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loonylupinblack3 · 1 day

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A Bad Race

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You comfort Max after a bad race

Warnings: grinding, dry humping, suggestive content

A/N: this was supposed to be just a fluffy fic i swear idk what happened

It was a bad race. Max’s car hadn’t been performing to its usual capacity, and it was giving the other cars a chance to win. You watched anxiously from the Red Bull garage, eyes glued to the screen as you compared times. At this rate Lando was going to overtake him in a few laps, which would be good for the Mclaren driver, gaining another well deserved win, but it wouldn’t be good for your boyfriend who had been eager to get more wins.

As the race continued you could feel Max’s bad mood as the Mclaren car outperformed the Red Bull, pushing Max to second place. Usually still a good position, but for Max who held such high and imposing expectations of himself, you knew it would hit him hard. You waited with baited breath for the race to finish, some part of you hoping Max would gain p1 back. Unfortunately he only managed to cling onto second, Oscar Piastri less than a second behind him as the race ended.

You stayed in the garage, watching Max on the podium from the screens inside, knowing he’d come to the garage to find you afterwards and would rather have you there waiting when he was ready than going through the hassle of going in and out of the crowd and having him be finished before you were.

And just like you’d assumed, as soon as he got off the podium Max was making his way to the Red Bull garage, his steps determined. As soon as he entered his gaze zeroed in on you and he walked forwards until he had his head pressed into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist pulling you to him.

You sighed and leaned into his touch, hands moving up to stroke his hair gently, over and over again in a routine you knew he liked.

“Hey,” you whispered softly. “How are you feeling?”

Max let out a muffled grunt in response, keeping his face firmly hidden in your neck, breathing in your comforting scent. You pressed a kiss to his neck, continuing brushing your fingers through his hair as he liked it, calming him down.

It was a few minutes later before he eventually pulled his face away from your neck, the cameras flashing as he did so. They always enjoyed getting pictures of you two as a couple, and Max was too obsessed with touching and being with you to try and hide your relationship from the public, so you’d gotten used to the constant cameras.

He pressed his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his skin. He leant into your touch, eyes opening to look at you, his gaze tracing your face.

“You wanna leave?” you asked him quietly.

He nodded immediately. “Just want to be with you. Hate these fucking cameras.”

You pulled back, interlacing Max’s hands with yours. “Let’s go then. We can spend the rest of the day in the hotel, relaxing.”

Max nodded gratefully, relieved you seemed to know exactly what he wanted. You ignored the cameras and the press as you left the circuit, arriving at the hotel in record time. It was quick work arriving to your room, Max sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

You moved forward until you were standing between his legs, Max’s arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you closer. He pressed his face into your stomach, breathing deeply, mumbling your name over and over. You brushed his hair again, smiling slightly at him. Whenever he was in a bad mood he was angry with others, yet quiet and small with you, craving comfort. You gladly gave it to him.

He pulled back and tugged you down so you were straddling his waist, your arms resting lazily over his shoulders. He leant forward, capturing your lips in a kiss you gladly returned. It was soft, innocent, yet you could feel the bulge forming in Max’s pants and you couldn’t help but rock slightly against it.

Max groaned into your mouth, hands tightening around your waist, pushing you down harder on his lap. You repeated the motion, grinding lightly against his cock, your kisses sloppy as you both started panting. He pulled you closer, jerking his hips up sharply against you. You let out a startled moan, starting to pull away but he kept an iron grip on you, keeping you firmly in place, hands on your hips and rocking you back and forth.

The friction made your head go fuzzy, light gasps escaping from your lips. Max’s lips left yours to find your neck, giving it open mouthed kisses, sucking and biting wherever he could. He moved you along his cock, taking full control as he increased your pace. His jeans against yours made delicious pleasure, though you couldn’t help but wish there were no layers in between you.

“Feel so good,” Max mumbled against your lips.

You sighed in response, eyes closed as you grinded against his cock, straining in his pants. You knew Max didn’t want to go further though, knew he hated fucking you when he was in a bad mood, so you didn’t push for more.

Max was grateful, bucking his hips up into you with more fevor. You whined, feeling your stomach tighten, and the sound made Max’s cock twitch. You were both close, and even though coming from dry humping like a couple of teenagers hadn’t been on your to-do list, you didn’t mind as long as you were both enjoying yourselves.

When Max started pulling you down on his lap while he jerked his hips up, sending jolts down your body, you let out a moan, getting closer to the edge. Max was groaning in your ear, whispering your name over and over, your stomach tightening with every breathless whisper.

“Fuck Y/n, please,” Max whimpered, chasing that sweet relief.

You moved your hands to his hair and tugged, knowing that set him off. And so it did, Max coming undone with a deep groan, hands on your hips to grind your clothed cunt on his cock through his orgasm.

His voice of pleasure led to your own orgasm, and Max rode you through it, rocking your hips on his lap, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. When you were done you sagged onto him, feeling satisfied.

You pulled back, noticing the wet patch on Max’s jeans. You smirked at him. “You should probably get that cleaned up. Have a shower.”

Max brought you into a kiss, his mood officially lifted. “Will you join me?”

“Of course.”

#max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 oneshot #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #f1 fanfiction

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resident-gay-bitch · 17 hours

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May 17; Radical

Ship; Sirius x Remus x Pandora (wolfpanstar)

@marauders-rarepair-fics

"Are you sure that's correct?" Sirius asked, looming over his boyfriends shoulder, noses buried in a rather large book on Remus' lap.

"It's got to be." Remus said with a hint of uncertainty in his voice, "I mean... it's written here. And books don't lie."

"But it's..." Sirius started, scratching his head before turning to Pandora, who was busy growing flowers out of the palms of her hands, "Angel, what's your patronus?"

"Huh?" Pandora asked, snapping back to reality and rolling over onto her stomach in the grass, "Oh, it's a rather large dog."

"What?" Sirius asked, jaw dropping, "A dog?"

"Yes, it's very fluffy looking. I wonder what it would be like to pet, if it was real. It reminds me of you, actually!" She wondered, twirling some hair around her finger, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I cast my patronus for the first time today and it happened to be a wolf." Sirius said with a furrow of his brow, "And I thought... Well, better now than never, I thought they were supposed to be the same as ones animagus form."

"You're an animagus?" She gasped, scrambling up onto her knees before crawling closer, "Really? Me too!"

"Wait, what's your form?" Remus asked, furrowing his brow.

Pandora beamed, "It's a lovely little creature called a fennec fox, they have rather large ears and are the smallest species of fox-"

"Wait, Remus, isn't your patronus a fox?" Sirius asked, "One with very large ears?"

"Y-yeah, it is." Remus nodded, looking back at the book in his lap, "Wait, so, my patronus is Pandora's animagus form?"

"And mine is Moony." Sirius smiled, resting his head on Remus' shoulder.

"It's just a wolf." Remus glared at him.

"No, it's Moony. Trust me, I know what you look like, Moonshine."

Pandora laughed brightly at the blush on Remus' cheeks.

"Well, Dora, darling, you've got Sirius' form."

