#AND ABOVE ALL OUR BOYS ❤️❤️❤️

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

🎄 Under The Mistletoe 🎄

Someone in Hellfire plays matchmaker between you and Eddie ❤️ Featuring mischievous Hellfire members, pesky mistletoe and lots of fluff 🎄

Going to open my requests for a little while so if you have any holiday requests then let me know. 💌

🎄❄️

There's a very good reason. Why the holiday season is a wonderful time. For a boy and girl to fall in love.

Cause Santa and Cupid, planned exactly what you did, When you kissed me by the mistletoe above.

We stood there kissin' by the mistletoe. Tingle, tingle. Muah, muah, muah, and away we go, jingle, jingle.

Kissin' by the mistletoe, love came to stay and now it's Christmas every day.

Aretha Franklin - Kissing by the mistletoe 🎄

❄️🎄

Christmas had arrived in Hawkins. The snow was falling casting in the town in an image of a perfect winter wonderland. All Eddie had heard for the last couple of days was festive tunes and jingles, he did like Christmas but this was a bit much.

He couldn't exactly say that he had the best Christmas growing up, when his mom was around it felt special to him, she adored Christmas and Eddie loved that it made her happy.

Then he was left with just his old man and those were the worst times, Uncle Wayne was his bubble of safety and normality then and now. Thanks to uncle Wayne his love of Christmas has returned slowly.

Did that mean he wanted to be driven crazy by hiliday tunes? No. Then there was his enemy of the season. Mistletoe.

All week he had seen giggly, kissing and loved up couples, they were driving him mad. It made him grumpy and twitchy and he avoided the cursed plant like the plague.

At least when he was in the drama club and safely ensconced in all things Hellfire Club related he could relax. He had spent some time earlier setting up for the campaign and it was a good one, a mini adventure which was Christmas themed of course and very exciting.

For a few hours he could be in total DM mode and nothing mistletoe related could happen...

🎄⛄

At five o'clock on the dot Dustin arrived with Lucas and Mike, then everyone else hurried in. Eddie ignores the way his heart skips a beat when he sees you.

"Gentlemen and ladies welcome to this special edition of Hellfire, where we can enjoy the delights of our new festive themed quest and avoid the evil plants of doom... I swear If I see one more hint of mistletoe I'll..."

"Eddie" you say softly and that captures his attention as you point up to the ceiling, he stops mid-rant and his eyes bug out as he sees the mistletoe hung above him. No. Jesus H Christ, no.

The mistletoe was directly above you and Eddie.

His eyes narrow and he looks around the room immediately suspicious, Jeff and Gareth are sniggering to themselves but stop at the look on his face.

"Who did this?" he hisses to the rest of the group and looks at each of them in turn. No one is owning up to putting the mistletoe there and that frustrates him even more because that dreaded thing wasn't there at any other point of the day.

It wasn't there when he was setting up earlier, no pesky mistletoe was in sight and yet now it was just casually hanging above his head, directly above his chair. "That wasn't here earlier, so one of you little shits did this" he snaps.

He could feel himself sweating as you peered up at him, fuck. It's not like he didn't want to kiss you, he really wanted to but he highly doubted that you wanted to kiss him. Why would you?

"We don't have to do this" he says to you, he would never want you to feel pressured into kissing him. He was going to kill (the character) of whoever did this in the most violent way possible.

"Eddie" the way you say his name makes his knees turn to jelly, his usual confidence and don't give a fuck attitude is long gone and now he's terrified.

You see Eddie was totally smitten with you but didn't realise you were equally smitten with him. Which is what brings us to mischievous elves (Hellfire members) plotting this escapade.

Then your lips meet his and he swears his brain short circuits just for a second, he melts into the kiss and then he's kissing you back and you let out a soft moan that goes straight to uh...places and he wants nothing more than to just keep kissing you.

"Ugh that's enough dude, gross" Mike groans and Eddie reluctantly pulls away from you, feels pleased with himself that your lips are all kiss bitten and your eyes mirroring his in complete lust and adoration.

"About time" Gareth sags in relief, now the two of you could stop tiptoeing around your feelings for one another. Eddie sends him a death glare but completely softens when you take his hand and lean across to whisper in his ear.

"We're totally doing more of that later" your gaze is full of need and a tiny bit of mischief and it may be the first time that Eddie has ever wanted to speed run through a campaign. He couldn't wait for later but for now he had to get into DM mode.

If only you would stop looking at him like that, all impish and beautiful then he might be able to concentrate.

While he's making moon eyes at you for a few seconds Dustin, Erica, Lucas and Mike huddle together and discreetly high five.

"Mission accomplished" Dustin beams until Erica frowns and lets out an exasperated huff. "Yeah sure, like you bunch of nerds could have done this without me" Lucas is about to argue but Erica stops him.

"Nope, don't say a word dumbass. I hung the mistletoe because I'm not afraid of Munson like you three are, so this is down to me" She takes a mini bow and leaves the three boys gawking at her as Eddie finally starts the session.

🎄❄️⛄

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Steadfast 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, obsession, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: King!Bucky Barnes (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you serve Duke Rogers, but when his friend, the king, takes an interest, you find your work in turmoil.

Note: I've wanted to do medieval drabbles for years. I bit the bullet and now we're all doomed. I was torn on whether to make this one Stucky however... I think Steve deserves a wifey in his own installment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The shanks of brown hair rests between your fingers as you angle the shears. The snips is precise and careful. You work diligently, wordlessly, as the duke stares at his reflection. He’s lost in thought as you are cautious of his mindless tilts and tweaks. 

“It is looking rather better since Kennick’s butchering,” he muses. “I feared I might sport a monk’s pate anon.” 

“Your grace,” your keep your focus set, not looking up as you snip away another length of hair. 

“Not much shorter than that. Winter will be here soon enough,” Lord Rogers girds. “What of the beard? Shall I keep it for warmth as well?” 

“Your grace,” the reply rises again, a different lilt to it which says, it is upon your prerogative. 

“Hm, many other lords I’ve seen as late sport the like. As our king does,” he continues on. “Is it very common of me to do the same?” 

You draw a lock away from his face and stretch it above his forehead. Your voice does not rise as you bite the tip of your tongue with great concentration. You think of Kennick and the lashes on his palms. He is only a young boy; how could he be asked to do such a delicate task? 

A knock rattles the door. The lord’s eyes flash in his reflection as you peek at the mirror. There isn’t alarm, only attention. He flicks his fingers. 

“Please, pip, see to it,” he commands. 

You lay down the shears and leave him. You go to the door and draw it open. It pushes from the other side and you stumble back behind it. You nearly fold completely as you recognise the bearing of the broad shoulders. It is hardly a surprise for the king to appear, only that you forgot yourself in the calm of the previous moment. 

You keep your knees bent and head down as King Bucky strides towards the duke at his looking glass. You gently close the door as the liege receives barely a glance from the man at ease on his cushioned chair. He huffs and tugs his ear. 

“Is that how you receive your king?” King Bucky taunts as Rogers swats away his hand. 

“I wouldn’t want to make a mess,” the duke retorts and gestures again, “pip, it is still uneven.” 

You set your chin and return to the vanity table. You pick up the shears and nod your head, “your highness.” 

The king does not answer and he leans on the other corner of the table. He crosses his arms, the deep blue leather of his jacket straining. The duke tufts his chin again, paying heed to the patch of silver there. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your recent bout of baldness,” the king mocks. “Your head is much too lumpy for it.” 

“Have you come only to jeer me?” Rogers asks dully. 

You measure another shank and trim carefully. Often, you’ve done similar for your fellow servants. Usually with duller blades or a razor to the scalp. The duke usually only requires a tray or a flagon of you. The request was unexpected but undeniable. 

“Forgive me for disturbing you and your barber. I’ve a fine man from Rivard who sees to my own. A gold coin would’ve brought him to your stead,” the king suggests. 

“A waste of good coin,” Rogers sniffs. “Looking at you, I’d never assume any barber saw to that nest.” 

The king takes affront and smooths his dark tresses, a subtle wave near the bottom of his strands as they frame his chin. “Eh, you speak treasonous words. To insult a king’s hair is next to blasphemy, duke.” 

“Shall I take the cattails in hand?” Rogers counters. 

King Bucky chortles, “if I didn’t fear you’d aim them at my hide, I’d agree to it.” 

You peek up at the noise of his laughter. You’ve not heard it often from the king, not that you are often in his presence. He seems of a bright disposition that day. Even so, you flinch as your eyes snag on his. You quickly put your mind to the shears.  

“Mm, and what has brought on your good mood?” 

“Why shouldn’t I be in fine spirits?” 

“I ask why you should,” Rogers, turns his head and you recoil. A dusting of hair falls from the towel around his shoulders. 

“I should ask why you seem rather the opposite,” the king mutters. 

“I am not... unhappy. Pensive,” Rogers admits. “You’ve heard from Stark.” 

“Aye, whoever doesn’t hear him when he opens his mouth?” 

“Hm, I would think a rasher response of you,” Rogers intones as he turns to the mirror again and you comb your fingers from his hairline to his crown to compare. The king shifts as you sense his observation of your reflection. 

“Isn’t it what he intends? What good is it to feed his pride? If he should like to put on this display, then he shall make himself a fool. I’ll be all the more pleased for it to be at my hand.” 

“You don’t think it is some ploy?” 

“Of course it is? A tournament of kings? For what purpose but to put to mind the matter of war? To suggest that should we not play nice, a horse and shield might be appropriate.” 

You shift around to the back of the duke’s head, the king leans in. His movement draws your gaze and you find him watching your hands. It makes them more prudent. 

“I would not speak it into this plain, but do you not worry for his machinations? At any tourney, there are those who might take a deathly blow, or slip beneath their steed’s hooves--” 

“When did you grow so cautious? I can lift a sword and sit a horse--” 

“Should either be sabotaged? Should your plate be poisoned at the feast--” 

“Is there something you are aware of that I should be?” The king challenges. 

“Only that he is his father’s heir, in many ways,” Rogers harrumphs. 

“You think I should fear a dagger up a sleeve when you’ve a servant with two so near your eye?” 

You pause and the duke tuts, “keep on, pip,” Rogers orders as he waves off the king’s devious suggestion. 

“Ah, gentle hands, I see, forgive the poor humour,” he unfolds his arms and grips the edge of the table as he leans. “Rogers, you will be close. Vigilant as ever.” 

The duke sighs, “the winter nears.” 

“Is that it? You never liked the cold, I should’ve guessed it.” 

“I can bear the cold, but travel would be arduous.” 

“You would wait for the spring?” 

“Perhaps,” the duke slides a ring to the tip of his finger and spins it. “And Thor? Has he sent his agreement to this Field of Silk?” 

