#soft dom hob

[notallsandmen]

1889 soft dom Hob pointing sternly with a cigar is giving me Emotions

[griombrioch]

Hi!!! Anon here who asked about your ao3 handle in regards to keeping up with your soft dom Hob!

I lost track of you for a bit on here (sad) but managed to track down your original soft dom Hob bit (yay!) and so now I’m caught back up on your writings!!! And I’m so happy about it!!

Okay thank you! Love ya!! Love your work!! Thank you for sharing it!!!

Omg thank you so much?? You're lovely <3

I actually have a little bit of touch-starved Dream that I wrote and couldn't find anywhere to fit it in, but I'll take the excuse to post it here for you, eh? I suppose this isn't explicitly soft dom hob, but I do imagine it in the same verse.

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Were Hob a couple centuries younger and perhaps a bit less accustomed to having his privacy violated by the supernatural, he might have screamed at the sight of someone towering by his bed at three in the morning. Or reached for a weapon.

As it is though, Hob barely jerks as he wakes. 

“Dream?” he squints at the faint outline of his boyfriend against the dark of the bedroom. “... what’re you doing?”

A pause.

“I’m… tired.” 

He certainly looks it. For the physical embodiment of sleep, Dream looks utterly exhausted. More than usual. The space beneath his eyes is bruise-dark. Hob thinks his pupils look blown and dazed. He wonders what’s happened, why Dream hasn’t just come to him in his own realm and instead chose to wake him up in his flat. 

“I know,” he murmurs in lieu of asking. Hob’s spine cracks as he pushes the duvet back and sits up against the headboard. “Come here then, sweetheart.” 

Dream stares at him for a moment, borderline glaring, jaw set like he’s going to refuse - but Hob knows him well at this point. Dream wouldn’t have come if he did not want something. 

He’s proven correct when Dream finally, reluctantly approaches. His steps are quiet - he must have already removed his shoes, if he even came with them at all. His overcoat melts away as he plants a knee on the bed, like it had never been there at all. Hob reaches out to grasp his hip, and that’s apparently all the permission Dream needs before he’s climbing into his lap, folding spindly legs around Hob’s thighs, curling himself down, down, down until his forehead meets sturdy shoulder. 

Morpheus had once been so touch-starved that he’d shake when Hob so much as clasped his shoulder. It’s a ritual of theirs now, of sorts, to hold him in his lap and deliver bone-deep pressure. He has a lot of years to make up for, and Hob is grateful to be trusted with such a service. 

“There you go, love.” 

Dream whines.  

His back is tense and coiled, so Hob sets about fixing that. He kneads his fingers into the muscle at his waist first, coaxing the myofibers to slacken. He spends some time on his right shoulder, working out the knots under his scapula (idly, he wonders how the personification of dreams even acquires stress knots in the first place). Combs through his hair and tugs apart the tangles. 

“I..” Dream finally speaks, and Hob winces at how raw his voice sounds. Like he hasn’t used it in days. He tenses up like he’s trying to gear himself up to say something, but then deflates. “...I’m sorry I woke you.” 

Somehow asking for comfort makes his partner feel more vulnerable than some of their more questionable activities. Which. Still doesn’t make much sense to Hob, but he knows Dream well enough to know when to push and when to let him be.

“S’okay,” Hobs soothes with a hand on the back of his neck, teasing at the strands of hair there. “You’re allowed to just… have this, Dream. You know that? You don’t have to explain yourself. Not to me.”

Hob is stuck and the duvet is all twisted up into a useless lump and his achy knee is at an awkward angle, but that’s alright. Doesn’t even matter, not when Dream’s releasing a shuddering sigh and finally going boneless against his chest.

[notallsandmen]

It might be the history lecturer in me, but the idea of Hob being a doe-eyed, absolutely RUTHLESS grader just hits the soft dom bingo for me

So did anyone else pay attention to the paper hob was grading at the new inn? Because by God, that student is so fucked.

Dude got EVERY question wrong

[abyssalcryptid]

Always a good idea to sneak off during stuffy faculty events

click for better quality

[cuubism]

shibari fic u say? i cant wait to read this

ah yes. it doesn't exist yet. but i brought it up in Intemperate and since then the thought's lived in the back of my head, waiting.

it's

What would you do to me? Dream wondered. Given the liberty? As if he had heard the question, Hob started rambling, eyes falling shut. “You have no idea how pretty you look like that, on your knees. I don’t take it lightly. I don’t. I know you’re a king, I know you’re— and you make me mad, you make me want more, how could I possibly be given more than this? But you know me. One day, if you’ll have it, I’ll tie you up properly. And I know, okay? I know, you’ll have to trust me. If you really want to be on your knees. You make me want awful things. Beautiful things. Fuck—”

and

he let Hob’s daydreams bump up against him. Images of Dream on his knees again, naked this time, rope wound around him in intricate patterns, holding him there. Hob’s hands on the knots. Bound by kind hands rather than those that meant him harm, held in place to rend nothing from him but pleasure. And steadiness. Captured from the rough currents of himself.

and

Their gazes met. “You would—” Dream’s voice was rough— “bind me? Gently? Hob Gadling?” “Only so,” said Hob.

one day i'll make that a real story instead of just a passing thought, i hope

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙸𝚁𝙻

description: y/n is out of club play with an injury, potentially a big one, luckily england felt they could breathe again once they knew their captain hadn't suffered the three letters - but barcelona did not feel so lucky with an el classico around the corner.

smut

minors dni

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lucy bronze x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction do not take any of this seriously !

warnings: swearing, oral, light choking, slightly soft dom lucy, dom lucy, cunnilingus, strap-on fucking, dirty talk, slight cum play (like the smallest fucking bit) fluff, cuteness

smut

minors DNI

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y/n hummed along to the music which played softly from the radio, Narla was swirling through her legs, the dog licking her naked ankles every few minutes to demand a quick pat, which y/n happily did.

She was cooking breakfast, bacon, fried eggs, mushrooms and toast, Lucy's juice was already blended and waiting for when the woman woke up, though y/n didn't mind letting her sleep in.

With it being matchday -1, the team always had a late practice and y/n knew Lucy needed a lay in, her lover having to do a lot of work without her in midfield to bounce off.

Just as y/n plated the food up, two arms wrapped themselves around her waist, the taller girl burying her head into her lover's neck and inhaling the sweet scent.

"Morning baby." y/n hummed softly enjoying the warmth Lucy provided as she snaked a hand into the older woman's hair and scratched at the scalp.

"Always is with you." Lucy murmured, y/n laughing at that as she switched the hob off and turned to face the woman who was grinning.

"You Miss Bronze, are such a sap!" y/n giggled. Lucy chuckled, unable to help herself as she grinned lazily at her lover.

"It's your fault." She denies, before leaning in and placing her lips firmly on y/n's her hands gripping into the curve of her waist as y/n relaxed into the kiss.

A bark broke the two, Narla jumping onto her hind legs to press her paws against Lucy, pushing her away from y/n for a moment before the dog curled around y/n's ankles.

"You little shit!" Lucy grinned at Narla as y/n crouched down and cooed at her, running her hand over the dog. "She's mine Narla." Lucy adds as y/n stands back up.

y/n rolls her eyes at that, grabbing the plates and walking them over to the table while Lucy put Narla's food down, her dog licking her ankles in thanks.

"Yeah know you love me." Lucy scoffs, y/n chuckling as her lover walked over, the woman pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips. "How's the knee?" Lucy asks, sitting down next to her lover and running a cautious hand over the injury.

"Okay, only another few weeks and I am back to training." y/n promised, the injury was luckily not the three dreaded letters, but when she went down, both women thought it could be.

Lucy hummed, nodding her head as she began to push food into her mouth, her eyes zoning out as she replayed the injury and tackle in her head, the instant being something she blamed herself for.

Lucy had wondered out of position, having chased a loose ball and when she missed it, y/n covered her position and intercepted a key pass from their opponents.

However, as she pushed the pass out, a player had come flying in, the girl's studs pushing her knee back and dislocating it as y/n went flying back and knocked herself unconscious from slamming her head on the grass.

Lucy hadn't been able to remember a time where her heart hurt as much as it did then, watching her lover crumple to the ground, she was such a shaking mess she was even subbed off, being told to go be with her lover.

Lucy and y/n's relationship wasn't unknown, just private, only anniversary photos and the occasional snapshot of their love had been caught, but in that moment the cameras caught the worry of being in a five year relationship.

Lucy had been there when she woke up, holding her hand and running her fingertips over the skin, but she couldn't look y/n in the eye, and y/n could tell why almost instantly.

Lucy chased after the stray ball, y/n noticing she had left a gap and quickly filling it as she watched with a wince as the Levante player hammered it toward the player y/n had dropped back to mark.

Lucy turned, cursing herself for her mistake but sighing in relief when y/n brought the ball to her feet and passed it out to Ingrid.

But Lucy's relief turned to horror in a moment as she watched the Levante player tackle y/n late, the studs embedding into her knee and pushing it the wrong way.

With the strength of the player's tackle y/n was pushed harshly back, falling and smacking her head against the ground going motionless.

Lucy's stomach lurched as she felt truly sick, not even waiting for the whistle which echoed as she raced, grabbing her girlfriend's hand, holding it as the medics and team swarmed.

Lucy had paled, not even hearing Alexia asking her to move and Keira's response to the captain saying it was no use to try and move the woman.

Alexia made a sign at Jonatan switching for two instead of one. The man sighed but nodded his head, sending another player to warm up as he watched the stretcher be run on.

"Please baby, wake up." Lucy said softly, y/n groaning as the medics looked over to Lucy, understanding the woman was not moving.

The cameras followed every step of Lucy who followed the stretcher, tears being wiped away as she disappeared in the tunnel, heartbreak the only word near enough to describe her look.

"Don't do that." y/n warned her girlfriend as she took their empty plates.

"What?" Lucy asks, following her like a lost puppy as she watches y/n put the plates in the dishwasher.

"Blame yourself for my injury. It wasn't your fault Lucia." y/n promises, sliding onto the counter so she can bring Lucy in-between her legs.

"But if I..." Lucy began but y/n shut her up by pecking her lips. "But..." Lucy tried again, y/n cutting her off with a longer kiss.

"But nothing. It was a bad tackle, that was all." y/n promised Lucy who sighed.

"You just crumbled, your body just sagged, god it was horrid." Lucy denies, wrapping her arms around y/n's waist to pull her closer, y/n's legs automatically curling around Lucy's torso.

"But I'm fine now, I'm on the mend and I am all energised." y/n promises, running her hand through Lucy's hair, pulling it down and around her shoulders.

Lucy sighed her forehead connecting with y/n's as she pressed herself into y/n, inhaling the sweet smell she gave off. Lucy's hands stayed tight around her waist, her finger tips dancing across y/n's back.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you in my shirt?" Lucy asks, an innocent hum coming from her voice.

"You might have mentioned it." y/n nods, a small smile on her face as she lifts her hand, cupping Lucy's face and rubbing her thumb along her cheekbone.

"I love you in my shirt." Lucy tells her, tilting her head so their noses brush. "I love my last name on your back." She continues.

"You should hurry up and make it permanent then." y/n whispers cheekily, her lips brushing over Lucy's as she wonders whose resolve will break first.

"Patience baby. Patience." Lucy hums, before swiping forward and taking y/n's plump bottom lip in between her teeth, tugging as she bites down on the skin, needing the groaning reaction she receives.

Lucy pulls her lover closer, the two finally meeting in a heated kiss which both seemed determined to dominate, however, Lucy's hand raised, enclosing around her lover's neck and y/n instantly let her have all the control.

Lucy's tongue wrapped around her own, her hand squeezing y/n's throat just slightly before Lucy's lips pressed along her jaw and she bit at y/n's earlobe.

