#this is a Rated E program

[eupheme]

— into the fire

[series masterlist]

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 1.6k

Tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, restraints, sex for favors, rough oral (m rec.), 2 seconds of boot riding, flashbacks, sorta implied mutual pining, threatening with a gun, light degredation, spitting

a/n: please mind the tags! 💕 I heard him say ‘sweetheart’ (derogatory) and I was a goner. (Cooper is referred to as The Ghoul because I felt like he sure as hell wouldn’t have given Reader his name yet.)

“Been a long time since I’ve had mouth as sweet as yours.”

His tone then grows sharp, as the metal digs into your skin, “Don’t make me regret it.”

(Or - when you’re captured for a bounty, you make a deal.)

Your knees sink dig into the ground, with the downward gesture of his finger.

Eyes tracking the hand that now wraps around his belt buckle, then up to the tongue that traps between parted teeth.

No more than a week ago, he had lasso’d a rope around your throat. Bringing you to the ground - his weight of his hips pinning you solidly against the earth.

“There’s a bounty out for a Vaultie like you.,” The Ghoul had growled, as you bucked uselessly against him. “You know that?”

The days since were spent leashed by his side - almost like a pet, with the way he kept a handle on the rope twined tightly around your wrists.

Making you walk ahead, a sharp tug that sent you stumbling if you wandered too far.

All the while, you still felt that gaze that slipped over you.

Dipping with the zipper that had dragged down, pinched between fumbling fingers. Just wanting to feel the breeze against your skin - luxury you never had in the Vault. It lingered where the sweat beaded, nestled down in the shadow between your breasts.

If he needed permission to want you, you’d give it to him.

“You can use me,” You had told him - desperate, one night. “Whatever you want. Please, I can’t go back.”

“You best think twice about what you’re offerin’, sweetheart.” The Ghoul has rasped. A tilt of his head, as his eyes dragged over you.

You let them, your own eyes wandering as well. Across gaunt eyes and roughened skin, trying to piece together the man beneath.

Picking up on tiny things in the days that followed. Clinking spurs, his accent - akin to old programs they used to show back at your Vault. Hints that he’s been around a long, long time.

The Ghoul was terrifying in a way that thrilled you. You’d never seen someone move like he did, drawing faster than you could blink. A nightmare shrouded in a tattered leather coat, moving like a ghost.

He could rip your throat out with his bare teeth.

But he hadn’t.

You hadn’t had much to bargain with but you begin think even if you had caps - you might have ended up right here anyways.

But he hadn’t made a move to touch you.

Not until today, when your packaged water had run dry.

Until he saw the way you eyed him, envious. Another ten miles of desert road ahead, the sun following you from above and your throat growing drier with each one.

“You want some?” He asked, letting you watch the bead of water that rolled down his chin. “Then I think you know what you need to do, sweetheart.”

He’s collecting on your offer, now.

Adjusting himself, under the shadow of a crumbling building. Your thighs parting as you find your balance, fists pressing into uneven ground. The rope tied around fixed firmly under the heel of his boot, leaving you unable to use them in a manner you’d like. 

The Ghoul’s hat shields his eyes, but he can’t hide the curve of his cock against his pants - the interested twitch, when he frees himself.

“Don’t get shy on me, now.” He clicks his tongue, fingers wrapped around the base, “This was your idea, after all.”

There’s a warmth pooling in your belly, as you shuffle closer. The part of your lips, the peek of your tongue against the tip.

It’s much like the rest of him. Pulled-tight pink skin, roughened and wrinkled divots. Velvety and warm, as you take him into your mouth and suck.

He swells, as your lips wrap around him. As he inches deeper, with the shallow bob of your head. Heavy against your tongue, it’s not long at all before he’s fully hard.

You try to take more, struggling with your limited balance, the full size of him. Teeth scraping against skin, when his hand twists in your hair.

There’s a ragged groan rattling in his throat - then there’s the cool press of a muzzle against your cheek, the low growling drawl of his voice.

“Been a long time since I’ve had mouth as sweet as yours.”

His tone then grows sharp, as the metal digs into your skin, “Don’t make me regret it.”

Your heartbeat thuds beneath your ribs. His message clear - fuck around, use your teeth on him, and you won’t live long enough to find out.

You don’t test him. His grip lingers, until you go loose. Eyes lifting to meet his, letting him guide you.

The tightness in him unknots as well, when you let him into your throat. A low grunt, risking a glance down to see how well you take him - an unconscious buck of his hips into your waiting mouth.

“Not even two weeks out and you’re already sucking cock,” He grits out, “So fucking eager to do it, too. You like ghouls sweetheart? Or just me?”

His voice rips into you, sending your nerves alight. He leaks against your tongue as you trace the rough skin, unable to help groaning.

“Fuck,” The Ghoul growls, “Just mine. Let me hear you say it.”

His grip loosens, pulling himself from you. Spit clinging from the head of his cock to your lips as you swallow. A hand pinching at your chin, forcing your face to stay tipped up to his as you answer.

“Just yours.”

“Good,” He thumbs at your chin until you open again, tongue waiting against your lip. Filling you slowly this time, until he’s nudging against the back of your throat. Tears prick at your eyes, as you try not to gag around him.

The slow saw of his hips picks up. It’s difficult without your hands - messy, with the way he uses you. Though there’s something about it that itches at you, deep inside.

Something that makes the tight Vault Suit feel even more constricting. More than aware of the dampness that pools between your thighs. How the sound of his groans, the tight tug of your hair in his fist makes you clench.

It’s has your thighs pressing together, as he fucks your mouth. A shift of your wrists so you can press the back of your hand against your center - easing some of the ache.

The pull of the rope beneath his boot has his eyes flicking further downwards. A cruel smile, when he sees.

“Getting off on this, sweetheart?”

You whine, and the smile widens.

“Filthy thing, aren’t you?” He drawls, with the shift of his thighs. The other boot knocks against your wrists to move them, before fitting it between your thighs. Nudging against your center, giving you something to grind against.

It’s not enough, but you both knew it wouldn’t be.

It would be too kind, otherwise. And he’s shown that he’s sure as hell not nice.

A tear tracks down your cheek with the steady roll of his hips, your nose brushing hot skin with each thrust.

Your eyes shut - mindless, a soft buzz in your throat as you moan around him. Focused on his breath, how it grows short and panting and ragged.

Until he’s pulling himself from you with a grunt, his fist wrapping around his length.

“Unzip, darlin’.” He growls, as he works himself, “As much as I’d love to fully use that pretty mouth of yours, I ain’t about to share my RadAway.”

It takes you a second to catch the zipper on your Vault Suit, dragging it down. From your sternum to your abdomen - revealing the worn, white cotton of your bra, the inches of smooth skin beneath.

A hand frees from his grip in your hair. Touching you again, yanking at your suit and bra until it bares the tight peaks of your nipples.

“Goddamn,” He growls, “Just look at you. Bet you’re nice and messy beneath that suit.”

Fingers cup the weight, before he’s pinching down. Eliciting a soft moan, as his eyes sweep across your face - soft and half-lidded as you watch him.

“Should’ve just fucked you. Would’ve taken me so well, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” You breathe - imagining it. Bent over one of the broken tables inside. His cock buried in your cunt instead of your mouth.

The moan he makes sounds feral - bitten back between clenched teeth. His other hand sliding to wrap around the back of your neck, holding you in place as his fist tightens.

“Look at me,” The Ghoul commands, and you do. Meeting his gaze with pupils that are blown wide, watching how pretty and ruined you look as he comes.

His groan is long and low as he spills across your cheek. The next against your lips, then chin. The jerk of his fist working himself empty across your breasts, until you’re marked thoroughly with him.

Smeared sticky against your skin, leaving you empty and aching as he admires his work. A whine when The Ghoul tucks himself away, his hat tipped down low again.

“Oh,” He mocks, “You think I forgot?”

For the briefest moment, you think he means to touch you. To ease your need - or offer something to clean yourself with - but instead he’s pulling the canteen from his bag.

“Open.” He commands, before he’s taking the last remaining pull.

The protest is caught, as his hand grips your cheeks. As your lips part, like he told you to.

His jaw rolls, pooling the water against his tongue. And with the dip of his head - he spits.

This time, you swallow.

Nothing more was said, after. A cut-up scrap of cloth from his pack, tossed at you. He still clings to your skin, beneath the suit.

But as you start traveling again - as a crop of building rise up along the horizon in the north, that you realize -

You’re pretty certain the path has changed.

ahh I just finished Fallout! What did you all think?? I loved it, and I can’t see what they do with Cooper’s arc in s2 (and of course everyone’s, I loved Lucy as well!) (And would love to know what you thought about this, as well! I have thoughts on a follow-up if there’s interest!) 💖

[the-boy-meets-evil]

maybe something sweet and fluffy with woozi. trying to stay late to surprise him with dinner or something but he finds you asleep on the couch. he's been stressed and working more than usual (insane behavior) and you just wanna help him relax and take the weight off his shoulders

pairing: jihoon x gn!reader genre: est. relationship | fluff, maybe the tiniest bit suggestive rating: e for everyone (but this blog is still 18+) word count: 1440 warnings: mentions of food but nothing else

author's note: thank you for sending this! i am painfully late with this (and wanted to wait to finish all the requests before posting). this is for my baby @effortandmore for her birthday drabbles. ily lauren 💕 divider by @cafekitsune

taglist: @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality (strikethrough means can’t tag, check your settings!), join my taglist here

You’ve loved Jihoon for a long time. As a friend first and then slowly as something much more. When you first met him, you thought he was hard to read. Difficult to ever really know. As you spent more time around him, that idea morphed into something else as well. He’s not the kind of person to be vocal about what he’s thinking or feeling. If you’re waiting for him to tell you how he feels, then you’re going to be waiting for a while. Unless you know where to look.

That’s probably why it took you time to realize all the ways he was telling you that you were more than a friend to him. Over time, he started inviting you just to be around him when he was working on projects at home. Or inviting you over to do your own work at his place while he did chores around the house. Slowly, you realized that he always had your favorite snacks in the cupboards and favorite drinks in the fridge. Occasionally you would even mention needing something in passing and it would show up delivered to your house a day or two later. Never with a note, but always with the understanding that it was Jihoon taking care of it. Taking care of you. You realized that your heart shifted to caring about him as more than a friend before your brain even caught up. It was like he had been showing you all along that you could depend on him. 

Jihoon isn’t always one to say what he’s feeling, but he likes to hear it from you. It’s cute to watch his face light up when you tell him how much he means to you or why you think about him throughout the day. He’s easy, though, because he’s just as happy to have you around. Sometimes you don’t say anything at all, just curl up on the couch to watch a favorite show. Those are some of your favorites because you know how much space he’s made for you in his home. You know how important that space is to him so that he can recharge. But, he accepts you like you always belonged there with him. 

Lately, work has been a little overwhelming for him. Maybe not overwhelming as much as busy. You know how much he likes to be busy and would prefer that to work being too slow. It’s also clear how much he likes to solve a problem and be the one to find that elusive solution. So, this project has been challenging, often resulting in him staying late, and you know he wouldn’t change it. Even on the nights where he doesn’t get home until it’s nearly time for bed. 

Tonight, you’re trying to do something a little bit nice for him. It’s been days on end, even some weekends, of him busting his ass on this project. And you don’t understand the words he’s using. Haven’t ever really been tech savvy enough to get programming. What you do know, though, is that he’s been surviving on too much caffeine and food delivery. Sometimes he does listen and order from healthier places. Sometimes it’s all he can do to remember to eat at all, so it’s whatever can get to him fastest. But, he seemed pretty confident that he would be out of work at a decent time tonight. You decide to use your key to his place and let yourself in to surprise him with a great home-cooked meal.

For someone that doesn’t really like cooking that much, Jihoon has a pretty well-stocked kitchen. Although, knowing how considerate he is, that’s probably mostly because you liked to cook at his place and complained about all the things he didn’t have. All you need to do is show up with your ingredients. You decide on a menu of comforting foods that also can either keep warm on the stove or be easily warmed up without losing flavor. 

You figure that you should let him know that you’re going to be there when he gets home so it doesn’t surprise him. The food can be the surprise even if he knows you’re there waiting for him. He seems excited to see you when you text him. When the food is all ready, you figure that you can have a glass of wine while you wait. 

Jihoon: i’m so sorry, this is taking longer than i thought to wrap up

You: that’s fine, take your time

It’s not uncommon for Jihoon to send a text like that when he’s in the middle of a project. He hates it and you know he does. But, you also assure him that it’s fine. You didn’t have any actual plans and he doesn’t need to rush through work on your account. 

While you’re waiting, you decide on a little taste test of the food you made, careful not to make it too obvious that you’ve had some. Not that he would care, you just want the presentation to be nice for Jihoon. With some good food and a glass of wine down, you’re a little sleepy. Cooking can do that to you. There’s no harm, you figure, in getting comfortable on the couch while you wait and putting on some background noise. 

You don’t even realize that you drift off until you feel someone’s arms sliding underneath you. Your eyes flitter open and land on Jihoon. He’s got his shaggy hair pulled back into an elastic with strands falling out from the length of the day. His face is soft with nothing more than complete love and adoration. It’s so clear that he doesn’t want to disturb you and that makes your heart constrict further. This man has been working for who knows how many hours and he’s still taking care of you.

“I’m awake, babe,” you say through a slightly groggy voice.

“Sorry, was trying not to wake you up,” he says and pulls his arms back.

You catch one of his hands to pull him back in for a quick kiss. “I’m glad I woke up.”

“The place smells really good,” he comments.

“Yeah, I made dinner,” you say.

His face brightens for a moment and it makes you nearly melt. “I would’ve left sooner if I’d known.” 

“It’s a surprise, you goober,” you say with a smile. You pull yourself into a sitting position.

“Hey, it’s fine, I can get a plate,” he says.

“No, no. You go have a nice shower and by the time you’re out, I’ll have it all ready,” you say and get to your feet.

“You don’t have to…” he starts and you press another kiss to his lips before turning him in the direction of the bathroom.

“Go,” you say.

It takes a minute to shake off the cobwebs from your unexpected nap. By the time you’re in the kitchen and warming everything back up, you can hear the water running in the bathroom and the music audible even over the sound of the shower. It sounds like one of his more upbeat playlists, which is a good thing. Even if he doesn’t say much, you can always tell his mood by what playlist he puts on. Tonight, it seems like he’s in a good mood despite the long day at work. Part of you hopes that you surprising him adds to the good mood. 

