#warprize Hob

[five-and-dimes]

Sunbeam

Part 1 of 4

Using the Dreaming Bingo Adoptable prompt: Cat Ears

Rating: M

Ship: Dreamling

Warnings: Past abuse (not explicit, just implied past warprize things)

Additional Tags: Cat!Dream, Cow!Hob, King/warprize, hurt/comfort

Summary: King of the cow Kingdom, Hob is given a cat person as a warprize, and he'd give him the very sun if he could. But perhaps some sunbeams will be good enough.

Read on AO3

It takes a village to make an au like this- It all started on our fav @gabessquishytum 's blog (specifically these posts), plus a lot of inspo from discord, and Hob's design based on the amazing art of @amielot. Thanks for feeding my obsession with this au, friends! 🤘

~~~

By the time Hob makes it back to his room, finally released from a dull morning council meeting, it is nearly afternoon. And Dream is kneeling on the floor.

It’s been a little over a week since King Hob was gifted the cat person now staying in his private chambers. When Dream had been presented to him, Hob remembers feeling a mix of emotions- rage and sorrow and confusion and offense. The bovine kingdom did not trade in people. 

(Not anymore.)

He had wanted to refuse the ‘gift’ out of principle. But he had looked down at the wounded, far too thin creature in front of him and knew immediately that he could not let him go back with his captors. So he had accepted the offering with the minimal amount of politeness to not start a war. He had beckoned the cat to him, and learned that his name was Dream, and that he was too weak to make it up the stairs to Hob’s room. His body was withered and wasted, starved and neglected, even a short walk leaving him panting and shaking. Hob had waved the guards away and lifted him up into his own arms to carry him the rest of the way.

Dream had trembled against him, no matter how Hob tried to reassure him. Part of him still wonders if it was a mistake to bring the poor man into Hob’s own chambers, to lay him on his own soft bed when his fears were so obvious. But Hob could not bear the thought of leaving him alone and scared in some strange room in the palace. In truth, he wanted desperately to care for him himself. Some part of his heart had been given to the cat the moment Hob saw him, and he was determined to see him healed. 

The first night was hard, and Dream continued shivering even as he drank from Hob’s chest, falling into a fitful sleep in Hob’s bed after being tugged away guiltily to ensure he didn’t make himself sick drinking too much too fast. In the days since, Hob has left him in his room as he went about his business throughout the day, returning to check on him and feed him, and always finding him in the exact spot on the bed where he left him. Until today.

It had been raining for much of the week, but today the sun was streaming through the open windows, the light falling vibrantly across the floor in the center of the bedroom. Dream was crouched at the edge of the thick rug placed beneath the bed, reaching one long arm out to dip just the very tips of his fingers into the light, his face full of equal parts longing and trepidation. 

It is a look Hob remembers on his own face when he was a young calf, sneaking into his mother’s study and standing on the tips of his hooves to admire her golden collar and bell. He would tap it, giggling at the heavy chime, feeling mischievous as he imagined a day in the future when the beautiful adornment would be passed on to him. He also recalls getting caught, his mother admonishing him sternly yet fondly, and the way he never once felt fear of her.

He put his grimly little child’s hands all over literal gold, and he never felt anywhere near the blatant terror he sees now on Dream’s face at being caught reaching for a sunbeam.

“I apologize, my lord,” Dream scrambled frantically back onto the bed, folding his limbs to kneel and forcing his hands to release his robe, laying them in his lap meekly. It broke Hob’s heart every time, the way he so clearly wanted to hold the robe closed around his body and just as clearly expected it to be torn away from him.

He had been given to Hob naked.

The robe he wore now was meant for a calf, too short and too wide and still the best fit they could find for the cat until the tailors finished the custom robe they were working on. Dream had been near tears when he was presented with something to cover himself, bowing his head and offering anything and everything of himself in thanks. So grateful. All for a robe that didn’t even fit.

Hob approached the bed slowly, smiling gently even when he wanted to cry for the poor creature, “You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart.”

Dream shivered, keeping his gaze downcast, “I should not have moved without your permission, master.” 

Hob flinched at the title. As king he was accustomed to being referred to as lord and sire and majesty- it was only appropriate, and he did expect to be given the respect due his station. But he was no one’s master.

Right now though, he had to choose his battles. “You are free to move about the room, Dream,” it was true that Dream clearly needed rest, but his heart ached to think of Dream sitting stiffly wherever Hob ‘put him’. He turned and gestured at the sunlit spot, “You may even move some of the pillows or blankets from the bed, should you wish to lay in the sun.”

Dream looks horrified at the very idea, ears pinned back in fear, “I would never, sire,” his voice nearly pleading for Hob to believe him, as though he is being tested.

Hob feels his own ears droop, before straightening with resolve. He keeps his motions clear, walking to the bed to gather an armful of pillows. Dream keeps his head down, but his eyes follow Hob’s movements as he begins arranging the pillows on the floor where the sunlight is hitting. He adds a few blankets to the pile too, until he has a little nest in the middle of the room, soft and sunlit. 

Dream still hasn’t moved.

“Come here, Love,” Hob keeps his voice soft and soothing, but Dream still tenses when Hob scoops him up into his arms easily, so frighteningly light, “You must be hungry. Breakfast feels like ages ago.”

As much as Hob wishes he could sustain Dream with his milk alone, they had begun introducing some light foods- small morsels of fish, and select vegetables that the royal librarian deemed safe for cat people- into his breakfast and dinner. In between though, Hob fed him himself. Hob was used to being responsible for an entire kingdom, to making decisions that were far and long lasting and praying that he might make his country even a little bit better each day. And he was proud of his position, he would not trade it for anything. But there was something so special about being able to hold this one person in his arms and see the good he was doing. 

It still took some encouragement. As he settles into the nest, leaning back against the pillows and facing the window so that Dream can sit in his lap in the direct sunlight, Dream is still tense and trembling. Hob shushes him gently, slipping his shirt over his head before placing one hand at the back of Dream’s head to guide him to his chest. He remembers how confused Dream had been the first night when Hob had fed him, opening his mouth wide like he might for a different part of Hob’s body, unsure of what was expected of him. He had allowed himself to be maneuvered without any resistance until Hob was finally able to get a few drops of milk onto his tongue. He had watched as Dream’s eyes had widened, pupils dilating as he licked his lips in something like disbelief. 

After that it was a little easier. He is still nervous and hesitant, but Hob is able to press his mouth to his nipple and say, “Drink,” softly, more of a request than an order even if Dream does not yet recognize it as such. Hob shivers at the sensation as Dream begins to suckle, biting his lip to hold back a groan. He turns his gaze up to the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the sensation. Dream shifts in his lap and Hob has to mentally recite every trade detail he’d been given at his morning meeting in order to restrain himself from moving his hips.

The first night, Dream had looked so resigned when he finally noticed the hard prick in the lap he was sitting on. Hob had just pushed him back, not wanting him to throw up what was most likely the first substantial meal he’d had in who knows how long. He had looked so sorrowful, gazing longingly at Hob’s chest, and then he leaned back and gasped, Hob’s cock hard and hot against his hip. 

He had seemed to wilt, any relaxation Hob had coaxed from feeding him vanished, and he spoke like he was reciting a script, “How shall I repay you, master?”

Hob had felt his blood run cold at the title, “There is nothing to repay, sweet one,” he promised, his smile more of a grimace. Dream had stared at him in blatant disbelief, and as much as Hob wanted to keep holding him, he knew his body’s response was not helping the situation. So he had moved Dream off his lap, tucked him under the bed covers to sleep off his meal, and then gone and taken a long bath to take care of the problem.

It is a routine he has kept ever since. Dream no longer asks what Hob wants in return, though he still looks at him expectantly, and Hob smiles and pets him and then excuses himself to the bath to spend as much time as he needs pleasuring himself. And if he spends that time imagining the soft pads of Dream’s hands, or his sandpaper tongue, or the few glimpses he’s gotten of Dream’s enticingly barbed cock, well, no one needs to know.

Glancing back down at the cat in his arms, Hob is drawn now to Dream’s ears. His own are soft, yes, but they are also thick and sturdy. Dream’s are so thin. Even with the blackness of his fur, the sun seems to shine through at the very tips, a soft glowing pink with little veins just barely visible. Almost without thinking, Hob moves the hand on the back of Dream’s head to lightly grip one ear between his fingers.

Unsurprisingly, Dream startles, a frightened chirp escaping him as he releases Hob’s teat. 

“Shhh,” Hob soothes, nudging Dream back towards his nipple, “It’s alright, you can have some more.” He has to be careful not to let Dream make himself sick, he had been warned by the palace physician what to look out for, but they were nowhere near that point yet. Dream shyly begins suckling again, eyes glancing up at Hob through his eyelashes for approval. “Good boy,” Hob praises, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut, relaxing minutely.

In his hand, he runs his thumb across Dream’s ear. So soft, so delicate and paper thin. He feels a strange compulsion to put it in his mouth. Not to bite, like he did with his playmates growing up- Dream feels too frail for that sort of roughhousing, and Hob does not ever want to hurt him. 

No, he wants to hold his silky ear in his mouth like a delicacy, wants to lick and suck at it as gently as Dream does to his teat until the gossamer fur is wet and warm from his tongue.

For now, he settles for simply rubbing the skin between his fingers, stroking the velvet softness in a feeble attempt to distract himself from his own lust. Eventually, too soon for his or Dream’s liking but in accordance with the doctor, Hob must gently push Dream away, his chest feeling emptier and yet still too full. All he wants is to feed Dream until he is fully sated. It hurts that, for now, he cannot.

Dream has become more accustomed to the routine, and so his whimper is nearly inaudible when leans back in Hob’s lap. Hob can feel the way his ears go from lax contentment to physically pressed down, tense and flat against his head. Or trying to be, at least, in the case of the ear still in Hob’s hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Hob coos, “I know you want more, just have to wait a couple hours, Love.”

“You have been more than generous, master,” Dream replied shakily, and Hob suddenly realizes that he does not want to run away to sequester himself in the baths. 

At the moment, his body is not betraying him, at least not so much that his robes do not hide it. And so he shushes Dream again and turns him in his lap, easy as a doll, until they are both facing the window. He nestles Dream between his thighs, bracketing him between thick, warm fur and tugging him to lean back against the softness of his belly. He feels Dream’s breath hitch as he brings his free hand around to rest softly on the subtle swell of his stomach. 

“Relax,” Hob whispered, one hand on his ear while the other rubbed his stomach soothingly, helping encourage his starved body to digest the meal it’s been given, “Just relax.”

As he strokes Dream’s trembling belly and pets his ear, Hob cannot help but tilt his face into the sun. He thinks perhaps he has taken this warmth and light for granted. How many times has he awoken and scowled at the light streaming across his bed? How often has he walked past these sunbeams, stepped across the warm fibers of his extravagant rug, and not even spared them a glance? Now, feeling his body warm- feeling Dream’s body warm- in the glowing light, he feels a pang of regret that he has not appreciated this simple pleasure before.

Well, he is appreciating it now. He smiles to himself as he feels Dream slowly relax under his ministrations, body melting back against him and sinking into Hob’s abundant, pillowy flesh. Hob thinks that if he could, he would keep Dream here, surrounded by his body, soft and warm, forever. 

Maybe he can’t hold him forever, but he can hold him now. And maybe it is too soon to mouth at Dream’s silky ears and press his tongue to them like a salt lick, but he allows himself to press a fleeting kiss to the one in his hand. 

Dream doesn’t flinch. And that is more than enough for now.

