#Cool Wolf T-shirt

[lonewolf1899]

https://www.zazzle.com/why_pack_when_you_can_snack_alone_funny_cool_quote_t_shirt-256817705654101402

[darabeatha]

Day 3874395849395949588337276372 we got a new servant and his armor is cool but at what cost- (moctezuma)

[e-and-m-designs]

(via Imán con la obra «lince salvaje y libre» de ErMa-Designs)

[themultifanshipper]

Mayhaps Plus size!reader and Lando? A forbidden relationship, perhaps. Like, she's one of the PR people or something. She's incredibly insecure etc but he's obsessed and can't keep his hands (or eyes) off.

Aight here we go!

Bear with me on this one it gets a tad wild, feral Lando is everything to me.

Warnings: Lando being a menace, thigh fucking, marking, spanking, bit of spit, also cum

You always wore pants around the paddock, much to Lando's dismay.

When it was just the two of you away from the prying eyes of the public, you would parade around in skirts and dresses, even in nothing but his t-shirts that barely covered your ass. It drove Lando crazy, the sneak peaks were never enough, he had to admire your curves from up close. So usually, the days ended with him tearing your clothes off and worshipping you. And when he felt a bit subby, he’d rut against you, your thighs, ass, tits (anything really), and he would come in his pants like a teenager.

But where there were people, and cameras, you stayed well covered.

There were two reasons for this, there was the reason you told Lando: To keep him from going crazy around you, he was already handsy enough as it was when he could see your skin, leading to a couple of incidents where there had been complaints about PDA.

But the other reason, you didn’t care to share with him. The ‘real’ reason. You were self-conscious about your body. Every other woman in the paddock was basically a swimsuit model, and although you were beautiful (Lando’s words not yours), you felt like covering yourself up was the best way to keep from being judged too harshly.

One day though, you decided to be a bit risqué and wear something a bit low cut, which drove Lando completely mad, but that was the goal.

What wasn’t the goal was the looks some of the employees were giving you all day. One of them even went as far as whistling lowly as you passed. Bastard.

That night you were at Lando’s, flopped on his bed in one of his shirts and he knew immediately something was off. As he started to climb on top of you, hands wandering, you pushed him off and grumbled about not being in the mood. Lando was gobsmacked, you were never ‘not in the mood’.

“What’s up baby?” he asked curling up next to you, letting his hand roam up and down your arm.

“I don’t know, I just- I got some attention today that I wasn’t comfortable with.”

Lando frowned “Did anyone say anything?”

“Not to me directly” you sighed “But I got a lot of dirty looks and even a wolf whistle on my way out at lunch”.

Lando pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you. “Ignore those cunts babe, you wear whatever you want, and if anyone has a problem with that you send them straight to me”

You sighed frustratedly “I’m just not a model Lando, I’m not who you’re supposed to be with. Can you imagine the hate I’d get if people found out about us?”

“I don’t care about them baby, I love you! And all the extra is just more bits of you to love”

He started placing kisses over your chest, down to your stomach and looked up at you. “And I’m going to prove it to you.”

He grabbed your thighs and spread them, licking and sucking over them vigorously as you squirmed in his hold. But his fingers dug into your flesh to keep you still as he lavished your skin, sucking bruises into every inch of your thick thighs.

He finally reached where you needed him most, just lazily pushing your panties to the side before devouring you, his fingers soon joining as you fell apart on his tongue.

Once you were fully satisfied, he lifted your legs up, crossed at the ankle over his left shoulder.

“What are you-“ you asked before getting cut off by the feeling of him spitting on your pussy and sliding his cock though your folds to get himself nice and wet, before sliding upwards towards where your thighs met. He was panting at this point, obviously affected by the sight of your skin bulging where his fingers gripped it tight.

“Lando-“

“Shhhhh, baby” he cooed, starting to lose his cool a bit “just let me fuck your thighs, yeah? Let me show you how much I fucking love them” he growled as he slipped in between them easily and started thrusting gently. He groaned and his hips stuttered at the unfamiliar feeling.

The sight of his dick sliding between your thighs was lewd, but the sight of Lando loosing it over them was even better. On every other thrust his dick made contact with your sensitive clit, making you tense, and your thighs clench around him.

But it wasn’t enough for you, you needed more. “Lando please, just fuck me, please!”

You were never above a bit of begging, and Lando was never capable of saying no to you.

“Okay baby, but turn over, I want to see your ass shake when I make you fall apart on my cock”

And shake it did. Lando was pounding into you, hand weaved into your hair to arch your back as he was completely engrossed in the way your ass and thighs wobbled every time his hips slammed into yours.

“All this, baby, all this is just for me” He groaned as he let go of your hair to grab your hips with both hands and picked up the pace.

“Lando, please I’m so close!” you gasped as he tutted “No baby, no coming until I say”. He then raised his hand and brought it down on your ass, hard.

You squealed as he did it again. And again. Until you were a shaking mess underneath him, no longer able to hold yourself up with your arms as you fell into the pillows face first. He loomed over you, putting his hands either side of your head and kept pounding into you, changing the angle drastically, now hitting your g-spot dead on.

“Come now baby, come on my cock like a good girl”

You screamed into the pillow as you did just that, shaking through the waves of your orgasm into overstimulation until Lando took pity on you and pulled out, finishing over your ass and the back of your thighs.

“Fuck can I take a picture baby? I need to add this to my wank bank”

And just like that the moment was broken. But you gave him a lazy thumbs up anyway, incapable of speech for the moment.

Once he cleaned you up, you fell asleep pretty much immediately. And he climbed into bed with you, but not before snapping another picture.

The next day, a picture of you snuggled into the covers, one leg visibly littered in hickeys and handprints, appeared on his instagram.

The caption read: "Thick thighs do save lives, but I would gladly drown 👅"

Well, the PR team was going to have some damage control to do. The problem was, you were the PR team. Oops.

[serpentface]

a bit curious how various characters would present in a modern setting, like somewhat in the interest of contemporary gender/sexuality stuff but mostly because i want to know who would wear stupid t shirts

Ok finally answering this now that I've got two of them.

Note that this is a near-zero nuance take with very little consideration as to who these characters would Be in a modern context and how the different societal pressures would affect them. I've kind of just Removed pressures from their in-universe cultural context.

Couya: exclusively wears t-shirts and jeans. Puts zero effort in her appearance. Owns a lot of 3 wolf moon type shirts and thinks they're extremely cool. Was on T for a while and then forgot to take the doses until she didn't care anymore.

Janeys: Complete and utter prep, pastel button ups and everything, disgusting. Probably has shorter hair and keeps his face clean shaven. Might have a singular matching tattoo with Brakul hidden Somewhere

Brakul: Looks almost exactly the same but might shave his beard differently. Extensive decorative tattoos and piercings. Mostly Wears tank tops and t shirts. Noted Green Bay Packers fan.

Palo: among the more fashion conscious of these people but somehow always ends up looking like a librarian. Probably on E.

Tigran: Looks VERY different due to not being made a eunuch at 11 and not being a monk. Has the glasses he canonically needs. Definite stupid t shirt appreciator.

Faiza: has a well put together perpetually business casual look, silk shirts, knee length skirts, etc. Looks like a politician.

Hibrides: kind of has a casual goth thing going on. Shaved her head on impulse once and doesn't actually like it but sticks with it due to the monumental effort of growing it back out. Probably wears a lot of hoodies. Puts a lot of effort into her appearance but tries to make it look casual. Since the day I birthed her I knew she would be a NIN fan.

[xtra7s]

Regina George (2024) x fem reader smut story please

love your writing💖

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Synopsis: Regina decides to talk to the party's wallflower.

Content: Switch!Regina, Switch!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, degradation, praise

Word Count: 2.4k+

masterlist

Regina George surveyed the pulsating scene with laser-sharp precision. Bodies gyrated beneath strobe lights, shouts competed with thumping bass, and the air clung heavy with teenage pheromones and regretful decisions waiting to happen. She, of course, was above it all – a queen bee observing her hive.

Her gaze scanned the crowd, searching for anything remotely interesting. Suddenly, she spotted her – Y/N, tucked away in a corner like a stray sunflower yearning for sunshine. Unlike the other girls, desperately vying for attention with their suggestive dance moves and clingy outfits, Y/N exuded an effortless cool.

Clad in a rumpled t-shirt and jeans, she sipped from a solo cup of water, an ironic halo of untouched purity amidst the spilled vodka and cheap beer. The way she held her head, the faint amusement curving her lips – it was like watching a lone wolf observing a pack of clumsy hyenas.

Intrigued, Regina glided towards her. As she got closer, she detected a hint of jasmine oil and the faint trace of worn paperback pages clinging to Y/N's aura – an intellectual oasis in a sea of predictable clichés.

Regina, the apex predator, couldn't resist the challenge. "Care to join the living, wallflower?" she drawled, the words laced with honeyed venom.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unfazed by the Regina George's presence. "Not particularly," she replied, her voice calm yet somehow holding the power to quiet the room. "It seems the living are doing a splendid job entertaining themselves."

Regina smirked, appreciating the subtle dig. Most girls crumpled under her gaze, but Y/N held her ground, her sharp wit mirroring her own. This was unexpected, a challenge.

"Suit yourself," Regina said, leaning against the wall beside her. "Don't tell me you don't enjoy watching the spectacle."

Y/N shrugged, her lips curving into a slight smile. "There's a certain humor in it, observing the desperate search for validation."

Regina laughed, a genuine sound that surprised even her. "You're not wrong. So, what are you validating tonight?"

