#recycled fic

[hinamie]

hhmmmmm uh im dusting the cobwebs off my brain trying 2 come up w something interestinf uhh.......anything non spoiler-y you can discuss w regards to geto in the atla au perchance?

hi rin !!!!! tysm fr sending i hope u r doing well <3

atla geto lore fr u courtesy of sam:

he's a waterbender from the northern water tribe. he can bloodbend but finds it distasteful

he gave gojo the betrothal necklace/proposed to him when they were 20 (all of the adult characters are aged up in the fic vs jjk canon ages)

all of his decisions are driven by a desire to lighten the burden placed on gojo's shoulders

aaaaand atla geto draws fr u courtesy of Me :3

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[martybaker]

Over the rainbow

So I know we love torturing or at least inconveniencing retired Dream with new human ailments and realities, I love doing that as well, but the thesis of this was - what if Dream retired and he finally got to be at peace and all was well, actually 🥹

(started this for prompt First time for dreamling week but here we are over a week late)

————

“I’ve never been kissed,” Dream announces.

He’s settled on the far end of Hob’s sofa with his knees up, chin settled on top of them and arms loosely hugging his legs, somehow looking both comfortable and relaxed as well as like a model in the middle of a photoshoot.

Hob’s had a hard time not staring but when Dream says that line his eyes immediately snap to the vision on his couch, clothed in hues of beige, wrapped in Hob’s own softest cardigan, and he nearly spills the tea that he was bringing for a sip.

“Huh? What?” He asks dumbly, voice unnaturally high pitched.

Dream merely blinks at him and waits him out.

When the wheels in Hob’s brain start turning again he does try to parse that statement, but all he can come up with is: “But…you’ve had relationships? You had a wife and all, did you not kiss? Was it all like, metaphysical or-“

Dream rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Of course I’ve kissed my partners. Let me rephrase the statement. Murphy has never been kissed.”

Oh.

Dream’s talking about his new human body. His new self, that he named Murphy, a name to be used for dull but necessary identity paperwork that Hob obtained for Dream through rather illegal means.

It’s only been a little over a month since Dream turned human, but he’s been very…calm while settling into his new reality. The retirement was his own choice and he seemed to be perfectly content with his decision, despite the fact that he was forced to live with Hob in his messy little apartment while they figure something of his own for him.

Well, if.

Dream also seemed perfectly content in Hob’s space and showed no interest whatsoever in looking at flat listings.

Not that Hob minded. He would happily spend every minute every day with his friend, if it wouldn’t make him feel guilty about slacking on his job and his students. After all, Hob’s chosen career wasn’t just to keep himself busy, he really enjoyed teaching young impressionable minds about days past, keeping the history alive. Remembering.

But his joy in teaching was currently found lacking compared to the newfound joy of Dream in his home. Not just visiting, robed in dark colors, taking time off of his duties to spend a moment with Hob, but human, dressed in earthly colors, there in the mornings for shared breakfasts and still there in the evenings when Hob returned. Reading a book, slowly going through Hob’s vast vinyl collection, playing the piano, painting, knitting, molding clay. Pale blue eyes focused and clever hands at work, creating, always creating. He’s always been an artist and that part of him stayed true, despite the big change.

All things considered, Hob’s really been having a hard time keeping his foolish heart in check. And with Dream saying things like this, things like-

“This mouth has never been kissed.”

Hob’s eyes drop to Dream’s lips as soon as Dream says that, just to see them twitch in a pleased smile.

Hob stares at him, at a loss for words, while Dream looks back at him expectantly. Expecting…an answer? A reassurance?

Hob clears his throat. “Well…I’m sure it will be? It’s a very lovely mouth,” he says, unable to stop the blush coloring his cheeks.

Dream sighs a long suffering sigh and pets the couch next to himself. “Come here,” he commands.

There’s no ancient power of a monarch of the Dreaming behind it anymore, but Dream still keeps his regality, his head held high, a quiet gravitas to him. Not quite the same as when he was an Endless, but still there.

Confident, elegant, graceful.

And calm, like the still water of an indigo lake high in the mountains.

Hob blinks. What was the question? Oh, right, he was being summoned. He moves to sit next to Dream.

Dream turns towards him, leans in and closes his eyes.

Is he…?

Hob is frozen in shock once again. “Ahh, you, you want me to…?”

Dream opens his sky blue eyes again, staring into Hob’s soul. “Yes,” he says decisively.

There’s a beat when they just stare into each other’s eyes and then Dream closes his again. Waiting, alluring lips just a few inches from Hob’s.

But Hob’s having a crisis. They’ve never done this before! Dream’s never said anything about being…attracted to Hob, he’s never suggested, he never seemed interested that way.

One time, Hob got drunk and Dream had to drag his ass upstairs to bed, and Hob was just enough at his senses to remember that he slurred: “D’ya know what I like best about being immortal?”

“What,” Dream asked as he pulled Hob upwards, making sure he wouldn’t stumble on the stairs.

And Hob smiled goofily and said: “You.”

Dream just blinked at him. He didn’t say anything, not then, not when Hob got propositioned by the shopkeep when they were out together, browsing for new (old) records, not when Death was visiting and she teased if they changed their dates to weekly instead of centennialy.

Not when they were walking in a park, and Dream seemed to be watching a couple on another path on a stroll as well, holding hands.

Hob’s good mood made him act foolish, he reached out a hand in offering, but Dream… he just stared at it. Hob quickly withdrew it, running it through his hair, chuckling nervously. “I was just teasing,” he said weakly, but by that point he was sure his feelings were transparent and Dream’s lack of reaction was a clear signal.

Then again, maybe this was just harmless experimentation? Wanting to know what it feels like, being kissed as a human?

But Hob still hesitates. He feels too strongly about Dream to casually mess around without being wary of the consequences.

“Uhh, wait. I, are you sure? I don’t-“

Dream sighs and his patience with Hob apparently runs out because he pulls Hob towards him by his shirt, kissing him square on the lips.

Hob makes a surprised sound, but then he closes his eyes and falls into the kiss.

