Get those boys OUT of "The Blender" Klance Fic Rec List
I love Whump fics as much as the next tumblrina but at a certain point I GET A STOMACHE ACHE and I need to see Keith and Lance in love and happy. Here are my favorite, low stakes, happy ending Klance recs...
☾ my kink is watching you by ShatteringSeconds (4k)
five times Lance “accidentally” kisses Keith and the one time Keith kisses Lance on purpose. Keith and Lance will turn anything, I mean ANYTHING into a competition. I love how they are written... stupid boys, I smiled the whole time reading this.
☾ tell me again, do you love me? by Hiuythn (6.2k)
Because of alien bullshit Lance has to confess his feelings for Keith to the team. As Keith figures out how he feels about this Chaos ensues. WHATEVER MAKES ME CRAZY!!!! Lance is the most boy of all time.
☾ you don't wanna be alone by ghostcribs (4.2k)
SIC FIC MOTHERFUCKERS! Keith refuses to accept help, and lance is the best!!!
☾ and you kiss me like it's all coming true by happycino (6.3k)
Klance Knight/Prince AU but Lance is the knight and a general menace to Keith.
☾ i'm riding higher than the sky and there is fire in every kiss by nikkiRA (8.9k)
What if you and ur friends were looking for a 4th roommate and your friend brings home your RIVAL. genuinely some of my favorite writing PERIOD. NikkiRA never misses. Lance is a fucking little shit and Keith can't help but rise to the occasion.
☾ electromagnetic by seabear (25k)
The team plans a heist to steal a fancy plate... If YOU ONLY READ 1 OF THESE READ THIS!!!! oh my goddddd maybe top 10 Klance fics. The writing is impeccable, the characterization is great, I love pidge, and Lance is an ENIGMA!!!
I hope you love these as much as I do! I'll keep making these rec lists, feel free to request a specific theme!
A/N: I wrote Oikawa riding reader's thigh/tummy. Good luck. MDNI.
Warnings: NSFW, thigh riding, under-negotiated (light) choking (not really but just in case), Oikawa has a praise kink (shocker). I wrote hurt/comfort's weird, adopted cousin: fluff/smut. I'm not saying I'm good at writing smut, I'm saying this was necessary.
Word count: 2.300-ish
He's cocky.
In the beginning, it is plenty annoying. Even so, it takes no rocket science to call Oikawa Tooru's cockiness for what it really is: a fat front. Sure, the cockiness adds to the flirtatious pestering that eventually turns somewhat adorable. Additionally, it makes it easier to set some much needed boundaries; you've been through enough shit at the hands of inessential men and you do not need another arrogant bastard texting you at two am. Instead, his cockiness inspires you to be just as fiery: you make him work for it.
The thing about the mirage of Tooru's hubris, is that it ripples. Late summer night walks involving strawberry ice cream and stories about him teaching his nephew how to ride a bicycle splinter his resolve to continuously come across as a dickhead. By winter, he's beaming at you more than he's sneering, and his fingertips slide home to linger on the inside of your wrist, witnessing the flutter of your pulse when he asks to make things official.
He's fragile.
Once the illusion of his arrogance is chipped away, Tooru's emotions are laid bare. You're not sure which is more chilling: him constantly pretending to be something he's not, or him finally being emotionally communicative. The floodgates are opened; the once pompous monologues are replaced by the volleyball player gently prompting you to tell him about anything and everything that makes you feel.
This does involve two am texts; not the "you up" type of messages, but rather of the "talk to me, sweetheart" sort; the "thank you for telling me that, love" type. It involves him driving over in the middle of the night because a volleyball game didn't pan out the way he had hoped, and the disappointment and fear of failure weighs too heavy for him to fall asleep. It comprises his tears soaking through your shirt as he clings to you in bed, head resting on your stomach as he recounts the way Iwaizumi's volleyball career may be at its end after a particularly nasty fall during finals. The first time you wake up to soft, grateful, loving kisses being pressed to your face, it makes your heart clench, too. Caring for Tooru turns out to be one of the easiest, most rewarding things to do.