[doctorhouse5343]

Hobo Heart : *glaring at the servants from his comfy, high space*

The servants, who keep making 'awww' sounds at him : *notifying their king of the cat prince's favorite spot*

A few minutes later

Hob : *smiling proudly at the pile of comfy blankets and pillows that was now on his sweet little terror's high space*

Hobo Heart, who protested and hissed that he didn't need any of it : *sleeping soundly in it*

Dream : I knew he would give in eventually

[lenreli]

try a little more (then try a little harder) [Part 2]

[AO3]

E, 3.3k. More of "corporate warprize" because I couldn't stop thinking about them.

[First part] on @cuubism's post!

-

It’s dark, the only light coming from past Hob, and Dream shuts his eyes, resting his head against Hob’s knee, can feel his shins aching with how long he’s been sitting down on them. And above him, the tap-tap-tap of Hob’s fingers on the desk, on hold and― 

Dream bites his tongue, burrowing his face into Hob’s trousers, vibrator inside him ratcheting higher, Dream swallowing down a noise. It presses against his prostate relentlessly as he grabs hold onto Hob’s thigh to stop himself from making a sound, dick pressing against his trouser zipper. 

Hob doesn’t react at all to him, shoes still planted on the floor and Dream shakes his head, pushing away thoughts of grinding himself on the other’s legs, or the pointed shoes, can only take a quiet, deep breath as the vibrator goes back to its lowest setting, Hob’s tapping stopped and the light clunk of the remote control now in the other’s hand. 

Mind frazzled, Dream tries his best to pay attention, Hob wanting him to, even like this. And he tries not to press against Hob’s leg, rutting it against as Hob speaks, ripping into the person on the other end of the line ― with a brutal, businesslike fashion. 

One of the oddest things, Dream finds, is that Hob’s grown something resembling a conscience. He told Matthew of what Hob was like in school, and he couldn’t find fault with the description of would sell his mum to the devil for a corn chip that Matthew had replied with. Even though he conducts business like he did, currently Hob’s ripping into one of their suppliers for their business practices before ending their contract, to go with another supplier instead. 

Taking a deep breath, he inhales Hob’s spicy cologne, and he swallows another sound as the vibrator gets turned up a level, Hob’s voice becoming colder as he talks, discussing contractual loopholes. And Dream aches, wanting Hob to touch him ― a hand in his hair, on his throat, or even pressing his face into the bulge he can see in the other’s trousers. Never considered it before, hands around his throat, digging in, but it’s Hob, and he wants it, can feel his cock leaking as he tries to follow Hob’s words, knowing Hob’s going to quiz him after, wants him to learn. 

That if he’s retained enough, understands it, Hob will let him come. 

The conversation continues, Hob’s tone becoming even more tight with restrained anger, and Dream can tell that it’s not going the way he wants it to, especially with the call ending ― and the phone being slammed down. Hob huffs and gets up, and Dream misses the warmth immediately, misses the way Hob’s words coil under his skin. 

“Out,” Hob orders, Dream pulling himself out by the chair, and he squints at the light. Blinking, he watches as Hob writes on a piece of paper, other hand on his hip as he does. Dream stares at Hob’s face, beard as perfect as ever ― and Dream’s only been able to touch it a few times. Hob scowls, dark eyes freezing him in place. “Apparently the PA is not good enough,” Hob says sardonically. “So you’re going to sort this out. Even gave you what to say,” Hob sighs and starts to walk out the office, door shutting as he opens his phone and Dream blinks. 

Gingerly sitting down on the chair, Dream groans and takes a few more deep breaths, reading over Hob’s writing as he calls back.

-

“And the contract?” Hob asks, a leg crossed over as he watches from the sofa and controller in his hand, currently on it’s highest setting―making Dream whimper, and he pulls his scattered thoughts together as he keeps himself from coming. 

“Gone,” he breathes, gripping his arms tightly. “Hob,” he pleads, “touch me.” 

Hob blinks, expression unchanging, “no troubles?” 

Dream keens, the vibe inside going even higher as he shakes his head, “you,” he wheezes, voice cracking, can feel himself going near the edge, the conversation going painlessly with Hob’s words to follow on the call, “nothing.” 

The vibrations click off and Dream shudders, looking up desperately as Hob stares at him. “Over here,” Hob says quietly, and Dream gets out of the chair, and Dream lets out a sound as Hob unzips his trousers, tugging them and underwear down to reveal a red cock. “Pants off.” 

There’s a scramble of taking off his shoes and trousers, watching with wide eyes as Hob uses a tiny bottle of lube to stroke himself, getting some condoms from his pocket, and Dream tries not to come at the sight. Dream aches, the way that Hob pulls him down onto his lap, and Dream whines at the only feel of skin is Hob’s thighs, hairy and― 

Hob’s fingers reach in to take the vibrator out, making him shudder, clutching at Hob’s black blazer, mind shorting out as Hob’s condom-covered cock enters him easily, “please,” he breathes nosing at the grey of Hob’s temple, down to his beard, and lets out a whine as Hob touches him, condom going over his twitching cock. 

“You did well,” Hob says, a hand mercifully going into his hair, pulling him up and down on Hob’s cock, and it only takes a passes, cock pressing against his prostate, can only gasp and keen as he comes, filling up the condom. 

Dream’s mind is a haze of sensation, shivering of the over-stimulation as Hob continues to fuck him, and Dream moans as Hob bites into his neck, licking up to his jaw as Hob comes. 

Hob’s arms wrap around his waist, and Dream puts his own around the other’s shoulders, relaxing into the post-orgasmic haze , mind clear as Hob noses at his jaw, lightly biting it. 

-

Some things about Hob he gets. The punishment, when he gets things wrong ― or for his hostile takeover. The praise and sex. The way going into it, Hob wanted him to have a safeword, though he can’t imagine using it, the spotlight put on him until he reveals things he won't like in sex, in this.

The way Hob is so affable and friendly, contrasted with the cruel way Hob handles him, gleeful to drive him to madness, to where his only reason to breathe is to follow what Hob says. To hear Hob praise him after, softly stroking his hair and skin once he’s boneless and melting, back to kindness on a twirl of a dime, a mess of contradictions that Dream yearns for.

But as Dream stares at the easel and canvas, at the plethora of paints, the go wild :) on paper, stuck on the canvas in Hob’s writing. Some things he’s just confused by. Like the aforementioned canvas, Hob texting him to make use of it, all but ordering him to. 

Why? He simply texts Hob, not expecting an answer quickly ― making him start as his phone vibrates. 

You still doodle. On work files. Hob says, punctuation oddly put in, a contrast to Hob’s more casual texts, and Dream freezes as a picture comes through, showing―the back of a file, filled with sketches of his sisters. 

Dream’s face feels hot, embarrassed as he puts down the phone and looks at the canvas, mortification working him into opening up some of the pencils and paints. 

-

“Do you like it?” Hob asks, staring at the canvas, and Dream blinks, resisting the urge to tear it up, or for some way for Hob to stop looking at it, at the skyline, orange and black buildings, the darker blue to orange gradient of a sunset, one he’s seen often at his office. 

“I think so,” he answers, pursing his lips as Hob glances at him. Dream feels he messed up the shading, the paint, can see big cross-hatches of it, of the top right corner where he spilled some green onto it accidentally. Even with all that, he does like it, does feel pride.

“You really should’ve gone to art school,” Hob says. Dream grimaces, thinking briefly of a reality where he did go to the art course, somehow meeting Hob anyway. However… 

“I wanted to. My parents had other ideas,” he replies, and Hob frowns, looking back at the canvas. “Begged my parents―but it wouldn’t be as lucrative and setting me up to take over,” he says, bitter. 

“We’re going to hang it up in your office,” Hob declares with a nod, and Dream gapes, baffled. “Top floors are all soulless anyway,” Hob mutters. “Now, we have business to talk about,” Dream blinks, still catching up with the previous statement, “bedroom,” Hob orders and Dream’s body follows automatically.

-

Dream knows what he’s saying―has recited it enough, been spurred on to recite it by memory the night before, and he tries not to think of how Hob whined and writhed on a black dildo which Dream got to use on him, in him― 

He really should stop thinking about it, not wanting to get hard, even with the glass walls of the boardroom floor puts Hob in sight in the hallway, phone to his ear as he talks, and Dream would rather be listening to whoever he’s probably tearing into, than the people of the board. Especially with what he’s saying. 

An uproar happens and Dream purses his lips, still watching Hob pace and up down the hallway as the board fill the room up with noise. The racket makes him grit his teeth, waiting it out as threats and screaming eventually quiets down, and he continues on with his speech, uncaring of the board’s reaction, half of him wanting to be in the hallway with Hob.

The meeting ends, and Dream can feel the dirty looks, the phones and earbuds being taken out to discuss things with―his parents, probably. To maybe try and strong-arm his latest announcement into nothing, but Dream could care less as Hob walks in after they’ve left.

Hob finishes his call with a smile, standing close to him and Dream relaxes, leaning on the desk. “How did they take it?” He asks, grinning. Hob seems to get a particular glee with this. 

“Badly,” he sighs, scratching an eyebrow. “Weren’t you watching?” 

Hob shrugs, stepping in so their legs are brushing as he also leans on the desk, “I saw some very spirited gesturing, which I’m sure means they’re not going to be ghouls about this at all,” Hob says, still smiling. Dream glances at him warily. 

“About everyone in management and above being paid less so that lower-tier workers get paid more? How are they meant to get that fifth yacht without that quarterly bonus, Hob?” He asks sarcastically. Hob’s plan was crazy to him at first, but considering the absurd amount in his bank account, with him only making the barest, most miniscule dent with things like pottery classes and art supplies, it won’t affect him at all, at least compared to those on the board. 

“I’m sure they can pull themselves up by their bootstraps and figure something out,” Hob says solemnly, nodding as he does. A hand circles his wrist, and Dream’s pulse jumps under the pad of the other’s finger, “in the meantime,” Hob says quietly, leaning into him, and Dream’s heart races at the stubble grazing his jaw, “you’re due a reward.” 

-

Dream sighs, resting his head on his arms as he looks at Hob, sitting on the chair across from him. His artwork hangs up above the sofa, a black smudge of his signature in the corner of it, added with Hob’s suggestion―which is always a start, though he’s getting used to seeing it hang so proudly. “What happened?” Hob asks, putting his phone screen-down onto the desk. 

“My father rang me,” he groans, “trying to convince me not to go through with the pay cuts,” Hob raises an eyebrow. “And then my mother rang me half a day later, also trying to convince me. They kept at it separately until I hung up on both of them.” Sitting straight up,  he frowns, even with Hob giving him a sympathetic look at least giving him some energy, “and then Desire called, mainly to congratulate me on driving our parents into early graves, or so they said.” 

“Hopefully you’re not thinking of doing something like conceding to them,” Hob says softly, leaning onto the desk with a smile. 

“Of course not,” he scowls, affronted at the implication. Hob gives him a pleased look, “I have to ask,” he says, words falling out of his mouth from tiredness, combined with Hob so close. “Why do this? Why not just take over?” 

Hob’s face goes blank, and Dream’s stomach swoops in response as Hob stares at him intensely. “Honestly, I was happy with my company, small as it was, and all this,” Hob looks around, then leans in closer, hands clasped on the desk, “well, we’re happy where we are, aren’t we?” 

Hob’s voice drops octave and Dream swallows as he nods, Hob’s presence filling the space between differently. Dream’s blood rushes, skin prickling as Hob’s dark eyes continue to stare at him.