The water shuts off, leaving only the playlist as your background and you know you still have a little bit of time before he emerges. So, it’ll be perfect timing as nearly everything is ready again. You’re putting a plate together when he emerges from his bedroom in gym shorts and a t-shirt, wet hair still falling around his face. The smile on your face is instant.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re just beautiful,” you say, smile still bright.

“I must look exhausted,” he brushes off.

“Still beautiful,” you insist and delight in the way blush creeps up his neck. To save him from saying anything, you hand over a plate.

“Can’t believe you did this,” he mumbles softly.

“I thought you deserved a treat,” you say as you grab your own plate. 

“Just having you here is a treat,” he says, unusually sappy with you.

“So you don’t want the rest of the post-dinner treats I planned?” you ask innocently. 

“Didn’t say that,” he says, locking eyes with you.

“How early do you have to be in tomorrow?” you ask. 

“I have the day off,” he says.

“Don’t get too full, then. I’ve got plenty of surprises for you,” you say. 

hope you enjoyed it! let me know 💕

[additiva]

Frechheit

By additiv (me) on AO3 | Lestappen | Rated E | 208k words | COMPLETE |

Summary

The first time that Max heard the name Charles Leclerc was in 2022, just after winning his first WDC. Maybe it only stuck because he heard it twice in one night; first as Leclerc was announced as the 2022 F3 champion. Second, as Helmut lamented not signing him to the Red Bull driver development program.

Now, Max is ready to put the newly-promoted Ferrari driver in his place. The problem is, Leclerc seems to think his place is on the top step of the podium. And he is not playing by the rules.

Basically, an age-difference fic, where they never got to work out their differences as kids. 3-time WDC Max's experience of being personally victimised by baby-Charles.

Genuine Enemies to Lovers, and the Most Unreliable of Narrators.

[djuvlipen]

Every hour, a woman in Afghanistan loses her life during childbirth

It was midnight when another wave of pain struck. Begum, 35, thought it was finally time for her child to be born, but there were no signs of the baby coming.

“I woke my husband and told him to get a car to go to a hospital. He rented one from our neighbours,” Begum said.

The mother of four travelled while in labour from Ridkhord area in Badakhshan’s Zibak district to the Shahid Ustad Burhanuddin Rabbani Hospital in the provincial capital Faizabad.

Her fifth child, struggling to be born, did not survive the journey.

Begum lived, but many mothers in similar circumstances do not.

Abdullah is currently waiting to hear if his wife will survive their child’s birth.

He and his wife, residents of the province’s Yafta-e-Bala area, came on foot to the central hospital in Faizabad when their baby was due to be born.

“In Yaftal-e-Bala, there are four health centres. However, because of inadequate medical facilities and no doctor available, we had to walk for four or five hours to Faizabad for delivery,” Abdullah said.

“We encountered many challenges along the way, but I couldn’t do much until we reached the hospital.”

Doctors said that because his wife had walked a long distance, it led to severe bleeding and possibly harmed the baby in the womb.

“The mother’s condition is not good and there is little hope for the baby to survive,” Abdullah said doctors told him.

Afghanistan’s deadly statistics for mothers

According to the latest World Health Organization (WHO) report, each day 24 mothers and 167 newborns in Afghanistan lose their lives due to complications in pregnancy and childbirth.

It’s the highest rate in the world.

“The condition of mothers is highly alarming, particularly for those who travel from remote areas and cover long distances,” a specialist at the Shahid Ustad Burhanuddin Rabbani Hospital, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said.

Having worked in Badakhshan for 22 years, the doctor said that the shortage of healthcare services, especially in remote areas, leads to significant health risks for women.

He recalled a patient who arrived at the hospital from Darwaz district about a month ago after travelling for three days.

“Due to the long journey, the patient’s womb had ruptured along the way, leading to the loss of the baby. The doctors only managed to save the mother’s life with great difficulty,” he said.

Discrimination leading to more deaths

There are concerns the situation is only getting worse as the Taliban place more restrictions on women’s mobility and access to support, and the weakened economy sees healthcare facilities struggle to deliver services.

The WHO reported that in 2023, about 428 health centres were closed because of budget constraints.

Dr Suraya Dalil, WHO’s Director of the Special Programe for Primary Health Care and former Minister of Health in Afghanistan from 2010 to 2014, said that Afghanistan has become one of the most perilous countries for mothers due to insufficient healthcare resources.

Dr Dalil told Rukhshana Media that the Taliban’s discriminatory policies make women more vulnerable in accessing healthcare.

“There is a regime in Afghanistan that systematically discriminates against women. For instance, a few months ago, a directive was sent to the central hospital in Ghazni province stating that women without a male companion would not receive treatment,” she said.

“Similarly, in Herat, a directive was issued prohibiting ultrasound services for women at the central hospital.”

She said that ultrasound examinations are crucial for diagnosis and timely treatment decisions, services that have unfortunately been restricted for women.

Recently, the Taliban supreme leader issued an order for all female employees to receive a reduced monthly salary.

“Recently, we’ve witnessed female employees being allocated a monthly salary of only 5,000 afghanis (US$70), disregarding their rank, experience, and job responsibilities solely because they are women. This is systemic discrimination,” she said.

“The impact of the Taliban’s actions on women extends beyond just health issues. It has multidimensional implications.”

Health professionals strike over reduced salaries

This month several doctors, nurses, and midwives in Kabul hospitals staged a strike in protest of this decision by the Taliban leadership.

At least four female doctors and staff from hospitals such as Wazir Mohammad Akbar Khan, Shaikh Zahid, and Sehat-e-Tefl, speaking to Rukhshana Media,  said they cannot meet their basic living needs with the salary recently set by the Taliban for all female employees.

Homa*, a physician at Wazir Mohammad Akbar Khan hospital, said their protest lasted only three hours after the hospital’s Taliban-appointed director dispersed them with threats.

Orphaned children left to raise each other

Hanifa, 21, a resident of Sarjai area of Panjab district of Bamyan province now takes care of her two younger sisters and two younger brothers after the death of their mother.

She said that there are no clinics in their village or nearby areas, which is why her mother had to give birth at home.

“My poor mother cried in pain, clutching her back, yet she continued to bake bread. With my father and two brothers away working on farmlands, there was no man at home. My mother, assisted by our neighbor, who was a local woman, gave birth at home,” she said.

“She always delivered her children at home and was used to it, but this time, one of the twins didn’t come out, and her bleeding was so severe that the entire house was stained with blood.

“After giving birth, my mother survived only two hours. Despite our efforts, we couldn’t deliver the second twin because there was no accessible vehicle, and my father wasn’t home to help us.

“When my mother realized her bleeding wouldn’t stop, she urged us to take good care of her daughter, who was a baby girl. She remained conscious for two hours, growing weaker with each passing moment until she eventually lost consciousness.”

Karima Sadiq* a gynecologist specializing in obstetrics in remote areas, said stories like these are increasingly common.

“Sadly, since the Taliban seized power in Afghanistan, I have witnessed a rise in maternal deaths during childbirth, particularly in villages and districts. Every 24 hours, 24 to 26 mothers are losing their lives during childbirth, highlighting a disturbingly high maternal mortality rate.”

The United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) recently reported that one-third of women in Afghanistan give birth without access to essential healthcare facilities, and only around 67 percent of deliveries in Afghanistan are supervised by healthcare professionals.

According to UNICEF’s report, it is recommended that pregnant women visit a doctor at least four times before delivery, but only a third of women in Afghanistan adhere to this recommendation.

UNICEF stated that that if a mother gives birth outside of a healthcare facility and without access to a skilled health professional, her life is significantly endangered.

Note*: Names are changed due to security reasons.

[di-42]

Well, what a good month for reading August has been! A few days off can make such a difference!

As always I'll try and tag the writers whose Tumblr username I know, so they know they are loved!

If your fiction is on this recommendation list and you'd rather I take it off the list, or if you know a writer who's on this list would rather not be, please let me know and I'll remove their fiction immediately.

I have really enjoyed these fictions, including not one but two Christmas stories. In August. Because, why not? i hope you'll love them too!

August's Awesome Fictions

WIPs:

Wavelengths & Frequencies by imposterssyndrome @maaikeatthefullmoon and shades_of_eccles_cakes @shadesofecclescakes (rated E, chapters 5/?)

I'm absolutely loving this enemies-to-lovers human AU where Crowley and Aziraphale are radio DJs. They loathe each other. They also can't stop thinking about each other! Of course they end up working for the same media corporation. The humour in this story is sharp and clever, and the characterisation is excellent! It's updated every Monday and honestly the only problem I have with this story is that I receive the notification email on a Monday morning and need to wait until at least the end of the working day to dive in!

You're The Bad Guys by Nebz_AlphaCentauri @alphacentaurinebula(rated E, chapters 8/?)

Human AU set in the Cold War. Aziraphale is an MI6 agent, Crowley is a KGB agent. They're assigned to the same mission in Berlin by their respective head offices. This story is full of suspense! I love the characterisation of our heroes and each chapter leaves me wanting for more! Updated every Friday.

My own WIP And I Did (rated E, chapters 6/13)

A post season 2 fiction where Aziraphale is Supreme Archangel and Crowley is Grand Duke Of Hell.

In my not-a-summary I say that this is a story about faith, about love, and about choices. Which is true. But I have come to think of it also as my apology dance to Crowley. My headcanon about Aziraphale has always been clear and my first fiction was me sharing that headcanon basically. I wasn't as sure about what Crowley would do after the final 15 as I was about what Aziraphale’s motives were. I didn't see Crowley drinking himself oblivious or taking a road of self destruction. But I didn't know what he would do. So I skipped that part and started that fiction from after the failed second coming, but still I didn't think I did Crowley justice. Then it hit me, and that was when I started writing And I Did. I knew what Crowley would do. Crowley would do what Crowley does. And what does Crowley do best? This is a story about faith, about love, and about choices. I try to update every weekend, but I might not be as reliable as I’d like!

Complete stories:

The Truth About Plants & Queen by ShortInsomniac98 (rated E, 11353 words)

Human AU where Crowley hosts a night radio program and Aziraphale calls in. I love how their relationship develops in this story and I loved to see a friendly side of Gabriel! (And I mean Gabriel!)

The Anon Before Christmas by @foolishlovers (rated E, 66732 words)

Ah. Where to begin. Every now and then, you read a fiction that just makes you feel at home. Makes you feel like you’re in safe hands. Like you’re in for a real treat. This absolute gem has very quickly become my favourite human AU. For several reasons.  The characterisation of the two main characters is absolutely spot on. I could hear Crowley talking in DT’s Crowley voice and see him moving in DT’s Crowley way, and I could hear Aziraphale talking in MS’s Aziraphale voice and see him moving in MS’s Aziraphale way. The pace of the development of their relationship from enemies to lovers is just perfect. It’s told from Crowley’s POV and you can see how his perspective changes as the story progresses, but the writer is so good that Aziraphale’s change of perspective shows perfectly through Crowley’s POV too. The array of side characters is so good that it actually pains me to call them side characters. I wrote in one of my comments to the fiction that I will forever adore this story’s Bee, and I meant it, but Newt and Ana are equally fantastic (and I loved the other cameos too!). Also, and this is especially important to me, this story is as much a love story between Crowley and Aziraphale as it is a story of true friendship among all the characters. They look after each other, they have each other’s back, they support each other. I am so lucky and privileged to be able to see myself represented in that aspect of the story. Last but not least, this fiction doesn't overstay its welcome one bit. You are happy about how everyone ended up, but still could read more. It’s like you are part of the gang and want to know what your friends are up to. Everything in this story was perfect. I realise I haven’t mentioned what the plot is about, but hopefully by now you might want to find out for yourself!

Planes, Trains & The Apocalypse by walking_contradiction42 (rated teen, 32382 words)

Human AU where Crowley and Aziraphale meet on a plane on their way to Tadfield (via London) for Christmas. Crowley can't stand Aziraphale and only wants as uneventful a journey home as possible. Ha! 

I understand there’s a film with a similar title, you definitely don't need to have watched the film in order to enjoy this lovely fiction. 

The Bookseller And The Garden by oceantears (rated teen, 13668 words)

Fluff, fluff, fluff! Canon divergent fiction where Crowley is a demon stationed on earth, Aziraphale is an angel stationed on earth, but they have never met until present day. There's no end of the world in sight, only an angel and a demon falling in love and not knowing how to break it to the other that they're not human. I laughed all the way through.

After The End (part one of Nice And Ominous: A Reluctant Eschatology Of The Second Attempt) by beardo @e-rated-beardo (rated teen, 26086 words)

Crowley learns to cope after Aziraphale goes to heaven, with a little help.from his friends. And from the Bentley. I love the writer’s humour and the conversations between Crowley and the Bentley are hilarious.

Series:

Aziraphale’s Diaries by azzfell, @fellshish

This series is hilarious, warm and fluffy. So far there are four stories, all consisting in, yes you guessed it, Aziraphale’s diary entries. In the first story, Empirical study on the principles of snake care (rated teen, 2048 words), Aziraphale suddenly realises he hasn’t paid enough attention to Crowley snake-y needs. He decides he wants to make up for it. Hilarity ensues. Put your cup of tea down before day 6, trust me. In Experiments of an angel who has read entirely too much fanfic (rated teen, 3064 words), Aziraphale discovers fanfiction shipping him and Crowley and decides he wants to test some of the tropes on the demon. Reading Crowley’s reactions through Aziraphale’s POV lens will make you feel warm inside. Drink down at day 10. In How to be a demon: a brief history of the Arrangement (rated teen, 2663 words), Aziraphale recounts some of the temptations he’d had to do during the years, to honour the arrangement with Crowley. The last entry will make you melt. In Adventures of a mystery shopper in the bookshop (rated teen, 3090 words), Aziraphale is worried that Crowley is getting bored, so he wants to help by giving him something to do. Peeps, for this one don’t even pick your drink up. You’ll end up spitting it all over your laptop/phone/tablet.

One shots:

Keep Digging by Appleseeds (rated teen7068 words)

Human AU. Crowley and Aziraphale work in the same office and Crowley is trying to gather the courage to ask Aziraphale out, only to get cold feet at the last moment. In order to try and save his face, he needs to do what the title says. I howled with laughter. Just put down whatever you’re doing and go read this right now. It’s unbelievably hilarious.

