#smapril 2023

[aquilaafterdark]

smapril 26

Day 26  sexting prompts by my beloved @staroftheendless tags: sexting, chatfic, masturbation, bothering your spouse at work

Hob lies in his bed, topless and grinning. He snaps a quick shot of his belly and pajamaed legs to Dream.

Hob: Hey gorgeous, what r u wearing?

He runs a hand through the hair on his chest, brushing past his nipples to tease himself while waiting for a response.

Dream: As it is 2:00 PM, I am wearing a suit. At work.

Hob: C’mon bby don’t be like that. I miss you :(

He fires off the message then flops the phone next to him in the bed. Hob’s newly freed right hand creeps down his belly to toy with the waistband of his pajama pants. He almost dips below them when the phone buzzes.

Dream: I miss you as well, dearest. Were I there, you would not be clothed. I would appreciate the glory of your body without any coverings.

Hob: >;) Now we’re talking. How about this?

He snaps another picture as he pulls the waistband down to where the hair on his belly widens above his cock. Dream sends another text in mere seconds after it goes through.

It’s a photo of his cock, the rosy head peeking out of the foreskin. His hand is wrapped around the slender length, black nails a heavy contrast to the pale skin it wraps around. He’s clearly at his desk, trousers unzipped enough for him to play with himself.

Hob: Oh fuckkkkk ur so gorgeous

Hob: Cant wait to have u in me when u get home ;)

He can’t wait any longer. Hob yanks down his pajamas and boxers together, freeing his cock. He spits into his hand before grabbing hold of it. He starts pumping his hand up and down, the slick sounds multiplying the sensation. Beginning to shake, he manages to send a video clip of the action.

Dream receives the video, he’s sure of it. The message is marked ‘read.’ Hob has a feeling he’s watching it over and over, matching Hob’s tempo as he touches himself. That thought alone brings him to his peak. Come spills over his hand, trickling down his knuckles as he eases himself through the orgasm. He snaps a picture of the mess but doesn’t send it, busying himself with wiping off the sticky spend.

After no response from Dream for several minutes, as is quite typical, he sends the last picture.

Hob: Got a mess for you to clean up ;) hurry home <3

As soon as he hits send, he hears the jingle of keys and the door opening and his cock gives a valiant twitch. He hopes Dream will at least give him a few minutes, but given how worked up he looked, he’d better steel himself.

[gabessquishytum]

smapril day 6 - magic

(Dream/Hob/Eleanor)

There are certain things that one generally doesn't tell one's wife before the wedding night. Sexual exploits generally fall on that list – particularly when the wife in question is a lady.

So Sir Robert Gadlen doesn't tell Eleanor about his penchant for being absolutely buggered senseless until he's completely sure that she won't throw him out of their noble estate. He makes it quite clear that he's still very interested in her body, her femininity, her cunt (and he says that word specifically because he knows that she likes it when he's vulgar).

She takes it quite well, all things considered. Says that she doesn't mind if her husband wants to take it up the arse, as long as she gets to watch.

She's not exactly over the moon when he shows up back home, long past midnight, definitely worse the wear for wine. He's got a black-clad stranger trailing after him though, and that does pique a little interest inside her.

She's heard enough about the 7th of June to know that the date is important. To know that this stranger is probably also a lot more important than she'll ever really know. So she takes the experience in her stride, offering wine (the stranger refuses, graciously. His leather garments creak slightly when he sits down in the most comfortable chair, spreading his long legs wide. Eleanor abruptly forgets to be cross with Robert for coming home late).

They never make it to the bedroom – to Eleanor and Robert's own marriage bed. It is probably a blessing in disguise, because the black clad stranger would fit so well beneath the canopy, surrounded by the carved bedstead – Eleanor might not be inclined to let him leave.

She sees things that night that she knows she shouldn't. Clothes melting from bodies, furniture adjusting itself to be more comfortable. The fabric of reality warps around the stranger as he holds Robert in his pale arms.

Eleanor has watched her husband take a dozen men by now, but she has never wanted to feel so involved. Usually she watches and takes her pleasure in time, but tonight... Her hand can't work fast enough, beneath her shift. Her fingers tremble as she fucks herself, matching the stranger's rhythm inside Robert stroke for stroke.

The stranger meets her eyes over Robert's shoulder and smiles the smile of a satisfied wildcat. She feels like she knows him then, although she can't place him. Like he's a dream she had once.

Eleanor cums all over her own hand, and feels a cool sensation on her lips. A phantom mouth against her own, as smooth as a seashell. She watches the arch of her husband's back, the shift of muscle beneath flesh. She thinks can taste his sweat on her tongue, if she concentrates. A second shiver of orgasm rips through her and she's blinded by it for a moment.

She misses out on the sight of the stranger fucking up into Robert's sweet arse, but she hears the howling of both men as they cum nearly in tandem. She reaches for Robert, wanting to hold him - he likes to be held, afterwards.

When the stars clear from her eyes, Eleanor looks at her husband. The shadows of tears are on his cheeks, but he's already smiling and pulling Eleanor close. Like the stranger was never there, like a dream, or some kind of black magic, has spirited him away.

They spend the 8th of June together beneath the canopy in their marriage bed. And Eleanor's dreams are never quite the same again.