“Make no mistake, though,” Hob says, voice dripping down his spine, and Dream’s mouth dries, only blinking as his eyes itch, too focused on the way Hob stands up, walking around to him, “it’d be so easy to stage a coup if you do something I’m not happy with,” Hob purrs, smiling. Fingers hook under his tie and Dream whimpers, feeling light-headed with how fast his blood rushes to his cock as Hob sits on the edge of the desk. 

“You―that’s,” he attempts, can only hold onto the arms of the chair as Hob rolls it closer to him ― stopped by a pointed shoe between his legs. 

“There are so many here who’d happily assist with ousting you, a visible remainder of the nepotism they work under,” Hob whispers with relish, eyes sparkling and Dream can only gasp as his tie tugs him closer, whining as his cock presses into the sole of Hob’s shoe, and Dream grasps at the other’s knees as the tie is loosened, not as choking, even though he feels like that anyway, mind spinning. “People chomping at the bit to see you humiliated, it’d be nothing to nudge them into joining me.” 

Dream lets out a needy noise, insides burning as his hands grasp at Hob’s leg as he tries to hide his face ― and is stopped by a tug on his tie, forcing him to look up and feel the other’s breath on his face, insides molten at Hob’s words, can see it happening behind his eyes so clearly, and Dream should be―terrified, or even offended, but all he can manage is insanely aroused, that Hob would use his considerable skill to ruin him in such a way.  

The small space between their lips feels like a chasm, and Dream aches, caught on tenterhooks. On the fingers in his tie, the shoe he wants to grind into. “And after that, I suppose you’d be my fucktoy full time,” Dream keens, face feeling absurdly hot at Hob’s words, and Dream shudders as the shoe presses into his cock. “Though, I doubt there’s much difference with that.”

“Hob,” he pleads, can only whine as the shoe grinds against his cock, stars exploding behind his eyes as his brain careens towards an orgasm. 

“But it’s more fun this way, I think,” Hob says, lips brushing against his, “to have this supposedly powerful CEO in the palm of my hand, knowing he’d be willing to do anything for me, just for the merest touch.” Hob’s shoe crushes against his crotch and Dream comes with a shiver, listing onto Hob’s jaw, stubble scraping across his temple. 

He tries to speak, but only makes a jumble of noise, can feel the come coating the insides of trousers, insides still hot and rushing even as Hob stands up. Dream pants, needwant not sated at all as Dream falls to the floor, grabbing onto the other’s legs. 

A hand goes into his hair and there’s a tingle of pleasure-pain as Hob tugs his head up, “some of us do have actual work to get to,” Hob chides softly, stepping away and Dream whimpers, curling up on the floor as Hob leaves, door shutting. 

Dream pants, still feeling aroused even though he’s already come, mind frazzled― 

And the door opens, a familiar sigh, the door closing as Hob’s shoes appear under where he’s kneeling. “Dream,” Hob says softly, and Dream looks up as Hob sits on the sofa. “I suppose I can allow for a bit more time.”

Dream's not sure how he got across, crawled or walked, flew, but can only feel Hob's hands on his neck, in his hair as they kiss, filthy and deep. And Dream needs more, needs Hob inside―but there’s no plug in him, too impatient for it, even with how clever Hob’s fingers are. Dream breaks the kiss, nibbling down Hob’s jaw, who allows him to, feel Hob’s pulse on his tongue as he sucks a mark into his throat. 

Hob is warm under him, hands sliding down to his shoulders as Dream scrambles, fingers shaking as they undo Hob’s shirt, and can feel the other’s erection against his taint. There’s a spike of arousal, but his cock only twitches, still too early as he licks Hob’s nipples, nails scratching into the hair on Hob’s chest. Hob whines, arching into him as he Dream continues his way down. 

Down to Hob’s stomach, he nibbles at the happy trail, moaning happily as he undoes Hob’s belt, then trousers, pulling them, which Hob huffs at, hands going into his hair to stroke it. His mouth waters at Hob’s cock, bulging under tight blue boxers, which he licks a stripe, Hob shivering and tugging his hair. Nosing at the fabric, he tugs it down, revealing Hob’s cock and hairy thighs. 

Wasting no time, Dream swallows him in one, making Hob moan as his cock slides down his throat. Keeping a hand on a thigh, he puts his other one on Hob’s balls, massaging them and making Hob gasp and keen as his tongue licks the underside of Hob’s dick, can feel salty pre-come sliding down his throat as he presses his nose into Hob’s crotch, overwhelmed by the musk. 

Hob cries out as he takes his time, bobbing up and down leisurely, laving attention on every part of the other’s cock as Hob whines, lightly tugging his hair. “Dream,” Hob breathes, groaning as Dream keeps a steady pace, can slowly feel his arousal heightening once more, prick filling into the mess in his pants. 

The arousal burns through his veins, but he ignores it, arching his lower back as he focuses on wringing more beautiful sounds out of Hob, until he’s moaning continuously, cockhead twitching in his mouth as Hob gets closer. Hob’s thighs surround him, heels digging into his back, keeping him in place.

“Dream,” Hob repeats in a hiss, a particularly rough pull of his hair as he orgasms, come sliding down his tongue and throat, coating his inside of his mouth as he moans happily, licking the other’s softening cock as he’s filled. The grip on his face lessens, Hob relaxing under him with a groan― 

And a hand in his hair, tugging him off Hob’s cock, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to the other’s prick as he’s pulled up, spit dissipating as Hob kisses him, wet and open-mouthed. 

“You are taking the rest of the day off,” Hob says, biting his lips, a hand coming up to grip his jaw―and Dream lets out a squeak as the other grips his crotch, cooled come jostling against his hard prick, “and you aren’t going to touch this. Got it?” 

Dream swallows, can feel how wrecked his voice is going to be, the lingering taste of Hob making him shiver―and there’s only one answer to this, can’t fathom anything else, “yes.”

[Fin] 

[seiya-starsniper]

Spoils of War - Dreamling

Rating: Explicit | Status: Complete | Chapters 1/1 | Words: 3.1K

Tags: Warprize Dream, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Human, Dubious Consent, Aphrodisiacs, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Hob is a caring lover but he's not above taking advantage of Dream's compromised state, dubious consent becomes full consent, after the drugs wear off

Summary:

“I’m not mad at you," Hob says, gently. He loosens his hold on Dream's scalp ever so slightly. "I’m sorry for scaring you. It’s just someone’s gone and given you something they shouldn't have, and I don’t like that. Tell me who it is, my sweet?” Dream, beautiful thing that he is, shakes his head.

Hob finds out someone's given Dream some aphrodisiacs. Naturally, he wants to help.

Dedicated to the absolutely amazing horny queen @gabessquishytum for inpisiring me with their Warprize Dream AU. Special shoutout to the 🐺 anon for the idea as well.

Edit: I have once again forgotten to tag @dreamlingbingo in my fills LOL. This fic fill square E4: Feel Soulmate's Pain, replaced by High as a kite

Read on AO3 or Read More below:

Hob knows the influence of aphrodisiacs immediately.

When he enters his bedroom he’s immediately hit by the cloying smell of sex and sweat, and the sight that greets him is so arresting it stops him in his tracks.

Dream, his prized Dream, is naked and writhing in Hob’s bed, cock gripped tight in one hand, while the other clutches desperately for purchase on the silk sheets. The man’s body is damp with sweat and…is that…

Sure enough, Hob spots a small uncapped bottle of oil sitting on the table next to the bed. Hob can see the bottle is at least half empty, and the evidence of its use is smeared in small wet spots all over the sheets near Dream’s thighs. 

Hob growls, and the noise alerts Dream to his presence. He gasps, immediately letting go of his cock, and makes a poor attempt to cover himself up with his arms.

“Oh don’t stop on my account,” Hob leers, moving towards the bed in the widest strides he can manage. When he climbs onto the mattress, Hob realizes the sheets are practically soaked with Dream’s bodily fluids, and he wonders how long the other man has been at this. Dream is still staring at him like a wild hare caught in a trap, eyes wide and breath uneven. 

“Oh you poor pretty thing,” Hob says, carding his fingers through Dream’s sweat soaked hair. Dream's eyes flutter shut and he moans at the touch, before seemingly returning to his senses and trying to jerk away. Hob doesn't let him. He grabs a fistful of hair and forces the other man to look at him.

“I’m not mad at you," Hob says, gently. He loosens his hold on Dream's scalp ever so slightly. "I’m sorry for scaring you. It’s just someone’s gone and given you something they shouldn't have, and I don’t like that. Tell me who it is, my sweet?” 

Dream, beautiful thing that he is, shakes his head.

“No?” Hob asks, surprised at the other man's altruism. “You don't need to protect them, you know. They've left you at my mercy, with no relief in sight.”

Hob releases his grip on Dream's hair and drops his hand to the man's cheek instead. He brushes away a stray tear track, and Dream leans into the touch.

“And while I'd like to say I'm a pious and good king,” Hob continues, dropping his voice to a lower register, letting his arousal at Dream's predicament show. “I'm really not.”

Hob's hand moves lower and Dream groans when fingers brush and pinch at his pebbled nipples.

“In fact,” Hob says, continuing his movements downward towards Dream's beautiful leaking cock.

“I rather like you like this. Helpless.” He brushes a thumb along the tip, still slick with oil, and Dream whines. “Needy.” He squeezes the organ with just enough pressure to make Dream buck into it. “Shall I make you beg for relief, my sweet Dream?”

“Please!” Dream cries out, and Hob's eyes widen in shock. It's the first word Dream's spoken to him since he's arrived.

“Fuck,” Hob grunts, before he starts pumping at Dream’s cock in earnest. “You're really bad off, aren't you?”

Dream wails as Hob continues to stroke him. He thrusts shamelessly in Hob's hand for a few moments before his body stills and come spills across his belly.

“Christ,” Hob mutters, taking in the view of Dream’s newly debauched body. “That's a really effective drug you've been given. You still won't tell me who gave it to you?” At this point, Hob’s ready to promote whoever it is to a fucking knighthood instead of punishing them. 

Dream shakes his head again. “Not important,” he replies, clearly still aroused despite coming just moments earlier. “Just don't…don't leave me alone. Please.”

Hob growls and stands, pulling at his nightclothes and practically tearing them off his body.

Dream watches him, pupils blown wide with want and hunger. His eyes drop down lower as Hob shucks his pants, releasing his cock from its confines. Hob grins when he catches Dream’s gaze.

“Like what you see, pretty thing?” Hob asks, stroking himself to full hardness.

Dream makes a slightly distressed noise when he sees just how well endowed Hob really is.

“It's…too big,” Dream gasps. “It won't…”

“Oh, it'll fit inside that pretty little arse of yours,” Hob says. “I just need to make sure I prepare you properly. I'll have to stretch you out first.” Hob wiggles the digits on his right hand for effect, then dips them into the open bottle of oil. 

“Now turn around for me, sweetling,” he commands. “Elbows and knees.”

Dream moves quickly into position, and Hob bites back a groan as he’s greeted with the sight of his beautiful Dream with his arse in the air. Hob climbs back onto the bed and parts Dream’s cheeks with his hands, rubbing his thumb on the tight muscle of his arsehole. Hob wants to slide his tongue inside that pretty little hole. So he does.

“Ah, ah!” Dream moans as Hob presses his face into his arse, his mouth alternating between sucking and licking at his hole. “What are you-?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Hob chuckles, breath ghosting over Dream’s rim. “I'm tasting my prize.” Hob then spread’s Dream’s cheeks wider to give himself better access, before he plunges his tongue inside.

