#one day. i will change that tag. but that day is not today.

[uncookedfeeler]

CITRUS I🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 4k, light smut, incest,

Part 2??

Parenting is one of life's most transformative experiences. It is a journey filled with joy, growth, challenges and the commitment to raise and guide another human being. From the moment a child is born into the world, parents find themselves on a rollercoaster ride of endless new experiences, emotional highs and lows, and unwavering love.

Parents are caregivers, teachers and coaches, constantly trying to decipher their child's needs and feelings. While the joys of parenting are many, the challenges can be daunting. From sleepless nights with a newborn to the complexities of teenage rebellion, each stage of a child's development brings its own set of hurdles.

After more than fifty years on this planet, half of them with your wife, you're lucky enough to have a 20-year-old girl as your child. From day one she has been the ray of sunshine that lights up your life. She is the person you love most and will remain your most precious treasure until your last breath. But your relationship has changed a lot over the years. Your little princess has gone from being Daddy's little girl to a gorgeous woman who has been driving a wedge between you since she was a teenager. 

This distance has increased since she became a famous idol and now lives between the dormitory and your house, although she only stays when she wants to. 

As usual, you come home from work late in the evening and enter the lock code to get into your house. Unlike before, the lights are still out and the house is deserted. You leave your keys on the hall stand and walk into the living room, closing the SAS door behind you.

You sigh as you walk through the living room to your bedroom, the room a bit messy with some of your dirty clothes from the night before still on the tripod, you sit down on your bed to remove your tie and finally free your neck, your suit disappears and you put on more relaxed clothes. At the same time, your phone rings and you see the name of one of your colleagues on the display:

"Sorry to call so late, hope I'm not disturbing you?" says a soft voice at the other end of the line.

"Not at all, Mrs Bae, I just got home, what can I do for you?" you reply, laughing.

"The CEO wants to see you in his office tomorrow, he came by earlier but you already left, he said he wants to talk about the last contract you secured". 

"Ahahah, the old man already knows it seems, ok ok, noted I'll meet him tomorrow, have a good night Ms.Bae".

"You too, Director"

You put your phone on the bed before returning to the kitchen to prepare your meal and pour yourself a well-deserved beer. With your face still in the fridge, you hear the front door open and a familiar voice echo through the room with a simple "I'm home, I'm tired! "

You immediately know who it is and reply, "Welcome my darling, good to see you home, how was your day, are you hungry?"

Without answering, you see a young woman with red hair jumping onto the sofa. 

"Yuna, please take off your shoes before entering the house, and at least take off your jacket, it's quite warm in the house," you begin to reproach your only child.

"Daddy, please don't start, I've already lost my mind today with the girls, leave me alone!" the young woman cries in obvious annoyance.

The routine is back and you make the effort to take off her shoes while she is lying on her stomach on the sofa, you notice her outfit for the day, a black leather jacket hiding a nice white t-shirt and beige trousers, so you take the opportunity to complicate your princess. 

"That's a nice outfit, darling."

"Thank you," she replies, blushing.

You put the shoes down in the hallway next to yours and see her already absorbed in her phone, so you try to get the conversation going again:

"What happened to make my little Yuna so upset?" you say.

"I'm not 13 anymore, Dad, you can call me by my first name".

"Ah ah, sorry, Yuna".

"Those bitches stole my concept for the shoot, we had to choose a fruit and we had matching colour outfits, during the pre-shoot meeting we agreed and as luck would have it today they used their "maknae shoot last" rule and took my fruit!!! "

"Please don't shout, so what happened after that?" you try to calm her down.

"What do you think, I got to the shoot and all that was left were shitty concepts, seriously, who the fuck thinks it's sexy to have a lemon in the middle of a t-shirt, they're going to laugh so hard at me for the pictures, I'm so ashamed, I left right after the shoot," she says as she stands up and faces you.

You can see the sadness in her eyes and you want to hug her and tell her that everything will be fine, but now that she's looking at you, you realise that she probably forgot to take off the famous shirt and with great regret you put a big smile on your face, almost on the verge of tears.

"No, darling, I'm sure it's a great shirt," you reply with difficulty.

"PAPA!!!, WHY ARE YOU SNIGGERING?" the young idol cries before following your eyes to her T-shirt, her face falling as she finally realises the reason, you're so sorry, but the situation is really too funny.

As you wipe your eyes you see your princess's blood red eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks and she slaps you hard in the face "I FUCKING HATE YOU, JUST FUCKING DIE YOU AND MOM" before running into her room, 

For the second time in your life you feel that pain, the pain you feel when you hurt someone you love, just like your wife did 7 years ago. 

The pain on your cheek is almost non-existent, unlike the pain in your heart. You admit that Yuna has become very withdrawn since your wife's departure, and that your clumsiness with her has hurt her before, but never to this extent.

On the one hand, your authority has been challenged once again, and for the first time she's dared to raise a hand to you. On the other hand, there is a deep sadness that hurts you, but also makes you deeply regret your actions.

You hear your daughter's cries through the door and, with a feeble step, you knock on the door before entering.

"Baby....i'm so sorry" you see her lying on her bed, her head in her pillow, her crying stops when she raises her head and looks at you, her face is turned upside down, her make-up has run down her face. Seeing your child like that tears your heart out, even though you're responsible.

"Just go, just go like Mum, you don't even like me, do you? I'm ashamed of you, go and die," she said in a cold, mean tone.

"Baby... "Hearing these words from your little princess hurts and brings tears to your eyes, so you get down on your knees to continue your apology.

"Forgive me," you tell her as your tears begin to fall, Yuna continues to reject you and her words only drive nails into your feelings, you've surely done the irreparable and you decide to get up and leave her room.

You have ruined your last family relationship with the person who meant the most to you. 

"I'll bring you dinner later, just rest," you say in an emotionless tone as you grab the door handle to leave.

Your steps towards the living room are slow and your body heavy, only to suddenly hear someone running behind you, the door slamming against the wall, and feel your sweet daughter's body against your back as she tries to wrap her arms around you.

"PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME SORRY," the red one cries with all her hot tears.

You drop to your knees and take your only child in your arms and hold her close, her head is under your chin as she buries herself in your neck, you stroke her head with one hand while the other pats her back, her arms struggle to wrap around your waist but she clings tightly to you.

"I'm sorry darling, I'm sorry for everything, just let it go now, Daddy's here, I won't leave you, ever"

"Daddy, I'm sorry, I love you"

"I love you too, sweetheart"

You stay like this for many minutes before you plant a loving kiss on her forehead, a sign of your unconditional love for her. She's your treasure and the most important woman in your life.

Yuna's red eyes shine into yours and the young idol plants her lips on yours, the sensation is sweet and pleasant, you are morally in a dilemma, never in a million years would you have imagined kissing your daughter like this, but on the other hand you tell yourself that she's probably had too much rejection for today and is just trying to express her love for me. 

You allow your daughter to express her desires and she wraps her arms around your neck as you hold her kiss, her tongue meets yours in a first dance, the heat in the corridor rises as her body crashes against yours, you feel her small breasts against your chest and her perfume floods your nostrils.

"Yu..na," you try to stop her, tapping her shoulder as she literally tries to eat your lips.

The young idol slowly pulls back, leaving a trickle of drool between your two mouths. You see an incredibly sexy woman, her hair a mess, her breathing heavy and hot, her hands on your chest burning and her eyes devouring you like a hungry tigress.

"The redhead doesn't know what to say when she realises what she's done, her face turning scarlet as she rests her forehead on your shoulder.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault, are you tired?

She nods as you carry her to her room and tuck her into bed, one last kiss before sending your little princess off to dreamland.

"Good night, baby," you say to her as she seems to have gone far away.

.

.

.

The night was harder than expected, and after a light dinner you went to bed with your head still full of the events of the evening, a flurry of emotions running through your body and mind, and faster than you could have imagined, the morning light appeared through your window.

It's almost 7am and you're getting ready for a long day. As soon as you wake up, your body starts to show its age and it takes you a long time to get dressed and get out of your room and into the kitchen. You decide on a quick, simple breakfast of fried egg and rice, and with this morning's appointment, you'll be ready to go in no time, having filled up on vitamins for the day despite your fatigue. As you prepare this, you hear Yuna's bedroom door open and see your daughter come into the kitchen, still wearing her white T-shirt, but her beige trousers have been replaced by blue shorts.

"Morning dad," she says shyly.

"Hi honey, no schedule today?"

"Not this morning," she replies quickly, shaking her head.

Neither of you seem comfortable with the conversation and you do your best to avoid meeting her gaze and vice versa. You discreetly exchange glances and smiles, the redhead in front of you is beautiful and you find yourself ogling her.

You continue to prepare breakfast, making sure you have enough for your daughter. The only exchange you've had since is asking her if she wants a coffee, which she refuses. You see her hovering around the table as if she wants to talk, then she finally gets up and goes behind your back to the fridge.

Then you look back over your shoulder, feel Yuna's embrace around your waist as she buries her face in your back, feel the warmth of her breath again and put your hands on hers.

"Are you all right, darling?"

"I'm sorry dad, my head has been on fire since yesterday, my body has been on fire since I saw you this morning, I just wanted to tell you that I love you very much," she answers as she places kisses on your spine.

You feel the tenderness of her lips on your skin as Yuna gently lifts your work shirt, you say nothing, letting your daughter express her feelings as Yuna's gentle attacks send electric shocks down your back.

"Please look at me," she says as she forces you to turn around, pulling you by your hips until your bottom is resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, face to face with your daughter, who is staring at you for the first time this morning.

Her eyes were trembling and she asked you in a soft, frightened voice: "Tell me you love me, Daddy", while she pressed her body against yours. You felt her soft breasts against your chest and she put her hands on the back of your neck. Your daughter brings her lips to yours, her eyes closed, waiting for you to confirm your feelings.

At this point your morality as a father is the only obstacle standing in the way of this relationship, your daughter may not realise it but it is an immoral relationship waiting to happen, your daughter is still looking for a way to fill the hole in her heart, the love of her members doesn't seem to be working for her and now she is relying on you, her father, to give her what she needs, it is a difficult choice but you are letting yourself be swallowed by the devil, your daughter's happiness is what matters.

You cupped her cheek with one hand before pressing your lips to hers as Yuna melted under the pressure of her emotions, you rediscovered the sensation of love and laid your daughter on the counter while maintaining the kiss.

Your daughter is now sitting on the worktop, the difference in height bringing her face level with yours, she grabs the back of your hair to pull you towards her, her legs wrapped around your hips, your lips still locked as your tongues meet again.

When the seal is finally broken, both your breaths are heavy and noisy, each under the hypnosis of its own pleasure, while your eyes are full of sparkles and plunge into each other's. Your princess's eyes shed small tears, which you hastily wipe away with your finger before giving her a long kiss on the forehead.

Daddy, my heart is going to explode,' she says as she takes your hand to her breast with her t-shirt, the feeling is even better than you had imagined, her small breasts are firm and pleasant to touch, as you gently knead her breasts, the young woman makes little moans that express the pleasure she is receiving.

"Yuna... do you like what Daddy is doing?"

She nods "I want to feel your hand on my skin," she replies as she takes both your hands and places them under her t-shirt, right on her breasts.

"Do you like my lemons daddy? squeeze them hard please" Yuna's sexy face and her words echo in your brain as your hands work on her juicy fruit.

The tension in the room rises and you place your mouth on her little lemon, which you have been kneading for a few minutes, you attack her nipple with your tongue while you suck, hoping to suck something, you alternate your hands, now covered with little red spots, your daughter moans with pleasure and prevents you from withdrawing.

"Daddy, suck on them, play with my little lemons that you love so much, they're yours".

All this excitement had made you hot and a knot had formed in your trousers. Your lips left her two Susson-marked mounds and now attacked her defenceless neck, licking it from bottom to top, following her carotid artery and planting long kisses under her jaw, making her tremble before she gently pushed you away.

"Dad, let me take care of you too, I've been feeling your lump on my leg for a while now".

Your daughter begins to unbuckle your belt, then your trousers, until she can finally see your underpants and cock. Then your daughter puts her hand on the front of your briefs to rub your cock, and you see her other hand go down her shorts, probably to check the state of her briefs.

"I'm soaking wet, keep playing with my tits and come and touch me down there while I take care of you".

Your daughter's hand reaches through your shorts and grabs your cock to stroke it gently, on your side you slide one of your hands up her thigh to her panties and rub her slit directly against her skin, she's wet and you can feel a small bush above her entrance, you wiggle your fingers up and down, taking the opportunity to go back and kiss your princess who moans at your actions.

Yuna's technique isn't the best, but who can blame her, the poor thing is fighting against her own body and the way she arched her back as you delicately knocked on her pussy door, freeing her lips from your kiss, the young idol expressed with volume what she was feeling,

♥Hmm....♥Ah....Papa, continue ♥Hmm, ah....♥

Your daughter's moans are like music to your ears and she quickly lets you know that her orgasm is coming as your fingers begin to penetrate her pussy from the inside, you feel little spasms running down her body and her pussy dripping with wetness, as you pull your fingers out you see the deception in her eyes before devouring her with your mouth, forcing her to let go of your cock in the process. 

Your cock is extremely hard after Yuna's work but your pleasure is not your priority as your tongue slides up and down your daughter's slit, her juices are delicious and you suck them in to capture the taste of her naughty hole in your memory. Her grip on your thin hair is powerful and she blocks your head with her legs as you finally hear the release.

"Daddy, I'm going to come, it's happening, da..." before she can finish her own sentence, stopped by her pleasure, Yuna comes all over your now wet face and falls onto her back on the worktop.

"Are you OK, sweetie?" you ask her, a little worried as she suddenly falls backwards, the pressure of her legs freeing you and you see a close-up of your daughter lying on her back in front of you, her face red and wrung out, her hair falling in the air on the other side of the table, her breasts exposed and marked by your many hickeys and her pretty pink pussy that you've just finished devouring.

You grab both her hands and pull her towards you so that she's at your full height, then you take her in your arms as if you were comforting a small child.

"You're so hard daddy, you can do it if you want to," she says with a little hesitation and tired eyes, then you notice that your cock is at the same height as her pussy.

The choice seems obvious but at the same time you don't want to take it lightly and spoil the moment, the lack of time and place is not what you want to give your princess who is offering herself to you so you shake your head in refusal then plant a long kiss on her lips.

"Not now baby, another time," you reply as you start to pull away from her, only to feel her hand holding you back.

"At least let me make you feel better, I want to make you feel better too," she says as she grabs your cock and starts to jerk it like before.

"Do you like it when I rub your naughty cock? Why does a father turn on his daughter so much?" Yuna tries to be provocative to arouse you, but the tone is off and her lack of experience is glaring, you just smile under your daughter's true words.

Your orgasm builds as Yuna experiments with your cock, trying to give you as much pleasure as possible. You put your hands on her tits again and play with them, which doesn't seem to bother her, far from it.

.

.

"Daddy?"

.

.

"Yes, sweetie?

.

.

"You know ... if you want my lemons to give you their juice, you'll have to give me yours first," she said, pointing to her pussy.

The image crosses your mind, the image of a father and daughter kissing the fruit of their forbidden love, a father giving his love to his daughter and a daughter giving birth to that love, your excitement and shame explode as your cock comes to paint the lower part of your daughter's body, her pussy and thighs marked by your essence.

I'm sorry, I'll clean you up,' you say, looking for something to wipe your cum-filled daughter with.

"It's OK, I'll do it myself,' she says as she scoops up the white liquid and brings it to her mouth.

Any young man would have been revitalised to see such a beautiful woman collecting cum on her body, but your cock is now in a less than glorious state and you pull up your trousers, taking care to get dressed.

"It's almost time darling, I have to go," you tell her as you haven't eaten or slept well, it's going to be a long day.

"Wait," she replies as she approaches you, still naked, "don't forget my goodbye kiss," as she presses her lips hard against yours, then whispers, "we'll continue tonight, I love you.

Your body and mind may be in bad shape, but knowing your princess will be there for you tonight fills your heart with a feeling you've been missing.

