#Just thinking back on this fandom these days shh

[terresdebrume]

Listen

I realize that based on the bombs and the forgery and everything, DND PC!Booker would make more sense as some kind of rogue/artificer multiclass

But I just like the idea of Druid!Booker turning into a literal bear and bulldozing the enemy because whatever works

(Nicky is probably a Paladin/Fighter mix of some sort, Joe is either a War college Bard or a Bard/Fighter mix, Andy definitely has a few levels in Barbarian but has cold rages...and idk, I think Nile would do well as a Battle Master/Paladin of some sort)

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :STITCHES: :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff (And angst)

 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Grumpy Logan, Mentions of blood, mentions of stitches, Established Relationship, (i haven’t proof read yet!)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When a very injured Logan stumbles into the X-Mansion, his healing ability failing him, it’s upon you to make sure you save his life.

YOU WERE SITTING ON THE SOFA WHEN LOGAN STUMBLED INTO THE X MEN MANSION, CLUTCHING HIS LEFT SIDE AS BLOOD WAS SEEPING THROUGH HIS SUIT.

“Logan what the fuck? Are you okay?” You immediately asked when he entered the living room area, holding onto the wall for support.

“Yes i’m fine sweetheart, nothing to worry about, my healing is just taking a little longer i suppose.” Logan grunted while looking down at his side.

“This is the fifth time this is happening Logan…” You sighed as you stood up and went over to your man.

“I know…i don’t know what’s wrong with me, i should let Xavier and Jean have another look.” Logan muttered as he tried his best to look at you while maintaining his balance.

“Here let me help you.” You offered before wrapping one of Logan’s arms around your shoulders. “Darling i’m fine, i just need a moment.” Logan tried to stop you but to no avail.

“Lean onto me.” You said while helping Logan move towards the dinner table. “Baby…” Logan sighed but you immediately shut him up by saying “shh”

Logan rolled his eyes at your attitude, but secretly he was really loving the fact you were so worried about him.

“Here sit down.” You motioned to the table and helped Logan onto it. “Thank you.” Breathed Logan while trying his best not to think about all the blood that was coming out of his injury.

“You will have to take the suit off.” You said while moving closer so you could stand between Logan’s legs.

“Okay just give me a moment.” Logan muttered while trying to remove his suit with the hand that wasn’t covering his injury.

“Need help?” You offered while watching him struggle with removing the suit. Logan shook his head. “No i’m fine, it just takes some time.” He mumbled while trying his best to undo his suit.

It was very painful to see Logan struggle so much. Especially when nobody knew what was going on. Just out of nowhere, Logan’s healing ability disappeared. Or well it decreased. It took much longer for him to heal now and it kept getting worse each time he went on a mission.

“Here let me Lo.” You said softly before gently moving his hand away. Logan just looked at you and watched how you unzipped his suit. “I’m sorry if this hurts.” You said before carefully pulling the suit down his shoulders until it was on his lower hips.

“Oh fuck…” You breathed while staring at the awfully big wound on the left side of Logan’s stomach.

“Baby it just needs some more time than usual, it will heal.” Logan tried again. But you didn’t listen to him.

“Oh yeah? How much do you need this time? 5 hours? 10 hours? One day? Two days? A week?” You scoffed while carefully placing your hands on Logan’s stomach to inspect the injury on a closer level.

You weren’t mad at Logan. Even if it seemed so. You were just worried about him. What if his injury wouldn’t heal itself this time? What if his healing ability was actually really gone now? You couldn’t just wait for Logan’s body to start healing. Not if you and Logan weren’t sure when it would even begin.

“We have to get you downstairs to the lab before you bleed to death.” You said while taking a few steps back from his injury.

“Baby i swear it will heal, just give me more time and i am su-“

“You don’t have any more time! What if it doesn’t heal mhm? We can’t just wait and hope it will start healing when in fact you could just be bleeding to death!” You yelled, getting frustrated at Logan for being so nonchalant about the whole situation.

Logan just stared at you while you looked down at your feet. “I can’t lose you Logan. I can’t. So please just do as i say, so i can help you. Please.” You spoke quietly while still avoiding eye contact.

It was quiet for some time. That was until Wade entered the living room area with a bucket of popcorn.

“What the fuck is going on here?” He asked as he grabbed a hand full of popcorn and shoved it up his mouth.

You quickly turned around and sighed. “Logan’s healing ability isn’t working.”

Wade nodded and turned to look at Logan. “Wow buddy i’m so sorry to hear that…good luck!” He said before turning around again, wanting to leave the room.

“Fuck you.” Muttered Logan under his breath.

“Wade!” You yelled. You watched how Wade turned around once again to face you. “Yes sweets?” He asked.

“We have to get him downstairs so i can treat his injury. Will you help me?” You asked with the best smile you could put on.

“Mhm…” Wade thought while putting the popcorn bucket on the small coffee table.

“Just say yes or no man.” Logan sighed in annoyance. Wade began tapping his finger against his chin before finally nodding. “Fine. But i’m doing it for you sweets, not for the grumpy old man over there.” He told you while motioning for Logan.

“That’s fine.” Logan said while rolling his eyes.

You and Wade both went over to Logan and each stood on one of his sides. You both carefully put Logan’s arms around your shoulders and started your small journey to the basement.

“Man you are heavy!” Wade exclaimed while looking at Logan. “You better shut your mouth before i shut it for you.” Logan said through gritted teeth.

“Guys can we just…” You sighed while shaking your head in annoyance.

“Fine! Whatever she says, right?” Wade smirked while looking at Logan once again.

Logan decided to just ignore it for his, and also Wades sanity.

Soon the three of you arrived in the basement and helped Logan onto a bed, before Wade went back upstairs to get back to eating his popcorn.

Logan watched how you started pacing around the room, hands in your hair while trying to think how to take care of his injury.

“Sweetheart…” Logan sighed softly while trying his best to hide his pain. You looked up at Logan and he gave you a smile.

“Just do whatever feels best okay? I trust you. And i apologize for acting the way i did upstairs. I think i’m just afraid and angry about the fact that my healing ability is actually slowly vanishing.” Logan spoke quietly.

Your lips curled up into a small smile while nodding. “It’s okay Lo. I know it’s scary what is happening right now, and i am sure that somehow we will find a solution, but for now just let me take care of you.”

“Sounds good to me.” Logan half chuckled half winced as he clutched his side again.

“Okay let’s hurry up shall we?” You said while getting into action. You first went to the other side of the room to grab a cart with everything in it you needed for this mission.

You pushed it into Logan’s direction, opened the first drawer and pulled out an alcohol liquid bottle to clean the wound before doing anything else.

“I am just going to pour it on your wound because it’s a pretty big injury, okay?” You announced while looking at Logan for approval.

“Do you what you have to do bub.” Logan said while watching how you took the cap off the bottle.

“Okay here we go…” You said anxiously, pouring the liquid over Logan’s left side.

“Fuck!” Groaned Logan as he balled his fists and threw his head back in pain, trying his best not to scream or yell. “I am so sorry! I’m almost done.” You said immediately.

Five seconds passed and you were done with cleaning the wound. Now it was just a very big open cut which covered almost the whole left side of Logan’s torso.

“Well…I am pretty sure you still have some healing ability left in you, because otherwise you would be dead for sure.” You said, trying to light up the mood for both you and Logan.

Logan just stared at you for a moment until he started shaking his head, letting out a breathy laugh. “You sure know how to lighten the mood, baby.”

“I’m sorry.” You laughed while grabbing the stitch supplies. “Are you going to stitch me up?” Asked Logan while looking at your hands.

“I’ll have to yes.” You said with an apologetic look on your face. Logan just smiled and nodded. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

You smiled upon hearing Logan’s words and inched closer to his cut.

“Are you ready?” You asked quietly.

“I was born ready.” Logan smirked, giving you the start sign.

~

“And i’m done!” You sighed happily as you finished up the last stitch. “You did great sweetheart. Thank you.” Logan smiled while cupping your cheek.

“You don’t have to thank me Logan.” You chuckled while starting to clean up the whole mess.

“Hey come here.” Logan said while gently grabbing hold of your arm. You looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile upon seeing him looking already much better now the wound is taken care of.

“I am really grateful for what you did honey. You always take such good care of me, even when i’m acting like a complete idiot.” Logan grinned.

“I’m used to it.” You shrugged with a slight smirk. “Oh i know you are.” Smiled Logan before pulling you into a careful hug, not wanting to cause anymore pain to his now stitched up wound.

“I love you sweetheart.” Whispered Logan into your ear before burying his head in the crook of your head. “I love you too Logan.” You breathed against his chest.

“Want to head upstairs? I really should change my clothes and maybe we can lay down for a bit after?” Logan offered while still having his face buried in your neck.

“Sounds like a plan.” You smiled before taking two steps back. You offered Logan your arm for support and together the two of you went upstairs, heading straight for Logan’s room to finally be able to relax after saving his life.

[sunsburns]

the great gig in the sky

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x reader

summary: you had come to the library with only one thing in mind; to finish your final paper for class. but then there's this cute forgein lawyer asking you for help finding a book, and you think you're hitting it off with this guy but then the next thing you know, the world is ending.

—or: the world ends when you least expect it

word count: 2.3k+

contains: fluff (at first), angst, horror implications, alien invasion, the-end-of-the-world kind of scenario, blood, graphic gore & violence, mentions of death, death, a lot of angst lol

author’s note: one thing about me is that i love a good old angsty apocalyptic fic (this is coming from my wattpad days and my stranger things fics on there). i wanted to see if i still had the hang of writing horror and i think i've still got it! just a bit out of practice i guess. but anyway, this fic is for the small quiet place fandom! i see you guys! enjoyy

DAY ONE

The library is one of the few places in New York City where you can find a semblance of peace. In a city that never slept, with its constant cacophony of sounds and vibrant atmosphere, the library offers a stark contrast. It’s a sanctuary where time seems to slow, where the world is reduced to the soft rustling of pages, the gentle thuds of footsteps on hardwood floors, and the muted whispers between friends and peers, occasionally punctuated by the sharp "shh!" from the librarian.

You lean back in your chair, your laptop open in front of you with a half-finished report on the screen. Textbooks lay scattered across the table, pages open to the sections that cover your syllabus. You remove your glasses and rub your temples, tilting your head back to gaze at the grand ceiling of the library.

The smell of aged wood and parchment fills the air, a comforting scent that evokes a sense of calm. The high ceilings elevate the space, easing the claustrophobia you often feel in your cramped dorm room or crowded cafes.

Sunlight streams through the tall, arched Victorian-style windows, casting warm, golden beams that chase away the usual aura of stress associated with studying.

After about an hour with your earphones in, a movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. You jump slightly and glance up from your book to meet a pair of warm, brown eyes. The man standing before you looks a bit anxious, shuffling his feet nervously.

You take out an earphone and look at him questioningly, recognizing him vaguely from one of your classes.

"Hi, uh, sorry," he whispers just loud enough for you to hear, "Do you know where the Crimes and Investigations section is? I tried asking the librarian, but I think she hates me."

His accent, foreign and charming, catches your ear, and you find his awkward smile endearing. He stands in front of your wooden desk, slouching slightly to your level. Up close, you notice the faint stubble on his face and the soft, dark brown of his eyes, reminiscent of oak bark.

"Yeah, it's in the west wing, I think," you whisper back, offering a friendly smile. His curly brown hair is slightly messy, likely tousled by the wind outside.

"Uh," he hesitates, "What wing are we at exactly?"

He looks genuinely clueless and anxious, his brown suit neatly pressed, and his blue tie impeccably straight, giving him a professional yet approachable appearance.

