#pavonis writes

[delta-pavonis]

Fic: can't take it back once it's been set in motion

Jayvik (Jayce Talis/Viktor from Arcane/League of Legends) || Rated E || 5k words || complete

Alternate Universe (Canon Divergence), getting together, rope kink, rope bondage, dom/sub, D/s, subspace, chronic pain, BDSM, pain play, impact play, anal sex, oral sex, anal play, hand jobs, masochistic Viktor, topping from the bottom, dom Viktor, just because Viktor likes being tied up and fucked into "subspace" doesn't mean he is a sub most of the time, bottom Jayce, Jayce is naturally a sub and will do absolutely anything for Viktor including fuck him stupid, mention of fisting, jealous Viktor

Viktor can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. It shouldn't remind him of… make him think of… He forces himself to look up. Jayce is excited, gesturing in between each bit of knotwork and completely oblivious to the building turmoil within his partner. “So I found these books on mathematical knot theory in the Academy library and I suddenly thought that maybe we could use some of these ideas in how we chain runes together. And then I started looking at real knots and-” That's where Viktor loses the thread, eyes drifting back to Jayce's hands. Which are still fidgeting. Tying. Untying.

Read on AO3

[delta-pavonis]

This is 100% the start of an absolutely bad ass story about how Laika knew, as all dogs who are born with the fate to be Guardians know, that this would be her eternity. To Protect.

Little did she know she wasn't just destined to be a Guardian. She was destined to be THE Guardian.

And so, half a millennium after her death, when the (insert hostile fleet of species or dark cosmic force here) comes for Earth, Laika is goddamned *ready.*

Amusingly, we humans, in our self-centeredness, are none the wiser at the time.

But in the future after that, when humans finally have overcome the bullshit they have created on Earth and are actually in a place to truly explore outside the Solar System, they dock with alien space stations and land to exchange diplomacy with other planet's inhabitants only to be greeted with hushed whispers and stilted formalities.

"Watch yourself. Laika protects them."

I drew a little something for the Hiveworks micro comic summer~

[delta-pavonis]

Fic: Solar Futhark

Dreamling (Solarpunk Urban Fantasy AU) | Rated E | 8.2k words | complete

CW: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Solarpunk, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Drow!Dream, Druid!Dream, Half-elf!Hob, GunslingerBard!Hob, investigators, work partners, partners to lovers, banter, temporary bodyswap, being captured, held prisoner together, starvation, tied together, confessions under duress, love confessions, soulmates, mates, escape, prison break, animal transformation, possessive Dream, matriarchal drow society, subjugated male drow, male gestation, male pregnancy, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of platonic soulmates, Dream has a cock and a cunt, pussy eating champion Hob Gadling, cunnilingus, oral sex, vaginal fingering, squirting and vaginal ejaculation, vaginal sex, anal fingering, hair-pulling, rough sex, cum slut Dream, sex magic, Hob probably has a copy of the Belmont Book of Penis Spells, large cock, multiple orgasms, discussion of fisting, happy ending

(AO3 hates me right now, so I will post this there later.)

Hob cackles as he tucks the large hourglass under his arm and fucking runs.

“Oh, what the hell…” Dream drops the vase of flowers he had been planning on using as an improvised weapon and takes off after his partner. A partner who is rapidly climbing the rankings for stupidest sentient being Dream has ever known. “Gadling! What in the name of every god extant and extinct do you think you are doing?”

The half-elf startles for just a moment as Dream easily catches up to him despite his head start and the crowded market streets. “This is evidence, right?”

At this rate Dream is going to pull a muscle rolling his eyes at Hob. “We do not steal evidence! I do not have the least idea of where you learned how to be an investig–”

“Pirates!” He chirrups happily, skidding around a corner as horns start to sound the alarm throughout the resonant underground halls of the Duergar city.

The answer is so absurd that Dream is struck speechless. 

Then a rumble sounds to their right and it has Dream reaching across Hob's chest to grab his gun in its shoulder holster under his duster. Luckily the gun and the hourglass are not under the same arm, because Dream is completely out of spells, both divine and arcane. He jumps ahead up the stairs and twists, taking two shots at their pursuers and grinning when he hears a shout of explicatives.

Another set of stairs, then they are scrambling up a wall, grabbing the bottom rung of a camouflaged ladder, and are back in the surface’s sewers before the next round of horns sound. Dream slides the cover over the secret entrance and breathes a sigh of relief as, with a golden shimmer, it seals itself once again.

Panting and apparently completely uncaring of the state of the water around their feet, Hob drops to his arse with a thud. Little bits of duckweed and algae slop up onto Dream’s boots.

“We should keep moving.” Dream scowls at his footwear as he also breathes in huge, heaving gulps. “We don't know the power of their artificers and–”

“Don't have ‘em,” Hob shakes his head. “It made bartering for certain items with them a total crapcircus because they didn't value the same basic material goods. Everything they do is mechanical. Non-magic. Luckily we didn't get stuck down there often.” Dream just stares at him; theoretically those are all common words, but fuck if he parses their meaning right now with the adrenaline crash just starting to take its toll. Hob smirks, lopsided and definitely not charming. Absolutely not. “Pirates, remember?”

He feels a headache coming on and so pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you actually trying to tell me that before joining the Houndsguild you were a Hawkshaw?”

“Uh… yes?” Hob blinks at him as if Dream is the one asking the dumb question. “Thirteen years. Is that so hard to believe?”

Dream just stares. If this half-elf was a Hawkshaw, one of the pirate codekeepers (the closest to lawmen such outlaws might ever get), then there is so much more here to uncover, so much more to Hob, that he isn't even sure where to start. Hob drops back down in Dream's mental rankings of stupidity. Dream breathes out and now, a little calmer, some of Hob's behaviors slot into place. The impulsivity. The recklessness. The charisma to get himself out of just about any problem caused by said impulsivity and recklessness. “No, actually, now that I think of it. It makes some sense.”

The smile that brightens Hob's face is also extremely not charming. Or cute. No. Not at all. “Help me up?” He holds out his hand and Dream automatically grips his forearm as he continues to speak, “I know we got off on the wrong foot when we first met, but I hope you are coming to realize that in this, in solving cases like these at least, I am actually competent.”

Dream grudgingly nods, but also cannot resist the opportunity for a good jibe. “It at least explains why when we first met you were balls deep in the barmaid bouncing on your lap in the middle of a crowded tavern.” He smirks back, trying to convey that he isn't really judging, just teasing. “Never met a Hawkshaw who didn't want to be the absolute center of attention.”

Hob splutters out a laugh and gets his feet under him, blushing all the while. “Hey there! It is a specific tactic! Think of it like slight-of-hand and bardic performance had a baby, but it acts on a group level. While everyone is busy watching me…”

“Your fellows are working without being noticed.” Dream shakes his head ruefully, ceding the point to Hob. “Not bad.”

“Fun, too.” Hob's grin goes lopsided again as he waggles his eyebrows and he stares at Dream for a beat longer than necessary. Dream has to resist fidgeting under that warm gaze and so distracts himself with their usual banter.

“If that is your kink, then I am sure it is fun.” Speaking of fun, watching Hob's eyes widen and his neck flush when Dream says the word ‘kink’ is extremely fun. He studies his fingernails and tries to exude nonchalance. “Exhibitionism isn't really to my taste, though. More of a leather and ropes type myself.” He hears Hob inhale sharply and smirks, still not looking up. “Did you know that if you get strips of leather soaking wet they shrink and constrict as they dry?”

Dream looks at Hob through his lashes, sees him open-mouthed and panting, eyes dilated. Delightful. 

Maybe he will be able to get through this partnership with his dignity intact after all. Or, at least, Dream certainly won't be the first one to lose his composure.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

“Got you,” Hob thrills at hearing the voice he now commands come out as that rumbling purr he loves so much. “Do you yield?”

He looks down to see his own face twisted with a sneer that is familiar but he has never seen on his own features. “Absolutely not.” 

It is decidedly strange to hear his own voice this way–not quite similar enough to trigger the embarrassment one feels when listening to a recording, but still disconcerting. 

Then again, all of this is disconcerting and decidedly strange. He is currently inhabiting the body of his work partner, a drow who Hob had fallen ass over tea kettle for decades ago. He is using said drow’s body to pin his own to the dirt in a forest clearing outside the overgrown castle ruins they just investigated. They are now speaking again after a long stretch of silence, a silence that was only interrupted because their respective bosses told them they had to work together on this case. Which was very much not how Hob had imagined their reconnection going, but beggars can't be choosers. Or so humans say.

