#this was supposed to be fluffy. this was supposed to be a FLUFFY fic. i repeat. FLUFFY

[a1ecmcdowell]

dean winchester x angel!reader — innocence is a virtue.

or, how on earth is he supposed to corrupt you? you? or, dean's newest passenger princess is killing him slowly and violently.

cw, fluff but with sexual elements. mostly fluffy though. reckless driving DO NOTTT do this!! professionals only!! dirty minded!dean. honestly just horny!dean really. innuendos galore.

word count : 2.9k

notes, guys can i be so honest i have not even gotten to the seasons where angels come into spn. this is all based on the lil bits n pieces i know of the future stuff ok. ik i'm a fraud but BE GENTLE IF IT'S OOC OR ANYTHING < /3

req. by anon & in honor of kas's dean & angel fics bc i LOVEEE them

★ ˚⋆

dean, honestly, had never met someone quite like you. when he'd told cas in passing that he was about the most naive, innocent thing he'd ever met, all he did was give him one of those looks he reserved only for dean. he thought, then, that it was just because he was being a bit of a shithead, and cas was telling him without telling him so.

very quickly, he found out how wrong he was about both of his assessments.

the day you came down to earth and graced everyone, literally, with your presence, dean was smitten. never before had he met someone so sweet. so honestly pure. until you, he thought that purity was nothing but an ideology based on impossible feats. a pipe dream and a half for the faithful. no, the reality was that he just hadn't met you yet.

sam was pouring himself into research, too focused to realize that dean was all but whittling away in his starvation, so when he offered to go grab some cheap shit from the diner a few minutes from the motel, all he got in response was a mumble of agreement and a wave of his hand from him.

but you, who'd been sitting on the motel bed, stiff as if you had something stuck up your ass holding you in place, turned to him and asked to come with. that struck dean off kilter immediately, because he hadn't been asked for anything in a long ass while. sam just usually assumed he'd be writing shotgun wherever they went. john — no, he'd never ask his son anything, usually buried that sentiment in harsh demands and orders. cas asked him lots of questions, but permission was not often one of them.

and when he looked at you, read over your features and saw the genuineness in your wide, expectant eyes... god, how could he say no?

so you sat there in the passenger seat. dean had to buckle you in with a joke that flew right over your head — another joke you would not get, even though he was fucking killing it with them right now — about not wanting to send you flying if they got into a wreck.

you proceeded to unbuckle and buckle and unbuckle again a few times, seemingly fascinated with the click of the mechanism. dean wanted to be annoyed. genuinely. if sam had started pulling this shit, dean would have pulled over and drove a few feet ahead as a warning to cut it the fuck out.

but with you, it was adorable in its own right. god, it was! somehow it surprised you, every time it clicked, even if you'd already done it eight times. like, how did anyone expect him to get pissy at you when you were doing those sharp, surprised gasps every few seconds? a few more times and he'd be pulling over to give you something to gasp at, he thought idly.

and then winced, scrunching up his face, when he realized how deep in the gutter his head was. no, he wouldn't touch you. wouldn't even try to plant that idea in your pretty little head.

dean didn't want to corrupt you. if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wanted to keep that pretty little head as clear as his nose was, alright? he wasn't going to be the one to break you into what this world was, its hardships and its cruelties — and its more deviant pleasures.

but fuck, you made it so hard to keep his head straight.

you did this thing, he realized too, on that silent, clicky drive, where you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth when you were in deep thought. thought about what, fuck if he knew, because if you said something to him in the moments that he watched you do it, he'd never know. he was watching your mouth but not to listen.

dean was about to start reprimanding himself in his head, for what must have been the third time already, when you said something, nearly making him slam on the brakes in his surprise.

"how are you doing this?" you asked, as if that wasn't the vaguest question he'd heard in his entire life.

dean blinked a couple of times as he waited for elaboration that never came. he switched hands on the steering wheel, resting his right loosely over the gearstick. "doing..." he trailed off, shaking his head slowly in a gesture to make you keep talking, "what, exactly?"

you did not catch the hint, and he was probably a fool for expecting you to. it took a few more seconds of you staring very intently at his thighs for you to speak up, and by then, he was fucking squirming in his leather seat, trying to not let it get to either of his heads that you were so blatantly staring at his dick.

"this," you answered, twinges of frustration evident in your tone. he couldn't blame you. he was getting frustrated in this car ride, too. "making it move."

christ. he was going to hell. he was going to hell again, this time because of his own drifting thoughts.

"you're gonna have to be a little more clear, dove," he managed through his teeth, voice strained, "'cause i don't think we are on the same train of thought right now."

another blink, and another few seconds pass. your hand shot up in his direction and he flinched, honestly flinched, convinced from the filthy thoughts circling in his head that you were about to grab him by the—

"this," you repeated, and he almost bristled at the attitude, almost told you off about virtues or whatever, when he finally got it. your arm stuck out in gesture to his legs, which pushed the gas pedal and rested against the doorframe, as he drove.

dean closed his eyes briefly, metaphorically swapping his metaphorical wrist for his headspace. he was not, was not, the person that should be introducing you to this world.

dean shifted again, bringing his left leg closer to the leather seat as he readjusted into more of a comfortable position. he hadn't even realized how tense he'd gotten on this short car ride until now. he was as straight backed as you were, and breathing just as slow. "driving?" he asked anyways, like an idiot.

"driving..." you repeated, like the word was as fascinating to you as the process was. "how?"

the diner sign was right there. it was teal and glowed, retro in style, announcing benny's bistro as open.

he drove past it.

dean knew that you did not sign up for a driver's ed course with him with your question, knew even more that he was risking his baby for a pathetic attempt at flirting with someone who did not even know the definition of the word, but to hell with it. you'd asked to come along with him, and therefore placed yourself in his hands for his guidance. the least he could do was make some sort of effort, couldn't he?

"c'mere," he grumbled once he'd pulled baby off into an unassuming back road, parking it dead in the center. you'd need all the open space. he patted his spread thighs a couple of times.

your stupidly pretty pink lips sucked into your stupidly straight teeth. fuck. "why?"

"just—" he cut himself off when he realized he was about to get snippy. you didn't deserve snippy. he was just hungry and horny and you were pretty and he was...

he was pathetic. looking for reasons to get you into his lap. he'd already been to hell, what are they gonna do, drag him back by his ear?

"just do it," dean finished on a sigh, his hand dropping to the front of his leather seat, grabbing the handle and shoving the seat back as far as it could go. there you were, staring at his dick again, making him feel hotter and more bothered.

he felt his heart stop solidly in his chest when you started to climb over the middle console, so oblivious to the faceful of ass he was getting. dean was practically praying to god at that point. he knew he'd been a shit until then, and definitely a sinner by every means, but if he could grant him a little fucking strength—

you plopped your happy little ass right between his muscular, jean-clad thighs. you were warm, was his first thought. he was screwed, was his second.

"what now?" you asked him, that innocent lilt to your voice as you did, and he felt like a dirty little freak for wanting to bend you over the steering wheel moments before ( who was he kidding? for still wanting to bend you over the steering wheel ).

dean took both of your hands and placed them on the steering wheel. once he'd closed your fingers around the wheel, he dropped his hands to your thighs.

"this one," he patted the left one, and nearly went molten behind you, when you lifted that thigh and placed it on his palm. "nuh uh," he tried to lightly correct, "this one you don't use. jus' keep it out of the way." dean's voice was strained in his ears, in his throat.

you slipped your thigh out of his grasp, pressing it up against the inner of his own thigh, your foot tucked around his ankle. you were so trusting and compliant. he was so, so screwed, and so, so awful for thinking about breaking that sweet naivety.

"this one," he said, patting your right thigh, and when you didn't move it this time, he smiled, just a little, to himself. "you use to make it move."

the flush on your cheeks that followed his tease was so damn pretty it took his breath away.

he lifted his leg, not able to reach the pedals with you sat between them and his seat all the way back. he pointed his boot at the left pedal, knowing you were watching each of his movements intently. "that's the stop pedal. push it down to stop." he repeated the process he'd done with your legs, boot pointing at the right pedal as he explained it. "that's the ignition."

pause.