Sirius smiled, "I'm a dog. But that doesn't explain-"

"Oh! It says here that your patronus may take the form of the one you love the... most." Remus swallowed, looking up at his partners, "And we've all got each others."

Pandora beamed at them both, "Well, isn't that just radical?"

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scurvgirl · 8 months

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The Milkovich house is a disaster. Actually, disaster is an understatement. Ian always knew how the Milkoviches lived, shit he'd lived that that too for a bit. But it hits different when you're one of two people now tasked with sorting through everything.

Most of it is trash. Some of it, though, is meaningful. An even smaller portion of it is pure treasure.

Ian pulls out a picture, clearly taken years and years ago. It shows two young children, more like toddlers really, dressed up in matching costumes. A Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

"Holy shit," Ian breathes as he stares at the picture. He knows it's his husband but he has to be sure. He flips the picture over and in neat, blue ink reads "Mickey and Mandy, Halloween 1997". He can barely process it. Little Mickey. Little Mickey dressed as Mickey Mouse. He flips the picture over again to stare at how adorable his best friend and husband were when they were little. Mickey is smiling in the photo, a big open mouthed smile, maybe even mid laugh. Adorable. Precious.

"Hey, whatcha got there?" Mickey's voice cuts through Ian's thoughts. Oh no, Mickey shouldn't see this. But also....

"Just a picture of you and Mandy." He tries to deflect, but Mickey's quick. He darts to Ian's side and snags a peak of the picture before Ian can hide it.

He expects curses, eye rolls, maybe a hand to snatch it from Ian. What he did not expect is how Mickey goes still then looks away.

"Throw it away."

"Mick-

"Throw it away! My...my mom took that. Before she...look, just throw that shit away." Mickey picks up a beyond-repair shirt and stuffs it into a 'throw away' trash bag. He stomps off into the house, leaving Ian alone with the picture.

He looks down at little smiling Mickey and Mandy. He can't throw this away, he can't just toss whatever evidence that some parts of Mickey's childhood weren't all bad. He tucks the picture into his coat and continues to sort through the mess.

Much, much later, they're home. They shower together for quickness and it really is quick (okay, there is some groping) before falling into bed together. Fuck clothes, they're married and at this point, everyone in the house has seen them.

Ian turns to Mickey and tentatively places his hand over his husband's. Mickey accepts it, a finger worries at Ian's wedding band.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Shit, Ian, when do I ever want to talk about it?"

There's a long pause before Mickey presses his free hand to his eyes. "I dunno, man, it's just...I'm a fucking orphan. Terry was fucked up and terrible and I wanted to kill him, should have killed him, but he was...fuck. I dunno. I dunno all this feeling shit is just fucked."

Ian doesn't respond verbally right away, instead he scoots over and gently coaxes Mickey into his arms. Mickey allows it, his head coming to rest on Ian's pec while Ian holds his hand.

"I fucking hate him. He taught me how to shoot, how to hotwire a car. I hate him and he's gone. He...he hurt you."

"This isn't about me," Ian whispers, giving Mickey a squeeze.

"It is cuz I'd be...I'd be in jail right now because I'd have killed that stupid fucking nun by now if it wasn't because of your stupid ginger ass."

Ian pauses, listens to Mickey's breath hitch, feels wetness not from their shower on his chest.

"Do you want to kill her?" Ian asks softly after a while.

"No."

Oh so gently, Ian cups Mickey's jaw and tilts his reddened, tear streaked face up.

"I'm sorry you're hurting, baby, and I am not sorry he's gone. He hurt you and he can't do that anymore." Ian presses a kiss to Mickey's forehead.

Mickey doesn't say much more, either from exhaustion or not wanting to talk about it anymore. Either way, Ian holds him and he doesn't pull away.

"That picture you found was the best day of my life before you. Mom dressed Mandy and I up, we went trick'or'treating, ate so much fucking candy. Then she had to fucking die." Mickey sniffles and Ian holds him closer.

"So stupid, dressed up as that damn mouse."

"You were cute," Ian cuts in because he can't help himself, "you're still cute."

"Sap." Mickey pushes Ian without any real force, making them both smile.

"Yeah, I...have a confession, Mick."

"Fuck, what?"

"I didn't throw the pic away."

Mickey doesn't respond right away, just runs a finger along Ian's chest, fidgeting with some of his chest hair.

"Good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They're back at the house the next day. More trash. More hateful messages and books and shit that Ian would like to forget.

In the end, it's Mickey who finds it. He walks out of one of the smaller bedrooms holding a short, black book. He's staring at it like it's some foreign object or a bomb about to go off. Ian is by his side in a moment.

The book's label is written in that same neat script as the picture - "Mickey and Mandy Growing Up".

"It's a photo album," Ian whispers.

"Yep." Mickey's eyes don't move away from it. His body is still.

Ian places a hand on Mickey's shoulder, "You don't have to open it here, or even today or tomorrow. Let's pack it and when you're ready, we can look at it. Together." Finally Mickey moves. He nods his head and gives the album to Ian.

"Keep it with the picture."

Ian takes the album then leans forward to press a kiss to his brave, emotional, incredible husband. His husband who has the chance to be as happy as the little boy in the picture.

#gallavich #gallavich fic #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #scurv writes #this was supposed to be fluffy and then OOPS #feelings happened #i just thought about baby mickey and mandy dressed up as mickey and minnie

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wikiangela · 5 months

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wip wednesday🎄

tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

i wasn't gonna post anything but i wrote quite a lot today and need validation lmao (I think I might be about halfway done but who knows, it always gets away from me haha) today some buckley siblings feels, and hopefully soon ill get to the fluffy christmas part haha

prev snippet

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"(...) I used to make stuff for Maddie, and then when I was older I would save money to buy her something small and mostly symbolic.” he glances at Eddie. There’s a mix of bittersweet nostalgia and sadness on his face. “She made all my Christmases bearable, and after she left-” he stops abruptly and quietly clears his throat. When he speaks again, he doesn’t finish the sentence. Eddie wants to ask, but he figures Buck will share what he’s comfortable sharing, he doesn’t want to push. “But that was the one thing I wanted so badly, more than anything, more than any cool toys or- or anything,” he chuckles again, “and Maddie tried to give it to me, and she got in trouble for it. So after that, I just never asked again.”

“Buck.” Eddie says softly, wishing he could do anything to make it better, to fucking go back in time and give Buck all the Christmases he ever dreamt about.

“But I always wished-” Buck continues, then glances at Eddie nervously.

“Wished what?” Eddie’s thumb softly swipes along Buck’s neck and jawline, as far as he can reach. He just wants to comfort him somehow, and at the moment this is the only way he knows how, just a comforting touch, being there, listening.

“That one day, when I grew up,” Buck looks down at his lap again, his voice getting even quieter, “I’d have my own family and I’m gonna do matching Christmas sweaters every single year, and take tons of pictures of us all together, and-” he pauses again, and, with a teary laugh, raises his hand to wipe at his eyes. Eddie wants to wrap him in his arms and hold him. (...) “But it doesn’t matter, I don’t-” Buck shakes his head, and leans away from Eddie’s touch. Eddie aches to keep touching him, to reach out and follow, but he respects that clearly that’s not what Buck wants anymore, that’s fine. “I don’t have my own family yet, so it doesn't matter. Let’s just drop it.” he says, tone decisive, face red, eyes glued to the screen again.

