#and somehow by some fucking miracle that has worked every time.

[butchdykekondraki]

honestly wild i managed to even have someone as nice as my partner love me in the first place . wild

[eldritch-spouse]

You are running naked in the Jungle, searching frantically.

You look and you see another human, the first one you've seen in months and you run towards them.

“Thank God! Listen, we need to get out of here immediately, it's dangerous! Do you know the way out? Back to civilization?”

You feel a tentacle around your ankles

[Months? Couldn't be me, I'd just die. Let's downsize that to a week. Fem reader.]

TW: Reader has a self-loathing inner monologue; Reader is in a bad place mentally; Dubcon to full consent.

It was a stupid idea.

You knew that when you started it. So did everyone that tried to convince you otherwise. But common sense isn't something that could have stopped someone like you, someone who was ill enough to think taking a break from life in the middle of buttfuck nowhere would work out.

You didn't even have any sort of experience in this type of thing. Neither did you seek any kind of useful tips.

You just wanted to escape.

And you did, literally, into a forested nightmare that you got lost in not even hours after your arrival.

You just wish you could find your car, you just wish you could find somewhere warm and comforting to sleep in.

It's been days. Probably a week by now. Your stuff all disappeared, somehow. You swear you're not tripping, it all just vanished! Your phone, your bag, your keys...

Your back hurts, the nights are cold and humid and you're sure you're getting sick by now. Clean water would be a godsend, you've been drinking and cleaning yourself with some questionable-looking sources for a while. Not to mention you can't feed yourself properly, and you certainly don't know how to hunt.

Not that there's much to hunt. Every time you think you hear a peep, there's a brush of foliage and silence dominates seconds later.

You're going to die.

A horrifying reminder that has your chest pounding painfully and sweat glistening on your forehead.

You don't want to die.

But the modern human wasn't born for the wilderness, and you can only stand being clothed for a little longer before the sensation of being dirty has you clawing the skin off your body.

It was a fucking miracle that you managed to get a small fire going.

Finally.

You can heat up that fish you caught earlier.

If it's still good. Is... This is safe to eat, right?

You lean to sniff at the leaf-wrapped catch.

Eh. You can stomach it...

God, you're starving.

One thing that's been bugging you for a while is how... Deserted this whole place feels.

You're no wildlife expert, but isn't this kind of location supposed to be brimming with animals? Why is it that, everywhere you go, it's mostly just you and insects bumbling around?

Shouldn't there be some mammals here? Some birds? Maybe a squirrel or a snake... Aren't there predators you'd have to worry about in this kind of scenario?

Ironically, being alone makes you feel even more stressed out than if you were constantly surrounded by wild animals.

You huddle closer to the small fire.

Alone.

But always so on edge.

Always getting that tingling feeling crawling up your spine.

The one that screams- Look, look behind you! You're in danger!

The phantom feeling of something hovering behind your neck, goosebumps that hardly fade every time you do turn around to check and find nothing.

Is this a normal amount of paranoia for your situation? Is this your brain trying to cope with the fact that you haven't seen much wildlife so far?

Or is there something watching you from beyond the trees?

Something stalking.

A persistence predator, coming and going, to check on its latest prey.

Oh, and what a catch you are. Big and juicy compared to the things that probably roam this place -Roamed, more like...

Have you wandered into the territory of something that'll inevitably snap its jaws around your neck?

...

Just eat the fucking fish already.

Food.

Focus on the present.

The smell starts to hit your nose. Salt, oh what you wouldn't do for some simple salt. How do people get salt?

You're glad you got some berries along the way too, because this fish is probably going to taste like ass. You're sure they aren't poisonous or anything of the sort. If they are, then you've been eating them for the past few days so honestly you could keel over at any moment.

You'll see.

Once the fish has roasted enough where it's likely safe to consume, you peel it open messily and start munching indiscriminately, ravenous.

It's... Well, it's sustenance.

It's about the most nutritious thing you've eaten since you got here.

This survival thing is harder than the fake actors on TV make it seem.

A sudden crack of a branch has you pausing mid-chew.

You truly feel like a deer when your head snaps up and you stand very still to listen for a follow-up.

Nothing.

Tired eyes strain, trying to make sense of a darkened blob in the distance.

Huh.

What the fuck is that thing?

Tall.

Two legs...

Arms?!

Shit- Could it be?!

That can't be possible, someone else roaming around this maddening forest. Is that a sign that you're somehow getting closer to civilization? That you're making it out by sheer luck? What cosmic force could be on your side this time? Maybe they just live here, like some kind of off-grid retired agent- Okay, you've been watching too many movies.

Without stopping to think twice about frankly important concerns regarding this sudden development, you place the cooked fish down on the leaf it was previously wrapped in and start scooting forward towards the silhouette you saw.

That build can only belong to a man. Well, you assume as much anyway. It's hard to spot more from here, with the foliage covering their form.

" H- Hey... "

You haven't used your voice in a hot minute. Some part of you almost doesn't recognize it. A healthy dose of paranoia stops you from brushing aside the obstacles and facing this person.

But you need to at least try, right?

The worst that can happen is that you really are hallucinating for some reason or another.

With a surge of bravery, but mostly desperation, you push all the branches and greenery away to run towards this person, opening your mouth to greet them, to beg for help, ask for new clothes or just something cooked!

" Hey! Please, I need your... Help? "

Nothing.

There's no one.

But that doesn't make sense, you clearly saw a silhouette, someone was there! You didn't even have to run that far, how could it be that you already lost sight of them? That they could get away so silently?

No. Everything's wrong.

Before you know it, your vision is blurring and your face heats as tears stain your cheeks.

Why... Why would your mind fuck with you like this? Going from a shining shred of hope to complete despair in seconds has you screaming inside.

Why is this happening to you?

Are you really about to die in a stupid fucking patch of nothing just because you can't deal with the stress in your life like a normal person? Just because you made one bad decision when everything was weighing heavy on your conscience? Are you really so incompetent and so pointless as a human that this is how your story ends?

Anger and regret blind you to everything, fingers course through your knotted hair as you sob and tug, having no way to calm yourself and nothing to unleash your tension onto.

The moment you try to stomp your foot in a petulant act, you find it rooted to the ground. It takes a couple more insistent tugs upward for you to realize that something is coiled around it, keeping it firmly planted.

The train wreck of emotions and bile of self-hating thoughts takes a backseat, goosebumps pricking your skin from tip of the head to your very toes. The first thing you think of is some kind of snake, eyes bulging behind digits.

You look down frantically, shaking, but in spite of the sky being clear, all you see is this reddish mass, with neither end nor beginning. What... What the fuck is it?!

The thing tightens around your ankle, starting to slide up the length of your right leg, up to your knee. And immediately, you panic, kicking and shrieking, achieving absolutely nothing and getting promptly tugged to the ground.

Yeah.

Maybe freaking out isn't the best bet for your survival here.

Twigs and dirt get on your face, it takes some coughing and swiping to finally clear your field of view. But honestly...

You almost wish you hadn't.

Curved over your prone figure, staring down, is a creature you have never seen before.

Bipedal and quite large, like the silhouette you had glimpsed before, but so very far from human. The reddish coloration spanning the length of that bizarre body makes him -Because, again, you can only assume that is a male- Look as if he's made of flesh quickly molded together to imitate the figure of a human. What initially made you think he was skinless soon turns into the realization that there was never room for skin anyway.

Because his body is quite literally comprised of what you can only call tentacles. Tendrils and coiling tissue that clings and organizes itself in the vague lie of an organism like yours.

From elbows to fingers and knees to feet, the tendrils become a lot more discernable, coiling and uncoiling while he watches curiously. The thing around your leg is one of said tendrils, coming from the mass forming his own. Along the length of its torso, sharp-toothed mouths form and shift, almost seeming to have a mind of their own as they scent the air and snap at nothing.

That head has got to be the most striking feature. It's an amalgamation of tentacles all wrapped around each other, leaving room for an incredibly sharp golden eye to fix you in place. This thing looks like it crawled out of a sleeping ocean, like the roots and vines of an ancient jungle came together to form a totally new an extension of themselves. He looks like he's been sculped from the guts of others yet also composed in a way your mind could never hope to grasp.

Somewhere between trying to determine if you're dealing with an animal or a person, you reach the conclusion that an animal wouldn't stare you down for this long.

An animal would take a couple of seconds to determine if you're prey or predator and act accordingly. He would have snapped your neck or suffocated you like a boa constrictor with those tentacles by now.

And yet, he just stares.

Like you're the strangest creature to ever grace the woods this thing probably calls a home. You're as freaky to him as he is to you, enough so that he seems out of depth on how to proceed.

You stare back.

This has got to be the monster that you saw back there. Watching you. Now that you think about it, maybe this was the reason you'd always have a tingling sensation reminding you that you're not alone. Because he was there all that time, stalking.

Plenty were the moments he could have dug your grave until now. It's strange that he hasn't. Because surely, he's seen how you're failing to adapt to this location. Every step you take, you're stumbling and getting pricked, hungry, thirsty, afraid, disoriented- You're a fish out of water and he could have ended that misery a long time ago.

Odd.

Neither of you move. It blinks, vertically. You blink too.

And then, it makes this chitter.

Wet, like a gargle, followed by some kind of rumbling as more of those tendrils that form his limbs unwind, explore.

They reach down towards your frame when he squats, and you stifle the urge to scream at the sight of them getting nearer. Because who knows what he's going to do...

They poke and prod, grabbing lightly at parts of you, wet yet not quite. Two coil around your arms, then elbows, then wrists.

Other strays squirm around your sides, unintentionally triggering a squirming reflex as you muffle helpless laughter.

The monster seems intrigued by the noise anyway, making his own vocalizations as if attempting to communicate with you.

Abruptly, there's a blur of movement and you're yanked into the air by the arms, shrieking in fear and pain.

Not for long, because more of his freaky, flowing appendages wind around your middlesection, hips and knees, pulling in different directions.

In seconds, mere moments, this being has you suspended in the air.

Immediately, your panicked mind is going places where it absolutely shouldn't.

He seems more relaxed now that you're restrained, that gaze becomes softer, clouded with curiosity. To be monitoring you this long, you don't doubt he has his own questions and intrigue regarding how you work.

When that hulking red mass walks towards you, anxiety prevents your mouth from staying shut.

" H- Hi? "

A sound not too different from the peep of a skittish bird.

One that causes him to cock his head in a brief pause, processing the noise, and returning it with his own light gurgle. One of the mouths on his figure gets the pitch right down to a T.

Soon, he's lacing a hand through your hair, grabbing it, manipulating the protrusion and stroking your head inquisitively. He squeezes and almost scritches at your scalp, reminding you of the way someone acts when spotting a particularly cute cat. Yes, hair is likely a mystery to this creature, you can kind of understand why it'd linger here.

But that doesn't change the fact that you're being patted like a pet by a strange, unknowable creature- And that's morbidly hilarious.

When your cheeks start to puff with laughter, his attention finally deviates. You can feel the tendrils that form every digit when he splays them across your face, tracing your eyebrows, playing with the tip of your nose and even trying to poke into your ears- Something he halts when you jerk away rapidly each time.

When he starts trying to put a digit in your mouth, he's a lot more careful, aware that you have teeth and can bite, even if yours are quite small and blunt compared to the ones he sports. He succeeds, because your strength is nothing compared to that of a monster of his size and nature. The digit he dips into your mouth rests there placidly for a couple of moments.

You aren't sure what to do. Biting is not a bright idea when you know this creature can probably easily dismember you in this position. He himself looks slightly lost, as if he put his finger in your mouth out of impulse mostly. A false sense of security begets your own curiosity.

Perhaps you're just insane already -That probably says a lot about your overall mental fortitude- But seeing another living being that behaves and looks vaguely like what you might call a person makes you feel calmer than you have since the beginning of all this. You know it's an irrational feeling, that you're not any safer than before, but it's a thread of comfort you desperately cling to.

And it's what allows you to look this thing in the eye while you experimentally lick his bizarre tendril-clump of a finger.

It was only a little flick.

But naturally, he felt it.

The monster rumbles something incomprehensible at you, leaning closer still to cast a shadow upon your front. In this position, he looms between your clothed legs, though seems mostly unaware of the lurid position he's got you in, fixated on your mouth.

The sensation of his digit unfolding into two separate thin tentacles is bizarre. You picture a human finger splitting in two and curse your brain. Said tentacles poke and wriggle, capturing your tongue between themselves.

Yes, that's probably the part of your body that most closely resembles the mass of prehensile tissue composing his own.

The touch has you drooling, saliva trying to break down something probably few to no humans have ever come in contact with. He tastes slimy yet slightly rugged in some areas, not something you'd write home about.

Reflex has your poor muscle squirming to be freed, but that only causes him to tighten the grasp upon it. And, surprisingly, to let out this humid noise that sounds far too much like a groan of delight for you to interpret it as anything else.

There's a pause from your part as you wonder, incredulously, if this thing just got turned on.

There's not much time to ponder, because that digit very quickly slips out, and as he examines the sheen of drool on it, something else steadily approaches your mouth.

Ah, you've graduated from finger to proper tentacle mouthfucking. Commendable.

Making light of the situation is about the least recommended course of action, but after what you've endured so far, you think you deserve to be a little, tiny bit, insane.

Apparently convinced that you won't try to harm him, the crimson monster wiggles that darkened appendage and taps it against your lips, seeming very interested in how this is unfolding.

You should not have opened your mouth.

But you did.

And he visibly brightened up.

The tendril wedges itself in without much hesitation, resting upon your tongue. Much thicker than his digit, your jaw has no choice but to stretch, and your lips wrap around it in a rather phallic, dirty image. You barely realize you're making an effort not to scrape your teeth on the appendage. Perhaps because the sensation of it is a tad spongy and remarkably similar to that of any standard manhood.

And, as if to give reason to your lewd comparison, he shudders at the warmth of your wet mouth, the thing pulsing within you.

While he mostly simply lets the extremity sit there motionlessly, you do explore, trying to lick around it out of morbid curiosity. He watches you avidly, but apparently, what really gets to this bizarre entity is feeling you suck down the saliva that pools in your cheeks, swallowing.

Suction. Because of course he'd enjoy that. What man doesn't?