“I was to ask you the same. I presumed with how you get on, he might prefer you as his messenger,” the king says. “Very well, I will think on your concern.” He clucks and stands, moving closer as he watches you with intent. “I am surprised, I thought you would be most eager for a tournament. You were the Knight of the Lilies for years anon.” 

“A time ago,” Rogers rebuffs. 

“And time is still left,” King Bucky reaches again to tweak his ear, “I know they are rather big, but try not to snip them off, eh?” He japes as Rogers tilts away from his touch with a growl. “I shall leave you to your grooming, though perhaps next time you should just call the stabler.”  

The king strides away as the duke pushes his ring to his knuckle. The shears continue to snip noisily in the silence. The door announces the king’s departure with a sonorous echo. 

“My luggage will need prepared,” Rogers resigns. 

[sweetiecutie]

Ok ok listen-

teacher!valeria x student!reader🫶🫶

(I imagen her and us having "study sessions" she calls us in her classroom to talk about our grades or she calls us in her classroom so she can "help" us with something that we didnt understand 😻😻and could reader be a fem?. if u dont want to do this is ok!!🫶❤️)

Pairing: Valeria Garza x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, university AU!, professor/student trope, age gap implied

A/n: this is literally so sexy, I’m about to cream my fucking pants😩

Okay, so this is a university au, in which Valeria is one of the professors. I have a feeling that she would be teaching something hard and complicated - let’s say math.

Professor Garza is very strict. She’s one of the people who value discipline and order over anything else, punishing everyone who dares disturbing it. Valeria wouldn’t think twice before giving out detentions and extra work for behavior she deems unacceptable within auditorium. Chatting during her lectures? - detention. Forgetting to do homework she gave? - detention and double the amount of exercises you had to be handed over to her due to 3 pm the next day.

Many students fear Miss Garza, many hate her, many like her; but every single one has some sort of respect for her cold and stoic demeanor. Valeria is strict and demanding , but she’s also one of the bestest - many students wish to be teached by her.

And even if it seems nearly impossible, Valeria does have favorites. Very few - 3-4 students in whole university, but boy are they privileged.

Valeria values conformity over anything else. She prefers students that are polite and well-behaved, never causing any commotion or fuss. And you happened to be just that - miss goody two shoes, one of the bestest in your year, never once failing ho hand in whatever assignment Valeria gave you, no matter how complicated or cumbersome the work was.

Garza quickly caught onto your skills, and by the end of first year she already valued you over the rest of your group. Not only the brilliance of your mind, which was capable of so many amazing thing, drew her in; you’re quite a sight for sore eye as well - clothes always neat and ironed, hair framing your pretty face perfectly no matter what, light makeup only highlighting your natural beauty. Valeria couldn’t help her eyes lingering on your soft thighs whenever you decided on wearing a skirt or a dress to uni, flooding her head with images of these exact thighs spread wide before her.

It was quite a challenge for Valeria to find any mistakes in your works. You were a smart little girl, she had no doubts about it at that point. But every time, with extreme effort, professor Garza managed to find all the little flaws in your works. They did seem ridiculous tho, something other math professors wouldn’t even deem as a mistake. So first time this happened you came up to the older woman, asking about your strangely low grade; and Valeria, voice softer with feigned sympathy, patiently explained why she had to grade you so lowly. “I hope you do better next time, hm?” She’d say with a small smile, dismissing you from her classroom. Oh how the sight of your pouting lips and teary eyes got her off

As semester drew nearer to its end your works didn’t seem to improve even a slightest bit. At this point you were convinced that it was something personal - that professor Garza simply disliked you (oh if only you knew). So it was a surprise when Valeria called out for you to stay behind as everyone was leaving after the end of her lecture. You obediently descended the stairs of high auditorium, coming to her desk, standing there patiently as all the students left.

Once alone in the room, Valeria turned to face you, one hip leaning onto the edge of her working desk. Her dark eyes gazed at you from above thin lenses of her reading glasses, arms crossed over her chest making her tits perk up teasingly from within two unmade buttons of her white blouse.

“Y/n, I wanted to talk to you about your grades” she said, her voice sounding a bit softer than usual - voice she used on you only. Your body tensed slightly at her words, your fingers gripping your books more tightly as you looked at her tentatively.

“I made a small research on your academic performance and it seems that you only struggle with my subject. Is there any particular reason to this?” She asked, concern lacing her words.

You bit your tongue, fighting back bitter words of indignation - it was Valeria’s fault only that your grades in math were so low. But you kept silent, gazing dully onto the floor under your feet. Professor Garza heaved a heavy sigh, her heart thrumming loudly within her chest at what she was about to do.

“Y/n, you’re a very smart girl, and I don’t want you to ruin your record because of arithmetics. I can give you some extra credit” she said calmly, your ears perking up at her words.

You looked up at the older woman, obviously surprised - Valeria never gave extra credit, no matter the circumstances. You blinked rapidly a few times - you won’t lose such an opportunity, you’d be a fool if you did.

“Sure, I’d be very grateful!” You said quickly, looking at Valeria with wide eager eyes.

She only smiled at your words, nodding for you to come closer. As you did, she took your books and notes out of your hands, placing them on the faraway side of her desk. “You won’t need these”

As you were going to ask what she meant her warm hand clasped around the back of your neck, slamming you against her desk. With a small squeak you were bent over the table, your cheek squished against some papers scattered on top of it. You felt Valeria’s hot chest pressing against your back, her free hand glided up and down the side of your hip as she whispered into your ear “Now I need you to be a good little girl and spread your legs wider”

And you did. Arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach, making your knees go weak as Valeria’s hand slipped in between your soft thighs - just like she always dreamed of, massaging your soft pussy through thin material of your panties.

Soon enough these same panties were shoved into your mouth to muffle all desperate cries tearing through your chest as to not disturb other professors in nearby auditoriums; three of Valeria’s long fingers fucked in and out of your drooling pussy with loud squelching sounds, her fingertips grazing that one spot deep within you, making your eyes roll and toes curl.

You exited professor Garza’s auditorium on trembling legs, your makeup and hair unnaturally messy, eyes unfocused and bleary but - most importantly - with impeccable record on arithmetics.

But to keep your math performance this way, you had to visit professor Garza some more for extracurricular activities <3

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Writers live off feedback, give us some love<3

[gyll-yee-haw]

Hi Maria!! I hope you’re doing well ❤️❤️

Do you mind writing Donnie and reader’s first time? He’d be so patient and careful with his girl the whole time, that if she ended up crying halfway through because of how good it felt, he’d be horrified that he hurt her somehow 😭 just something sweet for that poor man

Yes yes yes my poor sad boy deserves the world :(

Warnings: I was too horny writing this, so I went straight to the point, sorry. Loss of virginity, implied unprotected sex, p in v, Donnie being so subbie and cute and unable to not cum too soon :(, masturbation (f and mentions of m)

Like 1.3k words

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It was a brand new feeling. And you couldn't believe how fucking incredible it was... with every movement of his cock scratching that special spot just right... sending waves of pleasure through your whole body... and then you'd look up and see the prettiest boy who's ever lived, right above you. Eyes so big, so blue, so curious, a little crinkle of worry on his forehead.

Oh my god, is she enjoying this? - was all he could think of.

He was so nervous. And it didn't help at all that your expression was so hard to read.

Still, he was just discovering what pussy drunk meant, cause he was getting the same waves of pleasure as you... and he couldn't stop.

He had been holding himself back, until he couldn't anymore. He left out a loud and pathetic moan. The hottest fucking thing you ever heard. Your pussy automatically clenched around his length.

"Oh my god" You whined, tears escaping your eyes.

Oh no. Oh shit. You were so fucking tight around him... but you were... crying?

"Baby... sorry... shit" He tried to pull out, but you held him in his place, wrapping arms and legs around him.

"Donnie, please..." You begged, tears falling on the pillow under your head.

"I'm hurting you!" He protested, stopping his thrusts immediately. His cock throbbed inside you in need, making him feel like crying.

"You're not hurting me!" You tried to buck your hips, but he was too close and you were holding him too tight to allow that.

"Then why are you crying?" The crinkle on his forehead grew.

"Cause it feels so fucking good..." You sighed. "Love your cock, Donnie..."

"Oh shit, doll, don't do this to me..." His cock throbbed uncontrollably inside you.

"Love it when it does that..." You smiled, biting your lip.

"Y/N, I'm serious..." He closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the look on your face on that moment, otherwise the fun would be over too soon...

"Donnie, can we continue?" You asked, nails running up and down his back.

"Give me a sec." His face turned red.

"You're not hurting me, Don, I swear..." You insisted.

"Can't move." He whispered.

"Why?" You asked frustratedly.

"Cause you're squeezing me way too good." He admitted, face visibly burning.

"Oh..." You couldn't help but chuckle.

"Not fucking funny." He sighed. "Just wanted to please you. Such a shitty boyfriend..."

"Donnie, baby..." You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. "Need you to move... want you to cum so good for me..."

"But..."

"Come on, Donnie... I wanna see you cum... please?" You grabbed the hair on the back of his head, gently tugging on it. "Swear it's gonna make me feel so good..."

"You're supposed to do that first." He groaned, clearly mad at himself.

"Supposed to? There's no right and wrong. It's our first time." You assured him. "Do it for me, please? I'll let you do whatever you want to me afterwards, yeah? Promise it won't be over."

There was a new sparkle in his eyes after hearing that. He couldn't believe that he would get to play with your gorgeous body like he always dreamt of...

"Hmm... can I... hmm..." He got shy again, thinking of the possibilities. "Can I cum on your tits?"

"Fuck, Donnie..." You moaned. "Do it for me, baby, let me see you."

He removed himself from you and it was almost painful for both of you. But you didn't have much time to think. You got on your knees on the bed, watching Donnie stroke his cock. It was so hard... the tip as red as his cheeks, leaking something you couldn't wait to taste someday.

"Shit..." He moaned, desperation on his face. "I'm gonna cum..."

"Cum for me, Donnie..." You begged, just as desperate as him. "Cum all over my tits..."

He left out the hottest sounds you had ever heard as he painted your tits white. And your chin. And belly. He made an inexperienced mess... couldn't help it... he had never been this turned on his his life, his aim wouldn't be good.

"That was so fucking hot, Donnie..." you smiled, watching him fight for his life. You wondered if he would ever be able to stop blushing.

"Hm... everytime I... hmm..." He tried to talk, but was very distracted by the way your hand slided all the way to your pussy, starting to rub yourself.

"Keep talking." You said, eyes focused on his face.

"Everytime I... jerk off I... picture myself coming on your tits." He admitted. "Specially since you... uh... showed me them, the other day."

"Yeah?" You smirked, spreading your legs wider. "Was reality better than you imagined?"

He nodded eagerly. Your fingers started rubbing your clit faster and you left out a moan.