Eddie frowns. What the hell is Buck talking about? He has a family, right here.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @spagheddiediaz @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @weewootruck @loserdiaz @evanbegins @steadfastsaturnsrings @ladydorian05 @malewifediaz @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @hoodie-buck @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @diazpatcher @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @giddyupbuck @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @buckaroosheart @hippolotamus @king-buckley @callmenewbie @jeeyuns @disasterbuckdiaz @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990

#wip wednesday #buddie christmas fic #took out a few sentences from this snippet bc it was too long lol #it was mostly about buck loving to take pics and keep photo albums etc #and eddie wondering if his parents ever even took any pics of him when he was little or if the few he has are bc of maddie #bc ngl i wonder about that way too often #and I have like 5 albums of just my pics from my childhood and i love it and i think buck'd love that and he'd make sure chris has that lol #idk buck's childhood is something i think about so fucking much and it's so sad and im projecting my anger toward the buckleys onto eddie #this fic was supposed to be cute and fluffy with a sprinkle of sad but so far it's all sad with a bit of fluffy oops haha #fic snippet #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #wikiangela writes #my writing #my wips

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tklpilled · 7 months

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here you are

(diluc, kaeya)

summary: repairing a broken relationship is not easy, but it's worth it.

a/n: this .. was supposed to be much shorter. but oh well. not a whole lot of tickling but pls enjoy nonetheless :] probably ooc but i'm too tired to fix it

[this is a tickle fic!! shippers dni]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Kaeya knows the things people say about them. Most of them were there when it happened, when Kaeya was left all alone and decided to drink his problems away. He knows they pity him. He's heard all the rumours.

"It has been a long time since he last called Diluc Ragnvindr 'brother'", they say, but the truth is quite the opposite.

It has been a long time since Diluc last called Kaeya Alberich "brother."

Their relationship is strained at best, but at the very least it's not as bad as it was. At least Diluc isn't avoiding him anymore. At least Diluc is there.

If one were to ask Kaeya what they were, he would answer by saying that they're siblings. If one were to ask Diluc, he'd say that it's complicated. That's the difference between the two.

But Kaeya is nothing but stubborn, and he has faith in the fact that Diluc, behind all the walls he's put up, has a rather soft heart. So he visits the Angel's Share when he knows Diluc is working, and he drinks and he talks and he drinks some more, and little by little he can tell that it's working. They've even managed to drop the formalities.

"Enough," Diluc says, sliding the glass back to his side of the counter. Kaeya whines like a little child, reaching after it. "You've had enough," Diluc repeats with a stern look.

"You underestimate me," Kaeya says with a crooked smile. "My tolerance for alcohol is high."

Diluc scoffs. "But my tolerance for you isn't. We're closing soon, anyway. You should be leaving."

Kaeya groans. "You're so cruel to me, making me walk all that way by myself in the dark. What if I'm kidnapped."

"They would get tired of you and release you soon enough," Diluc responds with a deadpan face. "Out."

This isn't the first time this has happened, where Kaeya has stayed late and Diluc ordered him to leave before closing. But Kaeya has obeyed every time, and the thought lingers now; if he refused to go, would Diluc just leave him?

His answer comes half an hour later, when Diluc is finished wiping down tables. He sighs as he looks at Kaeya, still slumped over the counter. Kaeya stares back, grinning, waiting.

Diluc looks away first. "Come on." He grabs Kaeya by the arm and begins to drag him towards the exit. Kaeya goes along with it. They make it to the city gates when he realises.

Anxiety creeps into the pit of his stomach. He hasn't been to the winery in ages.

"How kind of you to walk me home," he says, trying to distract himself. He doesn't linger on that last word.

Diluc doesn't answer. The walk is mostly silent, and the nervousness in Kaeya's chest only grows as they get closer. He wonders if it's changed. He wonders if he'll remember enough to notice if it has.

Adelinde greets them at the door, her eyes widening in surprise. "Master Kaeya!" she gasps, a mixture of shock and delight in her voice. "Is everything alright?"

She steps aside to let them in. "It's fine," Diluc assures her. Kaeya waves, making her smile. "He'll just be staying the night."

"Hey! You can't make these decisions for me!" Kaeya protests.

"You're perfectly capable of walking back, if you'd like," Diluc retorts, knowing damn well that Kaeya is too tired and too drunk to do anything even if he wanted to.

Kaeya shuts up.

His old room is still intact, but Adelinde insists that she hasn't cleaned it in a while, and it's too dusty for him to stay in.

So.

He ends up in Diluc's room.

"Why did you take me here?" Kaeya asks into the darkness, staring at the outline of the ceiling. It's a question he already knows the answer to.

Diluc is quiet for a long moment. "Did you not want me to?"

He doesn't reply.

"It's late. You were more intoxicated than usual," Diluc continues. "...I missed you."

Kaeya's heart nearly stops.

Surely he's dreaming. Surely this isn't real.

"Kaeya?"

"You missed me," he says, dumbfounded.

"Yes," Diluc says quietly.

There's a moment of silence before Kaeya laughs, rolling over to throw his arms around his brother. Diluc makes a strangled sort of sound, squirming. "I knew you had a soft spot for me!" he exclaims gleefully.

"G-get off!" Diluc demands, and though Kaeya can't see it, something tells him that he's blushing.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he teases. “I know you—oh?” The last bit is in response to the way Diluc suddenly jolts, his mouth clamping shut. “Still ticklish, are you?”

“Kaeya,” the man beside him warns, but it’s too late; Kaeya is already drumming his fingers over his skin, muscle memory from his childhood flooding back into his head. “K-Kahahaeya!”

“I forgot you were still capable of laughing,” Kaeya grins along with him. “Truly a miracle.”

Diluc kicks him lightly under the blankets, shoving at the knight’s hands without any real meaning behind it. Kaeya knows better than to say that he likes being tickled, but he’ll at least tolerate it if he trusts the person.

Which—

Oh.

Kaeya blinks tears out of his eye and focuses on Diluc.

He’s not being rough at all, just gentle in a way that he knows drives Diluc insane. “Y-yohou say I’m the mehehean one,” he giggles. “Yet hehehere you are, tohormenting mehe…” Archons, Kaeya forgot just how dramatic he is.

“Oh, hush.” Kaeya digs in a little harder, only for a second, enough to make Diluc yelp. “Torment?”

Diluc nods, his giggling sounding a little happier, more playful. “Betrahayed by my ohohown brohother,” he manages, and Kaeya is so distracted by their banter that he almost doesn’t notice that last word.

He never wants to wake up from this dream.