That begs the question, is the thing in your mouth part of his genitals?

Again, thinking is a privilege you can't afford when that tentacle starts sliding down your throat experimentally. It doesn't take him long to trigger your gag reflex, a violent kick and curve forward from your part causing him to pull back quickly. But he continues to test the waters afterwards, probably seeking the sensation of your stressed throat muscles tightening around him.

Instinct takes over.

Because even if he seems truly out of his depth maneuvering a human body, he's curious and, if you had to guess, attracted to you. Enough to put sensitive things in your mouth, to fetishize that part of you. Hormones make things work, which means he soon realizes he can make repetitive back and forth motions to get friction.

And so, just like that, you're getting fucked in the mouth, inside the woods, by an eldritch abomination of a monster you might find in a cheaply made H. P Lovecraft rip-off.

It should not arouse you.

It should horrify you.

... But it doesn't.

Those reactions are missing, leaving you befuddled at your own enjoyment of the situation. Are you just happy to have someone around? Has it truly been so long since you received this type of attention that you don't mind if it comes from an entity of unknown origin who is clearly not civilized? Are you just a freak actively discovering new sides of your sexuality?

Who knows anymore.

All you know is that there's a wet noise ringing every time he thrusts that slimy thing into your mouth, that he's resorted to gripping your hips hard while making intense eye contact, that he growls and gurgles whenever you have enough control to suck at him. If you had to guess, it's his unwavering, lewd and fascinated observation of your face and lips that has you likely forming a wet spot on your poor pants.

You think your wanton squirming is subtle, but reality proves otherwise when the monster starts getting distracted, one of those pupils shifting to the rhythmic movement of your legs as you shamelessly seek friction. At first, he seems irritated, as if questioning why you'd want to leave when you'd been so docile so far.

Then it appears to click.

You can almost see it in his face, in spite of how inhuman it is, that eureka moment.

And the tendril in your mouth slows down to a crawl.

He starts pawing and pulling at your pants, but not aimlessly. Not at all. He's studied you, he knows what he's looking for, the button and the zipper. You pale a few shades, the only way this thing could know how to take pants off is if it saw you doing it, if it saw you relieving yourself or trying to bathe to avoid infections.

Just how many embarrassing moments did he catch?

Too many, probably.

Still, you're pleasantly surprised to see him so easily remove the garment, fluidly shifting the positions of his tendrils to avoid tangling the fabric in them. Your pants come off without a single blemish, aside from those they sustained previously. Is he removing them so carefully because he thinks you need them to survive or is he just being considerate?

Your underwear is treated the same way, he spares no extra thought to it, and only appears to pause once your pussy is exposed.

Usually, you'd feel self-conscious in this position. There's not a lot you can do to properly groom yourself without the simple privilege of soap and whatnot... But what does it matter here? As far as you know, for this monster, pussy is pussy regardless of it being shaved or bush-heavy, "perfumed" or au naturel.

And a soaked, needy hole is hard for a lonesome monster to ignore.

He looms closer to your womanhood, watching closely, gargling a string of vocalizations you still can't interpret, until another tentacle slithers into scene and slaps against your cunt.

No, literally.

The thing whips from mound to the bottom of your entrance, swiping up and down in a pace that has you seeing stars every time it flicks your clitoris and catches on a clenching entrance. To say your legs kick out occasionally from the intensity of the stimulus is no exaggeration, but he's quick to adapt his hold so you have no way of wiggling aside.

You don't know why it's doing that, but frankly, you don't care much, it just feels good. A racing heart and a heaving chest have you tipping your head back to moan against the thing stuffed in your mouth. You realize, a little belatedly, that he was probably mostly just trying to lube that appendage with your own arousal.

Your plump pussy still tingles when the assault stops on all sides, you strain to watch what he's doing, observing the monster evaluate the sheen now coating that wriggling extremity.

He's less careful than before now, a product of excitement no doubt, parking the somewhat thicker length at your entrance and pushing in tentatively for only a couple of moments before ramming a decent chunk of that tendril into your cunt.

Eyes bulging, you spit out a beastial sound that startles the monster, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch. He's reached a depth within you no one else has found before, and the pressure is such so that you've been robbed of the ability to speak.

He shouldn't be that far in you.

You may come from extremely distinct backgrounds, but some things are vastly universal, like the facial expression of pain. Which, credit where credit is due, he picks up on relatively fast. The moment the entity removes a good chunk of its length, you sigh and sag in momentous relief. That's a lot better. You still feel as if you're being stuffed to the brim, but there's no longer that stabbing pain.

He understands what he did wrong after a couple of still moments and some bizarre palping sensation from your insides.

Much like the previous tendril in your mouth, this one too starts to thrust back and forth, with more care now, experimenting with differing speeds and curling in various ways as he gets closer and closer to watch how you react.

You're no researcher, but maybe if the mounting pleasure wasn't swimming to your head and making it very very hard to think coherently right now, you'd be fascinated with the way this monster is being so thorough in his examination of you, wanting to learn what makes you tick in every way, what has you choking out noises and rolling your eyes.

So intense is the heat rushing through your body from his repeated, filthy motions that you hardly notice anything happening until his all-seeing eye is almost glued to your face. The tips of the tentacles that make up his rather disturbing head unfurl and appear to drip downwards, clinging to the sides of your face so he can fix it in place, observe every detail as soon as you part your mouth to moan and gasp and babble nonsense. Each noise you make is eagerly eaten up, he tries to mimic the same motions that make you squeal as if begging for more of them.

There's no time to warn or even shriek about it, your orgasm barrels its way down your body with the intensity of a bullet, curving you in its tentacles, a breathless "oh" being all you can offer as your abdominal muscles contract and you squeeze the life out of the tendril inside you, making a mess that drips to the ground between you two.

It may not have been easy to spot in that pleasured trance, but the monster halted to watch it all unfold, mesmerized. Retracting to test the nature of the new slick now grossly painting you.

By the time you're done riding the high of your climax, you've been shifted again, this time a little lower, and you find the entity staring down to the spot where your core meets something that wasn't there before.

You'll admit you didn't have the time to properly process the full extent of his appearance when he first appeared before your stunned self. Now you're unsure if this monster had some kind of pelvic pouch, or if he merely unfolded two more tendrils out of his mass where one would expect a dick to be.

The two appendages wriggle and roll impatiently, seeking each other before parting in search of heat, of wetness, slapping against your belly and thighs. They may not look like it, but you can only guess those are his cocks. And he's considering something quietly.

It's hard to tell what he's thinking right now, the communication barrier doesn't help. Maybe he worries that the length of them will hurt you. Perhaps he wonders if he can impregnate you this way. It could just be that he thinks perhaps mating with a strange human is not a good idea, but the way those things are spreading a coat of thick precum on your skin says otherwise.

Instead of letting his stall further, a small hand reaches down to feather over the tip of one of those members, immediately getting captured and pulled at in the process. His figure rattles, hips offering a useless piston before his head snaps back up to watch you.

" ... Try putting one in. "

You murmur, knowing damn well it can't understand a single word.

He looks back down, peels back to spread your cuntlips invitingly, then seems to make up his mind, allowing the very tips of both squirming cocks to connect with your entrance. They've found warmth and they're desperate to worm in, stretching and flirting with your walls.

You grin incredulously, already trying to guess what it'll feel like, gasping as soon as he leans forward and allows more exploration. The first hint of a burn arrives as he rumbles in delight-

But a branch snaps in the distance.

And the moment is ruined because he halts immediately, your cry of frustration ignored entirely.

His body twists in an unnatural way so he can glance behind, inhuman eye seeing through greenery and undoubtedly spotting something off.

In the tense quiet that has now settled, even you pick up on the faraway mumbles of what must be people.

Eyes widening, snapping out of this episode, you begin to squirm earnestly now, wanting to see them, to find a way back, to go home!

Finally, people came looking for you!

The monster snaps back around, making you realize how truly fucked you are in these circumstances. Something flashes in that gaze, a hint of contempt, of hurt maybe.

Something too human to fall upon such a nightmarish face.

You can only scream as more tendrils dart in lightening speeds to cocoon you inside them. That single noise being all that escapes before you're forcibly gagged and physically thrown over the monster's shoulder.

His molding body swings from tree to tree in a blur of movement, taking you God knows where...

And leaving your saviors in the dust.

[captainjamster]

breeding/pregnancy kink, incest, thoughts of kidnapping, daddy kink, controlling behaviour // reader is written with female anatomy and wears makeup but isn't gendered

Price knows that his relationship with you is complicated, to say the least.

There's no room for acceptance of your relationship - no one understands the festering need clawing underneath his skin, the way his hands itch for you. Any normal person would be horrified by the way he feels about you, the things he does to you - but years of service have shown John just how far from normal he is.

Sometimes he longs to show you off - present you to the world, take you out on dinners and dates, bring you to functions without questions about why you hold him so close, or why his arm always wraps dangerously low around your waist. It gets considerably worse when he entertains that barely dorment desire to fight his thick cock between your thighs and breed you again and again. The miracle of contraceptives have provided him with an outlet; he can fuck you raw and stick to secretly hope it somehow takes, despite the odds. But it only tampers the wishful thinking that has him pinching your nipples and wishing they'd leak, running his hands over the fat of your stomach, longing to feel that little bump of seed grow and grow.

He knows there's one solution to all this - to escaping the judgement of others keeping him from consuming you whole. Not a day passes where he doesn't consider taking you off-grid entirely - he knows Nik has a house somewhere in the mountains he could inhabit. Just you and him, a small cabin and some livestock.

But it's not realistic (-yet-). He couldn't leave you all alone, no help or company around, during the long periods of his deployment. So he sticks for ravishing you in private, desperately trying to convey the need he feels with each thrust, like he could imprint the depths of his depraved love if his fingers grip your hips just a bit tighter. He never leaves you unsatisfied, and it's not over until you're blurry-eyed with exhaustion, dripping his cum onto the sheets already damp with your slick, mumbling nothing but love and appreciation for your Daddy as he scoops you up against his chest.

There are other small pleasures, too. Hearing you splutter on video calls when your friends make teasing quips about the marks you can't even begin to cover with clothes or makeup, avoiding questions and alluding to some vague hookup. Watching you get ready to go out for a night, just to force you down to your knees and wrap those pretty coloured lips around his cock. You complain every time he tuts at the short cut of your outfits (even when they're appropriate, but he'll never admit that), chastising you for lacking modesty, but your pussy is always wet when he pushes you back to the bedroom for a lesson.

Eventually, John will work something out. A man like him always does. But for now, he relishes the shadows that he keeps you in - his hidden prize, kept safely up on the shelf. But a prize is made to be appreciated, no? Good thing John can think of a few boys with an eye for a pretty toy.

[signanothername]

if Nightmare uncorrupted by a miracle, do you think he would find his happy ending or mend things with Dream?

Ough y’know I genuinely wanna say yes but-

Ok i’d say it’s gonna be way more complicated than a simple yes and a happy ending where Nightmare and Dream suddenly are on good terms

But it’s also not a simple no either

Nightmare’s and Dream’s relationship is beyond scarred and their pain runs way deeper than just simply like Nightmare’s corruption, it’s also important to keep in mind that they fought for years before Nightmare lost that corruption, and they both said and did some bad things to each other during that time in the high of their fights

It’s kinda like, how do you heal a relationship that’s beyond healing at that point? You mend and save what you can but accept that it can never go back to how it used to be

Not to mention, it’s important to keep in mind how Nightmare lost that corruption, and to me I feel like Dream’s the only one who can genuinely somehow get him out of his corruption at any capacity, and that in of itself would leave a big sore spot in the twins’ relationship, cause Nightmare sees his corruption as the only thing keeping him safe, it gave him power and strength and to lose such a thing and get back to feeling weak and helpless and it’s your brother’s fault?? Yeah Nightmare would not be happy with Dream at all

To him that’s just Dream hurting him more than he already is hurt

Like when Nightmare loses his corruption at first he genuinely sees Dream as the biggest threat to him, cause he’s the only one who can kill him and after so many years of fighting, Nightmare has no reason to believe Dream wouldn’t just take his helplessness as an opportunity to kill him

Like i want you to understand that this is the extent of how fucked up their relationship is, it’s so fucked up that Nightmare genuinely fears for his life around Dream without his corruption

And it’s not cause Dream has shown any true signs that he’d be willing to hurt Nightmare at all, Dream doesn’t find joy in their fights, it hurts him emotionally way more than any broken bone Nightmare bent out of shape, but just like Dream fears for his life around Nightmare during his corrupted state, Nightmare fears for his life around Dream in his uncorrupted state

And I think seeing the fear in Nightmare’s eye as he looks at Dream would just hurt Dream more than anything ever did, cause Dream is a bit deluded to think he’d finally see Nightmare’s old smile when his corruption is gone, but in reality all he sees is a look of fear he only saw Nightmare show towards the villagers and god does it absolutely fucking kill him inside

Another thing to keep in mind is what I mentioned before, how Nightmare views his corruption as part of himself, but to put it in clear bold words, Nightmare sees his corruption as a genuine part of his identity as a whole, and Dream took that away, it isn’t just even simple feelings of helplessness and weakness, if Nightmare loses his corruption he’d fully experience his already deep rooted identity crisis

And that in of itself makes Nightmare too disoriented and emotionally unstable, further contributing to how hard it is to mend his relationship with Dream, if Nightmare even wants to mend his relationship with his twin at all

That being said, Dream on the other hand, while he’s extremely forgiving and he genuinely doesn’t hold Nightmare’s actions against him or thinks/loves Nightmare any less after being hurt by him so many times, it still leaves marks on him, both physically and emotionally, and Dream would have to work through so much of that hurt to get to a point in which he can be close and look Nightmare in the eye without flinching away or feeling uneasy like death itself is looking back at him

And while Nightmare’s thoughts are a lot clearer without the corruption suffocating and plaguing his every waking thought, that doesn’t mean the hurt he experienced for so many years can just be forgotten and forgiven in a single conversation

I’d even dare say both twins aren’t even ready for a single conversation yet

For their relationship to even start its healing journey, both twins have to heal themselves first, separately

They have to stay away from each other for a while, just, take a look at themselves and process their emotions, trauma and whether they still even want that relationship to heal, cause sometimes, the true best course of action is to let go than keep digging

