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haechurch · 11 months

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thirst.

that's how you feel about this guy. he's making you... thirsty.

inspired from thirsty by aespa. (you guys might dont think thirsty by aespa as what i am thinking... its actually a tHIRST SONG. a song that is about *THIRST*)

w. blowjob, pussy eating, slapping, pet names, cum slut rdr!!! breeding kink, hint of catching feelings maybe, idk but it might sound so horny and dirty, unprotected sex, just minors dni

he's making you thirsty. so when he gave in for the first time (or is it you? you do not recall) he keeps making you come back for more, it haunts you like crazy and eventually you can't endure the torture anymore, like a vampire who's been fed by blood, you hunt for another unless you die.

I'm knocking on you again

The sight gently swaying on the sparkling water surface every day

you are roommates. the idea of getting a life under the same roof with some random boy concerns you for the first time, but now you definitely thank heavens. because damn, he's fine af. every morning he would cook his own eggs, brew his own coffee.. with low training pants hanging dearly around his hips, messy black hair, glasses, and every time he wore that plain white t-shirt. how can be a shirt making someone look like that. hot. he's fucking hot.

his body proportion is a perfection you would say, never you saw someone built like that before, and you convince that god indeed has a favorite. a man who got to be looking so fine in just a white plain fucking t-shirt.

it hugged his torso perfectly. when he's doing his thing in the kitchen, his back deliciously on display while you sit on the dining table which is placed in front of the kitchen counter and it's not exaggerated to be said that it is a perfect spot to appreciate the view, just as you meant to be.

you can't help but stare and stare, unconsciously nipping, licking, and pressing your lips together, sighing then coughing when you found yourself not quiet enough to cover your act of drooling, and one thing you can't help so badly is pressing your thighs together under the table, aggressively.

he wouldn't know.

until one night he heard you getting off when you believe he left the house and you thought you heard him that he's gonna come back late. but he didn't.

the thing is, you do believe he's not home when you finished your business and get out of your room, lights even from the kitchen were off, but then you suddenly hear a deep voice coming from his unlocked space.

"having fun?"

"fuck! what the hell?!?" you jumped as you clutched on your chest, utterly shocked. he sits on the edge of his bed which can be seen as the doors open. the shit eating grin on his face got your heartbeat running even faster.

"the fuck were you doing? how long have you been there??" you trying to be sounds normal and honestly you thought you did a great job. except for the fact the he's been there. all the time.

"who would've thought the girl that has been acting all shy and quiet..."

he pause and gesturing some random swirls with his fingers in the air before he continue, "..is actually a beast."

you rolled your eyes, "what do you mean?"

"you know what i mean, don't acting all innocent now i heard you."

"so? i'm just having my time it's none of your business seriously. you're exaggerating things."

"oh? so you're touching yourself with the thought of me was exaggerating? do you even realize how loud you were? i almost barging into your room to help you out when you call my name but i decided to give you respect.." your face flushed, he's eyeing you from head to toe as he wet his lips, ".. for your personal space,"

"haha so thoughtful" you cleared your throat then rolled another eye, arms folded sternly.

"you're so irresistible... always thought that you never want me.." he get up from his bed and walking straight to where you stand and you thoughtlessly unfold your arms guardless when he stand this close to your body.

"such a pretty girl.. wearing this thin tank top with nothing underneath but shorts? tsk."

he grab at your hand and bring your fingers in front of his face, nosing at your fingers, the right fingers you use for getting yourself off, and inhales sharply before he took it to his mouth to suck.

"what the fuck...?" you gasp at his act, face contorted in disgust, but to be honest, made you turn on at the same time.

"i should've known this sooner... never thought that you're gonna be so... slutty."

even though he wasn't the type that aggressively makes move. you were so stupid to think that he's just as shy as you, and dull, but as today happens you have to acknowledge that he's just good at holding back. and that with much respect, as he was saying. even so, the way he behave tonight.. you couldn't be more aroused. can't believe you two keep your hands off each other just to know that both of you are actually desperate to fuck each other.