"Either I eat you out here, or I fuck you in the bedroom." Lucy all but groans out into y/n's ear, Lucy pulling her away from the counter slightly so y/n can rest on her bucking hips, Lucy sighing at the grinding friction she was creating.

"Bedroom." y/n gasps out and Lucy grins and moves back toward the bedroom, she places her lover down on the bed and moves upward.

The two meet in a deep kiss, Lucy quickly taking control when her hands bury themselves into y/n's hair, tugging the woman's head back to expose her neck.

Lucy kisses downward, nipping at the skin where y/n's collarbone and shoulder meet, the woman gasping out as Lucy fixes her top back onto her frame once happy with her marks.

"Knee okay baby?" Lucy asks as she fixes a pillow underneath y/n's bad knee.

"Fine. Don't worry about it." y/n whines out needily and Lucy can't help the dark chuckle which slips from her throat.

Ever since the injury, Lucy had tried to be less rough in bed though it did nothing to limit her dominance, she simply found other ways to keep y/n in line.

"So needy for me, aren't you baby?" Lucy asks her. "So needy to have me use you." She continues, her voice dropping to mock her lover.

"Please." y/n gasped, having no issue with begging for Lucy.

"Okay. Okay." Lucy nods, shuffling down so she was level with y/n's thighs, resting on her elbows.

y/n watched with baited breath as Lucy slowly kissed down her thighs, nipping at the skin when she felt like it, y/n gasping at every scrape of her teeth.

Lucy grinned as y/n's breath picked up, her hand trying to reach down to tangle in Lucy's hair, but y/n's hand is caught by Lucy's the woman pinning it to the mattress.

"No touching." Lucy whispered, blowing air onto the soaked fabric which covered y/n's aching pussy.

Ever so lightly, Lucy pulled the wet fabric down y/n's legs and threw them behind her, deciding they were a problem for later as she licked a stripe up.

y/n let out a gasp of relief as Lucy began to lick faster, as if tasting her was more in her brain then pleasuring her. Finally, Lucy's tongue circled her clit and y/n let out a moan.

"Luce." y/n whispered as Lucy repeated the action. The woman sat up briefly, tying her hair back as she stared at her lover.

The woman had a hand in her own hair, eyes filled with pleading as she tried to moved her hips, Lucy's eyes were dark, almost predatorial as she looked down at her shirt on her lover.

"I can't wait til I can fuck you from behind again. See our name on your back." Lucy says lowly, her voice gruff with arousal.

At the use of 'our' when talking about her name y/n moaned, unashamed of how aroused the word made her. Lucy grinned, moving down and wrapping her arms around y/n's hips, pulling her closer.

y/n groaned as Lucy licked again, her tongue flat as she swallowed the juices which smeared her lips as she licked once more.

"Could die between these legs." Lucy groaned before she pushed forward and darted her tongue into y/n's hole, the woman groaning and Lucy pushed her head closer, pressure pushing down on y/n's clit.

"Lucy." y/n moaned, having to bring her hands onto her head so she didn't touch her, because Lucy would stop if y/n disobeyed the rules.

Lucy's hand moved as her tongue continued pushing between y/n's walls, her thumb coming up to rub quick and harsh circles against y/n's clit.

y/n moaned out, her back arching as Lucy's actions became quicker and rougher, the woman groaning out when the snap in her stomach came quicker than expected, her orgasm pushing through her.

Lucy's hand stopped but her tongue didn't returning to it's lapping motion while she cleared the orgasm from y/n's pussy, groaning at her taste and going back once more to continue her motions.

Only when y/n was gasping weakly, begging for a moment from her over-stimulation did Lucy pull away, a smug grin on her face when she saw the state of her lover.

y/n's head was covered in a light sheen of sweat, her hair messed completely at the orgasm, her plump lips parted as she panted out as Lucy stepped away, only to step back over her moments later.

"One more for me, my good good girl." Lucy hummed, she moved down the strap between her legs pushing against y/n's sensitive clit which made her jolt.

Lucy moved forward, lips connect with y/n's as she pushed in, gasping as the pull on her own clit hit her. Her tongue swept through y/n's mouth, gagging her moan which tried to escape as Lucy eased into her thrusts.

"That's it, taking me so well." Lucy groans, her leg hooking over y/n's good one and putting the rest of her pressure on her knee and forearms which were either side of y/n's head.

Lucy's thrusts picked up, the strap hitting a perfect spot on them both as she continued to push into y/n's insides. Lucy moved her arm, pulling y/n's good leg around her waist.

Her thrusts sped up, y/n letting out constant moans which made Lucy bury her head into y/n's neck so she could groan as she chased her own high.

"Feels so good." y/n whined, hands clawing down Lucy's back, not thinking about the mess it would leave as her nails dug into the skin.

"Who makes you feel like this?" Lucy gasped out, her teeth pulling at y/n's earlobe.

"You do Luce." y/n moaned out, the slapping sounds which echoed from the thrusts becoming louder as Lucy somehow sped up.

"What are you?" Lucy asks.

"Yours. Only yours." y/n moans, knowing exactly what Lucy wanted to hear.

Lucy's breath halted for a moment, a sign she was close and y/n moved her hips up slightly to meet Lucy's which caused the woman to moan into y/n's ear.

"Can I?" y/n whined, knowing her asking for permission would push her lover over the edge.

"Cum." Lucy demanded, groaning as she did so, leaning down to bite into y/n's shoulder as the woman's back arched and she let out a breath as she orgasmed.

Lucy slowed her thrusts, not stopping for another minute as she rode out her high, ignoring the over-stimulated whines coming from her girlfriend.

Slowly Lucy pulled out, fingers dipping into her own pussy to scoop up her orgasm and pushing it into y/n's oversensitive hole.

y/n groaned and Lucy couldn't help but smirk as she watched y/n catch her breath again. Lucy unclipped the strap from her hips, moving to rest next to y/n as she let out a breath of content, throwing the wet strap on the bed.

"We're going to have the wash the sheets." y/n sighed out as Lucy pressed a loving and soft kiss against her lips.

"In a minute, just lay with me." Lucy said softly and y/n smiled, moving her head onto Lucy's hot shoulder.

"Always." y/n sighed out and Lucy moved down to bring y/n closer.

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y/n just posted on her story

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y/n and Mapi sat side by side, the two both out due to injuries as they look out on the Barcelona game currently happening. It was twenty minutes in and they were two goals up, curtesy of Aitana and Caroline.

The two friends were sat happily chatting, Aleixa who was next to y/n chiming in every so often as they talked. y/n was enjoying the warmth from the Barcelona evening.

Her beige cargo trousers kept her warmth while her arms were out due to the 'Bronze' Barcelona shirt she wore on her body, many people taking photos when they saw the woman able to WAG her lover.

As the clock ticked over, y/n watched as Lucy raced down the wing, Real hardly standing a chance against her as she defended with skill.

Lucy sent the ball through to Keira, switching through and receiving the ball back which she sent Caroline's way, the player getting her head on it as the keeper just pushed it wide for a corner.

Mapi and y/n groaned, both sitting back down with a sigh as Alexia chuckled at their child-like behaviour, the two pouting for the friend as Salma raised her hand to take the corner.

y/n watches as Salma sends the ball in, Lucy at the back post un-marked as she jumped and the ball flew in. y/n screamed in excitement as she clapped for her lover, the woman laughing as the team swarmed her.

Lucy pulled away from her team, looking for her lover as she raised her hands in a love heart shape, one which y/n did back causing the crowd to go crazy.

El Classico's were always something else, but for Barcelona to be three goals up before half time and missing their captain, a key defender and a key midfielder was a special game.

And suddenly for the fans things were so much better, because they had seen a y/n and Lucy interaction, which in game was a rare thing to truly see.

The game restarted, Lucy quickly blocking run from Del Castillo, she passed it to Ingrid, Del Castillo turning to run at the player, but Ingrid sent a ball through her legs and back to Lucy, who then did the same back to Ingrid.

"I would kill myself." y/n says as she and Mapi begin to giggle at their partners playing with her.

"She has been mothered." Mapi agrees which makes Alexia snort.

"By our girls as well." y/n says with a smile and Mapi pretends to wipe a tear as Lucy sends a ball into the box, Ona smashing it into the goal.

"VAMOS ONA!" Mapi shouts, y/n cheering for their young friend for scoring in her first classico.

y/n clapped excitedly, grinning at the sight of her girlfriend running back, the woman running a hand over her hair as she grins at Ona, the two high fiving.

"She's so hot." y/n sighs without thinking and Mapi snorts teasing her with mocking kisses.

y/n laughs shoving Mapi away as the whistle blows, y/n grinning as she and Mapi move down the stadium, the former trying to move as quick as possible.

Mapi and y/n part the latter quickly rushing into the Barcelona corridor, grinning at the sigh of her girlfriend leaning against the locker room wall waiting for her.

"You just had to score a goal when I wasn't on the pitch." y/n says, a jokingly hard looking in her eyes as Lucy chuckles, pulling her closer.

"Hmm, had to give my WAG a good game to watch." Lucy says quietly, leaning down to press a soft kiss against y/n's lips.

y/n chuckles against the kiss, pulling away to lift the hem of Lucy's shirt, the woman tensing slightly so the line in her abs was carved out in her toned stomach more.

"That's all the show I need." y/n teased, her hand running over them before dropping Lucy's shirt. "Keep that down though, don't want any more clips of you for people to thirst over." y/n adds.

Lucy smiles, a sense of pride always rushing through her when y/n got jealous, she pulled the woman in close to her chest, hands wrapping around her waist to keep her close.

"They're yours baby, those people thirst over something that's yours." Lucy promises and y/n chuckles leaning up to press a longer kiss against Lucy's lips, the woman running her tongue over y/n's mouth in the hopes of deepening the kiss.

"No." y/n says as she pulls away, Lucy huffing as her hands move down and squeeze at y/n's ass. "Lucy, go get ready for the second half." y/n laughs.

"But I want to stay here and kiss you." Lucy huffs like a child.

"After." y/n chuckles, leaning up to kiss her girlfriend again before turning, as she does Lucy's hand darts out slapping her butt with a wicked sound. "Lucia!" y/n calls but she is just answered with a laugh as Lucy walks into the locker room.

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y/n posted on her story

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It was the 87th minutes, Barcelona now 6-0 up, Lucy sneaking another assist and a clearance off the line which made the crowd scream her name for the next few minutes.

Vicky was on the edge of the box, sending the ball in as y/n watched Lucy run in, jumping and heading the ball into the bottom right corner as she slid on the ground slightly as she landed.

y/n covered her mouth as she shouted, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her as the fans erupted around her, Lucy's name being screamed amongst the crowd.

The game ended soon after, the songs echoing the stadium as Mapi and y/n moved to the side-lines, waiting for their team to finish signing auto-graphs.

Lucy finished quickly and raced toward y/n, the woman giggling as Lucy swept her up and spun her, the sudden shout of excited fan screams echoing.

"Scored 2 just for you." Lucy told her, putting y/n down and couching. "Up you get." Lucy says.

"Lucy your knee." y/n tries but the huff from her makes y/n aware she will not give up.

y/n sighed and climbed onto Lucy's back, the woman standing back up and gripping the underneath of y/n's thighs as she fixed her onto her back.

"Riding Lucy Bronze, a familiar happening." y/n muttered and Lucy snorted.

"God I can't wait until your knee is better." Lucy states as she walks them over to the team talk.

y/n listened to her manager's congratulations, head resting against Lucy's, pressing occasional kisses to Lucy's hair as the group congratulated her as no doubt player of the match.