It’s unhurried and rather chaste, yet Hob’s heart seems to be doing its best trying to jump out of his chest.

Dream pulls away, slowly opening his eyes.

“How….how did that feel?” Hob asks, reminding himself that this was just an experiment. A one time deal.

Dream contemplates his answer. “Different,” he says.

“Different than when you were..Endless?

“Yes.”

“Good different or bad different?”

Dream frowns. “No such dichotomy applies,” he says, and then he leans back in again and Hob leans away.

He chuckles nervously. “Ahh, haha, hold on. You’re gonna make me think you like kissing me.” He tries to turn it into a joke, holding Dream lightly by his shoulders, trying to prevent him from darting forward again.

Dream glares at him. “And what, pray tell, is making you think I don’t.”

“Oh…really?” Hob lets go of one bony shoulder to pinch his own arm. Surely, he’s still asleep and this is just a …dream.

Dream’s glare turns even more unimpressed. “You’re awake,” he says, sharp, and as if to prove his point he kisses Hob again, more hungrily and passionately, biting at his lower lip, Hob’s hold too slack to hold him back.

They kiss and kiss and it’s far from chaste this time, Dream seems to have made it his mission to explore Hob’s mouth thoroughly, while his hands explore his chest.

Hob’s hand burrows into Dream’s hair, he isn’t able to hold back now, kissing back with vigor, treasuring Dream’s every gasp.

They’re both breathing hard by the time they part - by the time Hob has to pull Dream back by his hair to stop him from diving back in.

He can’t help but laugh. “You do actually need to breathe now, you know.”

Dream doesn’t seem too pleased with this reminder. He huffs, sitting back onto his heels.

Hob already misses the feeling of him in his arms.

He clears his throat. There’s a very important question to be asked first.

“Is it…just the kissing that you like?”

Dream tilts his head at Hob like a cat, measuring him. “You cannot tell?”

Hob shakes his head.

“You’re not very bright, Hob Gadling,” Dream says, and Hob would protest, he would tease back, but the words get stuck in his throat when Dream takes Hob’s hand into his own, putting it on his chest and making Hob feel his racing heartbeat.

Hob inhales, blushing.

“You…I…,” he sighs, searching for words. “I still have a lot to learn,” he offers, smiling at Dream.

“As do I,” says Dream.

It is marvelous seeing Dream like this. His words are confident but his heart beats wildly under Hob’s hand, pink colors his cheeks, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

He’s trusting Hob with this, with his very human body whose reactions he cannot temper, cannot regulate.

Hob chuckles, feeling warm.

He loves this, the marvelous feeling of finding out your crush likes you back, the feeling that’s always incredible, no matter the time and place, no matter how many times he’s experienced it. One of his favorite feelings, the ones that make life an amazing journey.

“I really thought you weren’t interested in me like that,” he says.

Dream sighs. “I…could not be.”

Hob’s heart aches.

He has to touch, now that he’s allowed, now that he’s invited to. He kisses Dream’s forehead, his cheeks, delighting in the sighs he earns.

He kisses Dream's neck and Dream tilts his head for better access, making Hob feel lightheaded and so full of happiness he can hardly contain it. “I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you now,” he warns. “I’ll kiss you a hundred times every day.”

“A thousand times” Dream says, and Hob laughs, scraping his teeth against alabaster skin, making Dream moan.

He smirks, gaining back his confidence now that he knows Dream means this. He holds him around the waist, pulling him closer.

“I did learn a certain thing or two over the years,” he says slyly, dipping Dream backwards, laying him on the couch. Dream sighs indulgently, wrapping his hands around Hob’s shoulders, holding him close.

“Want me to show you?” Hob asks, and Dream hums in confirmation, pulling him for another kiss.

Soft notes play from the old record player, outside warm spring sun rays melt the last reminders of winter, birds chirp their welcoming songs.

Hope is in the air.

Dream’s here, in Hob’s home, in his arms. The cold weeks when he was distant and quietly hurting and Hob could sense something was very, very wrong but didn’t know how to fix it now seem like a distant memory too.

Hob pulls back for a second, holding Dream’s head in his hands, savoring the moment.

“Will you stay?” he whispers.

Dream inhales, his hand shaking a little when he places it on Hob’s cheek, caressing Hob’s lips with his thumb.

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he says, smiling.

————

[ew-selfish-art]

Here’s the thing about the Twin AU that people aren’t considering: the Drs Fenton are resourceful! They can make amazing inventions out of household objects and machines!

So when they were accepting a contract from Ra’s to look at the Lazarus Pits in conjunction to their research (ie the best dissertation material ever) they looked at the spare twin that was being sacrificed and said “a perfectly good baby like that would probably be nice to have around!”

Sure, the Spare Heir was ecto contaminated because of the pits and that’s why Ra’s was getting rid of him, but seriously, not everything needed to be brand new these days! Upcycle! Science can fix all the ectoplasm and possession! He’ll be just like new in no time! Take that baby out of the pit and wash em up and take that baby to the Midwest! Teach that baby about stars and Ghosts!

The Drs Fenton take baby danny on their last day, knowing that the league thinks that he’s dead- already sacrificed, Ra’s felt the power shift of the Infinite Realms- and proceed forward like nothing was ever a big deal! They published their findings on the pits, they got another contract/grant and then began the journey to start moving towards their other projects!

Why tell Jazz, she’s only a toddler when they bring him home?

Why tell Danny, he’s just their little man, their Dann-o?

Things will probably be fine, because just like their up cycled machines and portals- an upcycled baby wouldn’t have any problems! Their inventions always worked perfectly! Their son would be just as perfect!

Cue the shenanigans of Damian and Danny meeting, the normal amount of “you’re the clone” finger pointing (which Danny wins because he has actual baby/childhood photos) and then some ghosts of assassins past trying to cause issues for Phantom.

[lizardkingeliot]

I have an au brewing in my head and I don't wanna give too much away rn but it's mostly going to be an excuse to explore Louis and Lestat continuing to hook up in a modern setting after The Little Drink happens because I need to get all the way in Louis' head about this...