The more I touch you, the more thirsty

I'm sure it's full, but I'm thirsty (Yeah I gotcha' boy)

his hands are currently all over your body. inviting him to your room is a big big mistake. from considering to be a sweet hearted kind of guy and help you folding your laundry, you have your legs being folded instead as he eat you out messily. so messy that the sound of slurping and your juices make you cringe. but damn it feels so good, he do it so right it leaves you blabbering nonsense you didn't know you let out. you squeeze your thighs together and pull on his hair, hip lifted so high onto his face to press your own pleasure cause it feels too much, but too good.

it's been a while since he caught you on the other day, and it's always him giving you head and not vice versa. he sensed that you don't want to do the same thing and didn't ask about it either, in fact, he's pretty content that he can have his way with you and eat you out gladly whenever he desires. but it's just the fact that you're actually holding back.

you want him. you want to suck on those dick that god knows he's beyond hard after when he had his way with you, but the thought of getting addicted to him already makes you unsettled. what if you become like, dependent? or what if you keep looking for him because you always wanted a taste? what if you liked him? it's the same as playing with drugs, it's so tempting that the moment you got a taste, you'll be addicted. need more, and more, more of him.

it's morning again. him with his pieces of clothing and standing behind the counter where he can see you clearly. you're sitting on the sofa in the living room which faces directly at the kitchen. he may look busy doing his thing, but he won't miss the way you look at him like a starving woman. you're staring so hard. staring at his crotch, in fact. you're so lost that you miss the way his eyes watching you, smirking in amusement like he knows exactly what you were thinking.

"angel."

you twitched at his remark, nearly dropping your bowl at the moment.

"i know you want me." he's straight to the point. it makes you bewildered that you let your mouth open and close with no words to let out.

now it feels so much harder to resist him. you can't hold on any longer.

"c'mere." you know he's controlling you. and you know you wouldn't disobey him for once. so you get up with a huff pretending that you don't like any of the ideas in his head right now and making a beeline to stand in front of him.

"what do you want?" you shifted on one leg and tried to act calm, and you do. but he won't fall for that. he already feels you. feels your need.

"what do you want?" he asked you the same question, his tone stern but his voice delicate.

"i-i don't-"

he cut you off by catching your lips on his, and as he did that, you close your eyes, already submitted. you moan to the kiss as he started to grope your ass, using his tongue to lap all over your mouth in a heated make out session. after feels like hours you broke the kiss, and he stare at your fucked out face before he harshly pushed you on your knees and started to pull down his joggers, his hard on on full display.

he stroke his length slowly as he let out a low groan while staring down at you, you couldn't be more wet. your mouth agape, the need for tasting him is so strong you're losing your mind. on all four, you crawl closer to him and hesitantly replace his own hand on his cock with yours. it's so hard that the image of him being aroused because of you makes you tingle. your grip is strong on his cock, and you squeeze it deliciously, making him growl.

you kiss the tip, basically teasing both of yourselves, before finally sucking on his blunt like a lollipop. you keep doing the suction, then give a handful of his balls a massage while you let go of the tip and start pressing kisses along his shaft. he reacts so well it makes you excited, pussy already drenched with arousal. you take half of his shaft onto your mouth, proceeding to bob your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and tongue gliding under his shaft, you do this for a while before taking all of him in the back of your throat, which makes you gag a little. he hissed and his head thrown back, both of his hands grabbed at the back of your head sternly, pinning you down his length you hardly move.

"fuck. i knew you'd be good at this. good for nothing but chokes on a cock, huh? you feel so fucking good, so fucking spoiled, aren't you? why don't you tell me you're my cock slut, hm?"

of course you can't tell a fucking thing. mouth is full of dick, good for nothing but being stuffed by his cock. and you love it so much it gave you shivers. you hummed bringing vibration down his cock which makes him let another groans, then he started to fuck himself on your throat. he let go of his hands from the back of your head and pulling his length out before thrusting, he quickly find his pace and face fuck you in a steady pace, bringing your hair in a ponytail as a nice grip.

you already know that since then, the things between you two would just bring another sweet disaster.

