#interdimensional space travel
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rosencatholic · 4 months ago
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Agony is when you read a really great fantasy series but it’s literally just you and 10 other people that know about it
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seafoam-taide · 2 months ago
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unrelated experimental drawing of my beloved Everything which then turned into me thinking abt what if i put xer in regretevator bc im experiencing attacks on my psyche
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thunder-pierogi · 1 year ago
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Story prompt: A species of alien beings that understand all the complexities of the universe and have mastered space and interdimensional travel because they can think in such an abstract way and comprehend higher dimensions that are inconceivable to humans - but are critically inefficient and disorganized in fuck all else because they lack the linear thinking and lower-dimensional reasoning that humans have.
Human: So this is your ship! Amazing! What a wonder of technology! I can’t wait to learn all about it!
Alien: Thank you, btw watch out for that corridor, we must stoop to go through it.
Human: Then…why did you design it that way…why didn’t you build it high enough for you to walk through?
Alien: Huh, didn’t think of that.
Human: *glances over* Hold on, why is the pantry on the bridge? And why are there socks in the pantry? WHY IS THERE MILK IN THE SOCKS?
Human: *opens electrical panel* Oh my fucking god. Someone get me a toolbox this shit is atrocious.
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du-hjarta-skulblaka · 1 year ago
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Extremely annoyed bc I couldn't fall asleep for like 2 hours last night bc I was vividly hallucinating an entire scene for my novel but I have neither the time nor the energy to write it down atm and I'm so worried I'm gonna forget
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i know that the extremely saturated amount of submas stuff over the last year or so since PLA came out has made some people disillusioned to them but like wasnt it kind of extremely fucked up that some fucking guy with (as far as we're aware) absolutely 0 significance to like the fabric of the universe or anything just got sent through time like 100-200 or so years in the past only barely holding on to the memories of his brother and his pokemon that he clearly cared about a great deal to be holding on to even a little bit of those memories through a forced time travel and memory loss
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call-me-cosmic · 2 years ago
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*downs his drink* “Now hurry up and get in the car before the cops show up.”
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joyfuladorable · 2 years ago
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My one big problem with Turtles Forever is the fact that Karai helps Ch’rell like what the fuck girl
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thepalecrawlers · 6 days ago
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Dimension hop at the mall
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theredumbrellatheory · 5 months ago
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according to my research and calculations;
stanford pines missed the challenger disaster
Guysss I swear to god I’m not dead I’m just being super gay
ANYWAYS
uhhh poll!
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darlingdaisyfarm · 4 months ago
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˚⋆。 thinking about Ford who. . .✧˚ (x fem!reader)
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minors don’t interact
Who can’t help himself.
His mind never really stops working, even when he’s inside you, moving so slow that has you writhing beneath him. His cock buried inside you, stretching you out inch by inch, but even now, his thoughts are somewhere between the galaxies and the stars. His cock pulses inside you, making you feel so good, but it’s not enough and yet he's still talking about the fabric of the universe. 
“You know. . . mmm, parallel dimensions have an infinite number of variables, but if you—" his breath hitches as he rolls his hips deeper, forcing your body to arch. “if you narrow them to specific constants you find— hahh, patterns.” little moan escapes your lips, needy, as his cock drags slowly against your walls.
His voice is calm, even steady despite the unhurried, delicious way he's fucking you, but you're barely listening. How could you? Every thrust has your mind blanking, leaving nothing but pleasure pooling low in your belly. Your nails digging into his back, you feel so abandoned each time he pulls out, only to have him slide back in with agonizing precision.
"Forddd. . .” you moan, head falling back into the pillow, begging for more, for faster. But his rhythm is controlled, measured, its like he’s savouring the way your cunt grips him, tight and so damn warm as he’s balls deep inside you.
“Dimensional travel. . . it’s not just theoretical, you see,” Ford’s voice is calm, as if he’s lecturing a class and not thrusting into your slick, dripping pussy, as if you’re not clenching around him so tight it’s driving you both insane. “If we can manipulate space-time— like this. . .” he punctuates his words with a deep thrust, his cock dragging against your soft walls in a way that makes your whole body shake. “we can alter outcomes. Mm, t-that means every choice you make branches into— fuck, you’re tight— into infinite possibilities.”
You can hardly breathe, can barely think because of the pressure building between your legs and he’s still talking. God, he’s still talking. You hear him, even if barely, something about gravitational fields and parallel worlds, but it’s all turning into a blur with your eyes rolling in the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot inside again and again.
“You like it when I explain things to you,” Ford claims. “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”
You can’t even find the words to respond, because yes, you love it and fuck, you hate that you love it. All you can do is mewl and whimper, your hips rolling against him in a futile attempt to make him pick up the pace. He knows, god, he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
“Ford, please—!” his cock slides deeper, but that serious, calm tone, fuck, it’s driving you wild. You want him to stop talking, to focus, to pound into you like you need, but his voice just keeps spilling from his lips like honey. Your head rolls back, lips parting in pathetic little gasps and moans, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You can’t take it anymore, he’s teasing you, playing with you, dragging it out just to see how far he can push you before you break. “please, faster!” you plead, desperate for more, desperate for him to stop talking and just fuck you properly, hard and fast. But he’s still so calm, still so fucking unflappable. 
“Oh? you’re getting impatient?” Ford’s hand slides down your trembling thigh, lifting it higher, opening you up even more to him. “You wanted to learn about interdimensional physics, didn’t you?” he mumbles under his breath as he grinds into you, his cock plunging deeper, completely filling you and it feels like a dream for both of you. “I’m just giving you what you wanted.”
His fingers find your needy clit, rubbing in torturous circles as he continues that slow rhythm inside you. He’s barely breaking a sweat, his brow furrowed in concentration as if this is just another experiment to him meanwhile you’re such a mess under him. His cock twitches inside you as he changes angle again, deeper now and he takes a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop talking. 
He doesn’t stop and you hate him.
Ford’s eyes roam over your trembling body, reveling in the sight of you, desperate and needy. Your eyes watery and mouth open in a breathless moan.
“The fascinating thing about dimensional shifts— god, you feel so good,” he trails off for a moment, and you think, finally, he’s losing focus. You roll your hips against his, hoping to break his composure. But instead of faltering, he chuckles, leaning down only to plant a small kiss on your lips. “you’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”
“Fuck, p-pleasee!” you whine, spreading your legs wider, trying to press up against him, but he pins you down.
“Clever girl,” he mutters, voice rougher now, losing some of that composed edge as he looks at you, the desperate need written all over your cute face. “letting me teach you like this.”
He pulls out, almost completely, leaving you aching, empty, before slamming back into you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. "That’s my girl." his words make you cry out his name over and over again, your nails digging into his back as he starts to fuck you better, properly, his pace quicker, rougher now, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.
He’s no longer focused on explaining the mysteries of the universe, he’s focused on you, on how your body responds to him, on how good it feels to have you wrapped around him, hot and wet and perfect, on how your wetness and slick coating his length. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mixing with your desperate, needy moans and his groans when he finally fucks you the way you wanted, he ruts into you faster, harder, and it’s everything you needed, everything you craved. 
“Ford— oh fuck,” you cry out, head thrown back and he’s there, finally losing himself in the way your cunt clenching around him, making such wet squelching sounds, he’s lost in the way you’re moaning his name, voice so beautiful. You’re nearly drooling as you give him a silly smile, begging him to finish inside you.
“Cum for me,” he growls, his hand sliding down, thumb finding your clit and pressing down in fast circles what makes your head spin. “I want to feel you— cum for me, now.” you arch your back as the orgasm crashes through you, you walls flutter around him, the sensations are so intense you can’t even scream, only shake and try to cross your legs because pleasure is fucking overwhelming, though Ford never stops thrusting into your wetness. You’re trembling, mind blank as you cling onto him, holding him, feeling him.