[aquilathefighter]

smapril day 8

Day 08  dominance | "I already know." Light D/S-ish stuff below! smapril prompts by the incomparable @staroftheendless

They’re lying in bed, still naked from the night before, Dream resting his head on Hob’s chest and playing with the dark curls there.

“Were you surprised?” he asks, the first words uttered that morning.

“By what?” Hob asks into his hair.

“By my preference for dominance…”

“Not at all, love, you are a king after all.”

“Many perceive my physical form as something frail. A weak, pretty thing to be taken apart and fucked.” Hob shivers as Dream spits the crude word out. “But I am beyond what a mortal mind can conceive of.”

Hob slips his arm under Dream’s waist and heaves him so he is laying fully on top of himself. While Dream appears bird-boned, the weight of him causes Hob’s body to sink further into the mattress.

“I already know.” He shifts Dream’s hips so his hardness presses into Dream’s own cock. “Now, are you going to take me apart again? Because I’m gagging for you, Dream.”

Pushing himself up to straddle Hob, Dream looks him in the eye devilishly.

“I suppose it would not be a hardship. Roll over, little one, and let me see that you are still wet and wanting for me.”

Hob moans, turning as soon as Dream rolls off of him. He props himself up on his knees, face smashed into the pillows. His hole twitches, remnants of what Dream left inside him the previous night trickling out. Dream runs a finger over it, scooping up his cum and pushing it back inside Hob’s ass.

“Good boy,” Dream rumbles, one finger teasing as Hob rocks into the penetration. He backs out and Hob cries out, asshole clenching around nothing. Dream runs a gentle hand across his back.

“Peace, pet. I am only ensuring you will be able to take my cock without pain. Unless you want that this morning?”

Hob shakes his head, still buried in the pillows.

“Very well. Then you may not whine or speak while I prepare you,” he says, returning with two slicked fingers, pushing into Hob’s walls and watching as he slips further into the relaxed state that Dream gets high off of.

Dream removes his fingers and watches as Hob catches himself before he manages to make any noise, his spine stiffening in sudden panic.

Dream lines himself up, watching Hob squirm against the blunt head of his cock, tiny squeaks escaping his mouth.

As he plunges inside, he says, “You may speak. Let the neighbors hear how much you love my cock, how much you love being brought low under my hand.”

Hob lets out a howl, arching his back to meet Dream’s thrusts.

“Yes! Oh—Dream, my Dream, yes, harder—” he babbles, Dream preening at the recognition of how good he can make his sub feel. He grips Hob’s hips and picks up the pace, leftover cum gliding against his cock to ease the way, squelching as Hob’s tight hole squeezes Dream’s cock.

“Hob!” Dream moans. “I’m going to—”

Hob finally lifts his head, turning to meet Dream’s eye as he groans.

“Yes, please, inside me—oh, god—I’m yours, fill me now!” he moans, meeting Dream’s thrusts in earnest.

Dream plunges his cock as deep as it can go, his cock pulsing and spurting hot seed, adding to the wetness inside Hob. It’s enough to pull Hob over the edge too, groaning and creating a puddle underneath him. As Dream coaxes him through the aftershocks, he pulls out and rolls him over on his side. His dick twitches at the filthy sight that follows, cum dripping out of Hob’s hole and onto his thighs.

He lies down beside his lover, pulling him to nestle against his own chest.

Dream plants a kiss to the crown of Hob’s head. “You take me so well beloved. Let me take care of you now.” With a wave of his hand, they both are clean of any sweat and bodily fluids, save for Hob’s dripping hole, which he presses a plug into. Hob shivers and hums, always happy to stay full of his lover. Dream holds him as Hob drifts in and out of consciousness.

Later, he rolls over to face Dream and asks, “Do you think we could try something… more intense some day?”

Dream has to bite his own fist not to cum on the spot.                                                                                                                                     

[seiya-starsniper]

Smapril Day 18 - claiming

I'm back with a vengeance after my vacation! Today's late night Smapril prompt comes to you based off a gorgeous wip @lucid-dreamling shared that I just... absolutely went feral for. So much so that I wrote 3k words about it ahhwhssjbsbweb. Once I get the full thing beta'd, I'll post that as well, but have a snippet for now!

As always, all smutty drabbles are dedicated to my beloved @staroftheendless 💖

“You may call me Dream,” the god says, eyes focused on Hob’s cock. 

Of course his name is Dream, Hob thinks. A being like that could only come from his wildest imaginations. 

"Dream," Hob replies, and he does not bother hiding the arousal in his voice when it is so clearly reciprocated. “Are you pleased with the offering of my body?”

“I am,” Dream replies, finally lifting his eyes to meet Hob’s once more. “I have decided you will become my chosen maiden. You are aware of the responsibilities, correct?”

Hob nods, and recites the words drilled into his mind from the moment he was selected. “In exchange for immortal life and health, I will warm your bed however you wish me to. My devotion to your needs will strengthen your power, so that in turn, you may continue to guard our village from peril.”

Dream hums, satisfied with Hob’s answer. “Very good. You have been well prepared. Now come to me, my maiden. I would taste you now, and seal our pact.”

Hob barely holds himself from dashing into Dream’s arms at the command, but only just. When he reaches the other side of the clearing, Dream does not hold back and yanks the thin fabric of Hob’s robe towards him before their lips crash together.