Sip, sip, sip, it all night

Dip, dip, dip, it all night

before sleeping, on the midnights when both of you are still awake, in the morning, when you are sick from the assignments, while cooking lunch in the kitchen, when he says he's horny, even after working out, you'll gladly give him head. every time, anywhere.

you're addicted. it's started concerning you if it's fucking normal to do a blowjob like it's some kind of routine.

you love his load. you'll gladly devour every drop of his spurt without him asking you to. even if your mouth is full of his cum, it's still not enough. when you swallow it down your throat, you still feel thirsty.

So thirsty thirsty thirsty

Drench me with your heart hidden deep in the water

you fuck for the first time that night. watching movies with a guy best friend who's been doing things with you is most likely leading to something more, which is kinda terrifies you. but fuck it, you both know that you're already far from crossing the line.

"you're so pretty." he whispered in your ear, his hands all over your torso, groping and kneading your tits. you squirm from his touch and throw your head on his shoulder, body resting comfortably on his lap. your bare back feels warm against his chest, you can feel his clothed dick keeps poking you from behind. he kisses your jaw, neck, shoulder, collarbone, then down to your spine it makes you shiver. he grab your hips to lift you up and bend you over on all four, before eating you out from behind. your back arched like a cat, face buried into the sofa pillow, muffled your own moan, hands squeezed into each other so tight.

"oh, fuck. so so good, please don't stop-" you managed to mumble, his grip on your thighs so strong, one hand kneading your cheek and slap it hard. you moan at the feelings, panting like crazy, drool all over the pillow under you as he eating you out expertly, licking from the bottom all the way to the top to suck on your clit, fat tongue sliding against your folds like he's devouring an ice cream, he spits, giving open mouthed kisses all over your pussy, fucking your hole as deep as possible with his wet muscle with purpose.

"fuck i'm so close. can you please hurry u-"

he slapped your cunt making you gasp and jolt. "what is it angel?"

"make me cum,"

"only good girls can cum. are you a good girl? my good girl?"

you dropped your head on the pillow, feeling frustrated cause this time, you desperately wanted to be fucked, hard.

"yes, i am your good girl. please, just please, fuck me,"

that's it. it's smoothly rolled off your lips. he's giving a pause for a moment at your comment, before you hear a rustle behind you, you're looking over your shoulder and he's already taking off his bottoms, leaving him as naked as you are.

"pretty girl, you're gonna be the death of me," he's stroking his dick in slow motion, the head is hitting your entrance making you arch your back even more, begging in silence to be fucked.

"shit, you're so fucking wet." he's lining his cock on your opening, teasing his own length between your very drenched folds, and it makes you whine.

he slapped your cheeks again, "beg," he said. "beg for it."

you feels like crying when you beg him, "fuck me. please,"

Yeah I keep getting greedy

Telling me that you probably too

both of you never spent nights together until morning in one room. being fucked stupid by your roommate was never been on your wishlist, but it's not that bad.

"fuck me. please,"

your tone was so desperate it mortifies you, but you don't even care anymore, you want him, so fucking much. he might want you as much as you want him, and you do want to believe that.

he's slowly bottoming up when both of you groan in unison. he's so big, you feel full, and you love the feeling. hands on your hips, almost clawing when he piston his cock in and out of you. you're a moaning mess, he then pull at your hair to yank your head up, back touching his torso while he fucks you precisely from behind.

"you're so sweet and tight. i love it." he nibbles and grunts in your ear, his voice is so sexy you're beyond turned on.