Ford groans at the beautiful sight, his clever girl looks so pretty when she’s dumb fucked and cock drunk. However Ford is lost in pleasure too, your pussy feels so warm, so tight and good he just can’t stop fucking you. But he’s damn close. He grits his teeth, taking a deep breath, thrusting into you so hard, burying himself so fucking deep, his cock twitching as he spills into you, filling you up with every last drop. Finally, finally. He’s breathing heavily into your lips, glasses fogged, his chest heaving. You just lay there, taking it like a good girl you are.
Ford can’t stop looking at you, he kisses your forehead, softly and gentle. “Now. . . where were we? Ah, yes. Dimensional theory.”
You can’t help but laugh, head still spinning as he pulls you close, already starting to ramble again about parallel worlds and universal constants, like he wasn’t just inside you, fucking you senseless.
And honestly you wouldn’t have him any other way.
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foone · 3 months ago
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So Robert A. Heinlein was an author who, much like Star Trek, was praised early on for their progressiveness. Much like Star Trek, he then went on making stuff and didn't change many attitudes but society changed around him and suddenly his stuff was a lot less progressive.
But bless him he tried, and it's hilarious how weirdly it went at times.
So how about the time he decided one of his old characters was trans, and how he went about that?
(readmore just because this is a little long)
So Methuselah's Children was a serial in 1941 and a book in 1958. In it, a group of super-long-lived humans (thanks to eugenics!) decide to end their masquerade and reveal themselves to humanity at large. It goes badly, and they have to flee the planet, and have various adventures before eventually returning to a changed earth that no longer hates them for their immortality.
There's no trans characters in this story, as written in 1941 or 1958. But there is Andrew Jackson Libby: a mathematical genius who invents a Warp Drive to help the immortals flee the planet.
And in 1980, Heinlein writes The Number of the Beast. It's a deeply weird and contested novel involving a conspiracy to murder advanced mathematicians by interdimensional lobsters, and they manage to visit both Oz and Wonderland (as in "Alice In"). But Libby reappears! And she's a woman now!
It's explained that she always wanted this but couldn't get it for the usual reasons (debatable: her timeline in Methuselah's Children had flying cars and space ships, but no HRT?) but what's really amazing is how the author explains how she ended up a man:
It involves her death, intersex genetics, cloning, time travel, and psychics.
See sometime after Methuselah's Children, she (still presenting male) gets killed by an alien polar bear, and her body is left in orbit of some alien world so that a friend can come retrieve it later when it can be buried on Earth. When the friend returns, the body is gone. Someone stole the corpse of some dead egg. Weird.
Later it turns out the friend stole the corpse: he just used time travel to do it. Shortly after it was left in orbit, he came back in time, grabbed it, and returned to the future.
They're planning to use advanced Future Tech to revive her: they clone the body, then pull memories out of the frozen-by-space brain and stuff them into the clone. But then the cloners realize something: it turns out Libby has XXY chromosomes! In reality this is called Klinefelter syndrome.
But in the story they seem to think this means Libby could be either male or female, so these advanced Future Scientists What With The Cloning And Time Travel And Such do the sensible thing: they call in a psychic.
The psychic somehow does something to Libby's brain where they push her to imagine herself as a man, then as a woman, and try to figure out which one makes her happier. Obviously, it turns out to be the woman version, so they modify the clone's genetics so that they only have the XX part, and thus are born (well, grown) female.
They then stick the brainwaves of this dead (supposed) man into the empty brain of a female clone and she's like "oh neat I'm alive again, and a woman? Cool!"
And the story just carries on and none of this is ever mentioned again. This is apparently how Heinlein thinks trans people work, and we needed a little side story to explain why the fuck one of his characters from the 40s came back in the 80s but she's a woman now.
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writing-prompt-s · 2 years ago
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You've just created a handheld device that lets you slip into the interdimensional space between space and time. While there, you don't age and, don't experience time dilation and can travel long distances instantly. So, since you're a very smart an imaginative person, you use it to sleep.
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moonchildstyles · 1 year ago
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sin
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y/n is an angel and harry is a demon whos taught her how much fun it can be to sin
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The first time (Y/N) floated down from the clouds, she had no idea what a Pocket was, let alone where to find one. That time felt so long ago with the way she could now navigate herself to her favorite Pocket without a second thought. The route had become one of familiarity, guiding butterflies flitting through her stomach the closer she made it with every step. 
Slipping out of sight of the main street, she counted thirteen paces down the quiet alleyway before finding the brick that needed just the right touch before it would show off the hidden doorway she needed. The brick was grainy and rough under her palm, her skin catching on the mortar as she pushed against it until it finally gave away underneath. Just like that, the seemingly solid wall opened up, revealing an entryway for her eyes only. 
(Y/N) felt giddy as she stepped inside, the doorway vanishing behind her when she crossed the threshold. She knew it was secure once more when there was a breeze that skated over her skin and fluffed through her wings, seemingly sealing her away from the rest of the world. In a way, it was, but there was still a waiting invitation to the one other person who knew about this Pocket—the one that had shown her the way in the first place.
Getting comfortable while she waited, (Y/N) was happy to see the place was untouched from her last visit. When she had first seen this Pocket, it was the closest thing she had ever seen to an interdimensional "bachelor pad". There hadn't been much of anything to see that first time, only the bones of someone’s presence though they were too busy to return much. She remembered it had felt stale as if it had been abandoned for years despite the unmade bed in the corner with messy sheets and tufted comforter. 
Harry had told her it was a place he barely used—it was one of the first Pockets he conjured on his own, and he'd since honed the craft into bringing something more extravagant to life. He still visited just to keep the curse fresh, but he otherwise only stayed there if it was necessary and no other options were available. 
His last resort had since become their hideaway. Special for just the two of them; another secret for them to share with one another. 
It had come a long way from when she had first visited with Harry on her tail, leaving behind the less than ideal bed set up, and vacant walls. (Y/N) had used all of her inspiration from seeing countless humans decorate their homes, turning the dreary Pocket into a cozy getaway. Heaven didn't necessarily allow for a lot of individualism when it came to living spaces, seeing as how everything was ordained to be pristine and creamy. Here, (Y/N) got to use as much color as she wanted—as long as it didn't spur any headaches for Harry, anyway. 
Now, there was an actual bed frame holding up a cushy mattress, the pillows feather soft and always cool to the touch. The bedding was a warm orangey color, playing off of the greens and pinks throughout the space. There were pictures—canvases full of paint Harry said he "found" through his travels—pinned to the walls, playing into the bright hues (Y/N) was toying with. A rug now sat in the middle of the room in the shape of a paint blob in a creamy green shade that made her think of Harry's eyes. The kitchen—though near unnecessary given their statuses—was given the same treatment as the rest of the studio-sized space. There were magnets covering the unused fridge, appliances and bowls of always fresh fruit sitting on the counter. A bouquet of flowers that never died were sitting on the bedside table, perfuming the air with a light fragrance that drew her in. Her favorite part was the mirror by the bed, ornate and carved with cherubs. 
Walking in felt like a breath of fresh air. As much as she loved being an angel—guiding humans in need, taking care of those who needed her touch, changing lives for the better—being here in this Pocket was the one thing she could see herself loving more.
It would be a little bit better if she wasn't alone, though. 
Sitting on the edge of the bed, fluffy wings tucked against her back, she fixed her eyes on the doorless portal, waiting for the telltale creek and scrape of concrete that would signal Harry's arrival. This was the bad part of being chronically early, she thought, never being sure when the other would show up and keep her from being lonely. 
Lucky for her, it was only another handful of minutes before her ears picked up on the familiar sound of footsteps trailing over the pavement. Her breath caught when they stopped just outside where the Pocket's door was, a smile unfurling on her features when that first creek sounded through the room. She rose to her feet just in time to see the first uniform crack in the wall before the rest of the doorway came to be. 
Slipping inside, Harry didn't wait for the portal to shut behind him before he was crossing the room to meet her. 
"(Y/N)," he sighed, his grin toothy and completely with dimples, "Sorry I took so long." 