Hob is learning quickly that drow not only look different than other elf-kin, but that they see, hear, and smell differently, too. It makes sense, given that their senses are attuned to a vastly different environment, but as a half wood-elf he had just never thought of it before.

As Hob lowers his face, Dream's long white hair cascades over his shoulder. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

He flexes his hands around the wrists he has pinned and spreads them wider, giving him a stance with the leverage to hop up and have his feet come down between Dream-in-his-body’s calves with enough force to pry his legs apart. The elf beneath him grunts as his thighs splay and their pelvises crash together. Even through the spelled denim they wear Hob can feel how aroused his friend is, no matter how he denies or ignores it.

“I feel it is rather narcissistic of you to enjoy the possibility of a sexual encounter with your own body.” He relishes the breathlessness he can hear in his own voice, how the body beneath him trembles. Hob knows exactly what has to happen to drive his own body to that point and if he is causing that in Dream… well. He was rather hoping they could have one of their catfight fuck sessions before the curse wears off.

“Come on,” Hob says, enjoying the rough, raw sexuality he can convey with just a slight change in tone with Dream’s vocal cords. “It gives a whole new meaning to go fuck yourself.”

It is fascinating to see what is so clearly Dream's eyeroll cross his own face. Drow vision is far more sensitive to movement than his own and it allows Hob to see even the slightest twitch of brow or flutter of lashes or movement of lips. It is kind of distracting, all this detail.

But that is nothing compared to the distraction of this sense of smell. Hob is no doubt never ever going to get this chance again, so he might as well indulge a little while he can. He drops his face into his own neck and inhales deeply. “Tannatell’s tits do I always smell this good to you?” Hob repeats the act, this time dragging his nose up into chestnut hair as he breathes in. “How can you work like this? I’d be on the edge of coming all the goddamned time. No wonder progress on this case has been so slow, you’re the smart one and you only have half your blood going to your brain. Fuck, it is like I am… your...” he trails off as that thought completes itself in his head. 

Oh.

Now, drow vision might have traded brightness of color for its enhanced sensitivity to motion, but there is no doubt, when Hob lifts back up and looks down, that there is a fiercely red blush on Dream's cheeks. And Dream refuses to meet his gaze.

Hob lets go of the wrists he holds and sits back on his heels so he is kneeling between Dream's thighs. He watches as the other elf brings his hands to his chest, rubbing gently at them where Hob's grip was tightest. Dream keeps his head turned to the side the whole time. 

“Dream, why didn't you t-”

“Don't. Just don't.” His eyes close and his face crumples into something pained. It guts Hob to think that this is something painful for Dream. “The first time we talk about this can't be like… I do not want it to…” Hob has never heard Dream fumble for words and it is distressingly alarming. “I would prefer to be in my own body when we have this conversation, please.”

Hob can't do anything but grant that request.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

“If we get out of this the first thing I am doing is getting a three hour massage, bloody fuck these chains are tight.” Dream tries to twist his wrist to get some wiggle room and can't even manage that; all the movement does is jostle their chairs. His partner whines. “You alright there, Hob?”

They are chained to a pair of chairs, back to back, with heavy steel links. The chains aren't spelled, but they don't need to be when they are this tight: there is no way Dream will pull off even the smallest somatic component restrained like this and Hob certainly can’t play an instrument or draw a gun. Even worse, the room is unnaturally dark.

Dream hadn’t realized how used he had gotten to the sunlight and the greenery of the surfacelands until they were taken from him. For a moment he takes comfort in thoughts of twirling tree branches forming the beams of great towers, arched windows carefully grown in between, columns of elevators going so high they meet the top of the buildings in the clouds. He thinks of winding streets made of sandstone and brass and overflowing with greenery, the whirring music of solar panels as they track the sunlight along with their flower-kin. 

The thought of the movement of the sun reminds Dream that time has been passing, that they have been in here long enough that he is starting to have trouble tracking time–the only clock he has to go by is his heartbeat and that is only reliable for so long. Hunger has long since passed into a dull ache, which tells him it must be more than a couple days. Both of them have vacated all the remaining volume of foodstuffs left in their digestive tracts, removing another marker of time. 

They have not seen another soul since they awoke here. There is a dim illumination that comes from… somewhere, but Dream cannot pinpoint it. It is only enough to see his own knees by, make out the faintest outline of the large stone blocks of the ceiling that is a mere few feet above their heads. It is not enough for Hob to see anything, dull as his half-human senses are. 

Cruelly enough, water drips from the seams in the stone structure in a few places, landing on the top of their heads, on Hob’s shoulder and chest, on Dream’s cheek. It is the bare minimum to keep them alive and Dream suspects that is very much on purpose.

Dream leans his head back with a sigh and it presses against Hob's. 

“You ever wonder what would have happened if we met under different circumstances?” Hob's speech is slurred enough that it makes Dream reconsider if those arrows they got hit with were a poison targeted for those of the surface. It adds a new layer to the puzzle of who has captured them. “Like, if I wasn't working that night in the tavern, wasn't being the biggest distraction possible?” He is silent for a beat. “I would've asked to join you at your table. Started to chat you up properly. Instead of pretending we were old buddies as part of the case I was working. Because we’re not friends, are we?” His chuckle is hollow. “No, most definitely not. Perhaps I would’ve tried to woo you with song… paint you a picture with music. Gods, you were so beautiful. Are. So beautiful.”

“Hob…” He doesn't sound like himself, can't possibly be meaning to say any of this. 

“Do you have any idea how badly I want you? Fuck, like all the time. From the very first moment I saw you, the swish-click of your air walker boots on the tavern floor, noticeable to a trained ear even with the din of patrons.” Dream can hear him swallow. “It never goes away, you know? This yearning for you. It lives inside me now.”

He closes his eyes and tries to ignore it. Hob cannot be meaning to say this right now and Dream certainly does not want to hear it without Hob’s consent; he is relieved when they lapse into silence once again. 

But it doesn't last.

“If you get a chance to escape, you have to promise me to take it, even if you can't get me out.” Hob’s voice is a threadbare whisper.

No. They can't talk like this. He won't have it. “Hob, you’re-”

“I am not delirious and I am not talking nonsense!” He is panting now and Dream swears he can hear Hob's racing heartbeat. It is another piece of evidence that he is not himself. “Promise me, Dream. Promise me you will save yourself if you have the chance, even at my expense.”

“No.” Absolutely not. Dream's answer is immediate and brooks no argument; he won't even consider it. The idea is anathema, like teaching the Druidic language outside of a Circle or attempting to unbalance Nature itself. “I will not leave without you.” 

Hob’s breath rate is increasing, pushing into hyperventilating, and his voice is unsteady as a newborn foal’s legs. He sounds almost on the verge of tears and it makes something in Dream’s heart crack. “Please, Dream! I need you to promise me.”

He grits his teeth hard enough to make them squeak. “I will make no such vow.” Dream growls. It is harsh, he knows, but he will also not lie to Hob. Not after everything they’ve been through. 

They never got a chance to talk about it, what lay implied between them from their adventure with that soul-swapping curse. Not properly. Not before this case, which pretty much immediately went tits up. Fuck, they should have spoken about it. 

Dream adds this to his long ledger of regrets.

When Hob speaks again the words are clearly forced through a rising tide of panic. “I need to know you’ll be safe, that y-” 

“Breathe Hob. We don’t need to plan-”

“Promise me!” he sobs. “I need to know you wi-”

The crack in Dream's heart cleaves it in two.

“I will not leave without my Mate!”

For a moment the only sound in the small room is Hob’s panting, then Dream lets his head fall back; this time it lands on Hob’s shoulder with a dull whump.

“You were right. What you felt during the curse.” Dream closes his eyes. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I just… we were… we’ve been…”

Hob turns his head, twists his shoulders, as much as possible, until his nose nudges the point of Dream’s ear. “Stupid. We’ve been truly. Amazingly. Stupid.” 

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

They crawl out of the cave system into a raging thunderstorm. Might as well be a hurricane for how the wind is blowing the rain and trees sideways. However, the sight of cypress trees and the salty smell of the ocean limits the possible places that they have been taken to. 

