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astroboots · 6 months

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Heatwave

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: Santiago and you try to occupy yourselves during another heatwave in Florida.

Rating: Explicit, edging, bratty-ass behavior from one Santiago.

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you)

Word Count: 4,000

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' masterlist

At what point does a spiking high temperature no longer count as a heatwave and just becomes the new average temperature for the local area. Is it after the third or sixth heatwave in a month? And for that matter, how many record breaking high temperatures can one summer have in store for a state that is already known for its hot climate?

Fuck! Why did he move back here again?

Santiago is melting. Lying slumped against the cool flooring of the bedroom where the breeze reaches. He's stripped off his clothes, wearing nothing but his boxers and staying far away from any walls because they are fucking radiating heat. At one point he's pretty sure he saw the edges of the walls wobble from the inferno temperature raging outside... either that or his vision is blurring out on him.

It must be what? 150 degrees, 200?? He doesn't care what the weatherman is reporting, there's no fucking way it's only 110 out there.

Leaning his head back down on the cold wooden flooring for reprieve, he can't remember the last time Florida got so hot. (If it has, he hasn't been here to see it).

Shit, it must be even hotter than that time you drove him down to the airport, what was it now, ten or twelve years ago? It got so fucking hot that the radio was warning about staying away from the highway because the tarmac was at risk of melting.

No one in their right mind would've gone out on the road that day. Except you of course. In your shitty little Volvo, with a broken A/C and a clutch that creaked with every change of gear. It's lucky the old piece of junk made it to the airport at all, and nothing short of a miracle that you made it there in time.

He can still see it in his mind's eye. The way your hair was matted with sweat as you pulled up to the drop off point. Still remembers how his old t-shirt was glued to every inch of his sweaty back as he peeled himself off the passenger seat. How, even as disgusting as the two of you felt, drenched in sweat and smelling like two dumpster diving raccoons, having been trapped on the highway for over an hour in that heat, you had held onto his torso as if you were never going to let him go. Your pinkie wrapped around his, so tightly, he was sure the blood circulation was entirely cut off as you told him in no uncertain terms: "You better fucking come back home in one piece, Santiago."

A smile breaks out across his face at the memory. From a distance he can hear the familiar sound of your footfall from the hallway, followed by your voice echoing all the way upstairs as you call out for him.

"Santiagoooo!"

If it wasn't for the heat, he'd call back in response to you. But all the strength is zapped out of him. Plus, he suspects that the reason you're calling for him is to rope him into helping Frankie with the latest crazy home project the man's set on finishing this weekend (and in this heat Santiago's not going anywhere near that).

"Honey." The endearing nickname has him smiling even wider. His mouth parts, just about to respond to you when he hears the rest of your sentence.

"Frankie needs help sanding down the fence."

Bingo.

No way in hell he's responding now.

He can hear you opening and closing doors all over the house in search of him. You'll find him eventually, but it doesn't mean he's not going to take his time enjoying the last few moments of being in the safe shelter out of the sun.

There's a soft click as the door to the bedroom opens. From his limited view on the floor, he sees glimpses of your feet from the corner of his eyes as you march in front of him until you're standing above, looming over his form.

"Santiago. I was looking for you everywhere."

He lets the hand resting on his thigh slide down to the front of his boxers without thought and that catches your immediate attention.

There's a sharp and sudden inhale from you, as if the air is spiked. You look like you've forgotten how to breathe properly.

You liked that huh? The corner of his lips curl into a smile as he holds eye contact with you.

"Sorry, must've dozed off."

"Har, har. Stop lounging around half naked and acting like a thirst trap. Frankie needs help with the fence."

"It's 200 fucking degrees. I'm not going to do that. Frankie can finish his home improvement project when Armageddon isn't happening outside."

You shoot him a small frown. Arms crossing in front of your chest.

He pats the space on the floor right next to himself, as he continues. “Come lay down with me for a second to cool down. You look like you might be overheating. Don’t wanna get heatstroke or anything. Frankie can wait a few minutes.”

You don't move from the spot, making no move to join him. "Poor Frankie is doing all the work."

Santiago's itching to retort that there's nothing "poor" about Frankie's situation. Man is having the time of his life out there. He loves doing these projects.

But Santiago keeps his mouth shut. Because he knows if he doesn't, he'll inevitable set you two up for a back and forth of who's right and wrong, who wins and who's losing the argument, trying to one-up each other the rest of the afternoon. And it's not that Santiago doesn't absolutely love doing that with you but...

Peering up at you, the way your lips are swollen with heat and parted as you look at him, Santiago has a much better idea of how he wants to spend the rest of the afternoon with you.

"Just a little bit, sweetheart," he says, doing his best to sweet talk you as he pats his free hand over the same spot on the floor in invitation. "Come sit with me for one minute, and I promise I'll go help Frankie okay?"

Glancing over your shoulder, you throw a quick glance over the window, probably to check in on Frankie.

"Just a minute, okay?"

"Mhmm. Just one."

It doesn't take more persuasion from him than that. Next thing he knows, you're walking over to him. Soft steps and an even softer gaze in your eyes. Then you sink down on the floor and sit down on the spot right where he patted.

That was... surprisingly easy.

He'd expected more resistance from you. Was fully prepared to do a filibuster marathon to try to convince you to join him. Hadn't quite expected you to just... give into him the way you just did. He blinks up in surprise, at your face mere inches away from him. He's not fully sure what just happened. You've never turned down an opportunity to put up a fight with him before.

You stare down at his chest and bare stomach, lingering there. You swallow down reflexively as you take him in with heated eyes.

Huh...

Santiago knows the effect he has on women. He just never knew he had that effect on you.

As arrogant as it sounds, he knows he's a good looking man. Knows that he's charming to boot. But the relationship between the two of you, for all the love that you had held for each other, had always remained platonic back in the day. You don't look at him the way other women do. And Santiago doesn't flirt with you the way he does with other women. Those were the unspoken rules you two had set for each other from the start and it's all you two have ever known.

And while things have changed now. While Santiago's seen the heated looks you give him when he's in bed with you, your relationship has remained largely unchanged outside of it.

You still pull him up on his bullshit when he's earned it. Never hesitate to square up with him in a competition for anything.

This... This is new.

He taps his bare thigh, almost experimentally to test his theory. He doesn't miss the way your pupils dilate with interest, and as always he can't resist the urge to goad you.

Not when you're eyeing him so appreciatively, in a way that you've never done in the past in all your years of friendships until recently. He figures he's earned the right after all this time to be a little bit obnoxious and revel and preen in the attention from you.

"Cariño," he calls out, until your eyes pulls back up to his face. "Eyes up here," he teases.

You roll your eyes, smacking him in the chest. It's supposedly a playful gesture, but you do it with enough strength that it knocks the breath out of him.

"I know," you retort, but your eyes drift back to his chest and then continue downwards and the attention has heat spearing through his limbs.

"You're still looking," he teases, and his hand snakes down over the plane of his thighs, reveling in your attentive gaze. "Didn't know you were such a perv."

By now you'd usually retaliate or cuss him out, but you don't.

Instead, you continue to stare, eyes blown wide as if you've been cast under a spell, mesmerized.

He palms himself through the front of his boxers, and he can feel the rush of blood rushing down and away from his head as his cock stirs to hardness. If Santiago was considered full of himself before this, it's nothing compared to how he feels in this moment with the way you're looking at him. Your expression blank, like the sight of him has made you lose your ability to speak. Mouth parted, the glistening pink of your tongue peeking out, as if you would devour him if he'd let you.

"Should I give you a show then?" he asks.

After all, if you want to look, he's more than happy to give you something proper to look at.

You nod with an eagerness that has your head bouncing up and down like the bopping bobble head toy Frankie keeps on the dashboard. Santiago lets out a laugh that's more breathless than he had expected from himself. He blames it on the heat.

Dragging down the edge of his boxers, he keeps his eyes on yours as his fingers wrap around the base of himself and his cock jumps in response to the touch.

Shit, that's good. A sweet spike of pleasure runs through him at the languid touch, and he feels breathless with it. His cock is slick with precome that drips down the length with each slide of his hand.