"want to... want to see your face..." you said in a tiny voice and he move quickly to grant your wish. he pulls out and carry you to move into his bed, then plop you onto the sheets.

you suddenly feel embarrassed, hands buckle up covering your chest. he chuckled when he find you were so vulnerable. like a lost little pup. fucking cute.

"acting shy just now?" he's hovering over you, parting your legs apart and sliding into your waiting hole once more. you gasp and arch your neck, he swiftly kiss and sucks on your exposed skin to leave red marks. you sigh in bliss, his mouth on you feels so right, him making you full and complete, you couldn't be more in joy.

he kiss you one more time on the mouth and thrust at a quick pace above you, eyes staring at you with lust and admiration. he's so pretty with his hair sticking all over his forehead, sweat covering his muscular body, glistening under the lights. he's so sexy.

"come with me, yeah? i want you to come with me." he demands. you nod your head and shut your eyes tightly, moaning into oblivion when he start to play with your clit and you explode right away. he's moaning with you when you squeeze him so firmly, his pace erratically fast as he easily glides in and out, drenched pussy and skin to skin clapping can be heard all over the room.

"just come in me." you cup his face and look him in the eyes, almost lovingly, and you whispered to him that made him cum immediately,

"i want you to fill me up, so full it's overflowing. plant babies in me."

only hard breathing and groan are heard inside of this room. it's not long after you two continue in bed, but the room is already steamy and smells like sex.

"not enough," you speak, more like mumbling to yourself.

"what?" he remarked.

"i said," you smile wholeheartedly at him, and come closer to his ear.

"i want all of your cum in me until my pussy has already taken all the remaining space for it."

Yes, I'm thirsty when I see you

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theloveinc · 8 months

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There's a lot of validity in the idea that older Bakugo is a traumatized pro-hero with major PTSD... but you know what's kinda fucked up to think about? The fact that Bakugo is also a 22-year-old pro-hero with major PTSD even before that, too.

It's almost easy to imagine that things are actually better when he's older (the therapy finally a routine, the trauma long set and on the path to being healed)... and that it's his whole 20s that are spent as a pool of disaster trying to recover from the war(s).

He looks back and barely even remembers being twenty, much less twenty-five or twenty-seven. Barely remembers how little he slept, not at the hands of trying to balance hero work and getting a degree at the same time, but just out of the pure insomnia that came from trying to move on and every nightmare attached.

Hardly ever showering, never shaving (not that he ever grew much of a beard, but the facial hair was definitely there. There's pictures of him on the news with an awkward, grown out haircut and patches on facial hair that make him look positively... immature), barely even eating more than a few protein bars or an energy jelly drink-a day. It's a blur, and his friends are hardly there to pick him up out of it because they're all going through it, too. Somewhat.

It's definitely weird if you meet him during this period. He's not all there, at least, not all of the time. He doesn't really register your interactions, the friendship you extend to him (a younger, or ever older, version of him would've shown you that deep seeded ferocity in response, tried to bite the hand that fed him, even if it were love... but 20s Bakugo... doesn't seem to notice). Even though only one of his eyes is clouded over, the good one never seems to brighten up.

There's definitely moments when the old him shines through: when he's with Deku, when he's in the midst of battle, when he finds out that Todoroki still does a shitty job at chopping scallions. But it's a long time before he's even close to the same, able to step out from underneath the fog of simply surviving and into the sunshine of recovering.

But I think sticking through it with him is worth it.

(It's a weird moment, a happy moment, the first time you realize that Bakugo has changed. That the pouring rain outside hasn't bothered him since he showed up at your apartment. He forgot his umbrella, he's been quite careless ever since the war—wet and shaggy hair frizzed up, cheeks red from cold—but he doesn't seem to mind, with his bare feet up on your coffee table, his eyes gazing out the window. You hand his tea, and instead of gulping it down in one go, letting it burn in his throat, he winces at the heat.

"Tastes like shit," he says, and you laugh because it always does. Just this time, he noticed.)