“Holy shit we're in Port Essen!” Hob gasps in breathless laughter. When Dream looks at him he is smiling, almost glowing, underneath all the dirt and grime and soil and debris they are covered with, that is all rapidly turning to mud as the forceful winds and driving rain wash them clean. He looks to Dream and it is like the sun has risen, warmth diffusing through Dream's skin. “I grew up here!”

That raises a red flag in the back of Dream's mind–he doesn't believe in coincidences. 

“We need to move. Get as far away as possible. Fast. Get on.” Dream doesn't say more, doesn't explain, just grabs some of the reedy dunegrass at his feet and pops it into his mouth as he makes the appropriate hand motions. 

Hob lets out a yelp as Dream transforms into a dire elk, huge and black. He wouldn't be able to fly in such rain and he has no meat for a spell component, so his dragon form is out; the elk will give Hob a smoother ride over the widest variety of terrain. 

Once fully shifted Dream drops onto folded legs, but that still means his back is at about the height of a horse, so he angles his head towards Hob to lend an antler for leverage.

Luckily Hob catches on quickly, hefting himself up onto Dream with a grunt. “West,” he says as he buries his hands in the ruff of thick fur around Dream's neck, “We’ll hit forest and freshwater fastest if we go west.”

Dream stands, looks back at Hob once to make sure he is settled, and then leaps into action. Hob lets out another yelp the first time Dream lands from a bound, but he sets a rhythm and the bard in Hob cues onto it almost immediately. 

Then he outright laughs.

“Dream,” he whispers into his fur, must be leaning over to get so close to his ear, “you are amazing, dove.”

Dream would laugh as well, if he could. 

He has never had a rider before, not in any shifted form he has taken, and that it is Hob on his back, moving fluidly with him, legs around him, clinging to him… well. Apparently one doesn’t need wings to fly.

But first they need to disappear. They need to get gone and regroup and get food and maybe bathe in a cold stream and start assembling their meager knowledge of their captors so that they can send out feelers for information and start the tedious process of revenge. 

Because Dream will eat their hearts raw for making this the bower in which he told Hob the nature of their connection. He will make them watch as he sucks the marrow from their living bones for how they have treated his Mate. He cares not that he himself has been tortured; Dream has done more than enough terrible things in his life to have earned such an experience. But Hob? No. He will not let them survive this insult.

However, getting to that point, when he will be able to revel in the suffering of those who caused so much of the same, will take time. Dream is always thorough in his planning.

And while they wait, keeping to the shadows and gathering their knowledge and power, Dream will sup upon his Mate. He will devour the finest meal he will ever have. Savor the small pieces that he can pick up between his fingers and drop into his mouth and lick from under his fingernails. Drink long draughts of pleasure of Hob’s body and thereby nourish his own soul. Dream has been starving and did not know it, did not really understand what he was missing, until his body was weakened by the captivity and his mind sharpened by the pain his Mate experienced. 

Dream vaults over some rocky ground, avoiding it completely, and then as they crest a hill the treeline comes into sight and he could cry for the relief of it. Within the embrace of the forest Dream will have all the tools he needs to keep them safe. And then he can look towards the future. 

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

The most shocking thing, honestly, is how shocked Hob isn't.

“Dream,” he sounds like he is calming a skittish horse, “I have been in love with you for literal decades. This isn't a problem for me. So we're tied together on a metaphysical level, so what?”

The druid just blinks. 

Hob sighs, running a hand through his hair as he relaxes back against the trunk of the tree. It reveals the gentle point to his ears and Dream has a bolt of desire lance through him, urging him to put his mouth there. He shoves it to the side.

They are deep in the densest portions of this forest now, having ridden for hours, past the midsummer sun setting and the quarter moon rising. They slept almost immediately once they stopped running, along the banks of a creek deep enough to wade into. Once sleep was had, Dream went hunting while Hob washed their clothing, which now lies drying on some rocks and tree branches close by. They have been so exhausted that only now is Dream noticing that Hob being completely naked is rather… distracting.

The trees, strangers though they are to Dream, have generously given them ample shelter on the creek’s bank; even if someone does get close they likely won't see or hear a hint of them through the lush greenery. The maple Hob leans against has been particularly taken with the half wood elf, although Dream is unsure if Hob notices the tree doting on him, swaying its leaves to keep him shaded despite the moving morning sun.

“I’ll be the first to admit that I know close to fuck all about drow, your culture, your biology… really just what is told in popular stories, movies, whatnot, which may or may not have truth in them.” His head thumps back against the tree trunk and he has to tilt to the side to look at Dream. “But tell me what I need to learn and I’ll learn it. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it. The last thing I want is to be a burden to you, Dream.”

A burden?

Dream shakes his head, as much to clear it as to disabuse Hob of such a notion. “No, Hob, I…” He searches for the words and none come, stubborn as they often are, so he decides on action instead. 

Looking Hob directly in the eyes, Dream crawls across the space between them, over the gunslinger's legs, and sits with his knees on either side of Hob's thighs. He is so warm beneath Dream that the drow shivers, but all Hob can seem to do is stare in shock at the fact that they are naked and Dream is in his lap.

By the Gods it feels good to be this close to his Mate. It will feel better to touch.

Hob gasps when Dream's hands land on his chest, slide up slowly to his shoulders, his neck. He takes time to savor every hill and valley. Mine. One hand moves higher, fingers curling around the top of an ear, petting softly and making Hob’s mouth drop open and his eyes flutter closed. 

“You are not a burden, Hob Gadling,” Dream reassures. “Far from it. You have heard that traditional drow society is matriarchal, yes?” Hob nods but doesn’t open his eyes, instead leans into Dream’s hand on the side of his head. “Add soulmates to that and who do you think gets to end up with the Mate they truly want?”

Hob looks at him at that. “Are soulmates not perfectly matched? Made for each other? Fated?”

“Mmm, a topic of much debate.” Dream cards through Hob's hair with his fingers as he talks. “At its core ‘soulmate’ for drow seems only to mean you are tied to each other deeply. For better… or ill. And it is certainly true that you can fall in love with someone who is not your Mate. There have even been drow who found themselves unattracted to their soulmate, at least sexually.”

Hob’s hands alight oh so carefully on Dream's thighs, a touch radically different than during the adrenaline-fueled ‘work partners plus sex' arrangement they have had for the past few months. And the touch is light years different than their first time together, when an actual duel to the death had turned into a battle of a totally different kind. To be clear, they were no less feral in their fucking when they were high on the rush of escaping imminent danger than when their lust had ignited due to mutual hatred.

Right now, though? Dream lifts up onto his knees, his ass leaving the comfort of Hob's strong thighs, as he leans in to nuzzle into Hob's temple. 

“But attraction isn't in question here.” Hob isn't asking; they can both see their mostly erect cocks laying ignored between them.

“No,” Dream chuckles, “It certainly is not.” He drags his nose down so he can bring their lips close, not quite a kiss. “Rare is it allowed for drow males to be able to truly choose their Mate. So many are deemed unfit, taken to serve only as brooders for the Great Mother’s many children. And so it is not something I dared dream possible for myself. Before now.” He speaks against the corner of Hob's mouth. “I want you to fuck me, Hob. I want to know what it is to feel you spend inside me.”

With a wanton cry Hob is kissing Dream, crushing them together, and all the skin contact is glorious, as are the needy noises coming from his Mate’s throat. But Hob doesn't even know… he doesn't know.

“Hob!” Dream gasps, pulling away. “You don't understand.” They are both panting softly and Dream almost gets distracted by another kiss. “I said brooders. Female drow provide only eggs. Male drow gestate and birth our children.” That seems to get Hob's attention and he blinks his eyes until his gaze is sharp once again. Only then does Dream continue. “My cunt, Hob.” The wood elf inhales sharply. “I want you to fuck my cunt.”

Dream is barely finished with the sentence when Hob surges up and wrestles the druid to the mossy ground. Laughing, Dream pushes and scoots away, smirking up at Hob, parting his long slate-colored legs and reaching down to stroke his cock, tugging it up to reveal the wet folds hidden further down. Hob moans, eyes fixed to where Dream is showing himself off. Their fucking has always been frantic, hurried, and with Dream doing the penetrating, so Hob hasn't ever been given the chance to explore what lies deeper between Dream's legs. He looks ravenous for it.

And Dream is ready for such an exploration, except Hob doesn't even stop to touch: he grabs Dream's thighs, slings one onto each shoulder, and pulls Dream's hips to his mouth. “Hob!” Dream barks. Hob is ravenous, quite literally, licking and obscenely slurping up fluids, and Dream can do nothing but scream his pleasure. 