"I'm so sorry I didn't satisfy you..." He was still very disappointed. "I just... wanted our first time to be perfect."

"Shh... come here, baby boy." You chuckled. "Wanna touch me?"

It was stupid to be this excited about this, when he had literally just been inside you... but he didn't even care at this point. He kept his eyes glued to your face as he rubbed all the wrong spots. You had to direct his fingers to your clit. And when he got a reaction from you, indicating he was doing good... oh god.

"Ouch!" Your hips bucked. "Slower, Don... nice and slow..."

"M'sorry..." His eyes widened.

"It's okay, baby... just like that..." You praised. "It... it feels so good..."

"Yeah?" He asked proudly. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please, Don..." You smiled.

The way you looked at each other before the kiss... you both knew. That was the moment you threw all the worries out of the window. Fuck a perfect first time. You were having fun, discovering each other's bodies. When he kissed you, it was so romantic. So intimate. So good... so good.

"Hm... Donnie..." You moaned against his lips. "You're gonna make me cum like this..."

"Please... please, I really want you to..." He crashed his lips against your again, rubbing you incredibly right.

It felt so new... having someone else's fingers making you cum. God, Donnie's fingers... that thought alone could drive you crazy.

More tears escaped your eyes as you reached your peak, but they didn't scare him anymore. They amazed him. He wouldn't get used to this any time soon...

"Stop, stop, stop!" You pushed his hand away, way too overstimulated when it all ended.

"Sorry!" He gasped.

"It's okay, Don." You smiled, feeling like you were floating. "Just felt too good."

"Did you, really?" He asked, with that beautiful smile of his.

"Hell yeah." You laid on your back, letting out a sigh of relief. "This was perfect."

"It... it was, wasn't it?" He smiled, laying beside you.

Donnie became such a clingy little boyfriend after that. And I don't mean only during that post orgasmic bliss... I mean, that boy won't leave you alone for days. Weeks. He's addicted to you. He wants to try everything he always dreamt of. He wants to try everything he's never heard of.

He wants to try everything with you.

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝙰𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚘 - 𝙰𝙱𝙾 𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

ft Shino’s insects; ft claiming|mating, oviposition

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own Naruto or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

WC: 3,598

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Includes Omegaverse, Oviposition, sexual acts directly involving insects(insects go inside you), cervix fucking/breaching, No Use of Y/n, 2nd Person POV, obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)

𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: BUG BOIS ARE HEREEEE 😖😖😖❤️❤️❤️❤️ Gonna be honest I was expecting this to be a LOT longer,,, Y’all can pry Aburame Oviposition out of my cold dead hands. You know fuckin what? Just for our beloved Bug Bois, I’m gonna try single dick Oviposition. I’m not super used to it but I’m gonna try my damndest to make it work for our Bois. I swear to you, I’m gonna write it and i’m gonna write it good! No knotting in this one, even tho it’s ABO, sorry luvs!

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

You hummed happily as you went around the market and got everything you’d need to make dinner tonight. Your mate’s old teammates and their mates would be coming to his house for a reunion dinner and you happily offered to make a home-cooked meal. Leaning over a bit to look at the carrots in the stall with baskets of cauliflower in front, you jumped a bit when you felt hands on your hips but you calmed when you heard his low purr. It was a sound you could never forget or ever get tired of. Standing back up, you leaned back into your mate’s chest.

“You startled me,” you chucked, happily resting against him as his arms slid around your waist.

“Apologies, lovebug,” Shino muttered into your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Not that I’m complaining- Kami knows I’m not- but what’s up with you today?” You giggled out, “You’re never usually this into PDA, Shino.” You let out a purr of your own as you nuzzled into his embrace.

“Mmm.. Don’t wanna be without you, lovebug.” He responded, shifting his head to lay pleasant kisses on your neck. The intimacy surprised you, he usually saved this sort of affection solely for the bedroom. That being said, it triggered a kind of Pavlovian Response, needing to clamp your thighs together at the sudden wetness between your legs.

“Well, I won’t be long, love, don’t worry.” You chuckled, “I only need a couple more ingredients.” You rubbed against his head where it lay in the crook of your neck and went to move, only for him to not let you go, “Shino,” you giggled out at his sudden clinginess, “I need to finish shopping if I’m gonna make dinner for everyone.” He groaned a bit but reluctantly let you go nonetheless. He trailed close behind you and laid a hand on your waist every time you stopped at a new stall.

Soon, after you’d stopped at 3 stalls, each time Shino’s hand having found its place firmly around your waist, you felt something tickling your skin just above the waistline of your pants. Then you felt the something wiggling its way under the waistline and into your pants. You squirmed a bit at the feeling but didn’t want to make a scene in public.

Your eyes widened when the something, that you had figured by then was Shino’s insects— his beetles specifically by the feeling of the carapaces, crawled their way down between your legs. They crawled around your mound and made their way to your folds. You gasped and almost stumbled when you clamped your thighs together.

“Sh-Shino.. What- fuck- what are you doing?” Your voice trembled as he came up behind you to steady your shaking form. His arms made their way around your waist to hold you against him, making you feel his bulge.

“It’s Spring, my little lovebug. You know what that means, yes? The season of rebirth and rejuvenation. And you know what that means for animals? And insects?” His lust-heavy voice rumbled in your ear as his beetles continued to squirm through your wet fold and even managed to form a pulsating grip on your clit while his hips ground into yours. You whined at the feeling of stimulation and the squirming in your pussy.

“Fuck- yes- yes, I know what it me-e-eanssss..!” You felt one of his beetles bite the sensitive flesh of your labia and inject some kind of venom into you. You knew that he would never let any of his poisonous insects bite you so you weren’t worried about your safety but you did wonder what sort of venom just entered your bloodstream. Your answer was quickly given when you felt a rush of arousal flood your nether regions and a fire light in your lower belly.

The sudden gush of slick didn’t deter the beetles in the slightest— a fact that caused you to realize that Shino had specifically brought along his beetles perfectly suited for what he apparently had planned— as they continued to crawl and squirm through your folds and stimulate your pussy. In fact, it almost seemed to spur them on when you felt a few of them move through your pussy lips with a purpose, all headed straight for your entrance. That realization caused a dual reaction in you, it excited you more than you thought it would, sending a rush of arousal up your spine with a shiver, as well as scared you as neither of you had even brought up the subject of using his insects during your intimate times before. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it quite a few times when you could feel the insects moving around under his skin as he rutted into you relentlessly and when he would fuck you gently or lazily like in the mornings.

You’d had fantasies about it before and now you were feeling the reality as his beetles probed your entrance. Shino’s hands suddenly gripped your hips tightly as he ground his hard cock against you through both of your clothes, increasing your pleasure with the added friction and promise. You tried to conceal your moans with a hand lifted over your mouth, but your flustered and shaky appearance was likely enough for anyone that looked over to know what was happening.

Apparently, your assumption was exactly right as people stopped at stalls to try— and fail— to inconspicuously stare at you and your mate. The attention didn’t deter you, though, if anything it spurred you on, made pride swell in your chest that people would see Shino claim you, show off that you belong to him the same way he belongs to you. And with the amount of Omegas ogling your Alpha, possessiveness grew in your chest as well, wanting to show them that he’s not on the market and he’s all yours. You bared your neck to him with the dual intent to submit to your Alpha and to show off the bond mark scarred over your scent gland. The show of submission clearly pleased your Alpha as was evident in the renewed eagerness of the insects squirming inside you and the jolt of his dick pressed against your backside.

He couldn’t take it anymore and pushed you up against the closest surface— a countertop of the stall you were looking at— and tugged your trousers down below your ass and settled them around your knees. Hunched over you, his warm chest pressed into your back, he muttered quiet praises as he ground his needy cock against your slick heat.

“So good for me, ‘Mega. So good for your Alpha.” He growled out in a low tone before he pressed forward. His swollen, slightly coned tip, dripping with precum, pressed into your awaiting heat and the stretch it provided as he slid inside was like nothing else. The ridges slid along your walls as he pushed in and your eyes rolled back at the sensations. The features specific to his clan that you were always thankful for when you felt the textures of his ovipositor. His tip was more cone-shaped and it started a line of flared ridges down the underside of his length. Like what baffled most teenage boys about the female body, there were two holes. One for depositing the squishy eggs that would hatch inside your womb, and one for his hot cum that would fertilize them and any eggs that your own body deposited into your fertile and awaiting womb.

His insects were only pushed further in with the assistance of his cock, pushing them all the way inside your cunt, meeting the squishy wall at the end of your canal. That didn’t stop them, though. They apparently had farther to go as they kept squirming inside you until they met the entrance of your cervix. His cock sliding into you already had your eyes rolling back but the sensation of his insects squirming against your sensitive walls and wiggling their way into your cervix had your back arching and your toes curling. You were just seconds away from orgasm and Shino’s dick meeting the back wall of your cunt pushed you over the edge. Each ridge stroked your insides in ways no one could ever replicate and it had you seeing stars as your body shook and a whorish moan barely concealed behind your shaking hand.

“Let me hear you, Lovebug.” Shino purred in your ear as he pressed his hips flush to yours, his slightly coned tip prodding your cervix, chasing his insects, “Let them all hear how good your Alpha is making you feel.” He wasn’t in rut, that was still a couple weeks away, but the springtime always unlocked this part of him— though it was usually more manageable— the constant urge to breed and make you his laying ground. Oh, boy, his ruts during the springtime were always something to behold and if this year the springtime was affecting him enough to indulge like this, you were very excited for his upcoming rut. He didn’t even need to use his Alpha Voice, the low salacious growl in his voice was enough to have your hand shooting away from your mouth and releasing the needy whine that had built up.

As if the noise was some sort of signal, he immediately began moving his hips. He pulled out until barely a few inches were left inside before he slammed himself back in. A wanton moan was punched from your throat and a rhythm of them matched the rhythm of his hips meeting yours. The ridges on his ovipositor throbbed and pressed into that spongy spot inside you that had your toes curling and your hands shooting out to grab the edge of the stall you were bent over. That rope in your lower belly began to pull tighter as Shino thrust into you again and again. His dual-purpose dick dragged delectably against your inner walls, the gently tapered head pressed slightly into your cervix each time he bottomed out, each time beginning to lightly coax it open.

“Can you feel it, Lovebug? Can you feel my insects inside you laying their eggs, just waiting to hatch? Gonna make you even more pregnant, fill you up with even more babies, more larvae than just ours.” You couldn’t, you couldn’t feel any of them, but just the idea of it was enough to exaggerate your pleasure— especially with Shino’s voice as husky and rough as it was in your ear. All you could feel was his hips pistoning inside you, his textured cock dragging exquisitely against your walls, the ridges of his ovipositor were just begging you to cum, to release the taut tension in your lower belly.