Later, in your car on the way to work, you get a notification that someone you're following has just started a live stream, obviously it's Yuna, she's the only one you follow, you pick up the stream on the way, but enough to hear your daughter say

My favourite fruit? mhhhhhhhhhh that's a good question, I'll go with lemon, it's a sweet fruit like me and TMI, but my dad loves lemons'.

______________________________________________________________

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: cute silly little gesture from drewseph 😋 progress progress

one | two | three | four | five | six

authors note: this is just part 2 of day 2 so i’ll incorporate the movie night in the next part fs. let me know if u still want to be added to the tag list through replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

you’re awoken by the light coming in through the blinds. it’s subtle, but it’s there. it bothers you and causes you to stir awake.

you can hear drew snoring—a habit you know all too well, but you ignore it. your eyes flutter open as you look around the room, then you look at him.

he’s dead asleep, but he’s on his stomach, his face parallel to yours. his mouth is a little open and one of his arms is underneath his pillow, hoisting him slightly higher, while his other is reaching toward your side of the bed.

you yawn as you twist your body and grab your phone off the nightstand, then check the time. it’s already noon. the others must be up and awake by now.

you drop your phone on your lap and use that hand to shake drew awake gently, but when he doesn’t wake up the first time is when you get a little rougher.

“star,” you tell him, in hopes that he gets up at least now or soon. you don’t want either of you to miss any of the plans going on that day. “wake up, come on,” you say, and drew’s eyes open once before he closes them again, and his legs move underneath the blanket slowly. he’s waking up.

“mmh,” he moans, and because his eyes are closed you know that he’s trying to fall back asleep. you retract your arm and get up from the bed. you figure he’ll wake up anyway, he knows he has to.

you walk over to the door and open it, then peek your head out into the hall. you look around for anyone, but all you find is theo walking upstairs to his and leila’s room with two plates of food.

“hey,” you say, then pause to clear your throat. you’ve already caught theo’s attention. “what are we doing today?”

theo shakes his head, his mouth full of his piece of toast. “not today,” his words are difficult to understand so he drops the piece of toast on one of the plates. “tonight. leila has this checklist that’s guiding our everyday, and she said she’s been wanting to just stay in one night, relax, watch some movies. it’s gonna be chill, but it’s only that.”

you nod, patting the doorframe twice. “thank you,” you say, then pull back into your room as you add, “and good morning!”

“‘morning,” theo says, and you close the door gently.

when you turn around you see that drew’s awake. or at least he’s changed positions. he’s lying on his side now, facing you again. you watch him as you return to your side of the bed. he has to flip onto his other side again when you even leave his sight.

“free day until movie night tonight. leila’s orders,” you say, and there’s a small smile on his face before he rubs his eyes with his palm. you look around the bed for your phone with a frown, “could sleep in ‘til tonight if we wanted to.”

“we?” he asks, and it’s like he’s caught you already suggesting plans for the both of you.

“if i . . . wanted to,” you correct yourself, then pause for a moment while you rub the back of your neck, looking away. “libby did say she could help me with some audition tapes today though.”

drew groans, stuffing his head back into his pillow. “why are you working during the two weeks we’re supposed to do anything but that?” he whines, as if you’re dragging him along to do it too.

you shrug, “some people are expected to book their next role as soon as possible. now that tempest is over, i want to start working on my next big thing.”

“tempest was the next big thing, you won an mtv award for it,” drew reminds you.

you think back to your tv series that had went on for six years, a good chunk of your life, before it ended just recently with its final season. tempest is the reason why you met drew in the first place—he shared his praise for your lead role at one of his movie premieres years and years ago.

you shake your head at him. “okay,” you say, deciding to get up and out of bed.

“where are you going?”

“i’m not gonna work but i’m not just gonna lay around in bed all day,” you tell him, and you leave the room to freshen up in the bathroom.

you hear a few footsteps that descend the staircase and you can’t help but peer over your shoulder to see who it is. it’s oscar. you’re seated at the kitchen island, and he’s just minding his own business as he retrieves something from his backpack it seems like, then he looks to you.

he’s kind. there’s a genuine smile on his face as he nods his head at you. “good morning,” he says.

he turns to leave and you try to return it, “good morning.” you clear your throat as you continue to watch him head upstairs. from there, you can see someone walking across the hall, just from their feet.

you can recognize his patterned socks. it’s drew.

“hey!” leila’s voice is a jumpscare and you can’t help but react quickly, facing forward like you’re a child getting caught stealing candy. leila laughs when she realizes she scared you. “sorry . . . i thought you heard me come in. are you ready?”

you’re dressed to go out to town, as leila said earlier that she wanted to visit the local market nearby. you nod your head at her and shuffle off of the chair.

“who’s driving?” drew asks as he jogs down the stairs and pulls his crewneck over his head. you barely cast a glance at his body before you look into his eyes, and he walks over. “am i?”

“yes—” leila tries to say before you cut in.

“you’re coming with us?” you ask. you don’t necessarily have a problem with it, it’s just why was it kept from you?

“problem?”

“i don’t know. is there one?” you furrow your eyebrows at him and tilt your head to the side, but you realize the way you’re talking to him.

he squints his eyes at you in question, then glances up at leila. he’s not sure whether you're teasing him or not, but he lets out a short, awkward laugh. “okay, let’s not get dramatic,” he says lightly.

leila, sensing the unease, smiles as she steps in. “i figured we could all go together! it’s a trio outing now! plus, you two are joined at the hip anyway.” she says it like it's the most natural thing, blissfully unaware of how the statement lands between you and drew.

you swallow the discomfort and force a smile as you get off the chair, grabbing your bag. drew’s eyes linger on you for a moment before he turns and follows you both out the door.

“careful,” he warns you about your blatant attitude.

you know he’s right, and you mutter out, “sorry.”

the car hums as you’re driven down to the beach market, then get out to enter. it’s not a huge deal being seen out in public together—you’ve done this before. but of course it’s different now. there’s something strange about holding drew’s hand when you know, deep down, it’s all for show. but you don't pull away.

when you reach the town, you spot a few people recognizing you—actors always catch eyes, even in quieter towns like this one. drew stays close, his hand still gripping yours, a comfortable smile playing on his lips as the three of you wander around.

a couple of fans approach you, their faces lighting up at the sight of you and drew together. “oh my god, i loved you two in hellraiser! this feels like a dream," one of them gushes, and for a split second, you feel drew’s hand squeeze yours tighter.

you try to play it off, laughing softly as you and him pose for a quick picture with the younger girl.

after, drew steps beside you, leaning forward with his hands behind his back as a few record him. “we’re glad you enjoyed it,” he says, flashing his grin. you feel a familiar flutter in your stomach, a reminder of all those moments you used to share during press events like this.

another girl beams, and what seems like her mother is standing there with her, “you look even prettier in person! can we take another photo?”

“of course!” you laugh, and you part from drew to tend to the few of them.

drew is just standing a few feet away, his gaze locked on you. his expression is unreadable—something between admiration and something deeper, something heavier.

leila catches onto his lingering stare, and she approaches him with a smirk, nudging his arm. “you’re staring,” she teases, her tone light. drew blinks and breaks his gaze, glancing down at leila like he’s been caught.

“was not,” he mutters. his eyes flick back to you for a second, but he quickly looks away again.

leila’s inspecting a few trinkets before glancing back at him, a knowing look on her face. “you’re a terrible liar, you know,” she says. “you’re staring, and don’t think i didn’t notice at the firepit either.”

drew shifts uncomfortably, trying to find a way to defend himself. “okay, well yeah, because she’s my girlfriend!” he says a little too loud, and even you look up at him and furrow your eyebrows before returning to what you’re doing.

“okay, i’m joking. god, please lighten up. you can stare at your girlfriend all you want. who cares?” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “is everything good with you two?”

drew hesitates, glancing over at you as you smile politely at another fan. “yeah, everything’s fine,” he says, the words coming out too quickly. “why wouldn’t it be?”

leila narrows her eyes, watching him closely. “i don’t know, you’re acting a little . . . weird. normally, you’re more laid-back when she’s off and doing stuff on her own. but lately, you’ve been all . . . protective. intense, even.” she pauses, studying his face. “is something going on?”

he rubs the back of his neck. “no, we’re good. we’re good.”

leila hums, her fingers tracing one of the bracelets on a stall table. “you know, i talked to y/n last night,” she says carefully, her voice soft. “she said you guys have been stressed with work lately, but that everything’s good between you. still . . . i don’t know, something feels off. you both seem a little . . . distant.” she gives him a gentle nudge. “i’m not trying to pry, but i just want to make sure you’re okay. i already asked her, so now i’m asking you.”

drew stiffens slightly, but forces a small laugh, trying to brush it off. “yeah, work has been a lot lately. it’s probably just that—stress, you know? juggling schedules, auditions, appearances . . . it’s hard to get time for ourselves.”

“i get that. trust me, theo and i have been there too with our careers. it can get messy, but...” she trails off, giving him a sincere look. “you and y/n have always had something really special. and i know it’s not my business, but if something’s really bothering you—or her—you guys should talk it out. don’t let it fester.”

he shifts on his feet, the words striking closer than he’d like. he nods, though, appreciating her concern. “yeah, you’re right. i know we need to talk more, make time for that.”

leila smiles, “good. i’m here for both of you, okay? if you need to blow off steam or talk, don’t hesitate. i can tell there’s more going on than just ‘work stress,’ but i trust you’ll figure it out.”

drew forces a grin, trying to play it cool. “thanks, lei. we’ll be fine.”

leila holds his gaze for a moment longer, then nods as she steps back toward the vendor. “you better be. you guys are a strong power couple around here,” she jokes lightly.

as she glances over drew’s shoulder, her gaze settles on a nearby flower shop across the street. she doesn’t say anything, but her eyes linger, then shift back to him. there’s a soft smile playing on her lips, and she raises her brows in a silent suggestion.

he follows her line of sight, his eyes landing on the shop. it takes him a second, but he gets it. leila doesn’t need to say the words. he knows exactly what she’s trying to tell him.

“really?” he asks, dropping his smile. “you’re playing wingman?”

“wingwoman, but you know.” she gives a small, almost teasing shrug. “i mean, they’re her favorite, right? might not fix everything, but it’s a start. little things, drew.”

his eyes flick back to the shop, an old habit of buying you flowers bubbling up in his chest. “yeah, she always liked those kinds of flowers,” he murmurs, half to himself.

he nods, muttering a quiet “thanks” under his breath, as leila gives him a knowing smile before turning back to browse a nearby stall.

drew makes his way over to the flower shop, eyes scanning for your favorite blooms. the vendor helps him put together a simple yet thoughtful bouquet, and drew can't help but feel anxious but hopeful.

a few minutes later, he looks for you amongst everyone. you’ve already found leila, as you two inspect something on a stand just a few stalls down. you must not have seen drew when he was handling the flowers.

he makes his way over, and his presence is warm behind you that causes you to peer over your shoulder. you’re startled when you realize there’s actually someone there, and he’s so close. you immediately notice the flowers.

your eyebrows lift in amusement as he grins. “oh, what’s this?” you ask, your tone teasing, though there's a flicker of surprise behind your eyes.

drew holds the bouquet out, his voice soft. “for you,” he says. “maybe to make the day a little better.”

you look at the flowers, hesitating for a second before taking them. there’s a small warmth in your chest that you try to suppress, but it shows in the way your lips twitch upward into a faint smile. “thank you,” you say quietly, studying the flowers briefly before your gaze shifts back to him.

you can’t help but wrap your open arm around his neck and pull him close. his gesture is sweet and unexpected. drew’s arms finds your waist before he’s hugging you back, even tighter, but trying to be polite with how long he squeezes you.

you feel bold, and you lean away from him before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. it’s brief, almost hesitant, but enough to make drew’s breath get caught in his throat for a second.

as you pull away, you notice his glance toward leila, who's standing just a few feet away, pretending to be deeply engrossed in whatever she's holding. but she can’t hide the small wink she throws his way when he meets her gaze, a playful, silent “you're welcome” before she turns back around.

you catch it at the very last second and your mouth gapes open, so you take a step back. “are you two conspiring now?” you ask, in fake shock.

he chuckles softly. “just trying to be a good boyfriend.”

“mhm,” you murmur, but your smile lingers, and you look up at him to mumble a small “thank you” again, to which he waves it off like it’s nothing. even though you're hesitant, you can't deny that the gesture worked—at least a little.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains

[screamlet]

new fic: what are your intentions?

aka the bucktommy wip that ate my life! it is a Long Fic

pairings: buck/tommy, tommy/omc's, canon background pairings rating: E, word count: 22k (out of ~130k total) status: complete (see below for posting schedule) tags: tommy pov, canon compliant, character study, queer themes/culture, angst, hurt/comfort, internalized homophobia, found family- THE WORKS. with a happy ending because i wouldn't do that to you.

Summary:

It's Tommy and Buck—the family they find and the family they make.

Excerpt:

"Alright, you creeps, it's Evan Buckley," Tommy calls out to the hangar. Donato chokes on her coffee and gets it all over her flight suit. "Him?" Katelynne, one of their medics, walks over excitedly. "Donato, that's him, right? Worst drunk kiss in the LAFD Buckley?" "Wait, that Buckley?" Harris, another medic, calls out. "Crushed by a truck Buckley? At the 118?" Tommy points at them. "Just Buck." He looks at Donato in particular and adds, "You get one sloppy seconds joke for the entirety of your human life and that's it." Donato laughs. "Are you kidding? That was sloppy firsts. I was worried he'd never find someone with game like that." Tommy, suddenly incredibly defensive of Evan's honor, crosses his arms over his chest. "He's got game." There's a long, expectant pause. "Which I don't have to describe to you because it's private," Tommy finishes.

Posting schedule:

Story's done but I'm posting a chunk every few days so I have time to proofread/edit between drops. Dates/word counts might change.

Chapters 1-4 (22k): 9/21 (today!) 5-8 (22k): 9/25 9-12 (24k): 9/29 13-15 (20k): 10/3 16-19 (26k): 10/7 20-23 (16k): 10/11

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Loyalty Rewards Program

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 9204 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, top Hob, bottom Dream, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, Dream of the Endless is intense and unhinged, Hob matches his freak, Bossy Dream, Agreeable Hob, Service Top Hob Gadling, Enthusiatic Bottom Dream, Dream is Not Quiet in bed, there is a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet at one point, blatant disregard for typical human refractory periods, rimming, anal sex, felching-adjacent, inconsequential ingestion of lube, effusive endearments, dirty talk, overstimulation, anal fingering, help my hookup is growing feelings

Notes: Third in the Turbo Lover series (Customer Service and Every Nerve Alive on Tumblr, if AO3 is down). This one happened because Dream was insistent on getting properly fucked in the garage and I refuse to be the author who uses engine grease or motor oil for lube. This fills the free space (B2) on my @dreamlingbingo card, and is also the longest Sandman fic I've written to date.

Summary: Dream comes back to Matthew's Motor Repairs the next day and Hob gives him everything he asks for

On AO3 Hob re-locks the door as soon as he's ducked inside the shop the next morning; he's not opening for people today.

He has other obligations, after all.

He first makes a thorough job of cleaning and sweeping the floor around the Porsche. Whatever the plan today entails, he doesn't want to wind up kneeling on a bit of gravel or taking a stray hex nut to the arse cheek while he's fucking his rich admirer. Granted he may need to do a quick spot-sweep when Dream shows up—if Dream shows up—since he'll be working on the car in the meantime, but doing it now will make that faster.

…Of course Dream's going to show up, Hob's not worried. Guy was thirsty as fuck yesterday, he'll be back. He's got a car to pick up, after all, and speaking of, Hob had best make sure it's ready.

He strips out of his clothes and dons his coveralls nude, leaves them unzipped to the waist, not even bothering to keep his underwear today. It's cooler than yesterday but still plenty warm, and this will make things faster once Dream shows up. He's pretty sure Dream will appreciate the aesthetic, also.

Hob whistles to himself working under Dream's Porsche, finishing up the clutch replacement that he hadn't quite been able to focus on after Dream left yesterday. It's quick work to wrap it up and he makes sure to let grease smears accumulate on his arms and maybe he deliberately puts a couple of artistically-placed smudges on his chest, for fun.