"that's the go," he corrected, sparing you any momentary confusion and any more questions, he hoped. dean could not keep sitting here idle with you between his legs. "makes the car drive. harder you push, faster it goes."

hell, hell, hell. he wasn't going to hell, because he was already in it, strung up and burning.

"i'll handle the gears," he added quickly, when he caught your head turning downward to the shift stick. "don't wanna overwhelm that pretty little head of yours, dove, with too much at once."

dean rested his right hand on the gear stick, his left hand gripping the handle on the driver's door for dear life. he needed the support; you were driving him up a wall with his claws out, and you were about to be driving him. driving his baby. it took a lot of coaxing from sam for dean to let sam behind the wheel. all you did was ask how do you make it move? and he was letting you drive.

you. who did not even know what a car was. who was learning how to drive literally that moment.

god help him. he'd prayed more in this fifteen minute drive than he had in years.

you pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car revved all pretty and loud. dean watched with bated breath as the response to your efforts registered in your head, the way your eyes lit up in that curious glimmer, the fucking teeth biting on your lip.

once you let up, he pushed on the gear stick's release, and tugged it down from park to drive. the car slowly began to move down the dirt path.

you slammed the brakes so hard that his head knocked into the back of your shoulders. "fuck, dove, gentle."

and you were, when you shifted your foot over to the gas pedal again. you pushed it down on it tentatively, the car starting to glide down the dirt road, the sound of pebbles grinding beneath the tires.

"better," he mumbled in your ear, leant forward to keep his eyes on the windshield. it's not that he didn't trust you, he just... yeah, he didn't trust you. "just like that, dove."

the praise, though, goes in one ear and out the other, because the gentle ease of baby's tires along the road is interrupted by you slamming the gas. the tires squeal. clouds of dirt and dust puff out from behind the car as it takes off.

dean's heart went from in his ass to in his throat in a manner of a second. "whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, a nervous laughter bubbling out of his throat. "slower, slower, will ya? crashin' in the middle of nowhere is the last—"

you hit the brakes again, still hard but less this time. just enough to send his head knocking into your shoulder again as the car slowed.

slowed, but still headed toward the ditch. "right, see your hands?" he asked, chin nuzzling into the plush spot between your neck and your shoulder so he could see better. "twist 'em. nice n' gentle for me, to your left, yeah, good girl. makes the whole car move, yeah? jus' keep it on the dirt, not off "

you follow his instructions, and dean feels a swell of pride at this. maybe he should have gone into driver's ed or some shit. he was a good ass teacher.

"like this?" you asked, drawing him out of his self glazing. your voice, soft and hesitant, breathless with your excitement, has his chest heaving.

"yeah, dove, jus' like that," he rasped, his left hand moving from the doorframe to rest where your thigh met your hips. the car kept its slow pace down the long dirt road, and for the first time since you'd gotten your hands on the wheel, his heart doesn't feel like it's pounding in his throat. "no, no, don't stop. keep goin', you're doing so good for me."

his phone starts to buzz in his pocket, and like that, his self indulgent driver's ed lesson comes to a screeching halt. "you jus' keep on going like this, alright?" he asked you, patting your hip with his hand before he reluctantly let go.

he definitely answered the phone with more attitude than necessary. couldn't help it. he was having a great time. "what, sam?"

"everything alright?" sam asked, and then dean felt like a prickhead for giving him shit at all. "s'been thirty minutes."

dean sighed, his eyes lifting again to look out the front windshield. a stop sign was quickly approaching, and you didn't even need his guidance for that. you were slowing to a stop all on your own. he was so fucking proud, it was sick. "all good. long line at the burger place."

it was dead empty, four miles back.

"we'll be back in a few, alright? chew on one of your books or somethin' while you wait, make 'em useful."

"dean—"

he hung up before he could hear sam's sighed response.

his hand fell to your waist again, squeezing lightly to stop you from lifting your foot off of the brake just yet. "play time's over. calvary's callin' us back."

dean pushed the gear stick into park again before he moved both of his hands to your hips, helping guide you back into the passenger seat.

he adjusted the seat again, his hands finding their typical place on the wheel. he did a very illegal u-turn at the four-way intersection and headed back down the road that you'd driven him down.

"have fun?" he asked after a beat, eyes flicking over to see you. you looked so pretty in the orange glow of the sunset, your face lit up in deep gold.

you turned to meet his eyes, and he had to look away quickly, the bright glimmer of adrenaline in them knocking all the wind out of him. "yes."

"good." dean meant it. there were so few things he'd risk everything for, but that toothy smile of yours jumped to the top of that list.

"dean?" your voice rung out again, earning him another glance your way in acknowledgement. "what part of the car was in my back the whole time?"

dean faltered, eyes blinking in a bout of surprise and lips parting, searching for a response he did not have. his eyes dropped down to his lap for a second, dread and embarrassment pooling like ice water in his stomach at what he hoped wasn't— yeah. yeah, it was.

"i dunno, dove," he mumbled through his teeth, staring straight ahead, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, doing basically anything to not meet that curious look of yours. especially knowing you'd have your lip in your teeth all over again. "might have t'take it to the shop, while we're in town... get it checked out or somethin'..."

he was so damn screwed.

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4nicholas @deanswidow @deansbite

[lostinlads]

Fluffy Treatment

Synopsis: Leaving for a month to travel around the world had been a breath of fresh air, but returning to your family's home is where your heart resided. Your first day back had been hectic, a grand meal with all of your parent's wealthy friends would be held to honor your return. But as you are getting ready, your family's cat butler, Zayne, has come to your side to help you. The mutual missing and longing couldn't be denied as it flowed between the both of you. He would obey his master.

Tags: zayne x femme!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, smut, catboy!zayne, footjob, footplay, p in v, unprotected sex, master/servant play, secret relationship, aphrodisiac (catnip), no use of y/n

Words: 4.4k

an: Here is my fic of zayne's latest catboy card! this isnt completely accurate to the card just taking some inspiration from it, but i hope you enjoy either way!

ao3 | Yes, Cat Caretaker mini series | kofi

One month has come and gone - traveling the world, visiting friends, partying through the night. It honestly felt like a never-ending dream, but this morning when your driver pulled up to your family's estate, you couldn't help but feel relieved. 

One face has been plaguing your thoughts. Well, let's admit it, it's been more than just a face. 

Memories of his hands running over your naked flesh, his hot mouth on yours to silence your moans, soft ears and a bushy tail that drew goosebumps across your skin. You craved him. Dashing hazel eyes that looked at you like you were the finest meal he has ever seen, wanting to feast on you.

Those same eyes that stared at you now through the mirror in your bedroom as you tried on your dinner gown. Not hiding any shame as they sweep over every single blessed inch of your jaw dropping body. 

You stare back, eyes drawing over his wide shoulders, his broad chest, the thick arms that are pulled behind his back. 

The tension in the air between you both is almost electric, one spark could send the entire room ablaze. 

Your fingers twitch at your side, wanting to turn around and reach towards him. Pull him to you just so you can feel him under your fingertips again. Something so forbidden between the both of you yet so sweet and delicious, addictive. You had no intentions of sleeping with your family's cat butler, but the way he falls apart under your touch, breath hitching as he whimpers your name. How could you control yourself?

"How do I look?" You ask, not turning but meeting his eyes in the mirror. They flick up, pouring his heart out in them. The corners of his mouth lift, barely but just enough for you to notice.

"Breath taking as always, my lady." Heart racing in your chest, but you know he can hear it, his sensitive ears flicking to the beat like a drum. Smoothing your hands over your dress, you give yourself one final onceover, making sure every hair is put in place, your dress falling where it's supposed to and hugging what it needs to. 