The group eventually trudged off, waving one last time to the remaining fans, Lucy eventually let y/n clamber off her back once they arrived at the locker room, all the girls already inside and celebrating.

y/n was sure there would be a small party tonight, and she smiled at Lucy as she planned for her own celebrations beforehand.

"Shower quick." y/n tells her pecking her lips and Lucy raised a brow.

"Why?" She asks.

"Wanna celebrate my girl before we go out." y/n whispers against her lips and Lucy was through the locker room faster than she had been all game.

y/n heard the cheers of the team and smiled, assuming they were cheering for Lucy's work during the game, however as Keira walked out five minutes later with a smirk, y/n assumed she had been wrong.

"Maybe cut those nails." Keira tells her with a smirk, just as Mapi came out and made a claw with her hand, making a hiss as Lucy - now showered exited behind her.

"Someone gets scratchy in bed." Mapi winked at y/n.

"And they're about to get worse. See you guys in three hours." Lucy says, before picking up y/n and rushing off making her laugh.

"Gross." Mapi says wrinkling her nose.

"Try rooming next to them on England camp." Keira says, causing Aitana to snort and fall into Keira laughing as the English woman shivers.

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y/n posted on her story

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END

a little late after Valentines but I tried my best 😔😔

let me know what you think! xx

- Queenie xx

[webdollzz]

hear me OUT. hobie brown mutual marking/branding smut@?11!1?1? pic this:

basically whole premise is reader writing "[names property]" on hobie after they've had sex as a silly wake up prank and taking a pic of herself writing it on him, while unbeknownst her hobie's WIDE awake

So he turns the tables and just fucks her dumb again and writes "[hobies property]" right above her pussy and takes a pic so they're even

sorry this idea is so random i just HAD to get this out my system!!

a/n🌟anon, I love you. here's ur fic + the tallys you added! ur ideas are GORGEOUS. this is quite hobie hand focused ngl...n i kinda don't like this??

warnings!: fem!reader x dom!hobie choking, hair pulling, overstimulation, slight mocking, slight mean hobie but gets soft at the end. use of y/n once                                                 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

his grip on your sweaty body loosened, a sign that he had fallen asleep after sex. he always did — he was out like a light everytime. you didn't mind, you enjoyed the sleepy cuddles. but you weren't that tired this time. you were still led ontop of him, puffing small amounts of air from your lips as your eyes drifted to the sharpie he used to sign autographs, immediately smiling at your little idea. you snatch up the sharpie, gently sliding down his body and writing 'y/n's property' along his hip bone with a cheesy grin.

with the remainder of your smudged lipstick, you kiss right next to the writing for affect. you giggle, grabbing your phone, pushing his boxers band down to make sure the writing was clear. You snap a picture of it, staring at it for a couple seconds before moving your phone away. you let out a yelp of surprise when you see hobie staring right at you, a very unimpressed and unamused look on his face.

"Fuckin' hell! I thought you were asleep." You gasped, your hands on his lower abdomen now as you sat on his lap.

"Yeah, can fuckin' see tha'. The bloody 'ell do y'think you're doin'?" He grumbled, sitting up and gripping your hips, sliding you closer to him, your breath hitching as your panty-clad cunt brushed against his already rehardening cock.

"was jus' having some fun." You shrugged. he rolled his eyes, placing his hand on the back of your head to brace you as he flipped the both of you over, your back now hitting the mattress as he flipped your positions, glaring at you from above. he pulled down your panties once again, making you shiver.

"we just finished." You grunted, your lips parting softly as he ran a finger through your folds, gathering your slick from previous rounds.

"so? should've thought 'bout that before you started tha' shi." He huffed, grabbing your hips and yanking you towards him, placing his head between your thighs. he kissed up them, nibbling softly on occasion, smirking at your impatient whimpers. he dug his fingers into your skin to make you stop squirming.

"hob — quit it." You whined, your legs attempting to close around his head to stop him but he forced them open.

"naw." He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, making you jolt with a moan. he smirks, putting your legs over his shoulder. in no time he started devouring you like you were his very last meal, like you didn't finish fucking approximately half an hour ago. he was insatiable. give him a ten minute break and this man can go another couple rounds. you shudder around him as he eats your cunt like he never will again.

"yeah? you like that, doll?" he murmured against your pussy, making you mewl with a nod.

"mhm! don't stop, please." you begged, your hands finding their way to his wicks, tugging him closer to your cunt. he hummed lowly, sucking on your clit as his free hand that wasn't holding your down snaked between you two, his middle and ring finger prodding at your entrance before sinking in and immediately curling to your sweet spot. you gasp shakily, whining as you tug harder on his hair.

"Hobie! fuck, m'gonna cum." you cried, the overstimulation from earlier on still lingering, making the build up painfully good.

"c'mon ma, cum f'me. you got it." he cooed, pulling away to let his fingers to the rest of the work, leaning down to drink up your cries in a messy kiss you can barely reciprocate. as you gush around his fingers, he didn't slow his movements, prolonging your orgasm until you push his hand away, muttering a "t'much.." he kisses down your neck, humming softly.

"open up, good girl." he grunted, making you suck your own slick off his fingers, your tongue lazily swirling around the digits, making him groan and his cock throb. whilst you sucked on is fingers, his other hand pulled away from your hips to grab the marker. he put it between his teeth to bite the cap off, spitting out onto the bed next to you. you frown, wondering what he was doing, but before you could pull away to ask his slender fingers pushed deeper and made you gag and grab his wrist. he grinned cockily at your gag before leaning down to your inner thigh to draw one simple line. a rally, if you will. he pulled his fingers away from your lips, nodding towards the black line on your thigh.

"think we should keep addin' onto i'?" he rhetorically asked, his answer already being yes. his large hands grabbing your hips, flipping you over with ease and pulling your ass into the air. you yelp, your hands flying back to grab his arm. he tuts, shaking his head.

"c'mon, baby. be a good sport." he mocked with a shit eating grin, pushing your head further into the mattress. "hobie..s'not fair." you whined, but pushed your hips back to grind your ass against his dick anyway.

"aww, it's not fair?" he repeated as he reached down into his joggers to pull out his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up with your entrance. you meet him half way, pushing back until you're buried to the hilt. you both let out a moan, before hobie slid his hand to the middle of your back and pushed down to deepen your arch. his other hand remained on your hip, gripping the flesh there hard enough to bruise.

"go on, then. fuck ya'self on my dick like a good girl." he urged, watching how you rocked your hips back and forth slowly, nearly moaning at the sight of him sliding in and out of you, your slick coating his dick. "oh god, feels s'good, hob." you mewled, nails digging into the sheets so hard they might as well rip them apart.

he hummed knowingly, both hands now holding your hips. he took over, not liking the slow ass pace you set. his thrusts were deep and rough, each one making a small ah! ah! ah! sound spill from your lips and into the fluffy pillow.

"fuck, such a slut fo' me, hm? yeah, you like having your lil' cunt pounded everyday." he said between his teeth. it was hardly a question anymore. you did.

"mhm! mhm! fuck, faster, please." you cried into the pillow, your already pre-smudged mascara wiping off onto the white pillow case. he went faster, one hand sliding up your body and wrapping around your neck. he yanked your body up to meet his chest, still thrusting unforgivingly into you as his veiny hand gripped your neck firmly.

"faster? fo'real? can't ever ge' enough, can ya?" He teased, his breath brushing your ear as he hovered by your neck, just being able to see your fucked out face through the corner of his eye. strained whines and whimpers fell from you, the hand on your neck making your head spin so good.

"I asked ya' a question." He scoffed, slowing his thrusts. you shake your head, your hand flying back to try and make him resume. he loosens his grip on your throat so you can speak.

"no! can't get enough. m'sorry, please. don't stop. don't stop." you panted, voice sounding like you're on the verge of sobbing as your nails dug into him to try and make him continue. he smirked, realising how pathetic he makes you. it was adorable to him, gave him an ego boost the man definitely did not need.

"since ya' begged so nicely, doll." he mumbled, giving you a quick kiss on the side of your head before his hand slid from your neck to your hair, gripping it tightly to force you down again. you moaned, your arms attempting to force yourself upwards but he wiped them out with his free hand before it went to your hip. he resumed pounding into you, the sound of skin meeting skin, your moans and mewls, and his breathy groans filling your small bedroom.

your orgasm was building quickly, his hand tugging at your hair, his tip practically hitting your cervix and bruising it — it was all too much. "h-hob! m'gonn-" you barely got the words out before your orgasm crashed over you, making your entire body tremble and a loud cry fall from your puffy lips. you coated his dick with your release, and he released your hair.

"good girl, tha'sss it. jus' like that." He praised, leaning down to kiss your shoulder as he grabs the pen he tossed aside earlier, marking your inner thigh once more. that makes two tallys. "can ya give me one more, ma?" He whispered, kissing your back and shoulder. you whined breathily, shaking your head a little before he pulled out and flipped you over.

he reached over to your bedside table, tapping your jaw gently as he raises the glass full of water to your lips. "open. take a drink, doll." He whispered softly, his free hand tucking your hair behind your ear. you smiled gently, putting your lips to the glass and letting him raise it slightly so you could take a couple sips of the water, the coldness easing your dry mouth and sore throat. he smiled softly, putting the glass back down on the side table.

"good girl. such a good girl, hm?" He muttered, kissing your lips softly a few times, and it almost made you not notice the way his hands went to grab your thighs. almost.

"he-hey! what're you doin'?" you mumbled, looking up at him with fluttering eyes. "well, you're a good girl, righ'? a good girl can give me one more." he cooed, pushing your legs to your chest, admiring the way your cunt drooled for him. you huffed, but nodded nonetheless.

"mhph. one more." you warned, but your tone failed you as it turned to a whine half way through as his dick prodded at your entrance.

"yeah, just one more, baby." He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your calf before sinking himself into you with a groan from him, a mewl from you. his thrusts were slow but deep, making you feel every inch of him sliding in and out of you.

"oh — oh — oh!" you moaned each time he hit that sweet spot inside you, your nails clawing marks into his back. "tha's it, ma. you got it. jus' relaaaxx." he drawed, kissing your nose softly before looking down to where you're connected.

"look a' her...takin' me so well, pretty." he praised, feeling you clench around him. your moans were breathy, your eyes fluttering closed as you gripped onto him.

"m'so close, m'god." you whined quietly, your back arching slightly. "s'okay, baby. you got it, cum f'me." he whispered, kissing your calf again softly, the coldness of his lip piercing a stark contrast to your hot skin.

you let out a high pitched, long moan as your legs shook against his hold as you came around his dick once more. your orgasm triggered his, making him groan softly as he filled you to the brim, softly pulling out a few moments later and muttering an apology when you wince. he laid your legs softly back onto the bed, kissing your body a few times as he tucked himself back into his boxers.

you were half asleep at this point, all fucked out and tired. he took the pen once more, gently writing 'hobie's property' right above your cunt. he grabbed his phone, snapping a quick picture of his n yours cum spilling out of your used cunt and the markings, grinning to himself. he then tucked his phone away, standing up to go to the bathroom and wet a flannel. he came back, carefully cleaning you up so he didn't disturb you, avoiding the now slightly smudged tally marks and his marking, before tossing the flannel to the side. he put your panties back on, grabbing one of his shirts from your floor and muttering a quiet — "cmon, help me out." as he slid it over your head, your arms going into the sleeve before you went back limp.

he curled up next to you, tucking you into him and kissing your head.

"i love you, sweetheart."

"love you more." you mumbled before falling into a deep sleep.

© WEBDOLLZZ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[notallsandmen]

Your enthusiasm for the 1889 soft dom Hob flogging fic WIP has been noted and duly appreciated ^^ ❤️

[notallsandmen]

wip word search game

Tagged by @issylra ❤️

Words: red, sleep, soft, fall, blanket

Blanket — from The English Vice, Hob’s POV

His stranger is still soaked to the bone, and Hob wonders whether he could manage to sneak up on him and wrap a blanket around the man before he smites Hob.