The shaft coaxed and begged for your orgasm as it bullied against your cervix, pressing into it with each thrust that forced the tip further and further inside you. The long shaft begged to chase after the beetles that had already wiggled their way past your cervix, into your fertile womb. The beetles that were laying eggs inside you. The beetles that were adding to the count of young that would be implanted in your womb. The beetles that were using you as their personal breeding ground.

At that moment it was all too much and the pressure snapped. Your thighs shook and your grip tightened, turning your knuckles white, and a long, loud moan flowed from your lax lips while your cunt spasmed around your mate’s length, slick gushing around him as you came. Your Alpha’s grip on your hips tightened and his pace slightly stuttered as he continued to pound into you.

“That’s it, Lovebug! Cum around my cock and let me stuff you full! Gonna be such a good mama. Gonna look so pretty with my eggs inside you.” His voice at first was strained from the exertion and pleasure of fucking you through your orgasm while your pussy clenched around him but it soon turned into a possessive growl as he hunched over you. He was nearing his end and you could tell, you were excited for him to finally breed you. The base of his cock began to swell a bit as he slammed his hips flush to yours and stopped his thrusting all together. His tapered tip nudged its way into your cervix, coaxing it open for entry. The feeling of his cock head nestled firmly in your cervix, opening you up and gushing precum into the quivering entrance had a new surge of climax rush through your body before the previous one was even finished.

“Please, Alpha! Wan’ your cum, wan’ your babies..!” Your voice shook with lust and near overstimulation. You knew you sounded like a wanton whore in heat but you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling from your lips. A pleased rumble vibrated through his chest against your back and he ground his hips against yours, pushing his tip just slightly further into your cervix as the swell at the base of his cock pressed against your entrance. The object seemed to hesitate for a moment and you wondered why, about to speak up, until you felt squirming inside your pussy again. You felt the insects that were inside your womb wiggle their way back out your cervix until you felt them wiggle and worm and squirm their way all the way out of your squishy, slick canal. Their little bodies sent ripples of pleasure through you and right as they were reaching the end they were pushed out by another gush of arousal. A shaky moan echoed into the stagnant air, all motion around you both seemed to have stopped as the rest of the shoppers and stall runners stopped to watch. Murmured judgements flowed around you, mixing with the hushed voices of envy, jealousy, and arousal. You didn’t care about any of it, they could all gawk and gossip as much as they pleased so long as it didn’t interfere with your Mate breeding the fuck out of your quivering cunt.

Even though you hadn’t spoken a single word, Shino seemed to reflect your sentiments as he huffed in annoyed dismissal and hugged your frame closer, trying to press his hips even closer even if it wasn’t possible. The object that swelled his cock finally pressed inside and stretched the taut hole of your pussy further as it passed through. It traveled up his cock until it reached the tip. The ridges of the underside of his cock each pressed into your gummy walls as they flared out with the object and made your body relax further with the all-encompassing ecstasy. Shino kissed your neck, nipped at your bond mark, and nosed at your temple to silently reassure and encourage you just before the object—the Egg— began to press forth through his tip and past your cervix. The stretch was uncomfortable at first and you flinched slightly, a small whimper escaping which was immediately soothed with calming pheromones and whispered praises with sweet kisses on your jaw. Soon enough, the relatively small egg slipped through, into your womb and you felt it ‘plop’ into place with the egg clusters already inside you. A soft moan left you as your body relaxed again, thankful for the pleasure that rewarded the moment of discomfort.

“Doing so good, Lovebug. Gonna take all my eggs and keep ‘em nice and warm while they grow.” Shino purred in your ear as his cock began to swell with another. He had told you about the process before, he would deposit multiple eggs inside your womb and cum inside you once they were all in place to fertilize as many as would take. Usually, only 1 or 2, occasionally 3, would take and the rest would simply become nutrients for both your body and the fertilized eggs. You preened at the praise and your body shivered with it and the feeling of another egg traveling up through your canal and into your womb. The eggs were squishy so it was easy to take them, though the first few were a bit uncomfortable with the way they had to squeeze through your cervix. The flared ridges pulsed with each egg that passed through his ovipositor and it wracked your body with trembles of pleasure. Your Alpha continued to whisper and mutter praises and encouragements as he lightly ground his hips against yours as he bred you. Finally, after 7 eggs total and 3 orgasms, he slowly slid his hips away from yours. His pelvis and happy trail were soaked with your juices that dripped down his balls and thighs, soaking his pants and he loved it, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He loved the feeling of his little Omega’s cum drenching him, even better when it was drenching his mouth and chin, dripping down his neck, and soaking his chest after he got done eating you out for hours on end. With a satisfied rumble and smirk, he pushed back in with an excited rhythm. A small wave of murmurs resurfaced in the crowd, they had seemingly thought he was finished and were surprised at the resurgence. High-pitched moans were forced out of you with the force of his thrusts and the overstimulation that made your pussy flutter and clench around him with every movement.

“A-A-lpha-a-a!” Your voice took a bouncing, rhythmic attribute with how his thrusts forced the air out of your lungs each time he slammed in, “Shi-i-i-no-o! So-o go-o-o-od!” You wanted to say more but your ability to think was quickly fleeting as well you were worried you might bite your tongue with the way your whole body bounced and jerked with each slam of his hips into yours. His hands gripped your hips tightly in an iron grasp as he pulled you back to meet his each and every thrust. You cried out with another orgasm, this one bordering on painful with too much stimulation already having wreaked havoc on your senses. It must have leaked into your scent since Shino cooed down at you, both an implication of promised comfort and care once you were nice and thoroughly bred and an encouragement that you can take it, Omega, like the good little Omega you are for me. Your pussy quivered around him and that was enough to jolt him further towards his release.

With a possessive growl, he hunched his body over yours with an extra powerful thrust as his seed burst from his cock and flooded your cunt. He pressed his tip flush to your cervix once again and shot bursts of hot cum directly into your womb. Each rope of cum covered the eggs further and fertilized as many as it could. The warmth that encompassed your being, starting from where you were connected with your mate, made your toes curl, your nails dig into the wood of the stall, your eyes roll back, and a slutty moan erupt from your throat. Your head lolled to the side on instinct, baring your scent gland to your Alpha in submission and letting more of your scent leak into the air. Your scent was filled with satisfaction, lust, arousal, and the joy of being bred so well and thoroughly. Your body trembled with the aftershocks of your multiple orgasms— you’d lost count after the third one— and the pleasurable heat pooling in your belly from Shino’s hot cum.

“Such a good girl. Good Omega. Did such a good job.” Your mate cooed into your ear with a rumble in his chest that had you preening with pride. Your pleased state was only slightly dampened through the haze when you heard the mutters around you from the crowd you had forgotten about.

“Did they really have to do that in public?”

“What if there had been children present? It’s an adults-only day, but still!”

“Did you hear what he was saying, he was talking about eggs! What kind of Alpha lays eggs?”

“Right? Sure, he’s attractive and would probably provide, but if he’s going to lay eggs instead of knotting, no thank you!”

You let out a faint, weak growl at the degradation aimed at your mate and prepared to say something back to the ignorant Betas and pathetic excuses for Omegas but Shino placed a calming kiss to your cheek and nosed at your temple.

“Don’t do it, Lovebug, it’s not worth it. They don’t matter. Remember? It’s just us, no one else knows us the way we know each other.” He recited one of the vows you two had spoken at your Bonding Ceremony and it made you take a breath. With a placated smile, you lightly nodded. One good thing about this time of year and these urges, as he had told you and now you’ve experienced, is that when he utilizes his Ovipositor, he doesn’t knot. He does when he goes into regular rut, but luckily here, while he’s got you bent over in public, he can slip right out as needed. He still needed to replace your panties and trousers in order to keep his thick cum from leaking out, but that just filled him with a new wave of possessiveness and lust for you, knowing that you’d be walking about with his cum stuffed inside you, his eggs laying heavy in your womb ready to be incubated and nurtured.

He was going to love taking care of you while you carried his larvae.

Maybe once they arrived, you’d carry his pups, too.

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

Crossed out if I can’t tag you for some reason!

@frosch-thefrog @hellsingalucard18

[weediee]

All so oblivious

HUMAN ALASTOR X FEM WIFE!READER (She/Her pronouns)

Summary: Y/N has a neighbourhood friend over, Margaret. A regular talk with some tea and cakes quickly turned into a much more sinister and bruting talk.

E/N: Thank you all for the support in the last one, really, I am so grateful. I'm very glad you all enjoy my writing - I will continue to keep everyone updated! ❤️

Trigger warnings: This story contains talk of murder, blood, and abuse and is not suitable for young audiences. Please let me know if I missed anything!

"You know, it really is unfortunate. So many young people, innocent people, suddenly going missing." Margaret said solemnly. I was standing in the kitchen, cutting an apple Danish I had made for Margaret and as I hummed quietly in response, not paying much mind to her theatrics.

"I mean, what person could go and do such heinous things to such lovely people with long lives ahead of them." She pinched the space between her brows.

I paused, the knife in my hand scraping gently across the board as it came to a halt. "It's surprising you think all these people are innocent, Marg. We really don't know." I mumbled softly.

"Innocent or not, nobody deserves to die. Especially all those young boys." Marg scoffed at my response. She had always been this way, devils advocate. It was one of the few reasons that over the years I'd begun growing a dislike for Margaret. She was too sympathetic for the wrong people.

"Those 'young boys' with 'promising futures' were nothing but abusers! Every last one of them." I spat aggressively before composing myself. "Each of them had no right wandering our streets."

Margaret's voice quickly halted, one of the rare occasions she kept quiet.

"You're disgusting." She growled, I could hear her glass being placed on my table and the sound of the wooden floors creaked as she stood up to her feet.

"Why are you so against these people being alive. It's almost as if you have something to do with this all you know?" She added onto her statement.

"Me? knowing something you all don't?" I let go of the knife, turning to face her as I leaned against the kitchen countertop. "Margaret you're being silly. You must really go home, you're probably having post partum delusions again-" I was about to step forward before she stopped me.

"Don't come near me! You had something to do with this didn't you. I've been trying to tell everybody you and Alastor are too perfect for your own good, nobody listens to me. You're sick." She yelled.

"I'm not sick, Margaret. You are the one spitting nonsense!" I screamed back, my voice raising ever so slightly above hers. "How dare you come into my home and accuse me of these crimes." I shook my head in disappointment.

I moved my hand behind me, grabbing the knife slowly. "I will hand it to you though, you are correct." I shrugged.

"W-what?" She asked softly, hands dropping to her sides and clenching into fists.

"I know, Marg. It's a shame... I really did like you, but you've always been so loud mouthed. So nosy, always in somebody else's business when it's not yours to be concerned about. Me and Al can't have that. We have a reputation to uphold." I smiled softly.