Hob laves up and around until he can suck on the side of Dream's cock before purring, “Knew I smelled something more when you’d fuck into my throat, could swear I heard something more wet than just your spit-slick skin slapping my face.” He takes Dream's prick all the way into his mouth, sucks until the drow cries out, then backs off to allow filth to keep spilling from his lips. “Fuck, when we were under that curse I chalked up any feeling that what was between my legs felt different to the fact that drow senses are so different. I never thought…” He licks back down, exploring the wet folds with his tongue and lips. When he next needs air, Hob speaks with his damp cheek against Dream's thigh.

“I can't fill you with children, but I am gonna come in you so many times it is going to damn well feel like I did.” Each word is a puff of steam-hot air on where Dream is most sensitive, making him writhe. “Until there is enough spend in you that I can press on your belly and make it flood out. Cover these pretty thighs in my cum. Once it drips down to your ankles I will lick you clean so we can start all over.”

“Fuck, Hob.” The bard has always been good with his words in bed, but it hits differently here, with Dream revealed to him completely. Further, he’s hit upon a specific kink that Dream has the tools to actually indulge in and not just spin pretty stories about. “There’s a spell. Originally it was to increase chances of conceiving, but more often nowadays it is used in modified form by those of us with a cum kink.”

Hob's groan is muffled when he leans forward into Dream's genitals. “Those of us….modified…”

Dream laughs, fingers finding Hob’s hair. “I’ll take you to Elegy one night. There are many of us, if you know the right clubs.” Hob lets out a needy whine at that. “I’ll need some cum–preferably yours–as a spell component. Then I cast on your bollocks so that the next time you come you produce, ah, lots more.”

His eyes appear above the rise of Dream’s hip. “How much more are we talking about here?”

He smirks. “Let's just say that the modification I was talking about involved merging the fertility spell with a spell that summons water in a person's lungs in enough volume to drown th-ahAH!” Dream is cut off as Hob dips back down and his tongue snakes inside Dream's body, his moan vibrating through Dream's pelvis.

Oh, it is so good to be touched there, for Hob to know all of him, to be laid bare before him, his Mate. 

Then Dream feels Hob shifting, moving away so Dream's knees are on his shoulders and he’s sliding a hand around from where it was holding up Dream's hip so that rough fingers can–“Oh yes!”

Hob pushes one finger inside and Dream’s entire body arches. “Let’s see, does your anatomy track with…” he mutters as he changes his angle over the course of a few thrusts and then it is like his finger strokes Dream’s cock from the inside and Dream screeches in surprised pleasure. “Yeah it does.” Hob sounds smug, which is so godsdamned sexy it only pushes Dream closer to tears. He slides a second finger in and Dream can’t stop himself from rocking into it. “Okay gorgeous, I’m gonna loosen you up with a couple orgasms and then you can have me.”

“Noooo,” Dream whines, plaintive, “Want to come with you in me!”

“Oh, you’ll do that, too.” And fuck him, he can hear Hob's grin. “Gonna make you come so many times you start babbling in Druidic. Break down every sense of propriety you have.”

Dream laughs through a moan, making it tumble and bounce. “An ingenious plan to learn the secret tongues.” He uses the word deliberately, playful and so fucking happy.

“Learn the-” Hob clicks his tongue against his teeth, chiding. “Are you saying that you are not satisfied with what my tongue currently knows?” Of course, he lays the flat of said appendage along the underside of the head of Dream's cock, rubs it back and forth as he looks up for an answer.

Seeing his Mate look at him like that, his cock aimed into his open mouth and his fingers buried inside him and his amber eyes burning so bright they are almost gold–fuck, it is so much. And the little movements just under the head of his prick plus the repeated deep massage of whatever that place inside him is, and Dream’s eyes widen as pleasure rushes in. 

He barely gets out a surprised, “Hob I’m-” before something inside him feels kind of like it pops and suddenly there is liquid pouring out of him along with his orgasm. It is as if his climax spreads out from a single point within his pelvis, pushing out sweat and screams and cum and tears and whatever else it can squeeze out as it hits the edges of his body.

Dream watches, awed, as his cock shoots white onto Hob's tongue, Hob's eyes closing as he groans, collecting all of it before he swallows. But also fluid gushes down, over his folds and along the seam of his ass; when Dream moves a hand he feels it dripping all the way to the small of his back. The liquid is almost as thin as water. It is most certainly not cum, nor is it the same as the lubrication his cunt produces. 

It takes another moment for it to click. “Holy fucking… did you just make me squirt?”

Dream looks up to find Hob licking glistening fingers that are no longer in his cunt. Which might be the most erotic, obscene thing he has ever seen and he feels like his brain short circuits a bit. Hob blinks at Dream twice before his own realization dawns. “Have you never done that before?”

“No!” Dream can't help but giggle. “I didn’t know that I could!” 

Hob watches, eyes rapt, as Dream takes his own fingers, the ones that have a bit of the fluid on them, and sticks them in his mouth. Slightly bitter, not as alkaline as cum, not as earthy as his cunt. 

His Mate watches his every move and looks like he might spontaneously combust. Dream can't resist teasing. “Like something you see?”

Hob actually growls as he lowers Dream's hips to his lap. His fingers, calloused from the instruments he plays and the grips of pistols, slip under Dream, to the top of his ass. Then Hob pulls his hand slowly forward, scraping, over one entrance, then then next, all the way to the base of the dark cock, collecting Dream's fluids in his hand as he goes.

Dream sees only a momentary glint of sunlight off the small pool of liquid cupped in Hob's fingers before they are heading for his mouth. Oh fuck. He opens his mouth, thinking to accept Hob’s offering as it is poured, but then Hob is smearing it, from one cheek, across his open mouth, to the other cheek. Hob tries to pull his hand away but Dream grabs his wrist, licks a long stripe up the inside of his fingers. When he releases his Mate’s wrist he purrs, “Again. More.” And that hits a goddamned button, because Hob repeats the collecting motion quickly, gathering as much as he can, and then turning his hand over as soon as he gets to Dream’s mouth, dribbling the liquid in. He uses Dream's bottom lip to wipe the last dregs off of his skin and then Hob is grabbing Dream by the neck and kissing him something fierce. 

His tongue is a lick of fire and it catches on the kindling of Dream's body, creating a blaze that tears through the drow. Lust. It gnashes, claws, in its effort to get out through Dream's skin and if he doesn't get proper fucked right now–

He rips his mouth away from Hob's with a wail. “Fuck your plans. If you don't get your godsbedamned prick into me right the fuck now I am taking the control of this operation away from you, so help mYES!” 

Hob drives into him to the hilt and Dream howls like he is worshipping the moon. “Bratty thing, aren't you?” He grabs a fistful of Dream's long white hair and yanks his head back with enough force to make his whole dark torso bend back into a U-shape. It pulls electric pleasure up Dream's spine as Hob sits back on his heels. “Seems you were never broken to saddle. Is that it? Do you need me to train you to be ridden? To be a good mount?” 

Oh hell yes. 

Two can play that game.

Dream gets a foot up onto Hob's chest and shoves him away hard, forcing him not only out of Dream's body, but also to sprawl backwards and drop his grip on Dream’s hair in shock. At the same time Dream twists, shifting from being on his back to up on all fours and then lowering his chest and face to the ground. It angles his ass up into the air and towards his Mate, and then he lets his knees slide apart. Presenting himself.

“My God…” he hears Hob gasp. 

“You think I need training?” he purrs, all seduction as he looks back over his shoulder. “But you haven't even mounted me properly yet.” He hears Hob panting even from a distance. “Come on, lover, ride me hard.”

He can't help but chuckle as Hob scrabbles to comply, crawling up behind him and pressing their thighs together but holding their hips apart. Hob palms both sides of his ass, meager flesh there is, and parts them with groan on his breath. “How hard, dove?”

Dream sways back into his grasp, forcing himself open wider. The stretch feels good, like anticipation. “Pretend you’re hammering nails with your cock.”

Hob’s muttered curses accompany feeling the head of his prick lining up. They are perfectly ready and yet then Hob stops just so that he can gather all of Dream's hair carefully into one rope to loop around his fist. Dream whines and buries his face in his arms. He just… he just needs. Please. Please.

“Alright, baby, alright. I got you.” Hob soothes, free hand petting down Dream's thigh. 