#this was supposed to be a little angstier #which is fine i jsut want to write hurt/comfort more lmaoo #my fics are all fluffy i need these bitches to be sad sometimes!!!#my fics #arty writes #genshin #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #ragbros #lee!diluc #ler!kaeya #tickle fic

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beanghostprincess · 7 months

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"Jealousy and other pathetic feelings"

(Zolu/Sanuso fanfic)

Luffy’s like the sun. So bright and hot that it burns if you approach him enough. Everybody wants to stare at him, but only Zoro is brave enough to get blinded and melt in his rays. Usopp, on the other hand, is so domestic and fragile Sanji fears he might slip in between his fingers like sand. It’s delicate. Both things are. - Zoro and Sanji pining over their boyfriends and moping around with jealousy because Luffy and Usopp are acting closer than usual.

This is a silly fluffy prompt that @leiatroublecat gave me and I turned it into a bittersweet, character analysis, angsty fic because I am a menace to society! That being said, I hope you all enjoy it!! <3

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virgo-dream · 1 year

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✨ dreamling / fluff / acts of service / mature ✨

SUMMARY: It's been 10 days since Dream of The Endless was rescued from Fawney Rig by one Hob Gadling, who takes it upon himself to see to Dream's recovery. While with Hob, Dream is provided with something he'd been missing even before his imprisonment: to be cared for.

read ch 01: "may I" here or on AO3 (2021 words)

Dream’s eyes blinked open.

He’d been laying in what seemed like a very comfortable bed. It was certainly more comfortable than glass and iron, so much so that it made him nearly uncomfortable to feel his body resting over the welcoming springs of the mattress underneath his frail body. He could feel the weight of soft, warm blankets over him. Softer than stale air, warmer than a room deprived of sunlight. Still, weighing on him, heavy. Too heavy.

He didn’t know exactly how long he’d been there for. He remembered very little; the sound of breaking glass and gunshots, the sting of cold air and freshly spilled iron blood invading his nostrils, slicing him from the inside out. Nausea, pain. Fatigue, so much of it. Then, the feeling of the binding circle breaking, like a rope that had been tied around his chest had finally been cut, like he was allowed to move again. He didn’t have it in him, physically or mentally, to do anything about it.

Next thing he knew, he was in this bed.

He remembered waking up other times, during different moments of the day, or maybe different days altogether. He felt the burning warmth of the sun on his cheek, then followed by the sound of curtains being shut. He’d seen the blue glow of moonlight, and the gentle tones of dusk. While he’d been all-knowing for most of his existence, 100 years in complete isolation were enough to throw him completely out of the cosmic loop, and in his current state, even if he did want it, he would not be able to throw himself back. Telling the time was not in his current roster of abilities.

Still, the bed. The blankets.

Dream didn’t dare to move. He was hesitant, confused. Scared, really. Everything felt good, and good could only mean bad, because bad was the nature of men, and good was the currency in which they traded. A soft bed with warm blankets was a transaction, just as immortality, riches and power had been the price for his freedom. He had no interest in trading.

Still. The bed.

The heavy blankets.

Too heavy, too soft, too warm. Soft to the point of contradicting itself into a horrifying itchiness, the worn threading cutting through Dream’s paper thin skin. The pillow threatened to swallow his head, but not without chewing thoroughly first, while the blankets felt heavier and heavier, ready to crush him, ready to break him more than he’d already been broken, ready to—

“Hey, hey— it’s okay. It’s okay, it’s over now.”

Dream hears the voice first, or maybe last, he isn’t sure. It’s detached from time and the actions surrounding it, from the feeling of the mattress bending next to him as someone sat on it, a pair of hands taking one of his own, caging it like he’d once been caged. Dream fought back against the touch, but all the strength he’d envisioned was only translated in a meek shaking of his bones, twitching fingers and what he now realised were sounds coming out of his own mouth. Still, it seems to get a reaction out of his new captor. His hand was released, in an act of fake mercy.

“…today is July 12th 2022. It is now 6:45pm. I’m Hob Gadling. You’ve been here in my apartment for 10 days now.”

Ah. There it was.

Dream’s eyes blinked open once more. So much came flooding back to him at once, it was difficult to not feel nauseous. His tear filled eyes were hard to trust, and when he brought his hands closer to wipe the stripes of salt and fear away from his cheeks, it wasn’t as difficult as it had been to move just a moment before. When he spoke, his voice was rough with sleep and the newfound tightness of his throat.

“…h.. hob ?”

How could Dream forget the kindness of that smile? The gentleness of that touch, the softness of his voice… the way those arms had carried him out of his imprisonment, hands that had bathed him, dressed him and fed him, tended to his needs and held him through the terrors that haunted him. How could he forget Hob Gadling?

“Hey there, my friend.” Hob smiled, reaching to brush the strands of hair glued to Dream’s forehead with cold sweat away from his eyes, tucking them behind his ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I was preparing your soup.”

Hob had been taking care of him for a while now. His extraordinarily human friend, his saviour, his constant, the only light to ever touch that wretched basement. He’d bravely rescued Dream from an imprisonment that had nearly caused his current form to expire, and now aided his recovery, as patient and devoted as he’d always, in a way, had been. This bed he rested in was Hob's own, gracefully offered, tearfully accepted. The pillow his head rested on also belonged to his friend, as well as everything else surrounding him.

Dream wasn't sure how long he'd taken to just. Stare at Hob. Long enough, surely, to warrant a worried frown from him, followed by a voice so gentle it almost felt like it asked permission before entering Dream's ears. "Let's breathe together, okay?" A simple enough request, now that Hob had already helped him ground himself somewhat in what humankind called reality , this awful state of existence he'd been forced into for so long. Now, he required breathing, as a child did, and reassurance that he could do it much in the same way. Still, he nods in agreement.

"May I take your hand?"

Dream ponders for a moment. They've done this almost every time he wakes with his mind scrambled, deep into terrors he can't escape. Still, Hob asks for permission to touch him, with respect and reverence he'd long forgotten. He tries his vocal chords once more, the biggest effort he can make in answer to the lengths his beloved friend had been going to accommodate his bleeding wounds. "...you may."

Hob smiles again, in his sweet, understanding way, completely devoid of pity, but maybe injected with a little pride. Proud of Dream, perhaps, as he'd told him the morning prior. Dream remembers now, he thinks.

You're doing great, my friend. Two full meals today. I'm proud of you.

He took pride in even the smallest of progress, it seemed. Dream remembered feeling the same way when his son sang out his first words. Danced away his first steps. Remembering hurts.

"Come back to me, Dream." Hob squeezed his hand, as gently as a child would, and Dream was hit with the realisation that his mind had wandered off into treacherous woods. Hob rescued him once again, and seemed to be willing to do it over and over. Blue eyes rimmed with red and liquid fear darted back to meet brown ones filled with kindness and patience. Dream nods once again.

Hob places Dream's open hand to his own chest, over his heart. He breathes in slowly, the movement of his chest calm and smooth. "...breathe in through your nose." He instructs, and Dream tries, how he tries. The air slips in staccato, and Hob needs to remind him to "..hold it in, for a bit. Now, breathe out through your mouth." It's difficult to adapt to calming oneself down through breathing when oxygen had never been a necessity, and understanding the calming properties of full lungs only came with the long, torturous 100 years he spent refilling them with carbon filled gas repurposed by his own tired breathing apparatus.