Wrapping his arms around her, (Y/N) melted into his embrace. His hands settled just below her fluffy wings, holding her close while she rested her cheek on his chest. 
"It's okay," she murmured, eyes fluttering to a close as she soaked in his warmth, "I'm happy you're here." 
Harry's response came in the form of a small kiss being dropped on the top of her head, the contact decidedly delicate as opposed to his nature. He'd told her before that she was the only one that could draw that side of him out—the docile side that had no alignment with chaos or sabotage. This side of him was just for her, he'd shared. 
Shifting his hands on her, his fingertips brushing her wings with a shudder shooting down (Y/N)'s spine, Harry repositioned until he had his hands cradling her cheeks as he tipped her head up to face him. His dark eyes shimmered green, taking in each of her features as if it were the first time again. 
"I've missed you," he crooned, "So much, darling. What have you been up to since the last time I saw you?" 
Despite there being no way for anyone, mortal or otherwise to overhear them, every word he spoke to her was uttered like a secret. Just for her. 
"I missed you," she smiled, unlooping her own arms to settle with her hands on his chest, "But, I've been okay. Just doing angel stuff." 
His lips quirked into a lopsided curve, his thumb brushing along the height of her cheekbone. "Always angel stuff with you. No breaks." 
"No breaks," she played along as if she wasn't currently in the middle of a break with him right now, where not even her creator could spot her if she tried, "What about you?" 
"Just the opposite of angel stuff," he teased, managing to bring a smile to her face despite knowing the reality of his joke. He had a certain way of putting it, describing his job, that made it not sound so bad when it came to (Y/N)'s sensibilities. (Truthfully, it could be because she just liked his voice. He could make anything sound heavenly). 
"Fun?" she smiled, letting him walk her back towards the bed. 
"Always," he hummed, escorting her backwards until her legs hit the edge. 
Tumbling back, a bubbling laugh left (Y/N)'s lips as she clung to Harry. He fell atop her, her thighs splitting to settle him between. Underneath, the mattress conformed to the shape of her wings, Harry's hands pressing into the planes of her back as if she wasn't close enough as is. 
Before the world had a chance to settle around her, Harry tipped his chin and pressed his lips to hers. Though she didn't have much to compare it to, (Y/N) had little doubt that there could ever be a better kisser out there than Harry. Her point was proven every time he sealed his mouth to hers, her top lip cradled between his two. 
This was never going to get old, she knew. Not with the bubbling that ignited under her skin at the contact, the way there was nothing more she wanted than to cling to him and bask in his warmth. With every angling and tipping of their heads, movements made in tandem, she was drawn deeper and deeper in everything that was him. Tucked underneath him like this, mouth coming together and parting with soft breaths between, it was hard to think that the universe had crafted them to be enemies. 
Tracing his mouth down from hers, dotting a line over her jaw, Harry murmured in her ear, "I don't have much time, darling." 
"No?" she asked, a pout evident in just the single syllable, "Why not?" 
Harry drew back only to give her an apologetic smile. "Opposite of angel stuff, remember?" 
"Since when does that have a schedule?" She sounded petulant even to her own ears, but if there was one sin she was willing to commit, it was greed when it came to Harry. 
"Since I told Sarah I would meet up with her soon," Harry offered the challenge with a raised brow. Sarah wasn't like the others of his kind, she was more stubborn and would actually go looking for him if he stood her up, if only to wreak havoc for him personally as revenge. 
"To do not-angel stuff that I'll have to clean up later?" she pressed, feeling her attitude leak away now that she knew her time was limited with him. 
His smile was brilliant at her words, wide with bracketing dimples. "Of course. That's why we work so well, darling." 
It was that kind of language, the sweet one that made even demon activities sound silly, that had her splitting into a smile before tipping her chin in hopes of coaxing him into a kiss. It didn't take much convincing for Harry's lips to press into hers, resuming the lingering kissing he'd interrupted before. 
On her back, Harry shifted his hands until he grazed the stem of her wings. The second his fingertips glanced against the base of one fluffy, tightly packed feather, a shudder wormed down her spine. Her breathing stuttered in her chest, a furrow pinching at her brow. From the way he had to keep from smiling against her mouth, she knew he was aware of the effect of his touch—undoubtedly intentional. 
It was the easiest way to get her riled up, and that was exactly what he needed for their time limit. 
Just as he'd surely hoped, there was a change in the pacing of their kissing. (Y/N) leaned into his touch, anticipating another lingering touch against her wings. Her hands slid over his chest, fingers denting the blocky muscles that made up his body, landing on the shelf of his shoulders. Her fingertips hooked into the solid muscle, clinging to him. 
Her heartbeat stutters behind her ribs when she felt his hands shifting on her back. This time, he dared to run his fingers through the feathers, the structure underneath down was grazed by his warm touch. An involuntary moan slipped from her mouth and into his.
Instead of something smug crossing his features, Harry only kissed her harder. His mouth was hot, taking in her sudden pants from his touch. 
"Harry?" she murmured, breathless against his mouth. He didn't bother drawing away from her as he hummed, the pillows of his lips dragging over hers. "Do we have enough time?" 
This finally had his lips quirking. He nodded his head gently, the tip of his nose grazing her own. "I'll make time."
When she felt his hands drift away from her wings, she wanted to complain. She wanted to whine enough for him to know she didn't like that he was moving on, but that need was quieted when she felt his palm settle on the plush of her thigh. His touch was heavy and warm, denting into the soft skin while the other hooked around her waist in a cradle. 
In one fluid motion, he had her on her back with her mouth dropped open in a gasp. Instinctively, she had tightened her grip on him, her legs wrapping around his waist during the roll. By the time Harry was underneath her, her surprise had morphed into laughter, her chest pressed to his as she slumped into him. 
"You scared me," she bubbled, shifting in his lap with her knees bracketing his hips. 
"Sorry, darling," he murmured with a soft smile, the pitch of his pupils blown wide as he took her in. 
Steadying her, he settled his hand on her hips as she planted her hands on his chest to prop herself up above him. She could feel her wings fluff out behind her, no longer confined against the mattress. Harry's eyes followed the span of her feathers, the stretch reaching just slightly wider than her shoulders. He'd told her more than once how cute he thought her wings were—he'd never seen any quite as fluffy as hers, especially compared to his own. 
He looked up at her with reverence in his gaze, something adoring and smothering dancing in his irises as he watched her from below. She felt warm under his eyes, her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt to keep herself from preening like a dove under his attention.
His adoring gaze translated into his soft hands trailing over the curve of her form, his palms warming the ladder of his ribs with his thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts. Even through her dress, his touch elicited a round of gooseflesh to prickle her skin. Her breath lagged in her lungs. 
Though time hadn't ever felt like much for (Y/N), seeing as she was immortal, Harry had made her impatient. It'd been a handful of days since the last time they had snuck off to their Pocket, but those days had felt like years to her body without his touch. 
The trail of his gaze almost felt tangible, warm and heavy, the longer he watched her. 
"What?" she asked, feeling breathless when he ran his thumbs against the swells of her chest. 
He didn't bother to pull his eyes from where they lingered on her body, especially liking the way her thighs were split around his hips under the hem of her dress. "Nothing," he mumbled, shaking his head against the pillows cushioned underneath, "Jus' haven't had y'on top in a while. I like it." 
She had thought before that greed was the only sin he could inspire in her, but lust was quickly overtaking the top spot. He was right; she didn't usually get a chance to look at him like this. While she loved lying underneath him, at his mercy while he drove himself home between her legs, there was something to be said about the perspective she gained while sitting astride his lap like this. 
His hair laid in soft waves against the linen of this pillows, curling towards his face as if a frame for a portrait. His lashes were long and dark, framing his eyes and drawing his prey in at a glance. There was a spray of freckles glancing off the bridge of his nose, faint against the cream of his skin. Though his eyes were dark, there were shatters of green that could be seen if one were close enough to spot the hues. His body was made of strong lines and angles, his jaw, much of the same despite the soft skin of his lips and the gentle way he admired her. 