Hob fucking into him again is a homecoming; this, this is where he is supposed to be. 

The first withdrawal and thrust back in slaps their skin together so hard it sounds like a whip crack. “YES!” Dream gets up on his elbows and digs his fingers into the soil. He feels his magic root him to the ground. “More!”

Hob tugs on Dream's hair hard enough to make him yelp. “You’re here to get fucked, so take what I give you. Brat.”

And doesn't that make lust curl hot in his belly. He whines and lets his head drop limply between his shoulders, as far as the grip on his hair will allow, hunches to rest his forehead on the ground. “Please Hob. I need… please.” Hob complies swiftly this time, fucking into Dream with these slow rhythmic thrusts that hit like a battering ram. He feels each one shake his very foundations. “So good,” Dream cries, “Yes! So good!”

It is the beat of a drum and Dream falls under its sway. He is hypnotized by it, losing his higher faculties and left only to scream his pleasure as he tries desperately to get fucked faster. But Hob continues the basic rhythm for what might as well be forever, until Dream is sobbing into the ground and smearing mud on his cheek as he hiccups out soft pleas. 

Finally, he falls silent, nothing left in him but the ache of his need. And that's when he hears Hob's quiet chanting.

Pace like a drum. 

Chanting.

It is a spell.

Hob is casting a spell using Dream's body as an instrument and the rush of arousal at the thought nearly makes him pass out.

“Was wondering when you’d figure it out,” the bard laughs, hands sliding down Dream's thighs and back up. “If your body is meant to birth children, then this spell is for you.” Hob sings one last phrase in a language Dream can't parse right now and then the magic snaps into place. 

It takes a moment, but as Hob fucks back in Dream realizes what is happening: his cock is getting larger. It is incremental, but that stretch definitely wasn't there a minute ago, that insistent press against the insides of Dream. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” he moans, helpless to the rising tide. “So full. Oh gods.”

The bastard above him chuckles. “Not even halfway done, pet. This spell is calibrated exactly to the receiving party’s limits. Gonna find out exactly how much your pretty body can take, then fuck you loose on that. So next time you can take just a little bit more. And then a little more. And a little more. Until you can take my fist.” Dream wails at that. “Until you can take my fist wrapped around my cock.” The thought makes his entire body shake. “You like that idea? Want me to jack myself off buried inside your cute cunt? Move my fist faster and faster, use a finger to curl up into your G-spot, make you squirt around me…”

He keeps talking, but Dream can't make out the words anymore over the whistling of blood rushing in his ears, over the throbbing, thrilling fullness thrumming deep in his body. It is so fucking good. 

But then on the next measured thrust Hob drives in deeper as well as wider and Dream loses the last thread of sanity he ever had. 

Digging his fingers into the ground like claws, the druid snarls and uses a surge of strength to pull himself off of Hob and then quickly fuck himself back, feeling how Hob's cock gets a little bigger with the in and out motion. This spell was meant to be taken slowly, but Dream needs more and he needs it now. 

Dream rolls his body again, making Hob groan and his hands tighten to bruising around Dream’s hips. “I told you to ride me,” he growls, “So fuck me like you damned well mean it. Fuck me like yoAAAAHHHH!!”

He screeches as Hob pulls him off the ground by only his hair, arms dangling and fingers brushing the ground, until he can get his hand around Dream's mouth. Dream lets his weight sag into Hob's grip and the gunslinger has no problem holding him up. “Fine, you want me to use this spell to ruin you?!” Hob bucks twice in rapid succession, the spell working each time and Dream splays his legs wider, as if that will relieve the building pressure. 

It doesn't. 

Dream mewls into Hob's hand. “Do you want that?!?” Hob roars.

He nods vigorously, as much as he can with Hob's large palm across his face, and presses backwards as much as possible. 

“So be it!” Hob releases Dream's face, letting him flail to catch himself before he falls into the dirt. Then Dream hears the sound of Hob spitting and before he knows it a wet finger is sliding down the cleft of his ass. “If you want to be filled so badly, then I will make sure to fill you completely.”

On the next delicious thrust of Hob’s cock deep into his cunt a finger drives into Dream's ass and the noise he makes is nothing short of a squeal. “YES!”

It is so much. Fullness and pressure and stretching and it doesn't hurt in the least, more like it feels as if his body was made for this, to take and take and take. And on each pounding thrust in Hob gets bigger and bigger, and just when Dream thinks he can take no more, the stretch deepens and his body accepts another finger or another millimeter. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Hob's hoarse whisper is tinged in awe. “Never seen the spell last like this. Never seen a body so greedily take more and more and more. So fucking perfect. And all mine. Mine.”

“Yes! Yours!” Dream wriggles, letting his shoulder and face take his weight as he reaches back and grabs behind his knees, pulls his legs further apart. “Please, Hob, wanna come like this. Please touch me, lover. Mate.”

Hob groans and the hand that is not buried in Dream’s ass finds its way to his cock. It barely takes two strokes before Dream is coming, shaking and screaming and oh fuck if Hob just keeps going… 

“Don't stop,” he pants, Hob still driving into him, wider each time, making his body sing, “Oh fuck don't stop gonna gonna gonna—HOB!” 

Dream howls as he comes again, writhing as Hob keeps thrusting, faster and harder, his fist still tight and pumping Dream's cock, and then Hob’s fist gets tighter and twists. It is too much so much too much, but then Hob fucks into him harder and his vice-tight hand starts twisting on every upstroke and he can't possibly not no oh gods oh gods! 

He cries through his third orgasm in as many minutes, overwhelmed and overstimulated and Hob keeps fucking him, even as Dream’s entire body goes liquid and he slumps onto the mossy ground. Hob’s fingers leave his ass with a slick squelching noise and then his Mate’s whole body is pressing Dream down flat, legs splayed, his hips still pistoning his spelled cock in and out of Dream's cunt. “That's it baby, I finally hit your edge. Not gonna get any bigger than this today. You good to let me keep going? Want me to come in this pretty pussy of yours?”

“Yes, please, yes.” Dream rasps, throat raw from his screaming. 

Hob presses his chest down onto Dream's back until not even a molecule of air is between them, his breathing heavy behind Dream's pointed ear. “Want you to do this to me, too, darling. Cast the spell and fuck me until I am gaping and exhausted.” He fucks fast and stays deep, never pulling out very far, and Dream doesn't know what is better, the images Hob paints with his words or how easily Hob‘s now-huge cock rams into his cervix on every thrust. “So good around me. You can already take so much… can't wait to see how far I can stretch you. Can't wait to try that spell of yours, fucking drown you in my cum, so stark against your gorgeous skin. Probably not healthy to cast it more than once in a day, but I’m nothing if not reckless. Wanna flood your cunt, your ass, and your stomach.” Dream moans, shivering and helpless beneath him. “Make you lick up whatever spills out of your holes. Swallow it down. Make sure you take all of it. Then plug your holes, gag your mouth, keep it all inside.”

It is like Hob had seen the beginnings of Dream's most depraved fantasies and he can't help but continue them. “That's… I want that so badly. And more, Hob. I want more. After all that I want you to tie me up, wrists to ankles behind me,” Hob makes a noise like a sob and buries his face into Dream's neck, rhythm stuttering, “And then I want you to spend all over my cock. Because I haven't come yet, you haven't let me.” That pulls a whine from Hob. “And after all that there will be paltry cum left in you, but that's all I get. That's all I get to use to rut against the hard floor. Smacking my hips down onto the wet tiles, but at that point any contact would feel like heaven. Would come so hard, for you, my love.”

A hitch in Hob's breath and he starts slowly pulling out as he climaxes, drawing it out using Dream's body just like he has used Dream's hand in the past, cock twitching wildly. He lengthens the pleasure enough that he gets to push back into Dream at the very end of his orgasm, gets to bury himself to the hilt as his last little jolt of overstimulation. 

Panting, prick softening within Dream, Hob lets all of his weight collapse onto his lover. “Fuck, you’re amazing. I can't believe I get to have you.” He nuzzles into Dream's hair. “My beautiful Dream.”

“My Hob,” he sighs, “my Mate.”

[delta-pavonis]

do I have to die to hear you miss me?