Like what are you thinking what are you FEELING after you hook up with this person you like so much and he drinks your blood... and you get off about it. And it makes you feel closer than you've ever felt to anyone. And you don't know he's a vampire yet... until suddenly you do.

I'm also mildly obsessed with the idea of human Louis having an extended affair with Lestat knowing he's a vampire. There is just… so much to explore there. And I'm gonna give too much away if I keep going so I am SHUTTING UP. 😎

[fiveredlights]

buck and eddie but maxiel??? consider me intrigued

“You have a child,” Max echoes quietly, gripping the door handle that’s digging into his back. The takeaway and beers he’d foolishly brought over as a distraction abandoned on the floor, the fall cushioned by the hallway mat.

Daniel looks up sheepishly from where he’s sat on the couch, a child wrapped up in a blanket in his arms. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, his curls wild and wearing an old, stretched out shirt that’s loose enough to show to the top of Daniel’s tattoos on his collarbone.

“Yeah.” Daniel croaks out, grimacing as he stands up from the couch, the child still in his arms. “Surprise?”

how daniel acquires this child i haven’t decided yet like maybe a bird dropped a baby on his doorstep or more realistically someone he had a one night stand with got pregnant and didn’t tell him but that’s a problem for future me.

anyways they start coparenting this child without realising it. when daniel has to fly down to australia for the race (because marketing doesn’t care he has a new baby) max kicks everyone off his plane just so it’s them three.

max uses the baby to get out of events he doesn’t wanna do like “oh no i can’t do that i’ve gotta look after the baby” and people are like “but they’re not your baby” and max is like “okay bye” and just doesn’t show up.

daniel has updated his will to say if he dies max looks after the baby and doesn’t tell him until months later like lol yeah this is a thing i did and max is like aw how nice that you trust me as a Friend to do that and probably everyone around them slams their head into tables because how dense can you be.

fast forward to when the baby grows up and can form thoughts and talk, they are very confused to find out that their parents aren’t dating. like this child was under the assumption that his parents? together. wedded. married. engaged, maybe. like yes friends can raise children together but this isn’t that.

max and daniel then proceed to have an awkward conversation with their kid like “yeah buddy no me and max are just friends” and their kid is like “but you love each other and not like the friend love like i love sally or whoever but the love love like how uncle george and alex or grandma grace and grandpa joe look at each other” and daniel’s like 🧍‍♂️

(max is like okay buddy we’re gonna get ice cream and let your dad process some thoughts because i’ve already been at the station a long time)

they go to bed that night and before they part ways into their seperate bedrooms daniel’s like “why aren’t we dating. like we live together, raise a kid together, travel together—” and max literally dives down and kisses him like “great i was wondering when you would get there i’ve BEEN waiting!”

daniel: how long have you been waiting

max: maybe since 2017 but probably 2024 is when i actually realised

(daniel almost passes out again)

tldr: whatever buck and eddie have done to each other to parent-trap each other with christopher but maxiel.

[themightynyunyi]

Without you I am lost I keep you at any cost

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Hey!!

Can I request “are you wearing my shirt?” with Dylan? Please and thank you!

Love you xx

You've waited a long time for this...

SO YES, I most certainly can! This sounds like fun :) MUCH LOVE!

Authors Note: Cliche? Maybe. But some lines are classic. Sue me. But like, don't? Litigation is expensive ;) p.s. smut... p.p.s. x female reader.

Prompt list HERE, but currently closed. This prompt is like a year old :/

Better on the Floor

Exhausted would be putting it mildly. You'd had a long week and the fact that it was only Wednesday wasn't helping. When you got home, you kicked out of your shoes, stretching out your aching toes as you stripped out of your stiflingly uncomfortable clothes, wandering your way slowly down the hall toward the bedroom. You peeled off your underwear and tossed them in the hamper before you padded into the bathroom to turn on the faucet of the bathtub. You watched the water pool in the palm of your hand, running out between the gaps of your fingers until it was just this side of scalding before you plugged the tub.

You stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam and then pulled open the drawer of the vanity to grab a bath bomb. You watched impatiently as the bath slowly filled before tossing the little ball of Epsom salt into the water, watching it fizz for a few moments before you followed after and slid into the water.

You could almost feel the muscles of your back sigh in relief as the warmth washed over them, drawing out at least some of the tension that had been locking them in place for days. You relaxed against the slope of the bath, letting your neck roll against the soft bath cushion for a few minutes. Enjoying the silence long enough to feel human again before you flicked the water from your hands and reached down to grab your phone from the bathmat.

Your discover playlist on Spotify was something you liked to try to fit in during the week because you always liked finding something new, and you hadn't had a chance yet this week. Now seemed as good a time as any. You tapped to play and then set your phone down on the edge of the bath. You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed before the music faded out to an incoming notification, but when you swiped to view the text, your fingers were wrinkled and pale from the soak.

Dylan: So... I'm outside... and I'm an idiot

You smiled and shook your head before your smile turned to more of a smirk. You sat up a bit in the bath, shaking the water off your other hand so you could reply.

You: Alright. I'm intrigued.

Dyan: I might have...maybe...possibly left my keys in my trailer

You: How'd you get home?

Dylan: Fob wasn't on my key ring after I had it detailed

Dylan: Come let me in? I feel like a creep lurking out here

You: One sec

This was exactly like him, and it only made you love him more. You smiled as you stepped out of the bath and quickly toweled dry with one that was a bit smaller than you'd like if you were going to the door, so you snatched his bundled t-shirt off the counter and pulled it on before you rushed to the front door and unlocked it.

"Hey," he said with a smile when you opened the door.

"Hey," you replied, reaching out your hand to take his. You pulled him inside and into a tight hug, standing up on the tips of your toes and locking your arms together around his neck.

He gently kicked the door closed behind him and locked the deadbolt before he fully hugged you back, squeezing you tight around the waist and sighing into the damp hair at the nape of your neck.