Satisfied, you turn, letting your eyes run up Zayne's tall figure. He stands there unmoving as always, forced to remain stoic, to not give in. Maybe that's what drew you to him, wanting to break down his reserve and find the man deep within, or maybe it was that he is undeniably attractive. Sharp jaw matching his sharp eyes, large, sure hands, legs that go on for days. Something so magnetic drawing you to him.

"I got you something, you know." A smile playing on your painted lips, because who could honestly forget their favorite cat butler in a month without bringing him a gift in return. He cocks an eyebrow towards you.

"Oh?" Lips pulling up in that barely there smile again. "No need to come baring gifts, my lady. Just being graced by your presence once more is a gift in itself." The flush that coated your cheeks were more than enough, feelings showing without speaking words. You smile up at him, grabbing the small box from the bed and placing it in his hands. 

"It's an 'I missed you' present," Words so quiet, almost as if you were scared of getting caught. Zayne looks at you for a moment, pausing as he feels the weight in his hands, eyes searching yours. 

Slowly, Zayne pulls the lid off and sets it on your bed. You watch as his hazel eyes dilate, nostrils flaring at the scent of catnip. Taking the box from his hands, you hold the cat wand, the bell jingling softly as you move. His eyes darkening, zeroing in on it as you toss the box onto your bed. 

Though he is every bit man, he was still part feline, crumbling and growing hungry over the intoxicating scent of the drug. He doesn't indulge often in treats or toys, but something cracked in his composure every time catnip swirled in his senses. 

His ears twitch as you shake the wand, trying so hard to keep his eyes locked on yours but ultimately failing as you draw the wand up. A ragged breath releases from his lungs almost as if he was holding it. You move, reaching your arm higher towards his head and shake it again. His body shifts, zoned in on the movement and the scent of the toy. Playing like this had always been so pleasuring to you, watching as he fights off his instincts and tries to remain loyal to his orders. 

You move again, walking back, drawing him to you as you shake the toy in front of your own face. His eyes fighting to stay locked on yours but ultimately failing as he snaps them back. His large, glove clad hand reaches out, just barely missing the wand as you pull it away, higher in the air out of his reach. He straightens at once, looming over you with his massive height, brows pinched together tight in disbelief. You got him right where you wanted him, clouded his mind and drew him to you. Tossing the now useless toy to the side you straighten your back, sizing him up. 

Zayne walks towards you, eyes dark and jaw set. Footsteps so sure and precise. Times like these he looked almost intimidating, not being able to help it as you took a few steps back. 

Suddenly you trip, unstrapped heel slipping off of your stocking covered foot. You look down, the shoe laying helpless between the both of you. Sighing you walk to the wide armchair lining the wall, a few steps behind you. Crossing your legs and propping your head in your palm. Zayne walks to you, eyes softening and ears drooping to a more relaxed position.

"Do you know what this cat likes most?" He sighs out, voice hushed. 

"Catnip? Or a cat wand?" Though you knew where he was going, you wanted to play this game, this push and pull you both ended up in. His chuckle is breathy, ears twitching in delight as he looks away for just a moment. 

"Neither," Leaning forward hands caging you in, a smile playing on his lips. "He likes his owner more than anything else." Thick bushy tail swaying lazily behind him, face so close to yours you can feel the heat of his breath as it washes over your face. 

"You made my shoe come off," Eyes drawing down at the discarded shoe, ignoring his advances. 

Obeying, he kneels down, picking up your far too expensive heel, inspecting it as he holds it in his hands. You take the opportunity to reach forward, attempting to grasp his velvet like ears. But he is too fast, twitching them just out of reach, his eyes playful as he catches you in the act.

"Looks like someone hasn't forgotten about touching his ears," The low rumble of his words make your stomach flip. The slow swishes of his tail taunting you from behind him. "A cat won't fulfill all your requests." 

"Really?" You lean forward again, pinching the base of his ear softly before rubbing soothing circles in it. A sharp hiss through his teeth at the contact, making you drop your hand back down to your side. His comes up, caressing the spot, eyes soft and sad.

"It hurts..." Zayne's ears had always been sensitive, the slightest touch always drawing a quiet gasp from him. 

You look down, expectantly as you eye your shoeless foot.

"Help me put on this shoe," Lifting your leg, toes pointed towards his hand as you wait.

"All right." His large hand coming to clasp around the back of your ankle, lifting your foot up as he bends slightly. Lips placing a firm kiss through your stockings, goose bumps rising, drawing out a dull pulse between your legs. "At your service, my lady."

His fingers delicately dance up your arched sole, towards your heel before curling back around your ankle once more, catching your breath in your throat. Cheeks on fire as you watch him with such an intensity, sliding the toe of the shoe over yours, fixing the strap securely on your ankle with a smile playing on his lips. His long fingers dancing along your clothed skin. He looks up at you, a pink blush dusting over his cheeks as he lets out a chuckle. 

"Your hands..." Zayne looks down at them, letting your foot fall back to the floor. Brows drawing back together in the smallest movement. "They still smell like catnip." 

"They do?" You ask in a teasing tone, reaching your index finger forward. Running it along his bottom lip, his hand grasps yours, mouth falling open as he gasps out. Zayne pulls your hand closer, finger resting just between his lips. 

Then you feel his teeth, a small nip to your skin. Not enough to cause blood but just enough for you to let out a shocked gasp, stomach flipping in delight. You pull your hand back a few inches, making him look up at you. Hazel eyes consumed in nothing but lust from the aphrodisiac and the scent of you. Pink blush dusting over his nose. 

"Ow! You know, a good cat butler doesn't bite its owner," You scold with a scoff, eyes flicking to the side for just a moment. But then a rough, wet tongue laps at your skin. The hot stripe of saliva tingles on your skin as you stare at him, trying your hardest to not squeeze your slick thighs together, to not give in and let him know just how bad you need him inside of you.

"This is how I express my affection," Zayne says matter-of-factly, his barely there smile making a return as his tail shows his emotions behind him. 

You pull your hand from his grasp, lunging forward as you take his face in your hands. His ears quickly airplane in shock at your movements.

"Then let me express my affection," You command, shaking his head lightly to the side. "You like that?" 

A breathy moan slips from his lips as you caress his cheeks, his eyes slowly blinking in affection at you. The undeniable smile tugging at your lips as you watch him indulge, letting you warm his skin with yours finally. A deep rumbling purr emanating from his chest as he basks in your touch.

"Besides affection," Pausing, your hand still, cupping his cheek with one as the other ghosts down towards his chin. "I'm curious, do cats feel possessive towards their owners?" Voice dropping an octave, slow and sultry as you lean in and lift his chin, watching his eyes widen. 

Your cat butler smiles, wrapping his fingers around the wrist that cupped his face, clothed thumb brushing over your silky flesh. 

"Of course," Voice so sweet, a million emotions dancing behind it as he speaks. "Just like this..." He nuzzles into your awaiting hand before continuing, a heavy breath drawing in his lungs. "What this gesture means is - this is mine." Eyes meeting yours at the word 'mine'; possessive and claiming. His thick tail swishing behind faster. Zayne places a kiss to your open palm before he nuzzles back into it, the purr becoming so strong it vibrates in your hand. 

"Mmm," You hum, a smirk on your lips as you shake your head. "Kitty, I think you're confused, you're all mine." Words forming a purr as you lean in, faces so close you could smell his scent. Another slow, loving blink of his eyes, his tail coming around to brush up your calf.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this," The raw emotion in his eyes almost makes you pull back, his smile falling. 

You wished you could tell him you loved him, throw all the back and forth aside, throw aside how forbidden it would be to expose your relationship with your family's butler. But him melting into your touch, telling you how he missed your skin on his with those fucking bone melting eyes. Just pour your heart to him, leave everything behind for him.

But that wasn't possible. So, you stone your emotions, forcing a smirk on your lips.

"Why don't you show me?" Thumb brushing just under his eyes as you push him, trying to get him to indulge, take as much as he wants from you.