He's sexy.
It's one thing for him to have cockiness under his belt - if you'll be so kind to excuse the pun. Combined with the fragility that comes with emotional communication, however, it makes him a menace to deal with when he's horny. It starts with playful banter between the sheets, with teeth sinking into soft skin and teasing words that inspire the arching of your back, and tends to end in a mess so grand that it inspires a deep cleaning of the entire bedroom.
It's interesting, though, because apparently he takes it just as well as he dishes it out. Last time, it ended with him shaking underneath you as you rode him to completion, his fingers digging into your thighs as he begged you for — you're not entirely sure what, exactly. It was over before you could properly find out. The desperation in his voice did, however, unlock something.
It's been on your mind ever since. And, really, it makes sense, doesn't it? His cockiness as a front for fragility, his arrogance both on the court and in his daily life that serves as a smoke screen for the need to be taken care of? Oikawa Tooru needs, and while he is not afraid to speak, he is sometimes afraid to ask.
There's only one way to figure it out, you decide. When the entire day is filled with flirtatious texts and suggestive innuendo slips into the conversation during his lunch break phone call, you reckon there's no time like the present.
He gets to your place sometime after dinner. You hear rather than see him hang his coat as he babbles on about his afternoon the second he steps into your apartment, amusement and exhaustion equal parts present in his tone. Your gaze softens at the sight of him, and his words die on the tip of his tongue when he rounds the corner and spots you sitting on the couch, wearing one of his spare volleyball jerseys.
"Oh, that type of evening, huh?" he grins.
You cock an eyebrow and purse your lips slightly, refusing to answer him while also refusing to break eye contact.
He seems confused, unsure why the banter isn't being reciprocated. His eyes flash with something that looks like vulnerability.
"Wait, am I in trouble? I know I didn't text before coming here, but I—"
You cut him off with a simple smile, not wanting him to misunderstand. You watch as his eyelashes flutter prettily. Something seems to click.
"Are you being coy with me?" he asks, his tongue digging low into the flesh on the inside of his bottom lip, calculating.
This does spur you on. "What, did you think you're the only one who's allowed to play with their food?" you murmur.
He clicks the tip of his tongue against his teeth and heaves out a soft sigh.
"Okay," he nods, "I'll bite. How you do you want me?" He spreads his arms, playfully presenting himself.
You tilt your head in his general direction and grin, "I don't want you to be wearing all that, for starters."
Both of his eyebrows figuratively somersault towards his hairline, then, almost seeming impressed at how forward you're being about this. He raises his hands in comical defeat and starts swaying his hips from left to right in some mock-theatre start of a striptease. None of that, you decide.
"Strip down, sweetheart," you prompt.
He freezes mid-sway and almost pouts at being denied the opportunity to be whimsical, narrowing his eyes at you as he roughly pulls off his shirt and haphazardly flings it to the side instead. You reward him with a sweet smile and an encouraging nod. This seems to pacify him enough to shove out of his jeans.
He's pretty.
He's so pretty, when he wants to be. When he's standing there in front of you, hair tousled after taking off his shirt, bare save for the powder blue, cotton boxer shorts, he is the epitome of pretty.
"Happy?" he quips.
You ignore him and let your eyes take in all the exposed skin he's presented you with. What a privilege it is, to know how soft it really is.
When he realises you don't intend to answer him, he hooks a thumb into the waistband of his shorts. "Want me to take this off, too?"
You grin, then.
"No," you decide, "you get to keep that on, actually."
You watch as a shiver runs through him. The situation continues to stun him out of his usual cockiness. Vulnerability sets in further, and it keeps him uncharacteristically obedient as he waits for you to finish appraising him.
You sink back against the couch cushions and reach out a hand, inviting him into your lap.
His eyes widen. A breath stutters out of his chest. Tooru swallows, and then he takes a step forward. One knee dips into the cushions below you as he takes your hand, his eyes bigger than you've ever seen them. His other knee lands on the other side of you and then he's scooting forward, effectively straddling your lap. You guide his hands to your shoulders and slide your own up his arms and down his sides, coming to rest on his waist.