With the clutch done, he moves on to changing the oil, flushing and refilling the other fluids, and giving the car a general tuneup. The Porsche is a beautiful machine and Hob's thrilled to have the chance to work on her.

He's thrilled to have the chance to work on her owner, too.

When the shop bell rings, Hob's heart leaps. He's just got the car all closed up and down from the ramps and done another quick sweep so assuming that's Dream, and it should be, his timing is perfect. He winds his way to the front, zipping up his coveralls just in case and opening the door.

Dream is there on the other side, as breathtakingly gorgeous as Hob remembers. "Am I the 'special circumstances'?" he asks, coy and smouldering as he taps the handwritten sign Hob had pasted in the window—Closed for walk-ins due to special circumstances; ring if you have an appointment.

"The specialist of circumstances," Hob agrees, effervescent joy and lust bubbling up inside him, spilling into his smile. "Closed up so I'm all yours. Entirely at your service."

"Wonderful," Dream purrs, stepping through the door. "For I am desperately in need of the services of a good mechanic."

Hob pulls the door closed after him, ensures it's latched in and that it's still locked, then turns with a grin. "You've come to the right place then, love. I'm at your disposal, one hundred percent, and I will personally see to your complete satisfaction. Guaranteed." He winks.

Dream steps in closer, tilts his head just enough to gaze up heatedly from beneath his lashes, toys with the tab of the zipper at Hob's collarbone. "Do you offer such comprehensive personal service to all your customers?" He's slowly drawing the zip down as he speaks.

Hob's heartrate picks up and his breath goes a bit short. "Oh no, this comes special with our uh, our loyalty rewards program," he manages, with his best charm-the-customer smile. The dainty fingertips unzipping his coveralls are very distracting.

Dream stops once he's exposed Hob's chest hair, rakes his nails through it lightly, skirting the grease smeared above it. "But this is the first time I have brought my patronage to your shop," he counters, with the prettiest little pout.

Hob shakes his head. "See I count twice; you tried out my services yesterday and found them satisfactory enough to come back today. And I'm very sure, if I meet your exacting standards, I can earn your repeat business. So I'll opt you in, because I have that much confidence in the quality of my work."

He's mixing his references clumsily, the car repairs and the sex getting muddled together, but Dream is smiling all the same. "Let us hope your confidence is not misplaced, then," he says, voice dipping lower in that way that makes Hob's stomach tighten delightfully. "I should hate to be granted such privilege unduly."

With that, Dream draws the zipper down more, then turns and steps away, casting a come-hither glance over his shoulder as he sashays toward the door into the garage. Hob, unzipped to the waist and hard already, is hot to follow, but first—

He tears the sign from the window, hangs the normal 'Closed' sign in its place, double-checks the lock and throws the deadbolt for good measure. He rounds the reception desk and logs into the phone system, makes sure the auto-answer is set to the 'closed unexpectedly' option, and sets the ringer to after-hours so it'll go straight to messages instead of ringing through. Not that he'd be stopping in the middle of whatever they're about to be doing to answer the phone, but this way they're guaranteed no distractions, no interruptions. Then he hurries after Dream.

Dream is completely naked when he gets back to the garage, leaning pale and pretty and barefoot against the side of his Porsche with his arms loosely folded and his cock hanging ready, half-hard, beautiful.

"Well hello, gorgeous," Hob says, unabashedly enthusiastic as he approaches, wondering if he's meant to just dive in or wait for a cue, if he's allowed to pull Dream into his arms and start with a kiss. His gaze falls to the delicate arches of Dream's feet, the soft pale curves of his toes (with black-painted nails!), and he's really glad he swept up first.

"You occupy my thoughts incessantly, Hob Gadling," Dream says, pushing off the car and stepping close to Hob again, hands reaching to toy with the open edges of his coveralls.

"Do I, now?" Hob decides on a caution-to-the-wind approach and snakes an arm around Dream's waist, raises a dirt-stained thumb to brush over his cheek. Dream hadn't hesitated yesterday to say what he did and didn't want; Hob will trust him to do the same today. "They're good thoughts, I hope?"

"Very," Dream breathes, gripping the coveralls, tugging marginally; his eyes are dark, his pale cheeks faintly flushed with excitement, his pretty pink lips slightly parted, and Hob sees no reason to resist the temptation presented.

The noise Dream makes when Hob kisses him is soft, eager, encouraging, and Hob presses closer, lets both hands play over Dream's bare skin, up and down his spine. Dream is kissing back, heated and insistent; he slips both hands inside Hob's coveralls, around his waist and down to grasp his arse cheeks, squeeze appreciatively, pull him closer.

Hob breaks away with a gasp, delighted and impossibly turned on; Dream squeezes again, nips at the scruff on his chin. "You are not wearing any underwear today, Hob," he murmurs, in a tone of pleased discovery, and Hob can't help grinning.

"Thought you might appreciate it," he says, breathless, hands stroking up and down Dream's biceps, leaving faint smudges behind. "Makes things a bit faster, easier—"

"And are you easy, Hob Gadling?"

"Only for you," he answers, which is truer than it would have been two weeks ago. "God, you smell good today—" He really does, floral-herbal freshness wafting from his hair, faint notes of soap and a light cologne lingering on his skin; Hob lets instinct shape his words. "So clean and pretty, too; come down to the garage to get properly dirty, have we?"

The way Dream shivers against him tells him that was indeed the right thing to say.

"Perhaps," Dream replies, and squeezes Hob's arse again. "I very much appreciate your wardrobe choices, in that regard." He brings his hands around front, one dipping to cup Hob's dick while the other draws the zipper all the way down underneath.

"Thought you might," Hob manages, while Dream's slender fingertips touch his balls, stroke with gentle pressure, and then Dream is moving, grasping at the shoulders of Hob's coveralls and pushing them off.

"I would feel you, bare, against me," is what he says, which sounds like a fine idea to Hob. He struggles briefly with the rolled-up sleeves but as soon as his arms are free Dream is in them, pressing up against him, kissing him fiercely and completely derailing any attempt at getting the coveralls all the way off.

Fuck it, Hob decides, letting them just fall around his legs as he wraps Dream close and kisses him back, hungry and insistent to match Dream's fervor. He backs him up a step, two, until Dream's narrow arse hits the Porsche again and he squirms prettily, his cock nudging up against Hob's as they break the kiss, panting.

"Over the bonnet then, love?"

Dream shakes his head, an effortlessly imperious little gesture. "I wish to ride you, first." He gestures to the creeper. "Please."

Clearly, clearly Dream's got some very specific fantasies about cars and mechanics and Hob is delighted that he gets to help make them happen. "Absolutely," he grins, shuffling down into position on the board.

Dream grabs a condom and a bottle of lube from where he'd stashed them between the windscreen and the bonnet and drops next to Hob. Which is just as well since Hob's supplies are with his clothes in the locker on the other side of the garage; he leans back on his elbows as Dream tears open the condom and rolls it onto him.

"You've got such pretty hands," he breathes, shivering at the glide of Dream's touch along his shaft, and doesn't miss the breath Dream sucks in at the compliment. "Gonna show me how you use those fingers to open yourself up? Or do I get to do that for you, hm?"

"Neither," Dream answers, rising and turning to lean over the side of the bonnet, which confuses Hob for half a second until he speaks again.

"Spread me open," he directs, and Hob is only to happy to sit up and comply, to see the greasy smudge of his fingerprints smeared on Dream's lily-white arse—

Dream is wearing a plug.

Hob's libido, already cranked to eleven, ratchets up another notch. "Oh, fuck," he breathes reverently, wide-eyed. Dream had put that in at home, had come here sitting on it, walking with it inside him, just to be ready for Hob's cock?

Christ, but that's hot.

He watches raptly as Dream's slender fingers grip the wide base and start pulling; he takes his time and Hob gets to just hold him open and watch as Dream's hole slowly stretches around the flare of the thing, bigger and bigger until it finally passes the widest point and slides the rest of the way free, and the hungry little sound of relief Dream makes as it comes out makes Hob's dick ache.

He desperately wants to slip his tongue in there, wriggle it into the shrinking gape and let Dream's body close to grip snugly around him, but Dream is a man on a mission, and that mission is getting Hob's prick inside him. He straightens up, turns and straddles Hob, fingertips to Hob's chest pressing him down as Dream squats over his lap. He drops the plug aside, reaches behind to take Hob's slicked-up rubber-wrapped cock and guide it into his body as he comes down, and the sound he makes plus the tight warm sheath of his arse have Hob absolutely riveted.

Dream lifts himself, thighs straining and hand firmly on Hob's chest now, fucks himself up and down on Hob's prick while hovering over it, letting out the most decadent moans each time he sinks onto it. He'd said he wanted to ride Hob but he's only made it as far as squatting, like he's so desperate for Hob's cock he can't even wait to get all the way into proper position for it and Hob (and his dick) definitely feel some kind of way about it. Dream's own prick bobs stiff and eager in front of him, a little drop of fluid glistening at the tip already, and Hob almost wishes he was enough of a contortionist to get it in his mouth. Later, perhaps. Right now he's got this gorgeous creature pistoning eagerly on his cock and well on his way to losing his mind, from the sound of it.

Hob spreads both hands over the tops of Dream's thighs, feeling how they tremble with exertion, and finally draws them down, forward, coaxing Dream out of his squat and into a proper kneeling position. He shifts his grip to Dream's hips and pulls him onto his cock at the same time, all the way down until he's buried deep up inside and Dream is panting the breathiest little 'yes, yes, yes's as he bottoms out, eyes wide and glazed. His hand is still planted on Hob's chest and Hob takes it up carefully, draws it to his mouth and kisses Dream's fingertips; Dream whines, gaze sharpening and honing in on Hob's actions. Hob's lips brush the pads of those fingers as he speaks.

"Did you still want to ride me, darling? Or should I hold you still and start fucking up into that pretty little hole?"

Dream shivers, makes another needy little noise and draws himself up on Hob's cock, sinks back down, does it again, and again, faster, harder, until he's panting breathless moans on every pass. His hands are planted on Hob's chest, up near his shoulders next to the grease smeared beneath his collarbone, and Hob rests his hands at Dream's hips, ready to take up the slack if he's needed.

Dream rides like a pro, to be honest, finding his rhythm and moving steadily in pursuit of his pleasure. His arse is snug and hot and slick, his voice like a song as he glides so easily up and down on Hob's prick; he feels amazing, and Hob has to remind himself to breathe as it goes on and on, to keep a rein on his own pleasure until Dream's gotten everything he needs.

At last Dream's pace begins to falter, his panting moans stuttering into broken little whimpers as he flags in his feverish bouncing. "Hob," he whines, arse wriggling lower, his fingers clutching at Hob's chest hair. "You feel. So good, inside me—"

"Do I?" Hob breathes, fingertips brushing over Dream's flanks, and it's weak, so weak as far as dirty talk goes but he can't help it. He's enamoured, struck senseless by how into this Dream is, and words are failing him.

"Yes—" Dream squirms forward and back, circles his hips beneath Hob's attentive grease-stained hands, moans prettily. "Hob, please—"

He doesn't even have to specify, it's clear enough what he's after now, and Hob moves to grip him properly, to lift him just slightly. He clutches tight, fingertips digging in to what little meat there is on Dream's arse, plants his boots on the concrete floor and thrusts up into him.

Dream cries out, clenches his fists on Hob's shoulders and throws his head back, chest heaving. Hob draws out and thrusts again, full force, and again, and Dream shudders, gasping, delighted. "Hob—yes—yes—" He squeezes tight around Hob's prick and groans, drops his head to meet Hob's gaze with fever-bright eyes. "Fuck me—I want—"

"Tell me," Hob breathes, mesmerized, shifting his feet for better leverage and thrusting into him again, and Dream warbles beautifully.

"Faster. Deeper—as hard and as deep as you can, Hob—!"

"'Course, love," Hob gasps, hips moving to comply with barely a thought, and Dream's voice rises into a long keening wail as Hob gives him precisely what he's asked for.

"Yes—yes—yes—!" He tosses his head back again, the arch of his throat working beautifully as he chokes out 'yes' after 'yes', arms stiff and trembling, hands still braced tight on Hob's shoulders.

Hob grunts with exertion, pounding up into Dream with everything he's got, thighs damp and sticking slightly where they press against Dream's. He's transfixed by the rapture in Dream's face, the sheen of sweat on his neck and chest, the stream of noises coming out of his pretty mouth; he looks and sounds like having Hob's cock in him is the best thing ever, like it's everything he wanted, and Hob is fast falling in love with how expressive he is about sex.

Dangerous thoughts, those; he puts them far away, concentrates on pumping hard and fast and deep up into Dream's lovely arse to make him come. He's careful still not to come himself; Dream has clearly got plans and it's his job to stay hard as long as Dream needs his cock.

"Hob—Hob—ahh, don't stop, Hob—!"

Hob squeezes Dream's arse, spreading his cheeks just a tiny bit more, and shifts the tempo down slightly, fucks up into him long and smooth, deep, steady. Dream wails, lost in the pleasure of it, and droops suddenly to lay over Hob's chest, a graceful fall into an open kiss interspersed with Dream's panting and whimpering. Hob shifts his hips to accommodate the changed angle and Dream sobs into his mouth, needy, desperate. His prick is nestled against Hob's belly, wet at the tip, hot and hard and Dream is moving helplessly as Hob fucks him, rutting through the hair on Hob's stomach in little jerks. He's tense in Hob's arms, trembling, skin damp with sweat all over and Hob thinks he could do this forever if he had to, fucking this gorgeous creature curled atop him but he doesn't have to, he knows, he can tell, Dream is nearly there—

Dream goes rigid abruptly, breath choking in his throat as his mouth opens wider, still meshed to Hob's. A high thin sound trickles out of his throat and Hob laps it up, fucks into him once, twice, again, and then Dream convulses with a wail, wet warmth blooming on Hob's belly. He buries himself as deep into Dream as he can and holds it there, flexes against the rhythmic clutching of Dream's arse around him, kisses Dream through the tremors and pulses of orgasm until he goes limp.

He spends a moment petting up and down Dream's spine then while Dream lies boneless atop him, catching his breath. He's still warm and tight around Hob's dick, perfect and tempting and—

And heavier than he looks, honestly; Hob shifts to take him by the shoulders, lifts him off his chest just a bit. Dream takes the cue, raises himself somewhat, blinks the haze from his eyes as he meets Hob's. The smile on his lips quickly sharpens to something simmering with heat, but Hob saw. He saw that glimpse of softness, the glow of bliss on Dream's face and he feels the way his heart trips, knows he's losing his battle.

There's a faint smudge of grease on Dream's forehead that probably came from Hob's collarbone and his dick twitches to see it. Dream shivers and squeezes around him and Hob sighs, a full and happy sound.

"You're pretty when you come," he says, gathering his wits about him again. He smears his hand through the mess on his stomach, picks up a little grease from just beside it, reaches to cradle Dream's face. "So, so pretty." He strokes his fingers back through Dream's hair, leaving a faint black smudge and sticky colorless smears on his cheekbone and more than a trace of filth in his hair.

"Only when I come?" It's a tease, accompanied by a gentle squeeze around him, and Hob shivers.

"'Course not," he murmurs, flexing his dick in response, delighted by the shiver that runs through Dream in turn. "You're pretty when you're bouncing on my cock, too. And when you tell me what you want me to do to you. And yesterday." He flexes again, warming to the topic. "You looked so pretty yesterday, with grease smeared on your face and my prick in your mouth."

Dream makes a pleased sound, squeezes his arse around Hob again, and Hob is more than ready to carry on, if Dream is. He strokes his thumb over the tacky mess on Dream's cheek. "Can I dirty you up some more, beautiful? Make you come for me again?"

"I should be very disappointed if you did not, Hob Gadling," Dream purrs, and there's that imperious little smirk again, the one Hob is already too attached to.

He'll give this man whatever he wants, and love every second of it.

"What next, then, sweetheart?" He's slowly pulsing up into Dream now in unhurried rhythm, too leisurely to be called fucking but ready to pick up the pace in a heartbeat. "Keep going like this?" The creeper is getting a bit uncomfortable, truth be told, and he wouldn't mind getting up off the floor but if Dream's not done yet he'll tough it out.