And while I think Dream would want their relationship to heal, Nightmare might be a bit hesitant on that front, Nightmare might give it a try, but I still don’t think they’ll just magically become as close as they used to, their relationship is beyond that at this point

So I think the closest their relationship can get to being better, is that they’re not actively trying to kill each other, maybe Nightmare would allow Dream a day in which they hang out, but that’s far in the future

It took 500 years of hurt to get where they are now, and it’ll probably take another 500 years for their relationship to recover and mend to a point where it’s as close as it can be to how it used to be, but there will always be those days in which they don’t get along at all, those days in which they need their alone time away from each other

But still, a calm genuine and honest conversation between these two would do them so much good, if both are willing to take the gut wrenching truth about their feelings with stride, which I think would take so much time before that conversation even happens in which they actually keep calm instead of it escalating into a fight

Dream is more than ready to let go of the past and to make new memories, he’d already started out as stuck in the past for too long and then later just wanted to move on, and that was his opportunity to do so for good

Nightmare isn’t, he started out as someone too stuck in the future cause of the trauma he experienced cause he wanted to move on so bad that he didn’t process any of his trauma or emotions at all, only for his mind to catch up to him way too late and he’s suddenly stuck in the past, unable to let go of the hurt he experienced, he’s too stuck in the past to simply let go of everything that led up to this point of his life, too hurt, too scared of making new memories only for them to be tainted with more pain somehow

Nightmare doesn’t want to move on out of fear, not out of any actual genuine hatred, Nightmare fears that if he moved on, his past would simply catch up to him all over again

I think the true best course of action is that Nightmare and Dream stay in separate places, work together through their broken relationship slowly, but never force the process, just let it happen naturally, it’s best if each just lived under a different roof, they need to spend time with each other to heal, but not spend too much time, they both need to find their separate roads that don’t revolve around each other if they wanted to truly heal themselves and their relationship

Nightmare wouldn’t simply go back to the same Nightmare who was so open, gentle and happy to receive Dream’s hugs or smile at Dream every time he sees him, he won’t tell Dream how much he loves him or cares for him and he won’t be as openly affectionate as he used to be, he’d still deny his love for Dream and live in the delusion that he doesn’t care for Dream as much as he does, he won’t suddenly become a merciful, gentle and loving person like he didn’t inflect so much cruelty upon so many people, cause it isn’t as simple as “corruption is what made him a bitch”, it runs way deeper as his corruption shaped him as a person, and Dream has to accept that if he truly and genuinely wants their relationship to heal at all

But i’d say that no matter how long it takes, the twins’ relationship would mend enough that they don’t fight at every single conversation they have, mend enough for them to actually hang out with each other, it wouldn’t be exactly like it used to be, but something close, not too close, but I think close enough for both of them to heal and grow bigger than their grief eventually

I wouldn’t say it’ll be a genuine happy ending for them, but it’ll be a bittersweet one

But hey, Dream might get what he wants and see somthing akin to Nightmare’s old gentle smile one day <3

[muzzledjaw]

I have a lot of headcanons I've posted to @coffee4harper Discord server in the past couple hours and I was holdnto post them here so :]

💥TORCHWOOD💥

**Ianto James Bond Headcanons**

- Ianto has *atleast* five copies of his favourite James bond movies.

- Lisa started the "Jones. Ianto, Jones." Joke.

- After the events of the season 1 finale, ianto had been referred to as 007 multiple times.

- After Ianto's death, Jack went to every opening night showing of a James bond film, then went to Ianto's grave to tell him about it.

- Ianto use to have a framed picture of every James bond actor in his childhood room.

//

**Torchwood Social Medias**

During slow days at work, the team goes on:

*Owen* - Reddit. He absolutely loves Reddit and frequents many subreddits

*Tosh* - YouTube. She probably watches in depth YouTube tutorials on both things she's interested in so she can learn, and things she already knows to silently judge

*Ianto* - Tumblr. He's not very active, but he does some scrolling during slow days in the tourist office.

*Gwen* - Instagram. She comments on every one of Rhys' posts and watches instagram reels.

*Jack* - do you really think this man knows how to use social media? Owen probably made him download snapchat and got him hooked on the fitters like every grandparent

Owen's reddit account was also linked to his torchwood email

//

The team once came into the hub really late to find Jack sleeping on the couch under the "TORCHWOOD" sign hugging ten's hand jar

//

One of the last things the face of bo sees is a suited figure crouching down infront of him and just holding him. He can't remember the figure's face, or who it is, but the face of bo feels safe to die, knowing he's in this unknown figure's arms

//

Jack reaches out to ianto's sister after the days of miracle day and offers finance support to her until the day she dies, saying ianto would've wanted his family to be safe. This continues for generations, until eventually the children are stopped being told of their late relative Ianto and the odd man who gives them so much money in his name

//

Owen fucking loves Melanie Martinez - specifically Cry Baby

//

Sometime in season 2, Jack once again started feeling guilty about suddenly leaving Torchwood for the Doctor for like a year, so he surprised Ianto with a spontaneous road trip. They drove across Wales for a week and it was one of the last peaceful moments the two ever had

//

**Post Death**

Owen's spirit haunted Dash-Con

After the events of House If The Dead, Ianto's spirit ended up at Canary Warf. Tourists and people who work in the area often talk about the suited Welshman who sits at the fountain all day, everyday, waiting for a woman to arrive

Tosh's spirit, somehow, ended up in Glasgow. She haunts Torchwood 2 and helps old Archie with tech. Archie doesn't realise she's a spirit. He's just happy to have company and someone to help him with all the email stuff

//

Mitski became popular and Jack locked himself in his office for a week straight and sobbed to her songs, thinking about ianto and all he lost in the past few years. He made sure to keep her music safe until his face of bo era. He never played miski for the guests of his events. She was just for him and his cat maid

//

The doctor's hand was destroyed in the torchwood bomb, and after learning about it, Jack just sobbed. He's lost tosh, Owen, and ianto. And now, he can't even keep track of the doctor. He's lost in his eternal life with nothing. This later leads to his decision to leave earth

//

Jack absolutely loved the x-men comics when they were first released, and when X-Men First Class was released he'd watch it on repeat imagining him and his team in place of the characters. The roles would shift around sometimes, but Jack always sees himself as Charles Xavier

//

Jack had a fling with Wilfred Owen during WW1. He keeps original copies of the man's work close to him. After Ianto's death, he donated what he could scavenge of the papers to the London Archives, not wanting anymore reminders of the men he loved that died too young

//

After CoE, and realising she never actually knew Ianto, Gwen sat Jack down with a cup of tea and asked him to tell her everything he could about the real Ianto before his funeral. Jack just.. sighed.. and said to gwen, "he was many things" and never explained further

//

Before the coffin was closed, Jack started a stopwatch and placed it in Ianto's hand. Like the ring that John threw in with Jack when he was forced to bury Jack alive, the stopwatch was a tracker with a special battery to allow it to run for centuries. When he felt lonely, Jack would check on the tracker, just to know that ianto was still there and the stopwatch was still ticking away, timing their time apart. He was not ready for the day he checked on the tracker and the screen was blank

//

(Based off that one scene in greys anatomy) after the service, Jack and gwen found a quiet spot to sit, and Jack just burst into laughter. And because Jack was laughing, Gwen was laughing. And they laughed together until it morphed into a comfortable silence between them as they held eachother

//

Ianto was buried with a sobriety coin in his pocket. Only Jack knows about this.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 6: Seventeen bias wrecker - Dino✨️

Affect

AN: This has been in my drafts for 600 years because those clips of him from In The Soop still haunt me. I just think it's funny that because it took me so long to get to this, we got even more shirtless Dino in the gym content recently. Clearly a sign from the universe to finish this lmao. I was going to go on a whole unhinged rant about him but, I'll spare you all. We're all going to ignore that 1. his is the longest so far and 2. I've written the most for him out of every idol, thanks.

Synopsis: You thought working out with Chan would be a fun, productive way to spend time together. However, you're sorely unprepared for just how distracting he can be.

Heads up: Lee Chan x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers of sorts, Reader going through it because of her attraction to Chan, praise kink (f. receiving), Chan being a menace, technically public sex I guess (they fuck in the gym but, no one catches them and it's not brought up as a concern), hair pulling, dirty talk, petnames used for Reader, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Reader cries a little and creampie.

Word count: 4138

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You knew you were doomed the moment you saw Chan in his workout clothing. His shirt sticking to his torso and practically acting like a second skin. You're sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the outlines of his nipples. His shorts were worse, somehow. Beckoning you to look at his toned thighs and zero in on how they hugged his ass.

Today is going to be more challenging than you anticipated.

"So, where do you want to start?" He asks, snapping you out of so blatantly ogling one of your closest friends. God, what're you thinking? You're here to spend time with him. Not think about how broad his shoulders are and just how muscular his ass would feel if you gave it a squeeze or five.

"You're the gym expert. You tell me," You pray to whichever deity is listening that Chan mistakes the delicate quality in your voice for anything other than how much just seeing him dressed like this affects you.

His laugh is boisterous and fills you with so much warmth, turning the already present butterflies in your stomach into dragons. One person shouldn't have this much power over you.

"I better not hear any complaining then," he responds with a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Yeah, maybe being alone with the man you're borderline in love with isn't the wisest decision you've ever made, but it's too late now. You resist the scowl that wants to make itself known on your face when you invision a knowing Soonyoung in your mind. He's the one who suggested this to begin with. You're definitely going to be having some words with him the next time you see him, that evil man. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You severely underestimated how much worse this could get. You thought just seeing him in his tight-fitting gym attire was enough to fog up your brain but, that was before you heard the noises.

Lee Chan is a vocal man in all areas of life. Well, all areas of life that you've experienced him in. He's always talking, laughing, yelling at points, singing, sometimes rapping to fill the silence, and a million other things. The point being, Chan is not a quiet man. So, it shouldn't take you by surprise that he's vocal while he's working out too.

Still, the quiet grunts that fall from his lips and fill the otherwise relatively silent gym when he lifts weights causes your heart to beat wildly in your chest. The drawn-out groans when he finishes a set or stretches out his muscles might be the worst. Coupled with the way he grits his jaw and his face contorts when he's lifting, it's frankly a miracle you haven't spontaneously combusted.

However, as you stand and watch him while he illustrates how he wants you to lift these weights to your absolute horror and mortification, you realise you're getting wet. Not only that, but a barely there ache is beginning to make itself known between your thighs.

You're sure your face is radiating enough heat to power a small apartment building. You're really getting this worked up just watching him work out? What in the world is wrong with you? Are you truly this needy? You definitely need to call Soonyoung after this and yell at him until you're hoarse.

"Do you want to try now?" Chan asks you, kind eyes focused on you. You really might be the world's worst friend.

"Yeah, sure," you respond, pulling yourself together as best as you can given that you're unravelling at the seams. The weights aren't too heavy. You test them in your hold momentarily before imitating Chan's movements. There's a slight burn in your biceps but, otherwise you feel fine. It feels good, even. The slight burn fueling you.

"That's my girl,"

Oh.

Oh no.

That's all it takes for you to falter. Your mind suddenly completely forgetting the motions for the exercise you watched minutes ago.

"You were doing good just now but, try doing it this way," he says, standing up from where he'd been seated to watch you. His hands correcting your hold on the weights and the positioning of your arms. Every brush of his fingers on your skin leaves electricity in their wake. Fuck. Fuck this is bad. This is so bad.

Trying to remember how to be a normal human being, you nod at his words. Following his guidance and resuming the exercise precisely how he showed you now that your brain is semi-functional again.

"There you go. Good job," perhaps you should be a little more concerned about just how much his praise increases your pulse and worsens the way your panties are already sticking to you, but that's a thought for examining on another day. You can only handle so much right now.

"How about some pull-ups next?"

"Chan, do I strike you as the kind of person even capable of doing a single pull-up?"

"You could learn today,"

When all you respond with is a stone faced expression, he seems to get the message loud and clear, "Okay, fine. I'll do pull-ups and you do squats. How does that sound?"

"Now you're speaking my language,"

On the ever growing list of 'things you're violently unprepared for today', the next to be added is Chan just casually taking off his shirt. That stops you dead in your tracks. Your lips parting as his bare back comes into your line of sight. You thought it was broad before, but now? Seeing it completely bare? Broad feels like too simplistic of a word to describe it.

You knew, logically, that Chan was ripped. You've seen his arms, paying special attention to them more times than you care to admit. All of the guys work out regularly, and most of them mention Chan as one of the more dedicated members of the group when it came to hitting the gym.

You knew all of that, and yet, seeing the evidence a mere few metres in front of your very eyes leaves you speechless and stunned. Chan must notice your blatantly staring because he turns to look at you over his shoulder, "Is everything okay?"

You must struggle to come up with a believable response too long because he both looks and sounds panicked as he continues on, "Shit, did I make you uncomfortable? I should've asked if you were okay with me taking my shirt off. I'm sorry."

His panic must be infectious because you soon find yourself in a similar state, "No, no, Chan, it's okay. You did nothing wrong. I don't mind you being shirtless," quite the opposite actually, and that's the issue, but you decide to keep that bit to yourself.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind putting it back on if it's a problem,"

"Yes, I'm sure. It's really not a big deal,"

He looks unsure briefly but seems to accept your words. Giving you a nod before turning back to face the pull-up bar and begin his routine. You barely register the faint sting in your thighs from how deeply your nails are clawing into them. Eagle eyes drinking in as much as you can of every muscle contraction of his back. Your panties growing uncomfortably wet now as your ears are assaulted with grunts louder than the ones before.

You need to take a cold shower that lasts hours after this. At least you have a good month's worth of masturbation material now, so there's that.

Chan finishes his set far quicker than you would've liked. Sweat drenching his handsome face and droplets running down his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his pecs until they disappear into the waistband of his shorts. Would it be so horrible to admit that you'd love to see just where those droplets wind up? That you'd happily follow their path with your tongue instead of your eyes?

"Hey, is everything okay?" Chan asks, dropkicking you out of your obscene thoughts.

"Ye-Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"It's just um you haven't really moved, and you've been kind of...staring at me?"