Y/N took a sip of her water, gazing at the swirling lights. "Myself. By not participating in this charade."

Regina found herself drawn in, captivated by Y/N's quiet confidence. It was a stark contrast to the usual sycophants who surrounded her. "Charades are tiring," she admitted, a touch of vulnerability slipping into her voice.

Y/N turned to her, her eyes meeting Regina's with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "They are," she agreed. "But sometimes, they're all we have."

The unspoken connection hung heavy in the air, charged with a strange electricity. At that moment, the queen bee and the wallflower found themselves on the same wavelength, two islands of solitude amidst the teenage storm.

A slow song drifted through the din, and Regina, on a whim, extended her hand. "Dance with me, wallflower," she offered, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/N hesitated, then placed her hand in Regina's. Their fingers intertwined, warm and surprisingly comforting. As they moved to the music, a slow, tentative sway, the party faded away. It was just them, two souls yearning for something outside the charade, finding solace in a shared moment of understanding.

"Hey, Y/N, want to take a break from all this craziness? I know a spot where we can have some peace and quiet," Regina suggests, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Intrigued, Y/N nods, and Regina leads them through the pulsating crowd, expertly navigating the chaotic party scene. They reach a more secluded part of the house, away from the booming music and laughter. Regina opens the door to a private room, inviting Y/N inside.

The room is dimly lit, with a few candles casting a soft glow. Regina closes the door behind them, muffling the sounds of the party. The sudden change in atmosphere is palpable, and Y/N can't help but feel a sense of anticipation.

Regina smirks playfully, "Well, we've got our own little oasis now. No prying eyes, no judgment. Just us and a room to escape the madness. What do you say, Y/N?"

In the dimly lit room, Regina George's demeanor takes a flirtatious turn as she playfully approaches Y/N. The air becomes charged with a mix of tension and anticipation as Regina, with a mischievous smile, begins to make advances while maintaining her signature mean-girl edge.

"So, Y/N, did you come to the party hoping to be the wallflower, or were you just too scared to stand out?" Regina teases, her words laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Y/N, caught off guard by Regina's sudden change in tone, stammers a response, "I just don't care about that stuff."

Regina circles Y/N, a confident and assertive aura surrounding her. "Well, you're in luck because tonight, I've decided to make you my project," she declares, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

As the advances become more direct, Regina continues to walk the fine line between flirtation and mockery. She compliments Y/N's appearance while making snide comments, creating a confusing mix of emotions for Y/N. Regina's unpredictable behavior keeps Y/N on edge, unsure of whether to embrace the attention or be wary of Regina's underlying intentions.

In this shared space, Regina uses her mean girl tactics to both attract and challenge Y/N, creating a complex dynamic between them. As the night unfolds, Y/N is left navigating Regina's dual approach, trying to decipher whether there's genuine interest or if it's just another one of Regina's games. The shared space becomes a battleground of emotions, leaving Y/N torn between responding to Regina's advances and maintaining a sense of self-respect.

In the dimly lit room, Regina George leans over Y/N, her eyes fixed with an intense gaze as she grins mischievously. Y/N can feel the energy in the room shift, a mixture of nervousness and curiosity.

Regina's teasing tone continues, "Well, well, look who's blushing." Her words are accompanied by a playful smirk as she revels in making fun of Y/N's nervousness.

As Regina continues her taunting, she leans in closer, and with a sudden move, she places a few teasing kisses on Y/N's neck and jaw. Y/N's breath catches, a combination of surprise and the unexpected touch sending a shiver down their spine.

Regina pulls back slightly, still grinning, her tone a blend of mockery and allure, "You're easy to read, Y/N. Can't handle a little attention, huh?"

Y/N, caught off guard by Regina's bold move, struggles to find the right words. The room is filled with a charged atmosphere as Regina maintains her confident stance, reveling in the control she seems to have over the situation.

The shared space becomes a battleground of emotions, with Y/N torn between the embarrassment of Regina's teasing and the unexpected thrill of the flirtatious encounter. Regina, enjoying the game she's playing, continues to blur the lines between mean-spirited taunts and alluring gestures, leaving Y/N unsure of how to navigate this unexpected and complex dynamic.

The room's atmosphere intensifies as Regina George boldly places her hands on Y/N's thighs. Y/N can feel Regina's touch, sending a rush of mixed emotions through them. Regina, with a confident smirk, leans in and kisses Y/N deeply, the moment becoming charged with a blend of desire and defiance.

As Regina pulls back, she locks eyes with Y/N, a hint of challenge in her gaze. "I'm not hearing a no," Regina murmured, her words hanging in the air.

Y/N, still processing the unexpected turn of events, takes a moment to gather their thoughts. Regina's touch and the passionate kiss leave them conflicted, caught between the allure of the moment and a sense of uncertainty.

Regina grinned, hiking Y/N's jeans down her thighs, as Regina's fingers brushed against Y/N's sensitive spot through her panties, sending electric shockwaves of desire coursing through her. Y/N moaned softly, her hips moving subtly against Regina's touch.

"Have you ever been with a girl?" Regina purred, her breath hot against Y/N's ear.

"no," Y/N whimpered, their voice barely audible. "I want to be though"

With renewed confidence, Regina slipped her hand underneath Y/N's panties, pulling them down. "Spread your legs wide for me," she ordered, her voice husky with desire.

Y/N complied, spreading her legs wide apart, exposing her moistening folds to Regina's hungry gaze. Her heart raced faster as she awaited what would come next.

Regina's lips brushed against Y/N's neck, trailing kisses downwards toward her cleavage. She paused briefly, savoring the taste of their sweat and arousal. Then she leaned down, leaving kisses and bite marks on Y/N's thighs. She teased her breath against Y/N's heat, her tongue darting out to lick voraciously at Y/N's wet folds.

Y/N let out a sharp gasp, her hands reaching out reflexively to grip Regina's blonde hair. Regina continued to devour Y/N's pussy, sucking and slurping greedily, her skilled tongue probing deeply into every crevice. She alternated between rapid flicks and slower, teasing strokes, driving Y/N wild with desire.

Her hand snaked down to fondle and squeeze Y/N's ass, applying pressure wherever she felt most sensitive. Meanwhile, Y/N's moans grew increasingly louder, their body trembling with need.

"More," Y/N begged, her voice hoarse with pleasure. "I need more."

Regina chuckled darkly, her breath hot against Y/N's sensitive folds. "You'll get plenty of more," she promised, her words nearly growls of desire.

She increased the pace of her oral assault on Y/N's pussy, her tongue flicking faster and harder, seeking out hidden spots she knew would drive them mad with pleasure.

As Y/N's orgasm neared, Regina's actions became more frantic, her tongue working overtime to pleasure Y/N. "Cum for me, doll." she groaned, her voice rough with need.

Y/N screamed, her body tensing up in anticipation. Her muscles contracted tightly around Regina's mouth, her juices coating her face and mouth. Regina swallowed every drop, her eyes filled with satisfaction as she watched Y/N's orgasm wash over them.

"your pussy is so pretty," she praised, her voice husky with satisfaction.

Without giving Y/N time to catch their breath, Regina slipped two fingers into Y/N's wet opening, stretching her open further. "You're gonna cum so many times tonight slut," she murmured, her tone commanding yet laced with desire.

Y/N moaned, unable to resist the invasion. Her body adjusted quickly to the intrusion, accommodating Regina's fingers effortlessly. She arched her back, inviting more.

Regina obliged, thrusting her digits in and out of Y/N's tight channel, her thumb rubbing circles around her sensitive spot. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through Y/N's body, causing her entire frame to shake with ecstasy.

Despite being spent, Y/N couldn't help but beg for more. "More, please. I need more."

Regina chuckled darkly, her breath hot against Y/N's ear. "You're such a greedy little thing, aren't you?" She picked up the pace, her fingers moving faster and deeper. "I'm going to make you scream my name, Y/N."

Y/N's walls tightened around her fingers, signaling another orgasm building within her. "Regina! Oh fuck, Regina!" She cried out, her voice cracking with need.

With one final thrust, Regina's fingers found Y/N's G-spot, hitting it perfectly. A loud, primal cry escaped Y/N's lips as she came again, their body convulsing violently. Wave after wave of bliss washed over her, leaving them feeling completely spent yet still wanting more.

Panting heavily, Regina finally withdrew her fingers, allowing Y/N some much-needed respite. She sat back on her heels, admiring her work. "Tell me you want me to tie you down and keep going," she teased, her voice laced with satisfaction.

Y/N laughed weakly, their breath still uneven. "Don't think I wouldn't," they managed to croak out between ragged breaths.

Regina leaned back, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath. She smiled down at Y/N, a mixture of pride and desire shining brightly in her eyes. "Well, then maybe later," she teased, her voice still husky with desire.

Y/N, feeling emboldened by their recent encounter, decided to take matters into their own hands—literally. Reaching out, she trailed their fingers down Regina's toned stomach, stopping just above her exposed pussy. Regina's breath hitched in anticipation, her eyes widening in surprise. "Y/N…" she whispered, daring Y/N to continue.

Slowly, confidently, Y/N slipped their index finger between her own lips, savoring the taste of her own juices mixed with Regina's scent. With a smirk, they slid it downwards, tracing a path along Regina's abdomen before pausing just above her clitoris. "Is this okay?" they asked playfully, their voice still slightly slurred from their previous orgasm.