Hob moans into the kiss, and Dream slips an inhumanly long tongue into his mouth. It probes all the way to the back of Hob’s throat, and he gags at the sudden intrusion. Dream quirks his lips at the noise, and withdraws his tongue. Hob misses it already.

“You taste divine, beloved maiden,” Dream whispers against Hob’s lips. One of Dream’s right hands cards itself through Hob's thick chest hair, while the other traces a pattern along his pelvis. Hob whines and bucks into the touch but Dream’s left hands grip his hips to still him. 

“Not yet,” Dream chides him, kissing along the column of Hob’s throat. “I need to complete the mark first. Then you and I can consummate our bond.”

Hob groans but stills himself so Dream can continue drawing the Maiden’s Mark on him. The mark binds him specifically to Dream, and no other god or mortal man will be able to touch Hob after this. The thought had initially terrified Hob, but as he stands here in Dream’s arms, cock leaking painfully all over himself, he knows that he is already absolutely ruined for anyone else. 

When Dream completes the mark, he whispers an incantation in a language Hob does not know. Then suddenly, Hob’s skin is alight with heat and he feels Dream’s magic rushing into his body, binding them together.

The mark sears into him like a brand. Perhaps it is one, Hob thinks. A mark of ownership. A claim on his personhood. His soul.

"Now you are mine," Dream growls into his ear. Hob feels one set of hands grip his hips while the other set roams along his body, fingertips dancing along his skin. When Dream's fingers brush the Maiden's Mark on his lower abdomen, Hob jolts violently and moans. Dream's touch feels like lightning on his skin. 

“You’ve received my mark remarkably well,” Dream murmurs, and then Hob feels a hand close around his exposed cock. “Now it is time for us to begin.”

[serenailith]

smapril drabbles 2-5

day 2: double-penetration

Hob isn’t sure how this became his life, but he can’t find it in him to question it. Not when a cock is buried so far down his throat, another in his arse, the two Dreams moving in tandem. When one pulls out, the other pushes in, and Hob is nearly sobbing at the sensations that come with being used. The desire to be nothing more than a fucktoy for the love of his life.

A hand tangles in his hair, holds him still, and he lets his jaw drop impossibly wider when the Dream before him thrusts faster. Hob chokes around the hard length, moaning like the whore his lover calls him when the Dream behind slams into him over and over. His head spins with the lack of oxygen, his nose pressed to the thatch of inky-black hair, and he manages a whimper when the grip on his hair tightens.

He comes untouched to the sound of twin praise.

more under the cut

on ao3 starting here

day 3: voyeurism/exhibitionism

Dream whimpers at the sharp snap of Hob’s hips and the hand keeping his chest pinned to the floor. Whispers fill his ears, the occasional low moan from off to his right; he can feel the gazes on him, heavy and desirous, but nothing matters except for how Hob is fucking him so roughly, so beautifully, so perfectly.

“Look at how they watch you, my love, my beautiful,” Hob whispers. “Look.”

Dream does. He peels his eyes open to see Dreams and Nightmares alike watching their Creator be torn apart, rebuilt to Hob’s specifications. A moan rips free when Hob stills with his hips pressed to Dream’s arse, cock twitching as he fills Dream. His hand snakes around, grasps Dream’s cock, and it takes only two strokes before Dream comes, his cry echoing in the chamber.

His Creations vanish from view at the tremulous wave of a hand, but Dream will never forget how it felt to be seen like this.

day 4:  "yes, right there" (and maybe some sexual denial if you squint?)

Dream presses his palms to the cold block wall, shifting to the side until he hears: “Yes, right there.”

His heart hammers in his chest, and he gasps at the cold finger prodding at his hole. A warm hand massages his flank, murmured words of praise until he relaxes, then he moves until his chest is against the wall. Hob groans long and loud.

“You’re such a gorgeous sight like this, my love.”

Dream sighs as Hob’s fingers pass over his prostate once, twice, over and over. He’s relentless, thrusting into Dream’s pliant body until he’s moaning desperately. Dream’s cock leaks steadily, and he scrabbles at the wall even as he rocks back into Hob’s touch. He’s close—so close—so—

Hob pulls his fingers free, and Dream damn near sobs.

day 5: "do as i say" & naked in public

Hob wants to. His hands burn to touch, but Dream had pleaded “Do as I say”. And Hob wants to be good, he wants Dream to be happy, to be pleased. So Hob has to wait. In the butter-soft binds around his wrists keeping them together behind his back, with his knees pressed into the plush cushion, a strip of silk over his eyes. He has to listen blindly to the gentle rustling of Dream’s robes as he moves—stalks, as a wild animal would their prey. To the denizens of the Dreaming come to watch.

Dream’s touch is careful, tender, so different than Hob expects, as he eases Hob to the floor. The stone is bitingly cold against his bare skin, and he lets out a near-silent hiss when Dream lifts his hips higher. A finger hooks around the collar adorning Hob’s throat; he gets no warning before his love, his King, is pushing into his readied hole. Everything goes warm in Hob’s head, his chest and bones and everything he is, and he relaxes into the steady push-and-pull. He sinks into the rhythm, counts each beat of his heart matching Dream’s pacing, slips further under the sea burning him alive.