Red - from The English Vice, Hob’s POV

The patterns of rosy lashes and rows covering his stranger’s pale back are as red as opium poppy fields, Hob thinks, as the hazy softness envelops them both.

Fall — from The English Vice, Dream’s POV

And Hob irreverently praises him for his fall — cruelly beautiful, insolently honest, achingly vulnerable Hob, letting Dream shatter again and again and promising to cherish him no matter what constellations the pieces fall into, promising to treasure even the pieces too fractured to ever be mended. The brief freedom to not have to matter, and to be loved anyway.

Sleep — from chapter 3 of License my roving hands

For the first time, Hob hears Dream’s voice rough with sleep. Hob knows he is blushing furiously, but he doesn’t care, and lets the possessive pride swells up through him. Because he did that — he got Dream to sleep, to rest, to take a moment to himself. That really shouldn’t make Hob achingly hard, but he’s earned his vices.

Soft — from An experiment in Tribology

Dream’s sigh ripples through him, melting away from and melting into Hob’s touches, an unsteady ebb and flow of warm-wet and buttery-soft skin.

New words: touch, skin, light, hands, warm Bonus honkzone classics (if you feel like it): swan-like, gold, tsunami, frantic

- don't want to tag too many people so everyone who wants to do it gets different words!

@beatnikfreakiswriting @chaosheadspace @beholdme @ml-nolan

[griombrioch]

on pride and safewords

Hob had informed him of safewords. Dream remembers being particularly vocal about how primitive he found the concept. Still, agreeing to such an asinine request had been Hob’s only requirement of him, and so he’d done it.

It is perhaps the intensity of his opinions which Dream regrets the most now.

Hob is teasing him, wickedly, all fleeting touches and breathless praises and a honey-dipped tongue. And Dream likes it. He likes when Hob takes on this position for him. He likes their arrangement.

But at some point the teasing becomes not enough. Not enough touch, distressingly little. Where Hob’s fingers do whisper against his skin, his mind filters it away until he can feel nothing at all. Like he is floating away, but he knows not where. Unmoored and lost.

At some point, or perhaps all at once, Dream realizes that he is cold. His skin feels like ice where it is bared. His fingers are numb.

The last time he felt cold had been in the depths of a cellar, locked away in a glass and metal cage. Denied touch and clothes and dignity for over one hundred years.

Hob must be speaking still, but Dream can’t hear his lover anymore, even when he tries to focus. This, too, distresses him. Immensely so. Enough that it forces him to break the habits of his own stone-like pride.

He's cold and freezing and trapped and helpless and he hurts and-

It only takes one word to make it all stop. Dream can’t even hear his own whisper, but Hob must somehow catch the broken syllables because his wrists are immediately held by strong fingers. He is tugged up into strong arms that fold him in tight. A firm kiss is pressed to his temple. His clammy skin is covered with a duvet - a good, heavy one that seems to have been made with the purpose of forcing his mind back into his body.

“Come back to me, love, you’re alright,” he finally hears distantly, murmured soft against his parietal bone. A warm hand pets down his spine - Dream feels as Hob’s fingers catch on each bump of vertebrae. A reminder of the here and the now.

He is in the flat above the New Inn. Hob Gadling’s flat. Hob Gadling who somehow, impossibly, loves him enough to fulfill his needs and yet still ask him to stay for dinner afterwards. Who does not mind his selfishness for affection and instead counters with his own.

Hob Gadling who is not Roderick Burgess. Who has pointedly never practiced magic. Who does not trap people - entities or otherwise - away in basements. Hob Gadling who is so extraordinarily human.

The world falls back into colour. He breathes. It is only now that Dream realizes he is shaking, big, heaving tremors that wrack through his shoulders and down his spine.

“That’s it. You’re okay, honey.”

“I…apologise, I..” he stutters through an explanation, only to discover he doesn’t have one that doesn’t make him feel small and ridiculous and stupid. “I. I thought. I…felt-”

“No, enough of that,” Hob chides and between the two of them it is somehow Dream who feels chastised. Hob smooths his hair away from his forehead, and he sighs out in relief at the gesture. “You did just perfect, Dream. Just like I asked you to do if it got to be too much, yeah?”

Even now, even after he’s disrupted their ritual, Hob’s praise washes over him and spreads like sun-melted butter underneath his skin. It eases away the cold in his bones, in his soul.

“Next time I’ll make sure we're always touching,” Hob says as he leans back and tucks Dream underneath his arm. “That’s what happened, wasn’t it, sweetheart? That’s what bothered you?”

Dream hesitates. Then, still in the pliable calm that Hob is heinously skilled at pulling out of him, nods. It feels like a confession, and he pushes his nose farther against Hob’s shoulder like he wants to climb inside of his skin. It cuts off his breathing, but that is no matter to him.

“That’s an easy fix, love,” Hob squeezes him close, tight enough to ward away any thought of solitude and amateurs named Roderick Burgess.

[linddzz]

32 with Dreamling? 👀

Smut Prompts:

#32: A suffers from pent-up stress and frustration. B offers their body for them to use to get rid of negative emotions.

Edit: Full fic on AO3

Wordcount: 6977 (nice)

Warnings: Canon typical descriptions of violence. Dream being an unhinged little nightmare, but Hob is so down for it. Also, it's a smut prompt. So there is smut. Dicks abound. In typical fashion it took me a while to get to said dicks though. No beta and only the barest editing.

Summary: Service Dom Hob is here to give his bizarre Eldritch boyfriend the tenderest, gentlest domming of his Endles existence. Dream is still going to be a hissing little brat about it. Tbh I waffled a bit on which way to go with this one, but realized that what I really want sometimes is to have Hob scruff Dream like the pissy wet cat that he is and tell him to SHUSH while Dream goes all ragdoll. I also fully embraced a horny headcanon of mine where Dream is more sensitive to physical touch in the Waking.

Shout out to @amahhi, because I picked little bits from our RP here and there for this. What can I say, we got a good Dream and Hob.

Edit 2.0: trying to get the blog unflagged, so the read more has the fic up to the spicy bits. Full fic is in the AO3 link 🙃

-----

It's been a very normal, mundane, and drab sort of day when Hob comes home at the end of it. There's the standard London drizzle tapping away at his window, transforming the world outside into a melting blur of darkening gray shot through with bright smears from electric street lights coming on one by one.

Electric lights. Brilliant. Literally brilliant. They're all going to pay for it in the long run of course, but fuck is it nice to just come home and flick a switch - like so - to light a room up. 

There's a corpse on his sofa. 

The corpse is on its back, arms rigid at its side. Its skin has a drained, cold paleness with veins as gray as the current sky. The face is perfectly still and perfectly expressionless, with flat blue eyes open and unseeing towards the ceiling. The startling ghastliness of the corpse is offset by the soft black t-shirt, along with black pajama bottoms decorated with alarmingly cheerful blue stars.

This is also, increasingly, a normal part of his day.

"All right, love?" He asks, shutting the door behind him. The first time he came home to Dream lying out stiff and apparently lifeless in his flat there had been a bit more yelling and panicking, followed by careful explanations about what the unexpected sight of a pale and unmoving body with open, unseeing eyes showing up in a safe and comfortable space can do to someone who has been through a few wars.

It kept happening, which meant Dream did not actually understand. But now Dream always makes an effort to put his form into pajamas first, possibly with the logic that if he were dressed comfortably for sleep, then he couldn’t possibly look like a corpse. Which meant he was trying, even if severely misguided. It's more touching than it should be.

The corpse on the sofa routine all started when they became...whatever they are now. The best explanation Hob ever got was that a chunk of Dream’s duties involve delving into the vast unconsciousness of himself, sinking into the wild depths that were made of every dreaming mind that created him to make sure everything was flowing smoothly. 

It was all very metaphysical in all the ways that Hob tries not to think about too much. When he compared it to a computer shutting down for maintenance, he got himself a curdled look of such offended disgust that he knew he was on the money. He compared it to sleep instead, which mollified Dream at the time.

In the past this deeper delving into himself was done from the throne room. Then Dream started showing up in Hob's flat every now and again, refusing to explain why. Hob isn't stupid, so he doesn't ask why after the first few times. Whatever the metaphysics of it, Dream wants to come here and lie on Hob's furniture being vulnerable in the Waking world, despite all his grumblings about said world. Dream may not be able to explain the want for a space outside of work to go to, but Hob gets the difference between grading papers at his office and doing it in his living room. The fact that Dream seeks this space out makes Hob's chest go all fluttery and hot, and he will never question it ever.

It's why he doesn't make a fuss about the fact that Dream hasn't figured out that he looks like a fucking horror movie prop when he does it.

“Obviously.” Dream rumbles in answer. His voice has a deep, slow resonance that's being dragged up from the darkest fathoms. It's a growling sneer, the sharp warning crack of a cliff face about to give. It says that asking things like “all right?” is the most low, simple mindedly human thing Hob could ask, because there is no reason Dream would be otherwise.

“That sort of day then? Budge up.” Hob tosses his coat to the chair, which earns him an annoyed huff of a sound, and shoves a space for himself by Dream's hip, which earns him a growl. 

“What. Sort of. Day?” Dream asks darkly. He turns his head, slowly. His movements are always slow when he's coming up from his not-sleep, and Hob is always fascinated by the process. He imagines Dream reeling himself back from wherever he has gone to, a long thread of his consciousness spooling up to refill the shape of his body. The waxy deadness in his skin doesn't exactly liven up, but it becomes more luminous. The stiffness melts from carved stone to…well not relaxed but something with a bit more give to it than stone anyway. The eyes change the most. The empty flatness of them turns into a clear, bright blue. They're flashing with liquid fire when Dream looks up at Hob, even if the rest of him is still an angrily stiff bunch of sharp edges.

“Not a great one, I think.” Hob leans, propping his shoulders on the back of the couch with Dreams waist and arm against the small of his back. Dream turns his head with his jaw clenched, and Hob reaches out, brushing the backs of his curled fingers in the barest caress over the plane of Dreams cheek.

There's a nearly imperceptible tremor in the core of the body he's leaned himself against. The corners of Dreams mouth tightens, and his eyes flare, like that lightest touch has opened a raw nerve. 

“Maybe the sort of day I could help you forget?” Hob murmurs. He hasn't decided exactly what he's offering when he offers it. They could just stay here, watching some meaningless picture while Dream stays pressed between Hob and the sofa, and Hob combs his fingers through that downy soft black hair until all the tension melts from him. Hob could make that milky, sugary lavender infusion Dream is fond of and kiss him slow and sweet for hours. They could have a wild shag or the easiest love making. Whatever will help ease the coiled tension that’s churning just beneath Dream’s carefully still surface. Anything.

The caress continues. Hob traces his fingertips up the edge of Dreams cheekbone and sinks them back into the wild black hair to cradle around that impossible skull. There's a suspicious scraping sound down by his hip.

“That better not be you clawing up my upholstery.” He hums, rubbing his thumb over the hairline at Dreams temple. “Come on love, what do you want?”

“What. I. Want?” 

The stillness breaks. A hand snaps up and clamps around Hob's wrist. Dream surges up, sitting awkwardly with Hob nearly in his lap, his eyes flashing dark and his teeth bared close to Hob's mouth.

“You would offer yourself then? A sacrifice to what you would call a bad day?” Dream asks, his voice dropping into a hard scrape. There's a sharp prick against the skin of Hob's wrist as claws grow from Dreams fingers. “You ask for what I want?”