Dream is so very tight, and it is an effort for the king to fully push his tongue past the initial breach. Hob does not normally enjoy the sour flavor of another man’s arse, but he relishes in the taste of Dream, and he’s encouraged further by the lewd moans that escape from the other man’s mouth. Before long, Dream is pushing his hips back on Hob’s tongue, trying to get him to go deeper inside.

“Wait!” Dream cries suddenly, his whole body suddenly seizing. “I-I can’t I- Ahhhh!” Hob then feels the other man's entire body shudder as he comes for the second time that night. Hob groans and withdraws his tongue to admire his handiwork. 

Dream is barely holding himself up on his elbows, and his hips are shaking as the orgasm washes over his body. Hob finds himself even more aroused, painfully so, at having been able to bring Dream to completion twice now, and he’s barely even touched him.

“Can't believe you came just from that,” Hob says appreciatively, running his hands along Dream’s hips, and pulling them to rest against his cock. “I didn't even touch your pleasure spot.”

“Pleasure…spot?” Dream mumbles, still dazed from his orgasm. 

“Mmm,” Hob confirms. “There's one inside every man. Can easily be reached by fingers,” he adds, rubbing his thumb against Dream's hole. “But it feels much better when a cock hits it.”

“How…How do you-”

Hob laughs. “A King is never denied his pleasure,” he says, reaching for the oil again. “And I've had many. I've been wanting to teach them to you ever since you got here.”

“I - ohhhh,” Dream moans as Hob drips more oil onto his arse and rubs it along the entrance to his hole.

“Like that?” Hob asks, slipping his index finger inside.

“Yes, oh gods, yes,” Dream replies, pushing his hips back, driving Hob deeper inside him.

“Someone's greedy,” Hob growls. He already wants to add a second finger, wants so badly to stick his cock inside the tight wet heat of Dream. He’s almost certain the drug is keeping the other man’s body more relaxed than it otherwise would have been, but even so, Hob doesn’t want to tear the poor man apart on his first time. He wants this experience to be just as pleasurable for Dream as it will be for him. It may be the only opportunity he gets to bed this beautiful, stunning creature. 

“Ah ah, please, more,” Dream groans when Hob crooks his finger just so. Hob responds by burying his finger as far as it will go, and he just barely feels the lump of Dream's pleasure spot under the pad of his finger. Dream jerks when Hob touches it, and screams.

“Found it,” Hob crows triumphantly.

Dream opens up beautifully for Hob on his fingers afterwards. Hob finds the other man’s pleasure spot much more easily once he adds a second finger, and Dream’s wanton cries nearly push Hob over the precipice of his own pleasure. It's been some time since Hob has been so affected by a lover. He's quite certain Dream's going to ruin him for any future ones.

When Hob pushes a third finger inside, Dream's body shudders through another orgasm, his cock only managing to release a few pitiful drops of come. Hob can tell the other man is wrung out, and he pauses with his fingers still in Dream's arse, waiting to see if the other man is too tired to continue. Hob may not be a good man, but he's not a beast. He won't fuck an unconscious body.

But Dream doesn't lose consciousness, much to Hob's surprise. His hips eventually push back against Hob's hand once more, and then his head slowly lifts to meet Hob's gaze. The look Dream levels at him is still fogged by the aphrodisiac, but the intention is clear as a summer day. 

Don't stop. 

Hob withdraws his fingers and reaches for the oil once more, the bottle nearly empty from the liberal amount he’d used to open Dream up. But there is just enough left to coat his cock and within seconds, he has himself positioned right where he's wanted to be all night.

“Ready for me, my sweet Dream?” Hob asks, breathless. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

Hob sinks himself slowly into that warm, tight heat and it takes all of his self control not to come immediately. Dream whines with each slow push of Hob’s hips, and Hob listens to make sure the man is still breathing through the intrusion.

Fuck you’re still so tight,” Hob moans. “Are you all right, my Dream?”

Dream’s only answer is a guttural cry and the wiggle of his hips as he tries to take more of Hob inside him. Hob takes that as permission to sink even faster into him, and before he knows it, his pelvis is flush with Dream’s arse. He takes a moment to breathe through the pressure they must both be feeling at the tight fit.

“I’ve got you,” Hob murmurs, rubbing his hands soothingly along Dream’s spine. “You’re doing so well for me, sweet thing, you’re so, so, good.”

Dream seems to keen under the praise, and he responds in tiny little whines and please please please, more more. 

Hob pulls out ever so slightly, and when he pushes himself back inside Dream, they both moan at the contact. Hob then sets to the task of fucking the other man in earnest, keeping the pace moderate and gentle, so that Dream can still get used to to the size of him. 

Dream sobs loudly when Hob manages to find that spot inside him, and it’s then that Hob realizes something is amiss, has been amiss all night, in fact. 

“My little Dream,” Hob croons as his hands roam over Dream’s arse. “Have you forgotten my name?"

Dream’s head whips behind him suddenly, and Hob barely holds back a laugh at the shocked look on the other man’s face. So the little tart was withholding that on purpose then. He snaps his hips particularly hard, and it has the intended effect of making Dream howl in agonized pleasure. 

“Dream,” Hob says again, thrusting back quickly, too quickly, into the other man. “What’s my name?”

“R-R-Robert, ah!”

“Tsk. Incorrect.” Hob spanks Dream’s left arsecheek, and the other man yelps in surprise. He tries to scoot forward and away, but Hob wraps an arm around his hips, and then uses his free hand to spank the other cheek.

“Not my Christian name, pretty thing,” Hob growls, rubbing at the reddened flesh before swatting at it again. “I gave you a name only you could call me when you arrived. Now what was it?”

“Hob!” Dream yells, thrashing wildly in his arms. “Hob, please, no more, I need-” 

“Need what, my sweet Dream?” Hob asks with false sweetness. “What does my little pet need from his king?”

“Please,” Dream whines, practically sobbing as he pushes himself back onto Hob’s cock. “Fuck me, Hob.”

Hob hums, pleased. “Good boy.” He snaps his hips hard once more, and Dream howls.

Whatever thin veneer of patience remained in Hob’s body is shattered as he finally gives into the animalistic urge to fuck into this pretty little body as hard and as fast as possible. 

Dream cries and whines through the whole ordeal, finally giving up the last of his pride and calling Hob by name when thrusts his hips at just the right angle inside.

"That's right," Hob pants, tightening his grip on Dream's hips and plunging back inside the tight clutch of his body. “See how good I can be for you, sweetling? I could give you this every night if you wanted.”

Dream's response, apparently, is to clench down hard on Hob's cock.

Ah fuck!" Hob shouts. He manages a few more hard thrusts, aiming as close to Dream's sensitive area as he can, before he roars his orgasm, spilling hot and fast into Dream's arse.

Hob collapses on top of Dream's back, breathing heavily and inhaling the smell of their mingled scents. Dream whines and tips over to his side when Hob pulls his cock out. The raven haired man is always beautiful, but he's especially beautiful now, breathless and naked and curled up in Hob's bed.

Hob gathers the smaller man into his arms and arranges their bodies so that Dream's back is pressed to Hob's chest. He runs his fingers idly along Dream's still hard nipples, and it's only when he looks down to admire them that Hob notices something is not quite right.

"Oh you poor thing, you didn’t come," Hob coos, dropping his hand from Dream's chest to his cock. Dream whines and thrashes when Hob squeezes it, clearly overstimulated despite still being aroused.

"Hob, no, I-I can't c-come again, it's too much I-" Dream tries to protest but Hob shushes him gently.

"You can, my pretty little Dream," Hob says, right as a wicked idea enters his mind.

Hob sits up from their cuddling position and presses Dream gently onto his back. Dream only protests a little before Hob positions himself and brings his head down to lick at the tip of Dream's cock.

Dream thrashes and tries to thrust his hips up, but Hob pins them down with his arms. Dream is a very sensitive lover, and Hob loves how reactive his body is, but he needs the other man to keep still for this particular activity. Hob would prefer not to accidentally choke to death on cock just because Dream was overenthusiastic.

"Stay still for me, my sweetling," Hob murmurs. "I'll make you come soon, I promise."

"Ho-o-ob," Dream sobs, shaking beneath him. "Please."

Hob doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing this beautiful man say please.

Without further fanfare, Hob takes Dream's cock into his mouth and sucks at the tip, gentle at first, then harder once he's certain he can hold Dream down when he reacts to the stimulation.

It doesn't take much effort before Dream is shuddering underneath his touch, and Hob happily accepts the miniscule drops of come he manages to wring from Dream's overworked cock. Sucking cock is yet another activity Hob prefers not to engage in himself, but he thinks he could get used to sucking on Dream's, if the other man lets him after tonight.

Hob realizes there are a lot of things he'd do for Dream if the other man asked. It's a dangerous thing, being so affected by another individual like this. Hob finds he doesn't quite care at the moment as he crawls back up Dream's body and arranges them in their previous position, Dream's back pressed to Hob's front. He doesn't remember when he falls asleep.

When Hob wakes the next morning, it is to a warm wetness at the base of his cock. He is also lying on his back and there is something weighted pressing down on his thighs.

Hob opens his eyes and lifts his head to look down at what exactly is happening beneath his hips.

Dream's eyes snap to his, and Hob moans out loud when he realizes the other man has Hob's cock in his mouth.

"Well good morning to you too," Hob says cheekily. "Don't let me stop what you're doing, I'm rather enjoying it."

Dream's eyes stay locked on Hob's for a few moments longer, and Hob notices right away that they are no longer hazy and unfocused, but clear.

Dream sinks his mouth further down onto Hob's cock, and Hob gasps when the other man takes him to the hilt. He only barely manages not to thrust into Dream's throat, but it's a near thing with the way Dream drools and gags with each bob of his head.

When he feels the familiar tightening in his loins, Hob places his hand in Dream's hair and gently tugs the man off his cock. Dream grumbles in displeasure as Hob sits up and pulls the other man into his lap. 

"As much as I'd love to come down that pretty little throat of yours," Hob rumbles, biting at Dream's ear, and gripping one of his buttocks possessively. "I haven't gotten my fill of this arse yet."

Dream huffs. "Will you be able to make me come on your cock this time?" he asks, making Hob's jaw go slack. Hob can practically feel the man smirking against his shoulder. 

"Oh, you're a brat when you're sober, are you?" Hob growls, now fully awake, before he flips their positions and pins Dream underneath him. From his new vantage point, Hob can see the clear challenge mixed with heat in Dream's eyes. Hob resolves to not come before he's given Dream at least three orgasms on his cock alone.

"I know just what to do with a little tart like you," Hob grins, cock already in hand.

Dream's returning grin is sharp and feral as he parts his legs, Hob's come still dripping out from his puffy hole.

"Then show me."

[sunglasses-hide-hungry-eyes]

You know what would be fun?

Dreamling Warprize AUs. I'm thinking along the lines of a lot of Thorki-type stuff. Big, strong, golden Hob, captured as a gladiator, catches the eye of noble/prince/king Dream. Haughty, waifish noble/prince/king Dream is caught in battle and presented to barbarian Hob as a gift. You know.