He’s claimed.

[teejaystumbles]

Smapril Day 12: "Fuck me, coward."

(also spawned because of discussions on the friend server about Ferdie's/Hob's body shape and that he is no bodybuilder and in fact very similar to Tom in shape - a fact which I absolutely love)

Meeting with Hob Gadling after being late by thirty years does not go as Dream was expecting. The initial smile and casual acceptance vanish quickly as Hob becomes increasingly agitated over something Dream can't quite determine. Hob is fidgeting constantly, pulling his ear and biting his nails and he frowns a lot when Dream relays to him in simple but clear words where he has been the last century and why he could not make their appointment. Dream does not find these habits off-putting but they make him wonder what Hob is thinking. When Dream finally says that he got out on Tuesday, Hob suddenly hits his palm flat on the table and stands. His eyes are dark and he looks furious.

"On Tuesday. This week?" 

Dream nods and frowns. Hob's anger does not make sense to him. Hob's nostrils flare. He turns from the table and says while already walking away, voice tense: "Will you come up to my flat, please?"

Dream, a bit confused but also intrigued, silently follows him up the stairs in the back of the Inn.

Hob's flat is…cozy, if Dream would have to choose a word. It is not overly clean but cluttered in a way that tells stories of the person living here and Dream appreciates that. He has missed much of Hob's life, not just in the last century. His eyes trail curiously over postcards, books and figurines, a mix and match of furniture from several centuries and finally land on Hob, standing in the living room, shedding his jacket. Underneath Hob is wearing only a white t-shirt and Dream feels his throat go dry at the sight. Has he ever seen this much of Hob's skin before? He can't recall. The shirt clings tightly to his frame and Dream cocks his head. Hob's waist. It is…far more slender than Dream thought. Hasn't Hob been more of a heavily set man? He searches his memory of their past encounters and comes up with too dim lighting and clothes with too many layers to discern anything definitive about his friend's body type. Intrigued, he takes a step closer.

Hob turns around and looks at him. He is still frowning but his anger seems to be infused with something like desperation or sadness as well now. 

"Hob. What is the matter?" Dream asks while still cataloging every inch of newly revealed skin and body detail. This is not how he has imagined his friend when he has indulged in idle fantasy while he was captured. For one, Hob is less broad and heavy and for another, a lot more hairy than Dream thought. It makes him reconsider the configuration he has been fantasizing about. Alone in his prison he had dreamed of being taken care of, being loved and taken apart by gentle but strong hands. Now he wonders. Imagines himself clasping his hands firmly on Hob's trim form. Wonders if Hob will bend beneath him. If Hob will let him take care of him.

Dream wants to lay his hands on his waist and measure it, feel if Hob's ribs are discernible beneath his flesh, find out how far the bit of chest hair he can see peeking out at Hob's shirt collar spreads…

Tentatively he reaches out and touches his fingertips to his friend's naked forearm, not thicker than Dream's own. Hob shivers and takes a step back. He opens his mouth, closes it again, swallows. Then he finally says: "You got out a few days ago from being imprisoned for over a hundred years…and you come to me…to ME?"

He seems bewildered. Dream blinks at him, confused. "I was very late. I would not leave you waiting any longer than necessary."

Hob, curiously, shivers again and lets himself fall back on a maroon Chesterfield sofa that compliments the colours and the shape of Hob greatly (copper, bronze, amber, earth - hair, skin, eyes, even scent, all of it warm and comforting). Dream wonders if perhaps he is unwelcome. But none of Hob's behaviour has indicated that he doesn't want him here. 

"Why does that make you angry?" he asks, because that is the question. Hob sighs and pushes his right hand through his hair. Dream follows the motion with his eyes. Hob's wrist looks like Dream can wrap his whole hand around it easily. Dream wants to grab it, feel the bones under his fingers, push until Hob is lying beneath him… The thought makes him flush and, feeling daring, he lets it rise to the surface of his skin. Hob doesn't look up and therefore doesn't see the way he is affecting Dream. 

"I…I guess I think you should properly take care of yourself first? Like, talk to friends, confidants? A therapist?"

Dream slowly sinks down on the sofa beside him and Hob looks up. He flushes, startled at Dream's sudden proximity. Dream gently lays his hand on Hob's and traces the raised metacarpal bones when Hob tenses. The texture of the fine dark hairs on the back of Hob's hand is another thing he carefully commits to memory. The sharp disparity between Hob's masculine features and his almost delicate bone structure makes the heat in Dream's core grow by the minute. He wants.

Dream looks at Hob from under his eyelashes when he answers quietly:

"You are my friend. I came to you. I wanted. To see you."

Hob draws in a sharp breath and blushes. His right hand pulls at his earlobe again and his eyes dart away, to the window, back to where Dream's hand grips his left one, up again to meet Dream's eyes.

"Alright. I'm…very happy you did. It is…surprising, though. I still don't know your name." Hob chuckles helplessly and drops his gaze to their hands again, wiggling his under Dream's. Dream does not let go, instead he pushes his hand up Hob's forearm, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch, relishing the sensation of raised hairs. He touches his fingertips to the soft flesh of Hob's inner elbow, feeling for the soft thrum of his brachial artery underneath the delicate skin. Then he lets his hand slide back down and settles his fingers around Hob's wrist in a more firm grip. Hob's breathing has become quicker and when Dream tightens his fingers around his wrist he lets out a stifled moan. Dream looks up and catches Hob trying to hide his flushed face behind his other hand. When their eyes meet Hob swallows and then lifts his strong chin in defiance.