Zayne's fingers curl around your ankle, pulling your foot forward towards him as he lets out a hot pant of breath. As he grinds against you, his hard erection presses onto your shin. You feel him shutter from the contact, his eyes rolling closed as he presses his face more into your palm, open lips on your skin, feeling every exhale.

Slipping your foot out of your unbuckled shoe, you pull back, hand falling from his face as your back presses against the chair. His eyes flutter open, the slightest pout at the loss of contact from both your hand and shin. But he remains still, refusing to reach out and pull you back to him, diving in for friction. Through his black slacks, you can make out the tent growing at his groin. 

"Already so worked up..." You tsk, shaking your head from side to side, clicking your tongue. "What will we do about that, hm?" Cocking your head to the side, you cross your legs, shoeless foot over the other, tapping it up and down teasing him.

"Please... my lady," He reaches up, fingers drifting up, dusting over your heel, down your arch and latching around your clothed toes. His empty hand clenches at his side, refusing to touch himself as he begs you for any sort of relief. 

With a sigh you uncross your legs, bringing your foot to his chest with his fingers still attached. The shaky, uneven breath could be felt through his suit as you run your foot down his chest and stomach towards the place he needed you the most. Ears sloping as they relax under the building pleasure inside of him.

Finally, you press your foot to his groin, feeling his lengthy erection under your hot skin. He sighs, shifting his hips just slightly enough to get the smallest friction. The smile that spread on your lips couldn't be helped, the mingling emotions of his pleasure and the excited anticipation bubbling inside of you. The month had been too long, the nights too expansive, and Zayne too far away. But here he is, already falling apart, breaking down his walls for you just over a touch. Drool worthy cock so hard, so ready for you. You shift your foot, dragging it down to his base, watching the shudder run under his shoulders. The length mapping itself out under your toes, but far too many layers separated it for your liking. 

"Strip," You command, voice nothing higher than a breath. In an instant, he shrugs his coat off, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt before that too has been discarded. He rises to his knees, thumbing the button of his slacks open, unzipping, then pulling them down along with his boxers. But you stop him there, raising your heeled foot up, right in front of his erect cock. "Fuck it," Eyes locked on his, your chest rising and falling as you wait for him to obey. 

The slick between your thighs growing as you drink him in, deep pink tip inches away from your foot, in need of release. Veins wrapping around his massive length, your mind already drifting to how they feel, every single inch of him a delicious pleasure that you needed inside of you.

Zayne shifts to the side, hands holding your heel still as he slips the tip of his cock between your clothed foot and your shoe. The groan that graces your ears has you gripping your hands at your side is enough to get your mind reeling, trying to control your urges of pushing him down and fucking yourself on him, losing all sense of control and just give in. 

"Feels so good," He groans out through is teeth as he sinks himself to the hilt, pausing there as he catches his breath. His member hot against your arched sole, blood pumping through his veins. 

After a moment, his hips shift, pulling back before thrusting forward, fucking your foot. The friction of his cock through your stockings sent tingles up your spine, shifting in your seat as the uncomfortable thrumming of arousal pooled between your thighs. Watching himself fuck his cock in your shoe, the way his mouth hung open as his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath. You never wanted it to end, not being able to get enough after being deprived for so long. 

Zayne's fingers tighten as you flex your toes, tightening your arch, making the small opening even smaller. He groans out, brows pinching as his pace picks up, cock head disappearing and reappearing as he continues. After you're done, you'd have to toss your stockings away, the wetness growing on them from his leaking cock head soiling them, unable to wear them. But the thought of walking into the dining hall, stockings stained with his precum, a claim of him, made your stomach flip. You flex your toes again, drawing a hungry moan from him as you watch the beads of sweat form at his brows. Eyes trailing down his bare chest, down his flexing stomach, and landing on his freshly shaved groin. You wanted to reach out, run your nails down his skin and watch his muscles seize as he fights back his orgasm.

"Fuck," He swears under his breath, hips moving faster, bumping into the side of your foot, stockings already soaked as his cock easily slides between. You could see how painfully erect he was, feel it. Tip flushed with the rush of blood, aching to release, cock twitching after every few thrusts. 

"You like fucking my feet?" Cooing, his eyes snap to yours, a smile playing on your lips. Your fingers brushing the hair from his damp forehead.

"Love it," Your butler breathes out, hips never stilling, but growing sloppy, the rhythm stalling every once in a while. "Love it, my lady." He repeats with a grunt, hips jerking with a harsh thrust. 

You could tell how close he was, the jerky movements, the rising and falling of his chest in jagged breaths, his hazel eyes cloudy and glossy in a haze. If you didn't stop him, he'd cum all over your foot, leaving nothing left for you. Just that thought alone was more than enough for you to stop him, gripping his strong, muscular arm to still his movements. His ears shifted to the side, confusion and frustration, eyes slowly dragging to your reddened face. 

"Go lay on the bed," Voice sounding distant, you command him. With a swish of his tail he obliges, slowly pulling his aching cock from your shoe and pushing himself up to stand. Shucking the rest of his clothes off, he walks towards your bed - your eyes never leaving his naked frame, raking in every inch. From his tight, toned ass, his fluffy tail that swayed with every footstep, to his muscular back and his wide shoulders. Every single aspect of this man made your core ache for him, like he was made just to pleasure you. 

Not wasting time, you rise to your feet, discarding your lone shoe and pad over to him. Zayne sat on the edge of your massive bed, large thigs spread, red, angry cock resting against his stomach as he allowed himself to be used. You slot yourself between his thighs, hands resting on his shoulders as you feel the heat of his body radiate around you. His hands cup the back of your knees, you can feel how clammy they were through the thin, skintight fabric. Hands pushing you to him, lifting your legs to climb onto his bare lap, hovering just over his wet cock. His face leaning in, lips hovering over yours, teasing.

"Let me please you, mistress," Breath washing over you, filling your lungs as you inhale him. Before you know it, his hands reach up, fingers curling around your tights. The rip of them sounded so overwhelmingly loud in your silent room, almost echoing off the walls. The moan that slipped from your lips wasn't intentional, eyes rolling back as your muscles almost giving out from just the action alone. You could hear his chuckle through the cloud of arousal in your mind, almost taunting at how quickly you fall while he's in control.

That wakes you up, snapping out of the fog. You push him back onto the mattress, a woosh of breath leaving his lungs as he falls, eyes widening and ears standing to attention. Not wasting any time, you reach between your bodies and push your panties to the side, guiding his cock inside of your soaked cunt. He fills you slowly, pushing through your walls, knocking your head back as you try to control yourself from being too loud. Your family was here after all, floating around the house, getting last minute preparations finished for your welcome home party. But somehow that only turned you on even more, fucking your cat butler while you should be getting dressed, ruining your clothes just so he could cum inside of you again.

Zayne's hands grip your hips, desperate for more. Once you take him completely, he hisses through his teeth, thick thighs tensing beneath your body, willing himself not to release yet. You wouldn't last long either, one entire month without his cock inside of you made your stamina nonexistent, just him alone inside of you now, you could feel the familiar tight coil binding on itself in your core. As you both catch your breath, your small hand runs up his chest, so smooth under your touch, freshly shaved how you told him you liked it. You fought back a smile, not giving into your emotions, not yet. Instead, you keep going higher, hand resting at the base of his throat, feeling the groan he lets out as you tighten your fingers slightly, feeling the jump of his cock at the movement. A rumbling purr in his chest, vibrations so strong you can feel them jitter up your arm.

He couldn't hold back any longer, tightening his hands around your hips, bucking his hard cock deep inside of you. Throwing your head back you cry out, eyes wide as you can feel him brush against that mind numbing spot inside of you, his head kissing it with every movement. He thrusts again, a low growl as he grinds his teeth together, your body jumping with his hips. He is relentless, pounding himself in your pussy at a desperate attempt to chase both of your highs, them building together in an almost perfect sync. Drawing the most beautiful noises from your lips, sending his predator instincts into a frenzy, feeding on them as he fights for more. 