#bakugou x reader #bakugo #this is what crocheting a baby hat does to u #no im jk i was just thinking abt bakugo being like 22 and awkward as h*ck bc he still hasnt recovered from the war #i wanna talk abt what he's like more but this is what came out instead LOL #like i think he's really stubborn abt ... coping with after effects of dying #and then before he knows it he has major depression LMFAOO #and he can like go to work get his degree do all he needs to do as a 20-something year guy #but he's not like. *there*. you know #and you meet him and he's a binch but he's not hard to get along with #and u just sorta take him in and drag him places like idk #your school's halloween night.. or even just a night out with ur friend (he doesn't even know how to order a drink)#and he doesnt even process it all until one day he's like 'dang it feels like ive been asleep for years'#and he kinda was #but he knows youre the one who helped him and now he wants to fix himself for you bc he remembers u being there for him #but he's so funny im imagining him with like. frat boy facial hair and a really outgrown ugly mullet type haircut #and lowkey with like. greasy skin (ik he's perfect but he's in a bad state and it shows) and he eats instant noodles ever day #and only watches japanese top gear #and goes on patrols where he beats the crap outta ppl and then doesnt remember it #DREAM BOY #and then he's big hero later #anyway #caitie post #gen

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ghosts-and-blue-sweaters · 9 months

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“Does he make you happy?”

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3amsnek · 10 months

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she’s going to break something

click for better quality

reblogs >> likes

#night in the woods #nitw #nitw fanart #night in the woods fanart #mae borowski #nitw mae #mae nitw #night in the wood mae #my art?#ive wanted to make n.itw fanart for years and every time ive tried it has been Weirdly Impossible this is by far the furthest ive gotten #i did 57 different color versions of this and just ended up eyeballing colors from one of my dream sequence screencaps #yes there are layers that should be under other layers on top of them instead. no I don’t know how to fix this. yes ive used this program #for almost 6 years #it happens man #i just fuck around n try to make it work out in the end #havent posted fanart of any sort in. Long Time damn #n now ive got 3 posts in the drafts #i had. forgotten the stress element ngl #dang #the things suddenly rly wanting to draw cats again will lead you to do ig panik be damned #mmmmm I think this is one of the things that every time I look at it. i like it less im just gonna post it i think then #to be fair. i Did Not Sleep #anyways. this game is beautiful i want to draw so many things the colors. augh. eats them

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absurdumsid · 1 month

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hello !! for requests (if im not mistaken that theyre open) can i request dreamberry :3 ur art is so cute i love it sm /gen

i might have misunderstood the assignment

Swap! Sans was made by P0pc0rn Pr1nce Dream belongs to jokublog

#dreamberry #dream #dream sans #swap sans #dang sorry abt that #anyway no transcript because youre not supposed to hear such a private. intimate conversation #sanscest #sans au #sid art #sid answers

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theriu · 8 months

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We need someone brave enough to create a series based entirely on dreams they’ve had. I don’t mean “inspired by,” I mean direct portrayals of the original plotlines and story elements.

Filling in forgotten details in a way that strengthens the plotline is fine, but if the Darkwing Duck logo appeared in the sky during a crucial suspenseful moment? You put it in there. If the protagonist or another character inexplicably started being a wolf for the rest of the dream, that STAYS. If the cast unraveling the mystery of how they and their trailers/campers were transported to an alien moon base took a break to go to McDonald’s, you keep them golden arches. Any episode that makes complete sense will raise “edited!!!” cries from the fanbase. The creator would be constantly bombarded by wildly inaccurate guesses at dream interpretations, and also many suggestions of therapy from ill-informed people who only have boring dreams.