Oh no. Oh god, he noticed. No fucking shit he noticed you've probably been staring at him with all of the subtly of a rhino in a tea shop. Why did you have to make a day meant to be catching up with a friend so fucking weird.

"I-sorry. You're just distracting," is what comes out of your mouth in your blind panic.

"Distracting?" He asks, titling his head, "I'm distracting? Distracting how?"

By being shirtless, with all of the noises you've been making all day, by touching me, by telling me what a good job I've been doing, by just existing in the same space as me - are all of the thoughts that spring up in your mind. All the thoughts you show a great deal of restraint in not word vomiting out at him.

To your absolute mortification, an expression akin to understanding dawns on Chan's face. You've never wanted the Earth to spilt open and swallow you whole more than in this moment.

"Oh, I'm distracting huh?" Chan asks with a grin a touch too arrogant for you, taking a step towards you.

"No! It's not - I'm not - I wasn't - it wasn't like that," you stutter out, growing ever more flustered as a shirtless, sweaty Chan invades your space.

"It wasn't like what exactly?" He asks, mischief shining clear as day in his typically warm eyes.

Before you can consciously think about it, you find yourself stepping backwards. Much to the amusement of the man you're not sure if you want to kiss or throttle in front of you.

You decide to abandon the route you were on and attempt another one, "I'm sorry for staring at you."

"You don't have to apologise," Chan waves you off, "But I do want to know why you were staring,"

It's clear as day to anyone with basic critical thinking skills why you were so laser focused on his stupid back and shoulders. He just wants you to say it. You never took Chan for the humiliation type.

"You know why," you mutter, leaning against the wall that you had no idea you'd even gotten so close to. You suppose your brain is too preoccupied with trying to keep your friendship from going up into flames.

"I don't. You have to tell me," You really want to punch that shit eating grin off of his face. Your adrenaline spiking as he takes another step towards you.

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"I've heard that once or twice over the years. Still doesn't answer my question though,"

"I think you're attractive, okay?" You finally blurt out. Looking at everything but him in the gym. Studiously focused on one of the treadmills in towards the back, over his shoulder.

"Aw, I'm flattered," he responds, so close to you now that all you'd have to do is reach out, and you'd be touching his bare chest. You have a feeling this isn't going to bode well for you.

"Whatever. You got the answer you wanted. Are you happy now?"

"You know, for being one of the smartest women I know, you're pretty dense," he responds dryly.

"What? Hey!"

"Do you really think I'd react this way to anyone saying they think I'm hot? Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

All you can do is owlishly blink at him. His words washing over you, trying your hardest to digest what he just said to you.

"I think you might have to spell it out for me, yeah," you mutter more breathlessly than you care to admit. It certainly doesn't become any easier to breathe when Chan is fully in your space, crowding you against the gym wall. His scent flooding your system, worsening the wetness between your thighs and muddling your mind even more.

"Is this okay?" He whispers, mere centimetres away from your mouth. His eyes considerably darker than they were minutes ago.

"Yes,"

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes," if anyone asks, you don't sound needy in the slightest when you reply to him.

You quickly learn that Lee Chan, as with many other facets of his life, excels in kissing you until you can think of nothing but, him. Not your mind has been anywhere else for the past few hours to begin with.

Your hands make themselves at home on his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there as you pour what feels like centuries worth of yearning into this kiss.

"May I touch you?" He mutters against your mouth and, you wonder why he'd ever stop kissing you to ask such a stupid question.

"Yes, Chan. You can do whatever you want. I don't care," you rush out in response, dragging his mouth back to yours to feed into what is quickly becoming your newest addiction.

With your green light, his hands drift towards your oversized shirt. Smiling against your mouth when you shudder from the brief brushes of his fingertips along your abdomen while he toys with the hem of your shirt.

"I didn't think you'd be one to tease," you say.

"Have you thought about me like this often?" You really had to be so weak for such an insufferable man huh.

You choose to kiss him instead of replying, tugging on his hair in retaliation for the grin you know is on his face. Luckily for you, Chan seems to have had his fill of toying with you for now. Shoving your shirt upwards, pulling away from you briefly to tug it off of you fully.

He just stares at you. Want clear as day in his eyes as he watches your chest rise and fall and how your sports bra outlines your hardened nipples. You find yourself growing a little self-conscious under his heavy gaze. You hadn't picked your outfit with the goal of winding up like this in mind.

"You're staring," you finally find the courage to say, pushing down every instinct to cross your arms over your chest.

"Just returning the favour," he quips back, jumping back into action and acquainting himself with your throat. You can't help the moans and throaty gasps that leave your lips as his kisses and nips at your sensitive skin, exploiting every weak spot he can find. One of his hands reaching down to fondle your breast, running his thumb over your nipple through the fabric of your bra.

All you can manage to do is lean against the wall for stability. Every kiss and lick and squeeze sending lightning down your spine straight to your clit. You wouldn't be surprised if your legging were wet, too, at this point.

"You're so responsive," he whispers against your neck. Given how quietly he said it, you're not sure whether he meant to verbalise that thought or not, but you can't think to respond when he pushes your bra up.

He dots kisses along your breasts. Each press of his lips bringing him closer and closer to one of your nipples before he envelopes one into his warm mouth. He seems intent to wring every noise, every reaction out of you that he possibly can. Teasingly running his teeth along the sensitive bud, smiling when you arch into his touch. His nimble fingers find themselves at the waistband of your leggings. Slipping into them and pulling a particularly loud gasp from you when they come into contact with your more than likely ruined panties.

Your face burns when Chan's expression morphs into one of surprise, his fingers running along your panty covered slit as if to affirm to himself you're really this wet already.

"I didn't realise I had such a strong effect on you," he says against your breast, his voice gravelly, "Fuck, you're already so wet."

A strangled moan is all you can offer when he finds your swollen clit.

"Poor baby. Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Just need to get you out of these," he says, kneeling in front of you and pulling your leggings and panties down. You kick off your shoes impatiently to help ease the process, leaving you almost fully naked.

"I can't believe you're this wet when I haven't even touched you properly," he says, sounding genuinely amazed. Intense gaze focused on your swollen, slick slit. Lifting one of your legs and letting it rest over one of his shoulders.

Anticipation settles in your gut as Chan makes himself comfortable between your thighs. Your hips jolting into him when he experimentally touches you once more, completely bare this time. Your wetness generously coating his thick fingers. Your eyes flutter shut as he shifts closer, goosebumps rising all over your body when his warm breaths hit you.

His first lap of you is messy and passionate. A muffled groan is your only warning before he grips your thigh and all but shoves his face into you. One of your hands fists his hair, not sure if you want him even closer or whether you need a minute from the sensations wreaking your system.

"Ch-Chan ah god," you cry out, your hold on his hair worsening. He doesn't seem to mind all that much, however. Intently focused on grinding your pussy against tongue until you fall into pieces for him.

With his mouth latched onto your clit, he teases your entrance with two of his fingers and you feel faint. His eyes find yours momentarily, looking at you through his hair as he checks for any signs of discomfort or reservations. Watching your face while he slowly sinks his fingers into you. His cock leaking even more when your warm, wet walls squeeze his fingers for dear life. He's so fucked.

The stretch his fingers provide requires some adjusting to, and Chan catches onto that. Focusing his attention back on your clit and providing some distraction while you get used to his fingers.

The wall behind you is proving to be extremely helpful. You're sure you would've crumpled onto the floor by now with the way Chan is determined to devour you whole and his fingers curl inside of you. Embarrassment warming your face as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his fingers moving inside of you hit your ears. Those sounds are accompanied by louder moans and whimpers from you when his fingers strike gold. Finding your weak spot and going for the kill.

He exploits your weaknesses gleefully, assaulting the spot over and over again while he continues his ministrations on your clit. It's no wonder your orgasm doesn't take long to slam into you. Watery cries of his name and jumbled curses echoing throughout the empty gym. You're sure you're hurting him from how fiercely you're gripping his hair. You couldn't remember the last time you'd cum this hard. Sagging against the wall when the most intense parts of it subside.

Chan presses one last kiss to your pussy before easing his fingers out of you. Standing up on unsteady legs, cupping your jaw and slamming his mouth against yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue further fueling the fog clouding your mind. Desperate hands dragging him closer to you, revelling in his closeness and the firmness of his body against your own.

"If I knew you tasted this good, I would've offered to eat you out a long time ago," he says when you shift to litter kisses on his jaw.

"If I knew you did it so well, I would've let you," you respond with an easy smile. However, any humour in your tone dissipates when you register his cock pressing against your thigh. Scorching and heavy even through the material of his shorts. Fuck.

Your mouth finds his once more. Teeth and tongue clashing with one another as he grinds himself against you, groaning into you.

"Chan, please," you whine.

"Hmm? Please, what?" You're not sure if he's genuinely too disoriented to understand what you're asking of him or if he wants you to beg. Either way, you've long since abandoned any semblance of pride.

"Please fuck me,"

His eyes shut briefly, and you watch the way his jaw clenches, "You're going to be the death of me."

If you weren't aching and noticeably empty, you might've giggled at his words. Watching him shove his shorts and underwear down his thick, muscular thighs through lidded eyes. A fresh wave of wetness gushes out of you when his cock springs free. Of course his cock would look mouthwatering too. Of course.

"You really do like to stare, huh?" he muses, stepping closer to you. Hoisting one of your legs over his elbow.

"Sh-Shut up," you stutter, fingernails digging into his biceps as he drags his cock along your pussy. His cock glistening with your arousal in no time.

"That's not nice," he faux pouts, nudging your entrance with his tip. Your knees almost buckle underneath you. A moan bubbling out of just from him toying with you.

"Chan, please. I want it. I want you, please-"

You're promptly cut off when he pushes inside of you. If you thought the stretch provided by his fingers was overwhelming, the girth of cock brings tears to your eyes. Your strained gasps and his restrained groans intertwining.

Is it possible to cum just from being so full? Lee Chan might just help you answer that question. You're not sure you've ever felt so full and stretched out in your entire life. A few stray tears running down your face already.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking just as wrecked and overwhelmed as you feel. He's practically vibrating from the effort not to move. His cock pulsing inside of you.

"Ye-Yeah. It doesn't hurt. You can move," you respond. It's now or never.

Chan starts off very slowly. Letting you grow accustomed to his girth with every drag of him along your walls. Muttering quiet praises into your neck about how well you're doing, how good you feel, and how you're taking him so well. His words prompting you to clench around him and gush around him.

"Chan, faster, please. You can move faster. It's okay, I can take it," you whine. You feel like you're going to lose your mind if he keeps thrusting so slowly. His consideration is sweet. Really, it is, but it's torturous too. From the way he seems to be restraining himself, you assume the feeling is mutual.

Something snaps in him then. His eyes more feral than they were moments ago as he picks up his pace considerably. The sounds of your wetness and skin slapping against skin mingling with your respective noises of pleasure.

"Taking my cock like such a good girl," he groans into your shoulder, sliding impossibly deeper into you when he angles himself a little differently than before.

Perhaps he's noticed the way his praise impacts you. His filthy mouth not stopping.

"Look, baby," he mutters lowly into your ear, "I want you to look at how well your pussy takes me,"

You can't find it in you to disobey. Chasing the high of being his good girl. So, you glance downwards. Your cheeks heating up as you watch him fuck into you and the way you're being split open by him. You never thought the sight of yourself being fucked would garner such a strong reaction from you but, you've been learning quite a bit about yourself today.

"It's hot, isn't it?" He asks, a moan falling from his lips when you tighten around him, "So hot watching me fuck this pretty pussy of yours."

You've never cum just from penetration but, Chan is proving himself to be head and shoulders above every other man you've slept with. You're completely and utterly caught off guard when you cum for a second time and, Chan seems to be too. Startled, wide eyes watching you shatter in front and around him for a second time. Ever the caring gentleman as he soothes and fucks you through it.

You're barely coherent when Chan's pitchy moans of your name register to your mind and you feel his warm, thick cum flood your awaiting pussy. His hips weakly twitching into yours with ever spurt of his cum inside of you.

Honestly, it's a wonder both of you are still standing. Barely, but you're standing. Leaning into each other and the trusty wall for support as you come back to yourselves.

"If working out with you always ends up like this, we should work out together more often," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder lazily.

You really just had to fall for one of the most eye roll inducing men you've ever met, huh.

[piratefalls]

another long list, except it's a day early because this is how i give thanks.

list one. list two. list three. list four. list five.

No Sense or Sensibility by inexplicablymine

“When and where was your first kiss.” Oh shit. The thing is… Alex actually has an answer to this one, it’s just a matter of admitting that it happened. ____________________ Kennedy’s. 7pm, Pub Quiz and Ice Cream. Every Monday ‘til death due us part. Alex liked his little routine, until Derryl got it in his head to host The goddamn Newlywed Game instead.

I'm Rememberin' I Promised (to Forget you Now) by Angelwithwingsoffire

It's been six years since Alex Claremont-Diaz graduated law school. And he's made a good life for himself, working with a firm he enjoys and making a difference in the world. Until a part of his past he'd thought he'd gotten over seven years ago walked back into his office asking for his help. To get a divorce. Which Alex has never done before. But he's never been able to say no, and he's willing to put his heart back under the bus for the chance at one more smile.

Rogue's Gallery by OrchidScript

Loathe as Alex was to admit it, Henry Fox was going to be a legend someday. He already was in the bureau depending on who was answering. Tied to art theft, jewel theft, one or two little sweet confidence schemes, and an alleged counterfeit Super Bowl ring, but caught on three counts of art forgery, the blond Brit had run circles around the Art Crimes division for six years. He was quick, smarter than the average bear, and more detail-oriented than a nuclear chemist. He had a penchant for nice suits, silk ties, and gin tonics with lime. He wrote letters to agents in taunting poetry, tucking them under windshield wipers or posting them to the office directly. Once, he managed to drop one directly into the pocket of a plainclothes officer without them seeing his face. _____________________ Henry Fox is a famous art forger, and Alex is the FBI agent who caught him three years ago. When one of Henry's aliases comes up attached to a new case, can the two put aside their cat-and-mouse past to put the copycat away?