"Still won't tell me, huh? But you came. You're here. And I've seen you looking the last few minutes. I can see what you want."

Dream tilts his head in question and gives him a tiny smirk. Hob's eyes are burning, just like his cheeks, but he bares his teeth at Dream and says: "Fuck me, coward."

Dream freezes and gapes at him. Hob grins at him, a little wild and unhinged and Dream feels like looking at a daring young human in a smoky tavern in 1389. Should he have introduced himself back then? No. If only to have the pleasure of this moment.

Dream does not grin back but instead looks into his eyes with complete sincerity, as he quickly grabs Hob's other wrist as well and pushes his arms above his head, bearing him slowly down onto the sofa cushions. Hob doesn't fight him, he goes down willingly and arches beneath Dream with a groan. Dream puts his mouth to Hob's ear and purrs: "You may call me Dream…if you need a name to scream, my dear."

"Dream...Dream…yes, please!" Hob moans and arches his back beautifully again and Dream sets to exploring the still unknown shape of Hob Gadling with teeth and tongue and hands and all of himself.

[chaosheadspace]

Smapril day 3. possessive

So I realised i have made a few smut snippets I never actually put on tumblr. Please enjoy.

The bedroom is filled with the soft light of early morning, the sounds of the street muffled by the closed window, much like Dream's whimpers and moans are muffled by the pillow as Hob rails him from behind.

"God, you're so - hnnnnh - so -" Hob tries to articulate and fails. Dream understands him nonetheless, shoves himself back onto Hob's cock with a moan, his hole fluttering. He doesn't think he can hold out any longer.

"Dream - Dream, love, please - hah - please touch yourself, I can't -"

And Dream moves his hand down, his thighs trembling against Hob's, long fingers skirting down his belly, and then stops, just short of his own cock and lets out the filthiest moan Hob has ever heard in his long, long life.

" Dream? Are you - "

Dream grabs one of his hands and presses it against the smooth skin of his stomach. Hob doesn't understand, his rhythm faltering slightly, and - Oh. Oh.

"Is that -" he pants out, rocking harder into Dream.

"Yes," Dream almost wails, his other hand tugging at his own hair erratically. "Hob."

Hob swears, palms at Dream's stomach again, where he can feel himself through the pale skin, can feel the touch of his own hand on his cock, softened only by a thin barrier of flesh and skin.

"Oh fuck." Hob ruts into Dream again, into their entwined hands clutched against Dream's belly.

"Hob. Hob. HOB!" Dream screams his name with increasing  intensity while Hob can't help himself and slams harder into Dream, erratic and needy.

Dream comes first, untouched, his eyes screwed shut, his cry clear and high, the pillow long gone. Hob follows after, sobbing against Dream's milk white shoulder and he swears he can feel the violent spurt of come from the outside, too.

[aquilaafterdark]

smapril 25

Day 25  single dad | oh (italicized)| "Shouldn't you be on your knees?" prompts by lovely @staroftheendless tags: semi-public sex

It’s 7:00 PM and Hob is pushed up against the door of a supply closet in the year 4 classroom. By the only other single dad in the PTA. He ought to be ashamed of himself, truly, for doing such heinous things in the hallowed halls of learning. But he isn’t, not when Mr. Endless, Morpheus is pressed against him, sucking a mark into his neck. His hands run up and down Morpheus’s sides then take their time crawling up to his shoulders.

Hob gives him a gentle push back.

“Everything alright?” Morpheus asks in a voice like dark chocolate.

Oh. Hob is fucked. His cock throbs in his trousers at the sound.

He grins, hopeful the white of his teeth is visible in the dim light.

“Yeah, just one thing.”

Dream gives a questioning hum.

“Shouldn’t you be on your knees?”

[aquilaafterdark]

smapril 21

Day 21  domestic | "Don't test me." Hello and welcome to the first smapril fill on the new blog! As always a hearty bow for the smutlord @staroftheendless and their prompt genius! tags: handjobs, morning sex, domesticity

When Dream reaches out for Hob in the morning, he hits only sheets. He rests for a few minutes more, enjoying the rays of sun kissing the bed.

With a sigh, he rolls out of the bed and heads toward the kitchen. He’s greeted to the sight of Hob, garbed in only his boxers, humming and cooking pancakes. Dream takes a moment to appreciate the sight of his lover. The broad span of his back is lined by eight red lines, scabbed over but still puffy. He feels a shiver run down his spine and plant itself in his groin. Looking further, he appreciates Hob’s furry legs, muscles still strong and prominent despite a more sedentary lifestyle these days. Bruises are sucked into his thighs from all angles, some breaching the interior of his knees. He notices Hob’s neck is lacking fresh marks. He must’ve forgotten that they’d faded the night before.

No time like the present.

“Hello, Hob,” Dream says, wrapping his arms around Hob’s middle. He drapes himself across his lover’s back, nosing at the slope between neck and shoulder and pressing his own arousal to Hob’s ass.

“Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” Hob grins, leaning his head back to beg for a kiss.