But It’s Pretty by Supergeek21 (rated E, 2544 words)

Aziraphale and Crowley have a conversation on why the Bentley is yellow and why the walls are yellow. Things get deliciously spicy.

You've Got Kudos by curtaincall (rated M, 4128 words)

Aziraphale and Crowley both write Good Omens fanfiction on Ao3. Crowley’s stories are sweet and romantic. Aziraphale’s stories are smutty and spicy. They love each other's stories without knowing who the writer is. This fiction was a treat!

The Corset by smitten_obviously @sabine-smitten-obviously (rated G, 1248 words)

A funny and sweet account of that time in the 17th century when Aziraphale decided to wear a corset. I really loved how sweet Crowley is here, without overdoing it a bit! A little gem.

My own little one shot, Angel! Angel! They're At It Again! (rated M, 5566 words)

It's the year 2030. The world never ended. Aziraphale and Crowley are living happily and safely together as a married couple. Everything would be well, if it wasn't that lately Aziraphale has been a bit busy. A bit distracted. Now, Crowley can't have that, can he? He seeks the advice of his girlfriends, who unwittingly give him an idea on how to liven up his marriage. A fluffy and hopefully funny way to the South Downs cottage.

Poems:

To Wish To Fall by ArchangelRemiel @sassysnakedemon

A lovely and sweet poem that explores different ways of falling.

The Devil's Red Hair by lickthecowhappy

I really loved this very emotional poem! Aziraphale has a little souvenir helping him cope in heaven.

[spirit-lanterns]

Android Natasha taking care of Engineer Reader honestly gives me the vibe of her being Baymax from Big Hero Six so I'll imagine her like a big fluffy and soft robot for Reader to hug

🐾

Hehehe Baymax Natasha 🤭

Imagine how big and puffy she is as she lifts you up and envelops you in her warmth when she detects your body temperature is too low. Honestly, she probably is the equivalent of Baymax like how Stelle is Wall-E, so she can do all the things that Baymax does (and maybe more)

Imagine her acting as huge heating bed for the Engineer to snuggle up to when she’s tired and cold from working in her lab all day. Or the Engineer accidentally injuring herself in an experiment and Natasha going “on a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your pain?” With the most blank expression ever while the Engineer tries her best not to scream.

Ahhhh Android! Natasha would be so cute as Baymax! But maybe not as clueless as him as she is more aware of certain situations and is able to handle them accordingly. Also I imagine that the Engineer programs Natasha to not only be a healthcare robot, but to also be a battle robot because she can wield a bazooka.

[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

[the-little-ewok]

Clandestine

Poe Dameron X Fem!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 2400 (ish)

Warnings : Smut. PIV, fingering, semi-public sex, tiny bit of needy!Poe, reader wears a dress, illusions to lack of self confidence, praise kink, cock warming

Summary: Poe can't keep his eyes, or his hands off you during a party....

(Alternatively a discussion was had about staining Poes trousers when he decides he can't wait to have you in private...)

A/N : Yea I'm still mostly on hiatus, but after a bit of lovely feedback from my Discord loves, I am sharing this with you all.

No longer using a taglist because it's out of date.

Forgive any mistakes. It's not beta'd and I'm bad at finding my own mistakes.

It was no secret that Poe hated these type of events with a passion, and so it should be no surprise that he had situated himself in the corner furthest from the dance floor, mostly hidden in darkness, sipping his drink as he watched the party begin to reach its peak.

He'd agreed to go only because you asked him, and for the most part, he had been the perfect partner throughout the dinner, apart from the fact he had politely refused to leave the table to dance. Instead he seemed content to sit quietly eyeing you in the dim lighting.

"Stop that," you scold, for what feels like the hundredth time since the pilot had seen you this evening.

"Stop what?" He grins, raising an eyebrow, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he eyes you with blatant, feral desire.

"Looking at me." You fidget under his gaze, adjusting your dress and trying not to let him fluster you, although the heat prickling at your skin lets you know you are failing on that front.

"I'm admiring," he clarifies, sipping his drink without ever taking his eyes off you.

The moment you had walked out of the fresher in this dress, he'd all but drooled over you. You still vividly remembered the way his mouth had fallen open, his eyes taking in every inch of your body — more than once — before he regained the ability to speak. You had fidgeted under his gaze, feeling suddenly self conscious in your choice of outfit, which was a little more daring than your usual attire.

"Jess helped me pick it," you had mumbled, as though it explained everything.

"Well we arn't going to the party." He had stated after a drawn out silence, swallowing hard.

You had frowned, confused, but before you had a chance to ask, he had pulled you into his arms, his mouth on yours, his hands cupping your ass as he held you against him, begging you to let him view your dress on the bedroom floor, while he buried himself inside you.

Much to his disappointment, and if you were honest, your own too, you had managed to wriggle out of his grip, and firmly told him that he could do whatever he wanted with you, and your dress, after the party. The look he had given you would make anyone think you had told him BB-8's programming had failed.

So to the party you had come, and enjoyed it, with one glaring problem — he had barely taken his eyes off you, all night. Everytime you glanced over at him during conversation he was, for all intense purposes, absolutely eye fucking you.

You had no idea, until you met Poe, what being so openly desired could do to you. He riled you up with just a look and Maker, he was so damn hard to say no to. More than once you had to curl your fingers against your thighs under the table, willing yourself to have some control and stop your thoughts wandering to the way he was dragging his tongue along the Meiloorun fruit served for dessert. You were thankful when they finally cleared away the plates.

"Well, admire something else," you answer, keeping your eyes trained on the dance floor lights, trying not to give in to your desires.

"I can't," he practically hisses, leaning close to you. "You have no idea how much I can't."

"Poe." It's half a warning for him to stop, but the flicker in his eyes lets you know he knows he's starting to get to you. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't regretted turning him down earlier this evening. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't considered faking some illness to leave the party early. But you had promised to come, and now you were here you had to stick it out, at least until a decent time.

He holds your gaze as his hand slips into yours, firm and comforting, even as he eyes you hungrily.

"Come sit with me. At least let me hold you," he whispers softly, sweetly, dangerously. You know exactly where he's about to put you, and why. Yet you don't stop him when he pulls you out of your seat, and guides you to sit on his lap.

You let out a soft gasp at the feel of his hard cock pressed against your ass, realising exactly what he meant by "can't".

"I need you," he whispers, almost sinfully, in your ear. "I need you, now." His nose brushes against the column of your neck, from your collarbone to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. It's so much harder to ignore him now, to try and reason with him.

"Poe, we are in public!" It's barely a protest, your body already responding to his, your pussy clenching at the thought of his cock buried deep inside you, here, in a hall full of people. It shouldn't excite you as much as it does.

"I can't wait," he groans. "Please baby, it's been like this all night. Please. I need to be inside you." His tone is needy, begging, desperate.

It's thrilling, knowing you can pull that out of him.

"I'll be good to you," he promises, his hands already hitching up your dress under the table, splaying them warm against your thighs. "You know how good I can be to you."

The shiver of desire that runs through you at his words is completely involuntary. You can't stop it, no more than you can stop the way your heart gallops, and butterflies erupt in your stomach as his promise, and the memories of previous similar promises it revives.

"If anyone sees…" you trail off with a pleasured sigh as he kisses your neck, just below your ear.

"They won't," he states confidently, as though the table were a wall between you and the party.

You want to argue that he has no way of knowing, that this is a terrible idea, that you should wait, but you're too far gone, lost in the way his mouth feels against your pulse point, sucking a mark to claim you.

His hands, already pressed against the skin of your thighs, start a slow journey up, taking his time to squeeze your flesh lightly, enjoying the warmth of you against his palms, lightly pressing them open for him.

When he finally slips a hand between your legs, he lets out a sudden breath, as though the air has been punched from his lungs.

"Fuck," he hisses, his fingers skimming against your bare flesh, collecting the wetness already gathered there, and dragging up to brush against your clit.

You expect him to be smug about it, to tease you about how easily riled you are, how you want this as much as he does, but the pilot seems to have been struck dumb by your lack of underwear and only succeeds in a low whine against your neck, his hips rutting up into you, desperate for friction against his aching cock.

Your own gasp, as he slips a finger easily into you, curling against your walls, is thankfully covered by the music. He gives you a moment to school your expression, lest anyone notice, before he slowly, almost lazily withdraws it, moving up to circle your clit, before back down to sink two fingers into you.

"Shouldn't have let you leave the room," he grumbles against your neck as you squirm on his lap, his fingers stretching you open with practised ease. His hands know your body better than your own, and it takes him absolutely no time at all to have you struggling to contain your moans of pleasure.

Leaning into you he licks your neck, making you shudder with need.

"Can I fuck you now?"

You should say no, make your excuses and leave, pick this back up in your room. He's giving you an out, a way to stop this before it goes further than you're comfortable with. But you find you don't want to stop. In fact, you very much don't want to stop.

"Yes," you breathe out, rolling your hips against the straining bulge in his trousers. He curses, and within moments his fingers are removed and he's scrambling to unbutton his trousers, freeing his cock with some careful manuveting from you.

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you position yourself, your back to his chest, leaning your hands on the table, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Taking a breath you bite your lip hard as you sink down onto his waiting cock, taking things slow despite his desperation, and now yours. Both of you know drawing too much attention to yourselves would not be pleasant.

Poe's teeth sink into your shoulder, stifling his groan against your skin as you settle back on his lap. The bite of pain makes you clench around him and the pilot lets out a choked noise of surprise, his hips jolting against yours, pressing him deep inside you.

"Shit baby, don't do that," he warns, taking a trembling breath. "Not unless you want this over really qui-nghh!"

You can't help but do it again and the torturous sound he lets out is more than worth it.

"Stop," he gasps "I don't wanna rush this". But you aren't listening to him. He's pushed you this far and now you're on edge, your body crying out for a blissful release you know he can give you. It just feels too damn good to tease him.

You clench again, and this time earns you a low growl that sends electric through your nerves.

You're expecting him to thrust up into you, hard and deep, the way he usually would when you tease him this way, but instead his arms hold tight against your waist, pulling you down into his lap as he grinds up into you, slowly.

It's so much better….or worse. He adjusts his hips until his cock brushes up against that one blissful spot inside you, constantly. It's never ending. No amount of squirming or wriggling allows you a moment from the pressure. It's too much and not enough. It turns the tables in an instant, and you can't help the whimper that passes your lips.

"Good girl, taking me so well," he praises, clearly trying to keep his breathing steady as he rolls his hips into you again. "Letting me have you here, where anyone can see us."

You have to fight to stop your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he whispers in your ear, your hands dropping from the table to grip his arms so hard you're sure the nail marks will still be there tomorrow.

"Driving me crazy in this dress. Lookin' like the hottest fucking thing. Fuck baby, you're so good to me, letting me do this," he slurs, his voice progressively more wrecked and quiet as he rambles on. Or maybe it's your hearing that's the problem. Suddenly all you can concentrate on is the base of the music as it vibrates through your veins, the press of his cock inside you, the weight of his arms around your waist, the pleasure surging through you.

You completely lose all sense of what he's saying to you, desperatly trying not to cry out his name aloud, or throw yourself forwards onto the table so he can pound into you. Instead you try your best to stay as still as you can, as calm as you can, while Poe seemingly does everything he can to make you a screaming mess.

Each grind of his hips is blissful torture. The pleasure builds and builds. The wave gets higher with each slow roll of his hips, your nerves on fire, your muscles taunt and aching, but there's no release. It's blissful and terrifying all at once. It holds you on the precipice, tiptoeing the edge but never allowing the tide to claim you.

He pushes you almost to the point where it's too much, to where you're almost sure you can't take any more, to where your considering begging him for release. But before you have chance his hands are suddenly grasping at your dress, pulling it up out of the way to press his fingers against your clit.

"Cum for me. Cum now," he demands.

And you do. Oh, you do.

You gasp, choking back your moan as your hands fly to grip the edge of the table, so hard your knuckles go white, as the cresting wave finally crashes down over you. Thighs trembling, toes curling, back arching, your eyes flutter shut as your climax rockets through you, uncaring who notices your reaction, lost in the bliss that seems to go on, and on.

You feel Poe's cock throb as he empties himself deep inside you, muting his own climax against your neck, his fingers digging painfully into your thighs as he continues to grind into you with the same slow, deep roll of his hips, riding out both your highs until you come down.

When you finally open your eyes your gaze flickers around the room, quickly checking if anyone had noticed either of you, but everyone seems thankfully lost in their own business. You left out a sigh of relief, your body sagging back against Poe's in sudden exhaustion.

"Told you nobody would see," he mumbles as he nuzzles your neck affectionately.

"You're lucky," you smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

"I am very lucky," he nods seriously, before the edge of his lip tugs up in a cheeky half smile. "Thanks for helping me take care of that problem. I'll repay the favour later tonight… or now?"

You let out a strangled noise as Poe's fingers brush against the inside of your thighs, too close to where his softening cock is still buried inside you, unsure if you want to go again, or if you need a minute to recover. You feel the pilot smile against your neck as you twitch and squirm on his lap. Placing a soft solitary kiss to your damp skin he sighs.

"I'm sorry baby but it seems you might have made quite the mess. You're soaked everywhere." There's an undeniable smirk in his voice that lets you know he's anything but sorry about it, or his part in it. And now he's mentioned it, you can feel it — the slick warmth coating your skin, the evidence of both your climaxes seeping out. There's no denying it must be covering his lap as well as your own, and it makes an embarrassed heat prickle across your skin.

Before you can apologise, his arms wrap around your waist, anchoring you in place, unable to leave his lap as he brings his mouth to your ear. You shiver at his words, body tensing in anticipation.