Running his hand up the rigid length, the calloused skin graze against the sensitive skin. Pleasure ooze and drips inside his chest and down his limbs, until his legs tremble with it. Santiago's touched himself countless times before but it's never felt like this before.

Maybe it's the heat that's getting to him. Or maybe it's the way you're inching closer with each passing second until you're practically straddling him on his lap. You and your soft and perfect thighs pressing down on his own, keeping him pinned onto the floor as he tries to keep going. The heat he can feel from between your legs, through the thin layer of cotton that's pressed onto his bare skin. Yeah... maybe it's that.

Santiago goes slow and languid as he touches himself for your benefit. And as ridiculous as it sounds it is for you. Because if it wasn't for you, there's no chance in hell he'd be going this slowly. He'd be fast and almost sloppy, squeezing down on his cock until the desperate need that's riding his spine lets go with his climax. If you weren't here, gorgeous eyes all focused on him, with a look that he wouldn't even let himself dream of in the past, he wouldn't want to prolong it the way he is.

Even now, with the strained effort of taking it as slow as he can possibly stand, he's not entirely sure how long he'll last. He feels like he's on a precarious edge, his climax taunting him, swelling up and simmering with a slow burn in his stomach.

Your torso tilts forward, squirming in his lap, with the tiniest movement every time his hand moves upwards, in time with his strokes.

You're practically riding his thigh, and Jesus fucking christ, that isn't helping Santiago's situation right now. At this point you're both going to come dry humping each other like horny clueless Mormons on their wedding night.

"Sweetheart, wait--" he tries, but you press yourself down on his thigh all the same, and he can feel your sweet slick drip down on his thigh and coat him with it. All he's capable of is a deep and shameless moan.

His cock twitches in his hand, and for several alarming seconds, Santiago thinks that's it. That it's already too late and he's going to come right then and there, spilling himself all over his hand and stomach.

Santiago squeezes down hard around the base of his cock to stave off the needy sensation.

"Shit," he hisses. "Fuck. fuck. Sweetheart, gonna need you to--" he doesn't finish his sentence. Can't spare the seconds it would take to properly think. One hand is already reaching out under your dress (thank god you're wearing a dress) wedging your panties to the side, his other pulling you closer by your waist until your pussy is lined up with the swollen head of his cock.

He doesn't even have time to move his hand in place to grip at his cock before you push down on him. Heat streaks through his insides until his lungs feels like they're burning. Your perfect pussy envelops all of him, every single throbbing aching inch with slick warmth and perfect pressure until his vision whites out.

Fuck, why is he so fucking sensitive.

He can't... fuck, he can't hold on. A desperate groan tears out of his throat and he buries his face into your neck to hide from the sensation that has him surrounded.

He thrusts upwards, canting his hips until you're taking all of him.

Pleasure singes his entire spine, and it burns him alive with it. The heat is unbearable, sweat is plastered to his back, but it doesn't matter. Santiago's skin is damp and sticky, but he's still pressing you closer. Wants every inch of you, warm and gorgeous and so fucking soft, pressed against him in every way he can have you, and he's still not sure if that'd be enough.

Wants to make up for every year, hour, minute and second that he'd wasted of his life, being away from you. Wants all of that even if it kills him.

Planting his feet on the wooden floor for leverage, he grabs your hips to force you down as far as you can take him. Until your head throws back with a high-pitched whine, palms pushing down on his chest as if it's too much for you to handle, and he lets go, sinking down his hips back towards the floor, until only the tip of him rests inside you.

He gives you a handful of seconds to catch your breath. Then he grabs your waist and push you down on his cock. Again, and again. To the gorgeous sounds of your keen moans and whines all blended into one, as you're sobbing out his name.

Forceful, deep thrusts that has tears pushing in the corner of your eyes. He keeps going as the sweet aching heat has him drunk and euphoric on you, with each and every rise and cant of his hips.

He's not going to last. Shit, shit, he's not going to last like this.

But that's okay. Because judging from the way you're grinding against him. Needy and desperate. Your cunt squeezing so tight around his cock it makes it hard to breathe, you're not going to last either.

His hand strays down below your stomach, sliding between your legs until his thumb catches at your clit, slippery and wet, and absolutely dripping for him. You sob at the contact, wracked in shivers as he continues to rub smooth little circles over it, and he can feel just how close you are.

You're perfect. Eyes squeezed shut, head tilted back in surrender, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat and oh fuck Santiago was not prepared for this.

His brain stalls out, hand stopping as his movements comes to a still to take in the sight before him because...You are so fucking beautiful like this.

"Santiago, what the fuck, make me—" you're slapping his shoulder, voice high pitched and desperate that makes his spine tingle as you grind on him. "Fuck make me cum, don't be an ass."

Fuck what is he doing?

Santiago's not sure. Not sure why he's stopped, even as every nerve and muscle in him is screaming for him to chase after the pleasure until both of you are coming.

Not sure why he's just sitting there dumbfounded. Except, this is everything he's wanted for so long that he's denied himself and he realizes that right now— it's here, landed in his very lap. You're the woman he's loved for so long, no matter how much he's denied it to himself, and he just wants to make this moment last.

All he knows is that he doesn't want this to end.

"Wait, sweetheart," he murmurs, even as you squirm from his grip pinning you in place. "Just give me a second. Want to remember this," and he means it with more sincerity than he ever thought he had left in him as he stares up at you in complete awe.

He wants it to last.

Not just out of a ill-placed sense of pride. Not just because he knows you're going to give him shit for coming too fast.

He just wants this to last. Wants you in his arms like this. Wants you to look at him, just like this, like you need him to survive, more than your next breath. This. This. This. He wants it to last forever.

You don't listen to him though. Of course you don't, because you never make it that easy for him. Your hips roll against him, grinding with desperation until his cock nudges something devastatingly perfect that has him convinced his brain is melting.

Shit, he has to stop. Oh fuck oh fuck, he's too close—

"Stop stop," he warns, hand gripping down on your hips to stop you "Boa, Stop— fuck you're gonna make me—"

But it's too late. It's already happening. He can feel his cock pulse and throb as he spills himself inside of you, shuddering through his orgasm— and fuck this was not how it was supposed to go down.

Everything slows. It's everywhere, rushing through him with a chaotic frenzy as it wrings him dry. The euphoric sensation overcrowding everything else, and his head feels like he is going to split with it. He can't think. Can't breathe.

But even in his post-cum haze he knows you still haven't come and he can't have that.

Santiago grits through it. Biting down and clenching on his jaw to ride through the over-brimming sensation that threatens to burst out of his skin as he continues to thrust into you.

Oversensitive and overstimulated. Every slick slide of your perfect pussy has him gasping for air. It's too much. Like live wires are running through his skin and every cant of your hips against him sets every receptor in his brain on overdrive. His cock is so sensitive, he can feel every fraction of you wrapped around him.

And it's perfect and it's good. And it's just so fucking much.

You're burning hot. He feels feverish and on the brink of delirium from the heat. Like he's inside a live furnace, but he doesn't want to stop. Can't stop. Not until he's seen your eyes roll into the back of your head. Not until you've come apart for him.

Locking his arm over the small of your back, he flips you over, onto your back. Pushing his free hand between your bodies until his thumb is rubbing rough little circles on your clit again.

He keeps going, pushing inside even as every nerve at him is screaming for respite. Santiago doesn't stop though. You're so close, and he just has to hold on even as each flutter and squeeze of your cunt is pushing him over the edge of too much.

Doesn't stop even as your gorgeous eyelashes flutter dramatically, your eyes rolling back as you kick your leg out and finally, finally comes on his cock.

The sensation of your climax punches the last breath out of him. He can hear himself whine pathetically into your neck.

The overwhelming tightness of you, your pussy squeezing and clenching down over and over, as if you're trying to wring and empty him out of anything he has left him. It brings him to his knees and collapses into you.

Everything feels sticky and clammy. Both of you drenched, as he's pinning you down with his weight. He feels weightless and heavy all at the same time. It doesn't make sense and shouldn't even be possible. But it certainly didn't help him in his efforts to move

To the protest of his exhausted limbs, Santiago rolls over to lay on his back next to you there on the floor. Both of you sweaty and panting.