Dream obliges him with a quick peck, then sets to busying his hands. One moves upwards to sink into Hob’s chest hair, the thick dark strands alighting his nerve endings with tingles. He moves to the fullness of Hob’s pec, giving it a squeeze before focusing his attention on the rosy nipple at its peak. Dream brushes his finger around the areola a few times, watching the hair on the back of Hob’s neck standing up as he finally rolls his nipple between his pointer finger and thumb.

At the same time, his other hand snakes its way down Hob’s soft belly, grabbing handfuls of the soft padding there until he hits the waistband of his boxers.

“Don’t test me, darling, or else we’re going to have some very burnt pancakes on our hands.” Hob presses back into Dream, spatula already slipping from his hand.

“The pancakes…” Dream slips his hand into Hob’s boxers, taking the heft of him in hand. “Can wait.”

Hob flips the burners off with shaking hands, then turns to face Dream, pushing him out of the kitchen.

“Lead the way, lover,” he smirks.

[gabessquishytum]

smapril day 7 - gloves

The gauntlets do it, in the end. Brown leather, made soft by frequent wear. Hob comes into their shitty student flat from his ridiculous LARPing group and flings himself down on the sofa with a grin. He's sweating heavily and his hair is plastered to his forehead. He's halfway out of his silly medieval costume so there's no armour clanking around, but Dream gives him a sneering glance anyway.

"I had hoped that you might find a less cringeworthy hobby." He sighs. Hob looks at him and rolls his eyes. 

"Coming from you, that is incredibly hypocritical. You literally run a D&D campaign. And you vape. That's cringier than anything I do, and you know it."

He's struggling to get the gloves off. Perhaps they're too tight, or the sweat is making the leather stick to his skin. Dream grabs his hand on instinct and pulls at the gloves fingers, succeeding in moving them only slightly. He scowls.

In his defense, he is spectacularly hungover. Which is probably why he gets the brilliant idea to put his mouth where his hands haven't succeeded. He can pull much harder with his teeth. He isn't sure why he's so invested in getting the gloves off for Hob now, but he is.

And he puts the leather into his mouth.

Hob says "uhhhh?" as Dream pulls, hard. The glove shifts brilliantly, sliding off Hob’s palm with ease. Unfortunately, Dream chooses this moment to engage eye contact. Hob’s glove is still dangling from his teeth.

"Is it weird that I'm turned on by that? It is. It's definitely weird." Hob mutters. He makes no move to take the glove, but he does hold up his other hand. "Fancy doing the other one, now we've crossed this boundary?"

Dream sucks the fingers of the glove in his mouth thoughtfully. They taste good, like sweat and metal. So he nods, lays that glove in his lap, and leans in to Hob’s over hand.

He doesn't pull the glove off, though. He's decided that he'd quite like to keep it there. He does take two hot, leather clad fingers into his mouth, and he sucks them until the taste is ingrained on his tongue. Until Hob’s other hand, bare and gentle, settles in his hair and pulls him down closer.

He tastes just as good under his authentically sewn medieval braies. Good enough that Dream suddenly forgets to complain about his embarrassing hobby ever again.

[aquilathefighter]

Smapril Day 6

Day 06  knifeplay | "I guess we could do it right here."

smut for the smutlord @staroftheendless

Dream finds himself pinned to the wall in a dark alley, knife to his throat. The man holding the blade has a smile that is just as sharp.

“Nice ruby you got there, mate. Care to share with a poor little peasant?” The man—Hob, his friends had called him, teases as he pushes a leg between Dream’s own.

Dream grunts, his cock hardening under the heat. He meets Hob’s gaze, burning hunger matching in the other’s eyes.

“Oh? You want something else… pretty rich lordling like you come to take a roll in the hay with the commonfolk?” Hob asks as he begins to trace down Dream’s abdomen with the blade. When he reaches the waistband of Dream’s bottoms, his other hand trails up the bulge to steady the garment.

Dream throws his head back against the wall as he hears the unmistakable sound of steel gliding through linen, the pressure so deliciously close to his cock.

“Such a pretty neck you have, little lordling. Probably best I don’t mar it with my blade.” Hob takes a step back and Dream lets out a whine that he would be embarrassed of later.

“Are you not going to fuck me?” Dream asks haughtily, his cock now exposed as the remnants of his breeches hang from his ankles.

“I was going to take you back to the stables, but I guess we could do it right here. Turn around, your highness,” Hob gestures with a hand, pressing his own hard length against Dream’s arse as soon as he does.

[seiya-starsniper]

It is still technically @pintobordeaux's birthday in my timezone so I am dedicating today's Smapril prompt to them 💖💖 Because friends gift each other smut, isn't that right @staroftheendless? ���

Day 5 - "Do as I say."

tags: omegaverse

When Dream presents as an omega, he feels as if he were a puppet with its strings cut off.

Were he born to any other family than his own, he could have started heat suppressants. Completed schooling. Perhaps even entered society passing as a beta without having to ever acknowledge his second nature until he was ready to settle down and have a child.

The Endless family, however, has different aspirations.

Dream is passed along from suitor to suitor, and each one he finds lacking in some way or another. His blood does not sing for these men and women, his instincts do not call for any of them to be his other half. It is a fortunate thing for him that a mating cannot be completed without the full consent of the omega, else Dream feels his family would have married him off to the first willing suitor. But forced mates do not make successful pregnancies, and the Endless values their lineage above all else.