Queer little ducks hold a special place in my heart. by anarchyat4am

Henry’s at a local Hispanic Heritage Month event browsing the art stalls when his gaze catches on a kid looking around with both purpose and nervousness. She’s fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt with one hand while she bites the nails of the other one, eyes alert and searching. Lost, then. And oh, Henry recognises her. She’s a regular at his bookstore, even at only six years old, and is there at least weekly with her dad—Alex, who she’d introduced to Henry as her papi—or various aunties and uncles, most of whom Henry doesn’t think are actually related to her. Keeping one eye on her, he lets his gaze sweep the vicinity but doesn’t see anyone else he even remotely recognises. Shit. He has to do something. “Sirena?” he calls gently. * Henry... is more than a bit useless around hot guys. So when he finds the lost kid of the gorgeous dad who frequents his bookstore, he pulls himself together until they reunite, only to then be devastated by the revelation that the man thinks Henry hates him. And, well... courage always rises, and all that.

just say you won't let go by viciouslyqueer

After dancing around each other for months, Alex and Henry finally get together. The morning after comes with a slight misunderstanding and comforting words.

We were supposed to find this by kiwiana

Still, half an hour after shaking Prince Henry’s hand for the first time, he finds himself back in his hotel room with one shoe and sock hurriedly tugged off and his right foot resting on his left knee. Just to check. Just in case Alex is somehow, by some miracle, about to become the first documented case of Surprise! You Can Totally Have A Different Soulmate, We Fucked Up And Your One Kind Of Sucks. No such luck. The words are the same as they’ve always been, etched into his skin in a careful, calligraphic font. The kind of handwriting someone might have if, for example, they came from the sort of family that valued tradition and etiquette far higher than letting their children write like normal human beings.

Sit. Down. Please Stay. by politics_and_prose

Alex adopts a dog he found abandoned on the side of the road. She's nervous and he wants to make sure he knows how to give her the best life possible. Enter Henry Fox and his beagle David.

muscle memory by stutteringpeach

It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen. But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

The Perils of Midsomer Residency by clottedcreamfudge

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that care should be taken, given the Mountchristens' local influence?" Liam nods. "Sir." Luna then turns to Alex. "Do not piss anyone in that family off." Alex throws his hands in the air. "So many aspersions have been cast on my good character this morning that I could start a fucking farm. An aspersions farm." Luna narrows his eyes. "Correction," he says, "have another coffee and then do not piss anyone in that family off. Don't make me regret fast-tracking you through the ICI Development Programme." * After getting shot in the line of duty back in Texas, June forces Alex into a change of scenery. Because how much can really be going on in the quaint little English county of Midsomer?

something that feels like forever by dearestalez

“You’re crying,” she pointed out. Alex choked on a laugh, wiping his eyes. “I’m just-” he sniffed, holding her so delicately Henry felt herself melt into the touch. “I’m so happy for you, baby.” — alex and henry are so in love it makes me want to rip out my heart and stomp on it but slash pos

behind brick walls by weather_stained

After Henry and Alex move in together, it takes quite a while for them to fully adjust to their newfound freedom. Alex very much enjoys watching Henry grow more comfortable in his own skin after a lifetime of looking over his shoulder.

It's a (Birth)date by Celaestis

5 times Henry is oblivious that they're dating and 1 time he isn't.

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess by affectionatelyrs

“I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?” Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?” Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.” Alex nods dumbly. “Right.” - Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

baby boy by smc_27

It starts as a joke. Alex taking the piss about how much money Henry has. How he could have anything he wanted, from anyone he wanted, if only he just asked.

My Songs Know Secrets You're Sick of Keeping by ma_lark_ey, paythe_piper

"How about this," Alex offered, "If I win AOTY, I announce Henry and I in my acceptance speech. If I don't, we do it your way." OR: Alex is a world famous pop punk star, Henry is still the Prince of England, and the public is onto them.

Au Naturel by cmere

The French doors leading to the office are thrown open, so he has a moment to take in the scene in front of him: Alex, lying on his stomach on the floor, feet kicked up and crossed at the ankle, surrounded by books, papers, and two open laptops. None of that, however, catches Henry's attention as much as Alex's hair, secured in a small, messy knot on top of his head with nothing but a single wooden chopstick. Henry blinks rapidly several times. "Alex," Henry says, somehow hoarse. Alex's head whirls around. There's a single, perfectly curled tendril over the apple of his cheek; his scruff has hit the mystical, magical point where it's more soft beard than prickly shadow; his reading glasses sit atop his adorable nose; and Henry realizes with sudden gravity that he's not entirely in control of his physical responses anymore—something has to give. Alex hasn't really been bothering with some of his usual upkeep, and Henry is kind of extremely into it.

You deserve my love by whateveridk

“I’ll leave as soon as you tell me to." Henry had turned towards him, stealing himself, sticking his chin out, and said “leave.” Alex has been picking up the pieces ever since. Two years later, living with Nora and June in NYC, it still haunts him, but it's fine. Whatever, he is fine. And then... Breaking News: Prince Henry comes out as gay So it's not fine, Alex is not fine.

sex ed in 6 steps by coffeecatsme

“Please tell me you used a condom, Fox,” Alex drawls out, leaning against the wall, and Henry chokes on his next breath.“Excuse me?”“You’re gonna tell me all about this tomorrow, but for the love of God, tell me you used a condom and we won’t have mini Henrys on campus anytime soon.” Or, 5 times Alex thinks Henry's straight and 1 time he finds out the truth. Or, 5 times Alex jokes about Henry's sex life and 1 time he gets to be a part of it.

More Than A Makeover by everwitch

The Fab Five—Alex, June, Nora, Liam and Spencer—descend on a New York based shelter for disenfranchised queer youth to give the place a much needed makeover. As the week progresses, sparks start to fly between Alex, the culinary representative of the queertastic quintet, and Henry, the sweetly charming founder of the shelter. It’s a deeply emotional week full of unexpected realizations, and certainly a week that strengthens Henry’s friendship with Pez in ways that neither of them quite knew they needed. As the week comes to a close and the Queer Eye team say their goodbyes, it remains to be seen what will become of the warm connection between Alex and Henry. Will it last, or was it too much of a perfect miracle to ever grow into something real?

The Royal Wedding by DracoWillHearAboutThis

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE HENRY OF WALES AND MR ALEXANDER CLAREMONT-DIAZ ARE ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED HM Queen Mary is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Henry to Mr. Alexander Claremont-Diaz. The wedding will take place in the Spring or Summer of 2025, in London. Further details about the wedding date will be announced in due course.  Prince Henry and Mr. Claremont-Diaz became engaged earlier this week during a private holiday in Paris. Prince Henry has informed The Queen and other close members of his family. Prince Henry has sought and received the blessings of Mr. Claremont-Diaz's parents.  The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace. 

A Toast to the Night by allmylovesatonce

Henry looks up from his drink and swears his jaw drops. Standing in front of him is one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen. From his dark brown curls to the way his deep eyes gleam as he stands there, an awkward smile on his face. Henry is nearly sure this man is going to ask for his seat. He probably has some woman with him, scouring for a place to sit. “Uh, hi,” the man says. “Hi.” “Look, this is really awkward,” he says and Henry feels the confirmation in his gut — also maybe disappointment. “My ex-boyfriend just walked in and I really don’t want to talk to him. I was wondering if I could sit here with you so that he won’t talk to me.”

That's What You Get For Waking Up in Vegas by bleedingballroomfloor

The bartender slides Alex the whiskey and shot of water before turning her attention to the person behind him. He turns around at the same time as the person speaks, “Gin and tonic” in all rounded vowels, a distinct English accent shining through, and he swears his heart stops. “Holy shit,” Alex says before he can stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. “Henry?” When Alex is celebrating June and Nora's bachelorette party in Vegas, the last person he expects to see is his ex-boyfriend Henry, who moved back to London nearly a year ago. Waking up next to him the following morning, naked and sated with a marriage certificate poking out of his pocket, he starts to wonder if he's truly over Henry.

hang on 'til the chaos is through by ShyAudacity

David is lounging on his spot at the foot of the bed when Alex comes in. He opts not to turn on the light, not wanting to disturb Henry, but then quickly finds that the light is on in their bathroom. Henry must still be getting cleaned up before bed; Alex can say hello and check on Henry when he steps out. It’s weird that he’s still up. Henry was awake well before Alex was this morning and… come to think of it, Alex can’t remember him ever coming to bed last night. Alex has only made it through the top three buttons on his dress shirt when he hears a terrifying crash come from the bathroom. Clutching his chest, he steps towards their shared bathroom, afraid to see what’s on the other side. “Henry? …H, what was-.” Alex stops short in the doorway, startled to find the love of his life in a miserable heap on the bathroom floor.

Sad Again (Don't Tell My Boyfriend) by lucy_in_the_sky

After proposing to Alex, Henry writes a letter to his father reflecting on all the moments he’ll never get to share with him. AKA Alex comforts a mourning Henry and promises to be there for him, forever and always.

monster mash by matherine

None of Henry’s answers to “Who are you supposed to be?” are particularly funny to anyone but him, especially in his inebriated state, so he’s completely given up on making any sense when the latest person asks him, someone who he assumes is yet another sorority girl in a skimpy costume from the glimpse of a cheerleading skirt he gets while they brush past him to open the fridge. “George Villiers,” he offers. “Deep cut, England,” a decidedly male voice snorts, and Henry can’t help the way his head snaps up, eyes wide.

Take it Down Low / Make Me Get High by Mags (sparklepocalypse)

“Henry,” Alex rasps wonderingly, sounding almost entranced, “I want to eat your ass.” Henry’s train of thought screeches to a halt with such force that for a moment, he thinks he might’ve had a stroke.

how did a middle-class divorcé do it? by Time_Sequence

Not really concerned, Alex watched the typing bubble appear – disappear – appear again, like Henry couldn’t quite find the words to say what it was he was thinking. Most likely, he was trying to find the perfect sarcastic quip in response. What came through made him genuinely pause. HRH Prince Dickhead💩: You complete and utter moron Then, HRH Prince Dickhead💩: Royalty can’t marry divorcees If Alex had been having a good time before, he definitely wasn’t now. - When a joking interview reveals that Alex and Nora drunkenly married ten years ago, suddenly Alex's upcoming wedding to Prince Henry is jeopardised.

discreet packaging by demigodbeautiies

“Please, please, please explain to me,” Zahra says, finally, sounding more than a little bit long-suffering. “Why I had to have the head of the Secret Service sit me down and tell me to give you a talk about avoiding bomb scares with unidentifiable packaging.”

the world watched (and the world smiled) by fangirl6202

"Oh,” Alex says finally, faintly, touching one hand to his lips. Then: “Shit.”  His mind catches up then, realizing that Henry is walking away and he doesn't even think twice. He begins to quite literally chase after him, trying to get to him before he can get away or, God forbid, try to fly back to England and ghost him.   Henry is very pointedly not looking at him, stuttering apology over apology until Alex has to quite literally throw himself in front of him to get him to stop. Alex doesn’t know what to do. But the answer is simple, isn’t it? So fucking simple.   He takes Prince Fucking Charming’s lapels into his hand and kisses him back.  Or; it's New Years, and Henry stays.

Rabbit Hole by TuppingLiberty

Some sort of non-famous au, don't worry, there's not really a plot. Alex has been going down a research rabbit hole for hours and Henry comes to rescue him.

Let Loose Your Glow by athousandrooms

“Seems like my liege was caught in a situation where he’d rather the ground swallow him whole.” Pez nods towards a spot to the side, and Alex follows his gaze. He spots Henry easily – a tall lighthouse of tousled blond hair – talking to a girl who is clearly into him. His expression looks perfectly polite, but he’s subtly leaning away, and he looks tense. So, Alex makes an impulsive decision. Whatever happens, this is going to be fun. *** Or: Alex is so very definitely straight, so pretending to be Henry’s boyfriend to get him out of an awkward situation should just be a fun little pastime - except that he doesn't really want to stop, and he has no idea why. But maybe it's okay to not think too hard and let himself go with the flow, for once.

Things I Cannot Accept by SprigsofViolets

In 2016, Ellen Claremont lost the presidential election. In 2019, Alex Claremont-Diaz is not the first son of the United States, so he’s shocked when his path crosses with Prince Henry for the first time in almost four years.

How well you play...that's up to you by happinessofthepursuit

Treacherous (adjective) guilty of or involving betrayal or deception; (of ground, water, conditions, etc.) hazardous because of presenting hidden or unpredictable dangers. Or, how to describe surgical residency in a single word. A Grey's Anatomy inspired AU.

In Accord by absoluteaudacity

Pursuant to the establishment of an ongoing relationship between The Crown and the Office of the President of the United States, the representatives of the The Queen and Her interests are authorised to establish a contract of marriage between His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales and Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

A Heart Even More Your Own by chaa_kiao

“Guess you’ll be writing those poems after all.” He swallows. "I should go." Henry’s mind— every part of him, really— his heart, his body, his fucking soul— is screaming at him to take it all back. To hell with the monarchy, the American presidency, damn it all. This is the man he’s spent his entire life loving and he’s throwing it away for a legacy he doesn’t give a single fuck about. He forces out a rough “I think so,” but he can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. “I love you.” “Alex—” “I know,” Alex says. “I just had to say it.” _______ Or: Alex and Henry getting back together takes a little bit longer this time.

you are my mountain (you are my sea) by alasse

Five times Alex and Henry have important conversations in houses, and one time they have a very important conversation in a castle.

Down For the Count by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates)

Alex came to Las Vegas to count cards, not feelings. Henry came to win it all. Is it possible to find something real in Sin City, where nearly everything isn’t as it seems? OR Goodbye reality, hello Vegas (the blackjack/poker AU).

Let Them Eat Cake by rohruh

“I wanna eat you out,” Alex’s voice comes out raspy and intrepid through the phone pressed against Henry’s ear. Henry lets out a soft whine at the admission, his breath up-ticking in synchrony with his hips as he thrusts up into his hand. “I’d like that,” he tells Alex eagerly, cradling the phone in his palm as though he could materialize Alex right there in front of him if he presses it against his ear firmly enough. “I’ve never done it to a guy before,” Alex confesses. “Is it… different from eating out a girl? I bet you’d taste so good, baby. Fuck.”