God this might have been a bad idea.

It was too fucking hot even before all the physical exertion, now it's like an inferno. He's seconds from passing out. But at least the floor is marginally cooler against his back than the surrounding air, while you're laying there catching their breath.

Every inch of him thrums with pleasure, and his body practically tingles with the afterglow of his climax. But he can't help the scowl on his face. He's mentally cringing.

He came too fast.

Shot his load like some overeager virgin.

And there's no fucking way you wouldn't have noticed that he came before you. It's only a matter of you catching your breath, before you start giving him shit about it.

He lies there, staring up at the ceiling, preemptively trying to come up with some kind of defense or comeback but nothing comes to him. The only thing that fills his head is the image of your eyes from seconds ago, gazing down on him, looking at him the way that deep down, through all those years of platonic friendship, for all the way he's tried to repressed it, he's always wanted you to look at him.

It's so fucking stupid, but his stomach flutters pleasantly at the memory.

"Hey, Santiago...?"

He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face trying desperately to pull himself together. Because even though he knows it's coming. Right now he feels too naked and raw, without protection to brace himself at whatever joke you're sure to make next at his expense.

Feels a little bit too exposed after that perfect moment of having everything he never let himself acknowledge that he wanted right there in his arms.

He swallows, bracing himself for the witty remark, as he responds to you with a weak, "Yeah?"

You don't say anything.

Instead, he feels just the barest touch against his hand, and he looks down. Your fingers slides against the heel of his hand, searching for his hand before you find his pinkie and curl around it. He drags his eyes back towards your face and you have the softest smile on your sweaty, gorgeous face.

"I'm glad you're here," you say, there's no sarcasm there. Your voice is soft and quiet, and so sincere.

He doesn't know what is happening to him but his chest constricts and is drawn so tight it's painful. And suddenly he's blinking back tears. Call him dramatic, but for a brief moment Santiago swears the chest pains are a sign of cardiac arrest, until you grip his pinkie tighter and the pain eases.

"Yeah...." Santiago nods. Has to clear his throat before he can get the rest of the words out from the lump that is lodged in his throat. "Yeah, me too. Sweetheart. Me too."

Sweat sticks to his back, and the heat is unbearable. But he doesn't want to move. Doesn't ever want to leave this spot with you lying next to him.

He'll never admit it out loud. But he knows why even though he hates Florida with every inch of his soul, he'll always find his way back here. Why no matter how far away he goes, a part of him will always be left behind here. A long long time ago in the drop off zone of Miami International, on a disgusting hot and sweaty day just like today, he made a promise. He promised that he'll always came back home to you.

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproiblemss who came up with that DEVASTATING concept of the pinkie holding post-sex.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#oscar isaac #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader x frankie morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal

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akumastrife · 3 months

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Knightmare Of Your Dreams // Dreamling

Rating: Explicit (Just All Smut) Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Word Count: 3k I have no excuse for this. I wanted to write weird and kinky Dreamling with a side of shapeshifting, the thinnest King and His Knight vibes, weird anatomy, some claws and shadow tentacles, and self-indulgence. Written for the "Eldritch" square on last year's Monsterfucktober Bingo that I never finished in time.

{Also on AO3} Shout out to "Violently (slowed) by Mira" that I listened to roughly 200 times while writing this bc its soooo Dreamling to me. also to Zomsaurus for the funniest line in any of my writing ever

It was never supposed to be like this. Death was for everyone else, never Hob. She’d promised.

But the Endless did not abide by such rules; drifted uncaring outside them. If Death could make such a thing, it could be assumed that one of the others could unmake it.

And now that the imminent danger is gone, now that Hob’s safe and remade under Dream’s protection, he can at least admit Hob looks wonderful on his knees.

Dream’s always thought so, and now he gives himself over to leisure to look his fill. He’s well and truly his now, shouldn’t he be allowed?

The visage Hob’s chosen for himself is fitting; muscle encapsulated in shining armor, a sword at his side and the helmet with haloed spikes set reverently beside him. The insignia, mirrored on cloak and shield, is Dream’s favorite part.

A burst of stars across a sea of black, glittering as it moves just as Dream’s coat does. It is the same, after all; a claim that makes primal satisfaction simmer low under his skin.

Dream’s remade him, and Hob has chosen to be his, still. Always.

Everything the Corinthian was supposed to be. Every iteration a pale imitation of the man Dream has followed through time.

“You do not have to kneel,” Dream says. Near purrs. Can tell the low timber is pleasing by the way exposed skin shivers in answer. But Hob himself does not move. Not even an inch to have his armor creaking.

“Perhaps,” Hob says, looking up quickly and the corners of his mouth flicking up similarly. “But you like it. And I owe you, don’t I?”

Hob owes him nothing. The centuries of give and take sprawl behind them, and Dream is almost certain the scales are still tilted in Hob’s favor.

And yet.

That is not what Hob is asking.

Now that he’s part of the dreaming, now that he’s part of Dream—intertwined irrevocably—there is little Dream cannot know about him. His feelings, his mind, his desires.

It is a game Hob’s wanting.

Dream hums, leaning back in his high-backed throne, crossing one leg over the other. Considers Hob, all his pieces, the laughing light in his soft eyes. Gestures wide and airy with one hand. “And what would you offer? To me, an Endless, who has need of nothing.”

Hob does shift then. “My lord,” said with all the impudence of a knight who ought to be taught to heel like a dog. His eyes drop, hungry and dark, down Dream’s front—

Dream finds himself wearing a velvet robe in the darkest shades of plum and night-sky blue, open to expose the moonlight of his torso. Plays fingers along the sweeping sleeve hems with half an eye on Hob, considering him and the outfit he’s put Dream in with sheer want alone.

“I see,” he murmurs. Watches Hob swallow. Extends his lifted foot, now encased in a soft stocking that runs the length of his leg under the edges of the robe, and slides it slow between Hob’s legs. Presses up, idly, like he is a curiosity and nothing more.

Hob shudders, eyes fluttering closed as he swallows again, jaw clenching against the sigh Dream can almost taste.

“You would like to serve me, then? You, who are now a Nightmare under my hand, and think yourself clever as a knight. All the centuries you’ve lived, and still, you crave a king to kneel before.”

When Hob doesn’t answer, Dream arches up his foot again, a smooth slide that pushes speech out of Hob.

“No,” Hob gasps.

“This says otherwise.”

“No. Not a king.” Hob grits his teeth, every part of his body (tight, honed and singing like a weapon begging to be asked to strike) shivering in an effort to stay still. “Just you.”

Warmth blooms and oozes under Dream’s skin. He lets the satisfaction radiate out as something tangible until Hob’s blinking up at him, expression bare in its awe.

“You are an impossibility,” Dream praises, softly. “I should’ve offered to keep you long ago.”

“I would’ve happily,” Hob says. “Let me now?”

“Be kept? Oh, Robert Gadling,” Dream says, leaning towards him. Takes Hob’s cheek in his hand, cradling gently before shifting to catch his chin in an unrelenting grip. “I am never letting you go, even if you beg.”

Hot hands land on his knees as Hob surges closer and leans up on knees still to catch his mouth in a kiss.

Dream lets himself be kissed. Let’s Hob direct it as hot and slick as he likes, lets himself be lulled under the rhythm like a boat bobbing gently on calm waters. It is at odds with the desire boiling under Hob’s hands, thrashing and teaming to get out. Barely contained in this body Dream has fashioned lovingly for him.

“What do you have for me?” Hob asks against Dream’s mouth, hoarse already with the want like it’s choking him. His hands slide reverently down Dream’s chest, toying with his nipples before following the edges of the robe to his lap. Kisses him gently as he finds Dream’s hips and holds on, thumbs rubbing back and forth.

“What would you like?”

Hob’s hands squeeze, breath catching audible in something too close to a whimper. Freezes, startled by the overwhelming realization and the world that’s been opened to him. Offered to him on a platter.

Dream slips into his mind easily, eyebrows raising at the dozens of images that flip through him. Hob’s brain working overtime with all his wonderings and filthy dreams.

Hob certainly isn’t lacking in imagination. It seems like he’s traded any shame he might’ve had for more of it.