"We're actually at the center court, but I can show you where it is if you’d like?" you offer, feeling an unexpected blush creep up your cheeks. You silently chide yourself; you really need to go out more. You wonder briefly if your friends are still planning on heading to a club this weekend.

A look of relief washes over his face, making him grin. "That'd be really great."

You shut your laptop and stand up.

"Are you okay with leaving your things?" he asks, moving around the table to stand next to you.

You snort, "Please, I doubt there are people in the library with a knack for stealing things. One thing New Yorkers won't steal are books."

"I don't know, I heard college books are getting pretty expensive these days," he says, a hint of humour in his voice that makes you smile.

"Come on, I'll show you," you say, motioning for him to follow you.

As you lead the way toward the other side of the large library, you head toward the tall bookshelves that stand like dominoes. Through the muffling of the windows, you can hear the distant wail of sirens from ambulances and fire trucks, the honking of cars—sounds of the city that usually blend into the background but seem more persistent today.

"You're a lawyer?" you ask, making conversation as you walk.

"Working on it," he replies. "I'm still attending school. I think you're in one of my psych classes, though."

You beam, realizing that was where you remember him from. "Yes, I remember now. Are you taking it as an elective or something?"

"Yeah, sure, something like that."

"And how's American going for you?"

"Not what I imagined, honestly," he admits with a pout. "Don't get me wrong, the teachers are great and all but—"

"The students suck ass, right?" you interject with a smirk. "Yeah, we're pieces of shit here in the States."

He laughs, a rich sound that makes your stomach flutter. "No, I wouldn't say that. I mean, you seem pretty nice."

You feel your face heat up at the compliment, your heart racing. You want to smack yourself with a book; all this guy did was call you nice, and here you are blushing.

You slow down as you approach the section, walking between two bookshelves. There aren't many people in this area, but the sunlight glows into the space through the massive windows, illuminating the lined books. Some are old and dust-covered, inviting you to run your fingers along their spines, the dust clearing off and leaving a grey stain on your finger.

"Anyway, you have a specific book you're looking for?" you inquire.

He opens his mouth to answer, probably something smart and a book you've never heard of before, but your saving grace is the sudden rush of footsteps. People in the library are clamouring toward the windows, the usual calm shattered by a sense of urgency.

Someone runs between the both of you, knocking against your shoulder and making you stumble. You trip over your own feet until the guy in front of you reaches out, his hands steadying you. You thank him briefly before turning to the person who ran into you, "Hey, watch it—"

"Look!"

He's pointing at the window.

You both notice the uproar of people crowding closer, drawn by an unusual sight. From the window, you see that the world outside has nearly come to a halt. Cars are pulled over haphazardly, their doors flung open, and drivers and passengers alike are standing on the sidewalks, staring upwards. Street vendors have abandoned their carts, and pedestrians are frozen mid-stride, all eyes turned to the sky.

You rush to the window and press your hands against the cool glass, gazing out in disbelief. The sky is filled with what looks like falling stars, bright and burning, hundreds of them streaking through the atmosphere with alarming speed. Their fiery trails paint the sky with a chaotic tapestry of light and smoke, plummeting fast into the islands of New York.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, the vibration startling you. The piercing sound of the emergency broadcast alert follows, echoing through the library. Your heart sinks into your stomach as you see one of the falling stars crash into a building just blocks away.

The impact sends up a plume of fire and debris, leaving a fiery trail of destruction in its wake. You watch in horror as the building crumbles, a section collapsing in on itself, and the surrounding area is engulfed in flames.

You jump back from the window, stumbling as you try to process what you’re seeing. The people outside are no longer standing still. Panic has set in. They're running, shouting, seeking shelter wherever they can find it.

As you turn, you crash into the arms of the guy from earlier. His face is ashen, all colour drained as he stares out the window in terror. His eyes are wide, reflecting the fiery spectacle outside. You can see the muscles in his jaw clench as he struggles to comprehend the magnitude of what’s happening.

You move around him, your movements hurried and unsteady. Your mind races, a single thought cutting through the fog of fear: get the hell out of here and go home.

Your breaths come in short, panicked gasps. Around you, the library descends into chaos. People scream, their voices a cacophony of terror. The building is now a hive of frantic energy as others rush inside, seeking refuge from the outside.

The ground beneath your feet trembles violently, the walls groaning under the strain. The windows shatter with explosive force, glass shards spraying like deadly confetti.

You instinctively hold your hands over your head, ducking as one of the fiery objects crashes into the building with a deafening roar. The impact throws you off your feet, the world tilting crazily. Bookshelves topple like dominoes, their heavy wooden frames crashing to the ground and sending a shower of books and debris into the air.

You're thrown to the ground, landing hard. Pain explodes through your body, sharp and unrelenting. Your vision blurs, dark spots dancing at the edges of your sight. The air is thick with dust and smoke, choking you, making each breath a struggle. You cough violently, the acrid taste of ash filling your mouth.

You try to move, but every attempt sends a new wave of pain shooting through your limbs. The world around you starts to fade, the edges of your consciousness fraying as darkness creeps in. Just before you succumb, the last thing you hear is the distant, terrifying roar of something monstrous.

When you come to, the library is unrecognizable. The once grand ceiling is partially collapsed, with jagged pieces of wood and plaster hanging precariously above. The air is heavy with the smell of burning paper and wood, a thick, suffocating haze. Your head throbs with a relentless, pounding pain, and as you push yourself up, a horrifying sight meets your eyes.

Few mangled bodies lie around you, some partially buried under rubble, others sprawled in unnatural positions. Blood soaks into ash, coating whatever it touches. Panic surges through you, a cold, paralyzing fear that grips your heart and refuses to let go. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a physical force.

You hear someone scream, a desperate cry for a name, a beloved perhaps. The voice cuts through the smoke and chaos, filled with raw agony and fear. He's shouting, coughing through the thick, acrid air, tripping over his own feet in his frantic search. There's an open wound on his head, a deep gash that dribbles blood down his face, mingling with the dirt and sweat.

"Amy," he sobs, "Amy," he spots you sitting in the rubble and hurries towards you. "Help me—help me find—"

It comes in fast, a blur in the shadows that moves with terrifying speed. Before he can finish his sentence, it's upon him, dragging him away with a ferocity that leaves you frozen in place.

You jump, a silent scream stuck in the back of your throat as you watch the horror unfold. You're trembling, unable to see the creature clearly but acutely aware of the sounds—bones snapping, the dreadful crunching, and the sickening drip of blood hitting the ground.

Tears well up in your eyes, and a cry almost escapes your lips before a hand suddenly clamps over your mouth, stifling your instinctive scream.

It's the guy from before, his face now smeared with dirt, his eyes wide with terror. He holds his finger to his lips, a silent plea for you to stay quiet.

You can feel his hand trembling against your skin, his heavy breaths and anxious pants betraying his own fear.

When you finally calm down, you can sense his fear is even greater than your own. He slowly removes his hand, his eyes searching yours for understanding. Despite the terror, you feel a surge of determination. You nod at him, too terrified to speak.

He helps you to your feet, his grip firm but gentle, and guides you underneath a heavy, wooden table similar to the one you were sitting on earlier. The table's legs are sturdy, and it offers some measure of protection

Your eyes, blurred with tears and the strain of fear, lock with his. The dim light from a nearby, flickering emergency lantern casts deep shadows across his face, revealing the sheer magnitude of his terror. His expression reflects a fear that seems almost palpable, magnifying your own sense of dread.

Despite his visible fear, there’s an unwavering loyalty in his gaze while he presses his hands to a wound on your leg you haven't noticed until then.

You open your mouth, a silent gasp escaping as you instinctively want to speak. However, you remember the perilous situation and close it again, forcing yourself to remain silent. Your trembling hands fumble in your pockets, retrieving your phone.

The screen is cracked and spiderwebbed, but it still lights up, its soft glow a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of the library. With a shaky breath, you type a message, each keystroke feeling like a thunderclap in the stillness.

You press the phone towards him, the words “What’s your name?” barely visible through your shaking hands.

He takes the phone from you with deliberate slowness, his movements calculated to avoid making any noise that might betray your hiding spot. Every creak of the wooden floorboards and distant, muffled noises from the library only heighten your anxiety.

The silence around you is almost tangible, filled with the collective holding of breaths from other hidden survivors. They are scattered throughout the library, huddled in various corners, doing their utmost to stay hidden and silent.

The fear of being discovered is a constant, oppressive presence, and no one knows how long they will need to remain in hiding—whether until help arrives or until they are discovered by the monsters stalking within the shadows.

He studies the screen briefly, his eyes flicking between the shattered glass and the message, before handing the phone back to you. The single word “Eric” is typed in, but the simple introduction does little to ease the tension.

The sincerity in his eyes is clear, though his own are brimming with tears that begin to trail down his cheeks silently.

You type your own name quickly and show it to him, your fingers trembling as you tap out the letters.

The strained smile he offers is far from comforting, and his tears make yours burn at your skin. The library remains eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of shifting survivors and the distant, ominous sounds of the monsters prowling outside.

That's when you realized, you were going to die here.

[qqueenofhades]

Leaving aside possible reversals, disasters, doom & gloom, can we take a moment to savor the Trump meltdown over Harris/Walz and the momentum that makes a possible blue tsunami seem an entirely plausible outcome? I'd love to give you the space to ramble about it if you'd like, as my current fandom at least for the moment has shifted back to US politics (but not, for the first time in a while, to doom scrolling politics!).

Aha, I feel as I have probably already said most of my current thoughts, but here are a few things that really make me desire a heaping helping of butt-whooping blue wave in November:

The state that has had the most volunteer sign-ups since Harris took over the ticket? Fucking Florida, with over 18,000. The Villages, formerly a hotbed of Trump support (and y'know, probably still is), also had a major pro-Kamala event, and she is allegedly up 15 points in Miami-Dade (after Biden won the county by 7% and lost the state only by 3%). Now, we all know that Obama won Florida twice, but it has become such a symbol of retrograde Trumpian/DeSantisian politics that winning there would be literally seismic. I'm not going so far as saying that it's in PLAY play, but let's just hold onto that happy, happy idea.

Likewise the poll I mentioned the other day, where Trump is struggling to break 50% in Ohio, once a swing state and now also reliably red. The fact that this is Vance's home state and he's dragging the ticket down every single time he opens his mouth, thus offering the smallest sliver of hope that Ohio (which DID legalize abortion and weed by major margins last year) could also go blue? Incredible. Amazing. Showstopping.

Harris is also tied with Trump (46%-46%) in North Carolina and there is a lot of chatter about how the terrible GOP governor candidate could give a boost to Democratic turnout statewide.

The Mormons have apparently announced their intention to abandon (or at least support much less than they usually do) the Republican presidential ticket in 2024. Remember when Obama won Indiana in 2008? In my wildest dreams, I imagine Utah going blue in 2024. It won't but shh.

Basically, where we were braced for another agonizing nail-biting grind-it-out three-day election determined by a few thousand votes in key states (because etc etc the Electoral College sucks) we are now looking at the very real possibility that Harris wins at least one state, and possibly more, that Biden didn't, and which have been seen as out of reach for Democrats since Trump came on the scene. I don't think I need to counsel anyone against complacency, because we're all too damn scared for that, but yeah. Polls, even the good-looking ones that we like, don't vote. They are still skewed and subjective and do not represent the actual reality, whatever that may end up being. The Republicans and the media will be trying their absolute goddamnfuckingest to ratfuck us again in the 80-something days that remain, but:

WE CAN DO THIS, WE WILL DO THIS, WE MUST DO THIS.