A Thousand Words by Thunder_Cakes

After that Han/Leia mural both their accounts go silent for a while. For months, actually. They’re both in therapy after Alex tried to post a selfie with June after election night and had a panic attack before he could hit “Share.” Suddenly the thought of sharing the details of his life and loved ones with the world is paralyzing. Wonder why. or: Alex, Henry and what they choose to share of their life

All for a Taste of the Honey by chamel

“So you’re telling me you’re not in favor of this plan,” Henry says eventually. “No, I’m fucking not,” Alex huffs, glaring at him. “It’s stupid and dangerous and unnecessary.” Henry cocks one perfect eyebrow at him. “You have another idea for how to get access to the room where he does his deals? The one that only ever admits Vega, his associates, and the strippers who entertain them?” (Or, an FBI agent!Stripper!Henry fic. Henry goes undercover at a strip club, and Alex has a lot of feelings about that.)

in the mood for... by carzla

Henry knows that he’s the one who said “casual”, and it had been a reminder to himself that that was all it could ever be between him and Alex. So, telling Alex that they should “make love” is probably a mistake in syntax bigger than he could safely afford. But they’re in Paris and Henry is feeling terribly, terribly maudlin.

something good and right and real by HypnosTheory

“This is pretty expensive for a high school trinket.” “Everything is bigger in Texas,” Alex jokes. Henry looks up at Alex, who’s standing with his shoulders relaxed for the first time since October. The relief of his mother’s victory has made him loose-limbed and calm, his smile easy and lovely. Henry looks down at the crown in his hands and back at Alex. He imagines the gold half-buried in Alex’s hair, heavy on the man’s brow, decadent and royal. Henry swallows, face heating, and holds the crown out to Alex. “Put it on.” -- After the election, Henry explores Alex’s childhood room. He finds trinkets of a young Alex that intrigue him, including a crown that gives him some ideas.

In His Wildest Dreams by myheartalive

Once Alex has pulled out, Henry turns over to face him. He strokes the hair softly away from his face and Alex smiles at him. “So… that happened again.” Henry leans forward and kisses him on the forehead. “Indeed.” There’s a sort of thoughtful pause, where Henry can see Alex working to pull together the right words. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you that… thirsty?” “Oh, bugger off,” Henry says, but he’s laughing. It’s a fair description. “No, but I mean it. You were like… urgent. It was hot.” “It felt hot. I liked waking up like that. With you up against me, trying to have your way with me.” — Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process — Mind the tags, y'all. That particular tag features prominently and it’s a major plot point, so if that’s not your jam, just hit the back button.

until next time!

[therealvinelle]

Favorite month for each of the cullens? For James’ coven?

I'm fascinated, why James's coven? But alright.

The Cullens

Alice likes parties, she likes decorating, she likes to have a reason to decorate the house for a party. And nothing says parties, decor, and finding a way to be modern, somehow sexy, yet tasteful and teaming up with Esme like Christmas and New Years' Eve. Plus the sun sets much earlier so she can go shopping at human hours, use atmospheric outdoor lighting, and have all sorts of seasonal fun that simply doesn't work the same in the Summer months (and Spring and Autumn are... so wet...). It's December for Alice.

Carlisle likes when he can be out longer, when the snow is still pristine and when there are happy festivities happening. He would uncomplicatedly be a December person, except the festivities are... dampened... by the family and partner violence and suicide attempts he gets at the end of the month. He's a December person who sees it as the time he has to save more people than usual, and also the snow is pretty.

Edward is for the fall months, because fall is such a beautiful time of year and more importantly he can think gloomy thoughts about nature following the cycle of life, every year it comes to life then dies again while he lives on. November... the twilight of the year, that brief flash of rapidly passing weeks just before the darkest time of the year and the death that is winter rolls in.

Emmett loves Christmas. There is no doubt in my mind Rosalie does a "Happy birthday, Mr. President" routine, and that they have some horrible lane about making their own fireworks for New Years' Eve. December is awesome, bro.

Esme loves family, festivities, and the joy of exchanging gifts with loved ones. Christmas is a wonderful time of year, but so too are the days leading up to Christmas, when she can put out the decorations and have a meaningful way of marking the passage of time for a few weeks. December.

Jasper enjoys the happy emotions coming from his family. December.

Renesmee's concept of the passage of time is completely warped. She dutifully says "December" when asked about her favorite month because that seems to be the done thing in this family.

Rosalie has thoughts about how Christmas is a time to be spent with family, specifically with children who believe in Santa Claus and miracles, and while she has a family there's a very central part of Christmas she'll never have, just as she can't enjoy any of the little things that made Christmas what it is, such as gingerbread cookies. It's another painful reminder, but so is her entire life. Renesmee helps heal this for her, in that there's now a child she can have many if not all of these Christmassy things she wanted to experience with, and also in that I somehow know several years of Christmases with the entire extended Black-Clearwater-Cullen-Swan family will be such a clusterfuck, everyone except Bella sensing the tensions, that Rosalie will be completely disillusioned as to what "family Christmas, just like the humans have it!" will never be appealing to her again.

James & co

Victoria prefers whichever month of the year rains most in whichever region of the world she's in. Rain washes away her scent, she can hide, and that makes for a happy Victoria.

James shares Victoria's preference, as more rain makes the hunt more difficult and he loves a challenge

Laurent thinks these people are fucking weird, rain ruins his hair and clothes and can we get a house? Laurent would like a house. ("How badly" is a question he must ask himself chez the Denali.)

[werecreature-addicted]

GOD OKAY OKAY.

first ask.. little bit nervous hehe but I just wanted to share this with you!!

thinking about that werewolf cum changing + "were partner x human inable to have children" mashed together. like what if werewolf cum manipulated the biology enough that they would no longer be infertile..

there's just SO MANY WAYS this could turn out

you're infertile!! and yet you want a baby!! you scour up and down until you find this affordable option through means that seem.. trustworthy enough, you suppose!!

and what is this method? getting fucked by a werewolf and filled so full of his cum that your biology changes and boom now you have a litter of werewolf children!! ( It's not selling sex, they swore to you. It's a purely business natured transaction )

um, except.. now you have a craving for werewolf dick all day everyday. oopsies?

OR OR

infertile reader and werewolf partner!! reader doesn't know that their partner's cum can cure them of their infertility, just that it would change their biology, and werewolf partner that somehow doesn't know that reader doesn't know this and just thinks they aren't ready for kids so they employ some sort of magical thing that keeps their cum from changing your biology, which they don't necessarily want, and getting you pregnant.

anyway!! reader comes home excited leaping into their partner's arms with a surprise in their hands - a bottle of miracle pills that are said to cure infertility!! there's side effects like.. mm getting horny ( though that's a good thing, wasn't it? to encourage procreation ) and an increased chance of having more kids, but these don't seem like bad things.

werewolf partner takes a single look at it and throws it in the trash, incensed. why would you need pills of other people's cum when they're right there?? you would rather eat someone else's cum than get it straight from the source? huh?

werewolf partner takes the pills as a sign that you're ready to have kids and fucks the shit out of you

afterwards you have a conversation and clear up the misunderstandings and assert that you're ready for your body to go through these changes to have children with him ( when before you didn't particularly see the point in them if you couldn't have children anyway and didn't want it to somehow hinder your daily life ).

and then you fuck a whole lot yay

OR

just werewolf partner determined to fuck a baby into infertile reader who tells them it doesn't work that way ( but very much enjoys the fucking and creampies they get from it. in fact that's all they seem to be thinking about these days.. )

and then reader gets pregnant

HDJSISKDKDJ brainrot

listen listen listen. it's a perfectly safe, medical, procedure where you get rawed by a horny werewolf 2-3 times a day for 2-4 weeks to try and get pregnant. it's like physical therapy there's nothing sexual about it, side effects may include getting addicted to werewolf cok but every medicine has its risks.

uhm also for consideration. what if werewolf cum works if taken orally as well. most wolves don't like their seed "going to waste" down your throat instead of pumped directly into your womb but if you're having fertility issues then this might be a good way to start you off.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello amazing mod team! I was wondering if you know of any fics involving Crowley taking care of an injured/sick/Fallen Aziraphale, or vice versa? The fluffier the better. I also typically don't read AUs. Thank you all so much for what you do here. Much love!

Hi! You can check our #sick fic, #hurt aziraphale, #hurt crowley, and #fallen angel aziraphale tags for more fics like this. Here are more fluffy hurt and sick Aziraphale fics to add...

Unsteady Breaths by Elijahsworld (NR)

Happily unboxing his new collection of books, the thought that anything he would receive could be harmful to his angelic being never crossed his mind. Or Aziraphale falls ill but Crowley's there to comfort him through these rough times.

Made it out of our cages, never made it back home by ethewinter (NR)

"We were a team," said Crowley. "And a damn good one at that. I never... Out of all of the people who could've betrayed me, angel, I never would have thought it would be you. Not in a thousand lifetimes. You want to know why I'm still hurt?" Crowley straightened and looked directly into Aziraphale's eyes. His yellow eyes were filled with tears. "I never would've done this to you. Never. I don't fucking care what you think, we're an us. We've always been an us. You running off to play archangel doesn't make that different." - Aziraphale's promotion to supreme archangel doesn't work out. Crowley's left to pick up the pieces.

so I’ll take care of you (and honey, you’ll take care of me too) by sugardustedtulips (T)

“Angels don’t sneeze,” Crowley began, letting a few seconds of silence fill the atmosphere. “Wait, do they?” “I don’t know, dear. But, not to worry, I’ll be all tickety-boo in no time. It’s just the weather, you see, icy all around,” Aziraphale remarked, his tone a smidge too polite and formal for the situation. “My corporation’s merely responding to the changes-“ He had begun, before another sneeze so rudely punctuated his sentence. The muffled mucus-filled sniffles were loud enough to be transmitted to the other end of the phone, the worry in the demon’s chest rising, pounding on his ribs. “‘m coming over,” Crowley said matter-of-factly, hoping Aziraphale couldn’t somehow sense that both his legs are anxiously bouncing at breakneck speed.

Unwilling to waste miracles on himself, Aziraphale can’t miracle himself better after catching a cold. Luckily, a certain lovesick demon is there to take care of him. A sickening amount of fluff ensues (and many feelings are realised).

at the edge of the water by viperinz (G)

“Hello, dearest. Do you mind miracling a cold pack for me? I’m afraid I can’t focus enough to do it.” Crowley swallows, his eyes wide. He does what he’s asked to do, because of course he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. He walks to the side Aziraphale is facing, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He hands the cold pack to Aziraphale, who gratefully takes it. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Crowley watches as he puts the pack on his right thigh. Aziraphale sighs in relief, but his face still conveys how much pain he still feels. And, Crowley gets it now. The pain that needed a cold pack, the way that Aziraphale was limping. It was an injury, wasn’t it?

Crowley notices that there's something going on with Aziraphale's leg. He realizes the pain lies deeper than he first thought it would.

Eye for an Eye by Greenathena (T)

A year before the Apocalypse, Aziraphale is suddenly struck blind, losing both his corporeal and ethereal vision. To make matters worse, he's just discovered that Heaven may have some new technology to hasten the end of the world.

so grey the face of every mortal by philadelea (T)

"Now, some 6,000 years, several historical rescues, and one half-Apocalypse later, that promise tasted like ash in Crowley’s mouth. " It's been six months since Armaggeddidn't. Aziraphale has been in Hell for the last three weeks. Crowley is there to pick up the pieces.

- Mod D

[tcfactory]

Silly idea of the day is Mobei-jun breaking Tianlang-jun out from under the mountain because he looked the workload of running the entire demon realm in the eye and said no thank you, fuck that noise.

I've been thinking about Tianlang-jun and all the time he spent wandering the human realm and it probably means one of two things:

He is Junshang in-name-only, sort of like Binghe, where he's the strongest so he can go wherever he pleases and do whatever he wants. Only the benefits, no actual ruling, but nobody can effectively dethrone him because heavenly demon too strong.

He does all his obligatory ruling, but he is really efficient about it. He goes back to the demon realm for like a week every so often when he holds open court for a few days, deals with all the piled up paperwork and then leaves everything in the hands of competent subordinates as he goes back to living his best life doing whatever

And if it's that second one I can imagine it would be something Mobei-jun, who seem to like spending much of his day resting, would probably admire if he ever met the old Junshang. That's the sort of efficiency he strives to achieve too, but preferably on a smaller scale, so he can have all the uninterrupted naps in Qinghua's bed he wants.

But then Luo Binghe climbs back out of the endless abyss and beats Mobei-jun and tries to recruit him to his cause, by virtue of I Beat You I'm Your Boss Now. Mobei usually doesn't mind that sort of thing, except after spending a few excruciating hours in Binghe's company he comes to the dreadful realization that, by demon standards, the new wannabe Junshang has the leadership qualities and general charisma of a wet tissue. Binghe is 100% Shizun-brained, which is not that unusual, demons do often feel that kind of singular devotion to their mates, but he absolutely doesn't have the right upbringing to function around that emotion.

Unless Mobei-jun can get off this ride really fucking quickly then he's going to be stuck doing all the practical parts of ruling the united demon realm, while Luo Binghe does his best impression of a househusband to his beloved Shizun.

No more time for lazy weekends when he can hunt to his leisure and ignore petitions for a few days. No more slacking off in Qinghua's home. And speaking of Qinghua, more work for Mobei-jun is inevitably more work for Shang Qinghua.

If Shang Qinghua gets swamped with even more work then he might actually go through with his often mumbled threats of leaving Mobei-jun.

He can't allow that to happen.

But Mobei-jun is currently no match for Luo Binghe and who knows when he will inherit his clan's ancestral power, so he needs to find someone else who can beat the half-heavenly demon for him. Someone he wouldn't mind serving if it comes to that.

It's really not as difficult as he expects to find out where the cultivators have sealed Tianlang-jun. The arrays give him some trouble, but nothing he can't solve by making a copy that he sneaks into Shang Qinghua's paperwork. Not letting him know the importance of something is a good way to make sure it gets solved along with the routine stuff, because Qinghua will just do it on autopilot instead of worrying about it and overthinking it.