Dreamling (canon divergence AU) || rated M (for now) || in progress

CW: Hob in a coma/vegetative state, hospitalization due to car accident, Dream re-living memories, reflective Dream, Dream can see daydreams

When Dream enters the New Inn he is not expecting to see Joanna Constantine, practitioner of magic and the spitting image of her forebear, with her head bowed over a short tumbler of amber liquid. He has not seen her since she assisted him in obtaining his sand. And it is not that he is unhappy to see her per se, but she is sitting in Hob’s usual seat. Even more unexpected, is the wet sheen over her eyes when she looks up at him. “Dream,” her voice actually cracks on his name and that is when he knows that something is extremely, extraordinarily wrong. “It’s Robbie.”

Read on AO3

[delta-pavonis]

Ficlet: Naga's Boon

For @amielot (Apparently? Like, I started this AGES ago and only have vague recollections of the server conversation that started it... Could I search the Discord? Yes. Am I lazy? Also yes.)

Dreamling AU || rated G before the break, rated E after the break (cw: nagas have hemipenes (two penises, kinda) like all snakes and lizards, but not the more, uh, horrific looking options if you Google it, monsterfucker Hob Gadling, description of non-human genitalia, Hob is a bit of a size queen and a cumslut and we love that for him, Dream has to be restrained during sex for Plot Reasons™️, naga Dream wearing a leather chest harness might be one of the hottest images I have come up with recently ngl)

----------------

"You return." His voice rumbles out of the depths. It may have been more than a lifetime ago, but Hob remembers well His voice.

Hob's immediate vicinity is brightly lit thanks to the high quality of the candle in his lantern and yet the way in front of him still looks like an endless abyss of starless midnight. "Well. Yes. You said that you wanted to know what it was like. That we should meet again on this day in one hundred years. I will keep my end of the bargain, if it provides me this gift."

The susurration of scales along damp stone is amplified by the cave's mouth as He approaches. "You name it a gift? So you still want to live?"

"Oh yes." He nods vigorously enough to cause the lantern hanging from the end of the tall staff he carries to swing.

The light sloshes wildly back and forth between the rock walls, causing a small grouping of bats to hiss and squeak before they take to the air. Hob ducks as they flitter overhead and when he turns back to the inside of the cave He is there.

For a moment it is as if a torso hovers in the darkness, His bone-pale skin almost as reflective as a cat's eyes. He embodies an ideal that only the greatest artists and students of the human form could conceive of... except where hips should dip to thighs and groin, is shadow and fire.

Human-appearing skin gives way to wide horizontal belly scales, each bright flame yellow in the middle fading to ember orange then to ruby red at the edges. Everywhere else, serpentine coils of which Hob sees no end, is the shining black of obsidian.

Hob holds the lantern-staff aside as the ancient naga approaches to within arms reach. He has to look up to meet those hypnotizing eyes, blue-black, just as he remembered. "What must I do," he pauses, breathless, "to keep this boon?"

"You are more than passing brave, Robert Gadling, to return to my lair, apparent promise of renewed immortality or no. What have you been doing for the last hundred years?" He lowers his torso as he speaks, until their faces are more of a height.

"Oh, same as before, soldiering mainly. Bit of banditry now and-wait" Hob's brain catches up with the conversation. "Did you say apparent promise?"

The naga's smirk, the barest curl of rose-pink lips, makes Hob shiver. "Well caught." He shakes his head, long black hair falling over one shoulder, and if Hob did not know any better he would think the ancient creature amused. "Your so-called boon is not subject to my whims nor those of any other. You earned it fairly and so it will not fade until you will it so."

Earned it fairly. What Hob had done was save the life of another naga from a pitchfork and torch-bearing mob. She was dark of skin, hair, and scale, yet this one had called her 'sister.'

"Oh, so I..."

"May leave, if you'd rather."

Hob pauses, bites his lip as he considers his options. This creature must have knowledge beyond his wildest imaginings, stories of things forgotten by most of those alive today. He wants to know more. "And if I'd rather not?" The naga's head shifts backwards on his neck, surprise widening his eyes; that was clearly not an answer he considered possible. "I do not know when you last went and saw the outside world, but I could tell you my story..." He hesitates before adding, "If you would be willing to tell me a bit of yours?"

The naga rushes towards Hob, stopping only a hair's breadth away, mouth open and forked tongue flickering out all around Hob's face, brushing against his forehead and cheeks and chin. Hob is so close that the naga's fangs are visible in his open mouth even though they remain retracted, pulled backwards by thin membranes that glint almost silver in the light.

The tongue disappears into a scowling face, brow drawn in confusion. "You do not smell of lies."

"That would likely be because I am not lying." For a moment Hob worries he has overstepped, been too casual, but then a glimmer of mirth softens the naga's expression.

He nods his head once, accepting the answer. "Then tell me, what has changed in your world since I saw you last?"

So that was as far as I got with the intro. Then there was this bit of gratuitous pornography...

"Hob," he hisses, "I do not think I can..."

"Love," the human soothes, reaching out to grab the naga's neck and pull him up for a kiss. "You can. I know you can hold yourself still. The only way to restrain your smooth body any more than it already is would be to loop hooks into the flesh beneath your scales. And I refuse." Dream whimpers, eyes closed as he trembles. "Just think of the reward, darling. Imagine one of your cocks buried within me, the other gripped in my hands. Think of it."

Hob tries to let some of his own breathless excitement bleed through. Because after seven hundred years of meeting with this gorgeous, awe-inspiring, witty, fascinating creature - not to mention eight decades of being lovers - finally, finally he will have what he has wanted since year two hundred and one: Dream screaming his pleasure as he empties inside him. And Hob is goddamned excited.

Little did Hob know when he first desired this that he would get to have Dream come on him at the same time.

Dream, while equally enthusiastic, is terrified that he will hurt Hob. And he isn't wrong: the majority of his body is a long tube of extremely strong muscle that thrashes around when he is near and at his climax. Hob has watched as Dream has whipped his tail around fast enough to gouge cuts eight inches deep through dragon hide, so he doesn't begrudge Dream's hesitation.

If Hob were another naga their snake-bodies would be intertwined and therefore kept from wild movements by the other's strength. But he is not. So they have had to come up with other options.

Dream's body, both human and snake, is being held down by an elaborate series of straps and chains. On his snake end, which they have found runs a full forty-seven feet in length, are a dozen foot-wide leather collars that tighten around the body if pulled. Each are anchored via chains to iron rings buried deep into the stone of the cave floor. His human form lays on a mattress, but is also held down with a harness that loops around his shoulders and chest and has a very short chain to the floor. He cannot fully sit up, but he can stretch enough to touch Hob as he is riding Dream.

Hob is perched on his lover's pelvis, along the transition from skin to scales. Behind him, three belly scales back, far too low relative to the jut of what appear to be hips to be human anatomy, protrude two slick, gleaming cocks.

Their proportions are also too exaggerated to be human, with a more pointed head that transitions relatively smoothly into the shaft. The shaft is widest at just below its middle, making it shaped almost like a flower bud. At the base of each, right before they connect into a 'Y' shape, are a series of gentle ridges that make Hob groan just looking at them. No part is wider than Dream's hand, so there is no doubt that Hob's body can accommodate.

Hob slides backwards until the two cocks press up against his ass and nudge into his lower back.

While they have never done this specific sexual act before, Hob has sat between the two dicks and rutted back and forth until they both came. It absolutely drenches Hob in cum, both front and back, and Dream takes great pleasure in covering his lover as much as possible.

"You ready, love?" Hob asks as he reaches behind to grab one of the two pricks.

He beams down at Dream, maneuvering so that he sits in the space between the twitching, leaking members. He takes a moment to rock forward, his own cock sliding against Dream's, making them both groan. Then he rises up onto his knees and starts guiding one of Dream's impossible cocks into his body.

Dream stretches and gets one hand on Hob's thigh. "As much as I can be." His voice is steadier than it was before.

Oh fuck, it is better than Hob thought possible, that long gentle taper just gliding into him until it is stretching him open, stretching and oh oh oh!

"Yes! Hob!" Dream snaps his body up as much as he is able, chains clinking as he reaches their limits, popping his prick into Hob to the base.

Hob lets out this long, drawn out wanton noise, more than a moan, not quite a howl; he is so full he almost wants to cry with how good it is.

When he looks down, Dream's chest is heaving, shining with sweat, his mouth open and slack, his lids heavy over dark eyes. He looks like he wants to devour Hob and in that moment Hob probably would let him, if only it kept this glorious prick buried within him for a minute longer.