WHAT IS THIS.... JOY SCROLLING? FOR AMERICAN POLITICS? IN THE YEAR 2024 WITH DONALD TRUMP ON THE TICKET FOR THE FUCKING THIRD TIME?

UNPOSSIBLE.

[hitomisuzuya]

Osamu Dazai x fem!reader. Smut. Semi public. Cunnilingus. Degradation

Occasionally, I write for other fandoms. I was rewatching Bungo Stray Dogs earlier and I am down bad for this man. Scara smut later. I couldn't get this out of my head. Happy New Year!

You didn't even think twice when Dazai said you had to come into the Agency two hours before you usually did. You figured it was for something important. However, you did think it was weird that it was Dazai telling you this.

This man did whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased. You found it hard to believe that Dazai would be concerned with arriving to Agency's office early or even on time.

Your skirt was pushed up your thighs, your legs spread on the couch in front of Dazai. There was a wicked look of mischievous lust in his eyes as he looked up at you from between your legs. Your panties had been pushed aside as Dazai's tongue worked ruthlessly over your cunt.

"Da-Dazai, someone might--" Dazai cut off your protest by latching his lips onto your puffy clit, making your sentence fall apart in a loud moan. You clamped your hand over your mouth, your hips rolling up to seek more friction.

"Don't be so stingy, belladonna," His long, beautiful fingers ghosted featherlight and teasing on the insides of your thighs, "let me hear you," He swirled his tongue almost lazily on your clit.

You put your other hand on the back of his head, pushing his mouth desperately onto your cunt. Dazai vibrated a moan of bliss on your clit. The motion of your hips picked up, your eyes darting to the door for a moment

Your frenzied lust gave Dazai such a thrill. Your cunt was clenching so tight on his tongue that he knew you could barely think, your mind only occasionally drifting to the possiblity that someone could walk in. He could even see the flashes on momentary panic in your glassy eyes as they rolled into the back of your head.

Dazai was master with his tongue. He wanted to slowly build your orgasm up tighter, tighter, leaving you just on the verge of cumming. He wanted to leave you hanging that much longer, to feel you tug on his hair as you push his face onto your cunt with urgency.

"Question is, will my pretty slut cum before anyone arrives," He teased, prodding his tongue slowly on your clit.

"D-Dazai, please," You moaned, grinding your cunt shamelessly into his mouth. You felt a few soothing rubs on your thighs, a twisted sense of glee bled into the smile on his face when you moaned louder hearing his degrading praise.

"Shh, it's okay, belladonna," Dazai nudged his nose against your cunt, sweeping his tongue between your sensitive walls. You squirmed on the couch, your hand fell from your mouth to the back of his head, earning you a praising groan. "Let me work," He cooed.

The only thing you could do was cling to and tug on Dazai's hair as his tongue pushed you over the edge. Your legs shook as the knot of your orgasm splintered apart, holding his face into your cunt as your release flooded out onto his tongue.

"See, I knew I could get my precious girl to squirt before the day started," He said, his voice thick with pride as he happily lapped your release.

You were panting quietly, your body nearly limp on the couch by the time Dazai sat up and wiped his mouth. He straightened your panties, and patted your thighs in satisfaction.

[nerdysleepybunny]

Hallo! im new here so please let me know if i cross any boundries.'

anywho, I was wondering if i could request a platonic philza and/or techno comfort? ive had bad few days :(

Have a wonderful day/night!

I APOLOGIZE FOR GETTING TO THIS SO LATE!! I literally love dsmp asks even though the fandom is dying off, so this definitely isn’t crossing any boundaries! I hope you’re doing better. My dms are open if you ever need to chat! :D

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

Fandom(s): DreamSMP

Character(s): Philza, Technoblade (ft. Mumza & Chat)

Reader: Gender neutral (you/your)

Style: Hcs

TW: N/A

Summary: How Philza and Technoblade (separate) would comfort you!

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

Philza:

I feel like he’s the type to just know you aren’t doing well before you even say anything.

Like, you’re just sitting there in your feels, then suddenly?

BOOM CONCERNED DAD RIGHT IN YOUR FACE

“Are you okay, mate?”

“Do you need anything?”

“Here, let’s sit and have a chat.”

Literally shooing chat away so it’s just the two of you having quality time together.

Would sit down next to you on a couch, but probably wouldn’t initiate any touching. The most I see him doing is a shoulder pat or a hand rubbing your back.

Of course, he wouldn’t mind you leaning on him or embracing him! He just doesn’t want to touch you in case you want your space :)

If you want to talk about it he’s there to listen and offer wise old man advice (if you call him old while you’re upset, it’s the ONE time he won’t get defensive about it)

Like

He’s just talking giving you some advice about your problems, then he hears you snickering

“What’s so funny?”

“You sound so old right now, Phil.”

Usually he’d shout his usual “I’M NOT OLD/I’m only in my 30’s, mate…” (I’m pretty sure he’s canonically thousands of years old but shh let grandpa be delusional)

But now? He’d just chuckle and shake his head

“Whatever you say, mate.”

DON’T EXPECT HIM TO BE SOFT FOREVER, IT’S ONLY BECAUSE YOU’RE CURRENTLY SAD

After you’ve concluded your venting/told him that you don’t want to talk about it

You know what time it is…

DISTRACTIONS!!!

Pillow fort anyone? He’s giving pillow fort vibes.

He’s a dad, so obviously he’d just do all the work and build it for you. Again, only because you’re sad. Any other time he’d yell at you for not helping.

Speaking of sadness

Don’t let Phil’s wife see you sad…

OH NO YOU’RE SAD? NOW MUMZA IS SAD AND IS RUSHING TO COMFORT YOU

Mumza is the type to cry when she sees someone else crying, so now both of you are just sobbing together and Phil is there trying to comfort the two of you but is an overwhelmed old man and may end up crying himself

Uh… cry party?

Either you all end up making fun of each other for crying which results in you all laughing together, or you just cry till you get sleepy and pass out on the floor together.

What an interesting way to family bond.

Technoblade:

So you seek The Blade for comfort, the most monochrome and nonchalant man on the server. What a wonderful decision, reader! /lh (I’d do the exact same)

If you’re a Technoblade fan you’ve definitely heard the “it’s fine” audio.

Now I can either be wholesome and say he’d hold you close and whisper that everything will be okay to you

Or I can be silly and realistic and say that he’d pull out a phone and just play the audio with a blank face, but is laughing on the inside due to your “what the actual fuck” face.

Okay now for some actual comfort!

As we all know… Technoblade isn’t exactly good at comfort.

He kills orphans for a living, how do you think he’d react seeing someone crying like a child?

He’s standing looking at you with a look of “why is this creature screaming” and “wtf do I do”

“Uh… you good? You okay? You, uh… need a hug…?”

Very awkwardly holds his arms out for a hug, and if you accept, he even more awkwardly pats your back.

If you got his shirt wet with tears, he’d DEFINITELY comment about it

“Are you seriously ruining my shirt? How are my enemies supposed to think I have a good fashion sense now?!”

Goes into a rant about how he needs to look his best and how it’s a good strategy to beat his enemies in battle while you’re kinda just there… honestly are you even crying anymore?

You’ve stopped crying ages ago, and he’s still just talking

In conclusion, Technoblade is good at calming people down without even trying (I was literally having a breakdown and all I needed to do was listen to the silly pig man talk about Greek mythology. It must all be part of his master plan…)

Speaking of listening to his voice, here’s a scenario.

“Technoblade, can you read to me?”

“…what?”

“Read to me.”

“I’m not reading you a bedtime stor-“

“I wanted you to tell me about Greek mythology.”

“Fine. Come here.”

Long story short, he starts by reading you just one story. That one story turns into the entire history of the Greek gods and goddesses… yeah you pass out pretty quickly. But Technoblade isn’t one to stop mid-ramble. Once he notices you’re asleep, he’ll continue talking, just quieter. He’ll eventually get sleepy himself, and soon enough… you’re both asleep.

Works like a charm!

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

[enkas-illusion]

Better Than Your 2D Men

Fandom / Pairing: Attack On Titan / Eren x f!reader

Rating: SFW / Fluff

Genre/Theme: Established relationship; non-titan au

Content warning: fluff, teasing, language, suggestive (?), they make out a little.

Summary: When you crush over your fav anime men, Eren gets jealous cause homeboy wants all the attention to himself.

Author's Note: Hello, here’s a short fluffy one-shot with my fav 2D man cause I wanted to have an ambitious crossover of my fav animes. Thank you for reading <3

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: 3D (Alternate Ver.) by Jung Kook

“Baby… pay attention to me…”

You ignore your boyfriend's pouty voice as he lies across the bed, near your feet – instead, you focus on the laptop screen on your lap.

“How much longerrrr?” You hear him sigh and feel fingers caressing the bottom of your feet.

“You know I'm not ticklish,” you reply plainly, eyes still glued to the screen.

“Hmm, that's why…” you hear him mumble before you feel a set of teeth bite around your right foot toes.

“Eren, ew… what the fuck,” you cringe, pulling your foot away from him as you slide the laptop to your side, abruptly halting the anime you were watching to finally look at him.

Your boyfriend smiles ingeniously, proud of his accomplishment at finally getting your attention redirected towards him.

“So that’s what it takes for you to finally pay attention to what really matters,” he ponders as he crawls up to lie between your legs, tilting his head to rest his face on your right thigh.

“I was focusing on what really matters,” you roll your eyes as you grab your laptop once again to rest it on your other thigh. However, Eren’s quick to move further up till his torso is splayed over you, almost like a lizard trying to cover as much surface area of a wall it possibly can.

“Rennie, please let me finish these episodes, I haven’t had the time to watch them for like… weeks now,” you sigh as you try to move his heavy body to the side.

He doesn't budge but simply wraps his arms around your waist, tucking his hands into the gap between your body and the mattress, resting his cheek on your belly, “Okay, you can continue watching.” 

You sigh in defeat as you tilt your laptop screen, pressing play and focusing your attention back on the show despite the awkward position you’re in. 

It isn’t another 10 minutes into the episode before you hear your boyfriend speak again, “Sometimes I wonder if the only reason you watch this show is cause the men are attractive. There’s no way a slice-of-life person like you enjoys such violence and death.”

You don’t reply, trying your best to ignore his commentary and focusing on the fight scene.

“Oh my god, I’m right! Who is it? Do you like Gojo? Or Nanami? Or who– what are the names of other hot men in this one?” Eren chuckles in disbelief, looking up to scan your face to see if you give away anything.

“Shh, let me concentrate… it’s an important fight,” you mumble without looking at him and the scene is almost over.

“Yeah right,” he scoffs as he pauses the episode right when Choso enters the frame, “tell me, do you find this guy hot?”

“Eren, are you seriously jealous of a 2D character?” you counter, trying not to laugh at his actions.

“Well, if he’s stealing my precious time with my girl then ye–”

“We’ve literally been in bed the whole day,” you interrupt him.

“And is it so wrong to want to be closer to my girlfriend?” he gasps.

“Yes, you were lying around, scrolling on your phone… doing random shit the whole day but the minute I decided to watch JJK, you suddenly want my attention,” you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t change the topic– who’s your fav among them?” he dodges your accusations.

A smile creeps up on your lips as you decide to indulge him, “Well, they’re all so hot, it’s hard to choose really. There’s this guy, Choso… and Geto, and Toji! Now that I think about it, all of them are equally attractive.”

“All brunettes,” he notes.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“All the men you just named have dark hair,” he states.

“Yes… so?” 

“I’m basically like the real-life version of them – I have long, dark hair, a good physique, handsome face–”

“Okay, Narcissus, chill,” you snort. Eren pulls away from you to move further up till he’s hovering over you, caging your head between his arms.