"No." Thankfully Dream sits all the way up, wriggles deliciously on Hob's cock, bottomed out and heavy-eyed with the pleasure of having it so deep inside him. "Next, I would have you—ahh—" He squirms, back arching, mouth falling open as Hob gives in to the temptation of dragging the rough grease-stained pad of his thumb over one pristine petal pink nipple. "Bend—bend me over the bonnet. Fuck me until I scream—Hob—!" He's panting as Hob caresses the tender little bud of flesh, writhing as if he could take Hob any deeper.

Hob shivers. "Fuck. Alright. As you wish, you precious beautiful man—" He lifts Dream's hips, lifts Dream off his cock as he sits up, then wraps one arm under Dream's narrow arse and heaves them both up with a grunt of exertion, his other hand braced on the car for support. It's awkward as fuck with his coveralls still wadded about his ankles and he can tell already his back and thighs are going to hate him for it tomorrow, but it's entirely worth it for the arousal that flares in Dream's widened eyes, the way he clings and wraps his legs around Hob, the way he surges in to kiss Hob again.

Hob shuffles round the front of the car using his one hand for guidance while Dream devours his mouth, and carefully lowers Dream onto the bonnet. He knows it's not the position Dream was looking for but he can't help slipping his cock back into him like this, when Dream is still wrapped around him and ripe for the plowing.

Dream breaks the kiss with a reedy little whining noise as Hob nudges inside him and sinks deep; he claws at Hob's shoulders and draws his legs back, open and practically begging and alright, okay, Hob can give him a good minute like this first, fucks into him in soft smooth rhythm. Dream's pretty pink cock is stiffening up again already, laying thick and half-filled against his belly and jolting with every thrust; he's panting open-mouthed, the sweetest little sounds falling out of him each time Hob pushes in.

"You're gorgeous like this too," Hob gets out, needing the talk to divide his focus, to keep himself going without risk of finishing. "So eager, so open, so fuckable—" Dream shudders, biting off a deep whine at the word, leaned back and still hanging onto Hob's shoulders for support, feet braced on his hips, and Hob zeroes in on his advantage. "Has no one ever called you that before, sweetheart? Fuckable?"

"None I would care to hear it from," Dream moans, pulling himself up closer, disrupting Hob's rhythm. "But. From your lips. It sounds like a benediction—" He kisses Hob, tongue plunging into his mouth, arms wrapping tight behind Hob's neck. His legs shift also, wrapping back around Hob's waist and he pulls himself close, up off the car as Hob gets his arms quickly underneath to support him.

"Give a bloke an ego, talking like that," he gasps, when Dream lets him up for air.

"It's well-deserved," Dream counters, nipping at his lower lip and shifting his weight so that Hob steps back to keep them balanced. "You are exquisite, and talented with your dick, and I wish to be so deeply and thoroughly fucked over my car that I will still feel you inside me tomorrow." He plunges his tongue back into Hob's mouth and unlocks his legs from around him, lets Hob set him back on his feet.

"Do you need a refresh on your lube first?" Hob gasps, mindful of what they've already done and what Dream still wants from him and the serviceable life of water-based lube.

Dream pauses, considering. "Perhaps," he says, with the restlessness of someone eager to get back into action but recognizing the wisdom of the question regardless.

Hob leans around him and reaches, snags the lube off the bonnet. "Let me slick you up a bit more just to be safe." He glances at his hands, perpetually stained and still dirty enough to leave smudges on Dream's skin. "Or you can, since your hands are cleaner?"

"Yes," Dream agrees, taking the bottle and squirting some out. He reaches behind himself and Hob gets to watch his face flicker through half a dozen little expressions; he's clearly moving for function over pleasure but there's enjoyment to be had all the same, from the look of it.

"There." Dream straightens as he finishes, eyes Hob with new heat in his gaze. "Are you clean."

"What?"

Dream narrows his eyes, clearly conveying both horniness and impatience in equal measure. "I am clean; I test regularly. I want your come inside me. Are. You. Clean."

Hob's libido flares, wildly. "Yes. Fuck. Yes, okay." Caution to the wind, and all that.

Dream reaches down and removes Hob's condom, drops it aside and picks up the lube again. He slicks up Hob's cock, kisses him fiercely while doing so, then turns and drapes himself over the bonnet of his Porsche and lifts up on his toes, arse presented. "Fuck me," he demands over his shoulder, breathless and eager like he hadn't just come bouncing on Hob's cock not ten minutes ago. Insatiable. "Hold me down with your work-dirtied hands and fuck me—"

Hob doesn't need to be told twice. He lines up and pushes in, bare slick and easy, all the way to the hilt. Dream makes the most appreciative and desperate little moan, wriggling backwards; Hob grabs his hip with one grease-stained hand, plants his other in the middle of Dream's narrow back and fucks.

Dream cries out, high gasping breaths punched from his lungs with every thrust and Hob just revels in it, moving in sure and steady rhythm. It's easy, so easy, smooth and slick and so good, and Dream's enthusiastic response is—it's heady, to have someone react to him this way, to want him this much, and he'll do everything he can to give Dream what he wants, to make it worth it. It's no hardship, far from it.

"Your arse is so hot," Hob pants, "so tight, absolutely perfect. Can't believe you wore that glass plug here so you'd be ready to get plowed." He grinds his hips deep in emphasis, draws out a little and relishes the way Dream whimpers when he slams back in. "Sweet of you, though. Did it turn you on, sitting on it in the cab? Feeling it move inside you when you walked? Were you horny and eager the whole way here, darling, stuffed full with your toy and imagining my prick in its place?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Dream cries, as much an answer as it is interjection. He's thrusting backward as best he can in Hob's hold, eager and desperate, and Hob keeps fucking, keeps talking.

"I loved watching you take it out. Your beautiful hole stretching bigger and bigger around it, how open you were after. Wanted to stick my tongue in there, sweetheart, wanted to eat you out, make you squirm."

Dream is gasping, wailing, trembling where Hob pins him to the car, head tossing, breath heaving under Hob's steady hand. His cock is surely leaking a mess all over the bonnet; Hob'll have to clean it for him again when they're done.

"You've got the prettiest little hole I've ever seen," Hob continues, steady and unflagging in his rhythm. He leans back, drags both hands to Dream's arse cheeks and squeezes, spreads them so he can easily see himself sinking in, his naked prick pushing and pulling at the puffy pink rim of Dream's hole again and again. He slows, savoring the sight, and Dream whines, clenches around him as he presses back in. "Absolutely beautiful," Hob breathes, thumb moving to stroke over the delicate skin stretched tight around the girth of his prick. "Exquisite. I'm so lucky I get to ravish it."

He knows on one hand he sounds ridiculous as he picks up the pace again, but on the other it's doing the trick on both counts—distracting him from his own pleasure to draw it out, and driving Dream higher at the same time.

And Dream is absolutely being driven to the heights of pleasured madness, that much is clear. He's writhing on the bonnet under Hob's steady pounding, fingers clutching futilely at the glossy surface, skin flushed and sweat-damp and sticking to the car, ribs heaving. And the sounds coming out of his mouth? Good god, he's noisy, so fucking loud and it's not like Hob doesn't love it, not like there's anyone around to hear or any other reason to hold back. It does great things for his ego, the way Dream's wailing like he's never been railed this good in his life, but Hob's got an idea and his instincts say it's spot-on, so he goes for it.

He claps his hand—still grimy from the tune-up, still a little tacky with Dream's come—he claps it gently over Dream's mouth, stifling his volume, and Dream jolts, then goes wild. His head goes all the way back, giving Hob easier coverage; his breath comes short and sharp through his nose, faster and faster in time with his cries that go higher and shriller, muffled by Hob's not-exactly-clean hand. His body has gone tense, trembling, hips thrusting back against Hob's with mounting desperation and god, but Hob is in love. "That's it, sweetheart, come for me again," he murmurs breathlessly, bending close to Dream's ear and the dried mess on his cheek and squeezing his hip, flexing the hand that covers his mouth. "Take your fill of my cock, shoot your load all over your car—I'll clean it again for you, don't worry—"

Dream stills abruptly, shaking, voice a strangled muffled shriek as he comes; Hob thrusts deep into his pulsing clenching arse and holds, intending to let Dream ride out his orgasm. But Dream wriggles, wrenches his head free of Hob's hand, gasping.

"Move—don't stop—"

So Hob moves.

He straightens up and sets both hands back on Dream's hips, fucks eagerly into him, quickly re-establishing his rhythm and speeding up. "Good?" he grunts, sweat dripping down his temple, and Dream warbles out an affirmative.

"Harder—Hob—use me, claim me, fill me—!" His voice shakes; his hands are spasming against the bonnet, his arms trembling, and his arse is so tight and slick and hot, clenches so beautifully around him, Hob isn't going to last but another moment.

"Use your pretty little hole for my own pleasure?" he gets out, pounding into it now with everything he's got, spiraling up to the horizon, and Dream sobs.

"Yes, Hob, yes—!"

"Claim it for myself?" Hob gasps, grinding deep, slamming into him again and again. "Fill you up with my come—ahh—here it is—Dream!"

Dream wails, and Hob comes, gasping, grunting, the euphoria sweeping through his veins in a warm rush. His hips jerk involuntarily, shoving deep, emptying himself thoroughly into Dream's clutching arse.

"Fuck," he pants, pulse pounding in his ears, "oh, fuck—"

It's good, so damn good, feels like it goes on forever, everything in his body alight with pleasure and pouring out through his dick, until at long last it subsides and he collapses, barely catching himself before he crushes Dream. He takes a minute, just panting above him, and then pulls out carefully—still wet and messy, regardless—with a groan. Dream whimpers, a sound of abject loss, but does not move from where he has gone limp on the car.

Hob turns carefully to perch beside him, resting his arse on the bonnet, catching his breath.

"Alright there, Dream?" he asks, after a moment.

"Mmh," is the only reply, and Hob takes a moment to just look at him, gaze sweeping over the lines of his body and the grey-black smudges he himself has left on that pristine pale skin. He lingers over the curves (such as they are) of Dream's arse, leans far enough to see where there's a mess of lube and semen dribbling down Dream's perineum to his balls, a glistening runnel of it trickling down his inner thigh—Hob shivers, arousal sparking despite the remains of orgasm still simmering in his blood.

"Christ, you look beautiful like this," he can't help saying. "Fucked out across the bonnet of your Porsche with your legs spread, and my come dripping out of your arse…"

"Silver tongue." Dream does not move from where he sprawls, languid and heavy-lidded, spread-eagled on the car, even as Hob levers himself up, moves to stand behind Dream again.

"Mmyes, that's right. Said something about having a use in mind for it, didn't you?"

"Perhaps."

"'Perhaps' he says," Hob drawls, grinning, but the idea's back in his head now and oh, he would like to get his tongue in Dream's arse, lube or no lube. He saw the bottle, it's water-based, it's not going to kill him to lick a bit of it up. "Why don't you tell me if this is what you had in mind, then."

He drops into a squat and flicks the tip of his tongue around the puffy rim of Dream's messy and very-pink hole, circling it with a light touch, and the sound that Dream makes is nothing but encouraging. His own come is no particular delicacy but just like the lube, he doesn't mind that he's getting a taste in the course of eating out this beautiful man. Dream's hole is swollen with use and sensitive and Hob kisses it softly, wets his tongue and wriggles it in, gently at first with slurping licks in between but with increasing enthusiasm until Dream is squirming against his face and he's as deep as he can get, grease-stained hands gripping those milk-white cheeks and spreading them wide.

The keening noise Dream makes urges him on and he delves back in again and again, breathless and eager, feasting until his face is sticky and his jaw aches. Finally he draws back, panting, senses filled with the smell and the taste of this man and still, Dream remains insatiable.

"More. Hob, I want more, do not send me on my way so unsated—"

He has come twice, surely he is not sincere when he says 'unsated', and yet. Here he is, pleading for more, as needy and eager as he's been the whole time. And god, but Hob wants to give him everything, is itching to finger him out but he's not doing that when his hands are still dirty, he's just not. Nor is he going to make Dream wait while he scrubs down with the Swarfega. He casts about, thinking, tongue lapping soothingly around Dream's sloppy hole all the while; there's the plug Dream was wearing but it's been sitting on the shop floor so no; it's shaped for stretching more than fucking anyway. His fingers really would be best—

"Did you bring more than just the one condom?"

"Mmh?" Dream sounds keyed up and hazy, blissed out on the attentions of Hob's tongue and Hob smiles, plants a kiss over his hole.

"Condoms, love. Have you got another?"

"Yes. Trouser pocket—"

"And where did your trousers escape to?" He kisses again, flicks his fatigued tongue inside in a teasing lick.

"Front seat." Dream wriggles, needy, restless and wanting.

"Brilliant. Hang on, got an idea—" He scrambles up and around and finds the clothes rumpled in the Porsche's driver seat, rifles through the pockets for the promised condom and tears it open, slips it over his first two fingers as he shuffles round the front of the car again, coveralls still tangled in his boots. Dream is a vision sprawled face down and spread-legged on the bonnet, eyes tracking Hob's return, and Hob won't leave him waiting another instant.

"Here we are," he murmurs, condom-clad fingers sliding down the cleft of Dream's grease-smudged arse and slipping deftly into his hole still slick with lube and Hob's jizz, Hob's spit. Hob pushes deep, curves his touch down and massages, and Dream cries out, going rigid.

Grinning, Hob leans over the bonnet beside him, fingers working deep and steady, and watches Dream's prettily-dirtied face as he comes apart. He's mewling, eyes wide, mouth open and gasping; he's come twice already and his insides are swollen and sensitive, his pleasure easy to stoke to trembling heights. Hob shifts briefly to drizzle more lube in for good measure and then gives him no quarter, fingers steady and relentless in their attentions until Dream is shaking, sobbing, tears leaking from his eyes and saliva drooling from the corner of his mouth. He pushes up on trembling arms, collapses back to his elbows, head hanging low between his shoulders. "Hob—aah—Hob, please!" It's unclear if he's begging for more or begging for mercy, but the way he flexes up on his toes and pushes back on Hob's hand is telling enough.

"Shh," Hob soothes, leaning close enough to brush his mouth across Dream's bicep in an open kiss, and then, because he can't help being just a touch evil: "Do you want to come again? Or did you need me to stop?"

"Do not stop," he manages, and it is very much an order despite his gasping breathless delivery. "Your hands are exquisite, Hob—!"

"You say the sweetest things," Hob murmurs, kissing his arm again and rubbing particularly hard with both fingers.

Dream wails, head tossing, trembling, helpless, and Hob draws his fingers partway out only to drive them back in, again and again and again, curving his touch to hit that spot on every thrust. He twists his hand as he goes, employing every expert technique he's honed in his time to bring Dream up to the edge again.

God, he loves this, having another person trust him with their pleasure and being able to give them everything they want and then some. It's heady, addictive to have this beautiful man sobbing in delight because of him, shaking apart, because of him; he desperately wants for this to not be the last time. Predictably, his mouth starts running again, pleading his case.

"You can have this anytime you like, love, I'd be delighted to take care of you again. Your pretty mouth, your pretty cock, this pretty perfect eager little hole—" He twists his fingers just so, curls and presses.

Dream warbles out a wet, broken sound that may or may not be Hob's name, bends trembling knees to widen his stance just a little, letting Hob that much deeper inside him.

Beautiful. Perfect.

"Come see me anytime you just need a good hard fuck, mmh? Whenever you want a fun and filthy seeing-too from your handsome bit of rough down at the garage?" He pauses with his fingers buried deep, strokes them fast and firm over exactly the right spot again and again and Dream wails, a high thin keening noise deep in his throat that rises into a proper scream as he comes at last. His body spasms, clenches hard on Hob's fingers in pulsing rhythm and Hob doesn't let up for a long moment, milks him relentlessly through it until he collapses onto the bonnet, boneless and panting.

Hob stills his fingers at that point but doesn't yet pull them out, savoring the snug warmth they're nestled in and the beautiful picture Dream makes like this.

He did that. He made Dream come three times, worked this posh pretty thing into a limp fucked-out mess sprawled across his expensive car.

God, but he wants to do it again.

"Do you think you've got one more in you?" He can't help it; he's always been greedy.