Regina swallowed hard, her heart racing faster than before. Her breasts rose and fell quickly, nipples hardening further in anticipation. "Yes, please Y/N," she managed to choke out, her eyes locked on Y/N's movements.

Y/N's finger circled around Regina's clit, teasingly brushing against her sensitive bud. Regina squirmed slightly, her hips moving unconsciously towards the contact. "More," she moaned softly, her voice laden with desire.

Y/N obliged, increasing the pressure and speed of their caresses. Her finger dipped inside Regina's wetness, exploring her depths slowly. Regina's moans turned into gasps of pleasure, her body arching upward in response.

As Y/N continued to torment her, Regina's breathing became heavier, and her chest heaved rapidly. "Faster," she begged, her voice raspy with need. Y/N complied, picking up the pace, her fingers moving in and out of Regina's tight passage faster than before. Regina's body trembled with each thrust, her juices coating Y/N's hand.

Suddenly, Regina's world exploded, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her body convulsed violently, and she cried out Y/N's name, her nails digging lightly into the bedsheets. Her pussy clamped down tightly around Y/N's finger, milking every last drop of pleasure from their ministrations.

Panting heavily, Regina finally regained some composure. "God, Y/N," she panted, her cheeks flushed crimson with shame and desire. "That was… incredible."

Her eyes were half-closed, filled with a mixture of satisfaction and wonder. "For never being with a girl, you damn sure know how to make one cum."

Y/N smirked, pleased with their performance. "glad you enjoyed it," she admitted, her voice still husky with pleasure. "Let's clean up a bit, yeah?"

After the charged moment in the private room, Regina and Y/N decide to rejoin the party, the energy between them lingering as they step back into the lively atmosphere. The pulsating music, laughter, and colorful lights greet them as they seamlessly blend back into the crowd.

Regina, surprisingly, has a softer and more genuine demeanor as they dance together, leaving behind the mean girl facade. The tension from the private room transforms into a shared connection, and Regina's playfulness takes on a more sincere tone.

[jintaka-hane]

The Date

Masterlist

Summary: You and Heat have your first task together: buying provisions in the village where you've just docked. To get the job done, you decide to wear a beautiful, light summer dress, something that will reveal your companion to be quite the gentleman and charmer. Notes: I'll be honest. The amount of time it has taken me to write this fic is not normal XDD Word Count: 2700+

"Someday, I'll take out a girl like that," said a young Heat, hidden in an alley, hungrily biting into a stolen loaf of bread as he observed elegantly dressed girls pass by.

"Don't tell me!" mocked one of his friends. "And let me guess! You'd treat her to ice cream?"

"Of course I'd treat her to ice cream," he replied so proudly that his group of friends erupted in laughter.

...

The years passed, and with them came the street gangs, the violent fights, and the Glasgow smile, causing this memory to fade from his mind.

******

That day was resupply day in the village. 

After the shout on deck announcing that you had just docked in the harbor, you hurried to get ready in your cabin, assuming Heat was probably already prepared. It was the first time you had been assigned a task together, and you didn't want to keep him waiting.

Your fingers began to sift through the different hangers in the flung wide open wardrobe in search of something light to wear. Summer had arrived on the islands, bringing with it hot, sunny days, so you needed something cooler than your usual outfit.

Discarding the leather jacket—too hot despite being sleeveless—along with the set of gothic corsets and harnesses, and the collection of dark t-shirts with spiked dog collars, your fingers halted on a hanger holding a much more delicate garment.

A few weeks earlier, Quincy had convinced you to buy a summer dress from a store that sold everything at half price. Lavender in color, with a sweetheart neckline and tiny embroidered flowers on the skirt, it was a garment you had never worn, partly out of embarrassment and partly because it wasn't the most suitable attire for the strict life at sea.

Holding it between your hands, you thought it was a shame for it to hang there unused. What if you wore it that afternoon? Oh, the crew would surely laugh at you when they saw you, but... it was cool and airy, perfect for high temperatures... and besides, the village seemed so peaceful and tranquil, with little risk of having to face a street fight. When else would you have such an opportunity to wear it?

You chuckled to yourself at the realization that you were making excuses to wear it, and slipped it on without further thought, completing the outfit with a pair of matching heeled sandals instead of your usual black leather boots.

As you stepped out onto the deck, everyone stopped what they were doing to look at you. Everyone except Heat, who appeared absorbed in reviewing the shopping list over and over again, seemingly unaware of the catcalls and wolf whistles that started to fill the air.

Slightly embarrassed, you hurried over, snatched the berry bag that Killer handed you, and turned to Heat, lifting your chin to meet his gaze, suddenly aware of how tall he was.

"Shall we go?" you asked, eager to disembark as quickly as possible.

The pirate with bluish locks lifted his gaze from the paper and blinked several times before looking you up and down. His face flushed pink, and before he could stammer a word, the shopping list slipped from his hands, falling to the ground right by your feet. Grunting, he bent down to retrieve it, unable to prevent his eyes from flicking a quick glance at the straps of your sandals, admiring how delicately they encircled your ankle bones.

"Uh, y-yes, let's go," he stammered, straightening up and brushing back the hair that had fallen across his face in cascades, his cheeks still tinged with a deep blush.

As he looked back at you, you were already descending the gangplank, teetering slightly in your heels. He slipped a hand into his pocket, discretely counted his allowance, then hurried to catch up with you.

"Behave yourself, Heat!" someone shouted from behind both of you.

*****

The port turned out to be a lively and pleasant place and Heat, once over the initial shock, seemed more animated than ever. He chatted incessantly, his bright eyes fixed on you, gesturing emphatically with his hands, and constantly making you laugh with his antics.

You moved through the picturesque streets, going from shop to shop, oblivious to how the passersby crossed to the other side of the street at the sight of him.

Your companion was constantly attentive to you, always gallantly holding the door open at every shop and insisting on carrying all the shopping bags himself.

On a couple of occasions, unaccustomed as you were to wearing heels, you stumbled on the shop's entrance step, and Heat caught you mid-air as laughter bubbled between you. The shopkeepers watched with curiosity, puzzled by the unusual pair you made.

Once you had finished all the groceries Killer had instructed, you moved on to the list of personal requests. You giggled together as you read items such as a can of blue paint, nail polishes, a trident sharpener, and a special shampoo that Heat eventually confessed was for himself.

It didn't take long to gather everything, but not wanting to return to the ship so soon, Heat suggested taking a leisurely stroll through the heart of the village to explore.

"Doesn't it bother you? You're loaded down with bags," you asked, concerned as you saw his fingers, white under the handles.

"No, not at all!" he chuckled carelessly.

You walked without haste, chatting more calmly after the earlier excitement of the day.

The village boasted a wide array of peculiar products you had never seen before, and each time you paused to observe them in the windows of closed shops, Heat took the opportunity to admire the reflection on your face, filled with curiosity.

Heat wished the evening would never end, but before you both knew it, the sun descended from the sky, signaling it was time to return to the ship.

Walking side by side and enjoying the tranquility of the streets in comfortable silence, you made your way back.

You could already see the harbor, the masts of the moored ships jutting out in the distance, when your crewmate halted silently, a smile touching his scarred lips. 

"Heat?" You stopped next to him, peering at him inquisitively.

Following his gaze, you saw a modest ice cream parlor at the end of the street. It was small, with a limited selection of flavors displayed at the entrance.

He looked at you, a small blush creeping up his cheeks once more.

"Do you want ice cream?"

A radiant smile lit up your face, like that of a little girl. 

"YES!"

"Let's go." He patted one of his pockets to double-check his allowance. "I'll treat you."

"Really? No need, Heat, I can—"

"Let me treat you, please."

You beamed at him, somewhat surprised by his sudden generosity. 

"Thank you so much!" 

As you approached the ice cream flavors display the vendor greeted you with a friendly gesture, his smile quickly vanishing when he saw your companion coming up behind you. 

There weren't many flavors to choose from, but the ones available looked delightful. Your eyes scanned the different options, hesitating over which would be the best.

"Psst, hey miss..." the vendor whispered in a voice only audible to you, watching warily as your companion bent down to eye the mint flavor. "Are you in danger?" 

You lifted your gaze and saw the man discreetly gesture toward Heat. Then, you bursted into laughter, amused as you watched your friend smile and point at the creamy, greenish ice cream with chocolate chips.

"Oh, no, no, he's with me."

Once each of you had your ice cream scoops nestled in a waffle cone, you slowly made your way back to the ship.

Since his hands were occupied with the bags, you carried both ice creams, pausing now and then to give him his, bringing it close to his lips while placing your other hand underneath to prevent spills—somehow, the ice cream seemed to melt remarkably fast near him.

This strategy worked the first few times, but eventually, it became impossible to avoid making a mess.

As you brought the cone to his lips, several treacherous drops fell from the corner of his mouth and rolled down to his chin. Without thinking, you swiftly used your thumb to catch them, briefly sliding it along the seam of his scarred lips, feeling the indentations of his scars. He jerked back, involuntarily withdrawing his head with an abrupt movement, surprising both of you.

Immediately, you pulled your hand away, embarrassed for touching him without permission and realizing it was the first time you had touched his scars. How foolish of you; perhaps it hurt him, or perhaps he found it unpleasant for someone else to touch them...

“F-forgive me, I didn’t mean to-” you began, visibly ashamed.

"It’s okay," he cut you off, cursing himself for his own reaction and for scaring you away.

You both continued walking in silence, the only sounds on the street being the rustle of your dress, and the click of your heels against the pavement.