"Oh no... you were in the bath, weren't you?" He pulled back and cupped your cheek in his palm. "Sorry, baby."

"'S'okay..." you hummed, nuzzling into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his palm on your cheek.

"You must have been so cozy in there..." He admired you for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his gaze roamed down over your body.

You smiled, blushing at his attention.

"You look pretty comfy now though..." he said softly, pausing for a moment before he continued. "Is that...are you wearing my shirt?"

"Mhm..." you hummed, swaying slightly in his arms.

His eyes continued roaming, his hands following the trail they blazed until they were toying with the hem of it that was skirting across your upper thighs.

The skimming touch of his fingertips on your skin lit it with goosebumps. "It looks better on me..." you lied.

"Maybe..." he chuckled softly, pulling his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before his eyes met yours again, "but it'd look even better on the floor."

Did it matter that it was a line if ever you'd heard one? Not even slightly. It still sent a filthy little shiver down your spine. It didn't help that he'd leaned in and was peppering the side of your throat with wet little kisses as he walked you backward until you were pressed to the wall of the entryway.

He kissed you hard, his hands pinning your shoulders to the wall before they slid down your body and pulled his shirt up over it. He tossed it on the floor and then leaned in again, his nose brushing against yours before he whispered in your ear.

"See?" he breathed, his lips wet on your skin. His fingertips ghosted along your skin until one palm settled on your chest, the other on your ass.

You didn't see a damn thing except for little stars, but he'd more than made his point. You punched out an abrupt panted breath at the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipple before he sealed his lips to yours and swallowed down the little moan he pulled from you.

He kissed you until you were breathless, and in the brief reprieve he offered—mouthing along your jawline and driving you wild with the little grazes of his teeth—you managed to draw in a ragged enough lung full of air to keep from passing out.

You were pretty sure you'd collapse if he wasn't holding you in place. His touch, his admiration of your body, it had you forgetting just how awful you'd been feeling just an hour ago. Turns out? A hot bath and a fine-ass man putting his hands all over you are the curealls for just about everything. Who knew.

"Missed you..." he hummed against the thin skin that covered your collarbone.

Your head fell back against the wall.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you..." he said before he kissed his way to the dip at the base of your throat. "Took a shower on my break..."

You looked down at him, at his hand that was clasped to your upper arm, those beautiful veins painting across the tendons that flexed at his grip. His dark hair smelled of his shampoo.

"Had me so riled up I had hide in there and beat off just so I could be seen in fucking public."

It made you immeasurably happy that he was still infatuated enough with you that he was capable of expressing the laughably pathetic self-control of a hormone-addled teen. Your cheeks flushed and a little chuckle shook your chest.

"I deserve that..." He smiled against your skin, before he pulled back from you, his eyes locking with yours. "But I mean..." his gaze flicked down your body before his hand that had been nestled into the dip of your waist slipped down between the two of you until he was cupping the warmth of your core in his hand. "Can you blame me?"

"Fuck."

Now he was the one chuckling, but it quickly faded, his expression shifting from sly to sultry when his fingers slipped inside of you.

You groaned, your head falling forward to his clothed shoulder. You gripped the fabric of his shirt, stretching out the neck enough to expose some skin for you to latch onto with a nipping little bite.

He winced, sucking in a quick breath before he distracted you from your mission to mark your territory with a curl of his fingers inside you.

"Oh— Shit!" you gasped, panting into the cotton of his shirt until it was damp with your desperate breaths.

"That feel good?" he asked, even though the way you were squeezing his fingers had to be answer enough.

You nodded against his chest before he used the curled index finger on his free hand to lift your chin.

"Good," he said before he leaned in and kissed you.

His soft lips felt incredible, the flavour mint on his breath mixed with the faintest hint of tobacco, the combination had become something uniquely 'him' to you. It made your head spin. So, when his tongue begged to be let in to play with yours, you were happy to oblige.

You let him work you over until you could feel that little buzz building up inside you, that tingling hint that—with just a little more effort, one more precise little motion—he'd have you cumming before he was even out of his shoes, and that hardly seemed acceptable.

Breaking your kiss, you pulled away from his chasing lips, knowing you must look absolutely wrecked, and then you gripped him through his pants.

He tossed his head back and practically growled at your touch, his fingers stilling for only a moment before his eyes met yours once more with a fierce, fiery need. He shoved your hand aside and ripped open the zipper of his jeans and shoved your hand into his boxers.

"That's what you do to me..." he said, rutting into your palm, matching his pace with his fingers inside you as he kicked out of his sneakers.

You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off him, tossing it against the wall behind him. "Take those off..." you said, flicking your gaze down his body at his pants, flexing your wrist inside his boxers.

He stepped out of his jeans and socks and then pressed you against the wall once more, rubbing his thigh against the back of his arm to apply a bit more pressure to the hand that was driving you insane.

"You close?" he asked, nosing your jawline and breathing against your skin.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat before you spoke. "Yes..."

He pressed his thumb against your clit and you gasped his name into his hair when his lips fell to your chest.

Just when you thought he was going to shove you off the edge, you felt his fingers slip free from you before he slid down onto his knees in front of you. His warm brown eyes looking up at you, his soft lips parted just inches from your skin. This was criminal. This was attempted murder in the first degree.

When his tongue teased over you, the flutter of his eyelashes was almost enough to get you off. It looked like he was taking a hit of a designer drug...getting high off you.

He moaned against your skin and his hands pinned your hips to the wall, gripping the soft skin under them tight enough that it stung. That tiny hint of pain only made all of it better.

Your hands tangled into his hair, drawing him closer to you. You sighed out his name and half-formed expletives as his tongue teased you back to that precipice he'd had you teetering over minutes earlier.

He sealed his lips around the singing little bundle of nerves and flicked his tongue, his beard teasing the sensitive skin, before he let his lips fall open and he lapped along the slick of you he'd made slicker with his skilled mouth.

You were trembling now, your fingernails scraping along the back of his neck now, your legs weak with the effort of holding yourself up when all you wanted to do was fall apart.

"Come for me..." he breathed before he sealed his lips again.