He was the perfect demon—the perfect temptation. If not for the fact she knew what was hidden away, she would have argued he was an angel like her. 
"I like it, too," she told him, breathless, "I like it when you look at me like that." 
"Yeah?" he prodded, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth when he finally matched her gaze. His hands on her sides drifted down until he met the hem of her dress, taking the delicate material between his fingers. "Can I see more of you then, darling? Promise I'll keep looking at you like this."
Biting back her smile, she drew her hands away from his chest to grab for the hem of her dress. Moving his own hands back, he watched as she pulled her dress over her head, wings tucked against her back with the material drifting over her feathers. The familiar butterflies that came with revealing her body in a way she had never anticipated she would in her angel life flittered through her stomach. Their fluorescent wings flew high enough to glance over the chambers of her heart, feeling just as real as the warmth of his eyes draping over her newly exposed skin. Between Harry's legs, she felt a ridge thicken, pressing into her core with every drawing breath she pulled into her lungs. 
Throwing her dress to the floor, her form was left with only a dainty pair of underwear sitting on her hips and a matching bra barely covering her breasts. 
Harry's dark eyes seemingly left behind the slight hue of green, instead revealing only pitch black irises that blended seamlessly into his pupils. If any more of his control slipped, the whole of his eyes would match the inky darkness—a sight (Y/N) used to fear that now had her blood pumping. 
He couldn't help himself before he had his hands on her once more. His touch was adoring, lingering and warm. 
"Y'planned for this didn't you?" he mused, raising a brow when he met her eyes. 
"What do you mean?" she asked, canting her head with her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
"You know," he drawled, his hips shifting underneath her own with a cursory roll, "I thought y'were an angel, and here y'are dressing in lingerie to seduce a demon. How'd y'even get into heaven, hm?" 
The way he spoke to her was thrilling in a way that could rival his touch; he made her feel dirty, questioning how someone like the girl in his lap could have snuck into heaven, while touching and looking at her with reverence she could only keen under. 
"I thought you liked it when I did this," she countered, her lips tugging into a faux-frown. 
"Oh, I do, darling. Can't you tell?" 
With that, the slow roll he'd given with his hips morphed into a strong buck against her hips. The ridge she'd felt before was now a bulge, heavy and pushing. Her wings fluttered recalling the last time he had stuffed himself inside her, her legs thrown over his shoulders and tears in her eyes. 
The memory had her shifting her hips against his, rolling her core over the bulge she felt in his lap. Harry's breath hitched just as a petite moan hummed from her chest. His hands on her waist tightened, fingertips denting the soft flesh. 
"Do that again for me, darling," Harry murmured, his voice a low rumble as if it were a secret only to be shared with her, "Put on a pretty show for me." 
Planting her hands on his abdomen, feeling the blocks of muscle underneath his shirt, she steadied herself on him as she began rolling her hips against his once more. The rough texture of his jeans could be felt through her thin panties, both his thickening cock and the seaming of his pants pressing into her clit. Her knees planted on either side of his hips were digging into the mattress, spreading that much wider the more she rocked against him to sink herself onto him that much more. Her wings fluttered behind her, her feathers fanning in a short fluff at her back. 
Under her hands, Harry's stomach was tense, muscles densely bunched together. She glanced up at him to find him watching her with hooded eyes, his gaze feeling just as heavy and tangible as his hands on her waist. The sight had her grinding her hips that much harder against his cock, a shiver thrilling up her spine until a breathless moan fell from her lips. 
"I could watch you all day, darling," Harry mused, his voice rumbling under her hands as much as it reached her ears, "But, we don't have that kind of time, do we?" 
"No," she answered automatically, a whine to her voice as she shook her head. She didn't really feel like thinking about how quickly their time would be cut short. 
His hands on her waist slid down until he reached her hips, his grip solidifying until he had her stopped in her tracks. Her fingers curled in the material of his shirt, her bottom lip sinking under the weight of her teeth. 
"Get me out, darling."
Maybe it was the deep rumble of his voice, or the steadfast contact of his eyes with hers, but (Y/N) could have melted in that moment. Her lungs squeezed with her heart rattling behind her ribs. It was only when a smug smile tugged at the corner of his mouth that she realized she had lingered too long admiring him. 
Unfurling her hands from his top, she fumbled at the waist of his pants. Every shifting of her hips against his lap had her in a daze, making it that much harder to concentrate on following his instructions—something he was well aware of with the way he had his own pelvis rocking upwards as if he didn't know what he was doing. 
Pulling down his jeans enough to expose his black briefs, (Y/N) could have breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to hook her fingers in the waist of his underwear. A spray of goosebumps touched at his skin, his cock visibly jumping when she reached for his cock. 
His skin was heated, shaft thick with his head leaking by the time she had her fist wrapped around him. Shoving his briefs down enough to pull him out, (Y/N) had her attention stolen and pinned to his cock. The head was leaking and red, a pearl of precum glossing from his slit. She instinctively wrapped her hadn't around his shaft, feeling the ridge of his head under her palm and the pumping of the vining vein wrapped around. A heavy breath shuddered through his chest at the touch. (Y/N) couldn't keep her eyes off of him, lusty adrenaline sparking through her system at the thought that he was in this state because of her. 
"You're so cute, darling," Harry said, breathless as he drew her out of her head. 
"Huh?" she murmured, tearing her eyes away from his ruddy cock and the shallow pumps she made around his shaft. 
If he'd had an answer at the ready, he'd cut himself off as he sank into the mattress with a sigh. The pristine pillow compressed under his head when he threw it back in the preludes of ecstasy. 
"Jus' you," he murmured, recovering with his eyes only opening to a slit, "'S always like the first time with, isn't it? Y'always look at me like you've never seen me before—'s cute."
She felt shy all of a sudden, as if she didn't have his cock in her hand. Her wings tucked to her shoulder blades, cocooning her together as if they could shrink and hide her. 
"I like you," she told him, "That's all." 
"Yeah?" he pressed smugly, his cheeks beginning to flush as (Y/N) just laid her hand on him without offering the relief of her fist, "Jus' like me?" 
A bashful tug had her lips curling into a small smile. "I love you." 
"That's what I thought." 
With that, one of his hands on her waist abandoned post only to land on the back of her neck. His palm was a cuff around the warm skin as he curled upwards and tugged her down in the same sweep. His lips met hers in a warm press, his tongue snaking out with the tip dragging along the full of her bottom lip. She didn't have to think before she was opening up for him, running her own tongue across his to get a taste. 
It was (Y/N)'s turn then to get a taste of his pleasure, a moan spilling from his throat and settling on her tongue. Her hand around his cock tightened, the grip snug and clinging. The longer he played with her, his hand tight on the back of her neck as if in fear she would pull away before he was ready, the seat of her panties grew that much more wet. Her toes curled in the bedding at his sides, her free hand pawing at his chest in the lone need to feel him. 
Drawing away just enough to speak, (Y/N)'s lips brushed against his own as she whispered, "I-I want to see you, Harry." 
"'M here, darling," he answered her simply before attempting to dive back in for more. 
"No," she practically pouted, puckering her lips for one more kiss before pleading again, "No, I want more—it's not fair if I'm the only one without my clothes on" 
She could feel him smile into her mouth, his hand offering an affectionate squeeze to the back of her neck before he pulled away. 
"When have I ever been fair, darling?" he prodded, giving her a raised brow as if he wasn't going to give into each and every single one of her demands. 
"You are with me," she countered with a cant to her head.
Something softened in his expression then, as if she didn't have her hand wrapped around his cock. "I suppose I am, aren't I?" 
Peeling his shirt off, the material becoming a black puddle on the bed behind her to reveal the tan skin and inked marks covering his musculature. 
(Y/N) had heard time and time again throughout her existence how demons could never be trusted, that they were a creation that an angel like her shouldn't taint themselves by even breathing next to. She had been told they were slimy skinned, rows of teeth stuffed in their mouths, with eyes that could pull you straight to hell if you looked into them long enough. 