"Oh!" You cry, falling to his chest, burying your face into his damp neck, his cock hitting impossibly deeper into your quivering cunt. You could taste it, your orgasm looming over you as you try to meet his now sloppy thrusts.

"'M close-" He hisses out, hands repositioning onto your ass, fingers sinking into the fatty flesh. He pushes you down, meeting his thrusts as the lewd wet slapping of your bodies bounce around the room. Anyone standing in the hall would be able to hear, but you couldn't give less of a care right now, the way he fucks himself inside of you dumbing your brain and making you drool. His tail brushing against your foot as it swipes up your leg, curling around you in need to touch you. Your hand grips his chest, nails sinking in as your mouth falls open into an O, orgasm on the tip of your tongue.

"Zayne-" You try to choke out, a whimper cutting your words of as your eyes roll back. "Coming!" Is all you manage before the hot heat runs over your body, curling your toes and burying your face into his neck as you cry out. The gush of wetness between the both of you only intensifying the noises your bodies made as his last few thrusts fuck himself inside of you. Then you feel the first hot rope, a deep groan ripping from his throat as his cock leaks into you. You feel how it pulsates, the throbbing only making the last lick of your orgasm even more intense, legs shaking just from his feeling alone. Zayne's strong arms wrap around you, holding you both still as he empties completely inside of you. 

The both of you lay like that, breath heavy as you can feel his load seeping out of your abused hole, cock softening inside. His arms stay locked around you, not wanting to let you go just yet, or maybe ever again now that he finally has you back. But right now, you don't mind, listening to his rapid beating heart, feeling his damp skin on yours, the scent of him surrounding you. 

"I love you," Your ears almost don't catch those three little words. Said so lightly it could've been a blowing breeze through the room. But his unmistakable voice is what blessed your ears. Body growing hot, his confession slipping out. You don't move, shock settling in your bones. "I know it's inappropriate, I understand if you want me to leave, my lady. But I couldn't-" You cut him off, pushing yourself from his chest, both of your arms holding you up, caging him in. 

The smile on your lips seemed to relax him, eyes softening, ears relaxing - even his tail lightly thumped against the bed. 

"I love you," You whisper, watching the flush bloom on his face, lips falling open in a gasp. You were finally able to admit it, after months of sneaking around and shoving your emotions deep down your throat, they felt so easy as they flowed from your mouth. 

His sudden movement shocked you, a shriek squealing from your lips as he lifts you and flips you onto your back. He hovers over you with a lazy smile, one only ever reserved for these secret moments with you. Without stopping himself, he leans in and kisses you, lips molding together like puzzle pieces, your heart pounding in your chest but your skin growing warm. 

Cupping his face, you give in. Allowing yourself to bask in his love while he was here with you. Never wanting it to end.

[sunflowerseob]

Let Me Love You | Kim Jongseob

Everything changed between you and your best friend after a freak Halloween candy mishap. Now you're left wondering if you should run from that change or run with it.

🩵 Pairing: bestfriend!kimjongseob (candycurse!kimjongseob) x reader

🩵 Word Count: 3.5k

🩵 Genre: Smut, pwp, fluff, minor angst, besties to lovers

🩵 Rating: 18+

🩵 Warnings: Making out, explicit language, it gets angsty briefly sorry 🥹, Seob is so soft and sweet in this ughhhh 🫠, grinding, marking, biting, groping, lots of teasing, explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, scratching, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum eating, soft but chaotic ending as always 🤩

A/N: Was hoping to finish this in time for Seob's bday but it ended up being a little late 🥹 This was supposed to be a drabble for Candy Curse but my severe yapitis just turned it into a follow up fic instead 😂 Thank you so much to everyone who read and supported Candy Curse, you're all so sweet and lovely and I appreciate you so much 🥺🩵 Hope you enjoy this if you decide to give it a read 🥰

Masterlist

When you’d invited Jongseob over to your place to hang out, you’d really had every intention of doing just that. But ever since your little Halloween candy incident a few weeks ago, “hanging out” always ended up leading to hot and heavy make out sessions with your best friend either on top of or underneath you. And today definitely hadn’t been an exception.

Jongseob was beaming when he pulled back from your mouth, his pretty pink lips wet and swollen. You brushed back his bangs that had started to fall over his eyes, a giggle escaping you, “What are you smiling at?”

“I just really like kissing you,” he said, his cheeks flushing adorably, “like a lot.”

Your heart noticeably stuttered in your chest. The two of you still had yet to talk about where exactly this was going. You’d been a little too busy fooling around at every given opportunity, and further complicating your friendship.

If you were being honest, you could really feel yourself starting to fall for him more and more every time you were together. And it scared the absolute shit out of you. Especially because you really weren’t sure where Jongseob was at with all of this. You were too afraid of ruining what you had by risking bringing up how you were feeling. So for now you just allowed yourself to indulge in this time with him.

“Well, the feeling is definitely mutual.”

Your favorite little crooked tooth poked out as he grinned down at you. Your hand settled on the back of his neck before pulling him back down to your lips. Jongseob grunted against your mouth, hands harshly gripping your waist. He shifted on top of you slightly, his erection brushing against your thigh and making you gasp softly. You would never get over how hard he got just from kissing you like this, and the fact that you were able to have that effect on him. You also always got wet embarrassingly fast, so he clearly had the same kind of power over you.

“Shit.” Jongseob hissed as soon as his fingers slipped inside your panties, discovering the evidence for himself.

His digits swept through your folds before teasingly circling your clit, and you whined underneath him.

“You’re always so wet, fuck, it’s so hot.” he groaned, burying his face in your neck and mouthing along the skin there.

“Seob, please.” you begged breathlessly as your hips instinctively followed the movement of his fingers.

His head suddenly shot up, and his dark eyes were hazy with desire as he looked down at you, “Let me eat you out.”

You blinked back at him in surprise, your face heating at his request.

“W-What?”

“Please. Been dying to feel you come on my tongue. Can’t get your taste out of my head, ever since that first time.” he went on, his wet muscle swiping over his lips as he talked, making you shiver below him.

Just the thought of his cute little fluffy head between your legs had you going out of your mind with want, but it also felt terrifyingly intimate. Maybe too intimate. Like if you let him do this, then you would be a goner for sure. You were already on the verge of being down bad beyond repair…

 It really didn't help matters that you also had never actually come from oral alone before either. Mainly because you were usually too up in your head to focus on the pleasure. Making Jongseob feel bad about not being able to get you there was the last thing you wanted. Fuck, why did you have to make everything so complicated with him.

“Seob, you really don’t have to. It’s okay.” you tried assuring him, but it just seemed to confuse him as he pouted back at you.

“Baby, I want to, really.” 

God the pet name. He really was going to be the death of you. Jongseob seemed to suddenly notice the emotions warring inside you because his hand stopped its movements between your legs, moving to rest on your thigh instead. 

“Y/N, talk to me. What's going on?” he asked gently as his thumb smoothed comforting circles over your skin.

Your face felt like it was on fire, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him.

“Seob, listen, I, um, I've never… God, this is so embarrassing!” you cried, your hands coming up to cover your face.

It was silent for several moments. You peeked up at him through your fingers and saw that he was still trying to work out the meaning behind your words. His concentrated expression was so damn cute that it made your chest hurt. His eyes suddenly widened in understanding, and his cheeks mirrored your own with how deeply they flushed.

“Oh.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, “I know, I’m a total freak.”

Jongseob chuckled before reaching for you to pull you to sit up with him. You were the older of the two of you, but right now it felt like the opposite as he took your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You're not a freak. Well, I mean, you're still you, so you are.” he teased, earning a glare from you, “But not for that. Can I ask, do you just not like it?”

He was being so sweet and trying so hard to comfort you, and it was kind of killing you.

“It's not that I don't like it…” you trailed off, your voice quiet.