[gabessquishytum]

Oh OG Warprize Hob Anon wherefore art thou..... I just thought it was time to show thanks and appreciation for one of the best AUs (imo) to come out of the Dreamling ship. Not a week goes by where I don't think about their writing, and spin headcanons and scenarios of my own in my head. One of the most underrated aspects of their writing I think is Dream's ruthlessness and cruelty in that AU, it's so rare to see Dream just be a toppy asshole all the way through, fellow fans seem to prefer to see him as an emotional bottom twink 😭. One of the rare AUs where Hob is allowed to be the sensitive wanton bottom all throughout 🤤🤤 Ohh OG Warprize Hob Anon, I miss your writing so much, I hope to see your writing grace this dashboard once more, especially with more dark Dream moments. For my fellow fans, I thought I'd do a small thing and compile all their asks here. I'm so sorry if this is sloppy, but I just copy-pasted these here.

Warprize Hob AU

Anonymous asked:

I don’t know where this came from?? Dubcon/noncon cw, or it’s kinky roleplay if you prefer that. But...

Hob fought bravely, a solider in the war of greater men. He even crossed blades with terror in all black, the Nightmare King himself once. They said it was better for a solider like him to die with honor than to be taken alive. But when the tide turned and Hob’s own sworn sovereign fell, all he wanted was to live. He laid down his blade, expecting to be taken into chains. But not chains like these.

He kneels, blindfolded, on the bed, naked other than pure gold bondage, thin chains that truss him everywhere. Gold binds his hands at his back. Gold cuffs secure his ankles, connected by a flimsy thread only put there so it could be snapped apart. Gold laces around his tits, catching in his chest hair. Gold threads between new ruby piercings in his nipples—still so sensitive that even the touch of silk sends bolts of pure heat through his body. Every time he twitches, he sees stars. Gold loops like garters around his thighs, connected to the glimmering chain around his hips. And gold ribbon cages his achingly hard cock and full balls.

Hob is so, so hard. He has been since they fed him sweet candied fruits laced with a magic that heated his blood until he was begging those faceless servants to please, please let him come. They didn’t. Instead, he was bathed and perfumed with jasmine oil brushed through his hair (everywhere). He was opened with gentle touches and generous oil, a marble plug nestled inside him, blessedly cool against his burning skin. He was left on the bed with a final chain connecting his collar to the bedframe.

His prick so hard in its confines, and the plug is not enough. He still feels terribly empty. Against his own will, he finds himself rocking back and forth, rubbing his thighs together, desperate for anything that might help him get pleasure where he needs it most.

Until with no warning, a hand touches his head. He stills. He thought he was alone. Strong, thin fingers brush down his face, linger on his lips. A gentle thumb pushes inside his mouth. Hob moans, body thrumming like a harp just to be touched so simply.

“Peace, my prize,” a deep voice, peaceful as slumber, murmurs. The blindfold is pulled down and Hob blinks blearily into the face of the Nightmare King himself. He smiles, confident and regal, and slim fingers caress his side, down to his ass, and push against the plug until it finally presses where Hob needs it. "I will give you what you crave.”

Gabe:

Mmmm yes!!!! I love this.

Hob as Dream’s chosen prize after his victory in battle? Oh yes, excellent. I particularly adore the idea of Hob being unknowingly fed some kind of aphrodisiac to make him needy - Dream wants him to be willing, so he will simply make sure that he has no choice but to be.

Also, the preparation... Hob would usually be utterly humiliated by such an act. It's so impersonal and degrading. But all he can think about is how much he wants to cum, so he spends the whole time whining and begging for more. By the time Dream gets to him, Hob is spreading his legs like a well trained whore who's never known anything different. He's nearly forgotten the battle and his instincts as a warrior, he just wants to be fucked. Anyone could come into the room and have him and Hob would just be grateful.

But he isn't for just anyone, oh no. He's the king’s prize, his spoils of war. He suckles desperately on Dream’s thumb, sticks his arse out temptingly and generally tries to make himself as tempting as possible. He aches, and his brain is fuzzy, the king is absolutely the most beautiful thing Hob has ever seen right now.

Not to mention his cock is perfect - the most perfect Hob has ever had inside him. It's as though his body has been molded perfectly for the king’s cock. He's not sure if he's ever cum so many times in his life.

When he comes back to himself several hours later, sweating and sticky and aching... he knows that he should be angry and hurt. He should get up from the beautiful bed and find some way to escape. But. He's tired, and hungry. The bed is comfortable, and the king is staring at him with sparkling black eyes.

He rolls over. Cum trickles gently down his thighs. The king holds out his hand, one of those candied fruits held between his long pale fingers.

Hob opens his mouth.

Anonymous asked:

Hiii I’m the originally war prize hob anon, lured back because I was blown away by how you and everyone else responded to the idea! Amazing work, go team.

Here’s more. (It’s so long. I’m sorry)

At first, Hob was confined to the bed chamber, a decoration, a pretty thing—and so rarely has Hob ever considered himself pretty. Pretty was for swallow-boned young men and women with smooth thighs. Pretty was not him, full bodied and furred. He has always pleased his lovers, they have found him handsome. But most have expected him to take charge and take care of them, not to—to—

Submit with spread legs and open mouth. To tempt. To eat sweet aphrodisiacs from those long, pale fingers until he’s begging to feel them for inside him. Sweet humiliation.

The king wants this. They pass long nights pounding Hob’s pride to shreds. He learns to beg under the king’s cock, his cruel mouth, and the touch of those inhuman eyes. Even sober, he only has to think of the king and his body floods with hot want. But still. Hob doesn’t understand.

“Why me?” He dared ask the first week, the king with a hand fisted in his hair, thrusting into him so deep and slow, Hob could feel it in his throat.

The king paused. A cool hand trailed down Hob’s back. Gathered the chains that pooled at his back, the ones he hadn’t yet snapped in his fervor. “I am interested.”

Hob meant to press him, even at the risk of his own peril, but the king slammed back into him and every thought vanished.

And then Hob is brought out of the bed and taken to kneel at the throne during the days too, chained to the king’s hand. At first, Hob assumes he is meant to be a symbol of the king’s power. Or a toy to warm the king’s cock when the duties of court grow dull. (Hob is both.)

But then comes a night when the king ponders battle plans for his next great war. And he turns to Hob.

“My general suggested we surge ahead and meet the enemy at their own gate. You rolled your eyes.” The king looks at Hob as if he is peeling the layers of muscle and bone away, finding the heart of him. And Hob realizes that all day, the king had noticed him listening. Not always—sometimes the king prefers to see him squirm, prefers to press the heavy gold plug into his hole and watch Hob strain for hours to keep it in, only to fail. During those hours, Hob had not heard a thing.

But when the king had allowed Hob to rest his head against his solid thigh, Hob had listened. And he had been seen doing it.

“Your enemy will expect a frontal attack. A show of strength. For you are a strong king. Respectfully, that’s a brave way to kill many of your own men.”

“Hmm.” The king says nothing else. He beckons until Hob kneels again at his side, the bowl of candied fruits, as always, sitting on the table. The king plucks one up and offers it to Hob.

“My lord,” Hob breathes. “Why do you care what I think?”

Hands brush through his hair. “Eat,” the king murmurs.

This king wants something. He waits for something. Hob cannot work out what. Yet.

He eats.

Gabe:

Assfggjkl og warprize anon!!!!!!

I am so taken with Hob’s thoughtfulness, his curiosity. His fearlessness. And I think that Dream is rapidly becoming besotted with these things too.

Hob isn't scared of him. No matter how ruthless and harsh he is, no matter which way Dream forces Hob to bend, he always springs back up with those curious eyes, wanting to know what's next. Dream suspects that he doesn't need the aphrodisiacs at all - that Hob would be willing to spread himself out in any arrangement of Dream’s choosing. But Dream is afraid of rejection, and Hob enjoys the lustful oblivion just a little bit too much to ask for a change.

Hob is clever and capable and good with his hands. When Dream comes to him wounded from some accident or skirmish, Hob knows exactly how to bind the flesh carefully but firmly. He rests his head in Dream’s lap after, like a beloved pet hound. His breathing is so soothing, Dream even manages to fall asleep. He wakes up and Hob is already between his legs, ready and waiting to be choked on the king’s cock as usual.

Dream fucks him instead, as ferocious as ever but this time with a purpose. Hob is his prize and the world ought to know about it. From now on, he'll have Hob smelling of his cum, always. He'll have him littered with bite marks and bruises. He'll keep Hob close, make sure the end of his gold leash is always within reach. He'll bring Hob to the battlefield, if he must.

A creature as magnificent as Hob must be treated as he deserves. And Dream alone can give him what he needs.

Anonymous asked:

War prize hob anon, here!!! I am loving the responses to this idea! So many amazing brilliant takes, love to see it.

The talk of whether Hob would escape or stay and be spoiled inspired me (glorious takes on both sides) so I drabbled on the subject…

It takes time. Trust. And a letter opener left unattended.

That night, Hob slides quietly as he can out of the silk sheets. He sits astride the sleeping king, his face turned toward the moon, his neck a deceptive swan’s curve. And Hob raises the blade to it.

One slice. And he is free.

It does not matter, he tells himself, that he has never been fucked so well. That the king is kind to him, relatively. He could take Hob with violence and pain or share him. Instead he feeds Hob fruits to heat his blood so that every time he plunders his body, with fingers, tongue and cock, Hob welcomes him.

Even the humiliations and hurts of his new service are given a sweet edge. The way he was spanked for misbehaving, hard and brutal, until his skin was red and tender. Followed by a hot tongue in his ass. The way he was made to kneel for hours and hold the king’s cock in his mouth. Followed by servants massaging the aches from his body and tending to his bad knee. (Yet another reason Hob is a poor choice for a prize.) In the king’s service, Hob might hurt. But he rewards him with such care…lavishes attention on him until Hob cannot come any more.

No. Hob has to do this. He must escape. He has his pride. This is just pleasure. Nothing more.

“Well?” The king’s voice interrupts his turmoil. Oh gods. He is awake. He surges up, knocking the blade from his grip. A hand clamps on his thigh, another on his wrist and he is rolled on his back, away from the blade. The chain between his wrists, once wide to allow him movement, slithers shorter until the cuffs kiss, and the collar tightens just enough to threaten his breathing. For all his battle prowess, struggling it gets him nowhere but squirming and pinned. The nightmare king settles over Hob like a dragon on top of its hoard. He stares unblinkingly down at him.

“You could not do it,” comes that deep whisper. Hob stills. “You are a well-trained solider yet for nearly five minutes you sat with a blade at my neck and did not make your move. Why?”

Hob swallows. A hot open mouthed kiss blooms just under his jaw, followed by the press of teeth. Even without the candied fruit his body sings for this man. What is happening to him?

“My pet. My prize. You must already face great consequences for this disobedience,” the king says. “I may not let you come for weeks. Answer me or it will be months.”

“I had to try. I had to—I don’t understand.” It isn’t the first time he has asked, pled, begged to know. “I’m at my wits end. Please. Why me?”

Fingers slip between them to tease at his hole and Hob resists the powerful, heady urge to submit and grind against him. For as long as he can before his resolve crumbles into lust. It will not be long. It never is.

The king gives the same maddening answer he always gives. The only one, whispered against his lips. “I am interested.”

Gabe:

Hnnnnng.

Og warprize hob anon…… i hope you know that you’ve created a beautiful monster and we’re all horny about it. i hope you also know that your words are beautiful and your prose is delightful. it’s a pleasure to read.

Oh but the turmoil Hob goes through. There’s nothing that the king can do to soothe the way his mind is twisting and turning, bouncing between loyalty to himself and some mad, misplaced loyalty to this nightmare of man. What does Hob owe Dream, really? His life? What kind of life is this?