Then one day, Hob Gadling comes along.

Hob is the only alpha son of the Gadling family, and his failure to find a suitable omega mate at the age of 35 is nearly as scandalous as Dream’s unmated status at age 28. Dream knows little else about the man, but he learns many things one night when the man crowds Dream against a bookshelf alone in the Endless family library.

Dream has met and been courted by many alphas, but there are no alphas like Hob Gadling.

“Do as I say,” Hob whispers, trailing kisses along the line of Dream’s neck. “For the next few days…and we can both have what we want.”

“What could you possibly know of what I want?” Dream growls in response.

“I can smell your want, my little nightmare,” Hob growls back. “Were I a lesser gentleman, I would have you right here on the library floor.”

Dream wants to push him away, to swallow down this heat that has erupted between them. But he can feel the slick pooling between his legs, can smell the arousal from Hob’s body, and Dream wants, for the first time, to have an alpha knot inside of him.

Instead of voicing these thoughts, he says, “What’s stopping you?”

Hob practically howls as he picks Dream up from against the bookshelf and then drops him into the nearest chaise lounge in the far back corner of the library. Dream whines loudly when the alpha’s head drops between his legs and noses at the wet spot quickly forming at the seat of his trousers.

“Tell me, my pretty little nightmare,” Hob whispers to his cunt. “Tell me how you want me to touch you, how to worship you. I’ll make your wildest dreams come true.”

[gabessquishytum]

smapril day 18 - claiming

"Mine." Seems to be Dream’s favourite word at the moment. And Hob certainly isn't inclined to disagree.

The pretty, slim little omega currently has Hob (broad, thickset and definitely not little) pinned to the mattress. Delicate hands are wrapped around Hob’s wrists to keep him still, and Dream is straddling his hips. 

Dream is in preheat, and he's mostly still lucid. He's also got enough control over his horniness to be grinding slowly against Hob’s cock, rather than sinking down on the length like being empty will actually kill him.

"You smell like other people." Dream growls. His eyes narrow, and he ruts his drooling entrance against the base of Hob’s cock where his knot will eventually swell. "I don't. Like it. You are mine."

"Yours." Hob agrees, a little breathlessly. He rolls his hips and Dream gasps sweetly. Another flood of slick gushes against Hob’s skin. "C'mon, baby. My lovely omega. Let me fuck your sweet hole? You can make me smell just like you again."

Dream makes a rumbling sound of agreement. He leans down and licks a stripe over Hob’s cheek. "Your cock is mine, Hob. Your knot is mine too. No one else will ever know what it feels like, will they?"

"No one else, sweetheart." Dream's hands loosen enough for Hob to be able to move. He reaches for Dream’s hips and holds him, squeezing him reassuringly. "It's all yours, baby. Just let me show you."

Dream’s growls turn to purrs as he allows Hob to help him to mount up onto his cock. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, and Hob can see his lips moving in a silent chorus.

"Mine."

[gabessquishytum]

smapril day 13 & 14 - ‘how would you make me scream’ and ‘I can see it in your eyes’

It starts with a conversation about male erogenous zones. In the New Inn, of all places.

“So I said, if God didn’t want you to be gay, he wouldn’t have put your prostate up your bum, now would he?” Hob says, pulling on one of the taps to fill up a glass of beer. It’s a movement that Hob somehow manages to sexualise. Or perhaps Dream is looking too hard. “And he claimed to have no idea what a prostate even was — can I get you something, Linda?”

The grey haired, elegantly dressed woman who has just appeared beside Dream at the bar laughs melodiously. “I’d like a white wine spritzer. Who didn’t know what a prostate was?”

“Ronald Reagan.” Hob says cheerfully (and truthfully). Linda takes it as a joke and chuckles pleasantly as she pays for her drink. Dream smiles politely at her, knowing that it pleases Hob to see him interacting with “the masses”.

As though rewarding some good behaviour, Hob tops up Dream’s glass and leans over for a quick kiss. “Linda’s a sex therapist.” He adds in a low tone. “If you want to go over and pick up some tips.”

Dream bristles for a fraction of a second before recognising that he’s being lovingly teased, rather than mocked. “I doubt that she could tell me anything I do not already know. I am made of the erotic and the sensual. I could make you scream for all your patrons to hear.”

Hob shivers, and Dream gets to watch his lovely dark nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His eyes dart towards the clock on the wall and then towards the door marked “staff only”.

��Hmm. Have you ever had a tryst in a cleaning cupboard, Mister Erotic and Sensual? And have you considered exactly how you would make me scream?”

Dream, as it happens, has not. Yet.

"You want everyone to hear you, my sweet Hob. I can see it in your eyes." Dream murmurs. Hob whimpers brokenly, his hands grasping onto the nearest shelf. Dream has three fingers buried deep in his beloved, and even though the cupboard is dark as pitch, he can see every flutter of Hob’s eyelashes, every twitch of every muscle.

"Such a dirty slut, just for my fingers. You do not even need a cock to satisfy you, do you? This is enough for your desperate little hole." Dream is keeping his voice low, but Hob is having far more trouble being quiet. He keeps letting out the most pathetic little mewling sounds as his greedy hole sucks Dream’s fingers in deeper.