Dream groans, a low sound that stirs something deep in Hob's stomach. "Three times, Hob. I am spent." Yet he makes no move to rise from the car or pull off from Hob's hand, which he could easily do.

Greatly daring, tempted beyond reason by this ravenous marvelous creature, Hob twitches his fingers where they're still pressed against Dream's prostate.

Dream jerks, a shudder running through him, then squeaks when Hob does it again. "Hob—!" His eyes fly open, shining beneath his wet lashes.

"I'll stop if you say so," Hob hastens to assure him. "But you did chide me to not send you home unsated and I just want to make sure I've given you everything"—he presses again—"you need."

Dream whines through his teeth, sucks in a great gasping breath as Hob lets up and cries out when Hob's fingers curl mercilessly within him again, and again, and again. He scrabbles uselessly at the bonnet and lifts his head, mouth open, muscles straining, body trembling as Hob starts taking him apart again before he's even pulled himself back together from the last orgasm.

Hob's good with his hands, in this as well as his work, and he's quite certain he can make Dream come again in fairly short order given how sensitized and overstimulated he is. Hob is also quite certain he can draw this out just a bit longer, work him up even more before pushing him over the edge again and quite frankly, that sounds like more fun.

"Stay with me sweetheart," he murmurs in between Dream's cries, shifting his hand to stave off the cramp that wants to start. He strokes Dream's insides with both fingers, together at first and then one after the other; the condom and the grip of Dream's body restrict his range of movement somewhat but not so much that he can't do his job well.

"God, I'm so fucking lucky," he breathes, fingers still moving steadily, and kisses his way softly up Dream's arm. "You're beautiful, perfect, so pretty and so hungry and so eager—" He's planting kisses across Dream's shoulders and back between words, moving down his spine next. "And you let me touch you, worship your body, get you off again and again and again—" He bends over Dream's arse, draws his fingers partway free and spreads them as wide as the condom allows, stretching open Dream's swollen well-used hole. He dips close, slides his tongue into the gap he's created and Dream moans, gasping, trembling. Hob takes a good minute with his tongue before pulling back and sinking his fingers deep again. "This hole, this perfect hungry insatiable hole, you let me fill it as I please, with my cock and my come and my fingers—so lucky, I am. Would you let me fill you with toys, too, sweetheart? I'll bet you've got a drawerful at home; I'd love to try them with you one by one, learn the best ways to play with each, to make you scream and sob and shake—" He's massaging Dream's prostate again, thorough and unhurried and Dream is indeed sobbing, incoherent. He moves, suddenly, draws up one knee beneath him on the bonnet and then the other as Hob moves with him. He's up on all fours briefly and then sinks down, folded double on his knees with his arms stretched out to grip where the bonnet meets the windscreen and his arse opened wide, letting Hob's fingers sink as deep as possible.

"Finish me, Hob," he begs, gripping weakly around Hob's diligent fingers, voice hoarse and shaky, "make me—make me—fuck, I can't—I can't—" He sobs, trembling, and Hob. Well. He's neither a cruel man, nor strong in the face of temptation, and his hand is ready to give out as well. So he buries his fingers to the hilt, seeks out that spot and gives it his all, strokes it quick and steady and firm, both fingers together, then one after the other, together again and Dream's knees spread wide, his spent prick pressing soft against the bonnet. He's making one long sound now, low and thin and straining in his throat, interspersed with gasping gulps of breath. His body trembles, jolts every time Hob presses harder at his prostate, and Hob leans back over beside him, softly kisses the curve of his shoulder.

"I've got you, sweetheart, we're almost there," he breathes, fingering relentlessly. "Is it still good?"

"Yes—fuck—fuck—Hob!" Dream scrabbles one hand down in Hob's direction and Hob seizes it, laces their fingers together; Dream is sobbing, breathless, utterly wrecked and Hob's hand is giving out but he refuses to stop, to quit, not until—

Dream's body stiffens, convulses, bearing down on Hob's stuttering fingers in tremulous pulses and his voice has gone high, whistle-thin, and then he is gasping, tension falling out of him in a rush as he goes limp, breathing hard and heavy against the bonnet. Hob stills his aching hand at last, draws it out carefully and peels off the condom with his teeth, flings it aside. He'll clean up later. He stretches the cramping sensation from his hand and settles it lightly on Dream's still-heaving ribs, unable to keep from touching him even now that they're done.

"Alright, dove?" Hob asks, gently stroking up Dream's spine. "Can you move?" He gives a soft squeeze to their still-joined hands and is gratified to feel brief pressure in return. Dream turns his head, lifts it slightly; his eyes are wet, his hair sticking damply to his forehead and the grease smudge there; his mouth is open, a bit of drool still in the corner and Hob is helpless, gone, so fucking besotted and far too deeply attached for what this is. He dips in, kisses Dream with every soft emotion squirming captive in his chest and Dream just kisses him back, quiet, exhausted, willing.

"C'mere," Hob murmurs, straightening up, sitting back, leaning on the bonnet. He draws Dream after him, tucks him awkwardly up against his side and Dream allows it, nestles underneath his arm, still catching his breath.

This is the drawback to sex in the garage, Hob decides wryly; there is nowhere really suitable or comfortable for post-coital cuddles. He's seriously considering whether he can slide into the passenger seat of the Porsche with Dream in his lap when finally Dream stirs, lifts his head, shivers all over as he straightens and graces Hob with a small smile.

"I believe I will make use of your shop for all my future service needs," he says, primly, with a playful note underneath the exhaustion.

Hob laughs, hearty and full-bodied and joyous. "Glad to hear it," he says, when the laughter subsides. He's so utterly gone on this man, no matter how unlikely a pair they make, and he feels far too good right now to care about the future heartbreak he'll inevitably have to deal with.

He helps Dream down from the car then, steadies him on his feet and sees him around to the driver's seat where Dream first downs half the bottle of water he brought with him and then proceeds with re-dressing. Hob makes to get his coveralls pulled back up into place at that point but Dream stops him. "You promised to clean my spend off my car, I believe," he says, with that tone in his voice that makes Hob's insides go warm despite himself.

"Absolutely," he confirms, waiting, because there was clearly more forthcoming.

"I should like to see you with your trousers around your ankles and your arse on display while you do so." Dream blinks at him, all coquettish charm that is somehow enhanced by his disheveled and dirtied and half-dressed state. "If you are amenable, of course."

"I can do that for you," Hob agrees, delighted, even as he feels his face heat. It's not at all what he's used to but being ogled, being objectified—especially by his beautiful Dream—is no hardship, whatever his reason.

He finds a rag and the polish while Dream finishes putting himself back together and comes round the front of the Porsche again, and then Hob cleans up the bodily fluids on the bonnet, sweat and semen and lube and anything else, coveralls still around his ankles as requested. He wiggles his arse just a bit, since Dream is watching, and when that gets a pleased little sound out of Dream he does it a bit more, putting his whole body into the cleaning motions, bending at the waist and letting his hips swing in wide suggestive arcs.

"There," he says, finished, tossing the rag aside, and his arms are full of Dream as soon as he turns.

"Magnificent," Dream breathes against his mouth, and kisses him, warm and wet and thorough. Hob gives back as good as he gets, threads his hands into Dream's hair, and Dream's hands skate down his bare sides, around his hips and lower, seizing his arse cheeks and squeezing. His fingernails comb through the hair there and Hob squeaks, delighted, dick twitching with interest.

Dream breaks the kiss after only a few seconds. "There is so much more I want to do with you," he murmurs, kneading Hob's arse in slow sensual motions, "but I am spent. Well used. Sated, despite my lingering desires." He releases one cheek, moves to draw a fingertip along the slit of Hob's mostly-soft cock, where he surely encounters the tacky lube-laced remains of Hob's earlier orgasm. He brings that finger to his mouth, makes a show of licking it delicately before slipping it into his mouth to suck properly, and Hob whimpers.

"Dream, love, I meant what I said. Pop by anytime you need, I'll take care of you—"

"I believe you. After all, you have opted me into your loyalty program, yes? I must be sure to claim all of my associated benefits." He steps back, pulling out his phone and handing it to Hob with the contacts open. "Your number, please."

Hob types it in gladly, hits save, hands the phone back.

Dream cradles it close, a look on his face like he's savoring the addition of Hob's number, and glances up at Hob through his lashes. "I look forward to employing your services again, Hob Gadling. You are very much worth the trip."

"You just like me for my rugged filthiness," Hob says, a tease to keep his head in the right place—there's still no sense getting sentimental, after all, no matter the elated cartwheels his ego is doing at those words.

Dream regards him haughtily, one eyebrow lifting; the grease stains do nothing to diminish the expression. "I am quite certain I would enjoy you equally as much cleaned up and dressed up, that I might wine and dine you, take you home to my bed for an evening."

Hob almost, almost detects a hint of vulnerability threading the words and grins, a little pang of tenderness tugging helplessly behind his chest. "Think so, do you?"

"Would you like to test my theory?" There is something both hesitant and eager underneath his casual tone, and Hob's heart trips a little as that tug grows stronger.

"Why, Mr. Atelíotes, are you asking me out? On a proper date?"

"Perhaps." It's equal parts caginess and coy teasing, and Hob is forced to admit—again—that he's smitten despite himself.

"Well." He grins, dialing it up to his most charming. "Rumor has it I'm excellent company whether my dick's involved or not. And while a standard dinner date may not be as fantasy-worthy as getting plowed by the rough mechanic in his garage, I think we could still have a good time." He's showing his hand a bit, gently calling Dream on the fantasy fulfillment that has obviously been going on here, but what's life without a little risk? Especially when the potential reward is so very worth it?

"You are very confident of your own appeal," Dream replies, mouth turning up at one corner in a way that tips over from 'cautious' to 'amused'. And if Hob's not mistaken, there's a hint of pink blushing over his porcelain complexion under the filth clinging to his cheekbone.

He grins, spreads his arms, still stark naked with his coveralls around his ankles. "Am I wrong, though?"

"…No," Dream decides, after a long moment of deliberation, and Hob steps closer to him, dares to touch his face affectionately.

"Why don't you pick me up here at seven tomorrow night. Tell me exactly how posh I should dress, and we'll see where it goes?" He leans in, presses his lips softly to Dream's.

Dream hums into it, pleased, and palms his chest gently before pulling away. "Very well. Seven, tomorrow night. I will make us a reservation and text you the dress code."

Hob smiles, an effervescent sort of happiness bubbling up inside him. "Sounds perfect."

He finally puts his coveralls back in order after that, zipped just past the waist, and makes certain that the condoms are picked up and Dream gets his lube and his toy all collected before he shifts back into business mode. Dream is no more interested in cleaning his face before leaving today than he was yesterday so Hob moves on; he explains the repairs and runs Dream's credit card, then returns his keys and guides him in backing the Porsche out of the garage. Dream leans out the window once he's clear and Hob ducks down, delighted to get a final kiss.

"I'll be waiting to hear from you," he says, trying to temper the giddy anticipation he feels against the reality of their acquaintance, and Dream's soft smile turns sultry around the edges.

"I will be counting the hours until I see you again, Hob Gadling," he purrs, and drives off.

The way the Porsche jerks when he shifts after turning the corner makes Hob wince.

Maybe, if they do continue whatever this is beyond a single dinner date, maybe Hob can give him some tips on driving stick so he doesn't burn out the new clutch.

Then again, the more Dream abuses his poor car, the more excuse he'll have to invoke his 'loyalty rewards'.

And Hob doesn't think that's such a bad thing, in the end.

= Started: 5/4/24 Drafted: 9/17/24 Posted: 9/21/24

[ashbeneviento]

Alkaloids of a Lady

Donna Beneviento x Fem!reader. Slow burn, will contain smut at some point, tags will be updated. Reader is named but only title/Last name! Contains 1st and 2nd chapter. No beta reader, sorry for any grammar mistakes! Thanks for reading :)

Chapter One

As fast as the good of the day came so did the bad. You had been sitting in this chair for so long sweat was making your thighs stick. You squirm at the uncomfortable sensation and refrain from audibly announcing your boredom.

A cough from the other side of the room catches your attention, a cocky and greasy man who gives you a seductive wink the second you make eye contact with him. Feeling the knot twist in your stomach you quickly avert your eyes back to the goddess who still isn’t finished with her speech.

There you were, the only Lady who wasn’t given Mother Miranda’s dark gift, sitting in the middle of all five of them. Six if you counted the little pest supposedly named Angie, all because you needed the cults help. Miranda kept her most devout followers in constant stress with you. They despised their Mother’s grace towards you..to them, you were just as low as a common villager despite your status.

A status that you were born into, not blessed with by a stroke of luck. Miranda promised no harm to your family as long as you respected her status as goddess, and so the village has lived under dual rule for centuries. For whatever reason this caused her lords a piculiar revirily with you, like playing a game that wasn’t done all at once. One that you didn’t know they were playing, too.

It wasn’t unusual that you’d find yourself here either, joining meetings was mandatory and you had to keep up the act. Dissect the cult of the black god, act as a devout follower. Learn their weaknesses. Formulate the plan to eradicate.

But even you were getting restless as Miranda kept up the same spiel. Her plans never change, she never acts out of her facade. It made you antsy. You need to see them all fall in your lifetime. You would make your ancestors proud by being the one to take it all for yourselves.

You saw the perfect opportunity much to your mothers dismay due to your condition. Having any sort of ailment was like a moth to a flame with Miranda you’ve noticed. Once you had convinced her that you were so devoted, so desperate you would sacrifice yourself to her dark gift you had succeeded further than any Acheron before you. No, you mustn’t stop now. Not when you were so clo-….

“Lady Acheron?”

The sound of the goddess’s voice startles you out of your thoughts, causing an eruption of laughter from that same greasy man from earlier. He’s quickly berated by the monolith of a woman Lady Dimitrescu who stares down at you as she does, but not because she cared about you.

“Enough, Karl..” Miranda hisses, siliencing the both of them as she steps down from her stage, walking towards you with a surprisingly feather light step for a predator.

“Wait ails you little bird? Are you feeling alright?” She asks in a sickingly sweet voice that leaves honey on your own. You hated the blatant infantilizion in front of the others. Her sharp nail guards feel like ice as she grips your face awaiting your answer, staring down at you with those equally icey eyes.

“Just feeling more sickly today than usual, Mother” you lie effortlessly to her, making her give in to your plan unknowingly with that practiced tremble in your tone.

“I know little bird..” she whispers, turning your head side to side in her grip, “That will all be over after tonight”

Despite being part of the plan, you were still very nervous. To be truthful you didn’t think this far ahead, only because you really couldn’t if you tried.

The dark gift affected each Lord differently. Many other subjects have fallen to it, dying before they even start mutating. Your chances of survival will be a hit or a miss, but the opportunities you could take if you lived outweighed all of it.

So you give her a shy smile and nod your head, clasping to her forearm in a facade of comfort and gratitude.

It should have stopped there. Your plan had been running smoothly right up until this moment when a huge wall comes crashing down in front of it’s path due to a certain Lord.

“She is not loyal, Mother.”

Everyone in the room turned their heads to the raspy voice rarely heard outside the lips of her rotten doll, who seemed more preoccupied with the strings on her tiny dress instead of conversation.

“I beg your pardon, Donna?” Miranda asks with a hint of annoyance in her tone, angry at her youngest freak for ruining the moment with her new experiment.

The phantom woman doesn’t budge for a moment until she gets the strength to turn her head towards you.

“Lady Acheron has not been truthful with you, Mother. Nor to all of us..our great family” Lady Beneviento says in a ghostly manner, making your skin crawl as your nails dig into the arms of your chair. Was it possible she found evidence on you? You were always so careful…there’s no way. Unless she used those evil mind tricks to-…

“Do you take me for a fool, Donna?” Miranda snaps, making both Donna and yourself scoot backwards into your chairs.

“The Acherons have been devoted to our great family for centuries, Child. They have no reason to stab our backs.” Miranda says as she turns to face you, expecting you to confirm her statement as true. If only you didn’t hesitate..

White eyes widen as her claws dig into your cheeks before pushing you away, catching your suspicious reaction and finding it worthy of investigating.