"I guess you'll just have to sit right there until the party's over."

~~~~~

If you enjoyed reading please, please, leave a comment, or reblog and tell me your thoughts! You opinion, even incoherent letters, or little GIFs, is invaluable to writers. Otherwise we feel we did a shit job and we don't write anymore ;)

Thanks for reading!

[darkmaga-retard]

In fact, here are the 'top 5 lies' that ABC News moderators failed to fact-check via Collin Rugg:

1. Mandatory Firearm Buybacks: Kamala Harris told Trump to "stop lying" about her wanting to confiscate firearms. Harris has previously stated multiple times that she wants to launch a mandatory buyback program. The ABC moderators said nothing. 2. "Fine People" Hoax: Kamala Harris claimed Trump called neo-N*zi's "very fine people." This hoax was debunked by Snopes but the ABC moderators let it slide. The ABC moderators said nothing. 3. Post-Birth Abortion: Trump claimed babies were 'k*lled' outside the womb in failed abortions. Under Tim Walz, babies born alive in botched abortions are allowed to be left to d*e. Eight babies who survived abortions in Minnesota were abandoned and sadly perished under Walz. The ABC moderators simply said Trump was lying and moved on without adding context. 4. Defund the Police: Kamala Harris laughed when Trump said she wanted to defund the police. During a previous interview, Harris said having more cops on the street is "wrong." She also supported taking police officers out of schools. The ABC moderators said nothing. 5. Bloodbath Hoax: Kamala Harris claimed Trump said there would be a bl**dbath if he is not elected, insinuating that his supporters would start k*lling people. This is completely false. The comment was made during a rally where Trump said there would be a "bl**dbath" for the American auto industry if he is not elected. The ABC moderators said nothing.

[orphicdreamers-wp]

Calgary — Ethan Edwards

Summary: You find yourself slipping into old habits and only know one person who can help you. The one person who won’t talk to you. So you turn to music

Content Warnings; Drug addiction, mentions of a previous overdose, angst, mentions of oxycodone.

Pairing; Ethan Edwards x Reader

Based on Calgary by Tate McRae

You stared at the bottle of oxycodone pills on the floor in front of you. You were sitting in the middle of your dorm room floor in tears. This past term had been overly stressful for you, you knew double majoring in criminal justice and political science wasn’t going to be easy for you but you were determined to turn your life around when you changed majors from visual communications. You’d changed your major once you were welcomed back to UMich following your overdose. You had been suspended for 4 months for not following the student conduct policy. You were graciously welcomed back the following academic year, you decided to turn your life around then.

Mostly because your overdose cost you everyone in your life’s trust and support. You also lost more friends than you would like to admit. You wanted to be upset about it but you knew it was your own fault for the ending of your friendships. The biggest loss would have to have been the fact that you lost all the friendships you had with the UMich hockey players. You had no contact with your best friend since you were 3. You felt guilty for him finding you, you felt worse for the words you said to him in the hospital.

You finally caught your breath and shoved you phone and the pill bottle in your pocket as you walked into your private bathroom in your dorm room. You placed your phone on the floor besides the toilet bowl and dialed Ethan’s number. Your heart clenched with every ring, but even more when his voice mail played, “It’s Ethan, don’t leave a message that’s what texts are for.” You sighed after the beep, “Hey Eth, I know I shouldn’t have called but I’m not doing too well. I’m alone in my dorm right now packing to head home for break. I found a bottle of pills. I won’t lie, I thought about taking them. I thought I had my shit my together. I can’t take these though they look tempting. I can’t do that to you guys again.” You let out a sob as you dumped the bottle into the toilet and flushed the toilet. “I miss you E. I’m really sorry.” You hung up as another wretched sob wracked through your body.

Ethan let out a yawn as he sat down at his locker and opened his skate bag and tucked his skates into them neatly. He changed in record time, Mark was going to his girlfriend’s house for the weekend so Ethan had their apartment all to himself, which meant blasting Phoebe Bridgers during his shower in peace. He was sliding his hoodie over his head when he felt his phone in his sweatpants pocket. He hadn’t checked it since he’d come off the ice after practice. Not that he was expecting anything but out of habit.

He slightly panicked when he saw he had a missed call and a voicemail from you. He connected his headphones before pressing play to be met with your sad voice, “I found some pills.” Ethan’s heart rate spiked, he couldn’t lose you again, “I didn’t take any, I miss you E.” He had to sit down in order to not lose his balance. She didn’t take any, she’s okay. That was what Ethan was repeating to himself the entire drive back to his apartment.

—

A good 8 months had passed since you left Ethan that sad sob story on his voicemail. You took a 90 day leave from UMich and admitted yourself into a rehabilitation program. You also started NA and AA immediately after leaving the program. You returned to school and made the deans list and you had taken up songwriting. You also changed majors again to Entrepreneurship and opened a coffee shop.cYou still had a lot of forgiveness to ask for, but you were mending a lot of broken relationships. You hadn’t had any contact with Ethan or anyone you knew around that time. Currently you sat on a barstool holding a acoustic guitar in your coffee shop off of campus. You had expected to see Ethan around campus and in classes, definitely not here and definitely not with a handful of other UMich hockey players.

You tore your eyes away from him and adjusted the microphone in front of you, “Hi guys.” The usual Thursday night crowd, who all had their stories and songs or poems they shared greeted you back. You cleared your throat, “For anyone who doesn’t know how this works. Welcome to Thursday Tunes here at Blessing UnDisguised. I am the owner of the coffee shop and my name is Y/N and I am a recovering alcoholic and addict. I opened this place as I like to call it around 3 months ago. I had my struggles with my recovery and wanted to give myself and others a safe place. And many of my regular costumers here know I write music now, so I have a song I’d like to share if you don’t mind.”

Your eyes held a glimmer Ethan hadn’t seen in years and it almost brought tears to his eyes. He hadn’t heard from you or seen you since before you left him that voicemail. He didn’t reach out, mainly because he didn’t want to hurt you by not being what you needed. But in this moment he could see you had finally gotten the help and stability you needed. A proud smile formed on his face as you tuned your guitar, “Okay so some backstory to this song, I wrote this about 8 months ago. I wrote this while I laid on the floor on my room in rehab. I had realized the night before that I still needed help. Admittedly I called my ex and dumped some of my problems on him. Which I shouldn’t have done. But I checked myself into rehab the next day. I wrote this about a time in my life where I didn’t have anyone because I had drugs. I’ve struggled with drug use since I was 15 years old. I’m now 21, as of 2 days ago. So here’s a song I wrote about being 20 and just feeling alone.”

Same bar, same street. I’m 20 but I still feel 15. Sane fears, same dreams. Still tryna get my brother to like me. You said I always seemed to land on my feet. But I got problems hanging like a chain around my neck. Trying but I’m barely seeing past 23. And the best of me, right now, is lookin a lot like a mess.

I thought I had my shit together. Can’t lie the pills are looking tempting. I thought I was hettting better. No I got better at pretendin.

Old friends, downtown. They didn’t like me then and don’t like me now. Im drunk, oh, wow. My old habits came back around. ‘I’ll figure it out’ that’s what I say. Figure it out and take a break. I’ll figure it out, maybe one day.

I’ll finally get my shit together. Can’t lie, the pills are looking tempting. I thought that I was getting better, no I got better at pretendin.

And I do it again. I’m a creature of habit. The moments gone but I’m still tryna catch it. Everyone left and I never got past in. Never got past it. Same bar, same street. I’m 20 but I still feel 15.”

Ethan felt a pang of sadness in his chest upon hearing his own words he’d used against you in the hospital after you overdosed. Something that stuck with him for a day, but had stuck with you for a year. He felt guilt for abandoning you when you needed him. Mark felt the guilt in his stomach, you’d tried to stay in touch with him, shooting him congratulations messages when they won games, liking his instagram posts and congratulating him on his engagement to his long time girlfriend Zoe. But he ignored you.

You exited the small stage and went behind the stack of books acting as a divider between the customers and workers. You bend down to grab a bottle of water from the cooler and when you stood back up, you were met face to face with Ethan, Mark and a few other players. You felt like crying when you saw the way they were looking at you, “So what do you think? You guys like Blessings UnDisguised or what?” Mark smiled, “It’s beautiful Y/N.” Seamus Casey and Rutger McGroaty were too engrossed in the hockey posters on the walls to reply. Zoe and a red headed girl you knew to be Luca’s girlfriend were flipping through the box of old love letters in the middle of the room to reply.

Ethan stood in front of you with an unreadable expression on his face, “You used it as decor? Here?” He was staring directly behind you. There were two(awfully made) pottery cups on a shelf behind you. They held tea bags and sugar packets. You and Ethan had made them at some pottery shop on a date your freshman year of college. You looked at him, “You always told me I’d find my calling and be amazing. I guess sometimes I still need a reminder.” Ethan smiled, “I’m really proud of you Y/N.” You smiled, “Thanks E. I’m really happy now. I’m proud of you too.”

[nimuetheseawitch]

SGA Summer Vacation Recs

So, a few weeks ago, a friend asked for longfic recommendations to read while on vacation, and I did not really realize how many I was recommending at the time. Seemed like a good idea to make a post about it.

Time in a Bottle by astolat, 14K (not originally on my list because it was too short, but it's too perfect for a summer reading list, so I added it), McShep, Rated E, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings To see a World in a Grain of Sand / And a Heaven in a Wild Flower / Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand / And Eternity in an hour.

The Long Dark (series) by @logicgunn, 141K, McShep, Rated G-E but the first is M, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings An astronomical event causes two strangers to crash land on a remote island in the frozen Canadian north. Cue a fluffy slow burn in a survival setting.

Lord John Sheppard Versus Earth by LitGal, 61K, McShep, Rated M, Graphic Depictions of Violence Canon diverged before Jackson found Atlantis. The IOC stepped in and decided to make things more efficient. A gene testing program brought Major John Sheppard into the program earlier, but budget constraints and international treaties have kept Dr. Jackson out of the antarctic. So now John has to find his own team--and his own geek--or he's in danger of being stuck in the mountain forever as a light switch. However, as the universe changes, fate forces some things to return to proper form, and other things… they get wildly out of control. John isn't sure how he came to be Earth's enemy, but he's going to have to deal with the cards he's dealt.

Teamwork by onthewaters, 24K, McShep and others, Rated E, Graphic Depictions of Violence There is an Earth where things have turned out a little differently, and the people who go to Atlantis aren't quite the ones we know. AKA The one where Rodney is a Mountie.

The Doctor and the Sheppard by @hero-in-waiting, 70K, McShep, Rated E They've been in Pegasus for a year before Rodney is finally allowed to go off-world to meet with the mysterious leader of a group of allies against the wraith. The first meeting goes well, sending them down a path none of them could've foreseen, and leaving Rodney with thoughts of the mysterious leader with his bright eyes and dark hair.

The Hard Prayer by Rheanna, 30K, McShep, Rated M One year after the end of the world, John meets another survivor.

In Sickness and in Health by @a-storm-of-roses, 31K, McShep, Rated E "So I told a little lie, just to get you back to Atlantis. It was the only way, so try not to get too mad. I told them we were married.” When John suffers a major, life-changing injury on Earth, Rodney must pretend to be his husband to ensure his return to Atlantis. As he struggles to navigate recovery and accept his new reality, John must also come to terms with his new role as Rodney's husband and the new dynamics in their relationship. A story of healing, recovery, loss, love, and acceptance.

Enigma by sgamadison, McShep, 32K, McShep, Rated E, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings During an off-world mission, a piece of Ancient technology transports Rodney and John on a one-way trip to a deserted airfield. Working together to get back, it takes a vivid dream to make Rodney realize what's been in front of him all along.

Bridges by bussaiko, 52K, McShep, Rated E Engineer Rodney McKay went to North Carolina's Crystal Coast to help his sister design a series of bridges. He hoped to rebuild his career following a professional disaster; he didn't expect to be drawn into the small community of Athos Island, where he found friendship and perhaps something more with helicopter pilot John Sheppard. But when Rodney tries to learn more about John's past, what he discovers might tear them apart. (non-Stargate AU)

Apocalypse Rising by sian1359, 81K, McShep, Rated M, Graphic Depictions of Violence The Goa'uld are not the only ones who covet Earth.

Zen and the Art of Jumper Maintenance by Indybaggins, 39K, McShep, Rated M The one where Rodney gets sucked in and John… follows. Featuring a quirky John, Rodney in orange robes, crazy Ancient-worship, sheep milking and jumpers that aren't broken but need to be fixed anyway.

Black Helicopters (series) by whizzy, 141K, McShep, Rated T-E but the first is M, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Screw the bet. Rodney was going to prove the existence of extraterrestrial intelligence. Oh, and incidentally, he might just catch the United States Air Force with their pants around their ankles.

Pegasus Purgatorio by MrsHamill, 127K, McShep, Rated E, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings It is difficult to write a paradise when all the superficial indications are that you ought to write an apocalypse. It is obviously much easier to find inhabitants for an inferno or even a purgatorio. (Ezra Pound) Yeah, I'd say that about covers it, Ezra. John and Rodney are left behind when Atlantis (and, by extension, Pegasus) is evacuated. While returning to the Milky Way, they decide to bring a few friends along.

What A Wonderful Bunker You Would Make by ocdindeed, 50K, McShep, Rated M Summary in simple words: Rodney is recluse and John has a kid. Summary in not so simple words: Rodney McKay has given up on the world, living a simple life up on a mountain devoid of people. He likes it that way, at least he did until a kid with a full head of dark hair ambled up his dirt driveway and changed his sequestered life forever. (AU - Set during SG1 & Pre-SGA timeline.)

G******, Tramps, and Thieves* (series) by auburn, 372K, McShep and a whole lot more, Rated T-M, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, later fics Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Vala Mal Doran and her partners, renegades Jehan abd-Ba'al and Meredith McKay, hijack the Tau'ri ship Prometheus and leave the Milky Way behind in search of the Lost City of the Ancients, Atlantis.

*I censored this title due to a common racial slur

[fandom-relapse]

Baby box

Prompt: Moments by Mary Oliver

Fandom: 911

Character / Pairing: Buck/Eddie

Time to write: 46 minutes

Rating: T

Eddie has spent years carefully tucking away his love for Buck. If it were just him, maybe he would have found the courage to say something about it. But nothing worth doing is without risk, and he can't take that risk for Chris.

But there are moments that cry out to be fulfilled; they can only be postponed for so long.

Eddie finally caves when the Buckley parents swing through town like a tornado, leaving everything untouched except a path of destruction directly through Buck.

He knows that some parents have a favorite child, but making it so obvious, displaying it so brutally? They're sat on his couch, Chris at school, and he flinches as Buck tells him about Maddie's baby box, and how he had asked about his own--"like an idiot," Buck says, eyes watery--and how there wasn't one. How he was made for spare parts. How he truly wasn't wanted. He wants to bundle Buck into his lap and hold him. He wants to tell Buck how much he loves him, how much he is wanted.