Demand? Request? It hardly fucking mattered, because before you could classify it as either you were doing it. You were calling out, grasping his shoulders and trembling against his hold on your hips.

He pulled back from you, wiping his mouth into the palm of his hand before he stood in front of you once more. "Mmm...." he hummed before you watched him stroke his length with his wet hand. "Love the way you sound when you're cussing my name..."

Fuck. He'd only just made you come and you felt a new little ember spark to life inside you just waiting to be stoked. Insatiable was putting it lightly. When he kissed you this time, you could taste what he'd done to you—how he'd just driven you wild—and you needed to make him feel just as good.

You stepped apart enough to make more space for him between your legs and pulled him toward you. "Need you..." you whispered against his lips.

"Need me to what?" he replied, kissing along your jawline to your ear before he lapped against your throat and sealed his lips to suck a little mark into your skin.

You bucked your hips against him, feeling his length slide through the mess he'd made of you. "To fuck me..."

The way he responded to those words never got old. You held them in reserve, generally choosing to be a touch more subtle. He practically growled, his head snapping back, his dark eyes trained on yours when his grip on you tightened.

You gasped when he hefted you up in front of him, lining himself up with you, locking your thighs around his hips before he pinned you to the wall so he could free one of his hands enough to lock one of your wrists up in it just above your head. Then he drove into you in a slow, firm thrust.

"Dylan!" you cried out before he kissed you again, grinding you back against the wall before he began a more predictable, yet tantalizing rhythm.

A perfectly good couch in the living room just steps away really, a bed down the hall that was plush and waiting, and yet here you were fucking against the wall a step inside the front door like a couple of rabid animals.

When he fucked you like this he never retreated, in this position he just rocked his body into yours. The pressure it provided just where you wanted it most was unmatched. It was incredible and intense. It quickly reminded you why the couch and the bed should be neglected from time to time. Variety is the spice of life, right? And this particular variety was delicious.

"Fuck, baby..." he moaned, his hand slipping from yours, his fingers gliding through your hair until they were tangled into it and he tugged it just enough to make you wince. "So good... so fucking tight..."

"Shit!" He was driving you fucking wild. Sometimes you wish you could take just a tiny day trip into his mind to see if you made him feel as unhinged as he did you. Hardly seemed possible, but the way he looked buried inside you? You could be tempted to believe there was a chance his infatuation could rival your own.

Your body was trembling again and you felt that familiar tug inside you, that welcomed warmth building. Desire and need beginning to fold to bliss and euphoria. Was he with you? Was he ready?

The stutter of his hips, the faltering of that perfect rhythm, they were signs that he was on the edge of his own release. His breath grew ragged, and his jaw clenched with the effort it was clearly taking him to hold it back.

You didn't want him to wait, he was ready and so were you. You leaned forward and kissed him, clenching around him as the final roll of his hips had you coming undone around him.

The soft rumble of the groan he let out into your mouth when you felt him spill inside you made every sensation feel all the more intoxicating. Moments like this were almost unfathomable. How did you end up here? Lucky enough to have this man panting against your chest? It was absurd really. Absolutely batshit.

After a few moments of shared giggles and coming back to reality, he picked the shirt you'd been wearing off the floor and handed it to you to slip back on.

He appraised you as you tugged the hem down over your body.

"What?" you asked, smoothing the new tangles in your hair.

"Nothin'..." he said with a shrug, pulling on his boxers. "Just nice being right."

You narrowed your eyes. "About?"

"Definitely better on the floor."

[clearwillow]

Shared this teaser with patrons last month and I wasn't originally planning to post it elsewhere but decided that yeah...I guess I probably should to prove I'm trying to write? It's finished, but I'm still working on editing with my beta. It also still doesn't have a name cause every title I think of has been used or doesn't really fit it.

Anyway here's a look at it.

Inuyasha would give her looks, and she was positive that he knew she was silently going off the rails, but he never brought attention to it. Kagome appreciated how he’d changed in this regard; back when they were teenagers he wouldn’t have hesitated to make a deal out of her prolonged silence. It had usually led to a fight, and she’d used the beads unnecessarily. Luckily that thought shifted her focus. “Do you still have the beads of subjugation?”

“Yup.” Inuyasha reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out the string of dark colored beads. “What brought this on? Do you want to see if they still work?”

There was no suspicion in his voice, no sign of anger that she’d even mentioned the accessory he’d been forced to wear since the day they’d met. Only curiosity. Kagome still shook her head furiously. “N-no, of course not!”

He got up from the table and came to sit on the floor next to Kagome’s chair. “Well, I’m curious. Go ahead,” he urged.

“S… s-sit?” Kagome winced, expecting to feel the floor vibrate from the impact of Inuyasha hitting it…but there was nothing. Inuyasha continued to sit there, and there was a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes. “Inuyasha? Did…did you…want to be –”

“Keh! Hell no,” he chuckled humorlessly. “But I thought there might have still been a chance that they had their power after all this time. I had a feeling that when Kaede went to join Kikyo that the spell would break, but I couldn’t bring myself to test it. I don’t know if I could have handled it if I knew for sure.”

Kagome reached out and nudged him to lay his head on her leg. Slowly, she brushed her fingers through his hair. “You wore them all this time and never once tried? Why?”

“It was all I had left of you,” he whispered. “If I found out I could take them off…it would have been like I was throwing away the last connection I had to you.”

How many times could a heart break? Kagome wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but it felt like hers had again. “I took advantage of their spell too often. I wouldn’t think you’d want to remember that.”

“You saved me with these on a few occasions, don’t forget. The other times I was being stupid, and believe me when I look back on those memories, I want to kick my own ass. We were both wrong, but we were too stubborn to admit it.”

“Do you want to take them off?” she asked. Inuyasha looked up at her with a hint of panic and she quickly added, “We could display them? I won’t make you get rid of them, Inuyasha. I just thought that you might want to keep them where they can be seen and you could put them on whenever you’d like.”

Inuyasha visibly relaxed, resting his cheek on her thigh once again. “Yeah…yeah, we could do that.”