“No, my point being… if you have all of this right here,” he points at himself as he smirks, “why waste your time on some stupid anime?”

“I can have both,” you grin, pressing your palms over his chest.

“One is clearly better than the other,” he dips his head down for a peck.

“I seriously can’t believe you’re jealous of a bunch of sexy 2D men,” you giggle once again.

“No, I'm not… Can your 2D men do this?” he whispers, tilting your face and burying his face into your neck. He licks your skin before sucking on it roughly, causing goosebumps to rise all over your body.

“Can they?” he asks once again as his hand glides under your t-shirt to cup one of your breasts, playing with the nipple. Eren nibs at the spot behind your ear and you let out a soft moan. “Yes?” 

“No,” you huff, closing your eyes at the feeling.

“So, am I not better than your 2D men?” he whispers in your ear before biting your earlobe. His hand abandons your tit, instead travelling down to dip into the waistband of your shorts, pressing two fingers over your mound.

“Y-yes,” you sigh. He laughs at how desperate your voice comes out and you tilt your head to kiss him on the lips to end this awkward conversation. 

And Eren, being the good boyfriend that he is, lets you mask your embarrassment into his embrace – delighted at being the centre of your attention once again.

~fin~

[spenceragnewfics]

as the ABSOLUTE CHAMPION of whumpfic in all fandoms, I will never not request fics in which he's hurt and y/n takes care of him. I will request this to literally anyone who will listen, the word must be spread. :P

(not really into the torture-style whump where there's someone like lowkey abusing them, gimme all the broken legs and car accidents and fainting spells and all that fun stuff. :P )

I have never written a whump fic and I've read very few but I hope this is what you were hoping for.

HIS CARETAKER | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

TW: Major injury, blood, needle, stitches

Word Count: 872

Description: Y/N has always been a caretaker, she just didn't realize how much she would need to be one for her boyfriend.

Y/N has always dealt with accident-prone people. Her little sister is very accident-prone so she’s been a caretaker since she could remember. When she moved to LA from her hometown, she didn’t think she would have to continue to be one until she met her loving but very accident-prone boyfriend, Spencer Agnew.

Spencer is one of the nicest, sweetest, most understanding people you could ever meet, but this man gets hurt just about every time he walks. Cuts, scrapes, bumps, everything you could think of this man has and very often. His hands are almost always wrapped in some kind of bandage done amazingly by his loving girlfriend.

Thankfully, he hasn’t had anything too major happen yet. No broken bones, no hospital visits, just small cuts and bruises. So Y/N is happy to take care of him as long as he doesn’t do something super stupid.

One day at Smosh, Y/N is putting the finishing touches on Arasha’s makeup before she goes to the games set. As the head of the makeup and hair department at Smosh, Y/N is always busy making sure the cast looks amazing.

“Okay, Rasha you look stunning as always. Now get Chanse over here, he’s my last one for this shoot.” 

“Of course, thanks again,” Arasha says before hugging her and walking off to get Chanse. Y/N gets a little bit of time to clean her brushes and area before Chanse arrives. While she’s doing that, she feels a hand on her back. Normally, she’d jump but the familiar cologne makes her smile instead, “Hey, honey. Whatcha doin'?”

“Just coming to see how everything’s going before we do this shoot. Are we still good for dinner tonight?” He asks, his hand resting on her waist while he looks at her lovingly. “Of course, you know I never turn down free food.” Spencer rolls his eyes with a small laugh before kissing her cheek. “If that’s how you see it, I’ll see you after the shoot.”

The two share a quick kiss before he walks off to the games set, “Honestly, you two make me believe in love.” Chanse says while walking over to the makeup station. “Well thank you. I know you’ll find the perfect guy one day, Chanse. Just gotta give it time.” She says, sitting him down as she starts on his makeup.

It doesn’t take her long to finish Chanse’s make-up and when she does, she starts to clean up. She has it down to a science after doing this job for so long. Checking the time, she sees that it’s still a while before the games shoot will be over so she decides to get her a snack.

Almost an hour later, the doors to the games set burst open with Courtney running out. “Y/N! Y/N!” They scream, looking around for the girl. Hearing her name being yelled, she gets out of her chair at her desk and looks around before seeing the blonde running up to her, “Court, what’s wrong?” She asks, holding her friend’s arms in comfort.

“It’s Spencer, he hurt himself. We need you, like now.” Hearing that her boyfriend is hurt, she quickly grabs the first aid kit she has at her desk before running with Courtney back to the games stage.

“She’s here, Spence. It’s going to be okay.” Arasha says when she sees Y/N running in. Everyone moves away as she gets close and kneels on the ground. She looks over at her boyfriend whose hand is bleeding heavily, a huge gash evident. “Shh, shh, it’s going to be okay, baby.” She assures him, as she opens the first aid kit.

“I’m so sorry, I was being stupid.” He says, trying to look at his hand but she stops him. “Don’t look at it, Spence. Just look at me.” She says, grabbing the needed supplies: alcohol wipes, thread, and a needle.

“What happened, guys?” She asks the room as she starts to clean his hand. “We were trying to do a bit but it went wrong and he got cut. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Chanse apologizes, his voice wavering. 

“It’s okay, I just…can we clear the stage for the time being?” She asks, her eyes not leaving the wound on his hand as she continues to clean it. “Yeah, yeah, come on guys.” Alex Tran says, moving into his producer role and having everyone leave, Y/N and Spencer being the only ones on stage.

“I’m so sorry, babe. You’re always having to take care of me and I just-” Spencer says, but she stops him. “Charles Spencer Agnew, I do not care. I take care of you because I want to. I love you and I will take care of you.” She says while grabbing the needle and thread.

“Now this will hurt but you need stitches. You’re lucky my mother was a nurse.” She teases before starting on the stitches. He winces every so often before she finishes and kisses it.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you.” He says, smiling at her. “Bleed out or be dead on the side of a road.” She jokes before leaning in to kiss him.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Day 10- Strip Tease.

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1

Character: Raiden

Warnings: dry humping, implied smut

A/n: I hate it, not happy with this fic at all 😩.

It was easy to fluster Raiden, he was too sweet for his own good and since he became the champion you couldn’t help but think you had to give him a reward, he did deserve it after all.

“Raiden.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hummed pressing your body into his back as your fingers moved down his chest. “I have something to show you.”

Blinking, Raiden wetted his lips as he quickly glanced around the room. “Yea?”

Humming you nodded your head placing a kiss to the nape of his neck then pulled back go in him a smirk as you stepped away from him.

Glancing around, Raiden wetted his lips as he egerly followed you as his body buzzed with excitement.

The man didn’t get a chance to ask you what you had planned as you shoved him in the chair. Your body moving on his as your fingers ran down his chest, your lips near his ear. “Shh just back an enjoy the show love. You do deserve it after all.”

Swallowing, Raiden watched as you placed Johnny’s phone down a nearby table. He didn’t know what you hit but it did not take long for music to fill the air and soon you were dancing.

Your hips swaying to the best of the music, your fingers hooking into the edges of your pants as you dashed over to the man sitting in the chair. Digging his nails into the arm rest, Raiden shifted his body to get more comfortable as he watched you slowly peel your shirt off. Inch by inch his eyes ran over you skin as you tinted your back to him.

Tossing a smile over your shoulder you let the fabric drop to the ground, your hands cupping your breasts as you sat on your lovers lap. Raiden’s hands quickly moving to your hips as you slowly grounded your hips against his. His fingers clutching your hips tightly grinding up to meet your movements.

“Such a good boy you are”

Buying his face into you neck, Raiden let his fingers dance up your naked skin as he grounded into you against, his erection pushing into your backside.

Sliding out of the man’s lap, your gaze took in the flushed appearance of your love. Your skin prickling with excitement as you grasped the edge of the pants slowly slipping them off as Raiden’s gaze remained on you.

Your hands moving to the string of you panties as your sauntered over to Radien. Now standing in between his legs you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. “Now come and claim your prize.”

Pushing out of the chair, Raiden pulled you in for a deep kiss. His tongue isn’t over yours as he pressed you against the wall. He’ll claim his prize of course and once he was down, he’ll show you just how grateful he was.

[euripidestrousers]

Microfic idea: how about one of them gets drunk and the other one has to put them to bed? 😁

Lemme just pick myself up off the floor - one of my favourite writers in this fandom gave me a prompt!!

And it's a good one too. Writing this little snippet was so much fun, thank you!

****

“I don't need an escort.”

“Of course not.”

“I was just having a good bloody time. If Lily didn't want to go to bed then-”

“Then you would have stayed up all night drinking with James, yes, I'm aware”, Remus smiles to himself as he adjusts his grip on Sirius’ arm slung over his shoulders. He forgets how heavy he is. Sirius always holds himself with such lofty grace that it's easy to forget he's rather solid - something Remus is frequently reacquainted with when Sirius rolls on top of him during the night. But watching Sirius and James singing cheerfully (and terribly) at each other as they danced around the fire tonight, made it easy to believe that Sirius weighed less than a feather.

“Too right”, Sirius growls, leaning heavily on Remus and ignoring the strained grunt that escapes, “We've earned it haven't we?”

Remus gets an unwelcome flash of a battlefield, the bridge where the Order had a standoff against Death Eaters meaning to sink the bridge and all the muggles on it before the Order had swept them away. It cost them a few of their own that day. Loss has become a constant companion, lying in bed between them every morning. 

Sirius had insisted James’ birthday be celebrated a week later. The hard line of his clenched jaw and hollow eyes had betrayed a motive other than celebration - a night to live again, defiantly, openly in the face of all the odds. A resistance worthy of Sirius Black and James Potter. And live they did tonight. 

“Yes, I think we've earned it a few times over”, Remus replies softly. 

Sirius grunts and Remus can feel him slipping into the dark, the melancholy which he succumbs to so easily without James’ brash voice and quick laughter. Remus used to feel a tinge of envy - he could share this man's bed but his soul is already shared between him and James. But Remus understands it now, has long come to terms with it. Who couldn't love James Potter with all their heart?

He pulls himself out of his musings, forcing some lightness into his tone, “What did you put in the fire? That smoke set me off laughing like I haven't done since Prongs walked into that tree antlers first.”

Sirius brightens a little, swaying rather than dragging his feet. “A little something for the nerves, my dear.” Sirius suddenly grins boastfully, “Haven't heard you sing since sixth year-”

“And not again for another few years I think”, Remus chuckles, pulling Sirius closer as he stumbles, both to steady him and to leech some of his endless warmth. It's supposed to be Spring but it's unusually cold, a chill blowing in from the coast and biting at the tips of his ears. Remus barely resists slipping a hand under Sirius’ shirt where he knows there's an endless source of heat. 

They've reached the front steps of their little town house and Remus concentrates on steadying himself to guide Sirius up the steps. 

Sirius is blissfully unaware of Remus’ struggles, his breath hot in Remus’ ear as he mumbles, “Moony, always such a gentleman. Insisting on walking me home-”

“We live together-”

“Gonna put me to bed?” Sirius grins lecherously, the effect ruined a little by the slurring, “Tuck me in? Big, bad, scary wolf you are.” He snorts rudely and Remus would be offended, except the fact that Sirius finds his lycanthropy being a source of irony rather than fear has become reassuring.