Jongseob looked at you with all the patience in the world as he waited for you to go on.

“I guess it's just, fuck, like I'm usually too busy overthinking to be able to enjoy it. So I've never been able to get there.” you finished, wishing you could crawl out of your skin.

Jongseob appeared to be contemplating how to respond, and you honestly couldn't blame him.

“Too busy overthinking? Yeah, that does sound like you.” the man sitting in front of you quipped, and you immediately swatted his arm in retaliation.

He squealed as he dodged your next attack attempt before breaking into a fit of giggles. You couldn't help but laugh along with him. This dynamic was just so familiar and comfortable. 

“Seriously though Y/N, I don't think you're weird for feeling that way. Maybe it truly just isn't for you, or maybe you just haven't found the right partner yet. Either way, you're still entitled to feeling how you feel.”

You'd obviously been seeing him differently lately, but just when had he grown up so much? And when had he become so caring and sweet and infuriatingly attractive. Ugh. 

Plus him saying partner had your heart pounding violently against your rib cage. You were so incredibly fucked. It was about time you just started accepting it. You had feelings for your best friend, and rather than going away over time, they were only getting stronger.

“Hey, Seob?” you spoke up, hoping you’d be able to get the words out before you lost your nerve.

“Hmm?” 

He was giving you his full attention, curiosity sparking across his features. You pushed down your building nausea as the words spilled out of you, “I think I want to date.”

His eyes went wide, and his mouth opened and closed several times. 

“W-Wait. You mean like m-me? You want to d-date me?” he eventually stuttered out.

“O-Only if you want to date me.” you replied equally as eloquently. 

Jongseob was getting redder by the second, and you couldn't help but think that you’d just made a huge mistake. He groaned before letting his head fall back, and panic started to spread throughout your entire body.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed loudly.

You immediately tried to backpedal as fast as possible.

“Seob, hey, it's okay. Just forget I said anything okay? I don't know what I was thinking.” you rambled, nervous laughter escaping you. 

His head snapped back up, and now he was the one looking panicked.

“God, no, wait, that's not, that's not it at all. Shit, I’m so bad at this.” he said, raking a frustrated hand through his dual toned hair, “Y/N, listen. I was planning on asking you out. But I wanted to be way cooler and way more collected than I am right now when I did it. I just was having a hard time working up the courage in case you said no, and yeah, hah, you just kinda beat me to it I guess.”

You felt so fond as you took in the man in front of you, letting his words sink in fully. A dumb grin broke out across your face before you could stop it.

“Okay, now what are you smiling at?” he queried in confusion, echoing your earlier question back to you. 

You gently placed a hand on his cheek before leaning in to kiss him, Jongseob sighing against your lips. When you pulled back, he was noticeably calmer, but still seemed mildly confused.

“I just can't believe I’ve been cursed to have a crush on a loser trapped in a hot man’s body.”

Your best friend frowned at you, and you giggled at how adorable he was.

“Choosing to ignore the loser comment and focusing on the fact that you think I’m hot and have a crush on me.” Jongseob remarked, flashing you a cocky smirk.

You laughed and shook your head, arms winding around his neck, “It’s okay, Seobie. You’re still a hot loser, but you’re my hot loser.”

“Hey!” he cried defensively, but you were quickly shutting him up by reconnecting your mouths once again.

As soon as your tongue pushed past his lips, he was immediately using his body to frantically pin you back down against the sheets. The bulge in his pants brushed right against your covered core, and you gasped into the kiss. Jongseob repeated the movement, moaning into your mouth when your hips rose up to meet him.

Your hands were shaking slightly as they went to pull up his loose white tank, and Jongseob broke away momentarily to slip the garment over his head. Every time he bared himself to you like this, all you could think about was how pretty he was. He had the most beautiful collar bones, and they had kind of become somewhat of an obsession of yours. The spots of color you’d left on him last time still had yet to fade from his skin. You must have been ogling for a little too long because you heard Jongseob chuckle, and it pulled you out of your trance.

“Careful Y/N, your marking kink is showing.”

“As if you don’t love seeing where I’ve been.” you taunted back, making a show of slowly unzipping your hoodie.

His eyes darkened at the sight of your exposed breasts. You went on teasing him as you trailed your fingers over your hardening nipples as well as the various marks littering your own chest.

“I know I sure love seeing all your little reminders later.”

“Fuck. Baby, please.” he practically whimpered, and you felt drunk on this power you had over him.

“Please what, Seobie?” you asked sweetly.

“Please, will you let me try? I promise I’ll stop immediately if you don’t like it. I just, I wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

He sounded so desperate and so whiny, and it had you clenching around nothing. You found that you were curious if Jongseob would be able to change your mind about the act. Plus, when he was asking so nicely, you felt like there wasn’t much, if anything, that you would refuse him on. You sighed in defeat, even though internally you were tingling with excitement.

“Okay, Seob, you win.”

His face lit up and he smiled proudly, crooked canine jutting from his bottom lip. You playfully rolled your eyes, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

He saluted you, and you couldn’t help but start giggling. Your hot loser indeed.

His weight settled back over you before he leaned down to kiss you. You groaned softly as you felt his hands greedily grabbing at your tits, and Jongseob took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He didn’t linger for long though, his lips sliding over your jaw, down your neck, and across your chest. He gave kitten licks to one of your nipples while his hands traveled lower to begin tugging down your leggings and underwear. You sat up so that you could help pull them down your legs before laying back against the sheets, now completely bare.

Jongseob’s eyes blew out slightly as they roamed over your figure, and you noticed his cock straining against his jeans. You looped a finger through one of his belt loops, “Need these off. Now.”

“You know, if we’re gonna date, we’re really gonna have to talk about how you sexualize me all the time.” Jongseob whined as he stood up beside the bed.

“Shut up and strip, Seob.” you retorted, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

He tried to keep up the act, pouting at you while he shimmied out of his jeans, but you still managed to catch his shy little smile. He still had his blue boxers on, and you were about to say something to give him shit about it. But then all thoughts left your head at the feeling of his tongue running a line up your stomach, one of his hands roughly palming at your breast. You squirmed as he placed loving kisses all over your tummy and hips. Jongseob’s free hand dipped between your thighs to cup your dripping cunt, and your back arched at the sensation.

“Fuck. I can’t believe I can do this to you. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over it.” he said in awe.

He used both hands to grip your thighs and open yourself up to him, and your legs began to tremble in anticipation. Jongseob’s lips gently brushed your inner thigh, “Relax, baby. Just let me take care of you.”

It was really hard to relax when his mouth was sucking fresh marks into your skin, his tongue soothing the sore flesh immediately after.

“Seob.” you gasped out, shutting your eyes as you tried to brace yourself.

“Hey,” Jongseob piped up, giving a soft tap to one of your thighs, “look at me for a second.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you did your best to focus on him. His two toned hair was a fluffy mess, threatening to fall over his eyes again, and tickling the inside of your thighs. He looked up at you with so much affection that it actually felt like your heart might burst, and your favorite tooth was sticking out in the way you had come to love.

“Remember, if it doesn’t feel good, tell me and I’ll stop, okay? We can stop whenever you want, I mean it.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Jongseob pressed one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before finally putting his mouth on you. You hissed as he licked at your slick folds, one of your hands instinctively tangling in his hair while the other clutched at the pillow under your head. The man between your legs moaned into your cunt as his tongue pushed inside you.

“Seob, fuck, oh my god!” you cried out, nails scratching against his scalp.

Jongseob briefly surfaced and you groaned at the sight of his shiny lips.

“That was a good oh my god right?”

“Yes. Please, Seobie, don’t stop.” you pleaded, guiding his head back down.

He dove in much more confidently this time, using his hold on your thighs to spread your legs wider and give him even better access. The way his tongue hungrily fucked into you had you writhing and panting on the bed. And every time his nose bumped against your clit, it sent a little jolt through you.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” Jongseob murmured, and your face instantly flushed at the newest pet name, “Shit. Even better than I remember.”