#river rambles #dreams #yes I did draw examples from my own experiencez #why do you ask #ironically I had to hunt for examples weird enough to suit my purposes XD #oh dang should have included a recent kne about Dwayne The Rock Johnson capturing my cousins who had been turned into beavers

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veyette · 3 months

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Dragon!dream from @pomellon 's dtk+ dragon au

#dang those wings #butterfly is very cool to see but to draw argh #and the skull is so hard to fit T.T #dtk+ dragon au #the tag you dhould check out bc there're many dragons designs #also the au is based with world-building with OCs #dragon!dream

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ghost-bxrd · 4 months

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The Sandman is a DC character (as are the rest of the Endless, so Death included)

Jason learning to dream walk from an amused Death and a curious Dream would be interesting

Omg I LOVED that show! (I know they’re comics but I only watched the series >.<)

And that‘s such a cool idea???? Maybe even have Dream sympathize a little with the whole “estranged family“ thing so he makes sure to show Jason just how much his death impacted the family, and Death is subtly urging Jason to make use of that second chance he’s been granted.

Just, y’know, your two friendly neighborhood Endless entities trying to make your life a little less miserable 💚💫

#death has been watching Jason since he came back #and she brings him up in conversations with Dream #who then also decides to investigate and #dang #that’s one Sad Boi #and he knows for a fact that a part of the Dreaming has been dreary and depressing ever since Ethiopia #courtesy of the Bat family #Hob Gadling begging Dream to intervene and help the sad child #death is an enabler and a queen #dream goes along for the heck of it #but also becomes mildly attached #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #dream of the endless #death of the endless #the sandman #dcu

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paintedkinzy-88 · 6 months

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As proof of my Aliveness, I am working on that Error ref, here is a wip, the scales are killing me slowly.

I also have a few more wip's, one of which I'll sneak in down below with a quick angst/small blood warning :D It's your favorite baby noodles :DDD Only reasons why that one wasn't posted sooner are because I have some details to fix (it was drawn very fast), and the desire to make a comic for it--

I blame my online friend group for spurring on the desire to make the "Dream jumping from high places to practice flying" idea, but angstier. I was challenged. Don't challenge me.

I'll make a comic out of this. And an aftermath. One day. One day...

#just gotta finish this dang reference sheet first--#got one more wip I wanna share #but its rottmnt related so I'll throw it in a different post here in a sec #for now you get wip Error and his children #I regret nothing #except for not drawing more often #I do regret that #dragon balance au #undertale #undertale multiverse #dream sans #nightmare sans #error sans #wip #work in progress #sketches #fed au #wyrms on strings au

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landwriter · 1 year

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Dirty Work | Corinthian/Hob | 1.6K | T fake marriage, true love, gardening, domestic curtainfic with an unsolicited side of angst, retired!corinthian, the corinthian loves rural england because he’s the hottest piece of ass for miles, hob loves rural england because the corinthian is safe with him there (and also the stars are lovely at night)

for Domaystic Drabbles, Day 5: Learning Something New

---

“What-” asked Hob. He paused, took a sensibly calming breath, and found himself feeling not much more calm for it. Onward, then. “-the fuck are you doing?”

The Corinthian smiled winningly up at him from under the brim of Hob’s favourite tilly hat.

“The fuck does it look like?” he drawled.

“Gardening.” Having a nervous breakdown, he thought, loudly and uncharitably. It was early. Not these-days early. Fourteenth century early. Lauds early. The robins weren’t even out yet. The sky was still a deep and restive blue. He was irritable. Owing less to the hour, and more to waking up to a cold, husbandless bed, to an instinctive panic crawling up his throat that saw him search through an empty house with increasing dread, before he finally looked out the back window and saw a nightmare. Turn of speech, of course.

It looked like a giant vole had been through. A giant, ruthlessly handsome vole, who remained at the scene of the crime wearing nothing but silk pyjama bottoms, now stained with vegetal viscera. The damage was extensive. And apparently not quite complete. He was still extracting a stubborn bit of Reynoutria japonica. The Corinthian grunted, muscles jumping in his arms, prised the cane loose, and then rocked back on his heels with a little huff of satisfaction. He paused to wipe invisible sweat off his face with the back of his hand, in a move, Hob was cooly certain, designed to attractively smear a bit of dirt across his forehead. The Corinthian abhorred a mess. Unless he’d made it himself. He caught the expression on Hob’s face and preened.