"I--," and he chokes around the words I want you, berating himself for his inability when Buck turns to him with the saddest puppy-dog eyes he's ever seen. "Wait here," he amends.

Later, he'll wonder what part of it was conscious, this perilous decision to show this to Buck, his grave accumulation of idiocies. He has berated himself over this for so long--creepy, weird, unnecessary, he has admonished himself in his darkest moments.

Nevertheless, he returns carrying a small cardboard box and hands it to Buck, who stares at it for a moment.

"W-what is this?" Buck asks, wobbly, adorably.

Eddie breathes. "Just look," because he can't say, "my heart."

So Buck looks, and Eddie stops breathing as he watches Buck sort through their life, Buck's-life-in-his: tickets to Us, the first movie they saw together alone; photobooth pictures from the pier, which Chris had insisted upon; the post-its they'd left in each others' lockers after they had lost their phones in a rescue (come over for dinner? -e; as long as you're not cooking -b); a program from each of Chris's school plays that Buck had insisted on attending with him (a lot). And more, so much more.

It was all there, Eddie's pathetic assemblage of life-tokens, because he wouldn't be okay if something happened to Buck and there wasn't anything left of him, because this stupid box was all that had gotten him through Buck's close calls. Because maybe their best-friendship could be enough for Eddie, but God did he want more.

He is pulled from his reverie by Buck's arms around him, and Buck's warm breath in his ear, as he whispers, "thank you." And Eddie breathes again.

Well, he's come this far, hasn't he?

His heart is still beating, isn't it?

He's not in chains, is he?

So he says, "I love you. You are wanted. Here." He offers a silent prayer that this doesn't break BuckandEddie into Buck and Eddie, because he's not sure his heart could handle that.

"I love you, too," Buck murmurs.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Bare it all | Part 2

PAIRING | Boyfriend!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Avenger!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 6.2K

SUMMARY | Your relationship with Tony has been a fairytale, but when you unexpectedly become pregnant with his baby, your entire world is turned upside down. You're not sure how he will react to the news, but you will always have your best friend Natasha by your side, no matter what.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Age gap, use of nicknames, established relationship, secret relationship, referenced near-fatal accident, accidental pregnancy, morning sickness, pregnancy test, referenced infertility, referenced anxiety, Natasha's past in the red room is referenced.

SMUT | Dirty talk, praise, daddy kink, innocence kink, size kink, slight breeding kink, teasing, back-scratching, nipple play, oral (F&M receiving), fingering, handjob, deepthroating, facial/cumming on the face, cockwarming, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cream pie, aftercare.

A/N | This one-shot is written based on this request. While writing this story, I kept getting more and more thoughts and ideas to add, so I decided to turn this story into a four-part mini-series! I cannot thank @ccbsrmsf1 enough for the endless support, supply of ideas, and proofreading you've done for me. You're an angel, and I love you 🩷

EVENTS Masterlist | @fandombingo | Road Trip with an Unexpected Companion Masterlist | @fandom-free-bingo Wild | Hair Pulling Masterlist | @mcukinkbingo | Free space

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | Photo: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

The moment you were recruited to join the Avengers after working through SHIELD's most challenging programs, you were paired up with Iron Man to show you the ropes. Your super soldier strength combined with Tony's intelligence was perfect because you two have become inseparable on the battlefield, already knowing what the other person is thinking before they even have to say it.

However, during all your work together, something happened that neither of you expected. You started developing crushes on each other, though you were both too stubborn to admit it out loud, let alone to the other person. When Tony finally gathered his courage to tell you about his feelings, you suffered a near-fatal accident, which served only to bring you closer together.

That moment was a year and a half ago, and the relationship is nothing short of a fairytale - even though you have to keep it a secret from the world. Because of this, Tony ensures you are sent on many missions together so you can have quality time together without having to sneak out of each other's rooms in the middle of the night.

Today, you're supposed to go on a mission alone, and most of the Avengers are ready to wave you goodbye since it'll be one where you will be gone for almost a week. They're all there except one: Tony. Little do you know, however, that he has a plan up his sleeve, and he will surprise you with it in less than a minute after saying goodbye to everyone.

"Have a safe drive-" Steve can say before he gets interrupted by Tony running into the garage, panting slightly with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His cheeks are red from the exertion, making him look cute as you look at him with a small smile. The only times you're used to seeing him like this is when you've worn him out completely in the bedroom, making a flurry of butterflies go wild in your stomach.

"Fury told me to go with you, Y/N. Something about needing an extra pair of hands," he said quickly as he opened the trunk of the car, throwing his bag in and winking at you when no one could see it. You raise your brow as you look at him, a smile simultaneously tugging at the corners of your lips.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Nat shake her head slightly, a smile playing on her lips, too. Neither of you knows she has had a slight suspicion about the two of you being together, but she never talks about it, figuring you will speak to her when the timing is right.

Over the last year, you've been visiting Tony's lab more often than you used to, and Nat has started to take notice. Paired with the fact that you're going on more and more missions together and the downright flirting as you've both had a couple of drinks during parties - it all adds up to only one thing for her. You and Tony are a couple, and she couldn't be happier for the two of you.

"Alright, I'm driving!" Tony tells you before grabbing the keys from your hand. A jolt of electricity goes through your body. You look at him to see if he's felt it, too, and based on his face, you know he has. After being together for the time you have been, you two can read each other like an open book.

"Just consider this a road trip with an unexpected companion, and you'll be fine. Let's go, we have a mission to get to," Tony tells you as he gets in, and you can't help but laugh out loud at his comment. He always makes you laugh, and you wave the rest of the Avengers goodbye before getting into the car's passenger side.

Tony quickly pulls the car out of its parking spot before speeding out of the garage and off to your mission. As soon as you're out of sight, his hand is placed on your thigh, squeezing it softly as you put your hand on his.

"Thank you for coming with me, but I am pretty sure I would have been fine on my own, Tony," you say to him, raising your brow as you look at him defiantly. A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he looks back at you for a second before concentrating on the road again, squeezing your thigh again.

"But that wouldn't be any fun, now would it, Babygirl? You don't think I will let my girl go on a solo mission when our anniversary is in two days?" those words make you realize his true intentions of coming on the mission with you. He trusts you to go on missions alone but also wants to be with you on your special day.

The two of you have about a three-hour drive ahead of you, but because of the nature of the mission, going by Quinjet was off the table, so you had to make the drive out there not to raise any suspicion to yourselves. During this trip, you and Tony share a lot of sweet moments, jokes, and flirty comments, and if it were up to you, you'd want this drive to last forever.

"I believe we're here," Tony says as he parks the car in the driveway of the safe house that Fury arranged for you to stay in. It's a simple house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Nestled among the trees and manicured lawns stood a row of charming houses with white picket fences. The streets were lined with colorful flowers, and the sound of children's laughter filled the air.

You're standing on the porch overlooking the street, where kids ride their bikes and play games. Tony stands behind you, looking at them over your shoulder, his hands placed on your hips, and you sigh softly, closing your eyes for a moment. You have pictured yourself in this scenario countless times, with your kids running around and playing games as your husband, Tony, stands there with you. Unfortunately, you will have to do with the moment you're sharing now, as this idea will be far in your future.

"What's on your mind, Beautiful?" Tony asks you in a soft tone, and you shake your head. You're not ready to discuss your ideal future with him yet, seeing how you're a bit afraid he won't like it or not see you in the same way.

"Nothin'. Just enjoying the sun while I can; I doubt it'll be up for much longer," you tell him, which isn't a lie, but it's not the entire truth either. You allow yourself to melt into his hold as he wraps your arms around your waist, pulling him closer. He doesn't respond, and even though he knows you're holding something back from him, he decides not to push for it. Instead, he opts to enjoy the moment with you - the love of his life - in his arms.

The first two days of the mission have gone well, especially with the help of Tony, and now you're in the kitchen as you're preparing dinner for you both. Tony just finished his shower, and soft music fills the house around you, making the atmosphere quite relaxed.

As you finish the last touches to simple seafood pasta, Tony walks into the open kitchen, and you almost drop the pan you're holding at the sight of your boyfriend. He's wearing tight, black sweatpants that perfectly highlight his bulge, and of course, he decided now would be the perfect time to go without underwear.

Today, you and Tony are celebrating your 1.5-year anniversary. He started the day by surprising you with breakfast in bed and a beautiful bouquet of roses on the kitchen island. A small box and a card accompanied the bouquet. In the box was a necklace with the letter T, which made you chuckle.

"I love it, Tony, thank you. But you'll have to wait for your gift until we're back home tonight," you told him before kissing him deeply. The promise of what's to come later has been buzzing around in both your heads all day whenever there was a spare moment to think about anything other than the mission, and you were both eager to come home tonight.

"So, when will I be getting my present? Before or after dinner?" Tony asks as you put down the pan you're holding. He pushes his chest against your back, allowing you to feel that he's already getting hard at the thought of what's about to happen.

"I was planning on giving it to you after dinner, but I can give you a little taste of what I'm planning for later if you want it," you tell your boyfriend as you turn in his hold, your hand mingling in the hair on the nape of his neck as you pull him close.

"I would love nothing more, Babygirl," Tony whispers against your lips before closing the gap, his soft, pink lips gliding with yours effortlessly as you fully give yourself to him. A soft tug on the hair you're holding has him smirking as he pulls away, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at you with a love-filled look.

Without saying a single word, you push Tony so he's standing with his back against the kitchen island, and your hands roam over his chest, your nails dragging softly over his nipples, making him moan ever so softly. You take your time sinking to your knees, all while never losing eye contact with him as you pull his pants down just enough to free his hard cock.

"It's so big, Daddy! I don't think it'll fit in my mouth," you tell him in a semi-innocent tone, and you can see his cock twitch at your words. From the moment you found out Tony has a colossal innocence kink, you like to act the part now and again, much to his delight.

"Hmm, I think it'll fit perfectly in that perfect, tight mouth of yours, Babygirl," he tells you, his hand cupping your jaw as he looks down at the way you're sitting on your knees before him. His thumb slides over your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth, and your lips close tentatively around it before suckling softly.

"Good girl," Tony whispers before pulling his thumb away, grabbing his cock instead. Your gaze is immediately pulled to the way his veiny, pink shaft is slowly worked up and down by his large hand, his fingers curling around it just the way he likes. A small bead of pre-cum gathers at the tip, and you immediately lick it up, moaning lightly as the taste hits your tongue.

His free hand pulls you closer to it, and you open your mouth instinctively. Your lips wrap around the tip, and your eyes slip shut as you feel the comforting weight of it glide over your tongue. As you take everything Tony gives you, your hands grip his thighs, your cheeks sucked in with every inch Tony gives you.

"That's it, Babygirl, you're taking me so well in that beautiful mouth of yours," your boyfriend grunts out, and you feel your pussy clench around nothing as your arousal builds quickly. Once his tip hits the back of your throat, your eyes shoot open, and they immediately lock onto Tony's.

He pulls back a little bit before repeating the action, and this time you're prepared as he guides you further onto his cock. With a few more strokes, you're taking all of him as your nose is pressed against his pelvic bone, right between his Adonis belt. Tony groans deeply as he keeps you there for a second or two, quickly pulling out before doing it again and repeating this over and over again.

It doesn't take long for Tony to throw his head back, and he groans your name through his teeth as he's on the edge. Without warning, you pull off his cock with a loud pop before stroking his cock in tight strokes. As a result, Tony is surprised when he cums, and every last drop of his seed is on your face and outstretched tongue, making you look filthy.

"Look at you, Babygirl; here I was thinking you're such a sweet, innocent little girl, but all you want is to be painted by Daddy's cum, huh?" Tony asks before scooping some cum from your face and feeding it to you, making you swallow it with a content smile on your face.

"But I am your innocent little girl, Daddy," you say with a small pout and big doe eyes as Tony helps you up. You're still trembling a little from sitting on the tiled floor, but you're more than okay with that. He leans in to place a soft peck on your lips before sending you to the bathroom with a soft swat on your butt. He quickly cleans himself off before finishing dinner for you both, plating it beautifully right when you walk back.

"Thank you for that taste, Babygirl; I cannot wait to see what you'll have in store for dessert," Tony whispers before kissing your temple. You smile at his words, as he doesn't even know half of what you have planned for him later.

"C'mere, Babygirl," Tony says as you're seated on the couch, gesturing to your feet. You're enjoying a glass of wine, and there's a TV show playing that neither of you has heard of before, but it's nice enough for some background noise. With a soft groan, you lift your feet on his lap, and he takes off your socks, tickling the bottom of your feet.

"Hey! Not fair!" you tell him with a large smile. He nods before grabbing hold of one of them and massaging carefully - you can feel the tension seeping out of your feet with every move of his skilled hands, his long, thick fingers massaging every inch of them until you're fully relaxed.

As you give yourself over to your boyfriend's touches, you slowly feel his hand sliding up your legs to massage your shins and calves, making you groan at the comfortable feeling settling in your body. It doesn't take long for him to find your most sensitive spot, though - your inner thighs. He can spend hours planting countless kisses and loving touches there and take his sweet time as he marks them with hickies and soft bites.

"T-Tony," you plead softly as his fingers glide over the soft, sensitive skin there, goosebumps rising after his fingers take their time mapping out every inch of them, driving you insane.

"What's on your mind, Babygirl?" Tony asks, acting as if he doesn't know what his touches do to you.

"More..." you whisper, and as soon as you've put your glass down, Tony pulls you onto his lap smoothly. Before you know it, you're chest to chest with him, your lips mere inches away from each other, panting slightly as it dawns on you what just happened.

"More... what?" Tony's mouth curls into a mischievous smile, and your heart beats faster as you look at it. Moments like these have your mind racing and your heart beating out of your chest because he knows how to push you to the edge. Whichever one that may be at that moment.