All in all, it's a piece of cake. Tianlang-jun is recovered and nursed back to health with the ridiculous amount of miracle flowers Mobei-jun has picked up over the years for Qinghua. He might have actually come out of this stronger than he was before and without an ailing body to nerf him there really isn't much that can stand against Tianlang-jun. Xin Mo who? A sword is as strong as the person wielding it and against the combined might of two heavenly demons and Mobei's portal powers Luo Binghe comes up short. Long live the old Junshang, thank fuck he's back.

Tianlang-jun's newfound fixation with taking revenge on the cultivators is a bit of an issue, but Mobei-jun is certain Qinghua will find a way to placate him somehow. He has all that dirt on Huan Hua Palace after all, maybe eradicating the sect that was the loudest voice for imprisoning him will be enough to sate the Junshang's bloodthirst. Anyway, in the meantime the demon realm is finally running as it should and Mobei can look forward to a future filled with lazy afternoons and plenty of free time he can spend with his human.

As far as he's concerned, all is right in the world.

[respocked]

I'm thinking about work anyway so fuck it

Star Trek Public Primary School AU 🛸 !

Kirk

-the headmaster!

-went into education because of his own unfortunate childhood

-has an uncanny ability to tell which student has a bad home life

-remembers everyone's name, even if you went to his school 5 years ago for 2 months

-misbehaving teenagers send to his office get some candy and a motivational speech that changes the course of their lifetime

-most days can be found hovering suspiciously outside of spock's classroom

-way better with older students, 12-13 - has absolutely 0 idea what to do with young children

-which is awkward when while waiting for spock outside his classroom he tries to make small talk with them (-so... son... read any good books lately? -i can't read!)

Spock

- teaches early education, 6 to 9 year olds

-greatly overqualified for the position, had a human psychology degree, interspecies child development degree, highly regarded in scientific community

-could be teaching university but prefers to spend his time sitting on carpets with children drawing clouds

-his class is extremely nontraditional - no desks, sitting on the floor, tons of meditation, classes in nature

-does not adhere to the program at all but somehow his classes always score the best on all exams

-turned down a position in a trendy montessori school for a public one

-parents either go out his way for their child to attend his class or request someone else - either from homophobic or xeniphobic reasons

Uhura

-the school's cultural assistant!

-also runs student exchanges with other countries and planets

-speaks every minority language that has representation in the student body

-also a substitute teacher

-she can give a super interesting lessons

-but takes 0 shit from students who won't respect her

-runs an extracurricular activity with spock when she teaches immigrant and refugee students to express their emotions with music

-is the best at pitching a project idea for funding, which is why her office and spock's classrom are the best equipped ones in the school

-spock's bestie, they hang out after work (gay/lesbian solidatity)

-still lives with her parents, they're super close

-wants to date but it's too boring compared to writing another lesson plan

Bones

-the school nurse! & in charge of nutrition

-teenagers are afraid of him

-small children absolutely love him

-takes his daughter to work and lets her draw with crayons on his important papers

-also constantly in spock's classroom, but to complain

-"damnit, spock! give them all the vulcan cuisine you want, but don't send them crying to me after they get an allergic reaction!"

-"meditation? maybe have them meditate on doing some real work for once"

-but when parents with pitchforks come to complain abt spock's methods he defends him like a lion

-he sends them piles after piles of scientific proof of why spock's method are actually the bestest and most efficient

-when kirk thanks him for stepping in he pretends like he doesn't know what he's talking about

Chapel

-teaches sex ed!

-the sweetest teacher ever

-one of those teachers that noone is intimidated by but noone disobeys because noone wants to makes her upset

-uses her Blonde White Straight Pretty Woman priviledge to convince reluctant parents to sign up their kids for sex ed

-goes All Out on halloween tho

-you know she is there, dressed like a witch, running an educational halloween themed activity! paper bats hanging from the ceiling!

-has gluten free and vegan candy in case the winners have a food sensivity!

-has a secret crush on Uhura and Spock both

Chekov

-teaches IT

-burned out miracle kid

-graduated university when he was younger than his current students

-lets students play roblox on the computers

-and teaches them how to torrent

-somehow noone from the faculty knows where he lives

-background check turns up nothing

-"did you know computers were invented in russia?"

-puts 0 effort in but somehow his students love him

-little girls take sneak photos of him to edit in a flower crowns

Scotty

-teaches a woodworking & engineering class and does janitor duties on the side!

-like kirk, absolutely 0 idea on how to treat younger kids

-strict

-has to be, no joking around power tools!

-but you know praise from him hits different

-will tell students he's proud of them when they make theit first little table

-can fix everything

-say "this interactive blackboard is broken!" three times to summon him

-marries to his career, teaching fulfills his paternal calling

Sulu

-teaches biology!

-rule follower

-stressed out about exams 3 years before his students

-not very inventive but everyone wants his class because there is a hamster in the classroom

-classroom full of houseplants

-if you agree to water them when he's away you will receive a 50 page manual on proper misting techniques

-not strict at all but will give a dressing down to a student who is seen treating a living thing badly

-can be bribed with plants

[kandisheek]

Cap-Ironman Rec Week 2024

Cap-IM Sunday: July 28th

Prompt: Rec all your favorite works created for one of the Cap-IronMan challenges!

Finishing this week with a bang, here are some of my favorite fics that came about due to the tireless work that the mods over at Cap-IM do for us every year. Please take the time to browse their collections as well, because the talent in this fandom is out of this world:

-- Never Too Late for Love by Sineala

Steve has always believed that a soulbond is a blessing -- a rare and beautiful miracle, joining the thoughts and feelings of two people forever, from the first time they touch. Steve knows he's not going to be one of the lucky ones. He knows Gail isn't his soulmate. But he loves her, even if they're not soulmates, and he's going to do right by her. After the war's over, he's going to marry her, and they're going to settle down. They'll buy a house. They'll have children. He'll see his family again. Maybe Bucky will live next door. It's going to be a good life. He doesn't need a soulbond. He'll be fine without one. Then Steve wakes up sixty years in the future to find that his wonderful life has moved on without him. His family is long dead. His fiancée married his best friend. And the only purpose he has left is leading the Ultimates, a misbegotten team of superheroes with flaws too numerous to count. Steve hates everything about the future -- but most of all he detests Tony, flashy and flirtatious, who embodies everything Steve hates about a world he never wanted to live in. And, oh, yeah, Steve has a soulmate after all: Tony fucking Stark.

-- The Heart of the Temple by CSHfic, VSfic

After an expedition to find an ancient relic goes awry, Tony finds himself magically bound to a Roman soldier who has spent the last two thousand years guarding the temple, and who is now bound to protect him from harm. Stranger things have certainly happened, but Tony is having a hard time coming up with them now.

-- Therapeutic Guidelines by kellifer_fic

"Are you suggesting I get a bunch of bunk beds in here and squeeze us all into one room?" Tony scoffs and the woman just looks at him. "No, wait-"

MORE RECS BELOW THE CUT:

-- A Long, Lonely Time by asktheravens

Steve returned from the war injured in body and mind- and able to see the dead. At loose ends and desperate to get out of New York City, he accepts a fellowship through the Stark Foundation and retreats to a quiet lake house on the grounds of the Stark Mansion. He's supposed to be there to paint, but he quickly realizes that the house is more than he bargained for. Anthony Stark died here a decade ago, but was it an accident? A suicide? Or a murder? Obadiah Stane still lives in the main house just up the hill, and the past casts a long shadow. When Tony's ghost begins appearing to him, Steve becomes more entwined in the dangerous mystery surrounding his death. Even worse, he finds himself falling for a man who died a decade ago... Features lots of ghosts, murder, secrets, and supernatural revenge. Also Thor and Rhodey.

-- Personal Use by dirigibleplumbing

“It’s for. Personal use,” Steve says. Tony deserves a fucking medal for not commenting on that. Fuck, how is he supposed to get anything done after this? Or ever, for that matter. Every time he suits up he’ll know—he’ll know—that Steve Rogers fucks himself with a toy made out of Tony’s armor.

-- On Camera by FestiveFerret

Steve's heart skipped a beat. It was beyond ridiculous to get attached to one of his regular clients but somehow, over the last six months, he had. StarkNakedGenius wasn't logged on for every show, far from it, but he was on for a lot of them, and whenever he was, he tipped like mad.

-- Weighing of the Heart by scifigrl47

Steve Rogers hasn't really had a particularly easy life. He's struggled along, he's proud of himself, he's self-sufficient and capable and he works damn hard. He has friends and a purpose and he's only a few semesters from graduating college. He's managed, but his life has been far from easy. That's mostly because of a slight filing error. The last thing that Steve needed was someone to watch over him. The only thing that his Guardian Angel needs is a second chance to make a first impression.

-- Can't start a fire without a spark by gottalovev

The Avengers might be reunited, but they are holding together with a Band-Aid and a severe case of Tony pretending nothing happened. The superficial truce is shattered the day Steve takes control of Tony's suit and forces him to go to medical in a tense situation. When Tony is ordered to take a vacation, Steve volunteers to go with him.

And two of my own fics:

-- Gift of Consequence

Steve remembers the old wives' tale of the dragon in the mountain, sleeping on a pile of gold. He has never paid it any mind, but when his mother gets sick and time and money is of the essence... he might reconsider believing in fairytales.

-- We Are Briefly Gorgeous

Tony finds himself in a gay bar right after signing his divorce papers, drowning his sorrows. Turns out the handsome stranger that chats him up is just the distraction he needs.

[anexperimentallife]

A few things you should know about shitty US electoral politics (long post)

Neither party gives a fuck about you, and the leadership of BOTH parties support the genocide in Gaza, but you already knew that.

HOWEVER, various prominent GOP figures ALSO supported a right-wing domestic coup attempt, want to ban abortion nationwide (overturning Roe v Wade was a step along the way to that), want draconian restrictions on birth control, to ban same-sex marriage, ban sex education, ban any and all queer-positive literature, want to "phase out" social security and medicare, to completely rewrite US history textbooks nationwide with a nationalist agenda that erases US crimes against non-white peoples (already done in some states), allow US law enforcement to stop anyone darker than mayonnaise and demand to see their papers, start a nuclear war, abolish the minimum wage, outlaw their political rivals, weaponize the justice department, FBI, and other federal agencies against their political rivals, outlaw dissent of any kind, and remove restrictions against using US troops against US citizens (see Tuberville's blocking of top military appointees so that a future GOP president can appoint GOP/Trump loyalists to those positions, the way they blocked judicial/SCOTUS nominees in order to get Roe v Wade overturned).

The GOP openly states that they know the only way they win elections is by keeping non-right-wing voters away from the polls, and they invest heavily in, among other things, online psyops to convince people not to vote. And it works, because right wing voters ALWAYS show up to the polls.

Every time a right wing candidate wins, Dem leadership goes, "Huh, I guess we need to field more conservative candidates if we want to win elections." The idea being that if they can somehow "meet in the middle," they'll get the conservative vote. (Hint: They won't.)

So what convinces the Dems to run more progressive candidates? Overwhelming support at the ballot box for leftist candidates on the local and primary levels--school board elections, senators and representatives at the state and federal level, sheriffs, judges, mayoral and city council races, and various other local and regional elected positions. That's it. The only two things they understand are money and winning.

Whomever wins the presidency and gets enough congressional support gets to appoint federal and supreme court judges, top military officials, and various other decision-makers. THIS IS HOW THE GOP WAS ABLE TO OVERTURN ROE V WADE.

The US can't be fixed in a single election cycle. Every cycle in which the GOP wins, however, pushes the Dems further to the right AND allows the GOP more power to enact their vision.

Yes, we need viable third parties. Unfortunately, barring a miracle, third parties and independents are right now viable only in some local, and possibly a few congressional races.

In order for third parties to be viable for things like presidential elections, we're most likely going to need ranked choice voting--which, again, we may eventually get by pushing progressive candidates at the state and local level--publicly-funded elections, the abolition of the electoral college (both Bush and Trump lost the popular vote, and were only awarded victory because of the electoral college), and the repeal of Citizens United (which essentially legalized large-scale corporate bribery of candidates).

Look, we all hate Biden, and refusing to vote for him (or whatever other shitbag candidate the Dems run) might feel good, but it is also likely to result in a GOP win--which means MORE support for genocide the world over, and the GOP gaining more power to enact their wish list, which I partially enumerated above.

How many people do you think will die under a nationwide abortion ban? How do you think it's going to work out if a far-right president has the authority to unleash US troops on protesters? How many seniors and disabled folks do you think will suffer and die if Social Security and Medicare are abolished? How many will suffer and die if Trump gets his wet dream of a nuclear war?

I mean, the US has already bombed its own people for not toeing the capitalist/white supremacist line, sponsored coups against foreign leaders and replaced them with dictators, and invaded or threatened to invade foreign countries for not bowing to US corporate interests (look up the origins of the term "banana republic," "overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom," and "1953 Iran coup," for just a few examples), experimented on US citizens without their knowledge (look up "tuskegee syphilus study," among many other things) and so on, and so on.

And if the GOP gains control of all three branches of government, it's going to get even worse.

Today's GOP is more rabidly extremist than at any other time in my life. And as I said, I'm OLD, dude. I was born the year Kennedy was assassinated. Among my early memories are watching the first lunar landing, watching Nixon's "I am not a crook" speech, and seeing news footage of the US withdrawal from Vietnam. And I'm telling you, today's GOP makes the GOP of my youth look practically benign in comparison.

I used to roll my eyes at the refrain of, "this is the most important election of your life," and the "blue no matter who" folks, but man... The 2016 election really WAS the most important, but only SO FAR.

Because the GOP--due to the facts that GOP/Trump supporters voted, and many others didn't--will most likely control the Supreme Court for DECADES to come, and currently control the Senate. If they gain the presidency, retain control of the Senate, and take control of the House, all may be lost.

Again, the far right openly states that keeping non-conservatives from voting is how they win, and they invest a lot in gerrymandering, voter roll purges, and online psyops to make that happen. Doing exactly what the fash want "but for leftist/progressive reasons" isn't the own you think it is. Funny--I hear the same folks who mock far right voters for voting against their own best interests say they're "protesting" by refusing to vote--when that's exactly how the far right wins.