Looking at Harry the way he was now beneath her, she could see why her ancestors would craft such tales; if she had known there were creatures out there that looked the way Harry did, she would have tried to find him the first time she floated from the clouds. 
She couldn't help the way her hands drifted up his chest. Her fingers skimmed over his chest, dancing over the butterfly inked on his stomach and he birds up high by his collarbones. There was a flight layer of goosebumps that rose in her wake. 
A breathy laugh that fell from his lips brought her attention back to the surface, pulling her gaze to flick up and match his. Amusement floated in his irises, a slight smile on his raspberry lips. 
"You're cute," he told her simply. 
"I'm not trying to be cute," she answered, a stubborn set to her jaw. 
That only seemed to amuse him more, a dimple now denting his cheek as his smile grew. "Right," he drawled, "As much as I love letting y'touch all over me, I don't think we have enough time left for y'to have too much fun." 
The reminder was enough to have her mouth fixing into a pout. That wasn't what she wanted to hear.
"Oh, yeah," she answered sullenly, stilling her hands on his shoulders with her body leant over his. 
"I know," he said, craning his neck to press a small kiss to the corner of her mouth in a lingerie draw, "Next time we're here, we'll spend all night together. I promise."
A dreamy sigh fanned from her lungs at the thought, her eyes falling closed. It'd been a while since they had been able to spend a whole night in the Pocket together—the last time had left her in love and flying wonky the next day. 
She could hear the smile in his voice when he pressed, "Sound good, darling?" 
"Mhm," she hummed, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, "I want that now." 
"I know y'do," he murmured, "You'll jus' have to settle for me fucking y'fast, then." 
He said it like it was a punishment, as if her heart wasn't in her throat with adrenaline when he flipped her over once more. She was flat on her back, wings cushioned against the mattress when he sunk in between her spread thighs once more. Now, she could feel the weight of the muscles she had grazed her hands over, the width of his form she had been grinding against. 
The movement had stolen her breath, leaving her chest heaving as he looked down at her. The intensity was back once more, keeping his irises dark as he glazed his eyes over each and every line of her body. He lingered on the line of her bra, surely pinpointing where her rattling heart was scheduled by her ribs. 
"What do y'need from me, darling?" Harry mumbled, the blunt of his nails grazing the soft skin of her stomach as he dragged his hands towards the waist of her panties. 
Speaking through her shudder, she shook her head, "No-Nothing—I want you." 
Harry looked entirely too smug, the curl on his lips one she recognized even as far back as the first time they met. Back then, she couldn't stand the sight—unsure of how a demon could be proud of anything they did. Now, it was one of her favorite things, knowing she had made him feel proud of himself (at least she liked to think of it that way). 
"Y'can have me, darling," he assured her, one of his hands dripping from the waist of her underwear and down between her legs, "But, are y'wet enough for me, or do y'need some help?" 
His thumb grazed her clit, her body jumping at the slight touch. She could feel her insides pulsing, grasping for something that wasn't there yet. 
"I-I don't need help," she stuttered, pushing her hips against his hand in impatience, "Harry, please. I don't want you to leave before we're done." 
A pinch appeared between his brows then as he hooked his fingers into the gusset of her underwear, pulling the material to the side. "I would never leave y'like that, you know that. I'll always take care of m'angel."
As if to prove his point, she watched as he fisted his cock and ran the head along her folds. The air had been seemingly sucked out of the room at that moment, leaving her with a shuddering breath leaving her lungs and eyes fighting to close. She could feel his heavy gaze watching her as he nudged his cock against her pulsing opening, a small tease before he pulled back to slide through her folds once more. 
"Y'sure you're ready for me?" he teased, drawing out his words for just a second longer of the torture. 
"Harry, please," she told him, sounding a bit pathetic to her own ears though there was no guilt in the act. "I need you." 
He loved it when she pleaded with him like that. On longer nights, he would have pressed for more, taken any and every bit of begging she could offer, but she was sure the time limit was in the back of his mind when he didn't continue teasing. 
With a fluid push of his hips, he sunk in between her hips. (Y/N)'s lips fell open at the stretch, a moan getting stuck in her throat to leave nothing more than a heavy puff of air falling from her mouth. Harry's gaze was concentrated on where they were connected, his length disappearing inside her. His hand stretching back her panties let go when he bottomed out, his base pressing into her budding clit. 
His chest was heaving when he finally looked up at her once more. She could see the boundary of his irises beginning to waver, the black bleeding into the sclera. He was losing control in the most thrilling sense, the idea causing her walls to pulse around his splitting length. 
"'S been too long, darling," he told her, voice a low rumble. 
"Uh-huh," she sounded, giving a pathetic nod of her head with her hands fisting the bedding at her sides. She wanted so badly to reach for him, feel his skin under her palms, but feared flying away if she let go before she had her head on straight. 
"Never gonna wait this long again, 'kay?" Rearing back his hips, he grunted when he pushed through her channel once more. 
A puff of air left (Y/N)'s lungs once his hips pressed against hers in a slap, as if he had knocked it right out of her. Settling his hands on the bones of her hips, his thumbs stretched up towards the curve of her waist in a gentle sweeping that opposed the strength of his grip. He held her steady as he curated a fluid pace, knocking the breath out of her each time he sank inside her. 
(Y/N)'s breathing came in puffs every time she felt his tip nudge deep inside her, her body being pushed further and further into the mattress. Without his hands on her body keeping her place, she would have hit her head on the headboard by now, she figured, the thought being one that would have made her laugh if not for the fact that she was in the middle of something. 
"You're so tight," he gritted out, his voice deep and rumbling through his chest, "Thought y'said y'were ready for me." 
"I am, I am," she rushed out, pausing when he gave her a particularly punishing thrust, "I-Its been too long, re-rememeber?" 
His hands squeezed her hips that much more at her words. "I know, darling. Gonna have to make this one last then. Can't stretch y'out every time we fuck, can we?" 
Mindlessly, she shook her head, willing to agree with any and everything he was saying at the moment. She wouldn't mind him taking the time to stretch her out every time he pulled her to bed, but now wasn't the time to get greedy—she already had his cock rearranging her organs, there wasn't much more she could pine for, was there?
Except for maybe touching him herself. 
Not wanting to distract him from his job, (Y/N) unfurled her fingers from the sheets at her sides, reaching towards the thick of his arms. Her fingernails sunk into the skin, leaving small moon shapes that would no doubt still be pink by the time he was having to slip out and meet his friend. She liked the idea, her fingers clenching that much more, that a part of her would remain with him even when they couldn't be together. 
Harry was seemingly spurred on by the touch, hips knocking into hers in heady strokes. She was going to have bruises tomorrow, but she didn't care. Her mouth dropped open, small uh's leaving her parted lips in time with every push of his hips. 
"Harry, I-I," she started, her voice catching in her throat before she could say much more. 
"'M right here, darling, 's alright," he attempted to soothe her though his voice was strained and breathy with every thrust he sunk inside her. 
Her mouth was dry by the time she found her voice again, her eyes fluttering to a close. "I—Can—I want to touch—" 
That was all she managed to get out before a bubbling moan fell from her lips when he dared to grind against her once bottoming out. Through her taut underwear, he pressed against her clit, her body jumping at the touch.
"But you are touching me," he drawled, bringing her back down as he pulled his hips back. 
She knew he was only trying to goad her, get her stubborn and petulant in the way that always made him laugh, but she didn't care. It was going to work, but she would leave her scolding for later. 
"You know what I mean, Harry" she argued, peeling her eyes open to find him looking at her with that smug smile as if he wasn't exerting all of his energy into stealing her breath away. "You're being so mean to me!" 
"I'm being mean to you?" he repeated, the rhythm of his hips slowing just a hair when he brought the intensity of his gaze to match hers. "You really think that right now, darling?" 