“Obviously.” Hob repeats Dream’s earlier answer back at him. This is always the most uncertain part, when Dream is in one of these moods. This night could go a million different ways, but Hob finds himself keen for any of them. Any that keep Dream right here with all of his attention, snarling or otherwise, right on Hob that is.

There's a hiss of sound, sharp and explosive. The sharp pricks against Hob's skin turn into bright bursts of hot pain, and he feels the wet slide of blood down the inside of his arm. There's a shudder, and Dream suddenly curls down against him with his forehead ground into the curve of Hob's shoulder at the base of his throat. It's an awkward reach, but Hob brings his far arm around to run his palm up the knobbed curve of Dreams spine.

“It's alright, love.” He whispers. The slump is not a loosening at all. Hob can feel the jerky tension in every line of Dream’s body, and his love feels like a spring winding tighter and tighter.

“No.” Dream spits. “You ask what I want. The things I want. You are foolhardy. Brash. You understand nothing. Ignorant.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, my Dream.” Hob keeps running his hand up and down Dream’s spine, thinking that he really is wound up if those are the best insults he can come up with.

There's a bizarre, inhuman sound. A sharp, jagged, snarling grind. Dream's other hand splays against his ribs, vibrating and sharp. The Endless goes quiet again, and Hob keeps stroking his back, happy to wait for whatever comes next.

“The way you say my name.” Dream whispers. “I want to open your ribs and make you say it. I want to pull each apart, one by one, like the petals of the rarest flower. I want to splay them, pin them. Expose the secret parts of you. I want to see how your lungs fill and shrink when you say my name, when you scream it. I want to see how your heart beats when you dream of me. I want to put my hand around it and feel the precious fluttering of it when I punch my fingers through the chambers. I want to feel it burst like the most wondrous fruit plucked out and crushed in my grasp. I want to feel the pockets of your lungs crackle against my palms when they fill with air. I want you to be screaming my name when I do it.”

His hand moves as he talks. Long fingers drag along the valleys between Hob's ribs, slow and methodical. They're also shaking, a sharp electric buzzing of claws through Hob's button down shirt. 

That sort of night then?

“If you're trying to scare me off, you’ve already done that sort of thing in a few of my more exciting dreams.” Hob points out.

“I want to do it here.” It isn't even a whisper now. It's just an exhale shaped into words. Hob notices that it isn't a threatening snarl, or the low purr of Dream enjoying the build up to a grand old violently nightmarish time. There's a shivery dread. A horror deeper than the obvious goriness of it all.

“You fantasize about killing me?” Hob asks, curious. Ok fine, it wouldn't actually kill him, but it would feel like it.

“You can't die.”

It's an immediate response. Breathless. Rapturous. Terrified. Hob is starting to get the idea of what's going on here.

“Scariest thing you've said to me, that was.” He observes with some interest. It's true, after all. He's just learned that his immortality fuels his love's apparent wish to vivisect him in the plane where they both know it would hurt the worst, where the violence of it would be all of the bloody screaming reality without the cushioned fantasy of the Dreaming. Dream admitted that in a way that was clear that he thinks about it regularly. It is, objectively, a scary thing to learn. There it is. Horrifying and alarming. Huh! How about that.

He doesn’t pretend to be surprised at himself when his cock twitches against his jeans. The only thing he isn’t sure of is if it’s the violent idea itself, or the fact that Dream is very obviously holding himself back from affectionately mauling him right this instant.

He's still petting his hand up and down Dream's spine, and he can feel the way his love bunches in on himself with a cracked whining sound that makes Hob's chest ache like his heart’s already been torn and exposed for the soft tender thing it is. There are talons still scraping anxiously at Hob's ribcage. There are still claws dug into his arm, but with less force than before. Dream is tense, already in a state, and in the fine process of working himself up into what could possibly be a legendary tantrum of self loathing.

“Right.” Hob declares, coming to a decision. “First thing: put a pin in that idea. I have to sit on it a bit and work up to it, but I did just get a little hard there, so it's not entirely off the table. I don't think that's what you want right now though.”

Dream froze with shock halfway through that, and Hob knows the best course of action is to keep moving before that impossible head has enough time to tangle itself up in a new way. The hand on Dream's spine sweeps up and grabs Dream by the nape, hard. 

There is an explosive hiss of incredulous shock when Hob yanks him back. The face that Hob pulls off of his shoulder has wide obsidian eyes and a snarl with a wicked set of fangs. He holds the nightmare scruffed, meeting glittering dark eyes while his heart pounds with what isn't nearly enough actual fear.

“You want me to stop you.” 

Dream’s eyes widen further, the hand on Hob's wrist drops lifeless to the sofa. Hob watches a burst of pink bloom across the unnatural white of his cheeks before the response is wrestled back down. Dream’s eyes narrow, but he's watching Hob closely.

“You are. Incapable. Of stopping me.” He growls. It's not a threat, just reality. Which is how most of Dream’s threats go.

“You're going to let me though, I think.” Hob says. He digs his fingers a little into the hard muscle of the back of Dream's neck, and takes several mental notes on the way the nightmare’s head lolls back and the hand on his ribs goes still. Hob turns where he's sitting to bring one leg up on the sofa, to bring himself closer to the odd monster he loves so dearly. He pulls Dream further, already feeling dizzy at the way the jagged, black eyed nightmare with his luminous white skin and razor teeth goes pliantly until he's leant back, practically being dipped with Hob over him.

“I think you need to let go, love. But you don't like what you might do if you let go.” He says with a smile. “How about we try things my way hm? You let go, but you hand the reins to me. Let me take charge.”

Dreams face goes through some fascinating shifts. He gazes up at Hob with such a raw, wounded want that it looks painful before the expression flinches when Hob's other hand comes up to stroke his cheek again. There's a jerk though Dream's limbs, and Hob is sure the joints are doing things that would make him feel queasy if he looked.

“You…here?” Dream asks, and his voice is thin and sharp and shivery. Hob knows why Dream’s clarifying that, and why here is making Dream writhe and flush with his mouth stretched a little too far on teeth that weren't meant for a human jawline. Hob knows that things feel different for Dream, when he's in the Waking. He's a creature of thought and idea, and touches in the more physical Waking world come across stronger than he's used to, more overwhelming. It’s not that Dream never bottoms, or even that he never submits. But it’s always in Dream’s own realm, where his submission isn’t really submission at all, but a coy play where he acts up the part of a sweet wilting fae lover or a wanton hedonist. He has a harder time staying in control of the situation, when they’re in Hob’s world, where there are less heated fantasies for him to sink himself into.

And the Dreamlord would never admit it, but Hob has noticed the way he keeps showing up in the Waking world to initiate things, even if it's just to cuddle up against Hob and find ways to get petted until he turns into a shivering puddle of nerves. But cuddling here is one thing, this is something else, something new.

“Here.” Hob nods, stroking his thumb slow and firm over Dream's nape, feeling the little vibration that goes down Dream's spine from that point. “I need you to say you want me to though, ok?”

That gets a furious, low hiss of a growl. Dream’s eyes flash and he snaps his mouth full of razor teeth with the sound like a bear trap. Hob lets him squirm and hiss and shudder. He's always such a trembling little thing, like there is too much going on inside for his outer shell to hold in. One day, Hob is going to properly catalog all of the ways his cosmic power of a lover shivers like a leaf when he thinks he's keeping himself all grim and stoic. 

“You. Wish me …complicit.” Dream hisses, the words grinding out from his chest, as there's no way the wide maw of needle teeth is currently capable of speaking that clearly. “You would have me voice it. Admit to it. To be brought low and ragged.”

“I want your consent,” Hob huffs a small laugh, which might not be the best response but God does he love this proud twit, “you pretty, deranged little thing. I'm not doing anything if you don't actually want me to, and we can stop at any point. It's important to me that you get that.”

“My consent,” Dream spits, and this time there's a tearing sound when he does start clawing up Hob's upholstery, “is that I am allowing it.”

On paper, true enough. Dream is thrashing and snarling and gnashing his monstrous teeth with eyes like flaming pits. He's also kept in place by the weak, flesh and blood human hand holding him by the back of the neck. The only reason Hob is able to scruff him and have his head tilted pliantly back to expose the long white throat, is because Dream is letting it happen.

“I think you would allow me to do a lot of things you don't want me to.” Hob says gently. The thrashing stills, the snarling quiets, Dream's teeth finally shrink down into more standard shapes.

“There we are.” Hob breathes, smiling. His chest feels like it may burst, like Dream may end up getting his dark little fantasy after all. It's more than any man could deserve, seeing the way Dream goes quiet and panting, eyes fixed wide and blue again as they stare up at Hob. He keeps the hold on Dreams neck, and smoothes the other hand back through Dreams hair. 

Dream makes a thin, fragile sound, eyes flashing black before returning to their clear blue.

“I need to know you actually want this, darling.” Hob explains again. “Not just that you're allowing it. I can't go thinking that you might just be going along with what you think I want from you.”

There's a shift of movement, more of a little squirm than the furious thrashing from a few seconds ago. Dream clenches his jaw together and stares, eyes glittering with new wetness. Christ. Hob is going to get a complex. It can't be good for his ego, having Dream like this.

“Yes.” Dream finally whispers, swallowing thickly. He even nods with little jerky movements against Hob's grip. “I want…what it is, you are planning. Here. In the Waking. I want you to have me. Your way.”

Hob rewards him with a hard kiss, mostly because if he doesn't get his mouth on those quivering pink lips he might explode. Dream goes lax with a whining sound that is absolutely going to give Hob a complex. Plush lips part immediately under his, as sweet as anything. Then teeth flash against his mouth, still sharp and wild but followed fast by Dream’s tongue lapping hungrily at the bite. There are hands clawing at him again, pawing at his back, twisting in his hair, digging into his hips. Dream is doing some impossible wiggling and Hob realizes that there is more than one pair of legs hitching around his hips and tangling between his own legs. It must look like he's snogging an enthusiastic spider.

“Enough of that.” He chides, pushing a hand on Dream's chest. Teeth sink into his lip again, and there's a low growl when Hob pulls his head back so Dream can't start trying to get his tongue down Hob's throat. Or trying to affectionately bite his lips off. “Shush. Lie back, and settle down dearest. Christ, you're all wound up.”

Another small push does the trick. Dream goes down with a little huff when his back hits the sofa. He’s suddenly as meek as a kitten, if that kitten had blood on its lips and a sharp intrigued glint to its eyes. Rather like a kitten then, actually.

Not that Hob is thinking much about kittens. He's far more focused on the way Dream’s skin has gained a more human flush to it, on the curious little chirrup noise that comes from him. He's looking up at Hob with swollen pink lips and his eyes still blue, but the dark blue of a deep ocean. The shirt he's wearing is stretched at the collar, revealing the tantalizing dip of his clavicles, and his ruffled hair is the most adorable thing Hob could imagine. It's such a flip from the snarling monstrous thing Hob had scruffed less than a minute ago, and all of it is so wonderfully Dream. Objectively terrifying in his violence, objectively sexier than sin.

“You're horrible for my ego.” Hob declares, sitting up kneeling between long legs that are still clad in the damn cartoon star pajamas. Dream answers this with a velvety pleased sound, and Hob feels legs bent around his hips and hitched up his waist and one bends a knee up on his shoulder-

“Ah-ah, stick with two.” Hob taps at one of Dream’s thighs before getting to work unbuttoning his shirt enough to tug it up over his head. “We're in my world right now, so we’re doing things my way. With a human shape. And stop eyeballing my ribcage, thanks. I told you we're putting a pin in that.”