Heat's thoughts were consumed by the gentle brush of your fingers against his scars, the sensation of your touch replaying in his mind over and over again.

"Heat…" you decided to break the silence. 

The pirate glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, seeing how you hesitantly held out your waffle cone toward him.

"Do you want to try mine?"

He halted beside you, his fists gripping the handles just a bit too tightly. 

"Um... yes."

As he bent down and your hand approached his mouth, his heart started racing. His lower lip trembled as he tasted the sweet flavor you offered him, and his gaze drifted to your fingers, observing how they carefully cradled the ice cream. How had he never noticed before how delicate they were? He studied them, noting the shape of your nails, barely maintained due to your lifestyle, yet still elegant and beautiful.

"Do you like it?" you asked.

He remained lost in your hands, his eyes admiring the smooth, velvety skin of your wrists, so close to his lips that he could almost kiss them…

"Heat! Can you hear me?" you laughed, giving him a friendly tap on the chest to get his attention. "Do you like it?"

"Yes..."

*****

It was already nightfall when you returned to the ship. 

After climbing the ship's staircase, you headed to the pantry, which was warmly lit, echoing with the voices of your crewmates from outside. 

"Oi!"

“Welcome back!” They greeted you cheerfully.

Heat dropped the heavy bags on the table, grabbed a few bottles of booze, and turned to stow them in a cupboard.

"Well..." Quincy began, glancing sideways at your dress while pretending to inspect the groceries, "how was the date?"

Heat's back muscles tensed, his hands freezing with the bottles held mid-air, as he listened attentively to the conversation behind him.

"The date?” You laughed, grabbing a couple of apples and placing them in the fruit bowl. “I haven't had any dates. I can't remember the last time I had one."

Quincy hummed. Her eyes moved from the tense, motionless posture of the tattooed pirate, to the vivid color in your cheeks.

"Well, that's a shame... you're gorgeous. And you look especially lovely tonight," she raised her voice to make sure everyone could hear.

"Oh, Quincy, stop it! You're going to make me blush even more."

"But you really are!" she pulled you into a hug from the side. 

You returned the hug, then focused on organizing the provisions, working in silence while your friends chatted around you.

*******

Back in your cabin, you sat on your bed reflecting on how the day had gone.

It hadn't been bad; you had quite enjoyed yourself.

Surprisingly so, considering it was just a day of shopping.

You lifted your feet to untie the straps of your sandals and rotated your ankles, stiff from the forced position of the heels. Barefoot, you rose from the bed and stretched your arms above your head to reach the zipper that fastened the dress at your back.

Knock, knock, knock.

A soft tapping on your door caught your attention, so faint that you mistook it for the usual creaking of the ship’s wood.

You grumbled, trying to make the zipper budge when the tapping came again, this time with more determination.

Knock, knock, knock.

With your dress half-open, you walked to the door and opened it, revealing the towering figure of Heat standing on the other side.

"Hey, Heat?" You greeted him.

The pirate looked at you in silence, his shyness causing his eyes to drop to the floor, landing on your bare feet. He quickly looked back up, a rosy hue spreading across his cheeks.

"Heat, do you need something?"

"I had a great time today," he blurted out.

"I did too," you offered him a smile.

Running a hand through the untamed waves of his bluish hair, he continued.

"A-and I was wondering if you… well, it's completely understandable if you don't want to. It's fine, really, if your answer is no, but…” He propped his tattooed elbow on the door frame, trying to strike a seductive pose, “would you like to go back to town tonight?"

“Oh!” you exclaimed. "Did we forget to buy something from the list?"

He blinked at you, his heart sinking like a dead weight into the depths of the sea. 

“No, no, we didn't forget anything,” he assured you.

You looked up at him. "Then?"

"It's just that... I was thinking…” he began to fidget with the laces of his vest, “maybe we could go to town to have… dinner?" 

He ended the sentence with a questioning tone, wincing at how awkward he sounded.

"Dinner?” Your face lit up, suddenly realizing how hungry you were. “I could have dinner! When do we leave? Are the others ready?"

Heat couldn’t believe how difficult this was turning out to be.

"NO. No, the others wouldn’t be coming."

"...oh," you said, awkwardly. "...OH.”

He kept his gaze fixed on you, and his eyes studied your reaction as it all clicked into place for you.

"... so... it would just be you and me? Like—"

"A date, yes," he confirmed, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

How could you have been so silly? There was nothing you wanted more in the world than to spend more time with your striking, blue-haired crewmate. The corners of your mouth lifted, your eyes sparkling as you gave Heat the most beautiful, thrilled smile he'd ever seen.

"Yes! Of course I'll go! I'd love to go back to town with you!"

Heat let out the longest breath, and something about the gesture made your heart melt.

“Just..." you remarked as you realized you were barefoot and with the dress halfway off, "...give me a moment to get ready, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded.

The moment you closed the door, he punched the air in quiet triumph, a satisfied grin stretching from ear to ear as he made his way to the deck, where he would wait for you for the second time that day.

Perhaps, if the evening unfolded well, he might gather the courage to hold you in his arms... and perhaps, if you allowed him, he could show you how much he had loved the feel of your skin against his scars.

..........................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail <3

[munsons-melody]

putting the x in sixx

summary: you and eddie go to a party in LA where your old celebrity crush, nikki sixx, starts to hit on you

pairing: rockstar!boyfriend!Eddie x female!reader

cw: mentions/insinuates sex, mentions of alcohol, etc, established relationship w eddie, little smutty towards the end

recommended song: girls girls girls by mötley crüe

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i wrote this after i watched the dirt last night, also not proofread at all :)

requested? no

masterlist

part 2 can be found here

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

——

you looked at yourself in the mirror, admiring your new outfit... leopard print pants with a black corset top, your hair teased and hair sprayed to the gods, and your usual makeup, only with a little extra here and there

"hey babe we should probably get a move on cause-" eddie stopped in front of the bathroom door, giving you a look up and down and finishing with a wolf whistle

"jesus" he breathed out, leaning on the door, staring at your outfit causing a small blush to creep up on your face

"you like?" you asked sheepishly, already knowing his answer

you often didn't wear scandalous outfits like this, opting for the most basic t shirt, jeans, and your lived in reeboks that never got a day off but now that you and eddie were out of hawkins for the week as corroded coffin were playing shows at the sunset strip in LA, you figured you'd get less stares wearing an outfit like this

"i love" he purred, stalking closer before locking his lips with yours into a passionate kiss, his hands gently cradling your face as his tongue slipped into your mouth and your hands snaked up to his neck

he started trailing down your exposed neck, and you smiled, knowing what he wanted to do instead of heading to this party gareth heard about and was very persistent in everyone attending, hearing rumors of other rock gods showing up

"eds, as much as i know you'd rather stay here and do this, we really have to get going" you giggled, and he stopped kissing, leaning his head on your shoulder

"do we have to?" he mumbled, his voice vibrating into your chest

"gareth wants the whole band to go with just incase anyone cool happens, hey who knows maybe you'll run into mick mars or kirk hammett" you laughed

eddie moved his face to meet yours, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you in, almost like he'd lose you if he let you go

"already checked, metallica is playing in ohio tonight so slim to none chance I'll see kirk" he said, leaning in for one last kiss before he unwillingly pulled away, walking over to his bag and slipping on a old cut up band shirt and fixing his studded belt

"eddie" you groaned, checking yourself one last time in the hotel mirror, seeing your lipstick smudged

"what" he replied with the same annoyed tone you had

"you ruined my lipstick" and he let out a small laugh

——

the car ride from the hotel to a massive mansion was fairly short, and you, along with the rest of corroded coffin, stumbled out of the car onto the driveway that you were sure could fit 10 of you and eddie's shared apartment

the music from the house was blasting and you wish you knew half these people, or whos house this even was but alas, you were just as clueless as the boys as you walked into the mansion

people were everywhere, you couldn't walk more than 2 feet without seeing a drink or bottle of alcohol, music was blaring, the lights were nice, adding to the ambience of a party

eddie grabbed your hand, lacing together your fingers as he motioned a "come on" and you followed, leaving jeff, dougie, and gareth to themselves

you and eddie walked to the giant kitchen, where you heard a voice yell "oh my god, are you eddie munson?" eddie immediately turned to where the voice came from, seeing tommy lee and nikki sixx leaning against a table, drinks in their hands

eddie looked at you with wide eyes, suppressing a giant smile which showed a mix of "oh my god they know who i am" and "oh my god they know who I am"

"go" you whispered, lightly nudging your boyfriend towards the two rockstars

he let go of your hand and headed towards them, and they greeted eddie like they were old friends even though they'd never met before in their lives

they immediately started into a conversation, you only heard bits and pieces but it was all shop talk about guitars solos, tour dates, etc.

you took this time to get a drink, walking deeper into the kitchen

you saw an opened pack of beers, and grabbed one out, opening it on the side of the counter (a helpful trick eddie taught you a few years back), and took a few sips, admiring the amount of people at this party and listening to the songs that were playing in the background, barely heard over the amount of people talking

you went to take another sip when you felt a presence next to you, and you look to your left to see none other than nikki sixx

dumbfounded that your old celebrity crush of a few years was standing next to you, you stuttered out a hello and he smiled

"y/n... right?" he asked and you nodded, a taken aback and confused look writing onto your face as he held his hand out to shake yours

"eddie told tommy and i about you just now, thought i'd come say hello" he said with a smile, leaning against the counter and inched closer