Instead of answering him with words, you cup one of his cheeks with your hands, the other gliding into the hair on the nape of his neck as you close the distance between you two. Tony's hands move from your thighs up and under your shirt, and their warmth makes you melt into him even more.

The kiss is slow but filled with love and nothing short of perfection. This time, you decide to take the lead for a moment as you lick the seam of his lips for the entrance you're craving so desperately. Before your wish is granted, Tony pulls away to remove your shirt, leaving you in only your pants and a bra.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your skin as his lips find your neck and shoulder, placing small kisses that have you squirming on his lap. As you do, you can feel him getting hard again, which only spurs you on more.

"Let's take this party to the bedroom, Babygirl. I want to make nothing but sweet love to you for the rest of the night," Tony tells you, but before you can answer, he gets up, and you wrap your legs around his waist to steady yourself, a squeal escaping your lips. His face is filled with nothing but love as he looks at you. He's head over heels in love with you, and he cannot get enough of telling you - and you can't get enough of hearing it from him.

"Okay," you whisper to him. Within less than a minute, Tony made his way upstairs and to the main bedroom, where he carefully placed you on the bed before stepping back and removing his sweatpants. His cock springs free as it's fully hard, and it slaps against his abdomen with a soft splat from the pre-cum that had gathered at his tip already.

You bite on your lower lip as you look at him. Your gaze slides from his broad shoulders to the arc reactor in his chest, surrounded by his soft, dark chest hair, and from his toned abdomen to the happy trail leading you to the place you love more than anything: his glorious, thick, long cock that manages to split you open perfectly every single time. Combined with his beefy thighs and muscled calves, the sight is complete, and the man looks like the God of Perfection.

"You like what you see?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you nod as a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You've never been shy about checking him out when the two of you are alone, and he enjoys taking his time to adore you and your beautiful body as well.

"I always do, Daddy," you tell him as you ogle him for a few more seconds. When you've finally had your fill of looking at him, you lie on your back, allowing Tony to crawl over your body before leaning on one of his arms, the hand on his other one moving to caress your face. Tony takes his time to commit every inch to memory, thinking about how beautiful you are.

"I love you so much, Babygirl; I'm the luckiest man on earth because I'm calling you my girl," he whispers, his hot breath ghosting over your lips as his eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth and back. He can feel his heart beat faster at seeing your smile, as he can never get enough of looking at it and listening to your laugh. Before you get a chance to answer him, he closes the gap between you two, kissing you gently, taking his time to explore the kiss. You two have to do just that all night, and he plans to make every second of it count.

Your hands glide through his hair before pulling on it, not hard, but just enough to make him groan softly into your mouth. Meanwhile, the hand caressing your face moves your neck and over your shoulder before moving over to your bra strap, curling his fingers around it as he slides it off your shoulder.

"Let's get this off, hm? It'll be a lot more fun if I'm not looking at a bra the entire time," Tony says with a wink after pulling away from the kiss. You feel the warmth spreading over your cheeks at his words. His eyes are immediately pulled to the blush on your cheeks, and he doesn't hesitate to pepper both of them with a generous amount of kisses, making you giggle.

"Stop it! You're tickling me with your facial hair!" you protest, but instead of having mercy, he places kisses all over your face, making you squirm under him while you laugh at his ministrations. You're definitely enjoying yourself right now, and being on a mission with Tony during your anniversary only made things even better.

When Tony finally decides to have mercy, he places one last kiss on your mouth that leaves you wanting more, and you follow his mouth when he pulls away.

"Not fair," you pout, and Tony chuckles at your words, shaking his head.

"You want to know what's not fair, Babygirl? The fact that you're still wearing this bra, even though I distinctly remember wanting to get it off," he says, his eyes narrowing at the offending fabric. He shifts so that he's sitting on his knees while straddling your thighs, and he quickly unhooks your bra at the front.

The moment your nipples are exposed to the air, they perk up, and Tony moves down to wrap his lips around one of them, suckling softly as he listens to the soft moan tumbling from your lips. He uses his fingers to give attention to the other, and your hands tightly hold onto his hair as he plays with your sensitive buds.

The constant stimulation has your hips rutting up to seek friction, but every effort is fruitless, as Tony is situated in such a way that he can give you all the pleasure he wants to give you. After a few more minutes of this torturous pleasure, he switches, giving your other nipple the same care and attention as the first one.

He's taking his time to give you the most immense pleasure you've ever felt by someone playing with your nipples. You moan loudly as he carefully bites down on one of them, and your panties are practically ruined from your arousal. At the same time, you pull hair on his hair, and Tony groans against the plush flesh of your breasts, which sends shivers down your spine.

Once he's finally satisfied with the way your nipples look - red and puffy from all the time he spent playing with them - Tony moves down to the button of your pants to pull these down as well, but he ultimately decides to leave your underwear on. He wants to have a little playtime with that first.

"My God, I can smell how turned on you are, Babygirl, and it makes me so hard for you," he whispers as he noses your soaked panties, taking a whiff before letting his tongue glide over the fabric. Your back arches as the feeling of the fabric combined with his skilled tongue has you feeling everything as your sheets are fisted in the sheets to ground yourself.

"Such a sweet, tight, and perfect pussy," Tony whispers as his fingers slide the panties to the side, exposing your dripping and puffy folds, which he spreads to have a look at your fluttering entrance. It clenches around nothing as he blows on it, and you bite on your lip to supress the moan that wants to escape.

Tony looks up at you through his lashes at the sound of your muffled moan. If there's one thing he's always insistent about, it's that he wants to hear you because there's nothing more beautiful than the sound of you falling apart like that because of him. His brow is raised as you look down at him, wondering why he stopped.

"I want to hear you, Babygirl. I want to hear you fall apart on my fingers, my tongue, and my cock," Tony tells you in a stern voice, and you nod in response. With a content smile, he returns to his earlier position, this time latching onto your sensitive clit, making you moan loudly.

He smiles against your pussy as his tongue takes turns to pleasure your clit and your entrance, building your orgasm up quickly. Your chest rises and falls quickly, the pleasure quickly building to an almost blinding high when he surprises you with two of his thick, strong fingers as well. With a loud exclaim of his name, you cum on his tongue and fingers, and he works you through it carefully.

"That's it, Babygirl, let go for me! Good girl, you're a perfect girl for Daddy like this," he says between your trembling thighs, his thumb still working your clit as he laps up every last drop of your arousal. He hums in appreciation at the taste of it; his eyes closed as it coats his tongue again.

"Thank you, Daddy," you say in a breathy voice when you've come down from your high. It didn't take much for you to cum after Tony's teasing and the nipple play, but it was most definitely worth every second of anticipation. He knows your body better than you know your own, and he can play it as if it's an instrument that he took years to master.

"You're more than welcome, Babygirl, but I'm not done with you yet," he tells you between the kisses he places in a trail over your stomach and through the valley of your breasts. You sigh contently as he noses along your jaw, his facial hair feeling prickly yet lovely against the soft skin of your neck.

"I love you," you whisper as he's hovering over you, his cock achingly hard between his legs from the anticipation. He's been ignoring it for a long time, but it's finally time for him to have his fill now, too, and he's getting impatient.

"I love you too, Babygirl, so much," Tony practically purrs before capturing your lips in a heated kiss that catches you off-guard, but you quickly catch up as you pull him closer, and his cock is now resting on your belly. A small puddle of pre-cum gathers there, and you snake your hand between your bodies to give him a few strokes, getting him ready for what's about to come.

"Hmm, do that again, Babygirl," Tony says, his voice dropping almost an octave as you squeeze his tip softly, and he grunts into your ear as you do exactly as he asks. He ruts into your hand at the feeling of your small fist around his cock, your fingers barely touching as you're wrapped around him. He groans as he keeps fucking your hand, but before it's too late, he quickly pulls away, leaving you with a slight pout on your face.

"Don't worry, sweet girl, there's plenty of time to do that later, but I can't wait any longer to be buried in your tight, pink pussy." Your heart races as his words sink in, and you involuntarily clench around nothing but air, your pussy eager to be filled by your boyfriend's thick cock, splitting you open just the way you like it.

A few seconds later, Tony lines up with your entrance, a loud moan tumbling from your puffy lips as the tip breaches your entrance. Your hands are fisted in the sheets as you allow him to fill you up completely, short strokes ensuring he doesn't hurt you in the process. Grunts fall from his lips as he works his shaft into your squeezing, tight pussy.

"That's it, take my cock, such a good girl for Daddy." You will never get used to the feeling of Tony sliding, but you welcome it nevertheless. From the moment you two stopped using condoms, and you started birth control, your sex life has changed completely. Where you were always ready for each other before, you have become insatiable after that.

The second his cock hits your sweet spot, you arch your back into him, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even closer. His face is nuzzled into your neck as a comfortable silence has fallen over you both. Your fingers trail abstract figures on his shoulders and back as you enjoy each other's feelings. All you have to think about is each other and your love.

Once Tony cannot take it any longer to stay still, he starts with slow, shallow thrusts that have you whimpering softly and a smile tugging at Tony's mouth.

"So good, Babygirl, you feel so good around my cock, I can't wait to fill you with my cum and watch it leak out of you when I'm done. God, my balls are so full for you," he whispers in your ear, his hips thrusting into your welcoming pussy faster and faster with each stroke. The sound of your combined moans and skin slapping against your skin is like the chorus of your love, and you never want this song to end.

"I'm close, Babygirl, 'm gonna fill you up," he groans, and you're so far gone you cannot even form coherent sentences anymore. Your moans are becoming louder, and your nails are now digging into his back instead of tracing lazy figures, and red welts are appearing where your nails are raking down his broad, muscled back.

As his high is quickly approaching, Tony moves his face from your neck in a way that has your foreheads touching, making this moment even more intimate than it already was. The brown of his eyes has been completely replaced by his dilated pupils, lust being visible in them.

"Cum with me, Babygirl, please," he begs, and you nod as your bodies move together perfectly, your highs both building rapidly. The second Tony's hand moves between your bodies and reaches your clit, and you're squeezing him like a vice, your legs trembling as you cum for him, shortly followed by Tony.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Squeezing me perfectly, Jesus! Can't wait to fuck you so full of my cum that it has no way to go but inside you, get you nice and round with my babies," Tony grunts through his orgasm, the long, slow strokes replaced by short and quick ones as he spills every last drop of him inside you, the warmth filling you up completely.

Tony takes his time to ride out both your orgasms, but as soon as you're both too sensitive, he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty yet satisfied after everything that happened. With a smirk, he keeps hovering over you, your faces mere centimeters apart. You reach up to kiss his lips softly, making your heart flutter at the feeling.

"I love you so much, Babygirl," Tony whispers before placing one more peck on your lips and taking his place beside you. As you curl onto his side, you hook your leg over him, and your arm lies on his stomach, your hand tracing circles over his arc reactor. You two stay in the comfortable silence for a few minutes before getting up for a much-needed bath.

"You can stay in bed, Babygirl. I'll run a bath for us both and get some of your favorite fruits to eat as we're relaxing," he tells you, and you nod at his words. The second he slips out of the bath, you miss him and his warmth, but that is quickly forgotten when he's ready for you to get into the tub's warm water.

"There you go, such a good girl," Tony says as you sit in the bath, a blush creeping over your cheeks. His praise will always make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Your boyfriend quickly joins you in the bath before pulling you onto his lap, his fingers massaging your sore muscles as you nibble on the sweet fruit he brought up in a bowl.

"Happy anniversary, Daddy," you tell him right before popping a piece of the fruit in his mouth, and he smiles contently as he chews it.

"Happy anniversary, Babygirl. I hope there will be many more just like this one," he says, sealing his promise with a soft and loving kiss.

It's been about eight weeks since you and Tony celebrated your anniversary on the mission, but now you're lying in bed with a cold compress on your head and your trashcan nearby in case another wave of nausea threatens to come back. You were supposed to be training with Natasha, but you had to cancel due to how you're feeling.

Instead of being in the training room with you, Natasha sits on your bed to keep you company, talking your ear off about her crush on Bruce. While you're usually all ears about it, you can now only think about one thing: the birth control pill you forgot all those weeks ago.

"I think I might be pregnant," you croak out when Natasha is waiting for an answer to a question you didn't catch.

"You're-"

"Pregnant, yes. Or so I think," you tell her with a groan as you slide the compress onto your eyes to shield them from the light in the hopes that you're saved from your next wave of nausea, but to no avail. While Nat usually chats to her heart's content, she's silent as the news sinks in.

"It's Tony's, isn't it?" she outright asks, and you sit up too quickly, which is a bad idea, as you grab the trashcan once more.

"H-how did you-" is all you can say, but she just gives you a reassuring smile.

"I'm not blind, Detka; you and Tony have been hanging out more and more together, and believe it or not, you're not as subtle as you both think you are. While I doubt any of the others would pick up on it, I have had my suspicions for quite a while," Natasha tells you, and you nod.

"We've been together for a little over a year and a half; we started dating after the mission that almost cost me my life," you tell her with a smile. He makes you truly happy, but the thought of being pregnant also scares you.

"On the one hand, I'm hoping it's true, that I am indeed pregnant, but on the other hand, I'm not sure what to feel if it's true. We never even talked about having kids, and even though I'm more than ready to take the next step, I don't know about him! What if he leaves me and doesn't want the baby? Do I take care of it by myself or put it up for adoption?" The words are all coming out in a long stream as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

"Why don't we start by calming down and taking a test before jumping to conclusions? I understand it's scary, but before we take a test, there's nothing to worry about, okay?" she tells you, and you nod. This is how you find yourself sitting on your bed, staring at a timer after taking a test.

The moment it goes off, you turn the test over, and it shows a clear positive. You're carrying Tony's baby, and mixed feelings are swirling through your body. Happiness and anxiety are at the top.

"I'm having a baby," you whisper as you show her the test. Without saying a word, she pulls you into a hug, and you let your emotions go for a moment. Sobs are tearing through your body, and she's there to comfort you through it all. Natasha has been there for you through everything since you became an Avenger, and this won't be any different.