If Hob is spoiled for choice, then he shouldn’t have to choose.

Dream selects a few of them, plucking them out of the mire with newly sharp claws, as precise as a spider traversing its own web. He feeds that thought to Hob while he has him, and smiles at the shudder it gets him.

“Are you that easy?” he asks. He runs his black-tipped claws through Hob’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

“For anything, as long as it’s you,” Hob assures him, nipping at his lip.

“I might scare you.”

“You can’t,” Hob says.

Something dark and dangerous flares low in Dream, and he grips the back of Hob’s neck, dragging him back into a kiss. He has to taste him, has to steal his breath until he doesn’t breathe at all without Dream doing it for him.

Hob fumbles to strip his thin gloves off and find the opening of the robe with bare hands. “Please,” Hob groans. “I will be so good for you.”

His hands slip greedy to skin, wrapping around Dream’s cock. Strokes him slow to learn the new shape of him, to thumb all the fluted edges like a tall flower closed.

Hob bows his head to take him into his mouth immediately, groaning softly as his tongue dips into the slit.

Dream sighs, letting his hands wander of their own accord. The armor is mostly in his way, but he is not bound by mortal conventions and can slip beneath them. “You have only ever been perfect.”

Hob’s tongue is heavenly and cruel at once; a rolling softness that deftly coaxes at every place that sparks pleasure like Hob is singularly attuned to it.

The plush give of his mouth is enough that Dream distantly wonders if he had reshaped it to only accept him.

He wants to devour Hob whole, if only he might also feel this all-consuming pleasure.

Hob groans softly like he agrees.

“Easy,” Dream praises again, deftly flicking at every buckle and clasp of Hob’s armor with his claws. It all falls away under his whim, clattering indecent to the floor and echoing through the hall. Leaves Hob in just a soft tunic and breeches, and available to his hands and the shadows that ripple around them in pleasure. They shift and pulse in time with his own heartbeat. Grow larger and darker, building up on their own and teaming hungrily around Hob.

The hunger is its own entity, awakening from disuse in his body and ravenous for it.

Shadows pull together, wriggling into tendrils that wrap and caress Hob like a lover.

Dream can feel him shiver and shake, can feel his breathing stutter and deepen. Feels everything his shadows do, awareness split to watch Hob’s head move sinuous and also in the tendrils slipping under fabric and along tacky skin.

Exhales heavy and inexorable as he tips his head back and watches through the shadows that explore the length of Hob’s body, licking in every crease and curl against the tight heat of him.

“Hard for me?” Dream breathes. “Just from being on your knees, just from having your mouth full? Easy.”

“Merely rigor mortis, my lord,” Hob teases, tracing his tongue down.

Dream tightens his fingers in Hob’s hair, pulling warningly. “I gave you life, and I can take it away.”

“Don’t threaten me, I’m into that.”

Dream laughs despite himself, startled, and just as quickly it twists into a moan at the savage spear of tongue against his slit, the way Hob takes him so deep into his mouth he can feel the squeeze of his greedy throat.

“Do you wish to consume me?”

Hob whines, nails digging into his sides, swallowing again.

“Do you wish to take me inside all of you? Or shall I open myself up so your tongue may taste me at my core?”

Images fly fast and desperate behind Hob’s bruised eyelids, saliva pooling and dripping, knees twinging against stone as shadows finger lovingly along the inside of his thighs. Debauchery, and a spine-tingling notion of Dream splitting his cock open so Hob can lap his tongue down the center of it, giving pleasure from inside-out.

“Steady, love,” Dream eases. His claws betray him, digging into the back of straining shoulder blades. Trace slow paths that almost draw blood. “We have eternity yet.”

Dark tendrils tease up to Hob’s hole, laving attention and worming inside.

“Fucking terror,” Hob gasps, pulling back and jamming his face in the crease of Dream’s thigh.

“Just that? They are so small, just curious,” Dream muses, curling fingers through his hair, soothing. “You have taken more. This should be nothing.” Tightens and pulls, yanking Hob’s head back and savoring the electric groan.

“It’s well and truly different, and you know that.” Hob’s already panting. Shifts on his knees, hips hitching into empty air and then back on the mime of fingers. “More?”

Dream lets him have as much as he can take, humming a soft ballad from the thirteenth century as he feeds more to Hob, stretching inside him; another to wrap and squeeze his balls, preventing him from rocking himself to any sort of satisfying end. Savors the choked moan.

He would play with him like this for a century, like a cat does a mouse, toyed with on just the edge of some finality but never letting him have the satisfaction.

“Please,” Hob begs. “Please, anything you like, I will do anything, just—just more. I want to feel you. I need to feel you.”

He’s very lucky that it’s exactly what Dream himself wants. Lucky to be so handsome, to have caught Dream’s affection like the golden-limned muse he is. Lucky that Dream will happily bend time and reality for him.

Will happily help him up from the floor to kneel over Dream’s lap instead, and hold his hands firm for stability as Hob sinks down onto his length with a groan so obscene Dream’s sure it would put a whorehouse to shame.

“Look at you,” Dream purrs, watching every inch of Hob’s face tipped back in rapture. “You take me beautifully, my love.”

Hob laughs, something breathy and aborted, tight around all his edges as he squeezes Dream’s hands in a dozen things unsaid. Squeezes his eyes shut; squeezes around Dream himself, sweat dotting his skin as he takes a blessed moment to get used to the new shape of him remade for Dream’s pleasure.

Or maybe it the other way around, maybe it is Dream who’s been reshaped for Hob, to be used and enjoyed.

Dream continues to watch him, enjoying every detail and shift, as Hob takes his time. Runs sharp claws only somewhat careful up and down Hob’s heaving ribs, keeping his own hips still as Hob begins to rock small circles onto him. Keeps him deep inside, but chasing the little shocks of friction.

“Everything you wanted?”

“More,” Hob says. His thighs flex in an effort to lift and sink back down, building to some rhythm only he knows. It is heaven and hell both to feel him—better than, when he’s experienced both. Would rebuke both for this here, and does with his teeth to Hob’s throat, tasting the pounding of his heart as Hob works himself a little faster.

“And you?” Hob manages to ask.

Dream does not bother with words, just in the tightness of his hands and claws as he drags Hob closer into him, both of them gasping as talons pierce skin.

The dark tendrils are as hungry as ever, sliding around Hob’s skin and covering every inch Dream cannot. Teaming against them both like a desperate creature, jealous for attention. Needy still, despite having tasted Hob already. Maybe wants more for having done so already.

They are part of Dream, after all, and Dream does not think he will ever tire of tasting Hob. Tastes him again in an open kiss, slow and indulgent in contrast to the fast and brutal way Hob fucks himself on him. Tastes every breath and keen that escapes Hob. Tastes Hob’s skin and nipples and cock through the wriggling passes of darkness.

Hob is tight and hot and slick, and Dream buries his face into Hob’s neck, breathing deep and fast, grazing with very sharp teeth. Each press gets closer to breaking skin, and each one makes Hob shake harder.

“Will you give it to me?” Dream rumbles. Teeth and claws dig in so slowly, pressing wrenching gasps from Hob. Shadows build and creep around Hob’s cock, gripping him tight, squeezing in time with his own frantic rocking.

Hob sobs, body tense and face utterly slack in ecstasy. “I’d give you anything.”

“Just you then,” Dream says. Drags nails down to sink into the writhing dark mass to take Hob’s cock in hand. “Everything. You are everything.”

The smallest, weakest whine escapes Hob. As does a tear, tracking slow down his cheek.

Dream stretches to lick it up, saliva turning sticky as arousal swells. He grips Hob tight all over, free hand gripping his hip to yank him down into a frantic rhythm. Feels his pulse follow suit in the desperation—hears Hob’s do the same—thoughts swirling with the desire to fold Hob over something and well and truly claim him. The desire to hold Hob down and use him as much as Hob himself wants.

Wants most, ridiculously, to make Hob happy. And that is to stay right here and let desire fan the flames of his power until he is growing in size and energy, and still letting Hob curl over top of him as he shouts in painful sharp release.