"Dream, ahh, please, please." He gasps. "So, so good. Ngghh." His voice breaks completely as Dream teases another finger at his rim, and presses the three already inside him firmly against his prostate. Hob’s legs nearly give out completely, and Dream has to grip him tightly by the waist to keep him upright.

"You can let go for me, my love. My good little hedonist." Dream encourages, just as seductive as Desire themself. He presses the fourth finger against Hob's sensitive rim, just caressing the skin while Hob convulses in pre-orgasmic ecstasy. A bottle of cleaning fluid tumbles from the shelf and Hob uses the sound to cover up a high pitched moan. His cock twitches as he cums into his own cupped palm, riding Dream’s fingers all the way through.

It isn’t quite a scream. But Dream is far from being disappointed. The cupboard smells quite satisfactorily of sex, and a peep into the daydreams of the pub’s patrons suggest that Hob’s disheveled appearance when he stumbles back to the bar doesn’t go unnoticed.

Linda raises her glass at Dream. He smiles, and settles in at the bar to enjoy the rest of the evening.

[gabessquishytum]

smapril day 10 - hair pulling

Dream does feel a little guilty, even though it was entirely Hob’s suggestion.

"I don't want to owe you anything. I could kill someone for you, but I don't think you need me to do that. So I'll suck your cock, and we don't have to mention it ever again."

His eyes have a fierce glow to them as he speaks, despite his dirty face and sunken cheeks. And Dream can't help but indulge Hob’s need not to feel indebted. It's honestly the least Dream can do, and even though he's filthy and bruised, there's certainly something about Hob that is still attractive. His ragged shirt is showing off an unusual amount of flesh and Dream… is happy to be tempted.

He doesn't think that a few cups of wine and a plate of meat are quite worth what Hob is currently doing. The man's mouth is stretched wide around Dream’s cock and his nose is nearly buried in the neat black pubic hair at the base. He's swallowing around the head and rubbing his tongue up and down the length like he does this every day of the week.

A peep inside Hob’s dreams suggests that yes, he does this often. But perhaps he doesn't usually enjoy the task quite as much as he is now.

He grabs hold of one of Dream’s hands and pushes it towards his own head, until Dream gets the message after a second or two. He wraps his fingers around the (dirty, unkempt) locks of hair and tugs until Hob moans throatily, sending a buzz of sensation through Dream’s body. He leans back into the brick alleyway behind him and Hob shuffles forward on his knees. Like he's worried Dream is going to pull his cock away entirely.

Dream fists his hand tighter in Hob’s hair. Trying to reassure him that he isn't going anywhere. He starts up a few shallow thrusts into the back of Hob’s throat, and Hob moans for him again. A few tears drip down his nose, streaking his dirty cheeks.

If he felt such human emotions, Dream would be ashamed of how much those tears excite him, driving him closer to his peak.

He expects Hob to pull off, to turn his head and spit when his mouth is filled up with cum. Instead, he swallows obediently and presses his head into the palm of Dream’s hand. Seeking comfort, whether it's intentional or not.

He pulls Hob’s hair one last time, using the leverage to help him up to his feet. That fiery look is back in his eyes again.

"A hundred years, then?" Hob whispers. Dream nods - not quite speechless, but certainly robbed of his usual vocal abilities.

"A hundred years." He says. And dissappears, into a shower of sand.

[aquilathefighter]

Smapril 4

Day 04  hairy | sexual denial | "Yes, right there."

lovely prompts from the even lovelier @staroftheendless <3

“Hob. Come here,” Dream says, unmoving from his spot on Hob’s couch.

“Yes, dearheart?” Hob strolls across the flat from the kitchen. His white t-shirt is dampened across his chest and belly, showing patches of the dark thicket of hair that lies underneath. Dream grabs at the hem of his shirt and pulls him closer. Hob trips over his own feet, landing squarely in Dream’s lap. Dream hums in pleasure as he dips his hands underneath the shirt, fingers brushing the damp hairs.

Hob begins to squirm as Dream makes his way up his abdomen to his chest.

“Hnngh… Dream… What’s got you all riled up like this?” he asks as he adjusts his position to be astride Dream.

The only reply is a moan and the feeling of rapidly growing hardness under him. Hob shouts as Dream pushes past the border of hair to tweak Hob’s nipples.

“Yes, right there!”

He scoots forward even closer to Dream, hoping to get his want across as he presses his erection to Dream’s belly. Dream groans again, his hands slipping down and out of Hob’s shirt.

Hob whines at the loss of contact until he realizes the shirt is coming off. He launches himself at Dream once he’s escaped, meeting his lips in a bruising kiss.

“Take me to bed, lover,” he whispers into Dream’s ear, rewarded with a shiver and a nip to his jaw. Dream grabs his hips and strides to the bedroom in no time.

Hob is tossed on the bed, landing with his arms out to either side of him, the full glory of his chest on display. Dream crawls on top of him only to bury his face in a bed of deep brown curls.

Muffled, he says, “You are magnificent, Hob Gadling. Your ursine qualities have bewitched me.”

Hob arches his back as Dream’s mouth finds his nipple. He has a feeling he may be here for a while before getting any relief for his aching cock.