"I'm so happy for you, Detka," Natasha says as she lets her tears fall. During her time in the red room, the ability to carry children has been brutally taken away from her, but that doesn't mean she won't be there for you. She will live the pregnancy vicariously through you, and you're more than happy to share it with her.

"You'll be a great Mom, Detka. They're lucky to have you as a Mom," Nat whispers, and you nod in her hold. When you've both come down from the initial shock and emotions, you stare at the test some more, and the worry immediately makes way for happiness. You're going to be a Mom, and you can't wait to meet the baby growing inside you.

Eventually, Natasha has to leave for an appointment, and you go to the kitchen, though your bounds of nausea are most prevalent in the morning. As you stand by the counter, you hear Tony's footsteps come into the kitchen when, and you close your eyes, gripping your glass as he comes to stand beside you.

"Can we talk for a moment? I have barely seen you for these past two weeks, and I'm worried about you," Tony asks. The worry in his voice is evident, and you know you don't have a choice other than to talk to him. With a soft sigh, you nod and follow him to his office, the closest private space where it's normal for the two of you to talk.

Here goes nothing, you tell yourself as you close the door behind you, the pregnancy test still in your back pocket as you step into the ample space. Tony's about to discover your recklessness, and you're 99% sure you will be single after this conversation. However, nothing could be further from the truth.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Elementary, Chapter Eight:

pairing: pre-outbreak joel miller x sarah’s teacher!reader

rating: E (18+ only, mild mentions of nerves/anxiety, mostly just cutesy summery fluff, alcohol consumption, shower sex, unprotected piv, these two just don’t stop, do they??)

wc: 4.6k

series masterlist | joel masterlist | playlist

— May 27, 2000 —

The auditorium quickly grew stuffy once everyone began filing in, eager to find good seats for the upcoming 5th grade promotion ceremony. The sweltering and humid air from this summer’s first heat wave snuck in, even with the loud, industrial fans attempting to keep the gymnasium cool by blowing it out.

You stood in the even hotter back room of the auditorium with the school’s entire fifth grade class—about 150 tweens running around, excited for the summer to officially begin. Fanning your face with the ceremony program, you relished in the air hitting the bead of sweat that trickled from your scalp down your neck and throat, your eyes nervously scanning the incoming crowd for your favorite fifth grader and her father, the two cutting it short on time.

Tommy had already arrived, taking his seat in the front row beside both of Joel’s parents. You made sure to go over and quickly greet them as soon as you saw them, Mary giving you a tight squeeze while both of the Miller boys simply offered you a smile.

“Where’s Joel and Sarah?” You turned to Tommy, receiving a chuckle and a shrug in response.

“Runnin’ late like always,” he replied in his signature Texas drawl. “Think Joel got a stain on his shirt when we were at Whataburger and had to go home to change.”

“Well, that’s what he gets for not inviting me out with you guys,” you feigned sass with a smirk, knowing that your obligations here at the school prevented you from attending the gathering even if they’d offered.

“Hey, I think they want us to corral the kids in the back,” John, your overly friendly co-worker and fellow fifth-grade teacher, tapped your elbow and stole you from the conversation.

“Alright.” You nodded at him before turning back to Joel’s family. “Well, I’ll see you guys after the ceremony?

“Yep. Oh, and good luck on your speech, sweetie,” Mary called out and you waved at her in response.

Now, the clock was ticking, the ceremony beginning in less than three minutes. You knew you could postpone it a bit if you wanted, maybe get another five or ten minutes of room for Sarah to show, but you remained hopeful that the Millers would show up before you had to stall. Thankfully, just as the clock hit five, Joel and Sarah came jogging in through the back door.

“There you are,” you whispered as they found you, hugging Sarah quickly before ordering her to find her place in the alphabetically ordered line of students. “Yeah, between Michael and Nessa.”

“Sorry,” Joel whispered as you returned to the front of the line again, leaning in to quickly kiss you on the cheek, his hand resting on the small of your back. You hushed his apology and gave his chin a loving pinch. “M’gonna go find a seat, alright?”

“Tommy saved you a chair up front,” you whispered, pointing towards the front row.

Joel flashed you a smile before rushing off into the now-hushed auditorium, Pomp and Circumstance beginning to play through the shitty speakers. After watching him go, you turned around to greet the line leaders with a reassuring smile. “Ready?”

After a confident nod from the kids, you gave the thumbs-up to John who was waiting further into the room. Soon, the kids started their march up the aisles of metal folding chairs to the beat, smiling and waving at their parents hurrying to try to capture a good picture from the audience.

You hurried to the front of the auditorium to guide the kids into their seats, assuring that they didn’t throw off the entire seating plan, and therefore throw off the entire order of the program. While supervising, your eyes found Joel’s in the audience, his smile content as he watched Sarah walk down the aisle in her polyester cap and gown. You’d never get tired of watching Joel love his daughter the way every little girl deserves to be loved by their father—the way you and so many others wished you were.

With all the kids now seated, you stepped up the stairs at the side stage to join the rest of the fifth grade teachers, principle, and superintendent. When you took a seat to allow the student-body president to come up, make the introductory remarks and recite the Pledge of Allegiance, your eyes found Joel’s again, this time finding him already staring at you. Your friendly smile quickly turned into a grin, forcing you to hide behind your program. The Pledge acted as a distraction from his shit-eating grin that you know was still pointed at you.

“Now, we’d like to invite our fifth-grade teachers up to make some remarks directly to their students.” The principle called you up one by one, leaving you for last. Smiling and shaking her hand, you accepted your place at the podium, the bright stage lights blinding you from most of the audience, but Sarah and Joel’s sweet smiles were bright and clear as you looked into the crowd, finding them looking up at you.

Your once smoothly practiced speech was now stuttered, Joel’s eyes fixed on you making you more nervous than the entire audience combined. You stumbled your way through it before blushing back to your seat and shaking your head at him in the audience, clapping for you.

After a round of speeches from the higher ups at the school, the principle began handing out certificates, the rest of you waiting on the side to shake the child’s hand and allow their parent to take a picture. When Sarah’s name was called, you took a deep breath, trying to keep your tears at bay as you watched this little girl that you’d grown to love like a daughter walk up to you with her certificate in hand. Turning towards the audience, Joel stood near the stage with a disposable camera pressed to his eye.

“Say cheese!” he called and you and Sarah obliged, grinning through your tears as you hugged her to your side. “Beautiful!” he complimented, moving to the side stage to help his daughter down the stairs and walk her back to her chair while you went back to work.

After the ceremony had ended and your obligations ended, you hurried out to the courtyard to find the Miller’s gift table. Joel had Sarah tucked into his side in the shade of a willow tree, a balloon tied to her wrist as she talked to Jessie while Joel talked to Jessie’s mother. You walked up to the table fifteen or so feet away to greet his mother and he flashed you a smile, clearly trying to wrap his conversation up so he could talk to you instead. Just as the conversation seemed to die with Jessie’s mother, Jessie’s father came over and started it back up.

“You look so beautiful in this light, sweetheart!” Mary nearly squealed as she turned to look at you, your face illuminated in the golden summer light paired with the shade of the willow tree. “Let me take your picture.”

“Oh, please,” you chuckled, waving off her compliment as a joke, but then she was reaching for the camera, winding it up before clicking a few different shots of you. The clicking of the camera seemed to catch Joel’s attention, his eyes now unabashedly fixed on you rather than the couple yapping his ear off.

“Excuse me,” Joel excused himself from the conversation and let Sarah go run off with Jessie, much to her delight, his eyes and smile fixed on you as you talked to his mother like you were old friends.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a smile, keeping your feelings tamed around his parents. Joel, however, didn’t seem to care. Slipping his arm around your waist, he placed a soft but sweet kiss on your lips.

“Hey,” he greeted back finally.

“We’re at an elementary school, Joel, must you feel up your girlfriend in front of everybody?” Joel’s father, Paul, spoke, effectively scaring you off of any more PDA. Joel gave you a frown and attempted to pull you back into his side, but you shook your head. Joel nodded and allowed you to go off to deliver cards to the rest of your student’s tables while he dealt with his father.

“She’s intimidated by you already, pop, you know that.” Joel scolded his father with a hand perched on his hip, the older man shrugging in indifference.

“That ain’t my fault,” he argued, earning a scoff from his eldest son.

“He’s just extra grumpy ‘cause it’s hot out today,” Mary interjected into the conversation, apologizing on her husband’s behalf.

“Dad, when can we go home for the party?” Sarah came running up to her father, the remnants of a popsicle turning her lips red.

“Whenever you want,” he replied, his eyes scanning the courtyard for you, finding you talking with John, a look of pure discomfort on your face. “Hey, remember how we worked on aim last week?” Joel grabbed the soccer ball beneath his daughter’s feet and held it up, pointing at you and the man clearly bugging you. “Think you got it? Don’t wanna hit the wrong person now.”

“Oh, I got it,” Sarah grinned and lined herself up for the kick, using all the confidence and skill Joel had instilled in her over the years, and went for it.

The ball cut through the courtyard like a bullet, hitting John square in the ass. Joel had to hide his glee over not only his daughter’s amazing shot, but John’s whining. You locked eyes with him from across the yard and gave him a playful head shake before excusing yourself and coming back over.

“You two—“ You pointed at Joel and Sarah, the duo snickering like children when you approached them. “Could have hit me, or somebody else—“

“But I didn’t…because I’m amazing,” Sarah countered, and you couldn’t find it in you to disagree.

“You think that got the message across?” Joel asked, nudging his chin to gesture behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see John pouting and staring back at the two of you.

“I don’t know, he’s persistent.” You turned back to Joel and gave him a smile while Sarah snuck back off to find her best friend. “Why? You jealous, Miller?”

“Very,” he admitted freely, reaching for your hand and using it to pull you against his chest. “Don’t wanna lose you to Matthew McConaughey.”

“You’re not going to lose me to anyone. I’m perfectly happy right here with Joel Miller.” Joel’s smile spread so wide that his dimples made a rare appearance, his eyes crinkling as he leaned in to kiss you. Allowing him a subtle peck, you held him back to prevent him from getting too handsy with you. “How about we leave? Start the real party at your place where I can kiss you freely without my bosses staring at me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded and pulled away from you in a show of strength, walking over to the gift table. Joel ordered Tommy to help carry the gift bags and cards from Sarah’s friends before collecting his daughter. “Alright, ma, we’ll see you at the house?”

“Yep, but we gotta go swing by ours first and pick up the pies I baked,” she drawled back as her and Paul got up to follow you all out to the parking lot.

You bid the Millers goodbye in the parking lot before heading to your car, having driven to the ceremony on your own. You needed to swing by your place anyways, your dress now much too formal for the laid-back pool party ahead of you tonight.

Quickly hurrying inside, you changed into your favorite and most conservative black one-piece swimsuit and a pair of denim shorts. Next, you threw on a new layer of lotion and sunscreen, touched up your makeup, before finally packing your overnight bag in case you decided to stay over at Joel’s place tonight, which you were already sure you were going to do.

By the time you made it over to his place, Joel was greeting his cousins as they arrived before you with their families. You watched him watch you from the sidewalk, a smirk tugging at your lips as he rushed his cousins into the house so that he could greet you quicker.

“Finally,” he playfully scolded as you met him at the door, his arms wrapping around your waist and giving you a squeeze. “You look beautiful.”

“You’re just sweet on me,” you retorted with a grin.

“Damn right.” His lips pressed against yours deeper than earlier tonight, no one around anymore to scold the two of you for being eager. You hummed against his lips as he held you there, swaying you on his front step for all his neighbors to see as they wandered over for the big party.

“Nice to see you in love,” Mrs. Green, a retired teacher and recent widow that lived across the street, came over and beamed at the two of you as she arrived for the party. Joel let you head inside while he greeted the new guests with friendly smiles, mumbling something about the ladies “embarrassin’” him.

Outside, you found his backyard to be full of people both new and familiar, but mostly new. You awkwardly tucked yourself in the corner as you debated going up to some of his cousins to introduce yourself, but worried that perhaps Joel would want to do that himself, or maybe not at all. It had only been two and a half months since you started seeing each other, after all.

“What the hell are you doin’ hidin’ over here?” Tommy found you and laughed, shaking his head at you before pointing across the pool at the coolers. “Go get yourself something to drink and have fun. Us Millers are simple people, it ain’t gonna be hard to win us over.”

You chuckled and followed his advice, weaving your way through the packed backyard to the coolers to grab yourself a beer, the crispness of a good, icy Corona making your mouth water.

“Knew I’d find you by the booze,” Joel wrapped his arms around your waist as you lifted a beer out of the ice. You turned in his arms and held the beer out for him.

“You got a bottle opener?” Joel nodded and reached into his pocket for his keys, quickly popping the cap off before handing your drink back to you. “Tommy sent me over because he saw how nervous I was.”

“Nervous?” he asked, reaching into the cooler for himself. “What are you nervous about?”

“Meeting your family, I guess,” you shrugged, giving him a shy smile. “Want them to like me.”

“Baby,” he chuckled and tilted his head at you, pulling you into his arms. “You’re the most educated person here, you’re the kindest person here, the funniest, the best lookin’…you don’t have to impress anybody. They gotta impress you.”

You placed a hand on his cheek and looked at him with an adoring smile, too in love with him for your own good.

“Come on, you wanna help me with the grill? Keep me company, put some cheese on some patties, hand out some hot dogs?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and proudly walked you through the party, introducing you along the way to some of his cousins as they whistled at the two of you. “See?” He leaned in to whisper to you as you stood at the grill together. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

The party went on well into the evening, Sarah still doing cannonballs into the pool with Jessie while you looked on, acting as a lifeguard. Joel was walking the last of his family out, calling cabs and arranging carpools for the drunk ones. You sat curled up on a patio chair, a dopey, content smile on your face as you watched the girls play mermaids together, reminding you of fond childhood memories of summertime.

“All gone,” Joel husked from behind you as he draped his arms over your shoulders, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek and whisper in you ear. “Think it’s time to get the girls in bed so you and I can go for a swim.”

“Yeah?” you turned, looking up at him with a bright smile. “I think that sounds nice.”

“I’ll break the news.” Joel left you to go squat down by the edge of the pool, both of the girls groaning in unison as he told them that it was well past bedtime. “It’s midnight, baby girl. Y’all can swim more tomorrow.”

Sarah finally gave in, though it wasn’t as though she had much of a choice in the matter. As soon as they wrapped themselves in their towels, both girls yawned and grew sluggish, the workout of their all-night swimming finally hitting them.