Hob runs his hands down the cock arcing up between his legs. It twitches into his touch and presses Hob's cock and bollocks against his belly and oh yeah, that's gonna be fantastic. He rolls his hips forward once, rutting himself into those ridges at the base of one of Dream's pricks and lifting him off the other.

Dream hisses, fingers gripping bruises into Hob's thigh, and his hips snap up to fully sheathe himself again inside Hob, making them both cry out.

Hob wants to tell his lover how good it is, but he can't figure out words, so he keeps stroking both his hands up and down the cock in front of him, rolling his hips and fucking himself in time with it, and Dream sobs through it all, but his body eventually picks up the rhythm.

Hob's cum gets smeared all over Dream's cock under his hands and it is only a few more thrusts before Dream peaks, a shriek of unintelligible sibilants, stripes of searing hot white covering Hob's shoulders and neck and the side of his face. At the same time the cock inside him pulses over and over and Hob can feel the spend leaking out of him and down his legs and across Dream's belly.

If Hob had his way this would last forever, but he can already tell he is close, Dream so fucking deep inside him it hits every pleasure spot Hob knew he had and then some. He can hear the heavy chains behind him rattle and groan as Dream's long body thrashes in its confines, attempting to twist and roll. It makes every third or fourth thrust become a wild buck that hits harder than the others and Hob's vision whites out for a moment each time.

The bucking gets more frequent as Dream reaches his own peak, and Hob has already been holding himself back, so once every thrust is one of those uninhibited snaps of Dream's body, he lets himself go. "Dream! I'm gonna oh yessss!"

When he collapses forward Dream's cocks are flexible enough to go with him, still everted and full, and isn't that just lovely. They will retract eventually, out of Hob and all the way back into Dream's body until they invert internally. Perhaps Dream will let Hob fuck into his inverted pricks for a second round.

But that will be later. For now Hob feels their breathing sync as he drifts into sleep.

[delta-pavonis]

Fuck it. This definitely is a story...

.

.

They only get up to leave the New Inn because they are being forced to. Well, asked forcefully. By the manager on shift. Who Hob has employed for nearly two decades and deeply respects. Dream watches Hob fall all over himself in apology and fails to not be charmed.

Hob has always been like this, hasn't he? It just never affected Dream before. It seems his time held captive has made him... vulnerable is not the correct word, but perhaps more acutely aware, of human kindness. Of consideration. Of caring.

And oh does Hob convey those things. He gifts them to those around him in such abundance it almost makes Dream giddy. Lightheaded.

Hob's flat is a short walk away, but they - appropriately enough - have to pass the condemned remains of the White Horse in order to do so. Unsurprisingly, they stop.

"Call me crazy, but I'm still trying to save her." Hob's hand finds the back of his head and he looks rather chagrined. "Been over three decades now and I'm still in legal battles over its historic status. Over whether we can restore or have to bulldoze her. Well, not me, it's my son who has now taken over the good fight. But I just can't seem to let her go, you know?"

Dream's eyes slide to Hob as they stand side-by-side. He is still looking through the fence, expression wistful. The light of a street lamp halos Hob's silhouette, but Dream can still see his small smile. Can feel his smile in the soft daydreams that float on the breeze: they are worn at the edges for how many times Hob has repeated them, how close he holds these little capsules of memory and what-could-have-beens.

A brushing of hands, pale and tanned. Taming a lock of stray ink black hair. Pressing of knees under a table. The barest grazing of lips across a cheek.

"I do know," Dream answers as he flushes with Hob's little thoughts, turns to Hob when he glances over with a question on his brows. "I know what it is like to not want to let go of something that you have revisited at multiple important moments in your life. Something that remembers a you others have forgotten. Something that holds both memories... and wishes."

Hob has turned fully to face him over the course of Dream's words, likely more sentences then he has ever strung together in his friend's company. "I... you..." His face is a beautiful shade of pink in its excitement. He looks radiant.

Dream cannot resist. He leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Hob's mouth, closing his eyes as he lingers. "Dream," he whispers as his eyes open and he shifts his weight back to his heels. Hob's lovely brown eyes are wide, but warm. Surprised, but pleasantly so. "My name is Dream."

.

.

(And when they get back to Hob's flat they make out like horny teenagers and Dream has to stop and explain to Hob who and what he is before they continue because he is quickly losing control on his form. Hob takes this news surprisingly well... and then he happily lets Dream's various limbs take him to new heights.)

a quick sketch

[ninadove]

Felix / Rain :-)

You know me so well. 💜🦚☔️

Ask game here! ���

[delta-pavonis]

Fic: Placebo Effect

Dreamling (human AU) || Rated E || 10k words || complete Alternate Universe - human, Hob is minorly Tiktok famous, for his woodworking ASMR videos, Hob is also a doctor, Dream listens to Hob’s ASMR, Dream is a museum curator, Dream needs his fucking lunatic parents to stop harassing him about not being married yet, Hob takes on the holiday shifts for colleagues because he doesn’t have a family to go home to, Hob is really fucking bored and decides to offer to do a fake relationship video call, you see where this is going, fake relationship to real relationship, the entire set of Endless sibs are little shits in the best way, getting together, phone sex, dirty talk, sexting, inappropriate work behavior, sex at work, Dream went to art school, Dream was an unrepentant slut in college, Hob is still an unrepentant slut, frenum piercing, reference to previous toxic relationship, sex toys, anal fingering, oral sex, blow job, anal sex

>> You are no doubt being inundated with such requests, but at the endless prodding of my siblings I decided to try: I would like to take you up on that offer of a holiday meal call as a fake partner. Even my littlest sister and my sibling-who-hates-me have taken pity upon my plight and encouraged me to do this, just so they don’t have to listen to our parents harass me for the entirety of another dinner. I am amenable to discussing terms, but you would probably benefit from some pre-event background on my family’s unique flavor of crazy before you agree to this. He doesn’t even get his phone back into his pocket before it vibrates with a notification.

inspired by a prompt @gabessquishytum got

Read on AO3

[valeriianz]

Last Line Tag Game!

tagged by @tj-dragonblade and (i think...) @hardly-an-escape way back when lol

i haven't been writing anything except Bolt in the Blue. so...

“What are you sorry for?” Hob looks between Morpheus’ hand wrapped around his, hovering between them, and Morpheus’ face. Hob swallows. “Um, touching you?” Morpheus… laughs, a disbelieving little huff of air that causes a pleasant shiver up Hob’s arms. He hums after, though Hob can’t hear it over the downpour– he can see how Morpheus’ eyes droop, considering. His thumb is stroking the top of Hob’s hand and his lashes lift, staring at Hob as he slowly brings their hands back to his face, lacing their fingers together as he pushes Hob’s open palm against that sharp jaw.

tagging, no obligation: @delta-pavonis @seiya-starsniper @omgcinnamoncakes @beatnikfreakiswriting

[tj-dragonblade]

Last Line Tag Game

Tagged by @zzoomacroom weeks ago - thank you! All my most recent writing has been trickling out on the wip asks but here is a bit of MerHob lore I drafted up today separate of any of those:

"My great-gran was half selkie." He strokes a hand through the hair on his chest, showing off the hair on his arm at the same time. "Genes came through real strong in me, heh. Also why I can shift into a human so easy."

"So that is a trait unique to you, then?"

"Mmm, sort of, yeah. Most mers can do it if they have to, but it's super painful and they can't really stay that way long-term. So my selkie blood is a huge asset in that regard; I'm the go-to guy for shore excursions if the community ever needs something from dry land."

All of this is fascinating anthropologically, culturally, and Dream is carefully filing it away to mull over later, but one question has risen to the forefront of his mind and refuses to leave. "You haven't exactly got a skin to shed?" He's got comic-horrific visions in his head of Hob splitting his tail and pulling viscera-covered legs out like deboning a fish at the market, but Hob just laughs.

"No, thank the Deep, I can change without all that malarkey. No chance of getting shafted into marriage and labor exploitation for me on a stolen body part, thanks. I just have to focus and…sort of…feel the transformation to make it happen? And it's definitely easier in the water."

Tagging, no obligation, etc and so forth: @chaosheadspace , @staroftheendless , @delta-pavonis , @valeriianz , @teejaystumbles

[five-and-dimes]

47 & 50 for the ao3 asks pls!!