Dream groans with him, drawing it out of him like spinning yarn, a gentle and thready tug-and-give, taking every shake, every pulse, all the suffusing warmth Hob has in him. Wishes to draw every ounce of damp completion out of him until he is as empty and cold as the armor he likes to wear. The armor still scattered on the floor of the throne’s dais. The sight of it over Hob’s shoulder (scratched, bitten, bleeding) is nearly as loose and erotic as the man still fucking himself on him is.

“Won’t you join me?” Hob gasps. His voice grates and fails him, near hoarse. Keens as he forces himself to tighten around Dream’s cock, trying to milk pleasure out of him. Hob is so tired. Dream can feel it. His exhaustion. His pleasure. His satisfaction. His greediness as his muscles spasm and twitch with continued stimulation. “You’ve made me feel so good, love. Won’t you let me do the same? Please.”

It wobbles. The word or Hob’s voice, or maybe Hob’s grasp on rationality.

Dream only hums. Loosens his grip on hip and cock both, softening to hold and stroke featherlight. “You are tired.”

Hob shakes his head. Resumes languid rolling of his hips.

“You might hurt yourself, continuing like this.”

“You will fix me,” Hob argues. Stubborn in life and death both.

“You are charming.”

Hob manages a breathy laugh. His expression tightens, eyes squeezed shut in focus. “If you don’t come inside me right now—”

Dream bites his lip, cutting it off neatly. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t. Just…” Rolls words around in his mouth, leaning back against the throne, watching Hob refuse to still.

The dark tendrils, pesky things, help him. Wrap around his waist and curl at his back, stabilizing him, keeping him from tumbling either direction.

“Not yet,” Dream decides.

Hob chokes on a whine, posture shooting ramrod straight as the layers of ridges on Dream’s cock expand outward. Just enough to keep him locked in place.

“You wanted something new to play with,” Dream reminds him, running claws through sweat-soaked hair. “Who am I to cut your fun short?”

#dreamling #the sandman #dream #hob gadling #monsterfucking #eldritch dream #shapeshifting #shadow tentacles #my writing #monsterfucktoberbingo #knight vibes #PWP

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sakurajournals · 4 months

Text

2023 Bingo was a bit of a bust. No lines and not much chance of any of these being achieved before the new year rolls in.

So i'm planning my 2024 Bingo!

1/ Read 10 books 2/ Visit Brockhole 3/ Go to a Vintage Carshow 4/ Reach 1600 followers on Twitch 5/ Make a raid video 6/ Achieve 30 avg viewers in a single stream 7/ Play 5 new games 8/ Level up Kai to 90 (FFXIV) 9/ Pass my driving test 10/ Cook/bake something new 11/ Start a cookbook journal 12/ Make vtuber assets to sell 13/ Design an adopt character 14/ Visit a Zoo 15/ Go on a Coach trip 16/ See 1 friend IRL 17/ Make a bujo spread with colouring pencils 18/ Catch the northern lights on camera 19/ Read 5 books 20/ Post a YouTube Video 21/ Reach 200 followers on YouTube 22/ Get all Splendorous Tools (FFXIV)

Need 2 more to fill this out....

#bujo bingo #bujo journal #my bujo #bujolife #bulletjournal #bujo aesthetic #bujoideas #bujoinspo #bujolove #bullet journal #journalling

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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 days

Text

A Man of Many Talents

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~200

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey can i request a hcs where the reader is Jensen wife since him start filming supernatural season 1 and just a hcs their relationship.

Summary: Your life is nothing but amazing because you're married to a one-of-a-kind: Jensen Ackles.

Square Filled: phone for @spnonewordbingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Being in a relationship with someone who does acting for a living is never easy

It’s the many auditions

It’s the many failed auditions only to have that one good one that sticks

Some go past the pilot, some past the first season, and some like to go for fifteen years like it did for your husband

You couldn’t be more proud of the man he is today than you were when you first met him

There have been a lot of long nights staying up with Jensen and helping him practice his lines

You have your own job so you couldn’t be with him all the time

On the days you could be, you stayed with him in his trailer and supported him from the sides while he filmed

There have been long nights where the only thing connecting you two is a phone

It made for a lot of phone sex

Jared and Gen are your best friends, and you and Misha love to pull pranks on Jensen all the time

When Alex came onto the show, you turned tables and targeted him

You go to a lot of conventions with Jensen and the fans absolutely adore you. They often ask for you whenever you’re not there, and they love taking pictures with you

The Supernatural fandom is your second family and you couldn’t ask for a better one

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles headcanon #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #supernatural headcanon #spn #spn fic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fluff #spn headcanon

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makeyoumine69 · 1 year

Note

🧁🥂 Happy 200!!!! 💞 Patrick's currently sweating and crying, he only has 100 followers.. lol, no but seriously that's really awesome for just one month and all the engagement you've gotten with everything! it's so well deserved, congrats!! ooooo and for the writing challenge ... edging x degradation ??? issa vibe 👀

Longing

◥ PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

◥ SUMMARY: You'll definitely remember this visit to Broadway, especially Patrick's sneaky fingers.

◥ CW: 18+/ NSFW │fingering, dirty talk, sassy Patrick.

◥ WORDCOUNT: 1k

◥ A/N: Thank you so much for your request! This one is pretty big!😁I hope you like it!😘🥰

◥ LINKS: │Bingo Writing Challange Masterlist│ │Main Masterlist│

One day, Patrick took you to Broadway to watch one of the most famous shows–“The Phantom of the Opera”. Honestly, you didn’t expect him to be that kind. But you couldn’t miss this chance, especially when he said you got the best tickets.

Gershwin Theatre was very busy that evening, people kept coming inside until the performance started. Bateman wasn’t lying, you really had some decent Box Seats with an amazing view and comfortable armchairs.

Fascinated by the atmosphere of the show, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the stage, while Patrick couldn’t stop looking at you. Leaning on the armrest, he has to bite his lip whenever your chest was rising and falling. You were so excited to be here, watching this fantastic performance that you didn’t even notice his hand traveling all around your lower body. First, he touched your knees carefully, watching your reaction and when you didn’t even move he proceeded further, petting the tender flesh of your inner thigh. Thank God, the surrounding darkness was hiding you from prying eyes.

Only then, you finally sensed his big palm, which almost reached your suddenly damp underwear.

“Patrick?” you asked, without looking at him. “Patrick, stop. Please…”

“Why?”

“Because we’re in the theatre!” You tried to pull his hand away, but almost immediately you had to hold back a gasp as you felt his plump lips on your neck. “Mmh, Patrick… people are looking at us.”

“No, they’re not…” he whispered into your ear, his palm still dangerously close to your pussy. “Now (Y/N), quit acting like an innocent girl.”

His low, masculine voice was flowing through your body like warm honey, it was boiling the blood in your veins and as a result, you ended up panting and trembling under his touch.

“Daddy….” You had to cling to the armrest, looking into his eyes from under your lashes.

“I know, baby,” he got a little closer, hugging your shoulders with his free hand. “Relax, and let daddy take care of you.”

This man… how was it even possible to resist him? Patrick was barely touching you, and you already felt so lost as you didn’t know whether you wanted him to stop or to pray that it would last forever.

“If I check right now, would you be wet?”

“I… I wouldn’t. A-aw…” You were about to whimper, feeling his thumb brushing against your sensitive clit, but Patrick caught your mouth with his hot one, pulling your tongue into a sensual dance.

Inch by inch, he was moving your panties aside and then, he suddenly slipped his long fingers inside your dripping pussy with no resistance. “Such a little slutty liar,” he leaned down to your ear, pressing your head against his chest to shush your attempts of making any sounds. “Do ya want everyone here to know how nasty you are? Dont’cha, fuckdoll?”

“Pat… P-Patrick….” You convulsed, feeling his digits curling inside of you as they were hitting your sweetest spot.

Kissing the top of your head, Bateman was holding you in such a way that you were gasping near his ear and for him–it suddenly became an interesting pleasure.

“What is it?” He kept pumping your soaked cunt, twisting his fingers which were already fully covered in your slickness.

“E-enough, please…” Begging, you tried to squeeze your legs, but it didn’t help.

“Every fucking time, you start these pretending games….” he grabbed the back of your neck, groaning in a low voice. “And every time, you turn out to be a fucking dripping mess for me. How can you justify yourself? Tell me, slut?!”