They repeat this ritual about 5 times, and when Dream catches his own rhythm, Hob releases his hand again. Dream wishes he hadn't.

"Good. You did great, Dream."

" Dream ."

Hob seems confused for a moment, before smiling at him again. So many different smiles, that one had. So many different meanings, all in the design of his features. "You've told me your name a couple of days ago. I can call you friend, if you prefer. Or anything else, really."

Giving his name to Hob was something he had the agency to do, after being barred from it for so long. He chose to do it, and regretted not doing it sooner. He'd rather Hob have it than anyone else, really. "Use it. I've given it to you. It is yours to use."

"Alright, Dream." It sounded so sweet in his voice. So gentle, caring. Full of devotion. More than ever, Dream needed it. Desperately. "Would you like to eat now? I might have to reheat the soup–"

Desperation does not suit a king.

"You dare–" Dream had no idea what possessed him at that moment, to speak that way. Memories folded atop each other, feelings seemed misplaced and hard to differentiate. Hob certainly did not deserve to be ordered around, but for once, he felt strong enough to take , take his own dignity back in his starved hands. Shame washed over him like a cold wave on a winter storm on the shores of the Dreaming itself, and Dream retreated back to his withering disposition. Not without asking for forgiveness, though. In his own deflective way. "...I would like to. To eat. I–"

"It's alright, Dream." Hob reached to take his hand again, without asking this time. He assumed his welcome was extended, and Dream was relieved to not have to grant it again. "If anyone is calling the shots here, it's you, okay? You want to eat, we eat. I'd love to assist you in it too, if you'll have me."

Hob seemed to have the workings of his fragile mind figured out, at least now. Maybe he'd seen this particular brand of rudeness stemming from desperation, maybe Dream had behaved like this every time he opened his eyes since being rescued. Dream would have punished rudeness like that if it had ever been directed at him, but Hob seemed to see beyond the offence and straight into the heart of the issue. "...you are too lenient."

His gentle friend chuckles, and Dream feels a tingling on his stomach. "Not leniency. Compassion." He begins to move to get up, but stops himself, turning once more to look at Dream's wondrous expression. "Would you like to eat here or in the kitchen? Might do you good to get off the ol' bed. A nice chance to change the sheets for you too."

Dream ponders. Hob would change the sheets for him. Would bathe him, brush his hair. Find clothing in a choice of colour that appeased him. He'd done so much already. So much . "...in the kitchen."

Hob's face seemed to light up at that. He always seemed excited when Dream was willing to try something new, and this was no exception. Now, memory fully restored, Dream could truly appreciate the sentiment. "How do you feel about walking?"

"I feel...unwilling." He'd give anything to walk, run, fly even, if he had the strength for it. But he'd give everything for a chance to be held. Of the many things Dream had been cruelly deprived of, touch was the one he was the most ashamed to admit he'd missed. Such a base need, an animal want, a desire , pesky thing. He did not need touch, he did not. Did not . He craved it . Craved affection how his physical form craved air, so desperately it almost sent him into a panic again. His unwillingness to walk might get him what he so desperately wants.

"That's fine, my– Dream ." My. Dream. "May I pick you up?" My Dream . "Haven't been able to get you a wheelchair yet." My Dream. Harder to get a hold of one in the area than I remembered." His Dream.

There's a breathlessness to Dream's voice when he remembers he must speak to be heard in the Waking, unless he uses his powers, of which he currently is unable to do without considerable strain. Voicing things physically is more difficult than he'd remembered. It takes a sort of willpower he never quite understood and always underestimated. "...you may."

#may dream #dreamling #hob x morpheus #hob x dream #dreamling fic #the sandman fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #hurt/comfort #domestic fluff #self indulgent writing as always #this was supposed to be a one shot too but I want to write more #this fic is my outlet for whenever something bothers me lol #to turn negative emotions into soft fluffy thoughts!#virgo dream writes

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skyfumgus · 6 months

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I am sadden by the lack of pizzahead fluff fics.

Like come on man, let me read fluff of the fucking clown. I feel like it would be very cool

#pizza tower #pizzahead #even so the lack of smut and fluffy fics is disappointing #where the hell am i supposed to consume content of this guy!?

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adventureofthedancinggirl · 1 month

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Everything's Upside Down (unless I'm in your arms)

(T, 13K, Complete)

Summary:

Shouto was rotated at a 90 degree angle, halfway off the futon, with both of his legs draped over Katsuki’s knees. “What the hell?” Katsuki muttered, as he sat up to shake him awake. Shouto’s eyes snapped open. “Katsuki? What’s wrong?” Katsuki just stared at him and gestured at the way Shouto was sprawled out, with his whole upper body spilling onto the tatami mat. “What the fuck? Do you do this every night?”

Katsuki loses a lot of sleep after he and Shouto start dating, though not for the reasons one might expect.

Featuring: awkward confessions, unexpected feelings, Class A making assumptions, and important realizations about different forms of intimacy.

#this fic was supposed to be a short and fluffy thing but it kept expanding and this is the result #was not expecting to take such a deep dive into the aspec-ness of it all but i like how it turned out #dancing girl writes #fic: everything's upside down #todobaku #bakutodo #asexual todoroki #demisexual bakugou

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do-you-know-this-adhd-character · 2 months

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Do you know this (canon) ADHD character?

Proof: Discussed within the book, from chapter 2

#poll #canon adhd character #all the feels #alex woodroe #woke up early bc i still have that headache but took some meds #and it's ok enough that i can queue this #so take that headache. tried to stop ME from queuing before the post is supposed to go up #you also made me able to queue before it went up #idiot #anyways googled this book while looking for the cover image #and i think ill have to check it out #im a sucker for fluffy romance (don't read many romance books but i read a LOT of shippy fic)#and this one has good reviews #AND a canonically ADHD main character?! sign me tf up

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tswwwit · 1 year

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do they ever just…make out. like lay there for half an hour and just do it for the hell of it. or are they like hmm but we COULD be fucking let’s do that

Of course they do! It just wouldn't be very interesting to read.

#answers #It can be assumed that they do other things and that not every day is a sleep curse or an interdimensional confrontation or a smut #But since these are stories I'm only gonna write the highlights as it were #I'm guessing someone is going 'I would read these makeouts''#But realistically an exhaustive play-by-play of half an hour to an hour of them kissing would be fluffy for a while #But by paragraph five your eyes would start glazing over and you'd be skimming the text #My brain would have already long congealed from trying to come up with non-awkward synonyms for touchin' and smoochin'#Thus it does not get written #In fic though: Catch Bill initiating an extra-long makeout sesh when he's *supposed* to be like. In a meeting or something #But it turned out to be boring and he hates the people in it so he beckons Dipper over and they just kiss the whole time #It's something Dipper would go along with because A: stopping Evil from happening even if indirectly And B: Kissing Bill's very nice #SUPER obnoxious for anyone who thought they might get Bill Cipher's assist on their criminal interdimensional plans (A bonus for BIll)

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valiantstarlights · 1 year

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[Dreamling Week Day 3: Curiosity (killed the cat)] An All-Consuming Kind of Love

This fic is very much within dead dove territory, so please read the CWs and proceed with caution. But if you enjoy that kind of thing, may I shamelessly ask for incoherent yelling in your tags? Please? 🖤

CW: oh wow where do I start 😂 Student!Dream highkey seducing Professor!Hob, Hob cheating on his girlfriend Eleanor with Dream, marathon sex...everywhere, Dark!Dream, drugging someone's food, blackmail, death(?) threats, dubcon, feminization, and equally unhinged!Hob.