"Yes, I do," she whined, now upset by the fact he was slowing down and not letting her touch him. She wrapped her legs around his hips from where he was knelt between her thighs in hopes of spurring him on, feeling the ridge of his length pressing through. 
One of his hands on her hips slid up her body, skating over her tummy and between her breasts until he landed on her neck. His palm laid flat on her collarbones with his fingers wrapping around her throat, a slight pressure. His hips worked in shallow thrusts, barely pulling his length out before he was pushing in once more. 
"Are you sure?" he pressed, a slight pressure closing in on the side of her throat as he squeezed that much more, "If this isn't enough for you, I can show y'how mean I can really be." 
(Y/N) felt her eyes round out as she gazed up at him, her heart stuttering in her chest. Time seemingly stood still in that moment, every detail melting away to leave only Harry in focus. 
"Oh my god," she murmured, her voice squeaking through her throat.
A slow smile tugged up the corner of Harry's lips. "No god, darling. Jus' me." 
(Y/N) couldn't help but to buck her hips against his, urging him for more. She could feel her walls fluttering around him, her wings at her back struggling against the mattress with their own restless energy begging to fluff out. 
Harry kept his hand as an anchoring weight on her throat as he dropped back into the rhythm of his hips, tightening in pulsing squeezes just long enough to have her eyes rolling to the back of her head before lightening up once more. His own control—despite the facade he was offering to (Y/N)—began to waver that much more. His eyes were almost completely black, the inky veins snaking out to envelope the sclera with every punishing thrust. The moment (Y/N) was back on Earth, peeling her eyes open enough, she swore she saw glimpses of his glamor fading, revealing the large black wings shrouding his back. 
He was close, that much she was sure of. 
"A-are you going to cum?" she asked, voice rumbling under his hand.
Shaking his head, he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. "Not until you, darling. Angels first." 
"But, I can see your wings." 
His breathing came in pants. "I know, but you're still finishing first, darling." 
Taking his hand off her neck, the ghost of his warmth left behind, Harry wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her off the bed. Repositioning himself, he knelt on the mattress as he dragged her into his lap. His cock was snug inside her when she settled over his thighs, feeling just that much deeper with the new angle. 
Wasting no time, he had his hands stationed on her hips once more, setting a pace for her to bounce on his cock. 
"Think y'can fuck yourself like this, darling? Do all the hard work for me?" he murmured, dragging his lips over the same parts of her neck where he had choked her moments before.
"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she answered, a mindless reflex as he concentrated on matching his grip. 
Using the leverage of her knees on either side of him, she lifted herself off his cock, allowing his head to stretch through her pulsing walls, before sitting herself back down in a smack of her skin against his. It was a relief to put her hands on him, feeling every inch she could reach. Her palms skimmed over the broad of his shoulders, planes of his back, and the thick of his arms all with her nails following closely behind.
Harry did much of the same, trailing up the curve of her spine until he found the base of her wings. (Y/N) couldn't help but to keen into his touch, back arching through it took everything in her to keep from getting distracted and keep riding him like he had asked. 
The first graze of his fingers over her feathers was enough to get her stomach tightening, and mouth dropping into a moan. She could feel him smiling against her neck, too proud over her reaction. 
"Always so cute, even when y'don't mean to be, you know that?" he murmured, dotting a kiss just below her ear, "All I've got to do is touch your feathers, and you're done for." 
She wanted to say something, tell him that it wasn't that easy, but there was nothing that would escape her lips other than puffs of heavy breath and whining moans.  
Rocking his hips up to meet hers, that much more pleasure settled in her stomach. As much as she wanted to argue with him that she wasn't that easy to make cum, there was some truth behind the fact that she was flying towards the finish line with every brush of his fingers and rock of his hips. 
"I can feel y'squeezing me, darling," he murmured, dragging his mouth over the line of her jaw in a lingering kiss, "Y'gonna cum for me? Did I finally work hard enough for you?" 
Despite the fact he'd asked her a question, there was no way he had been expecting an answer with the way he wiggled his fingertips through the brush of her feathers and coasted along the bony structure underneath. He knew she wouldn't be able to survive that, a long moan choking out from her throat with her stomach too tight to bear. 
(Y/N) tried to keep her pacing as best she could—something she couldn't believe Harry was able to do all the time—, but the rhythm was undoubtedly interrupted as she came around him. She could feel every inch of him as her insides pulsed around him, taking in the ridge of his head and the length that had split her open in the first place. His base was pressed heavily against her clit, rivaling the pressure of his fingers dancing through her feathers. 
She wanted to be present but the heavens called to her then, the Pocket left behind for a few lingering moments. By the time she was floating back down to Earth, Harry's hands settling on her hips as he lifted her off his cock, the sight before her was enough to get her back to square one, wishing they more time. 
Harry's eyes were now completely pitch black, no more white sclera or shatters of green to be seen. His glamour had faded away, leaving the leather stretch of his wings visible, the span much larger than her own as they fanned out around them. The webbing cocooned around them, creating a curtain around her body as if there wasn't enough of him touching her already. 
His cock shone in the low light between them, her slick coating him as he fisted the length. It only took a few passes of his hand before his cum blurted out in thick ropes across her stomach. 
"Fuck—(Y/N)—I—" Nothing of coherence fell from his lips then, every bit of concentration laid to rest as he watched himself cum on an angel. 
A furrow had his brows pinched together, his eyes hooded and dark. His mouth was stagnant in a gape once he stopped trying to speak. 
It wasn't until the remaining spurts of his cum rolled down his shaft and his ruddy head was seemingly beginning to stain purple that he pulled his shaky hands away. Using his wings as well as his hands, he hugged (Y/N) to his chest with his softening cock between them. Even with the mess that was beginning to dry on her stomach, he held her tight, pressing hard kisses to her temple and side of her face until he met her lips. 
"Y'okay?" he panted to her, the tip of his nose nudging against her own. 
"I'm okay," she murmured, wrapping her own arms around his neck. 
"Happy?" he asked, just the same as he always did in these quiet moments after the storm. 
A small smile stretched over her lips. "Happy." 
Gently laying her backwards, Harry kept himself glued to her, wings and all, as they settled among the sheets. Despite the fact he had no discernible pupil, she could feel his gaze traveling over her features and taking her in as he always did. She felt bashful under his eyes, her own wings shyly tucking into her back. 
"What is it, darling?" he asked, sweeping a few stray hairs from her face. 
"Nothing, just... You." 
"Just me?" he countered, reaching blindly for his discarded shirt he'd tossed earlier. 
"Just you," she repeated with a breathy laugh, allowing him to wipe his mess away with his shirt. (How he had the courage to clean her up with it knowing that he'd have to wear it out to meet his friend later, she wasn't sure). "How long can you stay?" 
Harry's features took on a somber set at her words, just the same as she felt. "Not long, darling. Jus' long enough to make sure y'get to sleep, then I'll have to leave." 
"What if I don't fall asleep?" 
The smile he gave her told her that he was very familiar with the game she was beginning to play with him. 
"Guess I'll have to stay." 
Despite the black eyes and leathery bat wings sprouting from his back, the sweet smile and boyish dimples in Harry's cheeks could rival that of any angel in (Y/N)'s opinion. 
That was why they worked, she thought as she snuggled closer to him: she brought out the angel in him and he showed her just how fun sinning could be.
—————
ahhhh I guess this is my little contribution to the valentines day vibe this year! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas send them in!! I also have more writing available on my patreon if you want more :)
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suzukiblu · 2 months ago
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Do you read much fic yourself? and if u do, do u have any recs?
I kinda read fic in fits and starts, to be honest? Like it ebbs and it flows, pretty much, hah. So sometimes I read a TON of it and sometimes I pretty much don't read any at all. So like, currently not really, but previously enough that I def DO have recs, haha.
Not an exhaustive list of my faves, just some random Good Ones I can think of off the top of my head ( all some variant of DC or DPxDC ).