"I mean, what would the papers say if they found out?" I laughed softly.

"You're a psychotic bitch! You know that." She screamed.

I hummed, nodding my head. I glared Marg up and down, tears could be seen falling from her eyes as they formed over a glossy shine.

"Before you die, I'm going to tear that tongue out of your mouth so you never speak about me or my husband again." My smile quickly dropped into a flat line.

I was as she quickly attempted to scramble to the front door, which was unsuccessful as she tripped on the rug. I quickly ran over, flipping her in her back to look up at me.

I smiled, pulling the knife atop my head with my hands before plunging it into her chest repeatedly. Once, twice, a fourth time, a fifth, as far as twenty before I stopped counting. There Margaret laid, in a pool of what looked like melted rubies. I stood up, leaving her in her final resting spot as I carried on with my day.

Cutting the Danish, doing the laundry, pouring Alastor his whiskey for when he got home. He could deal with Margaret when he arrived, but the whole time I finished up my jobs - the only thing on my mind was "They're all so oblivious."

E/N: How do we like this one? Yay or nay? Feel free to be honest (and feel free to send ideas)

Reminder to have a dandy day everyone!

- Weedie 🌹

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Exclusively My Idiot

Summary: You know Dean can be an idiot, but could he ever be your idiot exclusively?

Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (You)

Warnings: None really. Just some kissing/making out and some jealousy. Also fluff.

Word Count: 1,231

A/N: This is my first gif drabble for my 2K followers celebration! The gif shown in the title card above came from this gif request from @jackles010378 . Thanks so much for sending this fun gif, of our charming, sexy boy!

This will also fill the square, "I hate how much you acting like an idiot makes me want to make out with you.", for my @jacklesversebingo 2024 card.

Hope you enjoy! ❤️

Your blood was boiling as you watched The Woman putting her hands all over Dean. Well, all over his bicep anyway. She just kept touching him, laughing at everything he was saying.

He’s not that funny, sweetie. You thought to yourself.

You and Dean had been on this case for nearly a week and you’d questioned this woman three times now. Well, Dean questioned her. You'd offered to do it this time, but Dean had just smiled at you. 

“N’ah, I got it sweetheart. She’s obviously into me, so I can keep her busy while you search her hard drive for any information on what's-his-name.” He shrugged. “You’re better at all that computer bullshit anyway. So you do what you do, and I’ll do what I do.” 

He’d given you a wink and a smile that made you nearly melt into the floor. But you played it off, rolling your eyes and spinning on your heel to get away from Dean’s effortless charisma.

Now, standing in her office, you were waiting for the thumb drive you’d plugged into her computer to download everything she had on the guy you and Dean were pretty sure was a monster. This info would very likely confirm it, so what you were doing was important. You had to be quick and stealthy. But instead you were standing at her office window, looking out at the reception area and watching her flirt endlessly with “FBI Agent Cobain”.

It was so stupid of you to feel jealous like this. You and Dean were very happily friends with benefits and nothing more. He didn’t owe you anything, and you had no stamp or claim on him. He was free to flirt with anyone he wanted.

You reminded yourself of that very harshly as you shot daggers at The Woman.

Her back was to you, and Dean was facing you. He caught you staring out the window and raised a brow in your direction. He was asking if you were finished, but you shook your head. Dean stepped closer to The Woman so he could slip his hand around her back where she couldn’t see it. He waved his hand at you in a gesture that told you to hurry up. 

You held up a hand, palm out, to tell him to just wait and be patient. 

“Can’t make the computer go any faster, dumbass.” You mumbled to yourself, but you forced yourself to turn away from the window, and Dean’s hand on The Woman’s lower back, and check on the progress of the download. 

It was only a minute more before the computer beeped and the download was complete. You yanked out the thumb drive and tiptoed out of her office, giving Dean a thumbs up as you left.

You hoofed it down the stairs, all the way to the parking garage that was your rendezvous spot. You found Baby sitting in the very last stall and hoisted yourself up onto her hood to wait.

And wait…

And wait…

And…wait!

It was almost twenty minutes before you finally saw Dean coming around the corner of the building and into the entrance of the parking lot. He looked a little disheveled and your heart plummeted. Looked like The Woman had gotten pretty handsy, and not in a way that would be office appropriate. 

He approached the car and had a silly grin on his face. You recognized it as his slightly abashed and embarrassed smile and you wondered what exactly he’d done that made him feel embarrassed. 

Nevermind, you thought, I don’t wanna know.

“Hey!” He said as he approached. “Get everything?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” Dean answered and started to walk around Baby’s hood to get to the driver's side.

You gave a bad imitation of a chuckle, and waved him back towards you. “Hey, how far did Sexy McSexington push her flirting? Took you forever to get out here and it looks a bit like you’ve spent some time making out in the copy room.” You waved at his loosened tie and wrinkled white shirt.

Dean arched a brow and tilted his head slightly. “And if I did? Does that bother you?”

You scoffed a little too hard. “What? Of course not. I was just wondering how far you had to go in the name of keeping your cover.”

Dean pushed out his lips and nodded slowly, walking back to you and pushing your legs open on the hood so he could stand between your knees.

“Is that right?” His voice was disbelieving. “So, you won’t care if I tell you all about the way she pulled me into a supply closet,” he raised a finger, “not the copy room, and had her wicked way with me?”

His gaze glinted with mischief and you rolled your eyes. “Ugh! Spare me the details, please.” You pushed on his chest lightly so he’d move and let you get down, but he didn’t budge.

“You don’t wanna hear about the way she went down on her knees and-”

You shoved your fingers in your ears. “La la la la la!” You sang loudly out of tune.

Dean pulled on your wrists, forcing your hands down by your side and gave you another wink and a smile. “It does bother you. Admit it, you don’t wanna know about my office escapades do you? Cause YOU wanted to be the one with me in the copy room.”

He waggled his eyebrows and nodded quickly. “Huh? Huh? Because you think I’m gooorgeous, you want to kiiiiss me, you want to huuuug me.” He said, quoting Miss Congeniality and doing a bad Sandra Bullock impersonation. “You want to loooove me. You want to smoooch me.”

You cut him off with a kiss, tugging on his tie to bring him down to your mouth. He chuckled against your lips and then tilted his head slightly so he could deepen the kiss. He swept his tongue past your lips and licked up into the roof of your mouth, tasting you thoroughly and moaning down your throat. He fisted his hand in your hair and pulled your head back so he could slide his open mouth down your neck, scraping his teeth against your sensitive skin and making you shudder.

“Oh god,” you moaned out, “I hate how much you acting like an idiot makes me want to make out with you.”

You felt him smile against your skin before he ran his tongue back up your neck to just behind your ear. He nibbled there for a moment before moving his lips to the shell of your ear and whispering to you, low and sexy.

“Just FYI, there was no copy room, or supply closet.”

You pulled away a little so you could look him in the eye, giving him a suspicious look. “Then what took you so long, and why do you look so…disheveled.”

His sheepish smile was back, and he ducked his head slightly. “I may have needed to escape her by ducking into the men’s room and then crawling out the window.”

Your eyes widened. “Her office is on the third floor!”

He shrugged. “I didn’t say it was easy.”

You shook your head. “You’re such an idiot.” Then you kissed him softly. “But…do you maybe wanna be my idiot? I mean, exclusively my idiot?”

Dean smiled and bit into his bottom lip. “Absolutely.”

[sethsclearwater]

Hey girl,, you've been going OFF on the smut lately and I honestly love it but imma be honest,I miss the fluff images😭 so I was wondering if you could write one where Paul is just being EXTRA protective and all with the reader after she gave birth? Just a lot of fluff and a super protective Paul,, love ya ❤️❤️

"princess," paul let out a heavy sigh, quickly stepping over to you and gently pushing your shoulders back down onto the bed so you'd lay back down.

you let out a huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked up at your imprinter, "sue said you should be resting for at least a week," he explained, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you and gently stroking his hand up and down your arm soothingly as he watched your disgruntled expression.

you sucked in a breath before responding, "i think i can go grab our baby paul," you said with a soft laugh, watching as he rolled his eyes but cracked a small smile at your comment nonetheless.

"i'll go grab him, yea? you should stay here," he suggested and you rolled your eyes again, already knowing there was no way he was letting you get up unless it was absolutely necessary.

you huffed but conceded, giving him a small nod which had him smiling as he leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before he was getting up to go grab your baby from his nursery.

within a few moments, paul returned carrying your baby who was quietly cooing up at his dad. you smiled as you saw the two of them, allowing paul to gently hand you your baby so you could cradle him while he came to sit down next to you in bed, "hi baby," you cooed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, "i missed you," you added with a giggle, smiling when your baby just continued watching you in complete wonder.

"did such a good job," paul murmured after a moment when you curled into his side, referencing your labor the day prior. you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head.

"doesn't feel like it," you responded, voice barely above a whisper but paul could easily hear the playful tone in your voice.

he rolled his eyes, pressing his lips to your hair, "promise you did such a good job," he reiterated, wrapping his arm around you so he could gently squeeze your hip, "even though you said you weren't gonna let me anywhere near you ever again," he added, both of you letting out laughs at the memory of you completely losing it on paul when you started pushing.

"did you take some more tylenol yet?" he asked softly after a moment of silence passed between the two of you. you hummed and nodded in response to him, "is it helping?" he asked, patiently waiting for you to respond as he watched you take in your baby who had quickly fallen asleep in your arms.

"not really," you murmured before peeking up at him, "still feel like i got hit by a bus," you added, both you and paul letting out quiet laughs at your comparison.

"'m sorry princess," paul murmured, pressing his lips to your temple for a moment, "you've got a lifetime supply of those padsicles in the freezer if you want another one," he added and you giggled, shaking your head.

"maybe in a little bit," you whispered, leaning up a bit to press a soft kiss to his lips, "thanks for taking care of me," you added and paul smiled a bit, cupping your jaw with his free hand as you two took in each other for a moment.

"nothing i'd rather be doing," he responded and you beamed up at him, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, happy to know you now had both your boys with you.

[vagabond-umlaut]

gesundheit

you deem gojo to be the most stubborn nurse you've ever seen. you suppose you're the most stubborn patient gojo's ever seen.

but what you don't know is you both are the most caring, and the most idiotic, couple of best friends [or perhaps... something else] anyone's ever seen.

▸ student! gojo satoru x student! gn! reader; sickfic; mentions of flu & the medicines treating it [i wish i could include their composition too but no :(((]; a brief appearance of yummy chicken soup; gallons & gallons of tooth-rotting fluff; one sexual innuendo; ETERNALLY PINING 'TORU & ETERNALLY OBLIVIOUS SHORTIE ARE BACK!! :D

▸ belongs to series we're the summer to our winter rain but you can read this as a stand-alone if you wanna!