If anyone needs assurance after reading those tags, then rest assured that Dream and Hob will end up together and they'll live happily ever after.

The thing is, Dream Endless isn't even Hob's student. He's only sitting in for his sister, Delirium, the one who is actually enrolled in Hob's course, because she had to go to rehab.

The first time Dream showed up, he was dressed in black from head to toe, and stared at Hob so intensely that after class, Hob had to check in the bathroom to see if he had something stuck in his teeth or, god forbid, if his fly was open.

And after that day, well.

Dream still dressed in black, but his style has...branched out. The first time Hob notices the mesh shirt instead of the usual black t-shirt, it took him a second too long to tear his gaze away, and Dream had smirked. His gaze, if possible, became even more intense after that.

And then he started wearing skirts. Plaid black and grey ones that Hob should not be salivating over, especially when Dream crosses his legs.

And after that, the skirt came with fishnet stockings and high heels. Just, full-on embracing slutty schoolgirl core, or whatever the kids are calling it these days.

(Hob isn't that old. He's just 34, and his students are no more than a decade younger than him.)

No one reprimands Dream because apparently, his skirt's length is long enough to pass inspection, and there's no rule against wearing fishnet stockings or heels.

(The people doing the inspection doesn't know that Dream would often roll his skirts up until the hem would fall barely past his mid-thigh.)

Hob supposes that he should count himself lucky that Dream's tops became more conservative when he started wearing skirts. If he had paired his mesh shirt with the skirts, it would have been all over for Hob.

Luckily, Dream's tops are mostly composed of simple blouses, often with long sleeves, accessorized with a long red ribbon tied around his neck, like he was a goddamn present waiting to be unwrapped.

Hob tries very hard not to notice it when Dream pulls one end of the ribbon in class and twirls it around his long fingers. He doesn't do it hard enough to untie the ribbon, but it's enough to keep Hob's imagination churning out incredibly vivid images of what he'd like to do to Dream's pale neck.

Hob is trying very hard to be a good person. He has a girlfriend he loves. He's even thinking about proposing to her once he gets promoted.

A few weeks before Delirium is set to come back, Hob is running late, and accidentally bumps into a student while going up the stairs.

The student falls forward, and Hob barely catches them from faceplanting into the edges of the stairs. The papers they were holding aren't so lucky, however, and ends up scattering around them in a cascade of paperwork.

Hob curses but bends down and starts helping the student gather up their papers. The student, a step above him, bends down as well to start collecting their things.

"I'm sorry, Professor Gadling," the student says, and Hob looks up because he knows that voice. And sure enough, it's Dream Endless, wearing his slutty schoolgirl outfit.

Hob is just about to say that it's fine, he's the one at fault here, when he sees a sliver of the inside of Dream's blouse, and catches a glimpse of a lacy black bra.

His thoughts come to a standstill. Is Dream...also wearing female undergarments under his clothes? For some reason, the thought never occurred to him before, and the revelation has him gawking like a fool in broad daylight, leading Dream to say, "Are you alright, Professor? You look flushed."

Hob nods and keeps his head low after that, intent on just helping Dream gather his things and handing it to him so they could both get to class.

"Thank you, Professor," Dream says after Hob has given him his things. He's looking up at him through his lashes, even when they're roughly the same height. For some reason, Dream always manages make himself look smaller than Hob.

And, fuck, is he wearing make-up? Or had his lips always been that shade of pink?

Dream smiles when Hob remains transfixed, and starts going up the stairs again.

Hob's big mistake is looking up to follow Dream with his gaze.

Because Dream is wearing a thong under his skirt, and Hob can see the base of an anal plug resting between his ass cheeks.

He swears under his breath, and sure enough, Dream looks back down towards him. "Sir?" he asks, sounding demure and shy and tempting. He cocks his hips to one side and Hob could see how the plug twitched, like Dream just squeezed tight around it.

"I'm fine," Hob says through gritted teeth, and speedwalks his way up the stairs and a couple of corridors to reach the lecture hall.

Dream arrives not long after him and makes sure to sit in the very front row, legs slightly open, eyes dark, daring, wanting, allowing Hob to take a look.

Hob spends the rest of the class behind his desk to hide his erection.

Hob can't pinpoint when exactly he admits to himself that he wants to fuck one of his students.

(Again, technically, Dream isn't even his student, but the fact that he's using the word 'technically' already means he knows he's in big trouble.)

Was it when Hob rushed out of the lecture hall the very same day he bumped into Dream on the stairs, his messenger bag placed strategically in front of his crotch area?

He couldn't help it if his thoughts were racing, and his body was quicker than his mind. He couldn't help it if the thought of sliding Dream's thong to the side, removing his plug, and sliding right into his slutty little hole had him locking himself up in a bathroom stall and jerking himself off furiously.

Was it when Dream came to class eating a red lollipop so lasciviously that even a couple of students stared at him in lust? Was it after, when he coldly turned down the Corinthian twins' offer to fuck him?

Was it when Hob was having sex with his girlfriend one night and almost moans out Dream's name when he came?

Or is it today, when Dream is sucking on a popsicle in the quad, in plain sight of Hob's office window? When Dream deepthroats the popsicle while gazing lustfully into Hob's eyes?

Is it when Hob tilts his head just so, beckoning Dream to come to his office? Hob's consultation hours just finished, after all, and he's just about to head home for the weekend.

When did Hob realize that thoughts of Dream have consumed him? He doesn't know.

But perhaps it was on the very first day Dream came to his lecture hall and their eyes met. When Hob thought how cute Dream was and how unfortunate that he was his student. And then delighting, afterwards, when he finds out that Dream isn't his student, at least not officially.

Hob pins Dream against the door as soon as he enters his office and fucks his tongue inside Dream's still slightly cold mouth.

"Fucking tease," Hob mutters against Dream's lips, almost ripping his white blouse in his haste to put his mouth on Dream's bra. On Dream's tits.

"Professor Gadling," Dream moans breathily, not even pretending he doesn't want this. One of his long fishnet-clad legs is already hooked around Hob's waist. Fuck. This flexible little minx. Hob wants to see just how far he could bend Dream in half. "We shouldn't--ah, here--"

"Then where do you want me to fuck you, hmm? In my car in the middle of the parking lot? In the apartment I share with my girlfriend?" Hob bites Dream's throat and soothes the skin with his tongue. "Or maybe you want me to fuck you raw in your dorm room. Do you have roommates, baby? Do you want them to watch?"