“No rush, of course.”

“Of course.”

They sat in silence after that, and Kagome continued to run her fingers through his hair. She hadn’t expected Inuyasha to change his view of the beads, but then it had been a long time since he’d been made to wear them. The way he’d looked at her moments before made her dinner turn over in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to upset him, and she certainly didn’t want to make him throw away something he’d come to cherish. Seeing his reaction must have been what he was seeing in her eyes earlier.

[arkhammaid]

lol have memes for girl!oscar fic i'm currently writing 🤭 (i'm so back)

spoilers beneath the cut and remember to click on the pics for full text!!

[voidstilesplease]

firstprince soulmates au

[possamble]

forgot i wanted to post one of the other versions of how the final scene of chapter 5 went bc it like... wasn't right for the story but had some crunch to it that i was sad to bench

[v-thinks-on]

Phoenix is nudged into awareness by the feeling of someone stirring underneath him. He’s sprawled across the wine red sheets, with Miles Edgeworth pinned underneath his heavy, sleep-laden limbs, awake and struggling to extricate himself.

Phoenix frantically retreats to his side of the bed. This wasn’t exactly what he imagined for their first morning together - he’s not even sure that it really counts.

Miles recomposes himself after being nearly crushed, but to Phoenix’s surprise, he stays lying in the center of the bed - it is his bed, after all - half-curled toward Phoenix. He won’t meet Phoenix’s eyes, but he hasn’t turned away either. Phoenix is hopeful that Miles’s expression is awkward, not annoyed, but it’s hard to tell.

“Miles…?” Phoenix says cautiously.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Miles doesn’t sound too pleased about it.

“I didn’t give you much of a choice.”

“I-I wasn’t trying to get up… just get comfortable,” Miles mutters so quietly Phoenix isn’t sure he hears it right.

Phoenix can’t tell if the pink tinge on Miles’s cheeks is a reflection from the red sheets or a blush.

“Oh,” Phoenix says.

Before he has a chance to try to figure out where to go from here - what wouldn’t be too much - Miles abruptly brushes his hand across Phoenix’s cheek, only to pull it away just as quickly.

“Ngh. How did you do it so smoothly?” Miles demands.

Phoenix bites back a laugh. “I, uh…”

Instead of trying to come up with an answer, he gently reaches out to cup Miles’s cheek. His skin is warm and soft, and Phoenix is pretty sure that is a blush. Miles’s expression immediately softens as he leans into the touch, probably without even knowing he’s doing it, but there’s still a crease in his brow. Phoenix trails his fingers across Miles’s forehead to brush aside some stray hairs, in soft disarray from the night’s sleep.

“That’s how,” Phoenix concludes with what he admits is probably a smirk, his hand lingering at Miles’s cheek.

With a determined expression, Miles reaches out toward Phoenix’s face and brushes aside the stay hairs on Phoenix’s forehead, and then he runs his fingers fleetingly down Phoenix’s cheek.

On an impulse, Phoenix catches Miles’s hand before he can pull away entirely. Maybe Phoenix shouldn’t be surprised that Miles’s muscles, from his fingers to his palm, are all taut with tension that probably never goes away, though his obvious nerves probably don’t help. Still, Miles lets Phoenix intertwine their fingers, like a subtle embrace. He wonders if it’s Miles’s heart he can feel racing, or just his own.

It takes longer than Phoenix expects before Miles turns away again, flustered. “W-we should probably-”

Phoenix can’t help but be a little disappointed, but he disentangles their hands without complaint. “How about some breakfast?”

“It’s almost noon.”

“What do you mean, almost noon?” Phoenix can only wonder how long Miles has been awake. “Lunch then?”

“I can make us something.”

That’s not exactly what Phoenix had in mind, but he can’t exactly make Miles breakfast - or lunch - in bed, when he’s stuck hobbling around on crutches.

They’re still both a little reluctant to get out of bed, but eventually they can’t excuse delaying any longer, and Miles helps Phoenix up. Phoenix wonders if it’s just his imagination that Miles is a little handsier than usual and his touch lingers a little longer. By the time they’re both dressed and ready, it’s after noon.

Phoenix hobbles after Miles into the kitchen and sits down at the bar. “When my foot’s better, I promise I’ll do all the cooking and cleaning for a month.”

Miles pauses mid-step, and Phoenix belatedly realizes what he just suggested.

“You don’t have to,” Miles says, without looking at him. “I’ll have to help out anyway so you don’t mess up my kitchen.”

“Hold it!” Phoenix says on principle, but he’s not sure it’s actually a no.

“Objection overruled,” Miles says as he crosses the kitchen.

“You’re not the judge!”

“It’s my kitchen.” Miles smirks like he knows he’s won the case.

Phoenix has some impulse to kiss away Miles’s smirk, but he’s all the way on the other side of the room, and things are going so well, Phoenix is hesitant to push his luck.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Jesus – fuck!” Keith yanks down on the yoke with all his might, making their little pod rear back, missing the gigantic asteroid by mere inches. He watches with wide eyes as the asteroid continues rocketing by, acutely aware that he nearly smashed the pod in everyone in it.

There’s a tense, speechless silence in the pod for a moment, everyone aware of how close they were to becoming Actual Space Debris, before Romelle speaks up.

Because of course it was Romelle.

“Maybe focus on keeping us not dead and daydream about gay reunions later,” she says drily, and Keith bites back a scathing response, because he realises he has absolutely no leg to stand on, there.

“My bad,” he says instead. Romelle rolls her eyes fondly before decking him lightly on the shoulder.

Well, it would be lightly, were she not an Altean. But she is, and Keith has to tense every muscle in his body to keep from crying out in agony like a loser.

“Wait, no, not your bad,” Krolia says.

Romelle blinks at her. “Okay, I get he’s your son and all, but it very much was his bad.”

“No, I got a signal for a second!”

Keith whips around, staring at his mother with wide eyes. “You got signal? Seriously?”