47. Shout out an incomplete fic you read this year

Oooh I'm going to shout out... many actually lol. I have a lot that I go back and reread frequently, and I have them open on my phone and tell myself I need to leave long comments about how much I love them regardless of completion and then I forget until I'm in the middle of work. For that, I am truly truly sorry to all these authors. These shout outs do not negate my plan to leave proper comment, promise!!

call your boy a book the way i want to get between his covers by @softest-punk (Notting Hill AU, Hob Gadling, actor, newly out, ducks into a second-hand bookshop while running from the paparazzi. Inside he finds Dream, who might be slightly magic, is definitely beautiful, and hasn't seen a single one of his films. Naturally, he falls in love instantly. It's the happily ever after he's got to work on.)

their choicest and most rare invention by @beatnikfreakiswriting (Early Modern AU, London, June 7th, 1592. Hob Gadling sees a young man on stage, and falls in love. London, June 7th, 1604. Hob Gadling returns from Amsterdam, alone in the world but for his grief, and his player who yet treads the boards.

would you go along with someone like me? by @hardly-an-escape (College AU, Hob is a freshman history major and a first generation college student, while Morpheus is completing a graduate degree in poetry. When they're crammed into a small room together due to a shortage of on-campus housing, it seems like an odd couple situation at best and a recipe for disaster at worst. But as the months go by, mutual respect turns into real friendship. And then... something happens that Hob never expected.)

Ten Dates by @kydrogendragon (Human AU, Dream makes a bet with Death that involves going on ten dates with a man he meets at a bar in order to get his sister to stop meddling in his love life. A fake dating fic where only one person knows it's fake.)

wild horses by @delta-pavonis (Human AU, Hob is a biker who runs a gay bar, and starts running into another mysterious biker on his occasional star gazing trips.)

Like Real People Do by @pellaaearien (Sequel to "Another Word For Ache", Getting together is just the start of the story. Any relationship takes work, and Hob isn't about to back down. Come hell or high water, nothing is going to stop him being there for Dream. He probably should have guessed how very literal that was going to turn out to be.

Whew okay I'll stop there. I love all of you 💕

50. You're favorite comment you left or received this year

Can't possibly choose an individual one, but a lot of people commented on "Sunbeam" specifically to let me know that they were skeptical about the au but still read it because they liked my writing and ended up enjoying it! I was so flattered that people were willing to give something that wasn't usually their jam a chance just because they liked my writing 🥺💕

[ifishouldvanish]

Five Fics

@ruiniel tagged me to do some shameless self-promotion for five of my stories! Here goes:

Chthonic Bed Death - 🔞 Hades Game, Thanatos x Zagreus - This is my most popular fic on AO3 and I'm quite proud of it! I really put a lot of myself into this and like... not to brag or anything, but I still think it's pretty damn hot 😏

Until the Sun Rises Again - Castlevania, Alucard x Olrox - this is my main WIP at the moment and considering how rare this pairing seems to be, the response has been wonderful??? I'm just so obsessed with these characters and while they may not have interacted in canon yet, they have all the chemistry in my heart 😩

Hideaway - 🔞 Hades Game, Ares x Thanatos - this was a discord drabble that quickly went out of control. I love it though. There's some emotional moments and bits of imagery I'm really, really proud of in here.

How Do You Sleep? - Once Upon A Time/California Solo, Lacey x Lachlan - My beloved crossover disaster ship! I loved taking these two deeply flawed, dysfunctional people and making them learn how to lift each other up in their own way 😭

Resonance - Hades Game, Thanatos x Zagreus - My other WIP that has sadly taken a back seat while my Castlevania brainworms have been wriggling 😅 Thanzag AuDHD solidarity is very dear to me and the response from people identifying with the ND stuff as well as some of the gender stuff really warms my heart ❤️

---

No pressure tag: @killingkueen, @ver-writes, @coffee-writes, @mareyshelley, @red-hot-moon, @delta-pavonis, @abovethemists, or anyone else who wants to do this 😘

[landwriter]

Am very curious about 3 the bird one we see a decent amount of cat dream which makes sense but I have definitely been rotating other creatures versions of dream.

Love your writing thanks for sharing it!

Thank you! I feel ya, I think probably my cardinal (pun intended!!!) sin in the Sandman Fanon is that I'm not at all interested in Cat Dream as a concept. Undine Dream? Selkie Dream? Bird Dream? Absolutely. We've seen cat!Dream, I wanna know what bird!Dream looks like. (Paging my favourite bird peeps @delta-pavonis and @aquilathefighter if you have headcanons, I would LOVE to hear them)

'maybe bird DREAM, like bird’s dream, the bird is dreaming of it'

Sadly in this case I am only trying to make it clear to myself (in the usual confusing and inarticulate fashion) that the dream I want to describe is a dream belonging to a bird rather than a dream about a bird. But Dream would be SUCH a cool bird.

From the Shaper of Forms WIP where Hob uses The Power Of Narrative against Dream (It's super effective!)

[valiantstarlights]

Heads Up, Seven Up

Thank you for tagging me, @valeriianz ! 🙇‍♀️

This is from the Charlie's Angels AU I randomly started writing the other day because @mallory-x said there needs to be more fics where Hob flips his hair. 😂 Inspired by this scene from the 2000 movie.

No pressure tagging: @arialerendeair @sleepsonfutons @gabessquishytum @delta-pavonis @teejaystumbles

Rules: post the last seven lines you wrote! Then tag others!

"Go back and talk to the bartender, Dream," Death urges him from his earpiece. She sounds giddy, which is exactly how Dream felt when Hob smiled at him as he placed drinks on Dream's serving tray to offer the guests. "He's making eyes at you even now."

"I cannot," Dream says in a low voice, resisting the urge to turn around and check if his sister is telling the truth. He is not a teenager anymore, and he still has two drinks left on his tray. "Not yet, at least."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Desire says in his earpiece, before they appear out of nowhere to pluck the remaining two drinks. "It's not like you actually work here," they say snippily. When Dream opens his mouth to retort, Desire cuts him off with a glare. "No. You're welcome. Now go. And yes, I will be drinking these, and Destiny will forgive me for drinking on the job when I tell him I was forced to be subjected to your abysmal flirting skills." And after a pointed sip at one of the champagne flutes, Desire turns and walks away.

Dream stares after his sibling for a second, shakes his head a little, then goes back to the bar, conscience clear as he slides the empty tray towards Hob.

"Oh, hey again," Hob says, visibly lighting up at the sight of Dream, before he turns serious and leans towards him a little. "You okay?" he asks softly. "I saw someone scold you as they got their drinks."

"I am fine," Dream says, a little distracted by the closer proximity. Hob's eyes are so dark and lovely, and Dream wants to tuck the stray lock of hair falling across his forehead behind his ear. He realizes that he has been staring too long and quickly looks away. "Thank you for your concern."

"I can't watch this," Dream hears Desire mutter in his ear. "I'm going to turn into an alcoholic if I do."

[delta-pavonis]

I am also a huge fan of Word Hippo 🦛

some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.

[seiya-starsniper]

Hiii Seiyaaa 💖 @embroiderling here! For the AO3 Wrapped Ask Game! I want to ask for the last four numbers if that's ok ☺️🪄

Hi yam! Sure, happy to do those!

47. Shout out an incomplete fic you read this year

wild horses by @delta-pavonis has me in a CHOKEHOLD. Biker Hob and Biker Dream? hell fucking yes! the tension and the buildup is just phenomenal, and I cannot wait to see where the fic goes next!

48. Oldest fic you read this year

The Short Fuse and the Long Con by jibrailis

I rewatched Inception last month to do research for my own fic, When Dreams Become Reality, so naturally, I also went on an Inception fic binge! A lot of the fics are from 2010 whew! This was the oldest one I could find from my history .

49. Your most posted Additional Tag this year

Had to do a little investigation to figure out how to find that but apparently, that tag is Alternate Universe - Human. Which absolutely tracks, I've written a lot of AU this year 😅

50. Your favorite comment you left or received this year

OH GOD. That's like asking me to pick a favorite child nooooooo 🤣

I'm gonna spin this one a little bit, actually, because I really want to call out a favorite commenter instead!

Cheshire_Childe on AO3 has left some legitimate ESSAYS on my fics this year, some of which have quite literally brought me to tears with how sweet their words to me were. I feel so so blessed to have the amount of people who read and comment on my fics as I do, but Cheshire's words hold a special place in my heart for their thoughtfulness and willingness to sit down and tell me everything that touched them about my writing. I'm not ashamed to admit that I reread their comments often when I'm feeling down, not even just about my writing, but about anything really.

AO3 Wrapped Ask Game