Remus shakes his head, about to tell him that he'd bet money on Sirius passing out as soon as his head hits the pillow, but then Sirius throws his head back and starts belting out a warbled but recognisable song, “Ooh, love, ooh, lover boy. What're you doing tonight? Hey, boy-”

“Shh, Sirius-”

“Set my alarm, turn on my charm-”

“Turn it back off-”

“That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy”, Sirius throws his arm out as he makes a meal of the last word and Remus loses his balance, falling against Sirius and pinning him to the front door. Sirius’ laughter is warm against his cheek, his body burning beneath Remus’ hands, and he can't help but laugh with him, full of light and love. He feels it. The reason Sirius insisted on tonight being a night of laughter and celebration. He feels the spark of life thrumming in his veins, a renewed vigour for being alive. 

They stumble through the front door and Remus stops Sirius from swaying towards the shelf full of liquor - “Come on, have a nightcap”, “Bed. Now, Padfoot” - and successfully guides him towards the bedroom. Sirius is still humming the tune to the Queen song as he collapses onto the bed, leaving Remus to pull off his boots. 

When he starts unbuttoning Sirius’ belt, Sirius grins up at the ceiling, singing softly, “Say the word and your wish is my command-”

“I should be so lucky”, Remus mutters fondly, “Come on. Pants off.”

“Fancy a-”

“You are about to fall asleep”, Remus chides even as he admires the hard lines of Sirius’ shoulders and chest as he pulls off his jacket and shirt.

Sirius flops back on the bed in just his underwear and a content smile on his handsome face. Remus undresses himself to the peaceful tune Sirius hums, then crawls into bed next to him, nudging him to move over. 

“There's a hangover potion on your bedside”, Remus murmurs, closing his eyes. 

The bed dips and then he's squashed under a burning, heavy weight pinning him to the bed. He smiles, wrapping his arms around the dead weight, brushing black wavy locks off his face. 

“R'gonna win.”

“Hmm?” Remus hums in question, already thinking about what to make for breakfast in the morning. He pulls himself back to the present to listen to Sirius’ drunk mumbling.

“We're gonna win”, Sirius mumbles in the quiet, where the only other noise is the pipes groaning behind the walls, “This war.”

Remus hesitates, his heartbeat thudding in his ears and liquor swirling in his stomach.

“Of course we are”, he finally agrees softly with more conviction than he feels.

“You paused”, Sirius grunts, “Don't do that.”

Remus swallows, eyes wide and staring at the shadows on the ceiling. 

“Go to sleep”, he murmurs. 

It's a long time before he feels Sirius’ sleep twitches, signalling him falling into a deep sleep, and it's longer still before sleep creeps into the edges of Remus’ vision, held at bay by doubt and fear and the sense that if he closes his eyes, what he has will slip between his fingers.

[barbiiecams]

Can you write about Drew with his little family visiting him for his days off from filming? 🩷

Also I love that you write about black oc readers!! It’s rare in this fandom to find that.

vacay

dad!drew starkey x mom!reader, not proof read, & yes more black representation for the obx fandom pls! also this is kinda long soo enjoy 😖

drew had been gone filming for about a month now.

for you, it was easy not to get so hung up over the fact he was gone for such a long time.

when you first started dating, it was definitely a tragedy. and it pained you everytime that you couldn’t just go with him.

and even now, of course you missed him like crazy. but after all these years of being together, you’ve learned how to deal with it and it got easier.

but for his baby aaliyah who’s never been separated from her daddy? oh this was hell.

she couldn’t even stand the sight of him walking out the door for 10 minutes, so now that he’s walked out the door, and hasn’t come back for weeks?

she definitely was not having it.

you knew how she was going to react as well, so for weeks you prepared yourself for the endless tears and tantrums.

“you know she’s going to be a pain when i’m gone, right?” drew reminds you while you guys get ready for bed.

“trust me, i know. im getting myself ready for it as we speak.” you reply as you start to wrap your hair up for bed.

he chuckles. “you guys can always come with, though. that’d be a good idea especially for her.”

“maybe like a visit for a few days, but i don’t think her being out of the country for that long is a good idea.” you said as you laid down in the bed. drew agreed with that statement and you both moved on to the next topic.

that was weeks ago. but now? you were starting to consider whether or not you should’ve just taken drew’s idea.

you tried so many resolutions with liyah, and nothing seemed to work.

the girl never seemed to tire herself out either. she just recently turned one, yet you were already seeing the tunnel to the terrible 2’s somehow.

to be fair, she was an angel. but once she got started, you didn’t know if and when she was going to stop.

currently you were trying to feed her. you had ms rachel on your phone in front of her because that seemed to calm her down in the tiniest bit when she would get upset.

it was going good, until drew had started to call you.

and as soon as she saw the picture of you and him pop on the screen, waterworks flooded all over again.

“i just calmed this baby down and now he wanna call me.” you mutter to yourself, partially annoyed even though he couldn’t control it.

facetimes never seemed to make her feel better and it actually quite made her even more upset, but maybe hearing his voice at the very beginning of a breakdown could ease her, so you went ahead and picked up.

“hello?” you propped the phone up on the table then picked her up and tried shushing her.

he didn’t even need to ask ‘how are my girls?’ because he could clearly tell.

“awe, i miss my baby too.” he pouts.

you picked up the phone and put it in her face so she could see him. “talk to her, your voice might help.”

“hi my love. shh, it’s okay daddy’s right here.” he says through the phone.

she stops wailing, but she’s still making whining and crying noises.

“she’s taking this even worse than i thought,” you say. “i knew it was going to be bad, but not this terrible.”

“she’s just a true daddy’s girl. what can i say?” drew smirks through the phone.

“you might find this funny but i have real life headaches from her, joseph.” he laughs at the use of his real name.

“i bet you do, im sorry baby.” he says, “why don’t you guys come and visit for a little bit?”

this time, you were quick to actually be on board.

“i think that’s a good idea too.” you started bouncing aaliyah up and down and gave her kisses. she wasn’t as loud with her whining, but she was still continuing. “i think it’s time we go see daddy.”

drew smiles, “i can’t wait. i’m gonna take some time off and buy your tickets. when do you wanna come out?”

“shit, tomorrow.” you sigh.

he laughs again at your comments but knows you’re being completely serious at the same time. “get to packing then baby.”

that’s all he had to say for you to pick the phone up and make your way upstairs with liyah.

first you started in liyah’s room. drew was still on the phone with you, talking way more than you were because she seemed to be getting quieter and quieter. it bothered her that she couldn’t feel him, but right now she’s was taking whatever she could take.

you showed him outfits, he decided whatever or not he liked him. you made sure to pack a whole separate bag for all of her baby necessities as well.

because you were connecting with drew in some way, it felt like an easy task you were able to accomplish. you knew for a fact if he wasn’t on the phone it would’ve taken you the rest of the day with her wailing and screaming.

when you were done packing her bag, you tried putting her to sleep. of course it took about an hour, but eventually she was soundly asleep. all you could do was thank heavens.

placing her in her crib, you had to really tiptoe out the door. if she woke up while you were in the middle of trying to walk out and leave, that would be another meltdown waiting to happen.

you and drew stayed on the phone even after she was liyah was put to sleep, but you made sure to keep the volume of the phone down so that his voice didn’t travel to her. now it was time to pack your clothes. he helped you pick out your outfits, and you did a mini fashion show for him with your outfits.

he loved them all, and occasionally gave a ‘do a little spin for me.’

every moment with him, or even just talking to him was great. no matter if you were actually next to him, or through the phone.

but unfortunately, you guys couldn’t stay on the phone forever. it was soon time for him to start filming again.

“i gotta go baby, but i love you so much, and i’ll see you two soon.” he said while walking back to his set. “kiss my baby for me.”

“i will. i love you too.” you smile then hang up the phone. you sighed and rubbed your face, thinking about how quick this was happening, but how ready you were at the same time. if it was going to get her to stop crying so much and was also going to get you to see your man again, a win is a win!

after everything, it was about 5 pm. this was a late nap for liyah and she would be up end up being bouncing up off the walls, but maybe that was good cus then she would sleep on the plane ride tomorrow.

heading back downstairs, you made dinner for yourself & made sure to leave a little for liyah cus she’ll get hungry out of nowhere.

you also made it a chore to clean the entire downstairs of your house, because coming back to a clean house after a few days on vacay is always a nice thing.

surprisingly, liyah didn’t wake up once. you weren’t too loud, but loud enough for her to start yelling, waiting for mommy or daddy to pick her up.

you love that girl to death, but her tantrums are for the birds.

after you were done, you went to check on her. she was still soundly asleep, most likely for once tired herself out with all the noises. soon, you were going to have to wake her up so she could take a bath. but you weren’t worried about that at the moment. you were finally able to pamper yourself for the evening, then deal with her later.

your phone dinged, and knowing what the message was you opened it right away.

2 attachments from drew, and they were your tickets to morocco for 10 days at 6 am.

hearting both of the attachments, you started to get excited.

one month wasn’t too much of a long period of time, but it was always enough for you and your baby to miss him more and more each day.

you could finally see him again, and you’d be reunited as a family.

—

the night went smoothly. she only woke up once, and that was to bathe and eat a bit of what you had made. she was easy to put back to sleep, and that’s what matter the most. you could’ve had more sleep for yourself, but the hours were efficient enough.

sooner than later your alarm rang for 4:30. you weren’t a morning person whatsoever, but you definitely did not have a problem waking up right now since you knew what was to come in only a matter of time.

it was going to be a real long ride of 11 hours, but the outcome would be worth it.

getting up out of bed, you brushed your teeth and washed your face with your products, then put those into your suitcase.

you let liyah sleep for a few more minutes, then woke her up knowing you were just going to put her in her mini uggs and throw a coat over her pajamas.

and as for you, you were keeping your hair the way it was and throwing on a hoodie and sweatpants.

you took this time to order the uber to the airport, and bring both of your suitcases and her baby bag downstairs.

walking back up to her room, you picked her up from the crib and started to pat her back while bouncing her. the movement would keep her asleep and peaceful instead of awake and cranky.

“we’ll see daddy sooner than you know it, mama.” you whispered to her.

not even bothering to make breakfast since it was too early for the both of you to be eating, you turned off everything in the house and waited for the car. it was now 5:15 and the car was going to pull up any minute.

liyah woke up for just two seconds, “mama?”

“yes baby?”

“where dada?”

“we’re gonna see him in a few hours, don’t worry.” you softly laid her head back down so she could close her eyes again. as she was falling asleep, the car pulled up and it was time to go.

stepping outside with a baby and one hand and dragging suitcases in the other, the driver stepped out to help you load up, and you placed aaliyah in the car seat you had requested the driver to have.

he closed the trunk and hopped right back into the car. he pulled out from your driveway and made small talk with you. you tried your best to keep up, but it was just too damn early.

after a 10 minute ride to the airport, he unloaded your things for you and helped you bring them inside while you carried liyah. you thanked him, then did all the stuff you needed to do before waiting to board the plane.

aaliyah was still asleep, clearly all the tantrums finally caught up with her.

you texted drew a few times, even though he was most likely resting.

but about 30 minutes later, it was time to board the plane. you had all your luggage ready, and you guys were finally able to start the real travel.

—

the plane ride was long, but it wasn’t bad.

you kept liyah busy with movies, coloring, and eating a few things.

she didn’t eat everything since plane food isn’t the greatest, but she ate some and so did you.

you had boarded the plane around 6 in the morning, well now it was 4:30 and you had just landed.

aaliyah had a burst of energy, and you knew she was ready to just play and be carefree again.

thankfully, the passengers were nice enough to help you walk off the plane and help with your luggage when they saw you with a baby, so the plane experience overall was definitely a 10/10.

you had called drew on the plane, and he let you know he’d been waiting with open arms. you were overjoyed, practically jumping with excitement on the inside and out.

but if you think you were over the top happy, seeing the look on aaliyah’s face while you walked to find drew waiting at the morocco airport had you all the way beat.