Much to your dismay however, was the way she planned on carrying it out.

You were to live, indefinitely, with the Lord who just upped herself on your hit list.

Chapter two

Two full weeks had passed since and you have yet to have the opportunity to investigate Lady Beneviento. Not only did this set back your plan of getting the dark gift, but now you were being watched like a..well, a crow. You suspect your family has since declared you dead, still believing you received it and not making it. Not like you could exactly tell them seeing as you had no way to contact them or anyone else here.

You did feel like life has ended however as you wandered down the same hallway you just came from. Realizing you were under a hallucination the third time around this never ending maze, your eyes make contact with the same painting on the wall with a sigh. But you were bored, and unfortunately lonely, so you kept walking regardless of the consequences.

Getting used to Lady Beneviento’s powers was a challenge at first. You were trained for this though, and soon was able to think clearly even in a intoxicated state by the third night. But something was different about this one, you could feel it as you walk towards the new doors along your path, a strange melody coming from behind them.

Pressing your ear up to the dark wood you hear someone who had yet to appear in your hallucinations. The one causing them.

You make the mistake of leaning too hard against the door making it creak from its old age, causing dream Donna to gasp and freeze in her tracks as you fall into the room.

“What are you doing in here?! Get out!” The phantom lady hisses at you, pointing at you as if her finger was a knife.

You stumble a little as you regain your composure, feeling a bit of confidence in knowing she wasn’t really there as you take a deep breath.

“I would if I could, but you won’t let me out of my own head. You should be the one to get. out” you snarl through clenched teeth, tilting your head to the side mockingly as you approach her.

She quickly shuffles around the desk, putting a barrier between the two of you. You squint at that, feeling geniune fear coming from her as you stop walking.

A hallucination wouldn’t do that, they know they can’t actually be harmed..

“You’re really here.. aren’t you?” You ask quietly, feeling an unwelcome feeling in your chest.

She hesitates to nod her head, her shoulders dropping in a form of relief. You’re terrified to be alone with the real her because she could interrogate you, prove herself to Miranda that she was right about you.. a traitor. All your hard work would be for nothing.

But the constant isolation in this house has made you grow wary. The need for companionship gnawed it’s jagged teeth into the back of your neck. And besides, you could turn this in your favor as well if you played the cards right..

“Please don’t make me go under again..” You ask in a practiced breathy tremble, giving her your best heartbroken expression.

Her feet shift against the floor as her chest moves off balance, her hand gripping onto the chair with white knuckles before taking a seat in it.

Why are you so nervous, Lady Beneviento? You note in your head, keeping up the facade by sitting in the chair opposite of her. She fidgets with the end of her veil, an uneasy silence falling between the two of you alone in that room.

It at least gave you time to scan said room, noting that it looked like an office and a workshop. You shiver a little upon seeing the various doll and mannequin parts hanging from the ceiling, and instead refocus on your target.

“I’m sorry..” Her gentle rasp disrupts the quiet, making you flinch in your seat.

“I’m not used to..guests” she finishes, speech being broken from little use.

“You mean you’re not used to guests living” you correct her in a wave of spite, immediately regretting your decision when her veiled head tilts.

“I thought it wasn’t an issue per our family’s contract what I do with my guests, Lady Acheron. I see that it strikes a nerve with you, why is that?” she asks darkly, leaning forward across the desk like a cat ready to pounce. It made your stomach churn but you kept calm despite your slip up.

Instead you opt for the more sympathetic approach, letting the tears flood your eyes and lowering your eyes to your lap so they fall.

“I’m just scared..I don’t understand why you’re doing this when I need help. I devote myself to Mother Miranda since birth, and yet you all still despise me. And now I’m stuck here with you knowing that you hate me and I feel so alone..” you ramble on between sobs, feeling too in character when your own words hurt to speak.

You hadn’t registered her hand had slipped on top of yours until you move it to wipe your eyes, making you both gasp and sit back into your chairs.

Why would she..

“I’m sorry…” she mutters, folding her hands into her lap instead.

“I just.. I do not hate you. I am not like my siblings” she whispers, but it’s loud enough for you to hear.

Surely this was just a mind trick, she was known for them after all. Right?

“You do not hate me, yet you lied to Mother Miranda and ruined my chances of being cured” you say plainly, mimicking her by folding your hands into your lap.

“You knew you didn’t have evidence on me, but you did it anyway. Why?” You ask, noticing all her physical tells of nervousness and she thinks of an answer.

Which card would she pull next in this little game?

“You wouldn’t be cured” The phantom woman rasps under her veil, her voice not matching her nervous body language.

“What?” You snap back at her, but she doesn’t flinch and that worries you. She’s being serious…

“You think you know me, don’t you? You think you have the cult all figured out. You plan on eliminating us” she continues, her tone increasing in volume making sweat dampen your palms. If this is how you’ll get answers then so be it.

“…But you don’t know what you’re really up against. You will die the second you try anything and that is not only a promise it is a warning” Donna growls as she leans closer again. You can almost feel her gaze under that dark fabric.

“The cadou is not stable. It’s unreliable and she knows it. You would either die from it, or you would die for it. Once you survive you will be indebted to it. To her.”

The last of her words crack, and you get the feeling she’s talking about her own experience to solidify her warning. You know you shouldn’t trust her, but you want to. You don’t know why, but you crave to.

She could give you everything you needed to know, but there was another desire in you because of it. The latter shattered a great deal of how you felt about the lords and their ties Mother Miranda..

“So what do you suppose I do, hm? Because either way I will die. My illness is only getting worse, Lady Beneviento. You worship the ground Mother Miranda touches just as we all do, yet you benefit the most from it. I’m starting to wonder if you worry your status will lessen if I join the ranks..” you scoff, egging her on to slip up on accident if she was lying.

“I won’t let her hurt another!” She screams as her hands hit the desk, making you jump back deep into your chair at the sudden outburst.

“W-what..” you gasp but she interrupts,

“We were so close.. so close” she groans to herself, putting her hands up to her head as if it pained her.

“What do you mean?” You ask a little more clearly, watching her pace back and forth behind the desk as you heart beats rapidly in your chest.

“We had it all planned out. She has become too powerful.. she could care less about us..” She rants as she paces.

“The night we planned to kill her was thwarted all because of a baby. Instead of going to the chapel for our meeting, she had flew off to welcome the brat into the world. Bless it or whatever myth you humans believe her to do..” she rasps before pointing a finger down at you.

“You were born sick. She knew you were the perfect vessel for her true daughter. We couldn’t interfere with you..she worried we would let it slip” she continues, letting out a small laugh of disbelief once she realizes she did exactly that, and that made you feel ill.

The Lords wanted Miranda dead. They didn’t want you around because they knew what their leader wanted to do to you, and if she succeeded she would be even more dangerous to them. Harder for them to defeat.

“We want her dead, too..” you whisper, feeling exposed the second her head turns towards you again. An unnerving silence falls back between the two of you before the air shifts into something far worse.

Was she really on your side,

Or was it all a mind trick?

***notes**

I’m not sure if I like how I fleshed the characters out just yet, unfortunately without my meds my work tends to be more scattered :( let me know what you think! Is Donna telling the truth? What’s your theories about readers “illness”?

[darkmxgician]

Said & Done- Part 1

After meeting an alluring stranger you fall fast, not realising that he’s about to pull you back in to the dangerous world you’ve tried so hard to escape from.

pairing: fem!reader x noah. tags: swearing, just fluff here

word count: 1.6k

story song: burning out

taglist: @sorrowsofsilence @angelsdevils @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @montgomery-929496. lmk if you want to be added to the taglist

18+ below the cut

I wake up covered in sweat. The last embers of my nightmare tugging me into a sense of fear and dread. I couldn’t tell what was real and my fight or flight started to kick in. Adrenaline began to course through my body, making me aware of every shadow in my dark bedroom. Sleep definitely wasn’t going to come to me again anytime soon, so I pulled myself out of bed and changed into my gym clothes. Rushing to get away from the silence of my home. Stepping out into the cool night air was blissful on my sweat soaked skin and I savoured it whilst I walked to my car. The streets were quiet during the drive, my ancient car stereo playing the mixtape I had in earlier, I’d listened to it so many times it just faded into the background. Thankfully the gym is always empty at 3am, I chose this specific gym for that reason, even though it’s further from my house. I had already gotten a workout in today, but the dreams that haunt me always leave me feeling restless, with a need to purge some of the energy from my system. I use my keycard to get in as reception is closed, I usually make a beeline for the weights and then follow that with a quick run on the treadmill, but tonight feels different. I need to hit something, so I make my way up the stairs, the rooms above the main floor have various equipment, and I head straight for the one with the punching bags. 

I push open the double doors and stop in my tracks. I’ve never come across anyone else here at this time before, but my luck has just run out. And it’s not just anyone, it’s the tall dark stranger who has been watching me since I started coming here over a year ago. Give by sleep token is blasting from a speaker as he does push ups with one arm behind his back. He looks up at me, through his sweat drenched hair that shields the full force of his beauty. He stops and slowly, gracefully pushes himself up so he’s kneeling, his depthless brown eyes locked on me, assessing me. My mouth goes dry, I’ve never seen him this close before, I can’t help but study the tattoos that adorn his shoulders, arms, his bare chest, and even his neck. He continues to look at me, panting from his workout that I interrupted. My palms start to sweat, “s-sorry, there’s never usually anyone in here at this time” I stammer, as he raises a brow at my accent. The stranger stands in one smooth motion, and covers the space between us in two steps. Suddenly he’s towering over me, his large frame seems to suck all the light out of the room and I take a shaky breath and look up. He cocks his head to one side, his wet hair following the movement, “don’t you usually workout during the day?”. His American accent was rich and deep, I could feel the bass from his voice in my very bones. I stopped shying away from his stare and looked up, “I-I couldn’t sleep. I need to burn off some, energy, before I can even attempt it again”, cursing myself for stuttering I manage to keep my eyes on his, the intensity of his gaze making my stomach do backflips, I couldn’t help but smile at the stranger. And when he smiled back, I knew I was done for. 

“I’m Noah”, he smiles down at me, “y/n” I reply. I’m having to stop myself from grinning, I’ve never felt this connected to someone I just met before. I could feel my cheeks starting to go red, I have to force myself to look away so he doesn’t notice. “You like sleep token?”, I nod to the speaker in the corner, listening to the intro to gods, at least I didn’t stutter again. I have to try and find neutral ground with the stranger. I need to know him, I feel drawn to him, like there’s a thread between our two bodies, pulling me in. I dare to look up when he doesn’t answer, and he’s just staring at me, his smile keeps getting brighter, his eyes almost glowing. I’ve been in here for all of five minutes and I’m losing it over a complete stranger, what is wrong with me? He reaches out and pushes my hair behind my ear, bringing his hand under my chin and forcing me to look up. “I thought you were beautiful from afar, y/n, but up close I can’t help but stare. You’re captivating”. We’re stood so close, his touch sending electric currents through my entire body. I lose every thought in my head. It’s not just physical attraction, and trust me, that’s there. If any other man had just said to that to me, I’d laugh in their face. Why did it make me want to swoon when he says it? I can’t help but lean into his touch, his hands are calloused, his fingers stroking my skin, so smooth in comparison. My eyes flutter shut at his caress and I almost purr, putting a hand on his chest for balance as I force my eyes open again. The music goes off and is replaced by a ringtone, interrupting our embrace. “Fuck”. Noah rests his forehand on mine for a moment, and he’s gone, sighing as he releases me. He stalks over to the speaker, grabbing his phone, “yeah. I told you, I’m at the gym. I can’t right now. For fuck sake, Nick. Yeah. I’ll be 10 minutes”. I realise I was watching and listening to his private conversion so I quickly pull my phone up. Opening the settings app so it looks like I’m scrolling and texting. “I have to go”, he makes his way back over to me and scoops by chin up again, more forceful this time. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a while y/n, and I believe something wanted us to cross paths tonight”, he takes a deep breath, “meet me here, same time tomorrow?”. I blink in shock, he wants to see me again? I try not to make a habit of coming to the gym at this time, but seeing him is all the motivation I need. “Okay, sure”, I smile up at him. “Good girl”, he replies, so quietly I almost miss it. I almost go slack. “Until tomorrow, y/n”, he places a light kiss on my forehead, grabs his belongings, and stalks out of the gym. What the fuck just happened?

The next day goes by agonisingly slow, I can’t concentrate on a thing. I keep checking my phone, even knowing in the blazing sunlight that it’s not 3am yet. I try to distract myself and keep busy, working on some unfinished paintings, reading, none of it works. I give in and go to my room, hoping to use sleep to carry me towards my time with Noah. 

I wake with a start, the alarm on my phone blaring next to me. 1AM. I gave myself enough time to make a little effort, working my hair into plaits and tying the ends in twin buns at the base of my skull. I curl my eyelashes and dab a small amount of concealer under my eyes, and rub in some lip liner and gloss on my lips. The time is passing too fast now, I put on my workout clothes and rush out to my car, feeling both nervous and excited.

The gym is quiet as usual, I presume Noah wants to meet in the workout room upstairs, so I make my way up. I try to slow my pace as I walk through the double doors, where 24 hours ago I met the strange man that has my heart racing. He’s sat cross legged on one of the mats on the floor, my eyes instantly find his as he looks up. “Y/n, you came”, my stomach does a flip at the sight of him, like my body forgot how beautiful he is, what he makes me feel. He strides over to me and pulls me into his arms, “I didn’t think you’d show”. I melt into him. Like I could just stay home, I’ve always been curious, and he’s alluring and mysterious, nothing could keep me from him. “I did tell you I would”, he chuckles at that and pulls back so he can look at me. All my nerves from last night have vanished, I feel confident enough to ask, “so why did you want me to come?”. My intrigue always getting the better of me. “I wanted to see you again, I thought maybe we could workout together?”. I raise my eyebrows at him. “Not like that” he chuckles again, “I’m not hitting on you, I just thought we could get to know each other whilst we train, I could use the company”. He looks sheepish at the omission. He wants me to train with him? He’s twice the size of me, both in height and width. How could I ever keep up? “I’d like that, but why me? Surely there’s plenty of guys here who could help you, who are more equipped than me”. I feel nervous again all of a sudden, I'm physically fit but there's no way I could be on the same level as him. My thoughts race, until he smirks at me, his eyes sweeping down my body, “but none who look like you, y/n”. And he grins again, as irresistible as last night. Who could say no to that? 

And so we begin. 

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Trine [7]

Anselm Vogelweide X Blue Jones X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Part One • Trine Masterlist • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • request info • ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: Anselm and you have meetings all day, and Blue isn't amused.

A/N: This hasn't been proofread, I don't know what I'm doing or what happened this just sort of appeared in my brain.

Warnings: crying, Blue being a bit bratty and then emotional and needy, Blue having emotions?? Whaaat?, oral (m! receiving), reader is married to Anselm, Anselm refers to reader as ‘my love’, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 2813

Blue glares daggers (and bullets and some kind of illegal toxin that makes its victim's skin fall off) at the man sitting opposite you. He couldn’t be bothered to learn his name, refused to, he was fed up of all of the useless and boring people that had been demanding your time today.

His expression quickly changed when you noticed him standing in your office doorway, he smiled sweetly at you, batting his eyes and walking over when you grinned. 

“Hello, sweet thing.” You say softly, moving a little and pushing your chair out from your desk a fraction. 

Blue leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek then nuzzling into your neck and breathing deeply.

“You okay?” You whisper. 

“Hmm, I miss you.” He mutters, putting on the sweetest voice you have ever heard while sneaking a vicious scowl at the gentleman you were having a meeting with. Practically snarling. 

You knew exactly what Blue was doing. 

But you liked to indulge him. 

“Aww,” you say, lightly stroking his hair. He presses himself closer to your hand, like a pampered housecat. “I won’t be much longer, I promise.” 

He pouts lightly, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Come sit with me while I finish this meeting?” 

He grins wickedly the second you finish speaking and climbs eagerly into your lap when you tap your thighs. Warmth rolls off his body as he settles, kissing your neck lightly and wrapping his arms around you before he looks back across your desk. 

