, letter included, and then slammed the book shut, shoving the book back onto the bookshelf before the front door to the cabin swung open. Dani laid back down before the two of her captors could see she was awake, turning her back to the doors so they couldn’t see her face.

They came in quietly, shutting the door behind them. One set of footsteps walked right past the study, followed by a small thud that Dani had come to know as the ladder to the daughter’s room coming down from the ceiling and hitting the floor. The other set of footsteps instead walked right to the study doors, opening them and walking inside.

Dani slammed her eyes shut, hoping that pretending to be asleep would save her the grief of having to talk to the man about his night. The footsteps approached, stopping right behind her. She unintentionally tensed, and hoped that the man wouldn’t be able to tell. Dani could feel as the man moved closer to her, crouching down beside her to inspect her face. She stayed as still as a statue for all of it. All of it, except for when the man moved a strand of hair hanging in Dani’s face to behind her ear. Her face scrunched as she resisted the urge to bite the man’s hand.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” The man said quietly. “See you in the morning.”

As soon as it was safe to, once the man was long out of the room, Dani finally allowed herself to shudder.

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @deluxewhump, @another-whump-sideblog, @pigeonwhumps, @lektricwhump, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees, @sowhumpshaped, @dietofwormsofficial, @starsick1979

[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.

[bruceburgdorf]

Krebs is threatened with the Pencils of Doom

The Fall of Berlin (1950)

[bitchthefuck1]

It's kind of funny that Kendall and Shiv are both equally delusional about their ability to charm people for business and somehow think they can do it even though they choke almost every single time, whereas it's like the one thing Roman is consistently good at despite being the "least legitimate" option.

I think part of this comes down to the fact that Shiv and Kendall both have very clear ideas of the versions of themselves they're trying to be and the images they're trying to project, and they're trying so hard to be seen that way that they end up coming off as a little desperate and off-putting. Meanwhile Roman "knows" that there's something wrong with him and he's worthless, so he doesn't get sucked into the trap of trying to force people to see his idea of himself and instead molds himself into whatever he thinks the other person wants from him because that's the only way he can compensate for "being him," which works very well in the short term but also means he's the least capable of maintaining any relationship for very long because he has no sense of self.

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[laufire]

it really is a pity that, between what little I've seen, and what I already know of steph/tim going forward (in both continuities), it's... not gonna be my cup of tea. because I have to say, their first meeting? REALLY works for me lmao.

[anotherpapercut]

my throat fucking hurts from yelling at my coworker today bc he wouldn't stop acting like the elementary schoolers

[mycological-mariner]

I’m gonna be seeing my little brother for the first time in years in a couple of weeks and we’ve been talking and I mentioned reading The Worst Journey and mentioning Scott to which my brother said “Oh yeah, didn’t they name a ship after him? And it was special made for going to the Antarctic or something? It’s got a penguin painted on it.” I am DELIGHTED by this news of a giant penguin and my brother sends me a photo he took of the Scott last time it was in harbour and INDEED THERE IS A LARGE PENGUIN PAINTED ON IT. We’re obviously going to try and see if it’ll be in harbour when he’s here so we can go visit and see the penguin.

[glitter50000]

SaB season 2 spoilers (in the tags as well)

Kirigan’s grisha army watching him kill a whole camp with one sweep of the Cut in ep.6

(Vatra, the inferni, straight up saying “it’s like the earth ate them up” after that like damn girl)