▸ the gif, divider and characters used ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

obdurate, obstinate, bull-headed, pig-headed—

you reckon there's no word in the lexicon of any language, from any corner of this world, that can adequately describe the boy crouched before you.

furrowed brows barely visible from behind the unkempt white bangs, gojo shoots you a woefully concerned look, so much so that it makes you wanna smack it right off his face– and says, "your temperature is still above 100, shortie. you sure you took all the medications right on time?"

"i did," you grit out through clenched teeth and a hoarse throat before a fit of cough racks through your warm body, making you clutch onto your blankets for dear life while the airways fight to expel the irritants into the tissue you've pressed over the lower two-thirds of your face—

a painful battle which continues for a good portion of a minute or two before ending– temporarily— you toss the tissue into the overflowing trash can few feet away and return to glaring at your best friend, with a very exhausted, very frustrated sigh.

gojo's shades glint back innocently in the low light of the television as the boy dutifully places the thermometer in its box then moves to put the lids back on the tupperware he brought you dinner in.

you sigh yet again, wrapping the blankets tighter round yourself.

"sometimes, i wonder if you ever learnt to read, y'know?" you mumble in a soft voice, yet its tone mad enough to make him flinch as he rises from the carpet– having cleared the center table of the remainders of the chicken soup haibara made for you– only to cover it a tiny second later with anti-pyretics, cough syrups, nasal decongestants, inhalers-

gasp of shock worsening into a scratchy cough, you wheeze out, "did you really not read my messages, 'toru? i asked u to leave my soup at the doorstep but you warped right to the centre of my living room— i also asked you not to buy any medicine for me, i already bought them today, but- but- you literally bought the entire medicine shop for me!"

"yeah. and?" the white-haired boy retorts, short and sweet with that eye-crinkling beam of his– one he knows never not works on you, "it isn't like i don't have the means to afford it. and as for your orders via the messages..."

he trails off, shooting you a wink as he moves to plop down near your feet on the sofa and drawls, "i've always been a brat. why don't ya put me back in my place, huh?"

in his place... don't tell me this idiot's speaking of...

"is that supposed to be a bdsm thing, satoru?" you inquire, genuinely confused. concerned. "and you should raise your standards, y'know? thinking a person sick and dying from a flu to be attractive enough to apply a pick-up line on them; i hone– hey, no, why the fuck are you—"

"scoot. over."

neither gojo's stony tone nor his pinched features brook any room for you to disagree, yet you decide not to be held back by such, legs and arms struggling to free themselves from the blanket to push the way too tall figure squeezing you into the sofa as he lies down beside you.

not even a moment passes before your blankets are rudely ripped off your body, then dumped on the floor beneath. swallowing back a sigh of relief– the fan feels so good!– you muster a glower to shoot at your best friend.

earning an eyeroll and a huff, you know are fond, in reply.

"the paracetamol will be kicking in soon, and you'll start sweating like hell then," the boy explains, plucking his shades off and placing them on the table beside, "and that sweat needs to get evaporated asap for your fever to reduce asap— which won't happen if you stay swaddled in your blankets. didn't ya know that, shortie?"

your fever-stricken mind didn't until now, but you decide not to voice the fact out loud, just to not appease the smug grin on that bastard's face.

instead, you retort, "but don't you know staying in close contact with a sick person, taking no preacutions, can make you fall ill too?"

"nah!" gojo shoves your concern away with a dismissive shake of his head, "i'm not one of the strongest duo for nothing, you know? them weakass flu viruses can do nothing to me."

then adds, swiping a calloused palm over the skin of your forehead— cracking a smile, you realize, is 'cause he finds it sweating, "moreover, you're sick, shortie— you don't think i'm gonna leave you to take care of yourself, all alone with no one to help, do you?"

you don't.

of course, you don't, knowing who your dearest friend is— a very very stubborn boy, a store of immense power, but most importantly— the holder of a heart made from the purest of pure gold...

a half-hearted ugh is the only response you decide to grace his query with, not really minding when the boy ruffles your hair and pulling the thinnest of the blankets over you both, shifts so that he is now on his side with an arm tucked under his head, while you remain squished in between him and the sofa, face nearly pressing into his shirt-covered chest.

allowing a beat to pass, you peer up at him, mumbling tiredly.

"but why are you sleeping with me here, 'toru? go to one of the rooms and sleep in them. your legs will hurt a lot tomorrow, if you keep them dangling like that."

"let them," gojo smiles, wrapping a loose arm round your midsection, "it's more important for me to stay close to you to know when you're feeling sick and when you're not- or do you wanna make me sleep on the floor? i can do that for you."

"i am not saying this for me, 'toru," you grumble, inching closer to him despite your brain barking opposite instructions at you, "it's for you– i move a lot when i'm asleep. you won't get even a wink of sleep."

your best friend's lips lift knowingly. "why do you think i trapped you like this, hm?"

your zeal to dissuade him, itself fades a little. still, you persist, "i also tend to mumble in my sleep. won't you find that creepy?"

"nothing's creepy if it's in your sweet voice," he answers with a very... uncanny smile then rushes to add with a visibly exhausted sigh when you shoot him a frown, "i've got earplugs in my bag. i'll use them if it's too unbearable for me."

"tch!"

the battle of talking him out of this seemingly- definitely lost, you tsk and move to shut your eyes, finally letting your ailing body to listen to the call of sleep— before your eyes fly open again— a brand new idea whirring to life in your mind.

"but what if i start sneezing, or worse, coughing in the middle of the night? what are you go—"

"shut up," gojo shushes you, pressing your face into his shirt by a firm hold on the back of your head. you make a yelp of protest but it goes ignored by him as he continues, voice dropping to a pleasant rumble.

"and in case you start sneezing or coughing, i'm gonna wake up and take care of you and will stay awake till you're perfectly okay and fine— is that clear to you, shortie? taking care of you is only why i'm here tonight— why else would i bother myself with a snot-nosed person?"

his remark makes your fingers want to pinch his sides hard– but you stop them— choosing to let them draw nonsensical designs over his back, instead. a barely-there shiver passes through his body, you feel it, the same moment he removes his hand from the back of your hair to keep it in between your shoulder blades, lightly pressing, loosening the knots there.

yawning a little, you nuzzle into him at the comfort his action gives, then blink a pair of bleary eyes up at him, "do you know how much i adore you?"

curiosity and delight dimple his cheeks in a smile, clear as day for you to see. he asks, "you do?"

"mmhm," you don't waste even an instant in humming your assent, the relief brought by the medicines and gojo making you slowly fall into the grasp of slumber, "i really do. you're very very very precious to me and i adore you so much, 'toru. you're the best."

"i'm very happy to know that," the boy murmurs in a tone way too soft for him, but your slowly ebbing consciouness doesn't let you dwell on it for long— a smile shaping your lips at his next words, "and i too love you very much. i lo-"

he stops abruptly, making you frown up at him, worried— only to find him wearing a bright grin on his face. something tells you he is hiding something— his eyes are too nervous for a bragging person as him...

deciding not to pay it any attention, you pucker your lips into a pout.

"heyyy," you whine, "finish your sentence, 'toru!!! you can't leave your darling best friend hanging like thattt!!!"

the tension in his facial muscles reduces a pinch at your demand. the boy's grin widens, glowing even brighter to your tired eyes than those led-like blue eyes of his in the dim lights of the room.

thumbing your cheek lightly, he gives into your urging. "okay, fine— i love my darling shortie the most in this world. so much so that there is no one in this world who can love you as much as i do," he says in a gentle whisper, then adds— face growing that same strange smile as before— "my beloved best friend... now does that make you happy?"

the abrupt change in his tone to an oddly cheery quality as he makes his query is more than enough to give you one hell of a whiplash. you quickly sidestep it– filing the many queries it brings, away to be dealt with on a healthier day.

a brief shiver sending you press yourself closer into his comforting self, you close your eyes and mumble into the fabric of his shirt, "it makes me the happiest... thank you, 'toru. i too love you the most."

a tiny beat passes before you feel a feather-light kiss landing on your hairline— and that's the last thing you notice, before your drowsiness finally claims you, lulling you to a restful sleep in the safe embrace of your dearest 'toru.

▸ IMPORTANT NOTE: whatever u do, pls don't be as dumb as 'toru or shortie here!! if u r the one suffering from a flu or if u r the one taking care of a person who has flu, pls take the required precautions, and take care of urself and the ppl around u! love u sm!

[as a med student, it literally pained me to write these two being so stupid & careless when dealing with an illness as infectious and irritating like flu... but oh well. anything is possible in fiction, right? 🙃]

▸ masterlist

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

~

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

~

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

~

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

[sluttysnowangel666]

Chapters 1, 2, & 3 of The Song of Blackwoods and Brackens

Kieran Burton fancast, this story will include violence, crude language, smut eventually, angst

This story is written BY ME and I do not consent or give permission to it being posted or translated anywhere else. thank you for supporting your writers <3

if you enjoy this story, submit questions or requests for one shots and imagines ❤️also taking cregan stark requests as well

Chapter Master List

Summary: A unique, fictional short story set in the "A Song of Ice & Fire/House of the Dragon" universe.

The Battle of the Burning Mill was one of legend. A bloody and brutal fight between two great houses at the start of the Dance of Dragons. There were those who supported the rightful Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, and those who supported the Usurper Aegon Targaryen.

This account retells the days leading up to the battle, and the tension between the son of Samwell Blackwood and the "nephew" of Amos Bracken. These two fighters hold a secret known to no one that changes both of their lives and the future of their houses.

*this story is NOT canon, and might change depending on how the show continues to play with these characters. especially depending on if davos is meant to be bloody ben. this story is a davos/bloody ben x female reader pretending to be a male, nsfw*

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Preface

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

"Uncle, you cannot mean it!"

"I do. You will do this for the future of our house, and that is final. Your father wanted you to marry long ago. It's unnatural a lady of your age is not even betrothed." My uncle Amos declares.

"I understand, uncle. I know my duty. But I beg you, please let the wise lords come to me to ask my hand, Uncle. Do not betroth me to a man I know nothing of!" I cry out.

"You are being ridiculous, young lady. I will hear nothing more of this matter. You know nothing of the wars to come. This alliance between our houses will secure our land and our future. You will marry the Lannister boy and that is final. Now, take your handmaiden and return to your chambers." He says, and I know there is nothing more I can say or do. My uncle was a cold man. He showed no sort of interest in what I, his niece, wished.

"Come, my lady." My handmaiden, Ara, says. She gives my arm a soft tug, and I follow her, trying to catch my uncles eyes before I leave the room. But it is of no use. He has no time for a lady, only time for the wars to come.

That night, I stared at myself in the mirror above my vanity as my handmaiden brushed my long hair.