He maintains eye contact with your meeting as he puts his heels up on the edge of your polished wooden desk, something he has asked your permission about before. He wiggles his house slippers, trying to be as much of an annoyance to the man as possible. 

To his credit, the man glances quickly back to you, and stays quiet. 

You tut lightly and with humour, gently tapping Blue’s shin. “Behave.” 

Blue chuckles. “I’m sorry.” He whispers in your ear, very unapologetically with unbridled glee in his voice. 

You nod, “Continue Theo.”

Blue rolls his eyes, ugh, as the man across starts to talk. Some nonsense about profits and manufacturing and blah, blah, blah. 

You answer every now and then, occasionally questioning and nodding. Blue likes it when you talk, the way your voice rumbles through your chest into his skin. The sounds of your sweet and silky voice forming the syllables. 

You don’t get up when Theo finishes and thanks you for your time, due to Blue, but you do shake his hand. 

Blue nearly throws a punch when Theo has the gall to ghost his lips over your knuckles. The only thing that stops him is your hand on his waist. 

You wait until he’s left and your office door is closed before you regard Blue with a smirk. 

He grabs your hand hastily, and licks over the spot Theo’s lips touched before he sucks on your skin.

You chuckle at his little display, at the frown that has formed on his forehead. “Did Anselm kick you out of his office?” 

Blue pouts, and eventually pulls his mouth back far enough to answer you. “No.” 

“No?” 

“He was being dull.”

You laugh. “Dull?” You tease.

“He said I was a distraction. And he was ignoring me.” 

“Aw, poor baby.” 

Blue nods, squirming a little in your lap. “I am.”

You stroke his hair with your free hand. 

“He wouldn’t even let me sit near him.” He sulks, “I had to sit on a regular chair with the other people. Like I was just some business associate.” He grumbles, his frown growing. 

You bite your lips together to stop your smile, you’d never seen Blue in quite such a bad mood. 

The agreement had been that Anselm would keep Blue with him while you attended to your meetings today. 

Blue keeps your hand close, squeezing it rhythmically. You don’t think he consciously realises what he’s doing.

“He’s really upset you, hasn’t he?” You ask softly and Blue nods. 

“Yes.” His voice is grumpy and rough, a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

“I’ll make sure he makes it up to you later, hmm?” You stroke your fingers down to his chin, taking hold of it and lightly turning him to fully face you. 

He shrugs, the pout still on his lips. 

Oh, Anselm had really upset him. 

“What did he do?” 

Blue’s eyes flick to you before looking back at your hand. “Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” 

“Hmm.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” You tease, trying to lighten his mood. But he just sighs and just snuggles closer to you, curling up and pressing his head into your chest. 

“Hey,” you say gently, wrapping your arms around him and kissing the top of his head. “You’re ours, you know that right? We love you very much.” 

“You love me.” He grumbles, and you laugh.

“We love you.”

“Hmm.” 

You squeeze him tighter, just holding him for a moment while he relaxes into your embrace. 

“I could get him in here right now,” you say, “make him get on his knees and stuff his mouth with you until you forgive him?” 

Blue snorts but shakes his head. 

Oh, now that’s really, really worrying you. You pause, thinking. “We could go home? I could put you in that chair I’ve told you about, the one dildo and fleshlight?” 

He squirms a little at that, his breathing hitching ever so slightly as he buries his face further into your neck. But it’s still not the reaction you’d come to expect from him.

A little smile spreads across your face, “I have another meeting.” You say softly, and you feel the scowl on his face. “Come on, sit up.” 

He groans a little, but does as you ask, expecting to have to get off and leave. Instead you guide him into sitting with his feet flat on the floor and his back against your chest. 

“Keep your hands on the armrests, understand?” 

He swallows and nods, curiosity mixing with arousal as you unzip his trousers. He’s unsurprisingly hard.

Blue whines the second your fingers touch his length, pressing back closer to you and moaning lightly. 

“You know what to say if you want me to stop, yes?” 

He nods, swallowing. “Yes.” 

“Good.” You kiss his temple and then lean to the side and hit the intercom to your receptionist with your free hand. “Send them in.” 

Blue squirms, his breathing catching in his throat as he fights to keep his hips still. 

“You like being on show for me?” You whisper in his ear, kissing just below. 

He nods, pressing his back as close as he can to your chest. Something settles uncomfortably in his chest, normally this would be driving him crazy. He’d want an audience, demand one. But now…

“Wait…” He grabs your free hand, suddenly unsettled. “I don’t want…” 

“Blue?” 

“Yellow.” He repeats and you stop instantly, quickly hitting the intercom, “Cancel that, I’m not ready for the next meeting.” 

Your receptionist's voice replies with a quick confirmation. 

“Blue,” you kiss his cheek while you rub his arm, “my sweet.”

He nuzzles into you, letting out a little heartbreaking sigh. 

“I need you to speak with me. Is that alright?”

He nods, fiddling with your fingers. You know it’s difficult for him, communicating. There are walls inside him where most only have open fields. 

“What did Anselm do?” You ask gently. 

“Nothing.” 

You let it rest for a moment. 

“It’s me,” Blue says shyly, his voice almost timid. “He didn’t do anything.”

“What happened?” You kiss his temple and he lets out a little soft whimper. 

“I was being…”

“Dramatic?” You tease playfully. 

“Difficult.” He rephrases, but there’s humour in his voice. “As normal.” He threads his fingers with yours and holds his hand close to his chest. 

“Anselm likes it when you’re difficult.” 

“I know. And he was only doing what we normally do, I’m… bratty. And he ignores me and then pretends to get annoyed and then…”

“He punishes you.” 

He squirms a little, his skin flushing with heat as he nods. “Yeah…”

“And you like that normally.” He nods.

“What was different this time?” 

“I… I don’t know.” He swallows, his voice thick. “It felt… I didn’t like him ignoring me.” He presses his face to your chest. “I didn’t like it… it felt… upsetting.” 

You listen, giving him room to speak. 

“And then…” He swallows again, “I didn’t tell him I didn’t like it, I know I should have… but I didn’t want to, in front of the other people.” 

You nod. “I understand.” You soothe. “You know if you had he would have doted on you? Either fucked you in front of them or sent them all out to do it in private.” 

Blue nods against you. “I know, I know he would. Part of me… the…” he taps his head, “knows he would have. But,” he presses both hands, and yours in the process, to his chest. “Here was…” His voice breaks a little.

“It’s alright,” you kiss his head again, squeezing him into a hug. 

“I should have told him.” 

“Sometimes it’s difficult to do things, I understand.” 

He nods, swallowing and blinking hard. 

“It’s good you came to me though. Better to come to one of us or both rather than just be alone.”

“Hmm,” he lets go of your hand to rub at his eyes. 

You let him for a moment and then tilt his head up. There’s wetness on his cheeks. 

You kiss his nose, his forehead and cheeks until he’s smiling. 

“I’m going to get our husband,” you kiss his temple. 

Blue gives you a dopey love sick smile at your turn of phrase, “You don’t have to, I don’t want to bother either of you-”

You shake your head, kissing his nose again. “You are never a bother.” You smile. “Unless it’s in a fun, oh no, you’re so naughty way.” 

He smiles, pressing closer to your neck as you. 

You call Anselm, who answers immediately, and speak quickly in rapid fire German to explain the situation. Blue tries to listen and pick out words as best he can, but the conversation is lost on him. 

When you put your phone down you gently urge Blue to get up and fully redress himself before guiding him out of your office and further down the corridor. 

You take him to a side room, using your thumbprint to unlock the door and lead him inside. 

It’s fair size, decorated in lots of dark wood and wine red. It reminds Blue a little of a fancy presidential suite, but with more touches that are tailored to your and Anselm’s tastes.

“I didn’t know you had somewhere like this here,” he says quietly, touching the bookshelf.

“It hasn’t been used in a while, there was a time when business was a little more unstable.”

His eyebrows pinch together and there’s a rawness in his gaze. He nods, looking a little frail and lost. 

“Here,” you take his hand and sit him down on the large plush sofa, wrapping your right hand over his shoulders as you rest next to him. 

He presses closer instantly, snuggling into your embrace. He breathes deeply, his lips against your neck, the action quickly becoming light kisses to your skin. 

“Blue,” you say softly, trying to deny the heat that pools in your stomach. “You don’t have to.” 

He whines gently for you, the sound almost purring. “Need you, always need you.” He mutters, littering your jaw with kisses until his lips find yours. 

His mouth is hot and needy, desperate as he strokes your tongue with his own. His hands pull at your hips, urging you closer. 

He breaks the kiss for a moment to undo and pull off his shirt, leaving it uncharacteristically in a hasty mess on the floor. 

You run your hands through his hair when he kisses you again, dragging your nails across his scalp and grinning when he shivers and sighs. 

Blue doesn’t hear when the door opens, too lost in the feel of you, but you do. You open your eyes as Anselm walks in quickly. There’s a pained expression on his face. 

You kiss Blue’s cheek, moving back and holding his jaw softly but firmly when he tries to follow you. 

“My kleine blau,” Anselm’s voice rumbles as he reaches the sofa and sits down behind him. 

Blue turns, looking down and hesitant. Embarrassed, you realise. 

“I didn’t mean to get you out of your meeting-” Blue begins, but is cut off by Anselm’s hand on his cheek, pulling him closer, and his tongue down his throat. 

Blue whines softly into the embrace, reaching back and tangling his fingers in Anselm’s wild hair. 

You lean up and run your tongue along his collarbone, sucking at his pulse point. Blue’s muffled cry raises in pitch as he grabs hold of your shoulders, pulling you closer. 

“I did not realise you were distressed, my love,” Anselm mutters between kisses, his voice low with lust but also pinched with worry. “You are more important than any meeting.” He doesn’t give Blue a chance to answer, swallowing his words every time he tries. “Ever. The most important.” 

Anselm moves, lightly touching the back of your neck and pressing warm kisses to your lips. “Thank you for telling me.” 

You smile and stroke your husband's cheek. He rests against your palm instantly, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry for-” Blue tries to start again.

“Nothing. You are sorry for nothing.” Anselm growls while you kiss Blue to silence him. 

“Our Blue,” you mutter into his mouth. 

“Our Blue.” Anselm echos as he kisses down Blue’s chest. 

Blue moans, squirming ever so slightly as Anselm undoes his belt and slides his trousers from his hips. 

“You don’t have to…” He groans loudly as you suck a love bite into the spot just below his ear. 

“We want to,” you whisper as Anselm removes his boxers and flicks his tongue against Blue’s tip. 

He gasps, muscles twitching as he bucks up. 

“Poor thing,” Anselm hums, “being so needy for so long.” 

Blue bites his lip and nods, his eyes rolling back as Anselm sucks the head of his cock into his warm mouth. He lets out a string of whimpers and expletives, mumbled pleads as he gasps for air. 

He presses his head back against the sofa, sinking into the sensations and grabs for both you and Anselm, taking your hand in his left and Anselm’s in his right. 

Anselm sinks lower, taking him further into the tight heat of his mouth.

“Please, please, please,” he whines, not really knowing what he’s saying fully. He squeezes both of your hands desperately, needing you both so badly that it’s painful. 

He hiccups, gasps, “I…” but doesn’t know what he wants to ask for. 

“Here.” Anselm pulls away and presses at the back of Blue’s thighs, practically bending him in half on himself. He licks up the length of him before moving down and lapping at his balls. 

Blue cries out, shivering and shaking in both of your arms. 

Anselm licks lower, “my love?” He nods to you and you know what he plans instantly. 

You move down and flick your tongue over Blue’s slit as your husband dips his head and spreads Blue wider. 

Blue mewls, practically sobbing as you sink deeper, swallowing around his cock as Anselm licks his hole at the same instant. 

“Oh,” he bites his lip, his hips bucking and stomach clenching as you bob your head and Anselm laps. “Oh, god.”

He’s going to faint, he’s going to pass out from the feeling. Both of your mouths so hot and wet and perfect, focused completely on him while he writhes at your mercy. 

The tight ball of pleasure twists and tightens desperately in his stomach, tingles along his veins. His emotions twirl, combine and threaten to pull him under so suddenly. 

The head of his cock bumps against the back of your throat as you swallow, just as Anselm presses the tip of his tongue inside. 

“I’m, I’m,” Blue bites his lip, trying to stop himself but finding himself wanting. “I’m gonna cum.”

Both of you moan as he speaks, the hum vibrating so desirously along his nerves, making him delirious from pleasure. 

He cries out, his back arching as he comes. 

You swallow eagerly as he spurts down your throat, coming and coming so hard that his voice breaks from his scream. 

It’s only when his muscles finally relax that you both break your mouths away from him, kissing up his stomach and nuzzle against his skin, wrapping your arms around Blue and hugging him tightly. 

He breathes deeply, sweat cooling on his flushed skin, as he clings onto you both, needing the safety of your embrace. 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

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[silverryu25]

i would love to see sci-fi day 6 star wars with the prompt “Have you forgotten how it all ended last time?” :)

Nonny... I have so little knowledge of Star wars but... this kinda hit a plot bunny so I hope you like! XD

DAY 6 - Star Wars + “Have you forgotten how it all ended last time?”

Tag warnings: implied suicide (briefly and in a "I should have done it" way)

---------------

It was peaceful.

Nothing was happening today. Just like yesterday. And the day before. And before that.

It's been years, though it felt like eons, since anything changed here. No one ever came to this place, not since he got here and made it his home. His aura permeated into the ground and the air, making it inhospitable to anyone and anything.

It was exactly what he wanted.

What he deserved.

What he imposed on himself.

But today... today he felt the emptiness. It slithered into his thoughts, his mind feeling as if it was crawling with his past sins. He could even feel them crawling down his back, making him feel restless. So instead of meditating or just trying to sleep through the fog of negativity that enveloped him, he decided to expend some energy.

The loneliness and emptiness was replaced by rage as he swung his lightsaber.

The flashes of red spread all around him, digging into the piles of old abandoned wreckage of AT-AT walkers, AT-ST transports, cloud cars, AAT's, AAC-1's and many, many more. A graveyard left after many battles. Abandoned to rot and decay, just like he was. Just like he earned through his own stupidity and greed.

Now here he was, adding to that destruction. If he let himself think deeper about his actions he might have realized how symbolic the destruction he was spreading around him was to what he was doing to his own mind and soul. But he didn't. He never did. Thinking would mean acknowledging the guilt that festered in his soul and that would break him because he would have to think about.............

With a roar of rage he swung his lightsaber, splitting the largest piece of wreckage in front of him. He continued swinging until he couldn't anymore. Until all his energy was depleted and all he could do was fall on his knees and pant. Breath coming in harsh desperate gulps, air his body didn't really need to live but his mind needed to drown out his own thoughts.

He wouldn't let himself think.

He couldn't let himself think.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans for him

Just as his breathing stilled and he started focusing on the rage that he forced to burn inside himself, he felt it. A stab in his soul, as sharp as a lightsaber slashing through his ribs and directly into his corrupted soul.

Dread. Fear. Guilt. Fear. Anger. Fear. Hate. Fear. Longing. Fear. Desperation. Fear. Need. Fear. Lo- Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear.

He could feel his eyelights extinguish as the fear took over everything else. He was spiraling so fast, so hard, so completely, that he didn't even notice the soft footsteps making their way slowly towards his kneeling form from the back.

The soft taps of slippered feet felt like hammer strikes into his soul.

He wanted to flee, but he couldn't. His legs wouldn't move. Wouldn't lift him from the desolate ground he deserved to dust into.

Then they stopped and there was only silence left.

Silence except for the rush of his magic into his skull. It was screaming fear to him.

'run away!' His mind screamed at him. 'hide! don't let him see you! don't let him see what you became'!

But he couldn't.

The silence stretched forever, neither of them moving. Neither of them wanted to speak first. Neither of them knew exactly what to say. He didn't know how much longer his soul could take this silence, how much longer he could keep himself from falling apart. Or worse.

Thankfully, mercifully, the other spoke first.

'red.' His tone was gentle but carried the weight of Red's world in it.

Red felt his whole body shiver from that one word as it came from his mouth. It was like lightning struck his very soul, making his whole body quake. It was time...

"heh," his voice cracked, he hadn't used it for anything but screaming in rage for years. "yer finally 'ere."