He could set himself free. He thinks he’s almost worked it out. He could take away the one think the king seems to want. He could make himself… dull. Boring, predictable. Uninteresting.

But.

He thinks about long, thin fingers running down his spine and soothing the perpetual ache at the small of his back. Warm salve on his knee, applied at the king’s own orders. His body rigid and sweating in the night from some bad dream, suddenly embraced by cool arms. A kiss on his brow in the early morning. He’s been so greedy for those things, has coveted them and gloried in them. How can he live without them now?

Worse: what would the nightmare king do with a broken toy? Hob doesn’t want to find out.

He bounces in Dream’s lap with renewed fervor when he’s finally allowed the privilege of taking the king’s cock again. But there’s a heat behind his eyes, a kind of determination that he’d thought long dead and gone. He’ll find some way to win this game, this strange warped little battle. His own feelings be damned, Hob will not be broken. Even a king must have some chink in his armor, somewhere.

Dream raises a delicate eyebrow and almost, almost smiles. Pulls his prize closer by his golden leash.

“Interesting.”

Anonymous asked:

Hiiii warprize anon here! Glad to see people are still warprizing hob, I think it’s good for him. Truly, anons, you are doing glorious work with that AU.

I wanted to write dark obsessive dream next in all his dubcon glory next but no one cooperated? Have some less porny character introspection instead ig…

It’s amazing how little it takes for a grown man to become used to being a pet. As weeks stretch into months, Hob revels, just a little. In the lustful linger of eyes on his body. In the quirk of that cruel mouth when Hob pleases the king. The eager stirring of his cock even before he eats aphrodisiacs. Even his punishments—even the hot lash of the whip—begins to feel like sacrilegious worship. Gasping for breath, holding his thighs spread as the king buries himself in his body certainly is. In the blackest and most honest hours of the night, Hob knows the truth. He is starting to like it.

That’s the danger of the king’s service.

Hour by orgasmic hour, the king is twisting himself into Hob’s mind and body like a key carving out its own lock. He demands Hob’s submission, his pleasure and his desire for his own. But how many people had the king had in such a way? How many prizes have knelt, and learned to live at his pleasure? And where are they now? Abandoned surely, replaced. Hob is the chalice the king sips from now but he is one of dozens, maybe even hundreds. The king might have taken a prize from every battle won.

Hob is…not special.

He kneels on his cushion, waiting for the king who has stepped from the throne room, and reminds himself.

Footsteps approach and stop just behind him. Always, when the king is away, a guard is assigned to keep a close eye for Hob’s protection, though none are allowed to take his chains in their grip. Not unless Hob runs. Daring, the guard plucks at the chain between his nipples until it swings against Hob’s chest. He holds his breath.

“How’s it going?” A voice drawls. “Knees a little tired?”

Hob glances at the door for the absent king before raising his head. The guard above him smirks like he knows a joke and Hob is the punchline.

“Yes, rather,” Hob replies. “Even with the cushion.”

“His majesty seems to like that,” he muses.

Corinthian. That is his name. He’d heard the king give him orders with iron in his voice. The way one talked to a guard dog who wasn’t trusted. A creature who couldn’t be taught to fear the whip.

“You’d know better than me.” Hob meets his eye as best he can through the man’s dark glasses. He is very handsome, golden and strong. Perhaps this is the answer. Perhaps prizes who lose their luster are given other ways to serve.

Corinthian tilts his head. Hob feels his eyes trace down the marks the king left. Lurid love bites at his throat and faint fingertip bruises on his hips. “I really don’t. Suppose I’m not his type.”

“Surely you’ve seen the others then.” Hob replies. He keeps his hands folded where they’re bound at the small of his back.

“Other … prizes?” Corinthian’s grin only grows. “Sweetheart, no. You’re the first.”

Hon stares but senses no lie. “Can’t be.“

“Picking a prize always been his right but he’s never felt the need to use it until now. Until you.” The man leans closer, dangerously into his space. Hob feels him breathing, he’s so close. “I’ve heard the sounds he pulls from you at night. He must have years of pent up energy.”

Hob’s throat is dry. Something fragile, winged and stupid flutters in his chest. But before he has to think of a reply, Corinthian snaps back to a respectful distance an instant before the doors swing open, and the king sweeps in. He climbs the stairs, slinks back to claim his throne. Hob is still reeling when his cool hand finds his chin and tilts his head up.

“You did not move,” the king says. It is not a question but an expectation.

Hob shakes his head. For a long moment his eyes glitter down on him, simply watching. Then fingers card through his hair and he is guided to rest his head against his king’s knee.

Gabe:

Lying face down on the floor after reading this tbh. Like. What can I say? What can I add?

Knowing that he's the only one is a further kind of beautiful torture for Hob, because once again he's asking himself over and over again: why? Why him, above anyone else? There's a part of him in agony over his imprisonment, the curtailing of his freedoms, the fact that his mind and body are no longer his own. Then there's the part of him who wants to know why, so he can be good. He needs to know how he can keep the favour that he has miraculously obtained.

And Dream? He never gives answers. If Hob even dared to ask more than a small, sobbed "why me?" in the midst of some blissful torture, Dream wouldn't bother to answer. Hob thinks that the king likes him kept ignorant and confused. It's another way to keep him in line. He's always dancing on a knife's edge, wondering whether the king will eventually toss him aside - never knowing if he's truly safe.

So he'd better be as good as he can. Never give Dream a reason to throw him away. But he will slip up eventually - its only a matter of time...

Anonymous asked:

As requested, here’s some warprize!hob being punished by dark!dream for bad behavior. Also… thanks panickingstudent2’s last ask for some very specific inspo!

The king chains him up by his wrists. No gold cuffs with velvet interiors here. Not for this. This is punishment, work fit for dungeons, cold and deep as his king’s displeasure. Hob is already delirious from too much candied fruit. The cage has been cruelly clenched around his hot, aching cock for days now but he needs to be fucked, he needs it, he needs it.

“Mercy,” he begs but it won’t do him any good. He’s been begging for days, his cock and balls hot and aching.

Fury is divine on the nightmare king’s face. Other kings would simply kill him. Leave his body for the ravens. But Hob’s king will not let him go.

“I would have you obey me,” the king says. Fingers brush against his hole and don’t even push in where Hob yearns for them despite himself. He cants his hips back weakly, but the fingers go away. “But if I must bring you low again and again, I will. And I will enjoy it every time.”

He steps back. And the whip snaps through the air and white-hot fire flashes across Hob’s back.

Wet agony blooms across his shoulders and bloodred welts.

“You know why I must do this,” the king says. “You know why it is my pleasure to do this.”

The whip lashes again and again, fire licking across his skin. It doesn’t stop when Hob screams. Or when he sobs. When it’s done, his entire back glows like an ember. The king faces him, eyes black holes in his pale, sharp face. He places a cool hand on Hob’s back and he presses into the soothing touch, whining like a newborn babe.

“Please, I’m sorry, please, pleasepleaseplase,” he breathes. The king twists him around until the cuffs pull tight. He drags the plug from his hole, and finally buries himself to the hilt in his ass. Hob wails. Hands tangle in his chest hair and pull him flush against his king, as he plunges in and out at a ruinous pace. Being finally filled is sweeter relief than when the whip stopped.

“Say you are mine,” the king says. Once he was quiet, and constrained whenever he touched Hob and this is why—the need in his voice is barely bridled. Hob is not the only desperate one. “Say it.” The king bites, sudden and sharp at Hob’s earlobe.

“I’m yours—Morpheus!” His head snaps back as his body thunders through a cruel, dry orgasm. He doesn’t hear the king’s soft gasp against his ear, or register the name he’s cried. He’s in pain, from his cock to his shoulders—yet Hob floats. Perhaps he could fly.

Love, Warprize Anon

Gabe:

Hnnnggg. I am. Deeply obsessed with this. I love it when you drop these beautiful snippets for us!!! Hob calling the king by his name in the middle of a punishment/orgasm? Talk about a mind-fuck. Poor thing, he's truly terrified.

But it isn't just fear, is it? It would be so much simpler if he could say that he's scared and be done with it. So much easier to handle that emotion. What he feels is more that fear. He's grown attached to the king, longs for him when they're apart and fears him when they're together. When he tries to imagine a life away from his capture, he can't even manage it anymore. It's impossible to see beyond the king, who looms so large in Hob’s thoughts all the time. He's obsessed, addicted, terrified, longing to be taken and horrified by the idea all the same.

All he knows is that his king has power over him that he will probably never comprehend. Perhaps its time to surrender and acknowledge that he's lost. He no longer belongs to himself. He belongs to Morpheus.

-Love Yan Anon <3

Aww, hey Yan Anon!!! It's nice to hear from you. And thank you for highlighting OG Warprize Anon and their incredible work (you're a trooper for scrolling through and copy/pasting everything, seriously). Warprize au has definitely been a big hit, as it rightly should be, and it's great to look back on how it all started. Hopefully OG Warprize Anon is out there doing great and knowing that they inspired many, many people.

Hopefully we'll see more content for the Dark Dream enjoyers out there. I certainly lean towards a mean toppy Dream myself, although I'm not immune to Obliterating That Twink either. There's room for everyone in the fandom - and don't forget to leave comments for your favourite authors as Yan Anon has here. It's a great way to encourage your faves to write more of the stuff that you love!

[gabessquishytum]

Warprize!Hob au

King Dream is obsessed with playing with Hob’s little cock, but more like a fidget toy than anything else. While holding court or during a meeting, he’ll have Hob on his lap and one hand just idly fiddling with Hob’s cock; petting it, stroking it with his thumb, lightly tracing or flicking or tapping it with a finger, maybe wandering to tug at his balls or pubic hair, but always returning to his cute little cock.

It drives Hob crazy—there’s no cage or ring or even rule preventing him from cumming if he wants to, but the stimulation is never enough to actually get him there, as Dream does it almost absentmindedly, as something to do with his hand while he works (and begging for more or doing anything overt to gain Dream’s attention properly will either be ignored or get him admonished for trying to distract the king while he’s busy).

Eventually there will be a break or something and Dream will turn his focus to Hob and coo over how desperate he is, as though Hob is just a needy little slut who’s horny for no particular reason, and not that he’s been teased and edged for ages. To give his pet the relief and attention he so dearly needs, he’ll rearrange Hob to face the room and spread his legs so that each are draped over the arms of Dream’s throne, giving everyone a proper view of Hob’s cute cock bouncing uselessly as he’s impaled on Dream’s cock.

-🪽anon

Hob’s lil cock is so cute, how could anyone resist touching it? When it's small and soft it feels so nice against Dream’s hand. When it gets hard it's a little bigger but not by much, and it leaks over Dream’s fingers to make stroking it even easier. Dream isn't thinking about Hob’s pleasure, of course he isn't. Such things aren't important when he has great matters of state at hand. It just feels nice to touch him. And if Hob is essentially being tortured and overstimmed hour after hour well, that is his job.

When Dream emerges from his haze of diplomatic affairs, its so amusing to see what a mess his slut has made while he was busy. The poor little thing is soaked and twitching. Dream had better put him out of his misery. He wants to cum again, right? He wants the king to keep touching his useless little cock until he cums dry, right?

And of course Hob isn't going to say no. He'll never pass up the chance to have the King's proper attention. Even if his little cock hurts so much as he tries to cum all over again. It just feels so nice when Dream notices him. Especially because having the king's massive cock inside him reminds him exactly how much of a toy he is - and thinking about that is guaranteed to make him cum, even if he passes out in the process.