“DADDY!!!” she screamed in your arms once you started to make it towards him.

you giggled at her her volume, and was also just happy enough yourself to laugh at anything knowing you were finally with drew again.

he walked towards the two of you and met you halfway, “is that my baby girl?” he smiled and took her from you. their bond was something so special to you, and you were so grateful for how strong their relationship was.

he gave her many kisses and tickles, which made her laugh. this was the first time you saw her so excited in a while.

“and my other baby girl.” he turned to you, pulling you in and giving you a passionate kiss. you weren’t holding back either, you hadn’t seen your man for far too long now. because of this, you covered liyah’s eyes which made drew laugh.

finally pulling away, he kisses your forehead. “i got our whole week planned out.”

this made you smile. “and what will we be doing?”

“there’s restaurants i want you guys to try, there’s a really nice beach, and i got us a really nice hotel. i promise you these 10 days are gonna make up for the month i left you with this little drama queen,” he started liyah a bit at the last part which made her laugh again. her laughs were always so contagious and it made the two of you laugh as well.

“i know they will, you never disappoint.” you kissed his cheek.

he gets close to your ear and whispers so liyah doesn’t hear, “and i promise once we wrap filming, i’ll make you finish everynight, baby.”

this gets your cheeks hot. you can’t lie at all, you really did miss being tossed and turned by him once she was asleep at night.

“be careful with what you say,” you point a finger at him, “i’ll make you a daddy for the second time.”

he laughs, “please do.”

you roll your eyes at him, then start walking out to where his car is.

drew spent the wholeeee time talking to liyah, even though she mostly still speaks in her baby language.

he was having so much fun too, constantly giving an occasional ‘oh really’ and ‘what happened after that?’

it kept him entertained and so did you. you stayed recording the entire thing and could barely hold in your laughter.

you made finally made it to the hotel (not before stopping for some real food though of course.) and he was definitely not lying when he said it was really nice.

nice wasn’t even a good word, it was gorgeous.

“wow,” the three of you walked in. your hands dealing with the cart of luggage while his carried aaliyah. “this really is beautiful.”

“i know,” he looks like he’s in awe himself while he takes in the hotel. “only the best for my girls.”

you smile at him and he wraps an arm around you, the three of you making your way to the hotel room.

you were very happy you took this vacation.

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] The Beauty of the Beast

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling (Hob x Dream) Rated: E Word Count: 3153 Tags: Top Hob, Bottom Dream, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, werewolf Hob, rough sex, mildly rough and very enthusiastic on all counts, werewolf, werewolf sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, knotting, wolf sex, for just a minute

Notes: We're a touch late for everything this was meant to be a part of, shh. Written for: Smoctober day 1, full moon Smoctober day 10, scenting Smoctober day 13, claws Monsterfucktober bingo, were-creature square Dreamling Nation House of Horrors, making out prompt And also pulling in Smoctober day 16, in the woods

Summary: Recently-turned werewolf Hob wants to protect Dream from this new side of him. Dream is. Not interested in being protected.