Damn Patrick, and his filthy mouth. The things he was saying, his skillful fingers stretching your inner walls so perfectly–this wicked cocktail of sensations was bringing you almost over the edge, but at the last moment, Patrick suddenly stopped, pulling his digits out of your throbbing pussy.

“D-daddy?” You nearly yelped as your voice cracked.

“Did ya really think it would be that easy?” he taunted you before he paused as the audience applauded, but the show didn’t seem to be finished, and neither did Patrick: “Open your pretty mouth. I want my obedient whore to clean up the mess she just made.”

Breathing rapidly, you obeyed and took his digits, tasting yourself on them and you couldn’t help but moan as your whole body was still tensed like a string, waiting for its release.

When the applause stopped and his fingers were clean enough, he kissed you roughly on your lips, passionately sucking both of them one by one. And then, he rubbed your clit one more time, making you almost crest your high, but soon he broke off again… and again. He was literally torturing you, playing with your feelings and your mind, not to mention your tormented little form, which was shaking like a leaf. “Daddy,” you whimpered in a piteous tone. “P-please..”

“Please what?”

“Let me… Let me cum, please,” you wrapped his palm, leading it up to your moist entrance. “I beg you…”

“What? I don’t understand you, brat,” he smirked, petting the inner side of your thigh and winding your curl on his finger. “But I must admit, you perform even better than the actors on the stage. Such a needy little cockslut, Jesus…”

Satisfied, Patrick turned away from you, feeling smug as usual. Sobbing and fidgeting in your place, you tried to impale yourself onto his fingers, though he didn’t let you, giving your pussy a slight slap that almost made you cum, and then, he quickly pulled his hand away, breaking the contact completely.

“Uh-uh,” he warned you, fixing your underwear and putting your legs together. “Did I promise you would remember this evening?” he stroked your face, pinching your cheek and enjoying the picture of your swollen lips as you were desperately catching the air. “Oh, you will definitely remember it. So, you better behave yourself if you want to keep the ability to move.”

Your inner walls clenched around nothing just from the way he said the last words. Fucking bastard–you hated him… And still, you needed him.

#patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman headcanon #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #slasher x reader

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 9 months

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Y'ALL

I have surpassed 200 followers, and now I'm over 300 followers 😱

I never even got to have a 200 followers event because it all happened so quickly, and life got busy in the month of July 😔

Sooooooo, here's the thing... I'm busy and I'm exhausted. I've got three chaptered fics moving at a snail's pace and half a bingo card to finish before the due date 🥴

I really wish I was one of those awesome writers who post fics/chapters weekly, but sadly, I am not. I'm just not wired that way. So, I won't be able to open requests for full fics 😮‍💨

Butttttttt, I'm thinking of doing another 100-word drabble request event. It would be different prompts, but the same idea as the first event. These are the easiest for me to do, and it's always a good exercise and a great way to interact with my followers 🥰

Thank you to all of my followers who make my Tumblr experience so meaningful 💚

I love each and every one of you, and I hope you continue to enjoy my content 😘

#tbbb speaks #tbbb polls #200 followers #300 followers #tumblr milestone

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camelots-daffodil · 2 years

Text

My Fic Masterlist ✨

🌻 Diplomatic Immunity & Other Benefits

(Merthur, T) Marriage of convenience to save Merlin from execution but discover ✨feelings✨

🌻 Love in a Time of Dragons

(Gen, T) After Arthur’s death, Merlin has to find something else to live for, at least until Arthur comes back (Dragons)

In Progress, updates tagged #liatod

🌻 Until Forever

(Merthur, T) Hurt/comfort when Merlin gets injured by one of Morgana’s curses, Arthur cares for him

🌻 The Way Things Work

(Merthur, T) 4+1, The knights love Merlin and protect him by enforcing the ‘rules’

🌻 How Many Are There!?

(Leon & Merlin / Merthur, G) Leon is shocked as he slowly learns about all the secrets Merlin’s been keeping

🌻 Knights of Camelot: Just Add Water

(Gen, G) Merlin expected Arthur to rise up out of the lake. What he wasn’t expecting were the knights rising up out of random water sources where ever he went

🌻 I Hate You Because I Love Him

(Merthur, G) Recently promoted to Court Sorcerer, Merlin is jealous of Arthur’s new manservant, and the knights place bets

🌻 5 Times Merlin Didn’t Say It + 1 Time Arthur Did

(Merthur, T) Ft. Arthur being SO WHIPPED and Merlin being a little shit. Established relationship.

🌻 I Slithered Here from Eden

(Morgwen, T) Whilst imprisoned with Aithusa by the Sarrum of Amarta, Morgana dreams only of Gwen

🌻 The Kissing Fever

(Merthur, T) Love is in the air! Only Merlin thinks that there’s a little too much of it given that everyone seems unable to stop kissing each other

🌻 At Least Out Loud, I Won’t Say I’m In Love

(Merthur, T) Arthur and Merlin are having a fight over something stupid and it’s driving the knights absolutely insane.

🌻 Lucky I Love You

(Merthur, T) Merlin keeps using his Dragoon disguise to meddle in court - when Arthur finds out, it's only so long before he confronts him

🌻 That Which Binds Us

(Merthur, T) On the battlefield, Merlin takes an arrow for Arthur and pays the ultimate price. Arthur has to use magic to get him back.

🌻 Sometimes, All You Need is a Push

(Morgwen / Merthur, G) Morgana is hopelessly in love with Gwen, and Gwen doesn’t realise. Exactly like Merlin and Arthur. Maybe all it takes for a happy ending is an outsider’s point of view.

🌻 Little Do You Know (Just How Much I Love You)

(Merthur, T) 5+1 Arthur gradually sleeps closer to Merlin while out on quests, until they sleep better with each other than without.

🌻 Your Eyes, They Shine So Bright (I Want To Save That Light)

(Merthur, T) What if instead of millenia, Merlin only had to wait 200 years for Arthur to return? (+knights return)

🌻 For You, For Me

(Merthur, T) Merlin and Arthur are taken captive and Arthur claims that Merlin is his consort to save his life

🌻 No One Hurts Merlin

(Gen, T) Merlin, Arthur, and Leon are captured while on a quest, by a sorceress claiming to have a way to identify Emrys. The way? Poison.

🌻 Kiss Me Once

(Merthur-ish, T) Everybody wants to Kiss Merlin, and the only way to fix the issue is to improvise.

🌻 Happy For You

(Arwen, Merlin&Gwen, G) It's Gwen and Arthur's wedding day, Gwen misses her family, and Merlin comes through for her.

🌻 Holding Onto You

(Gen / Merthur, G) There was only one bed, and Arthur’s Daddy Issues

🌻 As My World Caves In

(Merthur, T) Last episode Fix-It Fic where Arthur doesn’t die. No one dies

🌻 Body Swap

(Merthur, T) Merlin & Arthur are cursed to swap bodies, with some scarred Merlin content for fun

🌻 Kiss, Kill… Same Thing

(Merthur, T) ‘Servant of Two Masters’ rewrite where instead of trying to murder Arthur, Merlin’s trying to kiss him

🌻 It Never Had To End Like This

(Merthur, T) A rewrite of episode 5x13 that follows their journey, but with a different destination

🌻 Beasts of Blame

(Merlin & Arthur, T) 700 word angsty magic reveal drabble for the anniversary

🌼 Family Line

Not a Fic but I made a gif set of Morgana and Uther to Conan Gray Lyrics for the bingo prompt hatred :)

🌼 Custom Gwen Funko Pop

Not a Fic but I made a custom funko pop of Gwen! I love her a lot

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rendy-a · 1 year

Note

Ohh, just one more. >w< Ruggie, romantic, and cafeteria please!

I'm so pleased with how well this one came together! I hope you like it too.

This is the last item from my 200 follower event. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Side by side with your loved one You'll find enchantment here The night will weave its magic spell When the one you love is near! For this is the night, and the heavens are right On this lovely bella notte

It was night by the time you wandered into the NRC cafeteria and heard the banging of pots in the kitchen. Bingo, you’d found him. Ruggie was a difficult person to pin down; always running errands and working whatever jobs he could find. It wasn’t unusual for you to go days without seeing your…well, you really weren’t sure what he was to you. You both didn’t feel the need to tie down what sort of relationship you two had to traditional labels. You just knew you had a certain fondness for the sneaky hyena beastman and that he felt the same towards you.