There's never been a single moment when the roles have been this reversed. Usually, Tooru is pretty much in charge yet appreciative of your fiery back-and-forth between the sheets, but it's never, ever been like this. The novelty of it all is written all over his face as you tilt your chin up to press a soft kiss to the side of his jaw, right below his ear.
"Is this okay, sweetheart?" you whisper.
His hands shake in their place on your shoulders, thumbs pressing into your skin as if it's his only tether to reality. Tooru's wide eyes seem to search yours as you look up at him with devotion and curiosity, his gaze softening before he offers you a timid grin.
"I'm— yes," he nods, "I'm good. I'm not sure what's happening, but—" he trails off.
Your hands gently make their way down to his thighs, fingertips exploring the soft skin underneath the hem of his shorts as you push them up and under the fabric. There's an almost sick sort of satisfaction that coils in your tummy at the way his cock stirs beneath the cotton.
"But— you like it?" you finish the sentence for him, fingertips digging into the toned muscle of his thighs as your lips press soft kisses to his neck, tongue laving at the base of it. "Let me take care of you, love," you mutter, smiling. He seems to barely keep up, eyes slowly glazing over as he nods. His own hands find purchase under your shirt, starting to softly rub at the skin of your waist. He's always had a thing for your tummy. Whether he's soothing you or himself at this point, you're not entirely sure. His shoulders relax, though, his chest rising and falling with soft yet shallow breaths.
You pull your fingers from his shorts and slide them back, keeping your eyes fixed on his expression as you smooth your hands across his buttocks, tight and thick from years of volleyball performances. The dig of your nails into his clothed cheeks has him groaning in surprise, the sound being pulled from his chest accompanied by him reflexively shoving his hips forward and resulting in the friction of his clothed cock against your thighs and tummy.
His eyelids flutter and his fingertips tighten their hold on your skin as he seems to catch his breath a little.
"Shit— sorry, I—"
"No," you shake your head, "Don't apologise, sweetheart. Feels good, hmm?"
Something in his brain seems to short-circuit. He nods.
"I know," you almost coo at him, kneading into the muscle of his ass cheeks, encouraging the way his hips twitch forward again. "Keep going," you nod, "Go on, honey."
He takes a second too long to register the words, but when he does, his eyes flutter closed and he relaxes, letting his head tilt back. Tentatively, he starts rutting against you, his thighs working overtime to ride your thigh and rub the sensitive head of his clothed cock against your tummy, slowly forming wet patch at the front of his shorts.
Your breathing picks up at the sight of how his throat strains when Tooru feels one of your hands trails up his spine and holds him steady where it comes to rest between his shoulder blades.
So pretty, you find yourself thinking. Only, when you notice the way his eyes open wide and he keens into the warm air of the otherwise peaceful apartment, shoving his hips forward a little faster, you realise you've said the words out loud.
"Oh fuck—", he groans, gripping your waist like he's scared to float away if he doesn't.
"Is that it?" you whisper, "Do you like that, sweetheart?"
It earns you a breathy whimper.
The hand that's on his spine slowly makes its way down his ribs and his waist, exploring the skin of his tummy, sternum, and chest. By the time your fingers gently slide across Tooru's throat, he's moaning with almost every other thrust, his cotton shorts ruined and your own tummy covered in a wet sheen from where his cock has been rubbing up against you.
He seems to register the way your fingers gently slide across his throat and leans his head forward again, panting against your lips as he presses his forehead against yours. He's a sight to be seen.
"My pretty baby," you smile, your chest feeling like it's about to burst with fondness.
Tooru's lips part, grazing against yours, so you lick into his mouth messily, swallowing his next moan when you tighten your fingers around his throat ever so slightly - not enough to cut off blood flow, but enough for him to feel it.
Your reward is the way his hips rut against you with reckless abandon, then, and you feel him pull away from the kiss to gasp, forehead finding purchase on your shoulder. You let go of his throat and bury your fingers into your hair, nails grazing across his scalp.