"well hello," you said, however, your voice moved faster than your brain processed, and it came out more flirtatious than you intended

maybe it was the subconscious part of your brain that was excited the guy you fantasized about before you met your boyfriend was in front of you, but now all you could think of now was showing him you weren't interested and that eddie was all you cared about

"so eddie's a pretty cool guy.." he said and you looked over at eddie who was engaged deep in a conversation with tommy, a drink in both their hands

you looked back at nikki who took a swig out of a jack daniels bottle he held in his left hand

"yeah, he's so cool i've been with him almost 4 years" you joked, awkwardly taking a sip from your beer

"you ever think about expanding your horizons?" he asked, the flirtiness in his voice increasing

"expanding to what?" you laughed, brushing off the awkwardness and hoping your heart rate would slow down

"to the room upstairs, there's a perfect little balcony overlooking the beach where no one can hear us...." he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck

"or see us... me fucking you senseless, my grip on your waist as my thick cock pumping in your tight little pussy, making you scream my name" he finished, leaving a hot, open mouth kiss on your neck under your ear

you felt a few shivers go down your spine, along with heat traveling to your core as a blush spread across your cheeks as you turned to face him

if this was a few years ago, before you met eddie, you wouldn't care that you'd be just another girl in the millions of his roster, you'd be halfway naked in the kitchen on your knees by now

but it wasn't a few years ago, this was now and even though you had the one man you had the biggest crush on literally beginning to have sex with you, but you also was dating someone you had an even bigger crush on

"i- i can't" you stuttered out, looking up at eddie and moving alway from the grip he had around your waist

it was like eddie could read your mind cause he turned around to see you with nikki, and him and tommy came sauntering over

eddie immediate wrapped an arm around you, pressing against your back and pulling you close, causing nikki to stand up straighter next to tommy

"what were you two chatting about?" eddie asked with a smile and nikki shrugged

"not much, just getting to know one another" nikki said, sending you a wink

"holy shit you're mötley crüe" you heard jeff say as him, gareth, and dougie walked up to tommy and nikki

"well half, you guys must be the rest of corroded coffin, right?" tommy asked, extending his hand to fist bump the boys and they all nodded excitedly

"hey while we're all here, let's talk tour dates, we've seen a show or two, and we need an opener" tommy said, extending an arm around nikki and gareth, walking off to where there was an opening on one of the couches, leaving you and eddie by yourselves in the kitchen

you turned around to look at his face, gently holding it with your hand as his arms wrapped around your waist

you kissed him gently and he kissed back, eventually pulling away with a smile

"uh, i just wanted to tell you, nikki hit on me... just now... when you were talking to tommy..." you told him

"oh wow..." he said, trailing off, looking over at nikki then back at you

"well, they always say don't leave your girlfriend alone around motley crue... i guess that actually is true" he chuckled

"yeah, but... he did tell me about this private room upstairs, incase you feel a little jealous and want to take it out on me" your voice again travelled faster than your brain as eddie's eyes darker, a smirk crawling up his face over his lips

"well what did he say exactly?" eddie asked, pulling you in closer and slowly moving his hand down your lower back

"something about screaming his name while he's fucking my tight little pussy-" you cut yourself off, kissing eddie

he pulled away, your foreheads touching

"did he get you all worked up? huh pretty girl?" he asked, staring to move his hips against yours and you whimpered out a yes when he suddenly stopped his movements

"i can't have you hot and horny for some other guy now can we? i guess i have to show you who can make you feel really good not some doped up rockstar who can’t please you the way i can..." he said again

you just nodded at him, staring, feeling like if you take your eyes off him, you wouldn’t get your release

“let’s take this upstairs, shall we?” he asked, extending one hand to yours and his other to one of the bottles of alcohol sitting on the counter opposite of him

you started to head upstairs when mick mars walked up to the two of you, stopping your path upstairs

“hey eddie, right? nikki was telling me all about you!” he said enthusiastically

“later mars, i gotta please my girl” eddie said in a rush, and the two of you ran upstairs to the bedroom

fin.

[aestheticaltcow]

High School

Carmy didn't like high school, but he liked you. When you asked him to speak to this year's graduating class about being a chef, how could he not say yes?

The Bear Masterlist

Carmy was quiet and shy; he didn’t do great in school but managed. If it weren’t for Mikey, he wouldn’t have left the house much. On the other hand, you were the classic popular girl- beauty, brains, prom queen, student council president, and, of course, way out of his league. 

He couldn't believe it when you’d asked him to speak at your high school career fair. It had been years since he’d been in Chicago, but Carmy assumed you’d moved on to bigger ponds by now, so to hear you were president of the alum board was a surprise. 

“Okay, next up, we have Carmen Berzatto, part of our 2009 graduating class. He is one of the youngest chefs to win a James Beard Award, owns two restaurants here in Chicago, and is a three Michelin star chef. Everyone welcome Carmen!” you happily introduced. Carmy swallowed, feeling awkward with so much attention on him. As the two of you passed by each other, you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. As you sat down, another alumni board member whispered, “He got so cute…” to you. You bit your lip to suppress the giggles. Tight white t-shirt, patchwork tattoos, and disheveled curls… you’d always thought Carmy was cute in a ‘shy guy’ way, but wow… 33 looked good on him.

Carmy answered a few student questions, trying his best to avoid stuttering in front of everyone. You lost track of time as you listened to his velvety smooth voice as he explained some of the roles you’d see in a typical fine dining restaurant; you glanced at the time on your phone and realized he’d gone over his allotted time. You got up and stumbled slightly before getting up to the stage. Carmy noticed and said ‘thank you’ before handing off the mic.  “Okay, everyone, it's time to head out to the quad. Vice Principal Shore will be out there to direct you to our variety of college and vocational school booths, and if there are any alumni you’d like to speak to more, we’ll be out there too.”

You watched Carmy sneak out of the multipurpose room, “Hey, you guys, go ahead. I have to call Wolf’s dad.” you said to another alumni board member and watched as students exited the building. You walked outside and quickly picked up on the smell of cigarette smoke. “Carmy,” you giggled before following the scent behind the building. 

“Still smokin’ ciggies behind the mpr Berzatto?” Carmy shook his head as he let out a puff of smoke in the opposite direction of you, “You here to bust me?” he asked, leaning against the fence. Your heart fluttered. Did he know how cool and sexy he looked in that moment?  You shook your head. “Thanks for coming, Carmy. It was nice seeing you.”. Carmy grinned. “You-uh, you wanna get a coffee sometime?” he swallowed, hoping not to come off as a loser. “You’re very handsome and successful, Carmy; you don’t want to date me.” “Why’s that?” Carmy asked as he ashed his cigarette before throwing it in the trash can. You stood there with your hands on your hips, awkwardly rolling on your heels, “Well, I have a kid and uh… an ex-husband. I’m a workaholic, and I spend a lot of time worrying about my kid.” Carmy nodded “I like kids, no ex-wife, also a workaholic…Let me take you out on one date?”

[thissortofsorcery]

A little more Witch!Steve and Werewolf!Billy pspspspspspspsps

It’s juicer this time

—

"Billy? What the hell happened?!"

Steve has said these words before, in a variety of tones and levels of exasperation, but now they ring out to the open sky with a sharp note of desperation.

Billy's bleeding in his backyard.

Steve kneels down beside him where he's slumped over one of the lounge chairs, arms akimbo and on his side. There's a faint whistling sound when he breathes. Steve hasn't really been trained in healing past the basics, nothing like his mom was, so he doesn't know exactly how bad it is. He just knows it's bad.

"Billy?" Steve says, voice trembling to match the hand hovering over Billy's head. Billy doesn’t answer, hasn’t answered this whole time, and Steve is starting to panic. “Billy, come on!”

Billy starts awake when Steve’s hand lands on his shoulder, flinching away and immediately groaning in pain. But he relaxes when his eyes settle on Steve, bruised and swollen as they are.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Billy slurs, making an attempt at a smirk. It comes out more of a grimace.

“Billy, what the fuck,” Steve says. He can’t see where Billy is injured in the position he’s in, but even his denim jacket is stained a horrible, dark red. “Let me see.”

Steve tries to move Billy onto his back, touching him gently; perhaps more gently than he’s ever touched anything, even Nancy. Still, a thin moan of pain escapes from Billy’s throat, and Steve bits his lip so he doesn’t start yelling his head off. He needs to keep cool right now, or he won’t be any help to Billy.

He has the awful urge to vomit when he sees Billy’s front; what’s left of his white t shirt is soaked through with blood, and it’s in ribbons. So is his abdomen.

“How did this happen? Talk to me, man,” Steve pleads, touching Billy’s chest with a careful hand. It’s the oddest thing, though, barely any blood stains his fingers when he shifts, as if the blood is almost dry. Like the wounds aren’t fresh.

Steve’s never seen Billy with wounds older than, like, fifteen minutes. He heals fast, even for a wolf.

“You should see the other guy,” Billy mumbles. It sounds like bullshit.

“Billy, why aren’t you healing?” Steve asks. “I’ve seen you heal a broken leg in two minutes, man, what the fuck.”

“I’m fine,” Billy grunts. Then he tries to push himself up, like he’s going to try to leave.

“Stop doing that, dickhead, you’re gonna make it worse!” Steve snaps, trying to keep Billy still. They stare each other down for what feels like eternity until Billy huffs and lies back down. “You’re obviously not fine.”

“I’m gonna heal eventually,” Billy insists.

“Before you bleed out? Or can you heal from that too?!” Steve says, voice ringing sharply in the open yard. “Tell me what happened so I can help you! Are you poisoned? Why aren’t you healing?”