“Yes! I think it was the magnetic flare from the asteroid! Get close to it again, I might be able to hold the signal long enough to broadcast!”

Keith does not waste a moment. He turns the pod around at lightning speed, pushing it as fast as it will go to catch up to the asteroid, carefully avoiding its surrounding debris, which is a lot harder than it looks, and causes a significant amount of turbulence. Which, of course, sets Kosmo off, howling at the windows and scratching at anything he can reach, on top of the deafening grinding sound of surrounding space rocks smashing into each other at high speeds, and the crackling of the comms they are desperately trying to make work.

“Anything?” Keith yells over the chaotic noise of Every Sound At Once.

“Yes! The signal is getting stronger! Once I can get it to connect, it should maintain itself, so keep close just a little longer!”

Keith grits his teeth, wrapping both hands around the yoke and ignoring the voice in his head – that sounds suspiciously like Lance – that makes a dirty joke about the position. He just focuses as hard as he can, trying to keep as close to the asteroid as he can without smashing the ship into it or getting smashed by all the debris travelling at several hundred miles an hour.

“Closer!” Krolia shouts.

Keith resists the urge to tell her that he’s closer to the asteroid right now than he’s ever been to any parental figure in his life, because that would be uncalled for and also rude and he is a Mature Adult, now.

He nudges them the slightest smidge closer, praying to the universe at large that the thrusters don’t give out, and finally Krolia shouts in success.

“I got it! I got Voltron! Pull back!”

With great relief, Keith does, putting as much distance between them and immediate mortal peril as he can. Once the asteroid is far enough away that Keith no longer feels his heart attempting to pound clean through his chest, he slumps over the controls, repeatedly reminding himself that this is, at the very least, better than the goddamn motherfucking bitch-ass space rift.

(Which is, honestly, a very low bar. Contracting E. coli from getting a swirly would be better than the space rift. But still. Small victories, et cetera, et cetera.)

“Um, hi?” comes a voice Keith hasn’t heard in two fucking years, and he almost cries in relief.

Well, not almost. There are tears streaming down his face. But he feels he’s pretty justified, so it’s whatever.

“Pidge!” he calls, ditching the pilot’s seat and fully running over to where Krolia sits, radio holoscreen up and working.

His old teammate gapes at him. “Keith?!”

Keith grins, soft and happy. “Hey, man. I missed you.”

She stares at him in silence, for several minutes. Keith lets her gather herself, even though the silence is getting real awkward real fast.

“Why do you look jacked as hell?” is what Pidge decides on, and God, it’s been so long since he’s heard a dumbass remark that’s definitely a poorly disguised roast, somehow. It feels like home.

“Because I am jacked as hell. I spent two years in Actual Hell –”

Romelle glares at him. “Quit talking shit about my actual place of residence –”

“Your place of residence imprisoned me for two fucking years I will talk all the shit I want –”

“I can beat you up, Kogane, try me –”

“I can handle a beating and still run my mouth, M’lyoy, so I will try you –”

“Children!” Krolia barks, and they both snap their mouths shut so hard there’s an audible click. “We have desperate, time-sensitive information. You have been bickering for three straight days. Can it, or so help me, I will turn this ship around.

“Goddamn, Kogane,” Pidge says after a moment, “someone just got told off. What, did you fuck off and find your mother or something?”

Keith blinks. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“How did I know that – I was joking, dude, fuck! Is that actually your mother?”

“I am,” Krolia says. “You must be Pidge. The short one who cusses often.”

Keith freezes. “Ma,” he hisses, “why would you tell her I said that?”

“Three straight days,” she deadpans, completely uncaring.

Pidge glares at him. “I’ll admit I missed you, you bitch, but please know that you are so, so fucking lucky you are not within bayard distance.”

“Noted,” Keith says weakly.

“I can smack him for you, if you like,” Romelle offers, not even attempting to hide a smirk.

“Thank you, strange Altean, whose existence baffles me beyond comprehension,” Pidge says.

Romelle attempts to do as promised, but Keith jerks out of the way at the last second, and then scrambles over to Krolia’s other side to avoid any further assault.

“Coward,” she and Pidge say at the same time.

Man, having little sisters is annoying. Almost as annoying as having an older brother. Keith wishes he was back to being an only child.

(Not really.)

“Can we please get back on task,” Keith says, which is hilarious coming from him, but whatever.

“Right,” Pidge says, face turning serious. “What the hell is going on?”

“First of all, where’s everyone else?”

“Doing other shit,” Pidge says, “I’m on monitoring duty. Coran and Hunk are reworking the control panel for the accelerators, Shiro’s meditating, Allura and Lotor are on their Oriande mission, and Lance is – actually, I have no idea what Lance is doing, but he’s on the castle somewhere. Probably.”

At the mention of Lotor, everyone’s face goes ashen, playful atmosphere completely dissipating.

“Fuck,” Keith says.

Pidge, ever the problem-solver, looks resigned. “It’s Lotor, isn’t it,” she says, and it’s not really a question.

“Yes,” Romelle agrees softly. “He’s a monster. He’s using my people as batteries, to drain our quintessence, to rule worse than his father ever did.”

“And we’ve just led him by the hand to the one place that will make him unstoppable,” Pidge summarizes, looking absolutely miserable.

“Unfortunately.”

“I don’t suppose you have a plan?”

“We don’t…not have a plan,” Keith says. “We’ll have the element of surprise, so long as we get back to the castle before he does, and that’s got to count for something. We’ll send you our coords, and we’ll try to meet as quickly as possible? It might be easier to plan with the whole team present.”

“Sounds good,” Pidge says, immediately pulling up a few dozen screens and schematics. Krolia quickly types something on her keypad, and Keith watches as it pings over to Pidge. “Oh, hey, we’re actually not that far away. Maybe a couple hours, if we gun it towards you? And Allura – God, I hope she’s okay – won’t be back until the end of the day, so that timing works out. I’ll tell Coran we need to get moving and fast.”

“Thank you, Pidge,” Krolia says.

“No problem, Ms. Keith’s Hot Mom.”