"You're doing so well, sweetheart, I'm so proud of you," you coo.
Tooru's hands shake where they're clinging onto you, and you hear him start to plead, the sound so reminiscent of the moment that inspired today.
"Please," he moans, desperate, "Please, please, I—," again, he doesn't get much further than that. He doesn't need to. You understand what he's asking for.
With a gentle nod, you rest your cheek against the side of his head.
"Go ahead, baby," you encourage him, "Give me everything."
He comes in his shorts with a loud shout, hips stuttering against your tummy as his teeth sink into your shoulder.
You cling to him, then, keeping him secure in your arms as he rides through the waves of his orgasm and eventually slumps down against you, curled into your chest.
It takes several minutes of rubbing his back, whispering sweet nothings to him and and pressing kisses to his hair until he's fully there again.
"What the fuck was that?" he groans through a chuckle as he sits up and rubs at his face.
You grin back at him, cocky, because he's not the only one allowed to be a smug bastard from time to time.
my only addition to the proliferation of pride flags is that honestly someone should just start making pride flags that are for the most part inoffensive but then like give the meanings of the stripes like absurdly controversial microcommunity discourse. like "here's my pride flag - the stripes represent all the different types of attraction in the split attraction model, the maroon represents that bisexuality represents being attracted to the two binary genders, the green stands for lesbian bed death, and the stars represent the amount of hypervisibility that trans women use to take up all the space and oppress afab trans people via invisibility and the labrys represents lesbians who are into men (cis men only, obviously). nothing it in represents gay men because they are not oppressed" creating perhaps the most hated object in the queer community and uniting us all
okay wow. spread this like wildfire for the people in the back or else you dont care about our community, why is nobody talking about this. the discoursegender flag
Obviously Velma sucks but if we do ever make a more adult Scooby Doo I want a semi realistic period piece from the late 60s where the Scooby Gang are draft dodgers and hippies that just happen to stumble into the crime fighting business because there is just a fresh stream of con artists when you’re drifting town to town in a van.
Freddie and Daphne start it all. Instead of showing up at boot camp when drafted, Fred Jones got the van he bought with his summer job and ran off. Daphne, his girlfriend (who frankly has the least strong feelings about Vietnam but for gods sake are they not taking Freddie there) runs along to be supportive and to get away from her strict, stuffy family.
Velma catches wind of Fred and Daphne’s plan a few days before it happens. They invite her along but she has to consider it. A staunch feminist and the brightest girl in school, she has the most to lose if she leaves. However, she grows embittered by the fact she’s never gonna get into her dream college since it doesn’t admit women, and decides to go along. Besides, if Fred and Daphne leave without her, there won’t be anyone like minded in their hometown for Velma to be friends with.
Shaggy wasn’t originally part of the group, but they find him and Scooby hitchhiking and pick him up. The gang learn he has similar circumstances to Fred for running away from home, being a conscientious objector who ran off when they tried to put him in a non combative position instead. He opposed even this as it still meant he would be part of the war machine. He comes bearing plenty of 8 track tapes and some real good pot, so he’s welcomed along happily.
Along the way they become friends and use their combined skills to solve cases of supposed hauntings. Every single one is shown to be some kind of capitalist fraud.
“when you choose a partner in life and you, y’know, choose to spend your life
with them, inevitably one of you is gonna have the worst time of your life when
the other one dies. i know it sounds really sad but to me it’s beautiful.”
Digital illustration of an older Black fem. They are striking a pose with their hands framing their face. They have a green hair scarf, thick black frame glasses with a dangling chain and are wearing a oversized rainbow wrap sweater. There’s text that reads, ‘it’s never too late to come out.’
anyway. cherish your queer self. admire your beautiful queer face. gloat about your ever-growing queer vocabulary. find similarity in your differences with your peers and think of them in awe. make a queer smile today, and let them make you smile too. bask in your queerness. let queer joy unapologetically wash over you. even if just for a moment. heal.
snowghoul
germansingergirl
tangentwithtanner
titsay
pixelskylines
gracieabrams
theartofmadeline