Hob made himself scowl again. On principle, if nothing else. “You’ve dug up most of the flowers, too.”

“Seen better.”

“It’s half four. You can see nowt and fuckall.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” His voice was perfectly casual, which meant it had been a truly awful night. I’m sorry, Hob wanted to say. It’s not fair. It was just supposed to be. But that’s not the sort of thing the Corinthian wanted to hear from him. Not a thing he could bear hearing, really.

“Should’ve woken me,” he said, in lieu of what he couldn’t, and walked over and took his mouth in a hungry kiss to say the rest of it properly. The Corinthian softened into him, making pleased sounds and sliding a hand under his shirt, but Hob could still feel it, all the coiled-tight misery. It practically twanged through the air. Sometimes, he thought it was nothing less than cruelty, what Dream had done to him and named a mercy. But he wouldn’t say that either. They didn’t talk about it. Not like that. “Jesus. You’re like a puppy,” he said, laughing, when the Corinthian finally let them pause to catch their breath. “Can’t be left alone or you’ll get bored and chew up all my socks.”

The Corinthian blinked at him, pupils blown wide in the morning dim. It was still a weird sight. Wrong. “They were shitty socks, Robbie.”

Hob snorted and turned around to take inventory of his garden. The spreading clump of invasive knotweed he’d really been meaning to get around to at the weekend (so he said every Monday) had been surgically obliterated and lay in a tidy pile. The overgrown nettle and bramble was gone. It had gotten a little wild, sure. But Hob had thought it pretty, in a tangled sort of way. And the entire bed of begonias he’d inherited with the cottage was uprooted. He’d never liked those, at least.

“They were passable socks,” he decided, and left it at that. “You’re getting me new ones.”

“The best,” agreed the Corinthian. “We’re starting over. Making something better.”

“As pretty as you?” Hob asked, just to watch him squirm a bit.

“You’re disgusting,” said the Corinthian.

“Wrong answer,” said Hob, singsong. “Nothing could be as pretty as you.”

“You’re messed up in the head, Hob, you know that?”

“’Course I do. It’s why you married me.”

“Pretty sure it was for the sex.”

Hob grinned. “Come inside, then, Mr. Gadling. The garden can wait.”

They weren’t married, of course. They were just strange and scandalous enough for the village already, without living in sin. More and more often, Hob found himself forgetting it had started as a joke. That when the Corinthian said ‘my life partner’ he was winking at Hob. But he said mine in other ways, ways he trusted and knew better, and so Hob didn’t mind much at all. Not that he’d mind it being real, either. He wouldn’t. He wanted to cling to the Corinthian. Keep him safe. And maybe it was old-fashioned of him, but being his husband, swearing an oath to cherish and protect, it would mean he could.

They went inside, and left the garden as it was, turned up and nearly unrecognizable. Like an open wound. All the dangerous and unsightly parts torn out. Scoured clean. Hob tried not think about how it felt so familiar. He was pretty sure the Corinthian already had. Had, in fact, done it exactly because of that. Because he’d wanted to know what Dream had felt, doing it to him.

---

Hob stood in his garden. “What the fuck,” he said again. In three months, it had been transformed. There was a new riot of colour and texture, brought only to heel with perfectly sculpted boxwoods and a cobbled path that undulated through the garden in a way, Hob felt confident, that was actually mathematically significant. The perfumed air fairly buzzed with insect life. In his periphery, a group of swallows darted through an immaculately pruned apple tree he hadn’t known he had, and then skimmed low over the bergamot, calling out to one another. It wasn’t a tame garden. It was the sort you wanted to watch all day, breath caught in your throat.

“It’s a start,” said the Corinthian mildly.

“It’s the bloody grand finale, is what it is.”

“Just did a bit of pruning and bought a few bedding plants. Nothing special. Was hoping you’d like it.”