Dream squirms in his arms, panting, trying to dissuade Hob from stripping him naked. He looks absolutely delectable, and Hob is intent on finally untying that damn red ribbon from his neck and marking him up with his teeth. "I..." Dream licks his lips and runs delicate fingers against Hob's stubble. "My family has a cabin. It's about an hour's drive away. We could--"

"You want me to drive us to your family's fancy cabin for a fuck?" Hob asks and grinds his erection against Dream's, watching in rapt attention how he keens and throws his head back against the door in pleasure. "When I can just take you right here against the door?"

Dream shakes his head. He's blushing so prettily, suddenly so shy, that Hob leans forward and gives him another filthy kiss.

"Professor!" Dream protests, and actually pushes him back a little. Not enough to dislodge Hob's body against his, but enough so they could talk face to face. "I was thinking...maybe...for the whole weekend?"

Oh, fuck.

"You want me to fuck you for an entire weekend?" An eager nod. "In your family's cabin?" Another eager nod, and a hopeful, chaste kiss to his chin. Dream is so fucking sweet and sexy at the same time that Hob doesn't know what to do with him. "Baby, I don't think I can drive like this." He grinds his cock against Dream again, and Dream responds this time by reaching between them and fondling Hob through his slacks.

"It's okay, Professor," Dream says, smiling impishly. "I'll take the edge off for you."

Despite Dream torturing Hob with his slutty outfits for what feels like several months already, Dream proves that he can be a very good boy when he wants to.

"You should call your girlfriend, sir," he says, lips slick and red and tempting, Hob's cockhead resting against his lower lip. Hob has already cum in his mouth once, and true to Dream's word, it has taken the edge off. Hob could think more clearly now. "So she wouldn't worry. Tell her you have a conference or something."

Hob chuckles and smears his cum across Dream's lips more. "How considerate of you to think about my girlfriend worrying about me when I'll be spending the entire weekend fucking you."

Dream pouts, not even saying anything in reply to that, and Hob immediately caves.

Hob calls Eleanor to tell her about a sudden teacher's conference being held this weekend while Dream warms his cock.

He mouths 'good boy,' to Dream, who blinks coquettishly up at him, but part of Hob thinks he's the good boy in this scenario, just doing what Dream wants him to do.

He doesn't get to say 'I love you,' to Eleanor because when he was about to, Dream sucks him so good that he had to hang up and muffle his groan against his fist.

Halfway through the drive, Dream makes Hob stop the car so he could suck his cock again.

Barely a couple of miles after that, Hob stops the car so he could fuck Dream's thighs in the backseat.

Once in the cabin, they barely make it to the bed, but make it they do. Hob wants Dream to be comfortable when he takes Hob's cock in his ass. Hob knows he's much larger than average, and he would hate to see Dream in pain.

He's not a total monster. Sure, he may lie to his girlfriend so he could fuck his student's brother for an entire weekend, but he's not going to treat said student's brother badly. He's better than that.

Hob eats Dream out twice before he even enters him, sucks on his nipples until they're red and swollen as they fuck, and finally gets to mark Dream's neck with his teeth.

He fucks Dream's hole until he's gaping and leaking cum because he's unable to clench his hole closed enough to stop the flow. Hob teases him that they should perhaps switch to a larger plug to accommodate his loose pussy, but does no such thing. He likes it when Dream has to concentrate and keep clenching his ass in between rounds so he could keep the plug in place.

All the while Dream begs for more of him. For everything.

And Hob gives it to him.

They fuck the entire weekend. On the bed, in the bathroom, against the walls, Dream bent over various furniture, on the rug in front of the fireplace, against the kitchen counters, outside on the front porch, on the hood of Hob's car...

Hob is surprised at himself. He's not that young anymore, but give him one Dream Endless and he feels like he's at the peak of his youth again.

Hob tells himself it's only his desperation making him vigorous. He's only going to get Dream this weekend, and after that, who knows? When Delirium comes back, would Dream still feel the need to sit in on Hob's class, or is this it? Is Dream going to move on to seducing someone else?

No.

Every time Hob thinks that, Dream seducing someone else, another professor, another man, he pushes himself and fucks the boy harder.

Unacceptable. Hob is going to ruin him for everyone else, just like how Dream has been set on ruining him from day one.

Dream sometimes says, 'I love you,' to Hob when he's getting fucked so good that his eyes roll up to the back of his skull, but Hob thinks it's just something Dream says without knowing he's saying it. Many people say things during sex that they don't mean.

But when Dream says, "Mine," right after the two of them collapsed in bed after yet another round of fucking, Hob says, "All yours this weekend, yeah."

And Dream says, "Well see."

It's Sunday night and Hob is supposed to drive them both back to civilization. Dream has insisted upon dinner before leaving, though, and Hob is loathe to reject him because Dream has been working hard, cooking throughout the day in between their rounds, and Hob knows he's going to miss this.

(Dream has banned him from the kitchen as he cooks. Hob thinks he's adorable but follows his instruction anyway.)

He feels something warm in his heart as he sees the spread of food that Dream has been preparing. Roasted lamb, venison pasties, fruit tarts--all of them Hob's favorite.

('How did he know?' a tiny voice in Hob's mind asks, but is quickly ignored in favor of taking in Dream's shy smile.)

"Did you cook all this from scratch?" Hob asks, awed. Eleanor doesn't cook. It's either Hob cooks for them both or they order in. He doesn't feel bitter about it. It's just the way they are.

"Yes," Dream says simply. "I want to be able to cook well for you."

Oh. Oh. An uncomfortable feeling rises in Hob's stomach.

Dream loves him.

Actually wants to date him.

This is a very bad idea.

"Dream..."

Dream ignores the tone of Hob's voice and sits on one side of the table. Hob belatedly realizes that, although there is a lot of food on the table, the table itself is small enough to be intimate. Like the two of them are on a date. "Let's eat."

"Dream," Hob says in-between bites of the really excellent pasties. "You know I have a girlfriend."

"I do," Dream says. "I even asked you to call her, didn't I?"

"And you know that I love her."

A pause. "Sure."

"So this, between us-- You know it can never happen again, right?" Like Hob isn't the one dead set on ruining Dream for any future lover.

Dream shrugs and sips his wine. He has barely eaten, but Hob saw him tasting the food earlier, so he figures Dream made all of this for him, and is just enjoying seeing Hob eat. Hob is the same sometimes, so he cannot fault Dream for having the same habit. "If you say so."

Hob wakes due to the early morning sunlight hitting his face directly.

He's confused for a second, because his bedroom in the apartment isn't facing east, before the events of last night came rushing back to him.

The delicious dinner. Dream drinking wine. Feeling increasingly dizzy. Dream rushing towards him so he wouldn't fall to the floor. Passing out with Dream telling him everything's going to be alright.

Hob thought it was strange that Dream wasn't panicking or rushing to grab his phone to call the hospital.

And now, Hob is tied to the bed, naked, arms and legs bound to the bed posts with silk ropes. Gagged. He tries tugging on the ropes to no avail. Whoever tied him up knew what they were doing.