You whimpered, your hips bucking against his face and making him grunt as he continued devouring you. This was the first time this had ever felt good, and the sensation was overwhelmingly intense. A scream tore from your throat as soon as you felt Jongseob’s lips close around your swollen clit.

“Holy shit…wait…is that…still good?”

“Oh my god, Jongseob, if you don’t keep going and make me come, I’m actually going to kill you.” you threatened, but it came out as more of a needy whine than anything else.

“Fuck, okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

His tongue flicked over your bud in quick strokes, and you were in disbelief that he was really going to get you there. Your moans mixed together until you couldn’t even tell who they belonged to anymore.

“So close, Seob, fuck.”

“Look at me, princess.” he requested suddenly, and you clenched at how low and rough his voice sounded.

You knew it would be your undoing, but you glanced down anyway. And sure enough, you nearly came on the spot. 

You barely even recognized Jongseob, looking so fucked out with his face covered in your arousal and something truly wild glinting in his dark eyes. He held your gaze as he sucked your clit back into his mouth, and you tugged harshly at his wavy strands. You did your best to keep watching him until you couldn't anymore, throwing your head back against the pillow and sobbing his name as you fell apart.

Jongseob refused to let up, lapping at your release like he was in some kind of drunken trance. 

“S-Seob…t-too much…” you said weakly, but your words didn't seem to register to him at all.

His face stayed buried in your cunt, all his little groans and whimpers vibrating through you. Before you knew it, you were coming again, your body falling slack against the sheets soon after.

“Oh my god, baby. Fuck, Y/N.” Jongseob half babbled half moaned before finally letting his head drop to rest on top of your thigh.

You affectionately ran your fingers through his hair because that was all you had the energy for at the moment, and Jongseob hummed in content.

“I bet you're gonna try to say that was just the candy, huh?” 

God, he was such a little shit. And you were down horrendous for him.

You laughed in disbelief, “Actually, you brat, I was going to say that you’ve officially changed my mind about being eaten out. But you know what, maybe you're right. Maybe it was just the candy.” 

“Whateverrrr. Just admit I just gave you the best head of your life, you freak.” he shot back, lightly biting your thigh in reproach. 

You were too spent to keep arguing with him, and honestly he wasn't wrong. But you would never tell him that. So instead, you just ruffled the hell out of his hair until he got so annoyed that he ducked out of your reach. 

“Ah shit.” he said under his breath once he was sitting up again. 

You glanced at him, feeling confused, but then oh. All of his attention had been on making you feel good, and he had completely neglected himself.

“Aw, Seobie, come here” you called gently, reaching out for him, “let me take care of you.”

He blushed furiously and turned away from you.

“No, it's uh, it's okay. I’m fine, really.” he mumbled, sounding almost embarrassed.

You slowly sat up, but he stayed facing away from you.

“Baby, let me help, please. You made me feel so good, I wanna return the favor.”

Jongseob peeked over his shoulder at you, his cheeks still tinted pink.

“Seob, what is it?” you queried as you scooted closer to him.

“Ugh, fuuuuck. This really isn't going to help my loser image.” he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

You chuckled, resting your chin on his shoulder, “What isn't?”

Jongseob let out the world's longest sigh before gesturing at the lower half of his body. Your eyes went wide as you took in the giant wet spot staining the front of his boxers. Then you noticed the trail of cum dripping down his leg. Fuck.

“Wait, Seob, you really came just from that?” you asked incredulously.

“Can we please not talk about it?” he whined, his hands trying to cover up the evidence.

“Why?” you pressed, nipping at his shoulder, “I think it's fucking hot.”

Jongseob frowned back at you.

“Please don't lie just to make me feel better.”

“I'm not lying.” you insisted as you reached down to trail a finger up his leg.

Jongseob stared at you dumbfounded as you gathered his cum on your finger before sliding the digit into your mouth to lick it clean.

“You're fucking insane.”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, “What can I say? I think it's sexy when a guy creams his pants.”

The man next to you visibly cringed, and you giggled like a maniac.

“You really are a freak.”

“Yeah, but I'm your freak.” 

“Yeah. And I'm your hot loser.”

“Correction. You're my hot loser boyfriend.” 

Jongseob beamed at that, his crooked tooth poking out adorably, and his face flushing once more. 

“Yeah, I am.” 

[fatuismooches]

Now I realized we're always comforting the segments since the time of their life is depressing, but we never comfort Prime himself. The one who experienced everything. Reading the Zeta fic honestly broke me, I just want to go up to Prime and hug him and pamper him and everything.

The segments are from one point in Dottore's life. One phase. They don't usually stray from the personality or actions they've had during that time. Perhaps that's why you found it easier to comfort them, as they never left that state, and you could read them better. But Prime, he is a culmination of all of them, he is them and yet he is not at the same time. He has a bit of all of them ingrained in him and yet he's not the same as them.

The more you get to know about the segments, the more you indirectly get to know about Prime as well. On the very rare occasions you get to see the segments being vulnerable, your heart aches not only for them but for Prime as well. At least the segments now have you for comfort and reassurance, but who did Dottore have back then? He had no one, only faced with the reality of your sleeping body daily. When the realization hits you, it just hurts you... really bad. Prime never shows any weakness - he's always cunning. Intimidating. Manipulative. Around you he was confident. Teasing. Bold. One could never guess how he felt all those years ago. You could have never guessed, and you know him better than anyone.

You don't even know how to bring up the topic, you imagine that even if you try he'll brush it off and change the subject. That was simply the man he was - he'd never admit to such things, at least not without a lot of nudging, (and you meant a lot.) Instead, you settle with making sure that he knows you're here now, and that you're always going to be with him. You randomly hug him throughout the day (even if he does get a bit annoyed at times.) Nuzzling your cheek on the top of his head, into the soft fluff of his hair, arms gently but firmly wrapped around him as he questions your sudden presence, shuffling through paperwork, but you remain silent as your grip tightens.

You don't even care if the position is uncomfortable, you just hold him and hope to transfer your feelings to Dottore somehow. You don't care how weak you are, if you can do something to make him less stressed you'll do it. Cooking his favorites to pampering him in the bath (the lazy way he lays on you while you wash his hair, it's almost as if he's going to crush you) to even organizing his office just the way he likes it without him knowing. You mumble sweet things into his ear while he gives you that look at the almost nauseating cheesiness, you kiss his scars and rub your hands over his calloused areas.

You don't care about anything. You just want to provide some comfort to him. It's the least you can do, after everything you've caused in the last few centuries.

[scurvgirl]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Throw it away."

"Mick-

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

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

__

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

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

"Do you want to talk about it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck, what?"

"I didn't throw the pic away."

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

"Good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

__

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Keep it with the picture."

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

[datshitrandom]

Favorite Fanfics (109/?): Leaps and Dives by @annepi-blog | illustrated by @esilher

[skyyguy]

Last Line/WIP Thursday

Tagged by @onyxsboxes @wayrad and @thegrandpineapple It's from the current winter fic I'm working on and I'm so mad at this fic okay

“You need a damn muzzle,” Gale huffed back, but he knew John could hear the silent plea in his voice, feel it in the way he pressed back against his fingers, the groan that vibrated through his spine, pressed against John’s chest. “And you called me the dog,” John growled, ignoring the snide remark to comment on the way Gale's cunt flexed around his fingers, pulling him in, eager and soaked. He nipped along the ridges of Gale’s spine, sliding his legs down the bed till he could sink his teeth into the plushness of Gale’s ass. Gale yelped at the pain that shot through him from John’s unusually sharp canines, his cunt squeezing around John’s fingers, a groan passing his lips before he could stop it. “Shut up and fuck me, John,” Gale ordered, voice rough and feral, and John hummed as he lavished his tongue over the bite mark, pumping his fingers, scissoring them to help stretch an already-well-fucked stretched Gale out.