"Leave me please, Ara." I requested her. She nodded, bowed her head, and left.

I continued to stare at myself in the mirror. I stared and stared until I no longer recognized the lady staring back at me.

Once I finished my staring, I sat with my thoughts. What would this Lannister lord be like? I oft heard of the Lannister beauty and gold. Many of the men were strong knights, the ladies as fair as they come. But would my lord be gentle, forgiving, kind? I fear I could not love a ruthless man. I also fear I do not have a choice.

"For the good of our house"

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

"Father, you requested an audience with me?" Benjicot says, bowing to his father as he enters the hall.

"Yes, my son. I have a very important matter to ask of you." Samwell says, he turns and rests his hand on his son's shoulder.

His son, Benjicot, was a man of twenty and two, and was a fearsome knight. Benjicot had trained under the finest knights, fought in the toughest tourneys, and worked tirelessly to prove himself strong.

"I need you to hold the lands by the North Eastern mill. Those bloody Brackens have been allowing their livestock to cross into our territory, and letting their retched cows feast on our grass and crops." Samwell says, "All you have to do is hold the land and kill a few Brackens. I know this is simple, but this task is vital to our house and to supporting the Queen. If we take out these Brackens, the Usurper cunt will take a blow to their armies. I only need you to hold the lands for no more than a week, upon which I will arrive by your side to help slay the Brackens."

"As you wish, father."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Lady Bracken

One moon before the Battle of the Burning Mill

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

"You must eat something, my lady."

"You cannot make me. I will starve before my retched uncle dares to marry me off to a conniving Lannister." I scold my handmaiden. None of this is any fault of her own, but perhaps death will be a kinder escape than forced into a betrothal.

"Please, my lady. It's been days. You must be starving by now."

"I find it hard to have an appetite knowing I'll soon be carrying a babe in my belly as an heir for House Lannister." I say. My handmaiden sighs and sets down the plate as a knock rings on the solid oak door.

My uncle enters, "You may go." He dismisses my handmaiden coldly. She bows and exits swiftly.

He addresses me.

"I have begun to prepare for your leave to Casterly Rock. Your handmaidens will begin packing your things following my departure tonight to King's Landing to meet with His Grace. Your brother Aeron will be acting lord until my return. You on the other hand, shall prepare to leave within the fortnight. A ceremony is in preparations as we speak." He says, briskly. "And I command you stop this nonsense at once. You are a lady and will do your duty to secure our alliances, which includes eating. You cannot arrive to Casterly Rock looking that of a starving lowborn."

I wait a moment before responding flatly, "I understand, uncle."

He takes this response as a success and leaves my bed chambers hastily.

My vanity.

I make my way back to my vanity. I stare again, and again. I stare endlessly. I stare until my face turns ghastly. I was becoming a woman obsessed with this bloody mirror.

And then it hits me. How could I have been so absent minded? I am not the future of my house. I have brothers who will create heirs and carry on the bloodline. I am not the future of House Lannister. My uncle cannot and will not make me marry the lord Lannister. Over my dead body.

I make my way over to the my chamber door. I open it and peer out, looking left and right for any signs of handmaidens or servants. When none appear, I walk out. All I have to do is mind my self and surroundings, and then no one will pay any mind to the Lady Bracken.

After making my way across the endless halls of the family castle, I find myself standing in front of my uncles war council chambers. I press my ear to the door to listen, but hear no voices or signs of someone being inside. I make my way in and walk straight for the dagger kept above the mantle. My uncle won't notice, at least until his return.

I return to my bed chambers, quickly rushing to stuff the dagger under my mattress before a handmaiden can question me.

My idea is foolish. Stupid. It won't work. Although, I have nothing to lose. Nothing to lose, but everything to gain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: She’s the Man

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

The moment my uncle's carriage was no longer in sight, I prepared for my plan.

I waited 3 days as to not arouse suspicion.

"Brother!" I called out to my twin brother, Aeron.

"The training yard is no place for a Lady. Return inside. Whatever the matter is can wait." He scolds me.

"A raven has arrived from our uncle. The king has wished the heir of House Bracken to accompany our Lord Uncle to bend the knee and declare for His Grace." I say, holding out a scroll for my brother.

"This makes no sense." He says, snatching the scroll from my hand. "There is no seal. When did this arrive?"

"Just now, brother. It is the King's words and penmanship."

"How am I to trust an unsealed scroll?" He snaps.

"I suppose you could ignore the request. But if you do, His Grace may believe it to be you wish to declare for Rhaenyra." I say.

He contemplates. My foolish brother. "If you leave now, you will meet Uncle along the Kingsroad. You will only be a few days behind. You might chance meet him at Harrenhal."

He sighs, "When are you to leave for Casterly Rock? We simply cannot leave Stone Hedge unattended."

"Uncle simply said within the fortnight. I will send a raven at once to Casterly Rock to inform them of a possible delay of my arrival." I say, "But you must hurry, brother. A war is coming. House Bracken cannot end up on the wrong side. We need the King's trust."

My words, sweet like honey but full of falseness persuade my brother. He makes his preparations, and is gone by the following morning.

I begin my own preparations.

—————

The clarity of my foolish plan set in shortly after my brother left. But it was too late to turn around. My brother had told our servants and knights I would be leading House Bracken until their return.

Maybe I couldn't escape this betrothal. Maybe I couldn't support the rightful Queen. But maybe... just maybe I could make a fool of my House as revenge. My House, my blood, who never showed me any sort of attention. They simply sold me off as a broodmare once l was finally useful to them.

My foolish blood. They will soon come to find out just how useful I can be.

I sit in front of my vanity again, for what will be the last time. I twirl the dagger in my hands, prodding its sharp edge with my dumb. Plenty sharp. Well enough for killing Blackwoods.

I reach my hand up and grab my hair into an even hold. I raise the dagger, and cut it all off in one clean swipe.

I stare at my reflection, setting down the knife so I may run my fingers through the freshly cut blunt ends. I shake the loose hair out of my hands.

"Lord Bracken." I say to myself in the mirror, lowering my voice deeply to sound more of a man. I shake my head. "No, I sound foolish."

"Lord Bracken." I say again, adding a rasp to my voice. "Getting somewhere."

I clear my throat, "I am Lord... Aeron of House Bracken, the heir..."

Gods, I was screwed. I didn't even know my brother's proper title. Was he a knight? I think so... mayhaps?

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

"Bloody fuckin' hell." Benjicot snaps in anger, as he stares at the cattle on his land. "I swear to the seven I'm going to murder that Bracken cunt."

"Someone ought to teach that little prick a lesson." His cousin says, spitting at the end of his sentence. "We'll move the stones back for now. When you see him on his guard, show him how a Blackwood takes care of business."

Benjicot nods slightly.

"Oy, did you hear? Turns out they're marrying the Lady Bracken off to some Lannister cunt." His cousin says. "I've heard she's very pretty. Got them soft Bracken genes."

"And what do I care? Probably another cunt like her brother and uncle."

"Never said you did. Just found it funny. They seem to have a thing for letting their cattle roam on other people's land." His cousin insults. Benjicot chuckles at this.

"Poor girl. If there's one thing I hate more than a Bracken, it's a Lannister. Bloody cocksuckers they are." Benjicot says, his cousin agreeing.

"We best get these bloody cattle and stones back where they belong."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Watchers Anonymous

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, skinny!Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Thor, Loki, Curtis Everett, Jake Jensen, Cole Turner, Captain Syverson, (so far)

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for each of the above. This is our introduction to the group.

Summary: men with illicit infatuations come together to share and plot their perfect fantasies.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Introduction

"Do you really think we need snacks?" Jake asks as he unwraps the pan of rice crispy squares with sprinkles and chocolate drizzle. "I didn't think so but my aunt gave them to me," Peter shrugs. "I don't know."

"You're aunt?" Jake scoffs. He might be a loser but he's no mama's boy.

"Yeah, I mean, I usually go to bingo with her on Wednesdays but then this came up and... I had to make an excuse. I told her we were campaigning," he shrugs. "So she said, oh I'll make you boys some snacks..."

"Right," Jensen crosses his arms, reassured that he's not the lamest one in the pack. Not so far.

"When's that buddy of yours showing up?"

"Curtis? Oh, he said he wasn't sure," Jake shrugs. He hopes he has a friendly face there but he understands if it doesn't pan out. They all have places they'd rather be.

"Kinda nervous, not gonna lie," Peter confesses. It was his idea that they all meet up but now he's kind of regretting it. Strangers on the internet, on discord of all places, aren't necessarily the trustworthy type. He figures he's on there though and he's not that bad.

"Well, you seem chill," Jake offers. "So..."

"Thanks, I guess," Peter huffs.

There's a scuff at the door. A skinny blond stands in the doorway, looking down the hall behind him. He smooths his hair with his sweaty hands, slightly trembling. "Buck," he calls out in a voice deeper than one would guess by his appearance. "Down here." "Yeah, yeah," another replies behind the tramp of thick treads. "Looking for a john in this place. Shouldn't have had coffee."

"Oh, uh, Steve?" Peter greets uncertainly, "if I have that right?"

"That's me, yeah." He clears his throat and faces them. His nose is too big for his face, like a beak. The rest of him is tiny. He makes Peter feel big. Just like his special one... they'll get to that in a minute.

His friend catches up to him. Stood right behind him, he looks massive. Peter knows him too. Virtually at least. 

"And Bucky?" Peter adds. The other guy grunts and nods.

"This all?" Steve looks around at the mostly empty room.

"There's food?" Bucky wonders as he combs through his long hair. "Wasn't aware this was a catered event."

"Just snacks," Peter insists. He doesn't need any more hazing. Next time, he'll leave May's baking at home.

Steve wrings his hands before tucking them into his pockets. He chews his cheeks as Bucky heads for the snacks and greets Jake. There's more voices coming.

"Brother, don't be so grim," the large blond enters buoyantly, "it's about time you made some friends."

"I have friends," a slither returns dully.

"Ah, it is Peter!" Thor booms, not needing any introduction, though Peter wonders how he recognises him. "And let me guess, Jake with the glasses. Bucky has the shaggy hair like a dog, and Steve is slighter in frame."

"How..." Jake mutters.

"It is a gift of mine," he proclaims, "I'm Thor in case you couldn't guess. Oh and this," he pulls the other man forward and slings his arm over his lithe shoulders. "Is my brother, Loki."

Peter considers the uninvited sibling. Not as tall as his brother, or thick, and with sleek black hair and a long nose. They don't look related at all.

"I didn't know we were bringing plus ones," Bucky chews on a tart.

"Me either," Jake says.

"Oh, I do hope you don't mind. I wanted to invite him to the chat prior but... he is not often on the phone."

"It's fine," Peter assures, "I guess."