[gabessquishytum]

Hob’s kingdom is losing to Dream’s. Hob is actually just a soldier but knowing the dream king’s cruelty, the king makes hob switch clothes with the crown prince so that the real crown prince can be smuggled out of the kingdom before dream’s forces reach the palace.

Hob doesn’t want to die but he’s given no choice but to wear the crown and royal garments and wait for dream to eventually come, mistake him for the prince, and kill him.

The guards might look like they’re defending “the prince” but they’re actually keeping him from fleeing long enough for the real royal family to escape.

When dream bursts into the throne room, hob expects to be killed because The ruse works. Dream greets him with a snide “your highness”. He takes the crown, but he doesn’t kill hob. he orders hob to be bathed and bound in his chambers.

Hob has no idea what’s happening. But he isn’t going to complain about not being killed immediately. Once dream comes back to play with him, he’ll surely fall asleep, then hob can slit his throat and escape.

Only when dream comes to bed that night, he takes his time. He’s gentle and arrogant with the “prince” and really savors his victory. The whole time he’s opening hob up for his cock, he’s teasing him about losing his kingdom—he tells hob all he’s good for is giving a real king pleasure. He even fucks him face to face (the first time, at least) so that hob can’t look away from him, can’t pretend he’s with anyone else.

By the end hob hates dream but he’s come like a fire hydrant three times. He really means to make his escape but he’s so wrung out that he falls into an exhausted sleep, Dream’s come dripping out of him like a claim. By the time he wakes up, he’s being fitting for pretty good chains and some silky new clothes. Dream wants to show off his new pet “prince” in style. and suddenly escape is going to be a lot more difficult. Also hob doesn’t quite dare let him know he’s got the wrong prince on the end of his leash. That might really get him killed.

Yes this is basically just more warprize hob I know and don’t care!

Fake Prince Hob!!!!!!

He's secretly living his best life, but don't tell anyone. He's got nice clothes, decent meals, he doesn't have to march around or fight anyone. He's actually never been treated so well. When Dream insults him by calling him spoiled and pampered, Hob has to hide a laugh behind his hand. He's certainly not spoiled - he's a peasant turned soldier who never ate anything better than dry brown bread until a week ago. He is trying VERY hard to make sure that Dream continues to believe the ruse, because as long as he's the former prince? Hob’s life is pretty damned good.

Let's not forget that he's having the fucking of his life every day, multiple times. Being chained up isn't so bad, when the chains are gold and specifically designed to highlight some of his assets. Dream has taken a particular liking to his chest and thighs, and he's ordered several sets of thin, string chains. He wraps them around Hob like he's practicing shibari, and puts him on display for all to see.

Does Dream know the truth? Well, it doesn't really matter any more. As far as his subjects are concerned, he has captured and humiliated the prince. As far as Dream is concerned, he's got the prettiest bed-warmer he's ever had. For all Hob puts up the ruse of fighting back, he's obviously enjoying himself. He looks so cute with his lovely thick thighs covered in Dream’s spend, after he's jerked off all over his prize yet again. Chains plus cum? He's never seem anything more gorgeous. Whoever he is, Dream is keeping him.

[gabessquishytum]

Fun variation on the warprize hob au: Dream and Hob knew each other as teenagers, when Dream was just the prince and Hob was apprenticed to his father in a mercenary band, one contracted to King Time for a few months. They’re basically childhood sweethearts, utterly infatuated with each other from minute one and always together.

Prince Dream constantly makes promises that when he’s king, Hob will be by his side always, would want for nothing, be given every kind of luxury and pleasure, would never have to lift a finger and instead just sit and look pretty. Hob wants all of that, wants it desperately, but knows how unlikely it is to come true, that his time with Dream is temporary.

And he’s proven right, as the mercenaries’ contract ends, so abruptly that Hob has no time to say goodbye or arrange further communications, and the new contract is in a kingdom so far away that communication would have been nearly impossible to maintain anyway. The years pass, Hob grows into a man and a good mercenary soldier in his own right, but still remembers his beloved Dream and his lovely visions of their future. But he’s lost track of which kingdom was Dream’s, and Hob’s kept too busy with one war or another to properly search (kings here take on regnal names when they’re crowned, so he can’t just ask around for King Dream, he’d be known by some other name).

He’s fighting in this latest war, when he’s suddenly grabbed by the other side and taken kicking and biting to the enemy palace and quarters of King Morpheus. Hob is forced to his knees before the king, finally looks up, and is struck utterly still to see Dream, the love of his youth. He hardly notices the guards being dismissed, too busy drinking in how Dream has changed, how mature and regal he’s become. When they’re alone Dream approaches, strokes his cheek, and whispers in his ear “my dearest Hob, it’s high time I kept my promise.”

(The guards feel a little sympathy for the warprize they were told to grab, they don’t blame him for fighting so hard to escape being brought before the Nightmare King. Poor thing was clearly frozen in terror when he was finally face to face with him, and they can’t imagine the tortures he went through as they hear his crying and wailing over the next couple days. When the two finally emerge, everyone’s a little impressed despite themselves at how quickly and thoroughly King Morpheus has broken his new prize; the man is utterly pliant and clinging to the king, seeming completely content to sit on his lap, or on a pillow at his feet, and preen under King Morpheus’ hand, which is almost always touching him)

-🪽anon

Oooh yes this is perfect romance novel material!!!! I'm imagining Dream casually spotting Hob on the battlefield after all these years and he's just like. That One. I want That One. His servants are slightly confused because the Nightmare king doesn't usually take people on as prizes. They feel pretty bad when Hob comes in kicking and screaming.

Nobody sees the way he literally jumps into Dream’s arms like an excited puppy. Dream squeezes him tight and they just roll around the floor like idiots for a while. Hob is like "I can't believe it's actually you!!! Holy shit!!!!" And Dream is laughing and spouting promises about how he's going to pamper Hob and make sure he never has to do horrible mercenary work again.

I'm imagining that Hob would have a wonderful time all snuggled up in Dream’s lap, occasionally giving him military advice (tactician + concubine is such a wonderful combination). It becomes clear very quickly that Hob may be a warprize but he certainly isn't being tortured or abused. He's been very well taken care of, fed the finest food and dressed in luxury clothes, and he's extremely well fucked. He's always sleepy sometimes achy, and he's constantly trying to catch Dream’s attention. Now he's all clean and well fed he looks absolutely beautiful so it's not like Dream can look away from him anyway.

Imagine all the fun they have running around the palace together and having embarrassingly loud sex in all the places they used to hang out when they were younger <33

[gabessquishytum]

Another confident-warprize-Hob and shy-king-Dream prompt with a slightly different flavor:

Trans man Hob is a highly sought after courtesan, and he loves his work, which is half of his appeal - he's so enthusiastic and makes it very clear how much he loves what he does. Eventually he ends up gifted to the Dream King, who never has courtesans or warprizes around. He's quiet, and stoic, but seems interested enough in Hob. 

Now the thing is, it's common knowledge that Hob is trans. And he does not tolerate any misgendering or disrespect, but people tend to want to fuck his pussy and he's genuinely fine with that.

So his first night with Dream, he starts off dirty talking about Dream fucking him. And Dream, who was already being pretty shy about the whole situation, is like “Oh. Yeah, of course. :( We can do that.”

And Hob, because he has no fear and likes making people feel good is like “wait, do you not want to?”

“No no, it’s fine, if that’s what you want we can do that I don’t mind.”

And Hob just gapes like “You are the KING and I am your WARPRIZE literally the whole point is we do what YOU want to do jfc what is happening here.”

It’s like pulling teeth, and it takes a lot of persuading that no, really, Hob enjoys all sorts of stuff, Dream won’t be disappointing him (and seriously, what king worries about disappointing his warprize??) but eventually Dream admits that he was sort of maybe hoping Hob would fuck him. He’s got a lovely strap-on, with jewels encrusted on it for texture including some on the interior to rub against the wearer’s clit, that has never been used before. The times he’s been in relationships he’s been expected to top, and he always deferred to his partner’s desires. When he got a warprize, he thought he might finally get to bottom, but when Hob mentioned being fucked he lost his confidence and didn’t want to be inconsiderate. 

Meanwhile, Hob is holding this gorgeous strap-on that’s probably worth more than he used to make in a year and vibrating with excitement. Similarly to Dream, Hob has always been expected to bottom, and he really does enjoy it, but it’s been ages since he got to top and he is ALL ABOUT this.

Dream is still hesitant and unsure, but Hob has enough confidence for both of them, pulling him into bed and giving him everything he can’t bring himself to ask for. They both end up cumming multiple times and by the time they fall asleep they’re both a little bit in love.

(Hob’s goal is to boost Dream’s confidence until he can ride Hob’s cock completely uninhibited, no worries or anxieties, just taking his pleasure until he cums on Hob’s chest.)

-🦇

YES. GIVE THAT MAN A STRAP.

Dream gets out this elaborate box which contains a whole set of beautifully carved, incredible jewel encrusted straps. The harness part is made from the softest leather, and they're obviously the most beautiful objects that Hob has ever seen. He oohs and ahhs over them while Dream sits and blushes and slowly calms down a little bit. He's still shy, but he figures that Hob seems pretty about this turn of events, so maybe it's all ok?

As far as Hob is concerned its more than ok. He picks out a medium sized strap-on from the collection and immediately launches back into the dirty talk while he wiggles into the harness. He tells Dream that he's so good for being honest about what he wanted, and that he's going to make such good use of these pretty toys.

Dream whimpers and wiggles like bait on a hook, almost turned on enough to forget his nervousness. He spreads his legs invitingly and Hob peppers his neck and chest with kisses. The second Hob’s fingers nudge against his hole he just melts, and there's no sign of the cold stoical King left. He's gorgeous, needy, and Hob is absolutely obsessed with him.

The jewelled strap goes down an absolute treat, and Dream writes a letter the very next day to order more toys from the craftsmen who made the original set. When the new toys arrive, Hob takes great delight in slotting a solid ruby plug into his pretty King's hole. He's going to make Dream into a proper little slut and teach him to feel such joy in getting what he wants.

(And if what Dream also wants is to eat Hob out until he cries, well, that's more than ok too. His king deserves a good meal.)

[gabessquishytum]

War prize Hob but his country has weird attitudes to penetrative sex. Like it's all about the insertive partner, the receptive partner-it's not that they're not supposed to enjoy sex, but they're not supposed to want it and it's more like something done to please your partner.

Enter Dream and his obsession with making Hob cum. Hob is in distress about this. He's trying to be a good boy, focus on his lord and master's pleasure and only his, but Dream keeps distracting him.

One day Hob bursts into tears and asks why Dream is doing this to him? What did Hob ever do to him? What mind game is Dream playing that makes him interfere with Hob's job by making him lose his mind with orgasms?

It's Dream's turn to lose his mind because he's noticed Hob seems to curl in on himself during sex, which only made Dream want to make Hob lose himself to pleasure all the more. He assumed it was prudishness and pride but Hob thinks he's...a bad pet for enjoying sex? When that's literally his job?? What???

Awww lil baby Hob!! That would be a proper culture shock for him. He's trying really hard to be such a good boy in his new job, the last thing he wants is to be kicked out because Dream treats him REALLY well, better he ever had in his own country. There's nice food and clothes, and he gets to hang around the palace and make friends whenever Dream isn't keeping him busy. He's tried so hard to stop himself from enjoying sex so much - he's tried biting his lip, giving himself cramp or thinking about horrible things. But at the end of the night he always ends up enjoying himself and coming all over the silk sheets. Sure, Dream is having a good time too, but Hob feels like the worst person in the world for making sex about himself all the time. It should just be about Dream!