Hob looked sidelong at him. The Corinthian wore a small, modest smile. He made a noise of disgust. “Cut that out.”

“Aw,” said the Corinthian. He thought it was terribly funny to pretend to be English and see how long before Hob noticed and begged him to stop. He didn’t do an accent. He just wore it. It made Hob want to crawl out of his skin, which in turn made the Corinthian mercilessly hone his impression. Dark mirror of humanity, indeed. Old habits die hard. Hob was sure he didn’t sound like that. Most of the time.

“You’ve done this before,” said Hob, staring accusingly at splendour of it all.

“Nah,” said the Corinthian, looking so proudly out on his work that Hob knew he was telling the truth. “Didn’t know jack about gardening. But I’ve learned,” he said, and meant so much more than gardening. He turned, grinning at Hob in his perfect garden with his perfect teeth. Except, Hob noticed, one of his incisors snagged a little on his bottom lip. He felt his heart lurch in his chest, another beating step further into smote devotion. The Corinthian looked back at the garden. “Good thing the fucker made me so damn curious, huh?”

He was fucked.

---

“It’s dirty work,” his supposed husband was loudly saying, despite being perfectly clean and unblemished. “But somebody’s got to do it.”

Hob rolled his eyes from where he was hanging the washing in their own garden, then looked into the neighbour’s anyways.

“Bless you, Ian,” said Mildred, beaming up at him. She bustled inside and reappeared with a fresh lemon loaf. The Corinthian grinned at Hob across the fence as Mrs. Martin hugged him goodbye. As if it would make him jealous. She was eighty-four. Far too young for either of them.

Five minutes later, Hob was viciously stabbing a slice of lemon loaf. “This has gotten out of hand. You’re being a do-gooder.”

The Corinthian pulled a hurt face. “It would’ve spread back to our garden.”

“I can’t believe she felt up your biceps. Like you’re a choice cut of meat.”

He smirked in a way that said I am, aren’t I? “You threatened by her, Hob?”

“No,” said Hob, and then chewed. “Fuck. Maybe a little. This is incredible.”

---

In October, the garden was named a runner-up in Kent Life magazine’s Amateur Garden of the Year, 1990. Mrs. Martin patted Hob’s husband consolingly on the shoulder and announced the Appledore Ladies Baking Club was unsubscribing in solidarity. All twelve of them.

The entire village, Hob slowly realized, had become besotted with the Corinthian. He was a Yank, but he was their Yank now. He’d endeared himself by sharing his dahlia tubers, lending out his wickedly-sharp secateurs, and most of all, smilingly dismissing any praise about his prodigious gardening abilities by saying, in his syrupy drawl, “I guess I just like pretty things.” Then he’d wink and say, “That’s why I married Hob, you know.” And whoever he was talking to would smile in spite of themselves, and tell Hob he was very lucky indeed.

He was. He’d just never felt guilty for his luck before.

That night, Hob murmured it into the back of his neck, soft and human-warm. “I think I hate him for it. Still. Even now. I didn’t know I even could.”

It was the first time he’d said it aloud. It felt like scurvy. Like a mended bone breaking again, in the silence of the little bedroom. But in his arms, the Corinthian only snorted.

“Of course you can. It’s the most normal thing about you.” Hob smiled into his nape. The Corinthian rolled over, and traced a hand across Hob’s sternum, landing, as he always did, on one particular puckered scar between his ribs. “You know what’s fucked?”

“What?”

“Sometimes, I think I don’t.”

#cob #domaystic2023 #this is continuing to get out of hand dang nab it #domesticity: coping mechanism edition #the sandman #my writing #fic post #hob gadling #the corinthian #(sighs)#hobrinthian #gardening as a stress response am i right #also a sort of sneak preview of my Just Like Love continuation plans #continuing to be unable to write cob without dream as a living ghost haunting all their interactions #and frankly i like it that way #hope you do too!

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