Joel walked both girls upstairs and stayed inside the house for a while, no doubt waiting for their snores to sound before coming back out to join you as you waded in the warm water. You didn’t mind the wait, choosing to spend your time floating around, your eyes closing to allow you to relish in the peace of the moment, the warm, nighttime summer breeze prickling your skin as it blew against your wet skin.

“Water bug.” Joel’s voice interrupted your floating, your head springing up to watch him as he stepped into the pool, one hand holding two bottles of beer, the other carrying two shot glosses. “Thought we’d take a celebratory shot seein’ as you made it through the last day of school.”

“That is a cause for celebration,” you agreed, accepting the beer and shot glass from his hands. You followed him over to the edge of the pool, both of you setting your beers down before holding up your glasses of silver tequila. “To Sarah being a middle-schooler.”

Joel winced and held his hand over his heart.

“Too soon, I’m not ready to accept it,” he joked. “How ‘bout…to our first summer together. First of many, that is.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t see a ring in my finger,” you teased, wiggling your ring finger at him playfully.

“Oh, I plan on fixin’ that in due time, baby. Don’t you worry.” He grinned, delighting in the fluster his words caused. “Alright, alright. To us.”

“To us.” You clinked your shot glass against his and tipped the liquor back, only gagging a little as you used your beer to wash the medicinal taste down with a shiver. “Ugh, still hate it.”

“Yeah, that used to be a hell of a lot easier.” He shuddered and took another swig of his beer before reaching for you, pulling you close in the warm water. You wrapped your legs around his waist and held his face in both hands, grinning at him like you were the happiest woman alive. “You’re so beautiful, baby. Right now—“ He shook his head and lifted his hand, his fingers tracing the side of your face. “Can’t stop lookin’ at you like this. So beautiful.”

“Are the girls asleep?” you asked, leaning in to hover your lips over his. Joel nodded, squeezing your hips to pull you closer. Planting a soft, teasing kiss to his lips, you spoke again, whispering against him. “You up for a game of Marco/Polo?”

“I…was thinkin’ we were gonna do somethin’ else, but I guess—“

“Trust me,” you purred, kissing him once more before pulling away, making him chase you. “I think you’ll like the way I play.”

“Oh, will I?” he smirked and watched you as you slowly swam away.

“You’re Marco, I’m Polo. Close your eyes.” Joel obeyed your command with his smile still wide, so playful he almost looked like a kid again. Resting his hands over his eyes for extra measure, Joel gave you a nod to signal he was ready.

“Marco!” he called as you slipped carefully towards the steps.

“Polo!” you called back, and he turned to you, his ears well-trained, it seems.

“Marco!” His smile widened, his feet walking him slowly in your direction as you stepped out of the pool as silent as the breeze warming your skin.

“Polo!” you called back, meeker than before as he neared the steps himself. Hurrying with the plan, you peeled off your bathing suit, keeping it in hand for when he called again.

“Marco…” His voice was now low, his feet padding across the patio to find you under the built-in gazebo where his singular lounge bed sat. You let the wet one piece hit the stone below your feet with a wet slap, Joel’s hands falling from his eyes as he opened them, finding you bare to only him and the moon above, the trees in his backyard shielding you from the Adler’s sight.

“Polo,” you finally replied in a purr. “Guess I lost.”

“Guess so,” he rasped, stepping to you until he was pressing his body into yours, his hands gripping at your hips and waist. “Baby, I want to fuck you out here so bad, but I can’t risk the girl’s sneakin’ out for a swim only to find us here…goin’ at it.” You nodded in understanding, resting your hand on his face as you started to feel embarrassed by your too-bold idea. “But that don’t mean I don’t want to collect my prize, darlin’. Get your towel on and get your beautiful ass upstairs.”

“Oh,” you gasped at the hunger in his eyes, not having seen him so worked up over you since the first time you slept together. The sight thrilled you with excitement.

“Go on,” he grinned, charming as ever. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

Your feet propelled you into obedience, hurrying you into the house with your towel wrapped tightly around your frame, Joel’s eyes on you the entire time. You jogged upstairs and got freshened up a bit, showering off the pool water until you felt and smelled a bit more like you. While giving your legs a quick run-over with your razor, you watched the bathroom door click open, Joel’s form in the foggy glass coming into focus more and more as he walked through the steam. He was stripped down to just his smile when he opened the shower door and stepped in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Here to collect your prize?” you asked teasingly. Joel shook his head and placed a lingering kiss onto your shoulder.

“Just here to be with you,” he replied, soft as ever. “And then afterwards—“

“Knew it,” you chuckled, finishing your half-assed shave job before turning him into the stream of the water. Joel hissed at the temperature and turned it down a bit before soothing into it. You squeezed his body wash into your palm before rubbing it onto his chest, the white suds contrasting with his golden skin. “What were you doing downstairs?”

“Put a frozen pizza in the oven ‘cause I didn’t get any food earlier,” he replied softly, his eyes closed shut as you washed his body, your hands eventually wandering to his half-erect cock to stroke him. “Mm, your hands seem to be payin’ an awful lot of attention to that one specific area.”

“Drawn to it like a moth to a flame,” you replied, half-kidding.

“Baby,” he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. “What do you think about…maybe spending the summer over here?”

“You mean like…move in?” Your eyes studied his thoroughly as you froze. With a nervous nod and equally timid smile, Joel nodded.

“Not…permanently, or anythin’. I know it’s soon, but…I just…I don’t wanna be without you this summer,” he confessed, cupping your cheek. “Wanna be able to wake up with you in my bed every mornin’. And, if you get tired of me, you can go back to your place. Just…I just want to soak up all the time I can before school starts back up and work gets crazy for me again.”

“Okay,” you nodded, your smile growing as you threw caution to the wind. Besides, it wasn’t permanent, and you were already staying over most nights anyways. “I’ll pack a bag tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, half-convinced he hasn’t heard you right.

“Yeah.” You bit your lip and wrapped your fist around his now fully hardened length, giving it a squeeze at the base. “I need you, Joel.”

“Here or in bed?” he asked, leaning in to kiss your neck.

“Here,” you sighed out a moan as his tongue swiped over your pulse. Joel let out a groan against your skin and nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist and turning you to press your back against the wall. “We can do the extra stuff later,” you panted, gripping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. “I just need to feel you right now.”

Joel groaned again and kept his face buried in your neck as his cock sank deep into your heat, your breath hitching as he stretched you open.

“So good,” you whispered into his ear as you kissed his sideburn, Joel’s head nodding against you earnestly as he withdrew himself and sank back inside. “Love you.”

“Love you,” he husked, lifting his head so that he could rest his forehead against yours. Sounding more desperate than before, he whined against your lips and continued fucking into you fast enough to make his heart pound in his chest, “I love you so much, baby.”

Licking his fingertips, he lowered them to your clit, rubbing over the liquor-heightened nerve endings there like he was on a mission. You bit his shoulder to muffle the sob threatening to erupt from your chest, his body working against yours like it was made just to please you. Perhaps it was.

“I’m so fucking close,” you warned, guiding his lips to yours. Joel moaned, his lips vibrating against yours as he kept at it, just adding the slightest bit more pressure. “Joel, fuck…I’m—fuck.”

“G-od,” he choked on his praise as he felt you cum for him, your walls like a vice grip around his already throbbing cock. “Baby…you want me to cum? Cum inside you? Can I?”

“Yes,” you panted, tightening your leg’s grip around his hip as it rested there, pulling him in deeper. Joel’s moans were wanton, giving your own a run for their money as he fucked into you like some sort of primative creature. You held on tightly to his shoulders as he fucked you into the wall, your feet slipping on the floor from the force of his thrusts, but he was quick to scoop you up and pin you against the tile, your knees folded over his forearms. “Holy fucking shit, Joel!”

He had you spread open, his cock drilling deeper than it ever had before in this new, punishing angle.

“That’s so fuckin’ good,” he praised, his words drawling out. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna—god damn—gonna make you mine.”

When he came, his groan was so loud, so primal, that you had to place your hand over his mouth to muffle it, though it nearly hurt you to quiet such a pretty sound. His chest heaved, his golden skin turned red from the exertion and heat of the water.

“Fuck,” he panted as he set you down onto your feet and crowded you against the cool wall of the shower once more, kissing your lips soft and sweet. “I know you’re gonna think I’m just sayin’ shit, but…sex has never felt this good, baby. With anyone.”

“No, I know what you mean. Sex before you was always so…iffy. But with you—“ You held his face in your hands and gave him a dopey grin. “It’s always perfect.”

“God,” he exhaled and shook his head at you, matching your smile. “You sure got me wrapped around your finger, don’t ya?”

“That’s okay, you usually have me wrapped around you in a couple different ways.” Joel gasped at your cheekiness befor laughing.

“I think I’m startin’ to wear off on ya.” You giggled and nodded, leaning into his kiss. “Good.”

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

[thedrarrylibrarian]

hi!! I first off wanted to say THANK YOUU!! I came across your page abt two months ago when I needed new fics and I use your recs so often!! I was wondering, what are a few of your all-time favorite fics, if you had to choose? (:

Oh my goodness! I'm so glad to hear that you've been enjoying my blog! I can't believe I've been running this blog for 3 years today!

What a fun ask (I've been sitting on this so I could use it for today!) I really struggled to pick fics - or more accurately, not to pick ALL the fics! I picked fics that are my go to rereads - whether it's because they make me laugh or because they pull at my heartstrings, or because they're so hot, these are some of my personal favorites.

Cupboard Love by @shealwaysreads (4,184 words, rated G)

Cupboard Love: the psychoanalytic theory of an infant’s primary drive being food which, when satisfied, leads naturally to a secondary drive for attachment.

Harry’s life, and love, in food.

Still Warm, Still Warm by @tsauergrass (4,899 words, rated G)

Harry is up to something. Why else would he keep giving Draco presents?

Five Little Things by @bixgirl1 (6,197 words, rated T)

Harry was supposed to be good at this.

Headway by orphan_account (7,482 words, rated M)

“It’s called courting,” Draco spat suddenly, livid and red in the face. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand a single thing about it, actually Potter, since it’s formal, and there are rules, and neither of those are concepts you’d know anything about even if they took on human form and kicked you right in the fucking dick.”

The Exhale by spqr (7,506 words, rated T)

Hermione makes a soft, concerned sound. "Harry, look at this." She shows him an article with a photo, but the photo's not moving; it must be a Muggle newspaper. "NASA have just landed a rover on Mars. It's called Curiosity, and look, this is so--I don't know if it's sweet or sad, but--it's all alone out there, and they programmed it to sing itself Happy Birthday."

Nothing is wrong, but Harry starts crying.

Silverpoint by @tackytigerfic (8,836 words, rated E)

It seems fairly simple to you, but you know that you don't really understand love - how could you, after all? You've never known how to talk about it, but you've never had to before. Everyone you ended up loving has always understood. You've been able to show them, by fighting for them, dying for them.

That seems a bit much- after all, Malfoy just wants tea in bed and his cock in your mouth (not usually at the same time).

It's ok to love him, you reason with yourself - he doesn't have to know. No one ever has to know.

Quick as a Flash of Lightning, Unhurried as Eternity by @onbeinganangel and @babooshkart (10,000 words, rated E)

Can you fall in love with someone by simply watching them fiercely love another version of yourself?

The Way These Days Seem to Go (And Go) by @firethesound (15,230 words, rated T)

Stress baking isn’t a hobby Harry ever thought he’d pick up, but he’s surprised to find how much it helps him to get through those long months post-war. It keeps his hands busy, it keeps his mind occupied, and when Draco Malfoy steadily pushes his way back into Harry's life, it helps with that too.

Let him lead me to the banquet by @harryromper (16,066 words, rated T)

The worst part is Harry’s got no idea why Malfoy keeps sending him invites. He’s never replied to a single one. And if the whole dinner is as exclusive and sought-after as the Prophet keeps breathlessly reporting, then presumably the only reason Malfoy wants him there is in his capacity as the Chosen One. So, really, he can fuck right off. Harry doesn’t care about Draco Malfoy’s redemption tour. And he’s certainly not going to help him with it.

Draco Malfoy Absolutely Does Not Need to Be Loved by Harry Bloody Potter by @nv-md (18,153 words, rated E)

It’s not easy to be bonded to your childhood rival, turned fuckbuddy, who you also have extremely uncomfortable but repressed feelings for—just ask Draco Malfoy.

When You Kiss Me (What A Lovely Way to Burn) by @femmequixotic (22,167 words, rated E)

A drag fairytale of New York in which Draco wears red lipstick and Potter can’t get enough.

In the dark, the light by phrynne (32,203 words, rated E)

‘Potter… It’s Malfoy. Do you still want this?’ It started like that. Malfoy’s breath on his ear, his voice low, hot against his skin. Harry shivered, though he could feel the heat from Malfoy’s body just behind him, too close, but not touching him. Even if he could. For the rest of the night, he could do whatever the hell he wanted with Harry.

Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon by @drarrytrash (36,733 words, rated E)

According to Harry’s personal narrative regarding the incident, he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy for purely self-destructive reasons, or out of convenience, or by some unlucky accident. Looking at him, sprawled in the moonlight, Harry is devastated to recall that he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy because he’s hot.

Draco is a secret werewolf and Harry is doing his best and they've got criminals to catch, darn it.

Boiling Point by @goldentruth813 (42,882 words, rated M)

After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they're forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over.

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (103,395 words, rated T)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

Grounds for Divorce by @tepre (122,217 words, rated E)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

What We Pretend We Can't See by @gyzym (131,086 words, rated M)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Love forever,

The Drarry Librarian

[byizoyas]

2023/byizoyas.

EVENT DURATION: oct. 1st - oct. 31

TAGLIST: open, ask anytime to be added. + you can ask to be tagged for a specific day only, several days, or for each work of the event; as you prefer! :)

PROGRAM: tears of themis (4) ; genshin impact (20) ; honkai star rail (8)

all fics are written with a fem!reader.

fics rated E might contain triggering content. therefore please read the warning on top of the post before reading.

LEVEL 1.

DAY 01 ϟ phone sex (danheng) DAY 02 ϟ stripping (xiao) DAY 03 ϟ spanking (dainsleif) DAY 04 ϟ food play (luke) DAY 05 ϟ shower sex (thoma) DAY 06 ϟ sensory deprivation (vyn) DAY 07 ϟ face sitting (kazuha) DAY 08 ϟ hate sex (childe) DAY 09 ϟ marking (cyno) DAY 10 ϟ mutual masturbation (tighnari)

LEVEL 2.

DAY 11 ϟ public (sampo) DAY 12 ϟ dirty talk (lyney) DAY 13 ϟ virginity (gepard) DAY 14 ϟ toys (luo cha) DAY 15 ϟ mirror sex (kaveh) DAY 16 ϟ praise kink (neuvilette) DAY 17 ϟ choking (alhaitham) DAY 18 ϟ size kink (diluc) DAY 19 ϟ fem!dom (artem) DAY 20 ϟ edging + begging (nanook)

LEVEL 3.

DAY 21 ϟ aphrodisiacs (albedo) E DAY 22 ϟ daddy kink (wriothesley) DAY 23 ϟ degradation kink (scaramouche) DAY 24 ϟ teacher/student (zhongli) E DAY 25 ϟ face fucking (marius) DAY 26 ϟ bondage (pantalone) DAY 27 ϟ dacryphilia (dottore) DAY 28 ϟ overstimulation (welt) DAY 29 ϟ pegging (kaeya) DAY 30 ϟ prostitution (ayato) E

FINAL LEVEL.

DAY 31 ϟ threesome (blade + jing yuan)