“It was just a fight,” Billy says, but he doesn’t have the energy to make it sound like the truth.

“Yeah, with a fucking dinosaur apparently,” Steve grumbles, while trying to push Billy’s clothes away to get a better look.

He looks awful. He looks like he should be dead. For a moment, Steve feels hopeless; he doesn’t know enough about healing to fix this, not if there’s anything in Billy’s system that’s keeping his own advanced healing from kicking in. Steve feels terrified, and young, desperately wishing his mom was here. She’d know what to do. But she’s out of town.

Steve can’t leave Billy like this. He’s gonna have to do something.

“Okay, I can do this,” Steve mutters under his breath, taking a deep breath.

—

Then something happens, I haven’t thought about a magic system yet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ don’t kill me

[valeovalairs]

wait are you still doing requests??? uhhh

william wisp wearing one of those stupid wolf T-shirts

your art is super cool btw!!! i see it all the time so i have no idea how i didn't notice I wasn't following you lol. but now i am 🔥🔥

uhhh if you don't wanna do that prompt thennnn gillion n pretzel like playing chess or something

aww thank you!!

Here you go, as requested!

[joannasteez]

the aftermath

pairing: tattooist!cm punk x reader warning: mentions of needles, and biting, and explicit descriptions and dialogue pertaining to sex. tattooist!punk (this warning is more for me cuz he makes me delusional sometimes) authors note: nothing really. just enjoy! if so, don't be afraid to let me know! inspired by @kill-the-artiste master class in ✨tension✨… please go read. RUN NOT WALK! word count: 3500 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling @2-muchsauce

in for a penny of pain, in for a beauty by the pound

@ WARNING: all work is of quality but more importantly is done with respect to the bodies health and limits

the way your apartment window faces, you never get the sun till a ways after high noon. so no. this isn't your apartment. exhaustion playing in your legs. a good, sated, tired ache. like if you bend or extend too much too quick they'll cave in and collapse without warning. they'll remind you of how horrible it is, to make assumptions about a perceived strength. especially when it's so obvious that you aren't ready to leave the cool touch of his sheets. his. oh shit. because the bedroom in your apartment doesn't get much sun with the way it faces and it for damn sure isn't cream colored and littered with wood framed portraits. memory like a teasing trickle in of rain. little droplets collecting—his teeth grazing, the patient mischief of a wolf, sinking in to pull skin���till they ripple and pool together. a throb of something journeying to live between your thighs, swirling till it breaches skin again in an effect to make you shiver, to make you shift against the sheets because he,—"you can't stay still for shit can you?"—that's what he'd said. making rough impressions in your thick soft skin. holding and groaning and amused. buried amidst the pillow of your inner thighs, eager tongue dipping to lick against the desperate pulse of your clit. whimpers and moans and near shrill begging, and—oh God—your stomach swirls. embarrassment this deep exhale as your head falls in your hands. 

and for a second, the world plummets into something disgusting. a disturbing shade of gray. laughter breaking beyond the crack open of the bedroom door. because he could be laughing at you right? mulling over and recounting the events of the night with a buddy and having a go at making you miserable enough to delight in some fucked sort of amusement at the helpless way you moaned and teared for him. but thats not what it is. it's quiet chatter and early morning comedy. little hums of his early day coarse voice and a bold, earthy warmth. coffee. your mouth watering and the emptiness in your belly going about a great terrible violence as it growls and shudders. a hickory note of something twisting the air, the back of your throat dry, and seemingly—well...not seemingly, because that sort of implies some lack in surety. you'd made good, disgusting, honest, work of voicing just how much fun you were having. that much you remember, and fortunately, you remember everything. alcohol forgone for the sake of lucidity. because you know what he is. a buddy of yours just as clean and straightedged. 

in a fuller state of honesty, it'd be accurate to say it was all like form of reverence. an eagerness to please. anything if it meant him peeling your jeans off quickly. and yes, he'd done it. but it was more patient than you'd wanted. like he was reciprocating that reverence. studying and planning. 

his dresser draws are wooden, much like the rest of his decor. a polished mahogany that brings more warmth to the room. 

rolled up t-shirts sorted in no particular fashion, the fit of it snug as it falls over. 

at the corner foot of the dresser lays last nights underwear. a predetermined pick. simple, and black and lacy. nearly tattered to bits because his patience had eventually reached a max capacity before he dove headfirst into being a damn brute. 

underwear is a hot commodity when you ball on a budget. he owes you. 

you sift for something reasonable. a checkered pair of boxer briefs that fit more like boy-shorts, but it works. slipping your jeans over them. and his bathroom isn't so much huge but it is lived in. comfortable. the tiles, a sage green with minor cracks made more from age than from some man made disruption.

and thank God almighty. he's not the three-in-one type. a wash cloth and a toothbrush laying lonely along the bathroom counter, separate from the other things. you hum. going about a quick wash up. 

and whats that saying? it's only awkward if you make it awkward. because hell, there was nothing tricky or particularly delicate about fucking your tattooist right? you could do a small stint away. go cold turkey from your favorite past time. a silent walk of semi-shame and a few months till your next appointment would do the trick. enough time to forget such a destructive allure living with his words and the way he said—"you been waitin for this for a while huh? so pretty, lettin me touch you"—things. his every expression an accusation. exposing the unspoken things living behind just barely placid eyes. desires, fantasies and half baked plots for his attention.

the pain of a needle is no worser than this. cant be. cant be worser than the creak of the floors, announcing your entrance to the kitchen. his little chuckling smile forming less loose and more attentive as he drinks you in. an unabashed performance of observation that makes the skin crawl. a shiver really. green eyes cool, heavy, and exacting, like metal. like the prick of his needles. wandering with ease—your jean dressed legs, a clinging t-shirt that rides up some as you walk and the slow but sure appearance of indentations about your neck that indicate his penchant for tasting, biting —while stuck between a casual, early morning call and your performance of feigning indifference. 

he hums. a response to whoever is holding him over the phone. tongue slipping over his bottom lip before he's turning back to the stove.

coffee sits in a mug littered with dog breeds. the steam of it curling up thick. a plate half dressed next to it. just finished buttered toast and still hot eggs. his arm reaching over to drop bacon on it. teeth baring as he laughs into his call. flits of his eyes that motion for you to eat. stationing to lean against the long stretch of marble that makes up the kitchen island. a focused attention. assessing your quiet take to indulging in whatever this is. because he didn't need to make you breakfast, didn't need to brew you coffee and leave you comfortably tucked in the sheets. but then again, he'd more than generously put you to sleep. wore your nerves and bones down. rendered you to a bout of tears even. yeah. he owes you breakfast. your fork digging into the eggs. and a new pair of damn underwear. 

"yeah, i need you opening up shop for me today...", he gives. a sweet, feminine voice sighing deeply over the other end. loud and long enough to reach you. something in your stomach swirling odd and quite disgusting. sharp and twisted up. "...i'll be a little late, got caught up in something this morning...", the folding over of the words along his tongue giving your skin a chill. a ride of a shiver up your back. his eyes slipping over your face. a pale green leaving their edged, assessing, impressions. "...i owe you one...alright...", his thumb tapping the screen to end the call. 

the bacon is salty on the tongue. satisfies the nothingness on your palette. your fork poking dumbly. like you'll find brilliant words amidst the plate. a sick little smirk on his mouth. loving your inability to look at him without wavering. 

why in the absolute hell did you fuck this man? the fit of his boxer briefs odd under your jeans. poorly shaped to hips and thighs, the material not made to take that kind of stretch. 

"you owe me new underwear...", that declaration of it too feathered. not strong enough. not sure. his lips spreading more. joy taking his face up wholly. feeling it as he casts his eyes over you. "...i'll send a receipt or something...".

"noted. how do you like to take it?"

excuse me? your throat drying up. fingers clutching the fork tight. your belly flipping stupidly quick. too damn excitable. 

"what?"

the mug of coffee he'd poured for you in his hand. the sugar jar close by. spoon ready to be used for it's stirring purpose. an elation pouring from his cheeks that makes you want to curl in. "coffee". a slow, near patronizing reiteration. "how do you like to take your coffee". 

"oh...", breath a little caught in your throat. the unsettled frenzy under skin an oddity. because this very regular, slightly older, very good looking, self assured man, shouldn't have such an affect. "..um...a little sugar, a lot of cream". 

and he does it to perfection. listens and performs. giving short flits of his eyes to yours. stirring and assessing. an appraisal. your neck heating from the sensation of being examined. satisfaction brightening him up at such rough handy work made the night before. smug fucking asshole. that curling scrape of the spoon against coffee filled porcelain winding up your curiosities to a nagging degree. sensitivities under the skin too plain and forthright to ignore. too well suited actually. like they've taken up a comfortable residence after just one night of being made pliant. had others felt this way once upon a time? sat where you sit now? being made by themselves to snuff out the disgusting giddiness of some post-night spectacle. a green, rotten, world of a feeling in the pit of your stomach now. 

"do you—...", finding the phrasing, forming properly on the tongue, "...you usually get caught up in... things...like this?" 

a scoff but it's fully amused. his lips spreading, a chuckle slipping into words. "is that a 'do i regularly fuck my clients question', cause if so then no". the mug sliding along the marble island. coffee prepped pluming thick still. "you're the first. congrats". 

this fucking guy. "oh?"  that bite of irony in him, troubling the skin playfully, as if to lure you out from behind that disconcerting wall you've so diligently built, in an attempt to evade him. his eyes and that little smirk he feels the need to keep along his mouth. "i didn't realize you were some sort of prize". 

his head tilts, gaze slipping up and over and about. appraisal again. the look you give at the arrival of an object of affection, desire after some time. a satisfaction born from the restoration of a familiar, comfortable thing. your jaw shifting soft as you chew. lips pursing over the mug to sip tenderly. a drip of coffee falling off and away from your mouth. his pace quick as he plucks a napkin to hand you.