You rounded a table, separating you from the kitchen when the double doors separating the cafeteria and kitchen swung open. Your beau swept out of the kitchen with Tupperware in hand, still wearing his apron. You snort in amusement, “You should have invited me along to be your taste tester. I’d have even tied that cute little apron in a proper bow for you.” Ruggie jolts at your voice and the containers sway in his hands, but his agile movement saves any from tumbling. He sets the load down on the table and turns to face you, “Sweetheart, you don’t need cute little bows when you already look like this.” He accents his point by waggling his eyebrows at you.

You laugh and give him a playful smile in response. Then turn around to sit yourself on the table. “Not that I expect anything fancy or something but it would be nice to see you a little today. I mean, it is Valentine’s Day.” Ruggie gets a brief grimace, as though to lament that you’d remembered. Then he quickly replaces the expression with a look of feigned pain, “You didn’t think I forgot, did’ja? I’m hurt! I planned to bring you something homemade for dinner. It doesn’t count if its not made from the heart, right?”

You and he both have a good laugh at that, both of you being generous about the outcome. You generously forgive him for trying to slip out of the romantic day and he flips through his prepared meals before generously sacrificing one to the cause. “I made this one just for you, scout’s honor. Shishishi!” You accept the container from him and hop off the table, slipping around to the other side so you could sit across from him. Then you fumble in your bag for some napkins and set a little table for two.

You gesture and Ruggie sits down and opens the container for you to share. It’s a pasta with a red sauce and some meat balls. “This is remarkably put together for something you cooked. Usually, I just get the bits and pieces you’ve scavenged up,” you remark with a bit of surprise. “Come on honey, that wounds me.” Ruggie replies quickly but when you raise an eyebrow at him, he relents, “Ok, fine. The meatballs are ground from some meat I pinched from Leona’s diner stash. He doesn’t like the scrap cuts anyway but when you grind it down and season it right, bam! Perfect meatballs. Shishishi!” You smile back at your sly hyena. His resourcefulness is one of the things you admire most about him.

You both quietly dig into the pasta dish. After a few (delicious!) bites, you feel like you must address your previous comment. “I don’t really mind the bits and pieces,” you say quietly, “not when I have them with you.” Ruggie continues to eat quietly, “I know,” is all he says but you notice he smiles a little to himself. You notice and smile larger yourself. “I don’t even mind that you didn’t get me a card.”

Ruggie looks up at you, “Who says I didn’t get you a card?” Then he hands you a rumpled slip of paper with a poem on it. You read it and then look up at him, “This is surprisingly good.” You run your thumb over it when you notice there is something covered up at the bottom with a sort of scribbled heart decoration. You look at your beau suspiciously. “Is this a signature? Ruggie, where exactly did you get this?” He gets wide eyed and draws back, caught in his own scheme. Then he crosses his arm across his body, gripping at his collar with a pout, “I may have found a first draft of a poem by Rook,” he began. “At least give me credit for swiping the very best for you,” he finishes while spreading his hands open to each side and giving you a mischievous smile.

You smile back, not at all offended. After all, it was part of his charm, the way he found things overlooked by others and gave them purpose again. He was also surprisingly generous for someone who had so little. You knew this was probably meant to be his meal and yet, here he was sharing it with you. He nudged the last meatball your way, inviting you to savor the last morsel of meat; truly, he took care of those that were important to him. You knew better than to argue about it and instead accepted his gift. Then, went back for another forkful of pasta, slurping forcefully at the noodles until you were surprised to feel your lips on his own. It appears that you had both gotten the same noodle and meet in the middle.

You turn away, flustered at the unexpected kiss. When you shyly look back, you see Ruggie with a flush of red across his cheeks. He was trying to pretend that he was unaffected by the kiss but you could see the way he barely contained his grin. You feel a small laugh escape before turning back to the pasta with a smile. It was a great meal. The only thing better than stolen meatballs was stolen kisses, shared beneath the moonlight on a lovely Valentine’s night.

#200 follower event #ruggie bucci x reader #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland

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winniethewife · 7 months

Text

MASTERLIST

INVALID AS OF 1/10/24

NEW MASTER LIST

You never call me sober (Miguel O'hara x reader)

Part one Part two Part three Part four

You Can’t Always Save Everybody. (Spidersona)

Mood-Board Wedding Moodboard Masterlist moodboard

It's undeniably real (Layla El-Faouly x The Moonknight system x Reader)

Updates Mondays Mood board

Eclipsing Love (Marc Spector x OC)

Updates Fridays Mood board

I’m only me when I’m with you

Multi-fandom TS inspired fan fic, Updates Saturday's

It's time that you won (Llewyn Davis X OC)

Updates Sundays Mood Board

Jewels made of stardust (Poe Dameon x OC)

Updates Tuesdays Mood board Book 1 Moodboard

Believe in one thing, I won't go away. (Basil Stitt x Scarred!reader)

Mood Board

Kinktober 2023

Moon Knight Bingo 2024

Winnie's 200 follower celebration!

Miscellaneous

OC Masterlist

Request info

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seasonsbloom · 2 years

Note

Congrats of reaching 500 followers, you deserve it💞💞 can I maybe ask for a hangman “exes to lovers” fic from the bingo?

♡ pairing ; hangman x reader

♡ wc ; 200

♡ warnings ; none

♡ note ; thank you!!!

The thing about having loved someone like Jake Seresin, once upon a time, so far in the backlogs of your memory that it feels less fact than fiction, is that it never really ends. The love never leaves. It stays with you, residues of it in your tissues, in your body, your heart, your mind. You still wake up and think you’ll find him on the other end of the bed, look for him between supermarket aisles and at bus stops.

Wait for someone, something.

It’s easy then, to slip back into it. Into the old habit of the game, the almost-touching of fingers over tabletops, the half-smiles behind glass rims, the glances across bars.

Natasha drops into the seat next to you like a deadweight, angles her knees in your direction, braces her elbows on them. Raises an eyebrow. Asks, “You and Seresin?”

You shrug. “I used to dabble.”

At the other end of the room, Jake is pretending to chat up another girl, but you see him glance at you. Making sure you’re watching.

“When?”

“Long time ago.” Then you pause, watch as he brushes off the girl’s arm, as his eyes flicker to your own table. You grin. “Now, too, maybe.”

The thing about loving someone like Jake Seresin is that it never really ends.

The dice keep rolling. The wheel keeps spinning. And you keep playing the game.

#hangman fic #hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #hangman #mine #drabble #hangman drabble #hangmandrabble

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inceptionbingo · 1 year

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Sign-ups for Inception Bingo 2023 are now open!

To sign up for a card, please fill out the Inception Bingo Signup Form.

Participants may choose a bingo card consisting of: a) tropes/prompts, b) kinks, or c) a mixture of tropes/prompts/kinks

As mentioned, this bingo is easy in -- the earlier you sign up the longer time you have to complete your works (yay!) -- but don’t worry if you’re busy, or new, or missed the initial announcements, sign ups are open all the way until the end of May!

What kind of fanworks can I create for Inception Bingo?

Fanfic - minimum 200 words

Fanart - Completed Sketch

Fanmix - minimum 3 songs

Meta/Headcanon - 200 words

Photomanip

Picset/gifset

Podfic

Rec list

Video

I have already signed up for another Inception event - can my work for this also count towards my bingo card?

Yes! As long as it’s relevant to the square you want to cross off, we are happy for you to pair with other Inception events! Can I use more than one square in a single work?

Absolutely!!

For your convenience, here is the schedule we will be following:

January 24th - Signups Open

January 31st - Bingo Cards go out - Participants may begin posting works as soon as they receive theirs!

May 31st - Sign Ups Close

June 30th - Last day to post works

* Posting period is from January 31st to June 30th.

(For a more detailed explanation, please refer to this overview)

This year’s AO3 Collection Name is: Inception Bingo_2023

As always, if any questions please drop the mods an ask!