He can hear the displeased hissing sound, and decides to give Dream a pass on that. There are times where words seem to lack the correct expressions for the Prince of Stories, and he has an astounding repertoire of inhuman, and even inorganic, sounds to fall back on. Despite his orders to stop with the rib stuff, there are long hands on his sides as soon as his shirt is tossed away. When he looks down, Dream’s eyes are half lidded and dark, fully fixed with stark hunger on Hob’s exposed torso. 

There's a scrape of claw, smoother than before, and the bright line over his side goes right to his prick. It is…so tempting…to change his mind and tell Dream to have at it. Just to see what would happen, to see how it would feel to get torn apart by something that loves him so much. Except there's a little tense pinching at Dreams mouth, even as his eyes darken further and his hands spread over Hob's ribs to feel them expand with each breath.

“Hands to yourself.” Hob decides for both their sakes. He taps a finger between Dream’s eyes in chastisement, and nearly loses that finger when teeth snap up towards it. Dream is fast, but he's used to getting away with things, so there's only a surprised hitch of sound when Hob grabs under his jaw and shoves his head back.

“My way.” Hob reminds him, surprised at how low and rough his own voice comes out.

FULL FIC ON AO3

[delta-pavonis]

FINISHED: You create me against your lips Chapter 21

banner artwork by the superlative @teejaystumbles

Read on AO3: Chapter 21 my body / writes into your flesh / the poem / you make of me.

Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) || Rated E || In Progress Hellknight!Hob, Hellknight Hob, Alternate Universe, Dream is a little dark (as a treat), D/s, dom/sub, dom!Dream, sub!Hob, BDSM, anal sex, anal fingering, oral sex, deep throating, come swallowing, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, bathing, bath sex, biting, bite kink, painplay, breathplay, impact play, bloodplay, restraint, rimming, face fucking, subspace, breeding kink, discussion of mpreg, aftercare, eldritch Dream, Nightmare, Nightmare/Hob/Dream, spoilers for Seasons of Mists, spoilers for Brief Lives, spoilers for The Song of Orpheus, happy ending (eventually), a totally different take on Hob as a knight, additional warnings in author’s notes for each chapter

Hob cannot help the joyful laugh that rolls out of him as he reaches up to frame Dream’s face in his hands. “Eager, love?” It feels so good to be beneath Dream like this again that Hob is almost dizzy with it, and he offers no resistance when Dream dives in to reacquaint their tongues. "Mmm," Dream smiles a little as he pulls back, "No," he starts kissing along the bearded jawline, enjoying every inch as he makes his way to the spot beneath Hob's ear, to the soft patch of skin that will make Hob shiver so sweetly if he applies his teeth to it. "Eager. Would be. Never. Making it." Each phrase is savored and articulated slowly, separated by a kiss, drawing the sentence out. "To. The bed."

Read on AO3: Chapter 21 my body / writes into your flesh / the poem / you make of me.

[gabessquishytum]

Human AU where Dream and Hob have entered into a casual dom/sub fuckbuddies relationship. And Hob is loving the sex, Dream is a very good dom, but what he really starts to love is the aftercare.

Dream is just so good to him. He always runs him a nice hot bubble bath afterwards and cleans him so gently and thoroughly, or with a nice warm damp towel if he’s too tired for a bath. After particularly long or hard scenes, he’ll give him a full body massage that has him turning into a puddle in the sheets. He makes sure Hob eats afterwards (a nice home cooked meal if possible) and drinks plenty of water. He carefully tends to any injuries and bruises Hob may have gotten. And he’s always ready to hold Hob close and cuddle him after a scene when he just needs physical contact. Hob gets the best nights of sleep of his life in Dream’s bed.

It’s not that any of Hob’s pasts partners were bad at aftercare, it’s just that none of them ever really went beyond what was necessary like Dream. So it’s only natural that Hob would start craving the aftercare as much as the sex, after all it starts feeling more intimate than the sex (and Hob’s too embarrassed to admit but he’s half in love with the guy, and who could blame him?). And maybe Hob starts to want the aftercare even without the sex, but he doesn’t really know how to ask for that since he and Dream don’t really have a relationship outside of the sex.

It comes to a head one day when Hob has just had a really shitty day on top of a bad week and shows up at Dream’s door and asks Dream to take care of him. Dream is surprised but of course he pulls Hob inside (Hob doesn’t realize but Dream loves taking care of him). He makes dinner with some of Hob’s favorites. He draws up a nice bath and they get in together, gently washing Hob with Hob leaning back against his chest the whole time. Then he gets Hob some nice soft pajamas and pulls him into bed where he cuddles him close. Hob falls asleep with his arms wrapped around Dream’s waist.

They don’t really talk about it afterward but it sets a new precedent and they start spending time together outside of sex and of course it’s only a matter of time till they start a real relationship.

Dream being a pro dom and giving the best aftercare is definitely one of my favourite concepts!

He's super into the whole winding down and resting thing. His apartment is just full of things to help him and his sub relax. Nice sensory toys and objects, soft blankets and furnishings. It's super soothing for Hob’s anxious brain. The fact that Dream always feeds him after a session also really makes him feel some type of way. He's never had a drop after Dream has taken care of him, not even once.

And the best thing of all is that Dream seems to enjoy giving aftercare just as much as he enjoys the sex. That's the thing that makes Hob hope that it'll be ok if he shows up at Dream’s place with no warning. He just needs that care and kindness that Dream seems happy to provide.

Of course Dream does love taking care of Hob. He's so honoured that Hob came to him when he was upset! 6 months ago Hob might have sought out a dom to distract him with powerplay and pain, but now he's coming to Dream for comfort. It's the most beautiful thing <3 and of course Dream encourages Hob to come to him any time, and maybe they have breakfast together the next day... no doubt the first of many dates as they start a new chapter together.

[cuubism]

A continuation of this, wherein Hob told Dream about one of his secret 1689-era fantasies and Dream invited him to the Dreaming to make it real. Dom Dream, very nsfw.

--

Hob has been to Dream's palace in the Dreaming a few times before, but never has it felt like this.

Normally, those dreams feel particularly lucid, particularly clear. And he remembers them better than he remembers any others. Now, he still knows he's dreaming, knows where he is, but it has a gauzy feeling to it. The vaulted space, the cold marble floor, the darkness spilling in through the high stained glass windows, it has him dizzy, spinning with vertigo.

Then, Dream's hand low on his bare back. The silk slip of his robe as he wraps his arm around Hob to lead him along. It's all disjointed pieces: the vision of Dream's throne at the far end of the room, Dream's voice in his ear, come along, my Hob, you will be good, won't you? the brush of his lips, his fine fingers trailing up the back of Hob's neck, into his hair, as-- oh, they've reached the throne, gone up the stairs somehow, and Dream folds himself into the seat like he's made of silk himself, pulls Hob down by his hair so Hob kneels on the floor before him.

Dream's thighs frame his shoulders. His robe is thin enough that Hob can just about see his skin through it, can imagine how smooth it would be to the touch. God, Dream is so beautiful.

Hob looks up at him, and Dream takes his face between his hands, stroking his thumbs over Hob's cheeks, a fond and proprietary motion. "You are lovely," he says.

Hob has to bite back a whine. To hear that from Dream... and in the Dreaming, too, where everything Dream says has a ring of truth, where Hob yearns for him so deeply.

“It wounded me to see you in such a state,” Dream continues, voice low and soothing. “I trust you are feeling better now.”

Hob is much the same in this dream as he was in 1689, only he’s bathed, and his hair is clean and tied back, his trousers new and unstained, and he isn’t starving, he’s eaten recently, though he doesn’t remember what. His lord has taken such good care of him, Hob wants for nothing now.

His lord.

The thought rips an involuntary shudder from him. Yes. Dream is his lord. His lord who saved him.

“My Lord Dream,” he murmurs, and Dream’s eyes flash. Pleased. “You have treated me well. I feel much restored.”

“Good. For I have need of you.”

His hand slips back into Hob’s hair, grip firm but kind. For a moment, in the familiarity of Dream’s touch, Hob truly remembers where he is, what year he’s in. It’s like he shifts back and forth: one moment he is then, the next he is now, so they exist overlapping each other, both at once. He is in the dream of that time, he feels it, he believes it, but he never quite forgets that it is, in fact, a dream.

“I must host some unsavory visitors,” his lord says, holding Hob’s head lightly in one hand, untying his robe with the other. “Pay them no mind. Focus only on me.”

It’s not hard for Hob to focus on him. Especially when Dream lets his robe fall open just so, parting only over his thighs so that he is bared to Hob but still covered elsewhere. Properly dressed as a king entertaining petitioners must be. In a sense.

His prick lies soft against his thigh. Hob stares, and wants. Long has he wanted his stranger. His king. His would-be, could-be lover of a future lifetime.

“What would you have from me, my lord?” he asks, voice rough. “I would please you. With whatever I can give.”

“I want your mouth,” Dream says. Each word is distinct, sure, and demanding. “Warm me, soothe me, while I conduct these unfortunate affairs.”

“Please,” Hob breathes. Dream needn’t demand it. Hob wants to. More than anything. He needs to.

“Look at me, Hob,” Dream orders. When Hob tips his head back to meet his gaze, he finds that Dream’s expression is warm. Fond. He pets Hob’s hair. Thumbs at the corner of his mouth. “Open your mouth,” he says, and Hob does, and Dream lays his soft cock on Hob’s tongue.

Hob thinks, distantly, that he doesn’t usually remember tasting anything in dreams, but Dream now tastes as he does when they’re together in the waking world, whatever affectation of humanity he puts on there, sweat and musk and that cold clean taste that always lies on his skin, like nighttime air. He smells that way, too, crisp and alluring, and the very fact that Hob smells anything at all here makes the dream sharpen around him, grounds him with his knees on the marble and Dream’s diaphanous robe brushing his shoulders, the familiar weight of him on his tongue. 

“Good,” Dream praises him. “That’s all you need do. Be still. I will conduct my business.”

Hob can be still. He wants to be still for him, to be an anchor for Dream, and Dream for him. Hob can do this for him, after all his lord has done for him. He lets his eyes fall shut.

Footsteps sound behind him. Hob doesn’t hear whatever doorway Dream must have created open, or hear it close, only that there are now two people—beings—standing behind him in Dream’s throne room. The back of his neck prickles, and he shifts uncomfortably on his knees. He can’t help it, he grew up in dangerous times, he lived most of his life in dangerous times, having someone at his back always puts him a little on edge. Especially someone he knows isn’t a friend. But Dream pets him soothingly. He doesn’t speak, or look at him, just combs Hob’s hair back from his forehead. And Hob knows he has to trust Dream to keep the situation in hand. He’ll be rewarded for his trust.

“Emissaries of Hell,” Dream says, not quite so courteous as a greeting. “I trust the Lightbringer has good reason for requesting this audience.”

The two demons don’t seem to take note of Hob’s presence. Hob’s not sure if they’re used to this sort of thing or if they’re just too afraid of angering Dream to step out of line. He doesn’t seem particularly pleased to see them in the first place.

“Lucifer does not behave frivolously,” growls one of the demons. Dream huffs under his breath at that, loud enough for Hob to hear but not the demons. Some time, Hob wants to hear the story behind that. “We bring an important matter.”

“Convey it, then, that you might leave my realm quickly.”

The demons start talking, but Hob rapidly stops paying attention. At any other time, he’d likely find this all fascinating, but now he’s more focused on Dream, blissed out with the weight of Dream in his mouth. He doesn’t have to pay attention to what’s being said. That’s not his job. He’s here only to pleasure Dream.

He drifts. The stone floor digs into his knees, Dream’s fingers scratch lightly in his hair. Hob’s jaw starts to ache, but he doesn’t move from Dream’s cock. He doesn’t want to let him down, but more than that, it’s pleasant kneeling here, it’s peaceful, serving him, even when it starts to hurt.