( also def read the tags on these, there's def some tags on a few of them that at least some people would wanna know about before reading. )
Catching Icarus by Fantasyfire ( YJA!Conner gets Super-adopted, interdimensionally-speaking. Fully the inspo for that "the last son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon" WIP of mine, for the record. )
I Want It That Way by WynterSky ( Tim/Kon but make it 90's and also an emotional rollercoaster. )
Stress Relief by daemoninwhite [ nsfw ] ( Kon goes to a sex club in space for some free-use/stuck-in-wall-style stress relief and gets exactly what he wants. )
Jasmine Luthor by Die_Erlkonigin6083 ( Jazz finds out her biodad is Lex Luthor and literally does not care until she finds out CONNER Luthor exists. )
The Unnecessarily Dramatic Death of One Jasmine Fenton by Rowan_the_Escapist ( Jazz and Jason meet at a party and it all goes to shit pretty quick. fyi I will chew on this worldbuilding and also this version of Jazz/Jason until I ALSO die. )
Lazy Sunday by Faeriekit [ nsfw ] ( . . . I did not think I'd be so into Jason/Tucker but uhhhhh turns out I'm real into Jason/Tucker and especially into Jason getting consensually hypnotized into a househusband while absolutely desperate for his boyfriend Dom to fuck him, go fig!! )
The French Mistake by Vamillepudding ( The wrong Bruce is in this reality but he's a much better dad than the right one, so is that really a problem?? )
Buy One, Get One by iselsis ( Incubus!Jason gets rescued/surprise-adopted by Batman and then tries to figure out if it's safe to ask Bruce to save his succubus!mom from his shitty dad. )
Catherine/Bruce Medieval AU by iselsis and PotatoLady ( I am not emotionally well about this whole entire concept, hahaha. Omegaverse medieval AU where Bruce beats Willis in a fight and therefore wins whatever belongs to him. Which in this scenario includes Catherine and Jason. )
bystander by greeneyedfirework ( Batfam omegaverse where alpha!Jason finds a messed-up Robin!Dick in heat and it is a Problem(tm). One of the specific genre of omegaverse-Robins-in-distress that was inspo for the "Robin gets nested" WIP. )
Eyes Like Kryptonite by dragonez ( Lena Luthor gets a strange Kryptonian on her balcony who doesn't know if he's from an alternate reality or time-travelling and wants specifically HER help. Kara/Lena. )
your ghost i will gladly bear by merils ( Interdimensional Timkon featuring two Robins on a rooftop while they're both dead. THIS CONCEPT, I LOVE IT. )
This isn't how things are supposed to go. But we've always been unorthodox. by RenkonNairu ( Please and thank you for this slightly niche and highly interesting omegaverse take including omega!Kon, bless. Also Tim/Kon and Bruce/Clark, accidental and deliberate and deliberately-AVOIDED bonding, and the shitty version of Lex/Clark. )
Fairy Godbrother by envysparkler ( Batbrothers accidentally-on-purpose decide to meddle in another reality's version of themselves in quick succession, or over the course of several years, depending on how you timestream it. )
. . . . . . like, just go check out thebodydies and Briarwitched, I cannot effectively narrow down the options there, haha, just gooooo.
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imaredshirt · 4 months ago
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Mystery Trio AU where Stanley and Fiddleford fix the portal but instead of Stanford coming back, they get pulled in.
And they're stuck there.
It's not so bad, Stanley reasons. At least here nobody knows him. In this weird space between dimensions, Stanley Pines has a clean slate. He can start over. He and Fiddleford can find Stanford without any dumb lawmen or old business associates or IRS agents sniffing after them, because why would anyone be after him out here? As far as anyone beyond the portal knows, he's got a squeaky clean record - never conned anyone, never stole anything, never moved any controlled substances for any old buddies.
They can do this, he tells Fiddleford. It'll be fine.
It's not until the first interdimensional bounty hunter guild releases a public statement announcing NOTORIOUS INTERDIMENSIONAL CRIMINAL STANFORD PINES FINALLY LOCATED, TRAVELING WITH UNKNOWN HUMAN, MASQUERADING UNDER THE NAME OF STANLEY PINES, BOUNTY FOR LIVE CAPTURE INCREASED - it's not until he sees this that he realizes that for the first time in his life, Stanford's fuck-ups are getting him in trouble, and not the other way around
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dolcettamagica · 11 months ago
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𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐍𝐨 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬
rick sanchez x reader
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anon request: please i can request literally anything with rick sanchez acting jealous. Thanks and if you don't accept requests just ignore this tags: sexually suggestive, possessive & obsessive rick, daddy kink notes: minors dni wc: 2.2k
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Rick doesn’t get attached.
He is Rick Sanchez. The smartest man, scratch that, creature alive. He isn’t a mere human, he is a God. Whatever Rick wants, he gets. He invented interdimensional travel. He fucked a planet.
Rick doesn’t get attached.
He knows that everything and everyone is replaceable. If someone dies he can just switch universes. Does he lose something? Same thing. Nothing is unique. There are millions of versions of everything. 
Rick doesn’t get attached.
That’s why when you confessed your feelings in a drunken haze Rick yelled at you. Rick thought you were at least smarter than Morty. You should have known that Rick doesn’t do feelings. That you’re nothing special. That you’re just a quick fuck when his cock gets hard and needs some easy pussy wrapped around it.
Rick doesn’t get attached.
He didn’t understand why he felt pressure in his heart when you started crying, endless tears streaming down your cheeks as you apologized after he rejected your feelings. He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt the need to reach his arms out and pull you into a tight embrace. Instead he insulted you as a whiny dumb bitch before disappearing through a green portal.
Rick doesn’t get attached.
So why was he fuming with rage as he saw you cuddled up on the couch with some other man weeks after he told you to fuck off?
A relentless fire, burning away any semblance of rational thought consumed Rick. His eyes smoldered with suspicion at the slightest hint of the man's attention toward you. Rick’s gestures became tense and guarded, his clenched fists betraying the turmoil within. Every smile directed at you from that dude sent a surge of insecurity coursing through Rick’s veins, twisting his features into a mask of possessiveness. Each innocent interaction fueled his rage until it consumed him entirely.
“Wh–Who the fuck is that–that lame fratboy on my couch?!”, Rick didn’t even bother to step closer, his voice dripping with anger. Your eyes shot wide open as you saw the tall scientists near the door. After your confession you avoided him as best as you could – after all you did live with the Smith family ever since your parents (their old neighbors) abandoned you. You never joined an adventure again. You never went into his garage to simply chat with him. You didn’t even ask if you could smoke space-weed. Nothing. That pissed Rick off even more because he caught himself missing you one time too many.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I’m Michael”, Michael was a polite, handsome young man, who attended the same college you did. Smiling, he reached his hand out towards Rick to shake his hand, “Are you y/n’s grandfather?”
If looks could kill every version of Michael would be dead by now. “You’re fuck–fucking stupid.” Rick would’ve loved to just kill that boy or at least cut off Michael’s hand, which was dangerously close to your thigh. You two were way too close for Rick in general. “y/n, who is that? Your new–new lover, huh? You little��� Spreading your legs a–already?”
Rick knew he was overstepping it. He should have never said that but he couldn’t help it. You didn’t talk to him for weeks after you said that you love him with all your heart and now you’re with some lame, boring dumbass? Is that what undying love looks like? 
“…You’re a fucking asshole, Rick”, Rick could hear you holding back your tears, the way your eyes started to water, your cheeks painted red. He hurt you – again. Meanwhile Michael had already stood up and made his way over to Rick.
„Listen to m–„ Michael didn‘t stand a chance, Rick immediately interrupted him. 
„Li–Listen to me, shitface. I know– You fratboys are all the fucking–fucking same. You wanna tell me y–you‘re serious about y/n?“, he stepped closer, „You– Could you give her your phone and promise–promise she wouldn‘t find nudes or chats from other pussies?“
Absolute silence. This was all it took for Rick to confirm his suspicions. „Now you‘re si–silent? Jesus. How predictable. Jesus fucking christ. You think just because you’re d–defending her right now she’ll let you have– get a piece of her? You– Do you really think y/n would do that?” More silence though now Michael’s expression almost matched Rick’s. Both were fuming with rage. Rick simply shook his head, pulled out his portal gun and ended up in his garage again. If he would have stayed any longer he would have ended up beating that fratboy to a pulp.