On AO3

~~~ "Moon's coming up soon."

The words are muffled against Dream's throat, followed by the faint drag of teeth; Dream shivers. "Yes."

"It's full, tonight." The wet warmth of Hob's tongue follows behind his teeth this time, and Dream purrs.

"Yes."

"You should—you should go."

The way Hob is clutching at Dream belies his words, and Dream's mouth turns down in a smug little moue of disagreement. "I think not."

Hob whines. "It's not—you know I'm happy to see you, always, I just—" His hands paw at Dream's waist, seeking skin beneath the layers and layers of sheer silk that make up Dream's robes. "Just…can't…"

Clearly his instincts are warring with his capacity for words, and Dream is moved to help. "This is only your second moon, since being turned."

"Yes, right, and it's—I'm not very good at—at controlling everything yet. I don't…I don't want you to see me like that."

"Hob." Dream cards gentle fingers through Hob's sweaty hair, cradles him close. "I am not in the habit of casting judgment upon you, not in all our centuries of acquaintance. Do not think me so callous as to start now."

Hob shudders, noses hotly from Dream's shoulder to his ear, breathing him in the whole way. "I might—hurt…I don't want to hurt you."

Dream threads his other hand into Hob's hair as well, guides Hob's eager mouth up the length of his throat and over his chin, tightens his grip and pulls Hob's head back until their eyes meet. "You cannot harm me, Hob Gadling, nor can you. Hurt me, in any way that matters." Hob's eyes are dark with lust, with the shadow of his impending transformation, and something in Dream thrills to the sight. "I would have you share this new facet of yourself with me, that I might know all of the ever-changing man who lays claim to my heart."

The noise Hob makes at that is very canine, a whimpering sort of whine, and he buries his face in the crook of Dream's neck again, inhaling shamelessly.

"Do you know how incredible you smell?" He's nosing into Dream's hair, panting, clutching at Dream's ribs.

"Tell me," Dream breathes, enchanted by this side of Hob, the rapid waning of his inhibitions by the moment.

"Always smelled good," says Hob, nosing down the side of his neck, kissing his bare shoulder where his robes have slipped. "But now it's so much more. Soft sheets n' clean air. Starlight." His parted lips trace over Dream's skin, back up behind his ear, and Hob inhales again. "Winter skies. When the moon is rising an' the frost's like diamonds in the trees."

"Such poetry, Hob Gadling," Dream breathes, and pulls Hob's head up and around to kiss him.

It is a thing of heat and urgency, this meeting of their mouths; Hob whines, surging forward, Dream pushing back, deftly avoiding the nip of Hob's teeth, biting lightly at Hob's lips in return. He coaxes Hob's tongue into play, stoking the fires of arousal between them until he feels near to combusting from the fervor of Hob's attentions.

"Wanna fuck you," Hob slurs, all breathless raw lust and desperate unfiltered passion as Dream finally draws back from the kiss.

"I should be gravely disappointed if you did not," he agrees, a gasping acquiescence, vanishing his robes for the sake of having Hob's hands upon him faster.

"But I'm about t'change, I can't—" Hob shudders all over, head to toe, hands splaying over Dream's narrow naked back despite himself. "You want me like that? You don't mind I'll get…feral?"

"Do you think, truly, that the king of nightmares would disdain the affections of a werewolf, whatever his state of transformation?" Dream presses himself up against Hob, groin to chest, pushes his hips brazenly forward and pulls one of Hob's hands to grip his arse, to indicate to Hob that he should take such liberties himself. "Feel, how you arouse me, how I want you—"

With a whine, Hob seizes the backs of both thighs and yanks them apart, lifting Dream up and around him, and Dream is. Delighted, to note the thrill that runs through him to be manhandled thus. His arms have wrapped behind Hob's neck already and he dives in for another kiss, eager, demanding.

Hob meets him with tongue, with teeth, the promise of devouring in the growl that rises in his throat, and then Hob is turning, stumbling forward; he throws Dream onto the bed with a soft bounce and crawls after, panting, trembling.

The moon is nearly cresting the horizon.

Dream opens his legs, wide, inviting Hob between them. "Take off your clothing, that it might be spared—" He is tugging at the hem of Hob's t-shirt, yanking it up and off over Hob's head, and then Hob falls upon him as he is attempting the confounded buttons of Hob's jeans. Hob's mouth is hot and wet and desperate, mauling Dream's with delicious fervor; Dream manages to open Hob's fly at last and immediately he plunges a hand inside, beneath underwear, seizes the hard length of Hob's cock with a groan.

Hob cries out, gasping, rutting into Dream's fist until Dream lets go, grasping at the opened trousers and wrestling them down Hob's beautiful hairy thighs. Hob drops his face to Dream's chest, mouthing at his skin with abandon and wriggling to help be rid of his jeans, kicking them off at last and grabbing Dream's arms, pushing them up over his head. Dream stares back with challenge and invitation simmering in his gaze, but Hob has buried his face in Dream's chest again, inhaling deeply and moving over a nipple with a passing lick, dipping down to scent up the side of Dream's rib cage to under his lifted arm, where he laves his tongue in long licks.

"Want you," he whimpers, eyes fever bright when they turn to meet Dream's from that vantage. "God, Dream, I want you so bad—"

"Then have me, Hob Gadling." Dream's own want shivers through him, prick throbbing where the hair of Hob's belly drags against it, and he is bereft at this point of all but the thinnest veneer of patience and pride. "Have me as you wish to; let the moon shape you anew and sate your appetites upon me—"

A sliver of moonlight spears through the window and Hob rears up, head thrown back, lets out a fearsome cry as his form shifts. His arms and legs go sleek and sinewy, claws growing in on his fingers and toes; the hair on his body thickens and spreads into proper fur, rich and golden brown. His cock juts proudly between his thighs, glistening dusky red and dripping, and he has sprouted a tail which bobs eagerly behind him as he falls forward again, caging Dream between his arms. His hair is longer, shaggier, ears tapering up into tufted points; his face is somewhat elongated, velvety fur along the burgeoning shape of a muzzle, nose keen and twitching, sharp teeth bared in excitement. And his eyes—

They are still Hob's eyes, dark and warm beneath the feral veneer, and they still burn with want of him.

"Hob, my Hob—" Dream wraps eager legs around Hob's body, draws Hob in to where he has made himself slick and open and ready, and Hob slides easily home with a whine. His hips move on instinct, immediately finding a rhythm until he is fucking with glorious abandon, and Dream arches his head back, moans his pleasure, digs his heels into the sleek fur of Hob's buttocks. Hob's tail brushes his toes intermittently; Hob's clawed fingers rake over his skin, clutching, possessive, soft pink lines rising along Dream's arms and ribs in their wake. Dream reaches up, buries his hands in the thick glory of Hob's mane and kisses his jagged mouth, tongue skirting the dangerous teeth with ease.

He caresses the soft velvet tip of Hob's ear and Hob tilts into it, needy noises spilling from him as he breaks the kiss; he licks a stripe up the length of Dream's throat, bites at his chin, tucks his reshapen face into the crook of Dream's neck, scenting him as before.

"Smell good," Hob manages, voice a guttural fractured shadow of his usual tones but lavishing the same ardent praise upon Dream, who thrills at the duality of it. Hob is still fucking him with delightful abandon; he rises up, leans back on his knees—knees which are still more human than canine—and grasps Dream firmly by the hips, careful with his claws. The full moon through the window casts the golden tones of his fur in molten highlight, magnificent to behold as he towers above Dream. He pulls Dream down onto himself in the same motion as he's thrusting in, and the deep jolt of pleasure has Dream's head lashing back, voice rising, back arching. He lets his arms fall above his head, the picture of passive debauchery even as his legs clench and shift about Hob, heightening Hob's rhythm, and when Hob speeds up just a little bit Dream cries out as orgasm tears through him like wildfire.

Hob grunts his satisfaction as Dream comes down from it, draws out despite the fact he clearly has not yet come. He shuffles about, clawed hands careful as they push Dream higher along the bed until Hob can dip to the mess on Dream's stomach. He laps it up, cool nose and warm tongue going everywhere—Dream's abdomen, the spent length of his cock, his testicles and the creases of his thighs. Dream arches into the attentions, already wanting for more, petting restlessly through Hob's hair as Hob finishes cleaning him up.

"Taste good," Hob says, looking up, overlong tongue curling across his semi-canine nose and licking his own short muzzle clean. He rises up and his claws grasp Dream's hips, and there's a sound in his throat halfway between growl and purr with nothing of humanity in it. It is clear in his demeanor that he wishes to resume fucking; it his clear in his eyes that he wishes assurance that Dream is amenable to whatever happens next. "Dream—" His claws flex, grip tighter.

His name spoken in that gutteral, primal voice swells the currents of want within Dream, makes him ache with need. He pushes up on one elbow, reaches to caress Hob's face with tender desperation, thumb running soft and restless over the fine fur, reaching to stroke behind his pricked-up ear. "Do as you please with me, beloved," he pants, keyed up, fraught with anticipation. "I am at your mercy, I submit to your ardor, willingly—"

And abruptly he finds himself thrown onto his front, lifted and turned and tossed down again so swiftly as to seem instantaneous, with Hob heavy atop him, pressing him into the bed. He is not rough, precisely, but neither is he gentle; his hands are all over Dream, grasping, claws pricking. His breath huffs hot against the back of Dream's neck, followed by his tongue, which then travels in lapping strokes down the knobs of Dream's spine to his open hole. Hob noses into him with an eager huff and Dream whimpers, clutches at the bedclothes and spreads his legs wider. Hob licks at him enthusiastically, little grunts and whines of delight, claws pricking at the backs of his thighs as he presses them still further open; his thumbs brush along their soft inner curves, claws gentle, and Dream is left trembling with want at the perfect balance of care and danger implicit in that touch.

He whines, bereft, when Hob at last abandons his hole and licks back up, up, until Hob is looming over him and setting first tongue and then teeth to the nape of his neck, a careful scrape that makes him shudder, makes him moan, makes him beg.

"Hob—please—"

Hob rises up, plants one clawed hand between Dream's shoulder blades, presses him down with a breathless growl. His cock bumps along the cleft of Dream's arse and Dream shudders, ready, wanting, his patience spent. Hob's hips move, the tip of his prick nudging at Dream's hole and Dream whines, trembling, thighs spread as wide around Hob's splayed knees as they will go. His voice spills from him, short and desperately eager.

"Have me—take me—Hob, please—" Hob's cock slides swiftly into him all at once, all the way to the hilt, and Dream gasps a short shuddering moan, squirms fruitlessly in pursuit of more. "Be ruthless in your use of me, Hob, my Hob—!"

Hob is nothing if not obedient.

Dream surrenders readily to the molten relief of finally being well and thoroughly fucked face down in Hob's bed, one of Hob's clawed hands gripping the back of his neck and the other laced with his own from behind; he gladly allows himself to be pinned thus. His face is mashed sideways into the pillow, muffling his open-mouthed cries somewhat; his hips are pushed up to welcome every fierce thrust, open and greedy, wanton in his need to let Hob claim and consume him. He struggles experimentally, mewling like prey; Hob's clawed grip clenches tight on his neck and the snarl that tears out of Hob's throat nearly has Dream coming again.

Hob somehow increases the ferocity of his thrusts and Dream trembles in his implacable hold, giving voice to his pleasure as Hob slams into him again and again and again, crying out as Hob moves faster, harder. It is exquisite, everything, a savagely beautiful inferno kindling within him, roaring to life in a glorious conflagration of possession, of claiming, of lust and want fulfilled.

He will feel Hob deep in the core of him for days.

It is precisely what he wishes.

He knows full well that he will not last, not in the face of Hob's primal vigor; indeed, all too soon he is verging on climax and frustratingly, exhilaratingly, there is absolutely nothing he can do about it. Hob pins him down and pounds him inexorably up to the precipice and then over into the throes of orgasm, continues relentlessly as Dream shakes and sobs with it, fucks him mercilessly through it such that his eyes are streaming with the sharpness of his pleasure and his voice has gone ragged, hoarse. He thrashes in Hob's grip, crying out breathlessly, body spasming around Hob's pistoning cock again and again; Hob pins him all the more firmly, fucks him snarling and growling all the harder until he is coming again, helpless, screaming and overwrought, mindless in his pleasure and soaking the pillow with his tears and saliva.

And then, and then Hob comes, at long last, howling to the heavens, and the heat of his spend flooding into Dream is exquisite; the way his body swells to keep them locked together after is the most precious and priceless sensation that Dream can imagine. He sobs and squeezes himself tight around it, unable not to, still shaking, and revels at the feel of yet more spend jetting weakly into him, oozing from Hob as Dream clenches hard on his knot and bears down again and again to milk him dry.

Hob collapses to his side at last, Dream caught close up against his velvety chest, furry-sinewy arms wrapped about Dream's ribs and stomach. He noses contentedly into Dream's hair, snuffling his scent, and Dream lies fucked out and slack and blissfully content, the fullness of Hob swollen within him, lets all of his disparate thoughts drift idly together, slowly coming back to himself.

He is not offended when Hob falls asleep still tied inside him, wrapped possessively around him. He is the Shaper of Forms. It would be less than a thought to shift himself free of the knot, out of Hob's lax hold, to return to his own realm and find Hob there.

He waits it out, content in Hob's embrace, warm, sated, coveted and treasured.

When nature has run its course and Hob's cock at last shrinks from within him, Dream slips free of Hob's corded and clawed arms and out of the bed, turns and leans over Hob's half-shifted form, presses a kiss to the furry slope of his forehead. "Sleep, Hob," he murmurs, breathing his power into it, and Hob's body loses all tension, transforms smoothly and quietly into his full wolf shape. He snuffles into the pillow with a little whine, still deeply asleep; Dream gives him another kiss, this one brushed to his snout, letting Dream's scent waft into his twitching nose. Hob snuffles again, contentedly, and Dream draws up the bedclothes to where Hob can easily reach them when he changes back in the morning. Dream has seen the vague shape of Hob's worries in nightmares, of running rampant, of causing harm; his power will ensure that Hob sleeps soundly through the night, at home and at peace.

He expects to find Hob in his usual human shape when he slips naked back into the Dreaming with the leavings of their lovemaking leaking from his body, but it is Hob's full wolf form that greets him—whining happily, tail wagging, nosing eagerly between Dream's legs to lick at the mess spilling down his thighs. Clearly Hob's appetites are yet unsated, as Dream had hoped, and Dream entertains the thought of kneeling for him just like this, of allowing Hob in wolf form to mount him and claim him while he yet wears his human shape.

But such privilege, he knows, is sweeter if one is made to work for it.

He shapes himself as a wolf, then, sleek and night-shaded where Hob is broad-chested and finely colored, and drops to all fours while Hob is still nosing about his genitals, eagerly scenting and licking. He draws away, presents his backside with tail raised in invitation; he allows Hob a few licks of interest there, where the remnants of their waking tryst have left him wet and open and ready. But when Hob sets paws about his flanks and moves to mount him he jumps away, flicks his tail lightly across Hob's snout and dashes off, checking over his shoulder to see that Hob follows.

Hob is leaping after him in an instant, jaws grinning open; Dream shoots into the underbrush and races deep into the dense woods of Hob's dreamscape, thrilling to the sounds of Hob's pursuit. He leads him a satisfying chase, always barely out of reach among the trees just ahead, tantalizing, a tease, and when Hob howls with exhilaration, Dream echoes him in kind. And when at last he allows Hob to catch him, to wrestle him to the ground with teeth clamped in the fur of his neck, to mount him and fuck him and knot him again, the surrender is all the sweeter for having been earned.

=== Started: 10/13/23 Drafted: 10/31/23 Posted: 11/2/23

Title from the Nightwish song of the same name: You told I had the eyes of the wolf Search them and find The Beauty of the Beast

[hero-of-the-wolf]

The champion still hadn’t returned. Seven hours had passed without so much as a word. Twilight paced back and forth across the perimeter of their camp, worrying his lip. Something bad had happened, he just knew it.

Sure, Wild was a capable young hero. They all were for Hylia’s sake. But that thought did nothing to quell the anxiety that had been gnawing at him all morning and into the afternoon. Wild could communicate through Wind’s weird necklace, shouldn’t he have said something by now?