He doesn’t know exactly how much time passes, kneeling there and warming Dream’s cock, Dream’s soothing voice rumbling above him, before a pause in the discussion has one of the demons remarking on Hob’s presence for the first time. “You have an obedient pet there, Lord of Dreams. Perhaps you ought to share. In the name of diplomacy.”

Unease shivers up Hob’s spine. He doesn’t want anyone else to touch him. Only Dream.

He almost pulls off to say so, but Dream's grip tightens in his hair in a way that’s anything but casual. “Perilously rude even to suggest it,” he says, voice the smooth crack of obsidian, and Hob can envision the way his eyes flash. “Perhaps you take poor care of your things in Hell, but I do not. Step—” it’s only then that Hob realizes they must have come closer— “back.”

If Dream’s voice is powerful in the Waking world, in the Dreaming it is something else entirely. It vibrates in the air with a power that suggests the very floor itself will throw them back if they do not obey.

In the Dreaming, Dream’s will shapes the world.

His will is the world.

Hob whimpers at the thought.

“Okay, okay,” says the demon, a trill of nerves in his voice. Hob can’t help but feel satisfied at the sound of it. “Don’t— don’t get worked up. Was just a thought is all.”

Dream doesn’t speak aloud, but his voice curls through Hob’s mind like a daydream. Worry not, dear one. I will not let anyone touch you. It settles him. Dream has this all in hand. Of course he does.

“You need not share your thoughts,” Dream says with derision. “In fact, I believe our business is concluded.”

With the quick flash of an opening door, the demons are gone, and they’re alone in the throne room again. Hob is still shivering with the power of Dream in that moment. He loves experiencing Dream in his element, on his throne.

“I grow tired of these games that Hell plays,” Dream says, half to Hob, half to himself. “Something more may have to be done.”

A hint of true irritation creeps into his tone, and Hob curls his tongue over the head of his cock, a soothing reminder that he can take what comfort he wishes. Dream’s grip in his hair softens. He gently pulls Hob back, his cock, just beginning to grow hard, slipping free, a line of spit trailing to Hob’s lips.

Dream frames his face in his hands, massaging the hinge of his jaw where it’s grown sore with his thumbs. Hob finally opens his eyes, meeting Dream’s heated, satisfied gaze. He’s been growing steadily harder as he services Dream, but that look sends arousal rushing through him. Oh, he’d do anything for that look, give anything to make his lord so proud of him. He lets out a low whine, and Dream shushes him, fingertips brushing over Hob’s wet lower lip.

“You have been very good, my pet,” Dream praises. “Very patient, and soothing to me. Tell me. Were you afraid?”

“No,” Hob whispers, throat too tight, too sore for full words. “No. I knew you would protect me. As you have before. My lord.”

Dream looks pleased. “And tell me,” he continues, “what do you dream of now?”

Hob dreams of a bed. Dream’s bed, in his palace chambers. Would his lord deign to have Hob there? To bring him into his private space, lay Hob out on his sheets, soothe his frustrations through Hob’s body, reward Hob for his service? He has brought Hob into his home, given him succor, but would he allow Hob in the space he holds most sacred?

He dreams of silk sheets, comfort so foreign to his current station in life, and Dream fucking him on them, pressing Hob’s body down, hands entwined, his teeth on the back of Hob’s neck. It wouldn’t be hard. Hob had prepared himself in his rooms beforehand; he had wanted to be ready to give his Lord Dream anything he wanted, for his lord takes such good care of him. Dream rescued him, brought him up from destitution, took him home and fed and clothed him, treated and touched him kindly, how could Hob not want to give himself to him, to let Dream have him? He had not known what his lord needed him for this evening but he had made himself wet and open and ready. Just in case. Now they ought to fulfill it. Hob wants to feel Dream inside him.

This is what you dream? Dream’s low voice sounds in his head, all around him. His teeth graze Hob’s ear, his hands are strong where he holds Hob’s down to the sheets, which slip like water under Hob’s body.

“Yes,” Hob whispers.

Very well then.

Dream pushes into him, ripping a gasp from Hob’s throat. He doesn’t linger, he moves quick and hard—Hob stoked his arousal with his mouth and now he will chase it. The power of him rolls over Hob in waves, flashes of feeling in a storm, his lips on Hob’s throat, the force of his hips pushing Hob up the bed, the slick sound of their skin meeting. Dream is all-encompassing in the Dreaming, around Hob and in him, so powerful Hob can do nothing but cave under him. Not that he wants to do differently. The hot length of him inside Hob is bliss, and oh, how he’s selfishly, weakly wanted someone to take over for him these past wretched years. Let his lord decide for him and use him. He takes better care of him than Hob does for himself.

Dream pulls him up onto his knees as his thrusts grow harder, faster. Hob bows his head to the sheets, panting, sweat dripping from his forehead. It’s so good, God it’s so good. He feels hot all over and liable to snap, but he can’t, he doesn’t want to until Dream comes in him first.

“Please,” he begs, and Dream understands him, nails scratching over Hob’s back and digging into his hips as he holds him firm. He thrusts in deep, once, twice, then comes with sharp snap of his rhythm and a rumbling growl in his throat that Hob feels more than hears as warmth floods through him.

Dream pulls out then, and, quick as a snake, turns onto his back and slides between Hob’s spread legs, takes Hob’s cock in his mouth. Hob shouts and comes, mind whiting out with pleasure. Dream sucks on him until he’s dry, past the point where Hob’s squirming from overstimulation, whimpering for how Dream’s mouth is so good but too much.

Dream releases him, and Hob collapses onto his chest, Dream moving up the bed just in time to catch him. Hob mashes his face into Dream’s throat, panting for breath, and Dream makes a low, soothing purring noise that vibrates through Hob’s ribcage. He tangles his fingers into Dream’s hair, holding tight, trying to hang on to the nebulous reality of the Dreaming.

“Very good, my Hob,” Dream praises. “Are you well?”

His voice slides over and around Hob’s body like the silk of his sheets. Hob’s not entirely sure he knows where he is—is he really in the bed of his untouchable stranger, lifted from destitution by those fine hands? No, it’s only Dream—such that there is only Dream—only Dream playing with him. He thinks. Either way he feels good.

“I think we ought take this elsewhere,” Dream says, and Hob realizes belatedly that he never actually responded to him, too caught up in the music of the fantasy. It’s too confusing to open his mouth and do so now, everything is too fractured and dreamlike, he doesn’t know what’s real or not, though he’s struggling to care enough to determine it.

Dream’s sheer robe falls over his shoulders, soft as moths’ wings and heavier than it looks, drawing him under. He slides into warm water, hair floating up around his face, limbs going limp, closing his eyes. Floats, then surfaces again with the release of a held breath. Cool air tickles his skin, water streams down his cheeks, but the water he’s in remains warm, swirling in eddies around his chest, and the arms wrapped around him.

Dream. Pressed up against his back as they sit in the bath. The bath… in Hob’s bathroom. He thinks. Though it’s dark, only a single candle flickering where it sits on the counter, casting rings of warm light over the water—so it’s a bit hard to tell for sure. Besides, he was just dreaming, and now he isn’t. Probably. Gradually his mind starts clarifying the world around him.

“Going to start losing track of what’s dreams and what’s real with you,” he murmurs, and Dream hums, tucking his nose in against Hob’s shoulder.

“The distinction is not so firm as you think.” His voice bounces on the surface of the bathwater like the flickering candlelight. His hand winds through Hob’s hair, tugging lightly. “Nevertheless, I will remind you.”

“Not sure you’ve got the best grasp on it, love.”

Dream nips the side of his neck, an admonishment, then lays his tongue over the spot. Then says, “How are you feeling now?”

“Good.” He leans his head back further against Dream’s shoulder with a sigh that takes all the tension from his body. What little remained after Dream was through with him. “Really good.”

“Mmm. I am pleased, then.”

Pleased. Even here, the thought of Dream being pleased with him is a pleasant one. Light and satisfying. He feels right.

“My lord,” he says, trying the words in the waking and finding he likes the taste. It’s partly a tease, but partly not, and the way Dream’s arms tighten around him suggests the not. “Did I do well?”

“You did very well,” Dream says. “My Hob. You are a great comfort to me.”

“Helped you scare away those nasty demons?”

“Pay them no mind. They are but weak, simpering drones of their master.” He combs Hob’s wet hair back from his forehead tenderly. “But convenient pawns in our game.”

Hob laughs. “You usually use your magical statecraft as a backdrop for sexual role-play?”

“Only sometimes. If it makes for a good story.”

Hob turns to kiss his jaw. Like that, he can just make out Dream’s regal profile, blurred by proximity, and the glint of his eye in its starry, Dreaming darkness. God, but he is the most beautiful thing Hob has ever seen.

“In any case,” Dream continues, leaning into the brush of his lips, “I do find the matter unpleasant. But far more pleasant with you kneeling so patiently between my legs. You were exquisite like that. You took me so well. Perhaps I really should have taken you back to the Dreaming with me, after our meeting that year.”

“I wouldn’t have complained.”

Dream noses at Hob’s ear, breath tickling. Hob reaches up to run his fingers through Dream’s hair, holding him close.

“Each time you take me so well,” Dream rumbles. “Like you were waiting for me.”

“I think I was,” Hob murmurs. The low light and the fall into waking and Dream against him are all very dreamy, he still feels kind of delirious. It feels good. “I think I was waiting for you my whole life. Could’ve had me the day we met if you only stayed a moment longer.”

Hob was his the moment he saw him. His heart was Dream’s. He’d known it then and he still knows it. Hob then was brash and fierce and grasping and wouldn’t have wholly known what that feeling was that made him want to let his stranger push him to his knees. He’d have bucked against Dream’s grip, fought that sublime touch. But in the end, Dream could have done anything he wanted to him. Hob might have choked on it at first, but when Dream kept pushing he’d have swallowed it whole.

“Could I?” says Dream.

He thinks Dream might have enjoyed showing him exactly what he thought of Hob’s attitude. He had the glint of it in his eyes even in their brief encounter.

“Could,” Hob says, caught up in the thought of it. “God, you would have been so firm with me. I’d have pretended to hate it but really I’d have loved it.”

Dream’s hand winds into his hair and tugs lightly. “Yes, I believe you would have enjoyed a firm hand then. And I’d have enjoyed showing you that.”

“Yeah, you would,” Hob teases, and gets a nip to his ear for his trouble, then Dream’s tongue soothing over it in apology.

“Don’t miss any more opportunities,” Hob tells him.

It’s more than just that. Hob would have Dream forgo hesitance and wade into him fully. Capitulate. Give over everything that he wants. Hob gets the sense there is a vast and deep well of wanting he’s only barely taken a mouthful of. How delicious to drink so deeply of it that one almost drowns.

He wants that for Dream, almost-but-not-quite-drowning.

“Mind your words, young mercenary,” Dream warns, teasing, “for it is one of the Endless to whom you speak so insolently.”

“Oh, it would have been that easy to get a name out of you? Just had to nip at your heels for it?”

Dream growls a warning into his throat, but Hob only laughs.

“Still haven’t told me one of your fantasies, you know,” he points out.

Dream’s grip tightens around him. Hob’s mind fills with scattered visions, flashes of thought and moment and feeling. Dream wants. Hob knew he did.

He remembers gazing up at a beautiful lord in a smoky tavern and feeling his heart flip. That damnable smirk on Dream’s face. God, they could have done so much then. Missed opportunities.

Dream’s lips press to his throat, a light graze of teeth over his pulse. “I may have a few ideas,” he says.

[coryothesub]

Sweet Relief

I was in a kinky mood again so I wrote another piss kink drabble, this time it’s peacekeeper Coryo, hope you’ll enjoy!

nsfw / mdni / pk!sub!coryo / district!dom!reader / piss kink

You were walking home from the Hob feeling the amount of beer you had consumed pressing on your bladder. The distance to your shack was just a few minutes, still you somehow felt you weren't able to hold it any longer.