In the dimly lit confines of his garage, the air thick with the pungent scent of portal fluid and vodka, Rick's rage simmered beneath a haze of alcohol fumes. His knuckles whitened around his flask as he gulped down the fiery liquid, each swig fueling the inferno of jealousy and resentment burning within him. The echoes of a heated argument still reverberated in his mind, igniting a storm of emotions that threatened to consume him whole. His bloodshot eyes fixated on nothingness, yet his thoughts were consumed by visions of betrayal and deceit, twisting his features into a contorted mask of fury.
Rick's movements grew increasingly erratic, his drunken stupor amplifying the intensity of his emotions. Each swill from the bottle became a desperate attempt to drown out the insecurities gnawing at his soul. Yet, with every passing moment, the flames of anger raged higher, feeding off his intoxication like a relentless blaze devouring dry timber. Alone in the darkness, he surrendered to the tumultuous tempest raging within, consumed by a toxic cocktail of alcohol, jealousy, and resentment. Resentment towards Michael, you and most importantly – himself.
“Fuck it.”
His plan was to be teleported in the middle of your room, right in front of your bed. Instead he landed right on top of you on your bed. Maybe he really did have too much to drink. But fuck, did he miss this. Your silky hair, your soft skin, your body pressed against his, your eyes staring into his. The faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window accentuated the contours of Rick’s silhouette, casting a seductive allure over the scene. His gaze, intense and unwavering, bore into yours, a silent invitation laden with unspoken desires.
As you laid on the bed, a mixture of melancholia and yearning coursed through your veins, your heart quickening in response to his proximity. The air crackled with tension, charged with the palpable electricity of unspoken words and unfulfilled longing. Despite the intimacy of their proximity, there lingered a delicate balance between attraction and apprehension, a dance of emotions teetering on the edge of possibility. In that fleeting moment, suspended in the hazy embrace of moonlight, you found yourselves ensnared in a silent exchange of desire, your hearts entwined in the delicate threads of possibility.
“What…what are you doing, Rick? Please leave”, your voice was shaking, filled with sadness. Just like a few weeks ago when Rick rejected you. Honestly as the days unfolded, the weight of his decision settled upon him like a heavy shroud, suffocating him with the burden of regret. What once seemed like a reasoned choice now gnawed at his conscience incessantly, tormenting him with the realization of what he had forsaken. In the quiet moments of reflection, your presence lingered in the recesses of Rick’s mind, a constant reminder of the warmth and companionship he had callously turned away. He yearned for a chance to rewind time, to recant his words and embrace the opportunity he had foolishly cast aside. But as the echoes of his rejection reverberated through his thoughts, he grappled with the harsh truth that some wounds inflicted by one's own hand can never fully heal, leaving behind scars of remorse that serve as a painful testament to lost love.
In a moment of raw vulnerability, Rick found himself enveloped by a surge of longing and regret as he reached out to embrace you. His arms wrapped around your trembling form, pulling you close with a tenderness born from the depths of his remorse. With each beat of his heart, Rick felt the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken apologies pressing down upon him, a heavy burden he could no longer bear. As your bodies pressed together, he savored the warmth of your presence, a fleeting glimpse of the connection he had foolishly forsaken. In that embrace, Rick sought solace in the familiarity of your touch, yearning to erase the distance he had allowed to grow between you. But even as he held you close, Rick knew that some wounds run too deep to mend with a simple embrace, and the ache of regret would linger long after your arms had untangled and they parted ways once more. So, he didn’t let go.
“Why– Why did you b-bring that boy over?”, Rick whispered into your ear.
“…Why do you even care?”
With a heavy heart and a tangled web of emotions, Rick mustered the courage to lean back and face you, intent on conveying the depth of his regret for his earlier rejection. His words caught in his throat, a silent plea for forgiveness lingering on Rick’s lips. Yet, beneath the facade of contrition, a different truth simmered—a truth he dared not confess. Deep down, Rick knew that admitting his regret would unravel the carefully constructed walls he had built around his heart, exposing the vulnerability he had long sought to conceal. So, with practiced deceit, Rick masked his true intentions behind a facade of remorse, weaving a tangled web of half-truths and feigned contrition in a desperate attempt to suppress the stirring of emotions he dared not acknowledge. In the shadow of his deception, the echoes of his regret remained unspoken, a silent testament to the complexities of love and the fear of baring one's soul to the object of Rick’s desire.
“Did you– Did you fuck him?”
“Why do you care?”
“y/n, st–stop with this shit. Are you dating him?”
“Why do you care?”
As you persisted, your insistence slicing through the fragile veneer of Rick’s composure, a simmering rage ignited within him, fueling the flames of his resentment. With each passing moment, your few simple words bore deeper into Rick’s wounded pride, stoking the embers of his anger into a blazing inferno. The weight of your expectations pressed down upon him like a suffocating weight, a constant reminder of the vulnerability he sought to shield from your penetrating gaze. Fueled by a toxic cocktail of jealousy and insecurity, his temper flared, unleashing a torrent of pent-up frustration and bitterness.
“What the fuck– What d–do you want to hear, huh?!”, Rick leaned on his hands, which were lying next to your head.
“Rick, listen, you rejected me. You didn’t want me, remember? I can fuck and date however I fucking want! ”
“No! You fucking can’t!”, he screamed into your face, “You said– You said loved me! Talking about– about undying love and now?! Now you get with s–some young bastard from co–college who only wanted to– to fuck you anyway!”
“That’s exactly what you wanted, too! You only wanted to fuck me!”
“That’s not fucking true! I– The last fucking weeks were pure torture. I fucking m–miss you! I can’t fuck–fucking stop thinking about you, y/n. I miss your fucking smell, your h–hair, your voice. Fucking e–everything! I miss your face, the–the way you nag me to drink more water. Jesus fucking christ! I miss you. Why– Why the fuck are crying even more now?!”
With tears of joy streaming down your cheeks, you listened intently as Rick finally mustered the courage to confess the truth hidden behind his guarded facade. As his words washed over you, each syllable laden with the weight of unspoken longing and regret, a floodgate of emotions burst forth within you. Your heart soared with a bittersweet symphony of relief and elation, the echoes of Rick’s confession resonating deep within your soul. The tears that spilled from your eyes were not born of sorrow, but of an overwhelming sense of gratitude and validation, as you realized that the love you had held in your heart had not been in vain.
In a tender moment suffused with the weight of unspoken truths and undeniable desire, Rick leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours in the hazy embrace of the moonlit room. With a gentle touch, Rick cradled your face in his hands, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin. As your lips met in a fervent kiss, time seemed to stand still, the world falling away to leave only the two of you entwined in the delicate dance of passion and longing. With each caress, the walls he had built around his heart crumbled, leaving him vulnerable and exposed in the embrace of her warmth. In that moment of intimacy, you surrendered to the magnetic pull of your shared desire, bodies entangled in a silent symphony of love and redemption.
“You know– You know I’m not good with…emotions and shit. But– But you’re important to me and–and I’m not letting another man touch what’s mine.”
“You were jealous?”
“I wasn’t– Fuck it. Yes, yes, I was. Wanted to k–kill that motherfucker. The way he–he had his arm around–”, in the middle of his rant you wrapped your legs around Rick’s waist, pulling him closer. His crotch pressing against yours.
“Just so you know, I have been very, very lonely the last few weeks.”
“Oh? S–So you’ve been a good–good girl for daddy, huh?”, it didn’t take long for Rick to get hard, his bulge pressing against you, his hand now choking you slightly, “F–fuck, princess, daddy’s going to–to reward you for being so patient.”
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