"i mean...", his body leaning in against the island. elbows pressing to the marble to bring him closer. his hair a little messy and untamed. "...i don't think so, but you were lettin a lot loose last night. little noises and such. i figured you were just so happy and satisfied...", grabbing his own mug to sip from. delighting in the silence, in the astonishment his teasing is leaving you to settle in. "...felt like you'd won something". 

your cheeks are warm. hot even. stomach suddenly full off of his domestic efforts of a hot breakfast. your fingers gingerly pushing the plate away towards him, but the pull and roll of your eyes speak of something a little more heated than some gingered, cautioned disposition. his cockiness doing awful work. irking your nerves and reeling you in just the same. and maybe it's your turn to appraise. to examine and assess. his early morning, kitchen attire very obviously calculated enough to bring about some dead-brained, teenaged, short circuiting. chest shirtless and his legs covered in mesh shorts. arms tatted and muscled. grays and dark brown hair like a fine patch work on his face. admirable things of course, but you've already, obviously, given yourself away in revealing how much of it you find appealing. he doesn't need more. 

an attempt to bruise should work. if not successful, at least give it a go right?

"you were alright", you shrug. chest hammering, near implosion. his eyes casting down, daring for an evasion. "i give it an A minus. there's always room for improvement". 

"ouch", he laughs. a wide, bright, light expression. dumping your finished plate into the sink. "if i knew i was getting tested on performance, i'd have strove for higher marks...". sipping from his mug again. a head shake to express disagreement. "...but some of the judgement here is a bit range-less...doesn't really grasp the full effect of my—"

"dick?"

you stiffen just after the leave of it. a thought never meant to be expelled but here you are, fighting the urge to curl in and hold your head. heart beating terribly hard. embarrassment rife. 

"...capabilities...but now i see where your heads at. i think this is grounds for some rescoring. you're impaired". 

"by what exactly?" 

he hums. that head tilt again. "you were a little eager last night, which, given how long you been wantin and schemin, is very understandable, but those good, true bits of judgement are from how well you can savor it right? you gotta stop and smell those roses". 

you scoff. "scheming is a reach". 

his eyes roll. pushing off the edge of the island. "an observation". shuffling back slightly to make a bodies worth of space. his hand motioning. "come here". 

"for what—"

"please", like he's sweetening the give of a request. an appeal. like he knows just the chord to strum to produce the work of some easier follow through. 

eyes softer but exacting. a clever lure in. like last night. like when he fit and slotted his mouth against yours and breathed deeply. fingers gentler and patient, pushing in to soothe the quake of your thighs. your body undone beneath him. performing a beautiful release with the song of all those little noises he couldn't help but to bring up now for his amusement. palms slipping between your legs then for more. to spread and curl. a dangerously steady feed in, swirling along the tender beginning of your pussy. toying and prodding, suckling your neck, and then a knuckle deep stroke that sorely excites already sensitive nerves. your legs pressing in to trap him to a stillness. his mouth at your ear. hot breaths, your skin shivering. a kiss to the shell of it before his delicate "please". that manner of request unfolding your legs easy. the simplicity of it forcing you to moan for him as he'd sought to take more from you.

your thighs press together hard, memory bursting till its coursing along every bit of skin. but you don't make to indulge him. testing the waters of this defiance. because he's obviously looking to stretch some authoritative muscle. "open, spread, be still", those the tender taste of his commands filling your mouth as he kissed you last night, and in your daze you complied swiftly. as eager as he'd said you did. the whole of him used to control. used to finely straddling lines of danger and succeeding well. what with his needles and their sharp, biting impressions. so no, you don't move, letting the thickness of the air settle deeper. playing at a naive rebellion done only by fragile little prey thought invincible. because this is it, isn't it? the thing that gets him going. sets his bones hot and fingers achy. 

it's a finger over licks of a fire, a push of the limit after already being burnt to a beautiful consumption. your brows pulling. hands palming your knees tight. "you bite". 

he smirks. bares teeth. steps calm to cover the distance. the patience of a wolf. "only upon request". 

his island chair is one that swivels. a short creak breaking as you turn to face him. laughing breathy, wry, shifting in place, searching for comfortability under the weight of his presence. his hard body slotting between your thighs. coffee on his tongue as he nears, mouth ghosting shy. his nose slipping at yours. a hard swallow in your throat as you feel him press in to wedge you against the chair and the island. "i never asked", a little docility to your voice. adverting your eyes, closing them, to refuse his own, another small performance. something refractory. his chest warm as you press forward into him. a hot hand running up along your back till its situating to cradle your nape. 

"you didn't oppose". 

his teeth sinking in to pull at your bottom lip. sharp enough for an abrupt wince. attempting to pry yourself from his grip, that palm at the base of your neck strong. corrective. short breaths huffing into his mouth as he kisses your lip. a light play at a remedy. the affection of it sweet and dotting enough that you rush in for more, much to his sudden displeasure. his throat humming, the confirmation of some long standing observation. the column of your neck warm from the run of his free thumb. that slip of a touch shivering you whole. hands gripping into the waist band of his shorts. knuckles aching. a terrible make at reprieve.

"being skittish is just a natural little condition of yours huh?" 

"no". your voice airy. feathered for him. 

"so just with me then?...", skimming his mouth at your cheek. a simple kiss to the apple of it. "...cause i can't really give you what you need when you're all excitable and eager like this...". another lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth. "...need some patience".

a near unbreathable daze forms about your head. eyes dim. the scent of him filling your nose till its blooming in your lungs. fingers curling and sweeping and releasing along his skin. at old tattoos and taut muscle. a pulse at the heart of your thighs that teeters your nerves on the verge of inconsolable. his fingers squeezing perfect at your neck. a purr of a moan in your mouth. "what else do i need?" 

his mouth slots for a full kiss, done up with breath and purpose. your palms holding firm at his waist for stability as he pulls you in. "a little direction". his tongue peaking to slip. a lazy lick at yours. your breath hitching at the wet curl of it. lips parting to receive. smirking as you whimper against him. "don't need you gettin distracted, then all of your attention gets eaten up by trivial little shit. you start making the real poor decisions then". 

"like pepsi logo tattoos...", you muse. "...and fucking your tattooist raw...", a languid, tongue filled kiss. air harsh through the nose to make up for the overtake of his mouth. the slipping noise of it lewd to the ears. makes your skin hot. hotter. urges erupting sure. a fragile hiss playing off your mouth, his teeth finding refuge over your lip again. a grunted moan hitting the air. his hands tucked under your knees, rushing to pull your thighs in, body at the edge of the island chair. you feed your tongue in again. eagerness unabated. "...you're not the first man with too many gray hairs trying to be my handler...", a snicker thats more like a scoff. a teasing tug at the waist band of his shorts again. making to release him but never getting to it. his mouth at your chin and your jaw, nipping and licking into your neck. "...i make your dick harder just a little more than all the others so now you want to manage me? make sure no one else is gettin in on this huh?..."

he digs into your leg. a harsh pinch that makes you jerk into him. "i'd only be offended if you didn't like me so much, didn't wanna fuck me so badly", his nose knocking into yours again. a bruising kiss by the firm pull of his lips. "something tells me you like a little correction...", a hand keeps your thigh cinched to him and the other releases your other leg to journey near the zipper of your jeans. "...being commended". 

his middle and ring fingers venture between. a faint circling where your jeans cover over the throb of your clit. the pace and patience of his touching and his mouth quaking your bones. irritated with an eagerness he seems to want to handle so insistently. 

his phone rings. 

you whine in protest. the slip away of him abrupt and emptying as he fishes for the phone. 

"relax", he muses. kissing the corner of your mouth. 

but he answers anyways. settles into the call so much till his brows pull. a focus that leads into that faithful disappointment of having to prioritize. green eyes casting over. taking stock of your face. his thumb soothing your lip, just where he'd bitten. 

the emptiness grows, occupying this shitty liminal space. and it only gets worse. the neediness he'd corralled snuffed out quick. something about "forgotten early appointments" and "taking you where you need to go". 

there are many valuable little notes to give to the self. an unwieldy feeling under the skin as you make to get your belongings. going about a terrible attempt of acting like he wasn't just about to give you a three-peat of last nights little fun. so close to feeling all of him just meticulously fed into you. 

the biggest note of all though. toughing your shoes on. annoyance playing unabashed. don't fuck your tattooist. 

[yazmati]

do you wanna impress all your friends with your very cool and sexy fit? why not buy my t-shirt (preorder) !!