What if something happened? What if he was hurt? Or worse? What if the longer they waited, the worse things would get for his cub? What if they were already too late? What if—

His head jerked up at the sound of footsteps to see Four approaching him, a determined frown on his face. He grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the woods. “C’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

“But—”

“Shh,” he glanced back and, determining that they were far enough out of earshot, continued, “I think we’ve waited long enough. I bet Wolfie could find him within the hour.”

Oh.

Twilight nodded and gave him a grateful smile. Then he grabbed his necklace and let the shadows engulf him. Wolfie emerged and shook out his fur. He sniffed the air, searching for the champion’s scent.

There.

It was starting to fade by now, but he could still read it clear as day. He barked, alerting Four, and waited impatiently for him to climb onto his back before finally running after the trail.

I’m coming cub. Just hold on.

It led up the mountain. Why’d he come up this way? Was he okay? The higher up they got the more the frigid air bit into his skin. With his thick pelt, it didn’t bother him much, but from his back he could feel the smithy start to shiver.

Wild had been out here for hours.

READ THE REST ON AO3 :)

[chairwritexv]

may I request hcs about the rottmnt boys finding a anxious child reader that is a leatherback sea turtle mutant? Leatherback sea turtles are the biggest sea turtles yet have a softshell with spines and no scutes(basically a more aquatic larger calmer softshell turtle) you don't have to do it if you can't or don't want to!

i am so sorry this took so long!! i took a bit of a break from writing for mental health reasons, but i’m going to try and start opening rqs back up again !! also i just did group headcanons for this one bc i’m still getting back into it plus i couldn’t really think of anything for them individually :,,,) i’m so sorry, i hope you still enjoy it !! ♡

tw ❦ hints to reader being orphaned

platonic ❦ romantic

fandom ❦ rottmnt

ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ

i’d like to think they found you before big mama came into play and they found out about the other yokai

so they were all equally shocked and confused

they found you in an alleyway in the city, somehow you’d gotten to new york from the hidden city

you’d been alone most of your life, and you were constantly anxious and scared

it didn’t help that you were now in a very unfamiliar city, with these very weird looking creatures (humans)

however, you did feel a bit safer around the boys as not only were they yokai, they were also turtle yokai (a type you hadn’t seen much of)

also, because you’re a leatherback (A VERY VERY LARGE TURTLE--), none of them realized you were a child until you told them

you grow up to be bigger than raph lmao-

they collectively decide to take you in

donnie’s a little hesitant at first and kinda seems like he doesn’t like you but he gets used to you and starts to care for you

out of all of them mikey is the most excited and understanding

if you have any sensory issues paired with he anxiety he’ll ask donnie to make you some headphones or whatever you need

donnie will also take a quicker liking to you if you suffer from the sensory issues because he Understands

it takes you awhile to get used to your new home

especially seeing as how the boys hid you from splinter for like a week

ok it was more like three days bc these boys can’t lie for shit

splinter wasn’t very accommodating at first, he didn’t really want to have to take care of another turtle (he barely felt like he was taking care of the boys good enough),, but he eventually caved

♡

sometimes leo can be a bit too loud (which can be triggering for some people depending on the anxiety) so you may tend to avoid him at first

he’s sad bc he doesn’t know why you’re avoiding him

but when he realizes it’s bc he’s being too loud he immediately feels super guilty and tries to stop

obviously he can’t completely stop bc it’s part of his personality, but if you hold your finger to your lips i’m a ‘shh’ gesture he realizes he’s being too loud and he quiets down

mikey can sometimes be too loud too but he usually realizes when he is and can stop a bit easier

anyways they all really love you and you for sure found your forever home <3

hope you enjoyed !

i’m not sure who made these dividers but lemme know so i can credit <3

[l0ve-bug-m1les]

Spider-Band With a S/o Who Hyperfixates on Things Hard

Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, and Pavitr Prabhakar (separate) x Gn!Reader

Warnings: None! (Except my attempt at British talking—)

Summary: Really what the title says—

A/n: This is actually an idea i had when i first fell into the spider verse fandom but didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Glad ya’ll picked this one! Enjoy!! Also lmk if any of ya’ll wanna be on a tag list!! I know i don’t write all that much but still—

Miles Morales 🌻🎧🌻

Bby is here for it

Always listening to what you have to say and never complaining

I have a feeling he’d be just as excited as you even if he’s got no clue what you’re talking about

He’d try to get into your interests with you no matter how outlandish they may seem

(I mean he’s basically a spider what’s so weird about fnaf lore—)

Definitely draws you things based off of the subject

“You said they were your favorite, right?”

Is always sending you memes and funny videos about your interest

Asks you for updates on your interest if it’s a series

Holds you when something bad happens and you’re sad

“Shh, shh…Hey, at least they existed, right?—Oh, no that made it worse—“

Going back to rambles, he’s always listening but maybe not always looking at you

But trust me

That boy could recite what you say perfectly

He just likes to listen while he works or draws

Has definitely made a mural of you and him in the world together (used it as a date spot. It’s true, he told me)

Overall

20/10 boyfriend

(I mean they all are but like—)

Hobie Brown 🎸⚡️🎸

Will spend hours learning songs related to your interest

But then he’s like

“What? Oh, i been knowin’ this song, luv. What’re ya on about?”

Say for instance, you dive deep into an artist or band

Obviously, Hobie’s gonna ask you about them

But would never ask you for your favorite songs because he’s “Too busy writing his own”

So he just pays really close attention to the songs you talk the most about

(As i previously stated, he learns them all and plays it off)

When you figure it out he’s just like:

“Took ya long enough, luv”

He also listens to your rants about whatever it is (much like Miles and everyone else here but shhh)

But here’s why he stands out

This man can keep up

He can and will remember all about it, and basically know about much as you do

Steals things from stores that are from the series or whatever it is

“Hobie, how’d you get this?” “It was on display and i knew you’d love it.” “Wow! I thought you didn’t buy things from brands..” “…” “You stole it…”

You’re too busy loving whatever it is to stay mad

(But we all knew you weren’t mad)

If you think your interest is cringey then you’re WRONG

“But it’s for kids—“ “And? So what?” “Well…uhm….hm.” “Yeah. Thought so. Now keep goin’, I’m invested.”

(But also in general, bby. Love what you love and come to me if anyone says it “weird” or “cringey”. I’ll beat them up bestie<33)

All in all, a king<33

Gwen Stacy 🩰🥁🩰

I’m gonna be honest

She is lost

Even if you go over things twenty times she still won’t get it

And that’s okay!

She takes notes and tries to keep up

Definitely proud of herself when she gets a detail right

“And then—“ “Wait, wait. Let me guess…He…he burned the pizzeria down, right” “Uhm—yeah, actually!” “*insert proud face*”

(Woah look at the trans flag colors^^^)

Definitely binge watches or reads your interest and learns as much as she can

She keeps a notebook full of her notes that she refers back to whenever you two are on call

She played it off as writing down some notes for school

But one day, she asked you to grab her suit from inside her drum set, and you found the notebook

It caught your eye because it had the name of your interest on it and you were like:

“Hey, Gwen? What’s this?” You showed her the notebook

I wish you could see my vision

When i tell you Gwen stood there for a good minute

I mean she stood there for several

Anywho

She just admitted to it and was all red and fidgety

Since this is her world, she was cast in mostly pink and red hues and the space around her fluttered yellow

You end up going through it with her, and talk about your favorite bits

Overall? She deserves several gold stars and cookies

Pavitr Prabhakar 🍵☀️🍵

Bby is here for it

Whenever you get excited he’s excited

When you’re on the verge of tears he’s already crying

He is your favorite character’s number one supporter

He’s always going on and on with you about your interests

Because unlike the others, he manages to actually get into whatever it is you’re talking about and not just keep up

It’s honestly a skill of his

I feel like Pav also has special interests that he dives deep into

Like

Deep deep

Same as you so you two get along well :D

He’s always looking for the newest content and sending it to you always

“Hey! They said the next episode would be released next Tuesday!! :DDD” “There’s a new theory for the last volume!”

It’d be cute if that’s how you met and became friends

You spend sleepovers diving into your shared and separate interests with eachother

You know what’d be funny?

If he also info dumps onto the villains he fights

Like

Hear me out

Pav tying up a villain who tried to rob a place and just going

“Yeah, so me and my partner have a theory for why—“

And the villain is just like

Stfu??????

But they’d never say that because it’s Spider-Man

All in all, your number one hype man and best friend :]

———————————-

YA’LL I DID IT :DD

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Eyes and Ears

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: An AU where Barbara finds Jason instead of Bruce.

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Jim Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character(s), Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Older SIbling Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd-centric, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Jason Todd is NOT Robin, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Has a Crush, Adopted Siblings

Chapter Three: Michigan Style

When Barbara and Jason got home, Jim was gone. He'd left a note saying that he would be back late. Jason and Barbara had dinner, and she went out as Batgirl. Jason tried to sleep, but he found himself tossing and turning. Jason rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He warmed the milk on the stove, and he read through one of his library books. Jim came in from work and locked eyes with Jason. "Oh, hey there. I wanted to talk to you..."

Jason's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, and he swallowed hard. "You want me to leave?" Jason asked. Jim shook his head.

"No, I don't want you to leave, son... I just wanted to know if you knew where your birth certificate was," Jim replied. Jason shook his head. "Well, Jason... The thing is, I went looking for it, and I found it. Eleven-forty-nine p.m. in Gotham City Hospital—."

"Yeah," Jason interrupted to move Jim forward.

"What is your mother's name?" Jim asked.

"Catherine," Jason answered. Jim took a deep breath. "That's her name. I'm not lying," Jason raised his voice slightly, and Jim gestured for him to keep his volume down.

"No, I know you're not lying. I just wanted to make this easy on you... I just don't know how to put it. Jason, your mother's name is Sheila Haywood—."

"So what if she went by a different name? It doesn't mean—."

"I don't think you understand. Sheila Haywood is a different person, and that after a bit of digging, I found out that she has been missing since you were a baby," Jim whispered, "Jason... Look—."

Jason's head started to spin, and he turned the fire off on the stove and went back to his room to lie down. Jim turned the milk on and finished making the tea. He made two cups and knocked on Jason's door. "Jason, it's chamomile," Jim whispered. Jason took a shaky breath and wiped tears from his eyes. "I'm so sorry, son..."

"Catherine is my mom," Jason cried as he faced the wall. Jim crouched by Jason's bed and sat the mug down on Jason's nightstand.

"Yes, yes she is. Jason, nothing changes that... It's just that I wanted you to know because if I do find her—."

"Why do you think she disappeared?" Jason asked as he sat up and wiped his tears away. Jim waited for Jason to take a sip of his tea.

"I don't know," Jim whispered. Jason continued to sip his tea, and Jim wrung his hands. "Babs said you went to work with her. How was that?"

Jason shrugged. "What'd she say to you? How'd she make you let me stay here?" Jason asked. Jim smiled.

"She said that someone has to look out for you... You know she must see something special in you to fight for you like that," Jim answered him. "I want you to know that this can be your home too if you want it to be."

Jason set the mug on the nightstand and lay down facing Jim. "We'll see, Commissioner... We'll see," Jason mumbled.

"Goodnight," Jim murmured.

Jason drifted off to sleep only to be startled awake by Barbara. "Hush... Jason, shh," Barbara whispered. Jason clutched his chest and grimaced at her.

"What?" he mouthed angrily.

"I thought you were crying, so I came to wake you up. I'm sorry," Barbara apologized. Jason closed his eyes and sank back into his pillow. Barbara fixed his blankets and went back across the hall.

Jason slept until noon the next day, and when he woke up, he searched for Barbara but found Jim instead. "Babs is at work, so it's just you and me for right now," Jim explained. Jason's face went grim. "I was just about to sit and watch tv... D'you like action movies?"

Jason nodded. "I'm gonna go brush my teeth," Jason replied. Jim nodded. "Hey... If you find her, would it be okay for me to meet her?"

Jim nodded. "If I find Sheila, I wouldn't think to keep you from her," Jim replied. Jason grinned and turned back, and went to the bathroom. Jim went to the kitchen, boiled hot dogs, and put on a can of chili. He wasn't quite sure what to say to Jason, but he had to admit it did feel nice to have a child in the house.

Jason stepped out of the bathroom and met Jim in the kitchen. "Can I help?" Jason asked. Jim nodded.

"Wanna get the chips and put the sodas on the table?" Jim requested. "You look a lot like him."

"I know... Everyone says I look like him," Jason mumbled. He hated to hear it most of the time, but he had to admit it was nice for Jim to acknowledge that Jason had a family before he got there. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"You're just a kid... And I know how easy it can be to get into trouble as a kid when there's no one to look after you," Jim explained. Jason cocked his head. "Don't look at me like that. I got in my fair share of trouble when I was your age." Jim chuckled, and Jason grinned. "What'd you say to Babs to get her to like you so much?"

"I don't know... I wish I did. She sort of tricked me into coming here, but I'm glad she did," Jason answered with a sweet-natured shrug.

Jim stirred the chili and shrugged in return. "Is the movie rated R?" Jason asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"PG-13," Jim held back his laugh as he made their chili dogs and put them on a platter. "Do you wanna get two plates for the table?"

Jason nodded and grabbed the plates, and set them down on the coffee table. Jim set the platter down and turned the movie on. Jason started eating, and Jim poured a few chips onto Jason's plate. "He's odd, isn't he?" Jim asked, and Jason giggled. They both started laughing. "Wanna finish off the chili?"

Jason nodded, and Jim got up and went to the kitchen. "Want me to pause the movie?" Jason asked. Jim shook his head, and Jason poured a few more chips onto their plates. Jim gave Jason a bowl of chili, and they went back to watching the movie.

When they were more than halfway through the movie, Jim got a call from Barbara. "Hey, Pumpkin," Jim greeted her.

"Is Jason okay?" Barbara asked. "I didn't want to wake him up again... Otherwise I would've taken him with me—."

"We're just watching a movie," Jim paused and glanced over at Jason. "It's Barbara. She wants to know if you're doing alright." Jason smiled at him.

"Tell her I'm having fun," Jason smiled. Jim grinned and nodded.

"He said he's having fun," Jim repeated for Barbara.

"That's good... Um, I'm sorry you had to watch him on your day off," she apologized.

"Don't worry about it. Jason's great," Jim reassured her. She let out a sigh of relief. "Don't worry. He's fine. Enjoy your lunch."

"Thanks, Dad. See you later," Barbara replied before hanging up. Jim looked over at Jason.

"Like it or not, I think you've got yourself a sister," Jim joked, "She was worried about you."

Jason looked up from his bowl of chili, and he wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the right words. "You said I was great," Jason whispered, "Is she worried that I'll get on your nerves?"

Jim shook his head. "No, I think she's worried that I'll get on your nerves. Or maybe she's afraid she'll come back, and you'll be old and boring like me," Jim joked. Jason snorted before letting out a laugh. "See, I told Babs I was funny." Jason shook his head.

"Just old," Jason joked, and Jim playfully nudged him.

They finished watching the movie, and Jason offered to do the dishes. Jim said no at first, but Jason insisted. While Jason cleaned up, Jim started preparing dinner.

"This is nice... I wasn't sure if I should say anything at first, but with Barbara being so busy sometimes, it's nice to have another kid in the house," Jim confessed. Jason frowned, and Jim thought that he'd said something wrong.

Jason wanted it to feel normal, but he knew how good new things could seem. He knew how horrible things could get once the newness faded, so he said nothing.