Tagging @swifty-fox @sleepr-agent420 @air-exec

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday🎄

tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

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

prev snippet

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

[beanghostprincess]

"Jealousy and other pathetic feelings"

(Zolu/Sanuso fanfic)

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

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

[citrine-elephant]

hey who wants dilf leon tied up and squirming again

[headfullof-ideas]

took a break to stop screaming at the ONE PART of the chapter I’m working on (which is the VERY last scene and a half of the entire thing, btw, which makes it all the more frustrating that words refuse to come) to do some doodles that I told myself to wait to do until i finished the chapter. And by doodles i mean out of context storyboard scenes. I have a few different sets to post

Most of these are actually from the next few chapters in a row, or the chapter i’m working on, save for two. I will not say which two. That’s the whole point of ‘out of context’

[dacialogansuperfan]

hi hello here's a megarod drabble

rated g

rodimus yanks open the door to his favourite supply-closet-turned-hiding-spot and promptly falls face first into chest armour like a brick wall. the door is swiftly tugged shut again, a broad servo brushing against his lower back for an astrosecond before fingers close around the handle and pull, plunging the small space into near darkness. their optics, fixed on each other, provide just enough light for rodimus to make out the slight downward curve to megatron’s mouth. not a frown, more of a wince.

“so,” rodimus starts, leaning back against the door to put what distance he can between them. a frame as large as megatron’s, built for hard labour and cobbled together half from spare parts, runs hotter than the average mech. so does rodimus, for obvious and significantly cooler reasons, and the two of them stuffed into a space that can charitably be called tailgate-sized are beginning to throw off uncomfortable levels of heat, even for him. “come here often?”

megatron sighs. just that small movement of his chest, a quick breath in and released, knocks their plating together, megatron’s armour scraping lightly against his cheek. it already feels a little hot to the touch. when he speaks, rodimus can feel that too, the soft rumble of it passing through him, almost shaking the tips of his helm. 

“no,” and somehow, there’s no reproach in that tone. just a faint, lingering amusement that could be about the existence of rodimus’ secret hiding place, in general, or their present situation, specifically. “but i’m guessing you do.”

rodimus grins. for once, megatron doesn’t have a leg to stand on, vis-à-vis being the more competent captain, if he’s been holed up in the secret hideout longer than rodimus has. which he has. right now, at least, rodimus is totally kicking his aft at being professional, and captainly, and pretty much everything else regarding heading up the lost light, if only because he hasn’t spent the majority of his duty shift in a closet.

never mind that he was planning to spend the rest of his shift in said closet. still is, tentatively, provided megatron’s bizarrely good – as good as it gets with megatron, which pretty much means he’s not actively annoyed at something –  mood lasts, and he doesn’t decide to haul the both of them back to the bridge.

speaking of –

“why are you in here, anyway?” this close, he has to crane his neck to get a good look at megatron’s face, and even then, he’s mostly staring at scuffed chest armour, swooping engravings to either side of an autobot symbol mostly obscured in the dark, and the curve of megatron’s lip plates. he watches them curl into a slight grimace, deepened by the shadows thrown from rodimus’ own optics.

“i’m avoiding minimus.” straight to the point, with only the tiniest bit of shame. rodimus is starting to feel a weird kind of deja vu, but for an experience he’s only ever been on the other side of. it’s both deeply strange, and a little thrilling stepping into megatron’s role, seeing that chastised look in his optics. rodimus takes a step forward, forcing megatron to take one back to keep their plating from colliding.

megatron looks down at him, still wearing that almost-frown, but with a tilt to his helm that suggests confusion, rather than anger. rodimus just smiles at him, brings one hand up to rest over the patterns on his chest.

“i thought you two got along?” at rodimus’ questioning look, one massive shoulder shrugs, scraping against the side of the closet with a muffled shriek. megatron winces, optics shuttering against the noise, and tries to shift his weight away from the wall. he only succeeds in knocking over a cluster of mops leaned against the other side of the supply closet, and his optics stay closed throughout the ensuing clatter that creates. rodimus muffles a laugh into the crook of his free arm, the one not resting against megatron’s heated plating.

when megatron’s optics finally flicker back on, rodimus pokes him in the chest. “so?”

megatron sighs, jostling rodimus’ servo. “you’re right, we usually get along… surprisingly.” that last word softer than the rest, like it wasn’t entirely intentional. rodimus gets that. megatron liking any of them, them liking megatron, was possibly the most surprising thing to happen on this ship – and that was a difficult, if dubious honor to earn. it wasn’t bad, just – hard to wrap a processor around. the relationship between all the autobots on this ship and their co-captain was still tentative, delicate.

rodimus is not entirely sure he’s including himself in that, though.

something else thunks heavily to the floor as megatron brings his arms up behind him to rest, at a somewhat awkward angle, on a low shelf. they’re doing sort of a terrible job at hiding, if that’s what this is. his mouth is a wry smile when he says, “he loses me at alphabetizing.”

rodimus laughs again, a quick burst that is mostly muffled into megatron’s chest. he seems to be doing that often in megatron’s presence, since the universe jump. it’s another one of those tentative, delicate things that he mostly avoids thinking about.

the light of their optics, blue and red overlapping each other in the diminishing space between their faces as rodimus leans up to do something stupid, if only because he hasn’t in a while and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to not think about those delicate things in this tight, hot space with megatron smiling at him like they’re sharing a secret. it reminds him of those flimsy little glasses he’d once picked up on earth, red and blue, held up to his optic and watched the world split into two. this feels sort of like that, between one blink and the next megatron’s smile disappears and is replaced with that same, oddly charming looking of confusion from earlier. rodimus is practically on the tips on his pedes, his arms coming up to wrap around megatron’s neck. holding him in place, or holding himself up.

likely a bit of both.

“well, since we’re here, and we’ve got time to kill,” he says by way of explanation, before brushing his lip plates against megatron’s. quickly, before he can lose his nerve.  

megatron makes a small sound of surprise against his mouth, the soft derma cracked in a half-dozen places of gentle friction against his own, but doesn’t push him away. instead, two rough, large hands come up to rest at his waist, grip paradoxically light. he shivers anyway, pushes himself more firmly against megatron, who finally starts kissing him back.   

rodimus’ back hits the door behind him with a dull thump. he feels himself being pushed, gently, back to the ground, until megatron is bent over him, above and all around him, rodimus’ pedes planted firmly on the floor.

it’s nice. really nice. rodimus can feel the beginnings of charge building lazily between them, the temperature in the already muggy closet climbing by degrees, but for now just this is enough.

when they finally pull away from each other, rodimus slaps a hand to megatron’s mouth.

“we can talk about it later,” and yeah, maybe he makes a face at that, but he does mean it. “okay?”

the look on megatron’s face, what’s visible of it, is almost comically relieved. rodimus snorts, keeping his hand over megatron’s mouth until he gets an eager nod. for a guy who made a name for himself by talking, he avoids the personal kind with an efficiency bordering on pathological. rung might have something to say about it, at least, but rodimus is all for it.

they have time, to deal with whatever this is properly. for now, megatron’s lips over his, warm and yielding, moments after he pulls his hand away – like he can’t wait – is good enough.

[adventureofthedancinggirl]

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

(T, 13K, Complete)

Summary:

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

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

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

[virgo-dream]

✨ dreamling / fluff / acts of service / mature ✨

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

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

Dream’s eyes blinked open. 

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

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

Next thing he knew, he was in this bed. 

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

Still, the bed. The blankets.

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

Still. The bed. 

The heavy blankets. 

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

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

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

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

Ah. There it was. 

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

“…h.. hob ?” 

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

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

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

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

"May I take your hand?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good. You did great, Dream."

" Dream ."

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

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

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

Desperation does not suit a king. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[skyfumgus]

I am sadden by the lack of pizzahead fluff fics.

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

[do-you-know-this-adhd-character]

Do you know this (canon) ADHD character?

Proof: Discussed within the book, from chapter 2