[toxycodone]

whats some dungeons meshi headcanons u got? owo? i totally believe Laois would be furry and into legos Cx

also i really enjoyed ur Ao3 fanfic about Laios x reader :D!!! I really agree with the way you write him :3

THANK UUU omg. I am gonna start with Laios because I have such a clear version of how he is in my head. I have nsfw hcs too but I’ll include them in a separate post if you want! These will just be sfw and more modern au geared

Laios is 100% a furry I…can’t even deny. he definitely sees himself as some like super cool timber wolf with icy blue eyes and platinum fur (or wolf/hunting dog mix) but everyone thinks he should be a Samoyed or something

he has multiple fursonas tho. one of “that” monster. maybe a dragon sona. he’s made up his own species to. may adopt sonas/species from artists he likes. yeah he’s a furry community veteran.

i never considered legos n Laios but. You’re so right. I think he’s more interested in the more complex nature setups or fandom ones. There’s definitely a half finished setup in his room at any given time (he gets super hyper focused on finishing them for like. a few days then kinda forgets until the next random fixation.)

he definitely has a dog that’s like. his best friend. he spends a ridiculous amount of time at the pet store or dog park or hiking w it

is a local game store REGULAR. he enjoys a lot of tabletop gaming like mtg, dnd, pokemon, and even digimon but in my mind he SLAYS at wingspan in particular. He has all of the extras and stuff. he has a group he loosely calls his buddies there that play with him time to time

not a huge video game fan though? I think he likes stuff like monster hunter and LoZ but like? I’m really unsure what else he’d be into. like yeah he likes monsters but like. he needs a specific genre….strategy based games are probably more his style. he may get into competitive pokemon tbh

no sense of style. Not in like a bad fashion way but like he just dresses extremely plain. Like he wears the most basic ass white boy clothes it’s ridiculous. He has a collection of silly t-shirts but that’s about as exciting as it gets. he believes socks and sandals go together. but somehow his hiking gear and jacket game is top notch. literally looks like ducks unlimited poster boy.

he grew up middle class but in a rural area. so he has manners and such but he’s kinda sheltered?? a little naive too but…he just has a big heart. He’s someone who believes in doing good even if like. There’s a chance you’re getting scammed.

ok that’s all the ideas I have now for gen hcs but tysm for the ask

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 4: Eddie

Word Count: 994

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

CW: Language

Summary: A collection of Eddie's reaction to different parts of the book A Court of Thorns and Roses. Inspired by those wives who filmed their husbands' reactions to the books and provided me with hours of entertainment.

@corrodedcoffinfest

A sigh and the closing of a book has you looking away from your own book and over at your husband on the other end of the couch. Your eyes dip down to Eddie’s lap where your copy of A Court of Thorns and Roses lays shut. A look back up at Eddie’s face, staring towards the carpet while in thought, gives you no further clues as to why he has stopped reading.

“What’s up, Eds?” you ask.

He lets out another sigh and drops his hands to the cover of the paperback that’s balancing on his thighs. 

“What the actual fuck?” he starts off. “Feyre kills a wolf—because apparently, she’s the only one supporting her family! So, it’s some faerie wolf and it’s supposed to be a life for a life kind of thing? But then this fucking creature busts down the door all viciously and then is like, ‘nah I’ll just have you come live with me instead.’ What?”

As hard as you try to contain your amusement, a small giggle slips out. You tilt your head as you look at your husband, confusion creased on his forehead.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, babe.”

“This book has some weird as shit names for creatures,” is how Eddie greets you when you step into the bedroom, just out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you. 

“Says the Dungeon Master,” you tease as you walk towards your dresser. “There are no demogorgons in that book.”

“No,” Eddie counters, “just the Suriel. Nagas. The Spring Court is a goddamn death trap! And that’s even before we met this other guy who I just know is gonna cause chaos in some way later. Rhysand. Dude seems dark and I can’t say I hate it.”

You focus on keeping your jaw clenched tightly as you change into one of Eddie’s old t-shirts. If this was the other way around, Eddie would’ve already slipped up and spoiled something as big as Rhys’s role in the series, but you knew watching this all unfold before you would be well worth it.

“Feyre is getting all the feels for Tamlin, too.” Eddie looks over and gives you a cheesy grin. “Is that how you felt about me when we first met?”

“No,” you say with an over dramatic sigh. “Maybe you should’ve barged into my home and whisked me away to a magical escape room and I would’ve. But you missed your chance.”

You sit down on the couch after dinner and it’s not thirty seconds before your husband has his head in your lap and gazes at you with those doe brown eyes. 

“Hello to you, too,” you say, immediately reaching down to play with his hair. 

“Lucien is a cool dude,” Eddie says. “I like him a lot. I hope he doesn’t die.”

“You’ll just have to keep reading to find out,” you tease. 

Eddie raises his arm in the air and it’s the first time you notice he has the book in his hand.

“Gonna start now,” he says. “I think some shit’s about to go down.”

It’s impossible not to watch Eddie’s face as he finishes up reading the first book. The man has always been one of the most expressive people you know and that includes while reading as well. His facial expressions provide grade A entertainment. 

Finally, Eddie closes the book and drops it on the couch cushion beside him. He releases a long breath, followed by an even longer inhale. 

“So Rhys did have reasons,” he starts, nodding his head as he speaks. “He wasn’t just the asshole we were led to believe he was. I actually think I like him the best. Tamlin’s alright and I do like Lucien a lot. But I felt more of a connection with Rhys.”

You listen to him, a smile on your face. The whole time he’s been reading the book you’ve been anxious to see what he’ll think of the end.

“A lot happens, doesn’t it?” you ask.

“Hits the ground running,” Eddie agrees. “Feyre’s tests were brutal. That worm maze was badass though! And I’m glad Amarantha is dead. God, what a bitch.”

“What part were you reading where your nostrils were flaring?” you ask with a giggle. “You looked pissed.”

Eddie thinks for a moment, then his head lifts and he snaps his fingers.

“That was when, ugh,” Eddie pauses, an irritated groan rumbling from his chest, “when Tamlin doesn’t do a fucking thing to help Feyre! Holy shit. Just sits there on the throne except when he gets to make out with her. Jesus Christ. If that were you, I would’ve been out of that goddamn seat and taking anyone down I had to to keep you safe.”

His impassioned words make your heart flutter.

“My High Lord,” you coo.

Your husband seems to like that, a smirk growing on his face as he noticeably looks you up and down.

“You know,” Eddie drawls. “I do have those pointed Elven ears. They could definitely be fae ears.”

Slowly, you push yourself up out of your chair and saunter over to the couch. Eddie leans back as you climb into his lap, straddling his thighs. 

“Eddie Munson, High Lord of the Hellfire Court,” you say, wrapping your arms around your husband’s neck. 

“Mmm,” Eddie hums, angling his head down to press a few kisses along your throat. “Maybe then you could wear the ears and be my Feyre, let me cover your body in paint.”

“Technically she was still a human at that point so she wouldn’t have the pointed ears,” you say softly into his ear. 

Eddie’s fingers dig into your sides, tickling you until a shriek squeaks from your lips.

“Had to ruin the moment with your nerd knowledge, huh?” Eddie asks with a playful smirk. 

A smug grin lights up your face as you answer him.

“About time you got a taste of your own medicine, Munson.”

[gabessquishytum]

Just found this chunky werewolf boyfriend Hob drabble that I wrote ages ago, so I tidied it up and figured I'd share! Check the tags for warnings <3

When the hunger gets bad, it really gets bad.

The odd thing about it is, Hob doesn't look hungry at all. He looks distinctly overfed, if anything. He's chunky at the best of times, holding a little softness on his body to compliment the naturally thick thighs and torso. But in the week leading up to the full moon, he's constantly full of food. He simply has no choice, because he's ravenous. His skin might be stretched and red, his stomach might be throbbing in protest, but it doesn’t matter. He's still hungry. He's up several times in the night, standing in front of the pantry, looking mournfully at the depleted shelves. Over the course of the week his t-shirts start to creep upwards, unable to contain his belly. He's softer than usual – literally. Clinging to Dream, nuzzling into him, cuddling up to him. It's really quite sweet, how he'll have one hand on Dream and the other buried in a big bag of dried fruit.

Of course it's not nice to see his darling practically starving, but deep down Dream is rather fond of those weeks. He likes to rest his cheek against the stretched, hairy belly and rub the sore spots. Hob is practically throbbing with warmth, and Dream secretly appreciates the sounds of the body underneath him. He likes to see the pink stretch marks nearly appearing in front of his eyes. Frankly, he just likes being close to Hob like this.

And as hungry as he is, Hob can always make time between snacks to curl his arms around Dream. To hug and kiss him, and make appreciative noises in response to Dream’s exploring hands. His body goes through so much in the process of transformation and Dream is honoured to be the one who gets to comfort him. Hob is so gentle with him, never resting any of his increased weight on Dream’s smaller frame. He's always blushing and apologising, even though Dream reassures him as much as possible.

He's seen the excruciating process of turning from man to wolf – Hob would never hurt Dream, even at full moon. In the form of a wolf, Hob is truly massive. His body stretches out, his muscles swell and grow, and fur coats every inch of his body. He ripples with an unrecognisable lean strength, and when he stoops down to nuzzle Dream’s head, he nearly knocks him over. Of course he also whimpers and helps him to get upright again.

And when the night is over, when the moon fades and the dawn breaks, Hob will be there on the doorstep in his human form again. Utterly depleted, shaking, with a good portion of the fat on his body burned away. His waist and face are hollowed out, and Dream sometimes barely recognises the tired twink of a man he escorts into the kitchen. No matter how shocking the transformation, he always keeps his cool – it's Dream's job to bring Hob inside and feed him up again. There's always breakfast on the table after the full moon, and Hob always eats it curled up in Dream’s lap. Dream feeds him every bite of his meal, and rubs every inch of Hob’s sore body down. He appreciates his lover at every size and every stage of the cycle. And he's looking forward to another month of domestic bliss.

The hunger isn't so bad, when you're loved.