#inception #inception bingo 2023 #mod post #announcement

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2baabbies · 2 months

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open fic requests

hiii baddies

I’m still feeling very unmotivated, but I wanted to try something new to get back into writing

✨fic request bingo✨

so, anyone (following or not) can leave a comment or send me an ask for a short fic request. they’re going to be between 200 and 800 words, second person pov, and x reader only. aside from my guidelines (listed at the end), here are the rules:

choose an image from this ‘bingo card’ for the setting of the fic

request (nicely please 🥺) an idol and provide a short prompt for me (it doesn’t have to be directly related to the image you chose)

lmk what pronouns to use for the reader. if none are given I’m going to use she/her because it’s what I’m most used to writing

please let me know if you want sfw or nsfw, and for nsfw if the reader is amab or afab; I still don’t want minors interacting even if it’s a sfw request so PLEASE only request if you are 18 or older

poly relationship reqs are fine as well but no more than 2 idols x the reader because the word limit is going to be too constricting

will write:

💕 stray kids, nct dream, or (g)i-dle members

💕 any assigned sex reader (I prefer to write afab reader though and don’t have a lot of experience writing for amab reader)

💕 smut and most kinks

💕 any combo of dom/sub dynamics with idols

💕 hybrid au that’s not traditional a/b/o (aka my version of hybrids)

💕 slight angst, I prefer fluff and humour reqs

would prefer not to write:

💘 specific topics around transitioning (trans readers are very welcome but I don’t feel qualified to write in detail about body dysmorphia, gender affirming care, or any sort of comfort fic related to transitioning because I don’t want to generalize individual experiences and feelings that aren’t my own ❤️)

💘 self-harm

💘 eating disorders

💘 reqs for reader descriptions that are too specific (weight, skin colour, eye colour, etc., I try to be as vague as possible so more people can enjoy my fics)

will NOT write:

💔 for groups not listed in the ‘will write’ section

💔 gender-swapped idols

💔 substance abuse

💔 illness

💔 incest/stepcest

💔 age-gap/age-play/pedophilia

💔 cheating

💔 domestic violence/abuse

💔 noncon/dubcon

💔 urine/scat/vomit play

💔 anything I don’t want to write! you can ask, but I’m always free to decline without an explanation

if anyone else wants to use the image prompts go right ahead, I got them all from pinterest 🫶🏻

finished reqs:

💕 picture perfect (minnie x afab+fem!reader): #11, sfw, confession

💕 cloudburst (hyunjin x gn!reader): #4, sfw, caught in the rain with hyunjin, established relationship

💕 read me like a book (bangchan x fem!reader): #7, suggestive, bookstore meetcute with extra flirty chan, background hyunlix

reqs in queue:

none

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fic requests #skz fic requests #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fic requests #gidle fanfic #gidle fic requests #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #nct dream x reader #gidle x reader

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sleepsonfutons · 1 year

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@blueberrymffn tagged me and then I got distracted avoided facing the ordeal of my WIPs

Witcher Fandom

(Not Posted)

-Unconditional (working title) - (~6.6k written) - trans!Jaskier Geraskier fic post-Caingorn break-up where Geralt is looking for Jaskier to reconcile and also discovers that dysphoria has a unique scent.

Sandman Fandom

(Posted/Incomplete)

-Even When the World's On Fire, I Won't Stop To Watch It Burning - (~14.7k written) - my John Dee wins fic with protective BAMF Hob!

(Not Posted)

-Truss Me Up But Never Leave Me Hanging - (~3.8k written) - a Dreamling shibari fic

-Untitled Bingo Fill Fic for "Punishment" - (~800 written) - Hob is an adventurer and has heard unsettling rumors about a peaceful order of druids now holding a creature bound in their tower deep in the wilderness. He goes to investigate despite his requests for entry having been rejected and finds things far stranger than he expected.

-Untitled Bingo Fill Fic for "Last of Their Kind) - (~300 written) - Dream remains imprisoned for far far far too long and is literally crumbling into sand as the Dreaming crumbles taking the universe along with it. Even freeing Dream from the fishbowl is risky at this point as the slightest shift of his form sees more of him crumble away. Hob will not be deterred though and will do everything he can to rescue his Stranger.

-Untitled Bingo Fill Fic for "Love Triangle" - (~1.3k written) - Human AU Artist!Dream x Bartender!Hob with Wingman!Cori(Corinthian) trying to support Dream in his crush but making things extra awkward and creepy.

-Untitled Bingo Fill Fic for "Tied on a Table" - (~500 written) - Hob succumbs to the hanahaki of his heartbreak following the disastrous 1889 meeting with Dream. He sets up a trust to pay the Constantine family to take care of his body once he's completely incapacitated by the flowers overrunning his lungs. Dream finds him in repose in Johanna's apartment when she enlists her help to track down his vestments after escaping the fishbowl.

-Untitled Bingo Fill Fic for "Time Travel" - (~200 written) - Dream finds out that Hob accepted Death's gift a few decades before he escapes the fishbowl. Distraught, he resolves to rewrite the universe, but still weak is only able to return to when he was summoned and crashed to the basement floor of Fawney Rig surrounded by Burgess' cult.

-Untitled Bingo Fill Fic for "Bound and Gagged" - (~150 written) - WARNING: Implied/Referenced Non-Con, Serial Killers, Demon Possession, PTSD - Hob is possessed by a demon who uses Hob's immortal body to become a prolific serial killer while Dream is imprisoned in the fishbowl. When Dream shows up to deal with the Corinthian at the Cereal Convention, he spots possessed Hob and exorcises the demon, rescuing Hob.

-Untitled Bingo Fill Fic for "Creature: Feline" - (~1.6k written) - Hob is actually a demon but Dream never realized. Hob didn't know what happened to Dream after their disastrous 1889 meeting, but when he comes across a helm imbued with his Stranger's magic he makes sure he claims it to return to the other man whenever they next meet...unfortunately that turns out to be in Lucifer's throne room in hell where he can't just give the helm back. Everything goes to shit, but ultimately Hob winds up becoming pet to the Endless and remains (voluntarily) collared in a demonic summoning circle as a kitten.

-In Darkest Dreams They Slumber - (~700 written) - The Dreaming is the tartarus to the elder gods and the dreamstones are the anchors of their binding. When Burgess traps Dream, far more is at stake than just the emergence of the sleepy sickness. Things better left forgotten and lost were rousing from their slumber. Their madness bleeding out beyond their weakening bonds, creating ideal conditions for Dream vortexes to emerge, and cracking the foundation of the current universe. Hob and Johanna have been investigating the mass dreaming of cosmic/eldritch horrors that have become the norm for dreamers in the 20th century since they started appearing in “weird fiction rags”.

-Untitled Soteria (original fic by @phinofthestorm) AU ficlet - (~900 written) - The Endless are shamans that channel the untamed magic of the seven core aspects of the realm. In the early days of Ubrudlys, there was an unknown successor to the shaman of Death. With no training and left alone in the wilds, the unbridled magic of the Sunless Lands flows through them trapping the dead they encounter in their decaying bodies. Soon the child Death has a host of undead following them and the people of the realm are frightened by this mysterious "parade of 100 demons".

-As a stranger I know myself - (~1.2k on my part) - Collab fic with @phinofthestorm ! WARNING: Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Body Modification - Roderick Burgess wanted to capture Death, but instead he captured Dream, Shaper of Forms, and decided to force the Endless to reshape himself into his son. Hob attends a soiree to celebrate the return of his wartime friend (and lover) who he'd thought was dead at Fawney Rig. They rekindle their relationship now away from the war, but when the truth comes to light, what will happen to their relationship and will Dream be able to return to himself?

I have notes on some other plot bunny thoughts for both fandoms and a sizeable outline for a Dreamling Hook (1991) AU, but nothing actually written for those... I also don't know who all has done this already, but I want to see everyone's WIPs so feel free to say I tagged you if you want to do this! Hmm, I will poke @dramaoftheendless @thranduilland @mentallyinvernation @spockandthings @bluesundaycake @certifiedbisexualdisaster and apologies if yall have already done or been tagged for this~

#current wips #writing wips #my writing #tag game

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