You veered off the road finding a grassy patch that looked like a tiny meadow and looked around. There were some houses in the distance, but all of the windows were dark. At this hour everyone was probably sleeping. No one would notice, right?

Wrong. Private Coriolanus Snow had decided to pay another unannounced visit to your home and he’d been following you pretty closely, using the skills he had learned at the peacekeeper training not to get noticed.

He silently watched you wandering off the road, taking a lazy look around and then squatting down in the grass.

You pulled up your dress and pushed your panties to the side, finally starting to relieve yourself with a happy sigh.

Moonlight shone through the clear stream that soaked up the grass with a soft swooshing. You closed your eyes and your features radiated a peaceful satisfaction finally freeing yourself from the uncomfortable pressure.

Coryo found this view quite salacious. In his mind it only confirmed that district people weren't much above animals, always unable to contain their natural urges no matter the circumstances. Still he couldn't turn his eyes away from the golden stream gushing from your pretty cunt. It felt so mesmerizing that the boy started blushing at the realization of his own arousal. It felt primal and wrong.

“So good,” you muttered to yourself and wiped off the last drops with a fallen leaf before adjusting your panties.

“You know, I could get you fined for public indecency,” you heard Coryo's voice loud and clear right beside you and lost your balance at the surprise falling back on the grass.

“For fucks sake, Coriolanus, don't sneak up on me like that, I thought it was an actual peacekeeper,” you looked up at him sitting at his feet.

“I am an actual peacekeeper!” Coryo looked adorably offended at your remark.

“Okay, okay, Private Snow,” you teased him, still tipsy from the beer you had drank earlier.

“What you were just doing there is not appropriate for a lady,” he tried to maintain a stern tone. “That is if you even aspire to act like a lady at all.”

“Relax, Coryo,” you brushed off his concerns with a careless laughter. 

“I just wanted to pee. Haven't you ever had the need? So strong you can hold it any longer and you just have to do it no matter when and where?”

You gave him a cheeky look and cocked your eyebrow.

“How about now? Don't you think you could use a little relief?”

Coryo's suddenly realized he had been in need to pee ever since he’d left the base. And now that you mentioned it, it seemed to be almost insufferable.

“Well…” he paused. “Maybe I had a bit too much water after the physical training today.”

“Go ahead then. Do it!”

“Y-you mean now?” The boy stuttered, scandalized about the savage nature of your suggestion.

“Mhm,” you nodded, then started casually unbuttoning your dress, revealing your titties. You gave him a needy look and pointed just between your naked breasts.

Coryo's eyes widened realizing what you were doing.

“Wait, you want me to…?”

You winked at him smiling suggestively.

“C’mon baby boy, just let it go. Soak me up…”

Coryo wasn't sure of what he was doing, but it seemed like his hands were operating on their own. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his long handsome cock making you bite your lip at the sight. 

After a short moment of hesitation the boy aimed right between your tits and the first drops of clear white piss trickled from his tip.

You let out an audible gasp when the clear stream hit your naked skin, soaking your breasts and your stomach and streaming further down between your thighs teasing your pussy through the wet fabric of your panties.

“Oh Coryo,” you moaned, feeling your nipples hardening as Coryo’s cooling piss mixed with the crispy night air. Almost unknowingly you brought your hand down between your thighs starting to rub your clit at a frantic pace.

Coryo watched you in awe, his clear blue eyes wide and lips slightly parted at the gorgeous sight before him. He almost couldn't believe getting soaked in his piss could turn you on so much. The boy felt an amazing relief mixed with the undeniable arousal building in his lower abdomen.

You kept rubbing yourself with one hand and playing with your hard nipples with the other enjoying every second up until the last drop of the warm liquid touched your skin.

“Such a good boy for me huh,” you praised him tugging at his pants and pulling him closer just to wrap your hand around his hardening dick.

You started stroking him at a rapid pace watching his pretty face as he was taking in the sight before him.

You sat on the ground marveling at your piss soaked frame, a little drop still hanging from your nipple and shining in the dim moonlight. Your panties were pushed aside as your fingers kept dancing around your swollen clit.

Coryo felt like an utter pervert, still he couldn't help but marvel at your depraved beauty.

You kept pumping him with even more passion, causing a stifled moan to escape his lips. The thought of possibly getting caught terrified him more than anything still he couldn't pull away. He had no choice but to surrender to his own dirty pleasure.

“Fuck, Coryo, I’m so close,” you moaned, rubbing your pussy at an intense pace. You pressed Coryo's tip to your hardened nipple and the boy whimpered softly at the feeling. 

His cock twitched in your hand and after mere seconds he came, covering your breasts and hand in a thick layer of pearly cum.

The warm sensation of his release brought you over the edge and you threw your head back feeling yourself cumming all over your fingers.

“So good for me, darling,” you cooed as Coryo helped you back up on your feet and covered you up with his jacket dreading that someone would see you all soaked up in his piss and cum during the short walk back to your shack.

“I liked it,” he confessed quietly, walking beside you. You chuckled softly, noticing the red blush filling his cheeks.

“I know Coriolanus. You're a little pervert after all.”

[katz-rambles]

Rules + Masterlist

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

Rules:

I do/will write nsfw works!

Minors are allowed to interact with my page and my works, I just ask, not my nsfw works. But I don't control what you read on the internet, I just ask that minors not read those ones. Everything else is okay!

I don't commonly write m/m or male reader in general because I am not a male, but I can attempt (and hopefully do good) on a masc reader!

Anonymous asks are welcomed!

I don't write for character/character, (but I may in terms of gangbangs + threesomes 🤭.)

Please be specific on what gender, character, type, ect!

I will not write anything related to r@pe, 1ncest (this includes st3p-cest), p3d0, non-con drugged s3x, and cheating.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

What I'll write for:

• The sandman

• Ghost (the characters, not the people behind the mask.)

• The vampire diaries

• Arcane (the show)

- I will add more as I get into more fandoms!

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

A little about me:

• I'm a Scorpio.

• I'm currently obsessed with Ghost (again).

• My favorite colour is pink!

• I love annotating and analyzing absolutely anything.

• I'm learning French right now!

• I'm from Canada.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

Masterlist:

• ❤️ = Smut/nsfw

• 🩷 = Fluff

• 💙 = Angst

• 💛 = Crack

• 💜 = Comfort

• 🌸 = Fem reader

• 🪽 = Gn reader

• 💌 = Drabble

• 💟 = Headcannons

• 🎀 = Ficlet

• 💋 = Full fic

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

Morpheus (dream)

Nothing here yet

Desire

Nothing here yet

Lucifer

Nothing here yet

Death

Nothing here yet

Hob galding

Nothing here yet

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

Papa Nihil (young and old)

slow mornings 🩷🪽💌 (old Nihil)

Papa Emeritus I (Primo)

Nothing here yet

Papa Emeritus II (Secondo)

Nothing here yet

Papa Emeritus III (Terzo)

Nothing here yet

Papa Emeritus IV (Copia)

shower sex ❤️🌸💌

parental worries 🩷🌸💌

Dewdrop/Sodo

Baking shenanigans 🩷💛🪽💌

Height troubles 🩷🌸🎀

Cold evenings 🩷🪽💌

Rut headcannons ❤️🌸🪽💟

wet dreams ❤️🌸💌

comfort headcannons 🩷💜🪽💟

if you're sick 🩷🪽💟

comfort after a long day 🩷🌸🎀

Rain

Soft dom and needy Rain ❤️🌸💌

stormy cuddles 🩷🪽🎀

caught you ❤️🌸💋

Rut headcannons ❤️🌸🪽💟

comfort headcannons 🩷💜🪽💟

praise kink ❤️🌸💋

if you're sick 🩷🪽💟

pregnant ghoulette headcannons 🩷🌸💟

you're a mermaid 🩷🪽💟

Phantom

personal problems ❤️🌸💋

Rut headcannons ❤️🌸🪽💟

forbidden romance 🩷🌸💋

if you're sick 🩷🪽💟

pregnant ghoulette headcannons 🩷🌸💟

nb phantom coming out 🩷🪽💌

Mountain

possessive mountain pt 1(?) ❤️🌸💋

Rut headcannons ❤️ 🌸 🪽 💟

comfort headcannons 🩷💜🪽 💟

vampire troubles ❤️🌸💋

if you're sick 🩷 🪽 💟

Swiss

horny Swiss thoughts ❤️🌸💌

plus sized reader ❤️🌸💋

Rut headcannons ❤️ 🌸 🪽 💟

if you're sick 🩷 🪽 💟

you're a mermaid 🩷🪽💟

Cirrus

Rut headcannons ❤️ 🌸 🪽 💟

if you're sick 🩷 🪽 💟

Cumulus

Cumulus' punishment ❤️🪽💌

Rut headcannons ❤️ 🌸 🪽 💟

comfort headcannons 🩷💜🪽 💟

if you're sick 🩷 🪽 💟

you're a mermaid 🩷 🪽 💟

Aurora

Rut headcannons ❤️ 🌸 🪽 💟

if you're sick 🩷 🪽 💟

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

Damon Salvatore

dating headcannons 🩷🪽💟

blood drinking ❤️🪽💌

Stefan Salvatore

Nothing here yet

Elena Gilbert

Nothing here yet

Jeremy Gilbert

Nothing here yet

Jenna Sommers

Nothing here yet

Bonnie Bennett

Nothing here yet

Caroline Forbes

Nothing here yet

Elijah Mikaelson

Nothing here yet

Niklaus Mikaelson

Nothing here yet

Rebekah Mikaelson

Nothing here yet

Kol Mikaelson

Nothing here yet

Finn Mikaelson

Nothing here yet

Alaric Saltzman

Nothing here yet

Katerina Petrova / Kathrine Pierce

Isobel Flemming

Nothing here yet

Nadia Petrova

Nothing here yet

(I'm sorry if I don't have all the characters. I'm only on season five. 😅)

Nothing here yet

Wes Maxfield

Nothing here yet

Aaron Whitmore

Nothing here yet

Lorenzo "Enzo" St. John

Nothing here yet

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

Jinx

s/o with a good singing voice 🩷🪽💟

Violet (Vi)

s/o with a good singing voice 🩷🪽💟

Ekko

post bridge scene comfort 🩷💜🪽💋

s/o with a good singing voice 🩷🪽💟

Vander

sick days 🩷🪽💌

s/o with a good singing voice 🩷🪽💟

pining eachother 🩷🌸💌

pining eachother pt.2 ❤️🌸💋

Grayson

s/o with a good singing voice 🩷🪽💟

Marcus

s/o with a good singing voice 🩷🪽💟

Caitlyn Kiramman

s/o with a good singing voice 🩷🪽💟

Viktor

aphrodisiac sex ❤️🌸💋

lovely nights 🩷💜🪽💌

childhood friends to lovers 🩷🪽💋

s/o with a good singing voice 🩷🪽💟

birthday fluff 🩷🌸💌

Jayce Talis

s/o with a good singing voice 🩷🪽💟

Mel medarda

s/o with a good singing voice 🩷🪽💟

Ambessa Medarda

Nothing here yet

Silco

Nothing here yet

Sevika

Starlight 🩷🌸💋

Finn

married life 🩷🪽💌

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

RK800 / Connor

Nothing here yet

Hank Anderson

Nothing here yet

Gavin Reed

Nothing here yet

AX400 / Kara

Nothing here yet

RK200 / Markus

Nothing here yet

WR400 / North

Nothing here yet

PL600 / Simon

Nothing here yet

TR400 / Luther

Nothing here yet

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

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