He is alone in the room, but not for long.

Dream enters a few minutes later, probably alerted by the sounds Hob had been making in his bid to escape his bonds, wearing only a short fluffy bathrobe. He's holding Hob's phone in his hands

'Dream!' Hob tries to say. It comes out muffled through the gag.

"Good morning, Professor," Dream says, smiling. He leans over and kisses him on the cheek. "Will you be good for me today?"

'What the fuck are you playing at! Let go of me!'

"That doesn't sound like a 'yes,'" Dream remarks. "Maybe you need a little incentive to cooperate?"

Dream climbs on the bed then, sitting his naked and already lubed-up ass against Hob's member, which did not get the memo and is currently growing thicker despite the predicament Hob is in.

Dream flips over Hob's phone to show him the screen, and Hob sees his 'incentive' to be good.

It's a picture of Dream, curled up naked in his arms, asleep. One of Hob's arms is looped around his body in a possessive hold, and the other is holding the phone up for a selfie. Hob's face isn't shown, but his students would know his chin and neck and hair. Eleanor would know his chest and arms.

Hob's blood runs cold. It was an impossible shot that wouldn't be possible if it's only him and Dream in the cabin, so there must another person who helped Dream carry Hob, arranged the two of them in bed, and took the photo while propping up Hob's arm to make it look like Hob is the one taking it.

Hob remembers the large, muscled, red-haired man he saw once or twice in campus with Dream. At first, he thought it was Dream's boyfriend, but finds out from overhearing a couple of students that the man is one of Dream's brothers. Hob isn't sure who the older brother is between the two.

Dream sits patiently on top of him as he's having these realizations. "Should I send this to your girlfriend, Professor?" he asks, when he sees Hob's eyes focus on him once more. "Or are you going to be good for me?"

Hob nods decisively. He'll say he's gonna be good. But the moment he gets free, he'll grab his phone from Dream, delete the picture--

Dream smiles and grinds down on him a little. His cock twitches and oozes out precome, which Dream scoops up from Hob's lower stomach and licks from his fingers, humming in delight at the taste. "My brother is nearby," he says, pleasant as anything. "If he sees you harming me, you're not even going to make it back to your car. And before you ask, we have already siphoned the gas, and removed the car battery."

Hob feels tears pricking his eyes. What the fuck...who the fuck are these people?

"Do you understand now, Professor?" Dream asks. "I said you're mine. And I'm not in the habit of lying. Or sharing, come to think of it."

Hob nods, timidly this time. How the fuck has this gone so wrong? Was there even a warning sign that Hob should have noticed before it came to this?

Dream smiles and kisses him chastely on the chin. "Good. Now, Professor, I want you to be very, very well-behaved for me..."

"Professor Gadling!" Dream squeals, thighs opened wide and shaking, his breath stuttering as Hob fucks him hard from behind. "O-oh gods, please, your cock feels so good!"

"You like this, Dream?" Hob says against his ear, enjoying, despite everything, this sick sadistic play. All he has to do is play along, and he's going to be fine. Everything will go back to normal. He's going to go back to his job, to his girlfriend, and put all this behind him. Maybe he'll request a transfer next semester. Somewhere as far as they could send him. "You like me splitting you open like a whore?"

Dream nods frantically and lets out a high pitched whine. "Y-yes, sir. I love...I love being filled with your cum. I love sitting on your cock all day." He gasps as Hob starts stroking his cock in time with his thrusts. "Professor, please..!"

"Please what, darling? What do you want? Tell me." The endearment slips out of him accidentally, and he feels Dream squeeze him thrice in quick succession as a reward. He curses and pounds him harder. "So fucking tight. Best damn cunt I ever put my cock in."

That line wasn't part of the script.

Dream moans at that unexpected treat and turns his head to the side, begging for a kiss. Hob grants it to him. He fucks Dream's mouth with his tongue and uses his free hand to cup one of Dream's tits. A perfect fucking handful. He twists the nipple and imagines milk squirting out of it. Imagines Dream's milk-heavy tits leaking in class, his eyes filled with tears because he can't wait for the hour to be over so Hob could nurse from him right on his desk. Imagines Dream pushing him down on the desk so he can ride him after Hob drinks his fill. Imagines him pushing aside his lacy panties and holding his skirt up as Hob fucks up into him, giving him his daily dose of cum.

"Gonna breed you, baby," Hob says. People say things they don't mean during sex. It's perfectly normal. "Not gonna let you out of this damn bed until you're round with my cum, and then I'm gonna marry you so you can be my slut forever."

Dream shrieks and cums at his words, and as Hob continues railing him to overstimulation, he gasps out, "Yes, yes, please sir--want you to marry me--I'm yours, just yours--ah--"

Hob pushes in deep and cums inside again, moaning Dream's name out loud, then peppers his sweet boy's tear-streaked face and pale neck with fervent little kisses.

Maybe he's just as fucked up as Dream is, and maybe he always has been.

There is a red light blinking in the corner of the room, recording.

Only one of the room's current occupants know that it's there.

To: Eleanor

I'm with someone else now, and he's better than you ever were. I love him and we just got married. I'll send someone to get my things.

Hob sends that message himself, but he sends a different photo than the one Dream threatened to send. It's of Dream wearing all white lingerie. Bralette, lacy panties, garter belt, stockings--the entire thing, but he's also wearing a beautiful wedding veil, and he's holding a bouquet of white roses. He's kneeling in bed and is splattered with Hob's cum from forehead to groin, looking incandescently happy, smiling up at the camera with eyes full of love.

Hob turns off his phone and throws it to the side, intending on going back to bed to ruin his baby boy even more.

Dream welcomes him with open arms, smile shy but looking so goddamn happy.

"You're all mine now, aren't you, baby?" Hob asks, pushing his husband back on the bed and spreading his legs so Hob could see the mess he made earlier. He grips one cheek and watches as a dollop of cum oozes out of Dream's hole and onto the bedsheets.

Dream leans up and kisses him, winding his long stockinged legs around Hob's waist and welcoming Hob's cock back into his fucked out hole once more. They are surrounded by white rose petals from the bouquet. Dream must have plucked and scattered them throughout their marriage bed while Hob was sending his last message to Eleanor. Always so fucking romantic. Hob can't wait to reward Dream for being so good to him.

"All yours forever, Professor Gadling."

#??? ?????#trust me idk either #i was supposed to write for the synesthesia prompt 🥲 it was supposed to be fluffy #anyway have another dark spicy fic from me #i'm sorry eleanor but in this au you deserve better #(chokes upon seeing the wordcount) what do you mean this is 3500 plus words worth of filth unedited #good job my thumbs #like holy shit very good job 👏👏👏 you deserve a wahoo 🎉🎉🎉#dreamling #DreamlingWeek #DreamlingWeek2023 #the sandman #my writing #dream (pouting at destruction): help me seduce del's professor #destruction: ok but what will I get in return?#dream (rummaging through his things): I have a ball of string and a coupon so you could adopt a dog from the shelter #destruction: alright deal

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