Bucky grumbles with less optimism and Jake sways. It's not exactly a gaming group or wholesome in any manner. Outsiders aren't safe.

"Relax, he has a special one," Thor girds. "Haven't you, brother?"

"I told you to mind your business," Loki retorts and gets only laughter in return.

"Jensen," a man enters without hesitation and marches to aforementioned man.

"Curt," Jake greets him with a nod, "you made it."

"Not thanks to... you!" He spots Thor and squares his shoulder. "You know, that truck is too big for your skillset."

"Ah, yes, it is only a ding, we will exchange info after," Thor rubs his neck with a guilty smile.

"Who are we missing?" Steve asks.

"Sy?" Jake suggests. "Don't think anyone else could make it."

"I'm here!" A sudden scramble through the door ends in a heap on the floor. The group of men turn to face the newcomer. "Urgh, ow." The man lays on his back after his slip. "I'm okay!"

He sits up and rubs the back of his head. Bucky tuts, "smooth."

"I'm--" the man pushes himself to his feet, "Cole. Ugh, I had to drive all the way here-- well, I know we all did, but, just not used to city roads."

"Cole," Peter is the first to approach, it's strange being the one doing most of the leading. Especially among this bunch. "Hey, nice to meet you. Peter."

He goes around the room and introduces everyone. Cole repeats each name anxiously. A sole squeaks through the door and a throat clears. A burly man with a baseball cap and scuffy bear wears a canvas jacket in grey camo.

"Sy," he intones as he enters. "Oh, are those brownies?"

"Right, that's everyone," Jake declares. "So, uh... what now?"

[saraloveslove]

Zayn's tribute to Liam yesterday in Wolverhampton was simple, sweet, painful and emotional.

“I’ve been doing something at the end of the show every night and it’s being dedicated to my brother Liam Payne. Rest in peace, i hope you’re seeing this.”

And then he sang "It's you"

I am sure Liam is watching over his boys from above and I am also sure he can feel now all our love. I only wished he could have felt it before.

I just wished people could have respect for him, at least in the death.

Zayn, I also hope you can feel our big hug for you. We know this tour isn't going as you thought it would and we can see and feel how much you are grieving for such a devasting loss 💔

I just want you to know we are here ❤️

[koalatysleep]

Artist jungyun99 on the above site has such spectacular Kuwameshi fanart!!! Seriously everything is so good!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Especially this Gun x Sword artwork!!

The fierce protectiveness of Yusuke verging on retaliation against whoever hurt Kuwabara! His hand buried in Kuwabara's hair, cradling his head both possessively and protectively! Kuwabara's hand on Yusuke's shoulder, gentling him and calming him! The inherent eroticism of their positions between each other's thighs!

This one image conveys so much!

I imagine whoever hurt Kuwabara did so unintentionally while freaking out about their own emerging powers, and Kuwabara got hurt while trying to help! Perhaps it's a fellow classmate who's otherwise innocent, thus Kuwabara calming Yusuke so he doesn't do anything rash that he'd regret later!

More eye candy below, all credit to the artist! Check out their work on the site!

Super cute Yusuke linking his hands behind Kuwabara's neck! The boys look young here like it's set during Genkai's succession arc!

Seriously this looks like it could have come out of Chapter 6 or 10 in my fic The Good Fight! 😁

Our heroes looking older like in Sensui arc! Does anyone read korean, what's Yusuke saying to make Kuwa blush like that? 🤩😍😝

YES!! Finally art of Yusuke carrying Kuwabara bridal style!!! Kuwa's expression says it all! "This is so emasculating but I fucking love it" 🤣🤣🤣❤️❤️❤️❤️ Look at how proud and happy Yusuke looks! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

More art from the artist on the safebooru site, massive thanks to other tumblr users who first shared the GunxSword art to clue me into this treasure trove!

[yayasvalveplay]

https://www.tumblr.com/yayasvalveplay/774668454910443520/httpswwwtumblrcomyayasvalveplay7746063543683?source=share

GAHH I'm having brain rot over this ❤️ I came for robot porn–STAYED FOR ANGST 😭

Like what if D-16 was too late? Or Orion decided that since today will be his last day–he talks, he has energy for now. Where despite planning to leave; knowing that if he talks to D, whatever will he has to leave might diminish— he shouldn't–not with their sparkling on the line. BUT HE STILL GOES TO TALK BECAUSE HE LOVES AND MISSES D. Orion at least wants to lessen his worries for once, just for now.

Instead of D-16 following Orion all the way to the alcove to confront him. ORION CONFRONTS D— he suddenly wants to talk to him, he wants to clear some things up with his best friend, to try to explain lie — that everything is fine or going to be fine... he just gained perspective, that he realized D was right, that he needed to be more careful and more responsible. Honestly anything Orion trying to explain his truth as he rubs his servo on his abdominal plate; he was just working too hard and focused too much. He talks.

However, it's clear though that Orion isn't sharing everything. Despite D-16 clearly wanting to know/demand more; he's already gotten more from Pax than he has in all this time Orion has been withdrawn. his stupid annoying cute lively energetic friend looks so tired. But he appears genuinely happy tearfully so even to be talking to D again—D-16 can't help but take it in, he can't ruin this. Sure he's mad and worried but his amica his other half is talking to him again and internally; D feels so emotionally relieved over this... that he's willing to at least let it slide for a little bit... he'll talk more with Pax later. He comes to regret this so much. For now; D-16 makes sure Orion gets his rest before shutting his optics, the blue and red mech the last image as D falls asleep...

D-16 wakes up to an empty berth infront of him. Orion isn't at work. No one has seen Orion and there isn't a hint of him anywhere. The thought that he went off to do his shenanigans once again is there from a couple of bots, more like a self-assurance. He'll be back. Except they were wrong. The sudden disappearance of the trouble making blue and red mech is far too noticeable among the miners. But what can they really do? They can't go searching for him, they wouldn't be allowed, can't break protocol–

D-16 really really tries whatever he could do to find Orion... he interrogates other miners, asks if they had talked to Orion- ANYTHING... but he's gone, his Orion is gone and D-16 has genuinely never felt so angry so hurt, why did pax leave?! And yet- so terrified and distraught over his Pax. It doesn't take long for the empty spot where his best friend use to be, right across from D-16— to be filled in and replaced immediately by another miner. Another cog in the machine. Someone else is sleeping in Orion's berth.

For how D-16 finds out about the sparkling, because this is Orion Pax of fucking course, D finds a datapad right on top of his berth-JUST ABOVE HIS HELM BECAUSE ORION WOULD LEAVE SOMETHING LIKE THAT THERE. It's a farewell note from Orion, how nothing was D-16's fault for Orion choosing to leave, that he'll be okay, etc.

This is where D finds about about the sparkling, but its not enough to fully know and thus begins how D-16 pulls an Orion and sneaks to find out more!

Lmao ya. Welcome to what this blog is. You think it's just porn but nope, we put plot and lore into our porn.

I also love all of this. Orion just dissapering and he gets replaced just as quickly. What if the bot tries being friendly with Dee but he's cold, and shut down, snapping at the new bot whenever he approaches.

Elita is also worried, for both her best working boys.

Jazz is worried for Orion and confined in Dee.

This just solidifies his need to pull an Orion and get more information from the Archives.

Imagine his first time getting caught.

"This is the last time Oreon prax- wait who are you?"

"Your new worst fragging nightmare." Before running.

Orion is up on the surface. He just picks a direction and just goes. He's walking for weeks with breaks to refuel and inseminate Dee's transfluid.

And by some miracle the high guard find him.

[storm-angel989]

Hi I rlly like stories!! Ur an amazing writer and I love all your stuff:) I’m not exactly sure if I’m doing this right but I’d like to request something if your ok with it ofc! Can I have a Vox x daughter Reader where she has to tell the vees that she’s bisexual ( it doesn’t have to be bisexual, I just chose that bc I am :) whatever ur comfortable with! ) and she’s rlly scared bc she doesn’t know if they will support her. Srry if this is bad! You totally don’t have to do this if you don’t want too! I love your work❤️

Hi there,

Thank you so so so much! I’ve touched on the topic of coming out in several different stories. If you check out my master list, you’ll find the following stories:

Valentino x Teenage Daughter (Daddy, I like girls) 

Vox x Teenage Daughter (Dad, I like girls) 

However, I haven’t written on specifically for a bisexual reader, so see below! Velvette and Vox’s daughter, coming out to her parents. Enjoy!

<3 Mandy 

I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling, counting the few glow in the dark stars that remained stuck firmly above where I slept. I think it was my Uncle Valentino who put them up. I sighed and rolled over as I pulled my head over my pillow. Uncle Val. He was the first person I talked to and the one who suggested I talk to my Dad. 

Bebita, you can like both boys and girls. There is nothing wrong with that, Uncle Valentino had said. You’re not confused. Sexually is a spectrum, mi amore. There is no right or wrong. Your Mom and Dad love you, no matter who you love. I promise

Still, despite his reassurances, I was dreading that conversation. As Uncle Valentino escorted me back to our flat, I made him promise he would be there to support me when I came out to my parents. With a kiss on the forehead, he promised that not only would he be there, but it would all be okay. 

“Hey baby? Dinner is ready,” my father’s voice floated down the hallway. 

Reluctantly, I sat up and swung my feet over my bed as I trudged my way out to the kitchen. I slid into my seat and my Uncle Valentino reached over and patted me on the head.

“Bebita princessa, mi amore. Before we eat, let's talk, yes?” He prodded gently. “I told you parents that you have something very important to share with us.” 

I swallowed as the fear knotted in my stomach.

“Come on baby, what is it?” Velvette asked. “Spill, what’s on your mind?”

“You know you can talk to us,” Vox added. 

I took a deep breath and my Uncle Valentino gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. 

“Mom, Dad. I think I’m bisexual,” I said softly. 

Silence over the table. I allowed myself to look up. Vox and Velvette stared at me with confusion. 

“And…?” Vox prodded. “And…you failed your science test? You need help in math?”

“Someone is bullying you? Give me the names, I’ll handle it,” Velvette added. 

I shook my head. “No…just, I think I’m bisexual. I sort of had a crush on a girl and we kissed. But also, like, I really liked my last boyfriend?” 

“Okay,”  Vox said slowly. 

“Sweetheart, we love you no matter who you love,” Velvette said as she walked over. She pulled me into a hug and I hugged her back. “Your father and I aren't exactly straight ourselves.” 

“You’re not upset?” I asked anxiously. “I thought for sure…”

“Babe. Have you met your Uncle Valentino?” Vox asked as he glanced at Valentino. “He’s the definition of…”

“Alright,” Valentino interrupted. “See bebita? I told you your parents would love you no matter what. Now, Vox. Pass the potatoes. I’m starving.”