There wasn't an answer, only calm silence and cool refreshing magic combined with a powerful force washing over Red's frame.

"wha'? not gonna talk ta me before ya finish me off?" Red barely kept his voice from cracking. "ya changed sans."

The name felt so sweet as it left his teeth, even as bile rose behind them at the implication of his own words. Sans was here to do the one thing Red couldn't make himself do. The one thing Red should have done to atone for his crimes. The one thing he should have done to save Sans from himself. He should have ended it before Sans had to dirty his hands.

There was no reply and Red didn't expect any.

So he just sat there, accepting.

Waiting for the final blow that would free him of this horrid world that took the only thing that he ever truly loved from him. The one thing he was cursed to love but not have. The only thing that made living worth it but was forbidden to him.

Waiting for Sans to end their curse forever.

Waiting for his final judgment for daring to love.

Love wasn't allowed for a Jedi. It would consume them. But Red was weak, he let love enslave him, let it make him want more than he was allowed. It was a crack in his soul that left him open to his inevitable fall into the dark side.

Red loved Sans and he would love to die by his hands.

He waited for the sound of the lightsaber, for that gorgeous blue glow to shine from his back and stab through his soul.

Instead, a pair of skeletal arms grabbed him from the back and pressed him into a bony chest.

He froze in place, unable to process what was happening.

The warmth from the embrace felt both incredibly painful and wonderfully familiar. He could feel his magic gathering on the edges of his eyesockets. Was Sans trying to torture him before he ended it? He wasn't that cruel before, but Red definitely deserved it after everything he had done.

Suddenly, he felt Sans' body shake as it pressed impossibly closer, hugging him even tighter. Was Sans... crying?

"s-swe-," Red almost slipped up, but he wasn't allowed to call Sans pet names, not anymore. "sans?"

All he got in return was an unintelligible mumble from the teeth pressed into his shoulder.

"wha'?"

"..." Sans moved his head to the side, facing away from Red. "you idiot."

"...?" Red was too stunned by the emotion in Sans' voice. What was happening?

"why did you leave?!"

"wha'?" Red tried turning around, but the arms around him held him firmly in place. "wha' da ya mean? ya know what i did an-"

Sans grabbed his shoulders at a speed not even Red could keep up with and twisted him around. Their feet tangled as Red's body was twisted and Red fell backward, Sans landing on top of him, still holding his shoulders. Their faces were close. Too close.

"i don't care about that!" Sans yelled and Red's sockets snapped wide open. He never saw Sans yell before. "why did you leave me behind you moron?!"

Silence followed Sans' question as they both stared at each other. Sans' eyelights dug holes in Red's, emotions Red didn't think he would ever see in them burning like two supernovas.

It didn't feel real.

“sans," Red was almost sure he was hallucinating. "have ya forgotten how it all ended last time?”

Instead of a reply, Sans glared at Red, eyelights burning impossibly hot with an emotion Red would never have dreamed he would see in those beautiful white eyelights. But before Red could fully process what he was seeing, Sans leaned down and pressed his teeth to Red's.

A spark of magic spread from the contact and through Red's whole body. He could feel his own magic and force ignite. His whole body felt as if it was burning. As if it was alive again.

The moment Sans pulled back Red let out a whine. It wasn't enough. He needed more.

"i don't care." Sans breathed out, before he closed the gap between them again and deepened the kiss.

It felt magical.

It felt unreal.

It felt like a lie.

But Red didn't care. 

Reality could go fuck itself.

Sans was here and Red would never let him go.

---------------

This got a bit long >.>

For anyone confused about what the hell is going on (cause I have no idea how clear I managed to make it ^_^;;;): Red was a Jedi, he fell in love with Sans, the dark side noticed and used that love to get Red to work for them. Red did some very bad things for the Sith... but when he ended up in a battle where he almost hurt Sans he ran away. And hid on an abandoned planet. But Sans found him >:3

Hope you like this! And I hope I didn't butcher the Star Wars lore too bad XD

[pentanguine]

Favorite Books of 2023

So I didn’t quite get to it in January, but I did finally finish this list!! (And as always, I'm longwinded)

My reading taste was all over the place last year. I intended for it to be the year I read neglected fantasy trilogies gathering dust on my bookshelf, but instead I joined a book club for grad school and got shoved out of my comfort zone; ended up with a boyfriend (now ex, aka EBF) and read anything and everything he recommended; suddenly got into nonfiction and horror for no explicable reason; joined another book club for work and ended up reading even more books outside my wheelhouse; and discovered that I enjoyed hate-reading books during slow periods at work and on my lunch break. It was a mess. But somehow, a few favorites came out of it!

1. The Full-Moon Whaling Chronicles by Jason Guriel– What the fuck even is this book. It’s a book about a book about teenage werewolves on a quest to outwit some pirates and recover a lost treasure. It’s the story of a young woman in a post-climate crisis earth living in a Gothic mansion in Japan and questing for her favorite author inside a high-tech diorama. It’s about the aftermath of environmental destruction, invasive technology and autonomy, the power of fandom and transforming stories through your love for them, fathers (love for, betrayal by, forgiveness of), and worlds within worlds. It asks meaty questions about the role of technology in generating change for the better and creating hope when that same tech is eroding what it even means to be human and experience reality. It’s the kind of cli-fi that offers hope, that’s warm, that makes you think of alternatives. It’s dense with speculative worldbuilding and plays dizzyingly with metafiction, and the whole damn thing is written in couplets!!

I feel like I can’t adequately express how much I love the things this book does. It experiments with form and language, which would be cool enough, except it goes on to explore complex themes in a thought-provoking way while throwing in a bizarre and delightful clusterfuck of elements like robot werewolves and tree furries. Most importantly, it was just so much fun to read. I want a sequel with these characters. I want to go to a con dressed as one of the garden wolves. I want to study this book for English class and write an essay on it in rhyming couplets. I did not at all expect this to be my favorite book of the year, but it absolutely is. (It also only has 19 ratings and 4 reviews on Goodreads, so if it sounds at all up your alley, please read it!!)

2. The Mask of Mirrors by M. A. Carrick– What many of my favorite books have in common this year is that they were incredibly fun to read. Mask of Mirrors is entertaining from start to finish, as schemes that would fill a lesser book are introduced and then resolved in mere chapters, and the climax is nothing but action-packed chaos. The world-building is dense and rewarding, the plot is twisty, and Ren is conning everyone, all the time, in at least 6 different ways, which of course makes it more satisfying when she ends up conning herself into actually caring about her marks. You'll like this if you enjoy a TTRPG flavor of storytelling (it started as an RPG, which makes sense once you know it), or if you enjoyed the basics of Ellen Kushner’s Swordspoint but wished it had more action and large-scale worldbuilding. There is a lot going on in these books, in the best possible way.

3. Starling House by Alix E. Harrow – There’s so much I loved about this book: the slow Gothic creep, the stories within a story, the eerie illustrations, the immersive sense of place. Surprisingly, it was the grounded, realistic parts of the book that were the most compelling to me. This is a fantasy, but it’s also a small-town family drama and coming of age story that could have been literary fiction with a few changes. The prose is just gorgeous, beautiful without ever getting purple. This is ultimately the story of the most bloody-minded woman in Kentucky slowly finding a home in the place she’s lived her whole life, while she falls in love with an equally bloody-minded man. Like The Raven Cycle as haunted house story, with overtones of Hades and Persephone and Beauty and the Beast.

4. The Necessity of Stars by E. Catherine Tobler – This is an 80 page novella that I usually wouldn’t count as a book, but it’s simply too good to leave off this list. It’s a strange and beautiful story about aging, climate change, sexism and exploitation, memory and language and how they shape our identities, and how we move through time. In such a short page count, there are so many powerful images that have stuck with me over six months later, including a sea of deep purple irises and a woman and an alien making love under…amidst…as? the stars. There’s something very Le Guin-like about this story with its setting of stars, shadows, and trees, and its sense of humanity. Mind-blowingly good; I highly recommend anything from Neon Hemlock Press.

5. Heir’s Game by suspu– This is a webtoon and not a novel, but I included a 100k Sherlock fanfic in my best books of 2017, so I’m also counting this. It’s a fluffy, bloodthirsty, melodramatic, swashbuckling high adventure found family story with an entertainment value off the charts. It balances a lot of different story elements and tones, each character and arc is developed so well, and there’s a truly satisfying number of pretty men covered in blood. If you’re devouring it over the course of a few days like I did, you also get to watch the author’s art style improve over the course of the four years it took them to write this. I’m morbidly impressed by the amount of effort that goes into panels I read in 2 seconds. Disclaimer that I read this alongside EBF, which may have biased my feelings towards it.

6. Bloom by Delilah S. Dawson – A lovely blend of sweet(?), sexy romance and lush description with visceral horror, creeping menace, and strong dramatic irony.* The last chapter I found a little dumb and overly conclusive, but I’m willing to forgive that due to the immersive atmosphere and tension for most of the book. Ro, the protagonist, is heartbreakingly vulnerable in her twisted justifications for why her first sapphic relationship is actually so Beautiful and Good, and Ash feels like a good depiction of a non-traditional abuser. It’s indulgent and suspenseful, and it’s also got Things to Say.

*(In response to people complaining on Goodreads that the “twist” is obvious, I would like to say: Ash is a baker/cook, the jacket contains the word “consumes” and “devouring,” and there’s a flayed body on the cover. I think a blurb may have comped it to Hannibal. If you read all that and think the publishers are spoiling the “twist” of the book instead of just advertising what the book is about, that’s a you problem. This is not a thriller trying to set up a shocking twist and leave you guessing; it’s horror, and the horror comes from knowing what’s coming and watching Ro stumble right into it with nothing we can do to stop it. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.)

7. The Dawnhounds by Sascha Stronach– The thing I loved most about this book is that it’s truly, delightfully original. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything remotely like it. There’s living technology that’s based on plants and syncs with human biology, a fresh system of gods and resurrection, a found family pirate ship, and some viscerally disturbing body horror. I often found myself sitting still for a minute with my mouth open, head tilted slightly to the side, thinking “…how the fuck did she come up with that.” This is also such a satisfyingly queer book. It very much centers found family, and unapologetic abundance saves the day. I wish I could remember more specifics of this book, but mostly what stuck with me is that it’s weird as shit and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

8. This is Ear Hustle by Nigel Poor and Earlonne Woods –This is the book form of an award-winning podcast discussing the realities of life in the American prison system, from those on both the inside and outside. It’s an often intense read, which I took in pieces over two months, but the storytelling is so engrossing, and introduces its audience to people and circumstances they most likely wouldn’t have encountered otherwise. I would never have guessed that San Quentin has skill-building and education programs, including the media lab where the Ear Hustle podcast is produced, or that at least one woman began a relationship with someone already in prison, moved her entire life to a desert prison town, and raised a family there. Each story in this book humanizes people who are often given little sympathy or understanding by society (even if they have been or are cruel and violent; redemption is not the point). The system they live in is definitely cruel and violent, but they are, like everyone, multifaceted people with loved ones and hobbies. Everyone has a story. This is the best kind of nonfiction to me, the kind that alters your view of the world and is still cropping up in your thoughts over six months later.

9. They Were Here Before Us by Eric LaRocca – I went through a big Eric LaRocca phase last fall, and I think this is overall the strongest of his works. The stories range from existentially shocking tales of nature at its darkest and most unnatural(?), to grotesque body horror, to unsettling tension that creeps across the pages like a serial killer stalking outside your window. A lot of the stories deal with the desperation, grotesqueness, and violation that comes with loving another person, and there’s a recurring contrast between bodies as vessels for love and as simply meat. Bearing in mind that I once said, in bemused shock, “Is Gideon the Ninth horror??”: it pushed against the boundaries of what I was comfortable reading and thinking about, without being shock for shock value. His writing is just viscerally fucked up.

10. The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer – This is a fucking dark and bleak book that officially hooked me at the end of Part One, when what I thought would be the reveal of the entire book…happened. And so I said “well, now what??” And plunged into a brutally depressing, borderline nihilistic, violently hopeful story about the nature of humanity and finding purpose in life. There are heartwarming moments in this book too, and also some funny or trivial moments that remind you this book is, for some random reason, YA.* If you enjoy sci-fi that grapples with the dizzying feeling of our microscopic place in the unending void of the cosmos, I highly recommend this one. And if you read Emma Newman’s Before Mars and want more in that vein, you’ll find a lot to love here.

*Unlike some people on Goodreads, I do see a reason for the protagonists to be teenagers, but you can very much write an adult book about teenagers

11. So You Want to be a Wizard by Diane Duane – I regret not discovering this book as a child, because I would have loved it. It’s the story of two children who teach themselves wizardry and become embroiled in an ongoing struggle for the fate of the world. The poetic writing, the way trees are held in reverence, and the way language is magic in and of itself are all things that appeal to me as an adult, but would have been even more meaningful when I was younger. I especially loved how matter of fact the children are about discovering magic: of course there’s magic in the world. They’re children, and they can believe in anything.

Honorable Mentions:

The Thousand Crimes of Ming Tsu by Tom Lin

How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix

Smiler’s Fair by Rebecca Levene

[espighty]

I think being a god for so long would make them appreciate being the subject of a joke for once. People were too afraid to joke about them before.

My lining pen keeps smearing every time I erase and if it happens one more time I am becoming the next lobotomite. mark my words

[alcoveofconcealment]

My favorite polycule: Repressed War Trauma, Toxic Familial Issues, and Childhood Cultist Survivor. Surely they won't throw their entire being into any given interest and instead take breaks like a reasonable person. They are so normal

[turrondeluxe]

I love how you draw April, she still looks like an older woman, but she seems more… refreshed. (is she like in her late 50 in the last ronin? I suppose this makes her in her early 60 in your au?) Guess the stress of Hiroto's existence is slowly withdrawing from her not-so-old bones :)

thank you!!! she is indeed called grammy april after all!

[avornalino]

two coworkers for @kashisun's office!! they are besties who only hate each other sometimes...

[info dump under the cut im actually so in love with them]

nyara moulton: social media manager

27 / aries / born and raised in san my

rbf but is actually so sweet she would drop whatever she's doing to gossip or listen to you vent

makes her older coworkers learn and do tiktok dances (everyone only pretends to hate it)

brings her cat to work sometimes (she's a very polite cross-eyed siamese)

lucille 'lucy' neumann: accounting (finance gal)

38 / capricorn / born in brindleton bay, moved to san my at 18

pretends to hate everyone but knows every single person's coffee order in the office

broke up with her bf of 4 years bc of the barbie movie

obsessed with yoga and fitness. currently trying to convince her boss to get standing desks so she can walk on a treadmill

has her plastic surgeon on speed dial in case she spots a wrinkle

if you walk past the two of them and they're silent... they were talking shit about you hate to break it to you...........

[political-sideblog-dont-at-me]

I had a big long post about the trending situation but when I tried to save the draft to go check on something else Tumblr ate it. Anyway here's trending:

Here's the daily post information for the top two tags:

Here's the daily post information for the bottom two tags:

And here's the daily post information for #Free Palestine:

I know people are upset that anyone is posting any fandom related stuff at all, but Tumblr absolutely has some explaining to do when the only tag on trending that has more posts than #Free Palestine is #WWE and two of the tags on trending are basically the same tag and should've been shown as trending together instead of taking up two spots.

Being this blatant with suppressing tags during a genocide is appalling, and doing it during a massive strike (One that places an emphasis on posting Palestine related content) is rubbing salt in the wound.

[so-long-soldier28]

i need to be writing but i have the ✨ depresso ✨

[mikodrawnnarratives]

I heard this audio and. And I needed to. I needed to draw the sisters cause kdskjfs

Cause like, dang when they reunite Maggie is gonna have a completely different experience than Nova. For Nova, it's seeing her sister who she thought was dead, is now alive. Grown up. She knew her at one point.

Maggie never really knew Nova before the events of the first book. She's only ever held ideas of who her sister could have been. Even after meeting Nova, it was never in a positive light which contrasts how Nova acts around kids (Max.) her age. Yes, it was maggie's fault for her sticky fingers though she still never got to truely know Nova

Just. Things I think abt

The audio is from Laurie Anderson's "O Superman"