Look, I'm old. I was planning to live my final years outside the US, eventually immigrating to the Republic of Ireland or Uruguay or somewhere like that, but now that I have a child, I'm being forced to return to the US for at least a few years so I can use my medical benefits to live long enough to see her grow up. If she ever needs an abortion, or birth control, or to fight a discrimination or sexual harassment case, or simply to speak her mind without fear of being arrested or killed for it, or needs social security or Medicare because of a disability, I want her to have those things.

Another argument I've heard is that, "Voting doesn't change anything." Well, when I was a kid, mixed-race marriages were FINALLY legalized across the US, and schools became multiracial. More recently, same-sex marriage was made the law of the land. Conservatives fought all of those things, but voting made them happen.

On the flip side, thanks to the far right takeover of SCOTUS, Roe v Wade was overturned as an end result of the far right winning elections. (And again, this is just part one of their plan for a nationwide abortion ban.)

So don't look at it as voting FOR whatever shitbag the Dems run; look at it as voting AGAINST a full-on right-wing takeover of the US and buying time to make some fundamental changes. Voting doesn't mean you can't ALSO march, etc.

Or I mean, if you want a nationwide abortion ban, a nuclear war, MORE genocide, and all the other stuff of right-wing wet dreams, and want a far right takeover of the US while you tell yourself, "Yeah, but I maintained my moral purity," then by all means withhold your vote. Just don't delude yourself about the outcome.

[vroomvroommbtch]

Versace on the floor - DR x fem!OC

Masterlist

Summary: After meeting by accident, neither of them wanted to leave the bed the morning after and neither of them really planned to after all.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!OC

Warnings: Smut, swearing, fluff all over the place.

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: I’m just posting this bc it was finished and I needed to get distracted with something and that something was editing this. Its kind of short but whaever. Just not the best day today. We knew it was gonna happen but news kicked me really hard personally. Take care and see you in a while, kids. 🫶🏻

---

Versace on the floor.

-

January 2018.

She woke up by a warm body stirring by her side, but she didn't need to try to remember what had happened or where she was. She knew perfectly the name of the man who was holding her tightly against his body and she knew where that comfortable warm bed was. That was one of the reasons why she didn't want to move even if she was awake. She didn't want to ruin it. She didn't want it to end, so she pretended to be asleep, snuggling up by his side and hiding her face even more in his neck.

It was the fact that it all felt like a dream that made Jas not want it to end. Meeting Daniel the previous night was nothing but a crazy miracle that she wasn't expecting. She wasn't supposed to be there at the bar, she wasn't even in the mood to go, but Cam and Sara insisted they couldn't lose the chance of going out on their first night in Monaco. The next thing she knew, a handsome tall man was telling her how his friend on the other side of the bar was dying to talk to her and buy her a drink, but that he was scared as fuck to do it because she was too beautiful. At that moment she had no idea who he was, in fact, she didn't find out until they made it to his place and she saw the trophies and helmets in the living room. That moment was when Jas figured out he did something more than 'work with cars' as Daniel said he did. But she didn't really care about it, she insisted he didn't have to say a thing about his real job until the next morning because it was fine for her as long as he didn't do anything illegal. After spending the night talking, laughing, dancing and drinking, she didn't want anything to ruin it, so she rather not know so Daniel would have some peace of mind knowing whatever he did wasn't the reason why she was there.  

And that was exactly what happened, after playing hard to get all to end up asking him if he wanted to leave the bar with her and after making him wait for a kiss until the door of his apartment was closed, Jas finally regarded Daniel for his patience. The first piece of clothing to disappear was his party shirt, well forgotten on the black couch in the small living room as Daniel unzipped her dress. She has been dying to take each and every single one of his clothes off his body since the moment she saw his smile from the other side of the bar, but somehow they took their good time doing it. They took their time kissing as their hands roamed every part of skin they could find, taking moan after moan from their mouths. But then it was just them, little black dress, Versace shirt and everything else absolutely forgotten around the apartment, all while Daniel memorized her body, placing kiss after kiss while they lay over his bed. But she thought she was in heaven the second she felt his hands holding up her spread legs so he could get lost between them. And the amount of time Daniel spent there was ridiculous, but Jas didn't complain about it at all. All she did was beg for him to keep going as he made her cum in his tongue, fingers grabbing into his curls so hard that she was scared to hurt him. But she was far from hurting him, and the only thing that her grip on him did was make him smile wildly, promising that she haven't seen nothing yet.  

And he was nothing but right. Nobody ever took the time trying to learn her body like him. No other man ever took so much time trying to figure out what she liked. No other man has ever been worshiped in such a way. But adobe all, nobody ever fucked her like Daniel did. The moans he took out of her, the way he kissed her, the way he moved against her body, everything was just absolutely incredible. It felt like a bad joke from the universe to send Daniel in one of the weirdest moments of her life, but she figured out it was for something. Damn, it had to mean something when he their bodies fitted perfectly. She knew there must be a reason, especially when he was looking down at her wondering if she could ride him and cum one last time for him. And how could she ever say no to that handsome face, especially when he spent God knew how much time fucking her tortuously slowly until she was nothing but a mess of moans that were going to bother more than one neighbor.  

And if all he did in bed wasn't enough, Daniel obviously had to be a gentleman once they were done. He told her to stay, cleaned the mess between her legs, and asked if she needed something, which only made Jas smile absolutely happy. But even after all that, what she wasn't expecting was for Daniel to ask her to stay. She was looking for ways to not make it awkward because that was the last thing she wanted after the best night of her life, but then Daniel asked a soft 'You ain't thinking about leaving, right?'. She understood then that not only she didn't want to leave -and make a terrible walk of shame in an unfamiliar city- but most importantly, Daniel didn't want her to leave. That handsome, sweet, funny man that could have had her moaning his name minutes ago wanted her to stay. From all the girls in the bar he chose her and from all the girls in the world, he wanted her to stay. Even if it lasted one night Jas was more than happy with it, so with a shy little smirk she affirmed she wasn't going anywhere. She was staying as long as he wanted her to stay.  

That night she had the best night of her life not only for the sex, but also because he has no idea when was the last time she slept so well, especially with someone by her side. Daniel apologized in anticipation for snoring, dropping a silly 'The snores its the price to pay for a beautiful big neck to grab, babe’, but after the way he spent her, Jas didn't even realize he made a sound. Between the tiredness, the comfort of his bed and the warmth of their naked bodies tangled together, Jas fell asleep in no time, resting her head on his chest as they held each other.  

But that wasn't exactly how she woke up the next morning. Instead of being snuggled by his side like when she fell asleep, Jas woke up to Daniel sleeping on his chest, arms around her waist, right leg tugged over hers and while the left one was tangled between hers. They were an absolute mess of limbs, but it felt so right that she didn't want to move. Not that she could really move with a man practically laying over her, but she didn't want either.  

It took everything from her to not smile as Daniel moved slightly, tickling her nose with his curls. It took everything from her to not kiss his head. But it was even worse when she felt his stubble scratching her skin as he moved his head to kiss her chest.  

"I can tell you're awake" he murmured in the softest voice, sounding so sleepy that it made the butterflies in her stomach wake up too.  

"No I'm not" she whispered, smiling to herself as she hid her face even more in his curls and tightened her grip around his slim body, wishing she could really go back to sleep to make all that last a bit longer. She wasn't ready to leave that bed, but more importantly, she wasn't ready to leave his side.  

"So you talk in your sleep?"

"Mmmhm" she nodded, closing her eyes once again. But as soon as Daniel stirred again moving his head off her chest to rest it on the pillow, she hugged his body tightly, prevent him from moving away any further. "Stay there. If we move then the spell would break. I could turn into a pumping or a mouse"  

Jas thanked to all her lucky stars when, instead of going away from her, Daniel just got comfortable in the pillow, stuck by her side with their chests and noses touching, showing absolutely zero will to get up from bed or even move. "Just when I was gonna offer you coffee"

"Don't threat me with a good time" she smiled finally opening her eyes. And goddamn, how happy she was that she did it. Right in front of here there was the most beautiful pair of shiny brown eyes she had ever seen, looking straight at her through half opened eyelids. He had the most adorable sleepy face in the world, and his 'I just woke up' voice was one of the hottest things she had ever heard in her life. But ignoring how horny he was making her feel, Jas just wanted to stay there, touching every part of his perfect warm tanned skin. "Mning" she whispered, moving her right hand from around Daniel's body to stroke his cheek.  

And how she melted when he leaned his head against her hand, turning just a second to kiss her palm. But then he got closer, kissing her lips so softly that it felt like a dream. It felt like she was in a wild, crazy, beautiful dream from which she didn't want to wake up. "G'day, princess" Daniel murmured against her lips, stealing yet another kiss from her.  

"Did I tell you how much i like the Aussie accent?"  

"You told me last night" he smiled. Daniel was right because she mentioned it at the bar, but then again on the way back to his place, then again in the elevator and once again when they were whispering sweet nothings to each other while they were getting rid of their clothes. It turned her insane to hear it when he spoke against her neck or her ear, making Jas grab his curls even tighter or scratch his back even harder. But even more than anything, it blew her mind to listen to the accent appear while he was eating her out and whispering some compliments of how good she tasted or how beautiful she was. It was the sexiest thing in the whole universe and she it was too fast to think about anything like that, but Jas knew she could spend the rest of her life listening to him talking if she was given the chance. "I firmly believe that's what brought us here. That and my undeniable charm"  

"What a brought us here was a miracle" Jas giggled, kissing him back as her hand stroked his cheek and back.  

"You gotta tell me the whole story" Daniel insisted, pepping kisses from her lips to her cheek, then all the way to her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone, all to finish in her chest.  

The thing was that Jas told Daniel not even half of the story about how she ended up in Monaco with her friends. She told him she had an existential crisis that made her quit her job the day before and that it was her friends idea to run away from obligations for some days. Daniel didn't know about the tears at 6am while she was on the phone with her dad because she had no idea what to do. He didn't know about the talk between coffee cups with the girls at 7am asking what she should do because she couldn't handle work anymore. She didn't tell him how she had no idea what to do because the design studio she was working for years somehow decided to go from designing regular publicity to political publicity and how she hated every single second of it. She didn't tell him how she felt stupid for quitting for that reason. She didn't say a thing about it, not wanting to ruin the night with such a conversation. And since she didn't want to ruin it, she just brushed it off with a smile and a joke, but Daniel made her promise she was going to tell him later, just like he promised to tell her about his job.  

"And you gotta tell me what you do for a living. You're clearly not a mechanic cause look at your hands" she joked, grabbing his right hand that was on her ribs to kiss his knuckles, all while she scratched his head and played with his messy curls with her free hand.  

"Judging me so early into our relationship?"  

Jas was expecting many things, but somehow nothing prepared her for Daniel saying the word 'relationship' while he grabbed one of her breast and licked it with the tip of his tongue. It was nothing but pathetic how easily her body reacted to him, her nipples getting hard as soon as he touched her. But even more pathetic was the moan the left her lips as he sucked her nipple, all while looking up at her with those perfect big brown eyes of his.  

"Don't do that" she whispered, absolutely out of breath as a smile appeared on her face, even if she wanted to hide it.  

"Why not?"

If his tongue playing with her wasn't enough, Jas felt his hand move from her rib down to her leg to grab a handful of her ass and then give her a squeeze, making sure she got closer to him while doing it. "Cause you're making it really hard for me to go"  

"I can make it harder"  

"I think there's another thing getting harder" she smiled, feeling his hard on pressed against her tight, so close to her entrance that it felt almost insulting not moving and not pushing her hip so he would get inside her. "You're doing this to change the subject about your work?"

"No, I'm doing it so you say yes to have dinner with me tonight" he smiled, looking up at her with a sinful look, as he kept working on his task of making her absolutely wet and desperate for him, which was working nothing but wonderfully.  

"Y'know I'm on vacations with my friends, right? I shouldn't leave 'em alone to have dinner with a strange man"  

"I'll call 'em asking for permission then" he stated, moving from one of her breasts to another to give them equal attention. "And I'm not changing the subject. I tell you all during breakfast and then you tell me about that existencial crisis that took you here to me"

"But I'm making breakfast. Michael told me you can't cook shit and I don't wanna die over some toasts, no matter how handsome you are" she smiled, biting her lower lip as she tried to keep a moan from escaping her lips, all while she grabbed s handful of his curls and tugged carefully from his hair. She could see in his face the vindictive smirk as he grabbed her other nipple between his teeth, flicking his tongue over it, knowing perfectly fine that he had her wrapped around his fingers.  

Damn, she wasn't even mad about being wrapped in his hand. In fact, she loved it too much.  

"Wanna stay and make lunch for us too?"  

Jas somehow could see in the way his eyes were looking at her that Daniel wasn't joking about it. He meant it when he said he wanted her to stay and she should have said no, but it was too difficult to say no to those eyes. "Dan, I gotta go at some point" Jas insisted moving her own hip against his, trying desperately to get some extra friction as he worked wonders with her body.  

"I'll convince you to stay after this"  

And when Jas felt his fingers running around her tights to open her legs even more, she knew she was already convinced. Damn, she knew he was capable of convincing her of anything and she couldn't be happier about it.

---

Taglist

@d0ntjudgemy50shades @amsofftrack @a-distantdreamer

[kineticpenguin]

It ain't easy being a mech maintainer. There's absolutely zero respect for our profession. There's always some token chief engineer or some shit in the stories who somehow singlehandedly works miracles to keep you from questioning how this all works. But it ain't like that. And if I ever see a pilot turn a wrench I'll eat my fucking hat.

Listen, a mech's hands are delicate equipment. Yes, they're heavily armored, like every other fucking part of the goddamn things, but the laws of physics still apply. Which means that every time a pilot brags about how they can crush a tank turret in their fist or pick up an egg without cracking it, it means these things are full of sensors, and wiring, and actuators, and haptic feedback processors and it all has to communicate perfectly with a computer before the right signals are sent to the pilot's jackoff suit. Shit's delicate.

So these fuckers go out, heavily beweaponed with the best anti-armor weaponry known to man, missiles, guns, lasers, you name it.

And they fucking punch each other. With these intricately articulated, sensor-laden, networked hands. And they get mad when they don't work right afterward. I swear, someone oughtta let us just swap out those hands for bowling balls. Or better yet, instead of making us fix these things, we just settle disputes with a game of Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots because it's the same damn thing at this point.