Keith sighs. Romelle giggles. Krolia looks amused.

“I forgot how annoying you are,” he mutters. He doesn’t need to look to know Pidge is sticking her tongue out at him, but looks anyway, just to prove himself right.

“Well, I look forward to reminding you, booger-brain.”

Keith opens his mouth with the full intention of calling her a roach-face, but then remembers that he is a Mature Adult, and decides he will instead graffitti it on her workspace as soon as he gets back, like a real man.

“Bye, Pidge,” he says, and reaches forward to swipe through the holoscreen.

“Hey, wait! Don’t hang up yet!”

Keith pauses, looking at her expectantly. “Yeah?”

The playful, teasing expression that came back for a moment when they were arguing has melted from her face, and she looks serious again. Nervous, even. “Um, something… happened, while you were gone,” she starts, and Keith immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion.

“What happened to Lance? Is he okay? Is he hurt?” he asks in a panic.

“He is not dead and also not injured or maimed or anything,” Pidge says, which is very different to ‘why, of course not, Keith, Lance is safe and happy and healthy’.

“Spit it out, Pidge,” he orders in his Patented Black Paladin Voice.

“I can’t really explain it. I’m just gonna – I’m gonna send you a link, and you’re going to watch the whole thing and not tell Lance I sent it to you, okay?”

Keith swallows roughly. “Just tell me what happened, Pidge.”

“Okay, Keith?” she repeats, and Keith knows he’s not going to get anything else out of her.

“Okay. Fine. Send it to me.”

“It’s sent,” she says, just as a notification pops up on the receiver. “Um, you can hang up now. That’s all I had to say.”

Keith doesn’t even say goodbye. The only thing he can focus on is that receiver. In the background, he can vaguely hear Romelle and Krolia ending the call, but all his attention is on the little notification – a link, like Pidge said. He picks the receiver up carefully, and walks carefully over to his bunk in the back.

“I guess I’m driving!” Romelle says cheerily, trying to goad him into a playful argument (her… interesting piloting skills having been the subject of their bickering on numerous occasions) but Keith barely even hears her. He clicks on the link, space youtube quickly taking up the screen.

In hindsight, Keith wishes he’d waited to watch, waited for Krolia and Romelle to fall asleep, or even dug around for a pair of headphones, or something. Anything instead of playing what feels like a private message – even though this is clearly something that was broadcasted to the universe at large – to the pod at large.

Hindsight is 20/20.

Instead, he watches with wide, horrified eyes as he witnesses the direct result his leaving had on his best friend.

I'm sorry but I gotta go

That’s what he said to me, as he let me go, he left me alone

Keith recognises those words. He fucking – those are his words. The thing is – the thing is, that contrary to what he knows everyone else thinks, Keith didn’t leave for the Blades after a few days of private introspection.

He talked to Lance – to his right hand – about the issue for months. They made the decision together. Lance knew every feeling, every need running through Keith’s brain, and consequently, Keith knew every thoughtrunning through Lance’s.

[liamlawsonlesbian]

jo liamlawsonlesbian's f1 fics

because I didn't join f1blr until several months after I started writing f1 fic, I thought I would make a masterlist of what I've written for this fandom thus far

(why now? because I'm procrastinating, of course)

In the order I wrote them:

when we're cheek to cheek (i feel it in my teeth): Max Verstappen has become a little obsessed with Charles Leclerc's neck. The day after Monaco 2023, Max and Charles go for a drive. - lestappen, 1.8k, rated M.

baby, why don't you come over?: Max sends Charles a drunken booty call, even though they're just friends. The next day, when they're sober, Charles calls his bluff. - lestappen, 3.4k, rated E

maybe the sky might not always be blue: Once upon a time, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc were on a short-lived Disney Channel show together, and Max had a crush on Charles. Now, they're successful adult actors, and Charles is cast as Max's love interest in a movie. - lestappen, 8.8k, rated T

powerful, with a little bit of tender: Pierre wants to make Yuki feel good. - yukierre, 2.1k, rated E

"Lance Moi" (n): Deux Moi but Good, Actually: Frustrated with the unseriousness of Deux Moi, Lance starts an F1 gossip account. (Saw Leclerc in Monaco - Anon pls). - lance & everyone, 3.5k, rated G

canine teeth in the side of my neck: Charles starts biting Max when Max wins races. Max might spiral, a bit. (alt-2024 season) - lestappen, 7.2k, rated E

would have loved you (in a day or two): Yuki tells Pierre that in another universe, they're in love. Pierre can't stop thinking about Other Pierre and Yuki. - yukierre, 2.2k, rated E

no such friend: Charles is in his head, and asks Max to fuck him out of it. It goes differently than he expects. - lestappen, 2.9k, rated E

i can feel the sun on you: Charles is a prince under pressure. Alex is an aspiring novelist trying to make ends meet. They find each other in Buenos Aires. (Chalex Roman Holiday AU). - chalex, 12k, rated T

i don't wanna miss you tonight: Before the Las Vegas Grand Prix, Fernando sends Max a tiktok compilation highlighting how comfortable Charles is touching Max. Max can't stop thinking about it. - lestappen, 1.8k, rated T

are you down? (can you let me know): Oscar doesn't want to feel like a rookie anymore. He decides to fuck Fernando Alonso about it. - oscar/fernando, 2.5k, rated E

you don't have to know that it's haunted: Charles is a witch. Max finds out. - lestappen, 8.3k, rated T

still high (with a little feeling): Lando has a revelation about himself. Yuki helps him out. - tsando, 4.4k, rated T

grow the apple, keep all the seeds: Nico Rosberg, second ever female WDC, visits Charles the day before her first grand prix weekend. - rule 63 charles/nico, 2k, rated E

[secretlystephaniebrown]

I don't give baby Steph that much credit but I do think it's funny that when I was in my OC phase and writing for Teen Titans I went "hey! it's not fair no one ships Cyborg with anyone! I'm going to make him a girlfriend!"

[vodid]

oh the urge to take this extremely obscure term and run away with it to slap on a blitzbee fic...