Imagine how much Dream laughs when he finds out that Hob is upset about THAT. Hob jumps out of the bed in a strop because Dream just won't stop chuckling, and it's SO humiliating. Dream has to stumble (naked) and follow Hob, apologising for laughing, it's just so funny that he'd think that Dream would think he's a bad sexual partner because he's... having a good time?!

Hob sniffles and mumbles that that's what it's like where he comes from. Dream can only shake his head fondly, and pull him back to bed.

He very patiently explains that making Hob cum makes him happy, and that he wants Hob to be his partner in bed - not his slave. Hob’s pleasure is a necessity, and it makes Dream feel so good every time he sees he's made him cum!!

Hob changes drastically after that conversation. There's no more hiding or curling him body away, or trying to stop himself from feeling good. In fact, he turns into a proper little bratty bottom who is very willing to tell Dream exactly what he wants. Dream absolutely loves to see his newly confident pet, and he doesn't hesitate to reward him: for every time Hob cums, he gets a new gift from the king. Pretty soon he's showered in jewels, gold, all manner of pretty things to show off exactly what a good boy he is.

And Hob definitely prefers the kind of sex he's having with Dream to any he's had before. Dream has made him loyal, just by giving him orgasms <3

[gabessquishytum]

There are lots of stories about the Nightmare King, and Hob has always been skeptical. Immortal? Ha. The son takes his father's name, and it’s not like anyone gets a good look under the terrifying helm on the battlefield.

Once captured and part of Dream's court, Hob doesn’t pay much attention to the passage of time. Eventually though he starts to notice some of the people around him getting older. But not everyone, not Dream's favorites. Not Hob. Hears whispers wondering how long “this one” will last. He asks a few questions and finally confronts Dream.

Dream is smug, seems almost cruel, when he assures Hob the stories are true, but no worries, if it’s too much, Hob only needs to say the word and he can age and die like all the others who chose Death over Dream.

There’s a lot there that Hob needs to think about. Later. Right now, he needs to show his king how very much and very enthusiastically he appreciates Dream's gift.

Mmm yes. I'm imagining Hob getting on his knees right there and then, and putting his mouth on the Nightmare King's beautiful cock. Dream is... shocked. Because no one ever chooses Dream over Death, and they certainly don't thank him for cursing them with immortality. Dream does it because he is lonely and because he wants to hang onto his favourite companions - a purely selfish motive. He certainly doesn't do it make anyone else happy.

And now there's Hob, staring up with those lovely brown eyes and worshipping Dream’s cock with his pretty mouth. Thanking Dream for such a peerless and generous gift. Dream is almost angry, to be honest. He wants people to suffer as he suffers! Instead there's his ridiculous little sex pet getting a kick out of living forever.

But he's not angry. Not really. His hand comes down on Hob’s head and strokes his hair. He tries to wrap his head around the fact that Hob wants to stay with him. That Hob... desires him. It seems incredible, and yet there's the proof. Hob’s hot mouth on his cock, easing him lovingly towards his climax.

Dream is silent, but after he's finished, he draws Hob close and up into his lap. Hob has chosen Dream, and it seems only fair that Dream should choose him in return... and he hasn't had a consort in a very long time.

Hob might just be about to get more than he bargained for.

[gabessquishytum]

Warprize Hob getting fed aphrodisiacs and fucked in front of the entire court by a fucking machine alllll day to help get him used to his new role

Yessss this is juicy.

Dream is actually being so kind and such a good master by letting his new pet practice with a machine. He can see that Hob has never been used as a slut before (and what a waste that is) so he needs training to adjust. What's better than putting Hob on a machine just adjacent to Dream’s throne so he can get used to his new life while Dream gets on with work? Hob also makes a nice decoration/entertainment for the rest of the court. He's so loud. Swearing, screaming, whining, begging. It's so much fun to watch him writhe and squirm against the impersonal touch of the machine!

Just when the drugs start to wear off, Dream makes sure to feed his pet a healthy handful of aphrodisiac laced candies. Hob can't resist taking food from the King's hand, bless him. Dream is very pleased with him - he's sure that Hob is almost ready to take up his proper role and start servicing Dream instead of the machine.

[gabessquishytum]

Warprize!Hob au where instead of being a Dom 24/7, Dream actually prefers to be a switch. After all, he's a king, his job is stressful, so as much as it's nice for him to take that stress out on his warprizes, sometimes he just wants to give up control. The problem is, he's a king, he is expected to be in total control 24/7, as much as that would wear on anyone.

One day, he's gifted Hob by his sister who had captured him off the battlefield. Perhaps Death had the chance to talk to him and thought his outlook on life would be good for Dream to learn from.

When Hob is first presented to Dream, Dream gives him a few options, he can serve as a submissive and serve Dream personally, he can work elsewhere in the castle, or he remain a prisoner. Of course Hob, ever the hedonist, takes one look at Dream and agrees to serve him personally.

Overtime, their dynamic develops and Dream often has Hob put on display for the court along with a handful of other warprizes that Dream has either captured himself, or been gifted. Hob, though, is quickly becoming Dream's favorite. Dream finds his outlook on life fascinating. So Dream starts letting Hob serve him more personally. Hob often spends the night in Dream's room and ends up as something of a confidante for him.

Which is how one night, maybe Hob has just given Dream a blow job, so Dream's tongue is looser than usual, Dream admits that being the one in charge all the time is wearing on him slightly. He enjoys it, but maybe sometimes it would also be nice to not be the one in control.

Hob doesn't say anything at first, he only remains where he is with his head in Dream's lap, quite enjoying how Dream is playing with his hair. Hob feels very honored though, that Dream trusts him enough to admit that he craves vulnerability.

A few nights later, Hob brings the subject up again. He tells Dream that he didn't used to only be a submissive partner, he says that people often expected him to be in control because he looks the part of a stereotypically masculine man. Hob tells Dream that while he prefers to be a submissive partner, he quite likes both. So he suggests that maybe they could come to some arrangement.

Dream, after thinking it over, probably having a crisis or two over the idea of letting go of control, even for just a little while, he decides that yes, he would like Hob to take control on occasion in private.

Which is how they come to the arrangment that in public, Dream is completely in control and Hob follows all his orders like the perfect sub. But in private Dream gives his control over to Hob, who he has come to trust more than he trusts himself. In private Hob helps Dream to just let go and feel. And the best part is for Dream, that no one else would ever know. His siblings and enemies will never be able to think less of him for letting go of his tightly gripped control, because thanks to Hob and their arrangment, no one will ever know, which allows him to run his kingdom better than he had previously. He's less stressed than he was so he makes better decisions and is overall happier.

OOO lovely lovely!!!! The beeeeeeest of both worlds <3

I love the idea that in public, Dream gets to show off his power and dominance by how he acts with Hob. He's got this aura of total control which really heightens his reputation as a firm but fair monarch. Ambassadors carry stories back to their own lands about Dream and his favourite pet, how he demands total respect and punishes his warprize for any bad behaviour. When people think of Dream they imagine a stern disciplinarian, not someone who youd want as an enemy!

But then like, behind the scenes, the whole situation gets flipped onto its head! Dream gets to be Hob’s subby pillow princess (king) and he gets absolutely everything that he wants, while Hob is firmly in control. It wasn't easy in the beginning, but together they've slowly worked to find out what Dream likes, and it soon becomes clear that just letting go and being Hob’s good boy for an hour every day is doing WONDERS for his mental and physical health. His blood pressure is down, he's sleeping more, and he actually looks like he wants to be alive at least some of the time! And the best part is that no one has to know how much he likes sitting on Hob’s lap and having his pretty pink nipples played with until he cries and begs to be allowed something more.

Death was very very smart to send Hob to her little brother and although she doesn't say so, she's very pleased to see that her efforts to Make Dream Relax are working well <3

[gabessquishytum]

Absolutely stupid idea, but I saw a tumblr post about a jester and couldn't help but think of Warprize Hob making a joke in front of the entire court that Dream is impotent bc he hasn't knocked him up yet and while the entire court laughs and laughs, Dream seethes. So he sets out to prove his little prize wrong and bans anyone from touching Hob until he knocks him up

-🤜 anon

I know exactly which post you're talking about, I'll find it later and link it the comments for those who haven't seen it yet 😂😂

I absolutely love this concept, completely unironically. Cheeky sarcastic Hob is one of my favourite things to write and I just LOVE the idea of him taking the joke a little too far... so of course Dream has to do something about it.

In theory Hob is capable of getting pregnant, but although he hasn't been actively trying to stop it from happening, it just hasn't. Yet. He's not super young any more and it's not like he's been trying to get pregnant. All that changes, though. After that one little joke, Dream suddenly gets very interested in Hob’s fertility.

He sends Hob to several royal doctors who all pronounce that he's still viable to get pregnant. Dream instructs that Hob should be provided with supplements and herbs that might increase his likelihood of conception. With the help of the doctors, he also starts tracking Hob’s cycle. Before he knows it, Hob is being bent over three times each day and having his cunt filled up with Dream’s cum. Dream used to fuck his mouth and arse too, but now he's hyperfocused on his pussy. He wants as much of his cum in there as possible.

And all this would be very tiresome for Hob, but... he's into it. Very very into it. He loves that Dream is so focused on putting a baby in him. He spends all night beside Dream, rubbing his own belly and hoping that this will be the night, this will be the time that they make a baby.

And just as Hob is starting to get worried that he won't conceive, and then maybe Dream will get tired of him... he starts feeling some telltale symptoms. The doctors wait a little while before telling Dream for sure, but soon it's unmistakable: his favourite little warprize is pregnant!

As soon as Hob starts showing, he's pretty much paraded in front of the whole court while Dream watches smugly. Now no will ever joke about his ability to sire a child again. But when he's not flaunting his potency to the entire kingdom, Dream really is a doting baby-daddy. Hob has the best food, servants waiting on him 24/7, and he has almost all of Dream’s attention. Anything that he wants, he gets. Including plenty of fucking (especially in his other holes, he really missed it when Dream was so zoned in on his cunt). Hob could literally get away with murder at this point, all he'd have to do is flutter his eyelashes and stick out his belly.

Is Dream developing feelings for his sassy little warprize? Maybe. But Hob can't deny that he's absolutely obsessed with his king (and carrying his baby). He's going to make sure that Dream gets him pregnant over and over - no matter how many jokes he has to tell to get there.

[gabessquishytum]

Omegaverse War Prize AU (dubcon, slow burn enemies to lovers, mpreg?) (cuntless hob, sorry y'all) :

Hob is an (immortal) Omega, currently working as a mercenary and fighting in the latest war. For whatever reason, he's captured and brought to the enemy King's palace- and his chambers. He would have been kicking and screaming but unfortunately for him, he's bound and gagged.

He's left there, alone, until (magical, Endless?) Alpha King Dream finally shows up. And maybe it's a combination of the stress and alpha pheromones, maybe he was given something to force it to start, but: Hob enters his heat.

Dream... Dream can't resist. The scent is too strong, too good- it calls to him like none other.

By the time he manages to remove the bindings, undress both of them, and place Hob onto the bed, Hob is completely gone. Any fight he had left in him disappeared when Dream first licked him, right along his scent glands. All he wants now is an Alpha, this Alpha who smells so lovely and can apparently hold him down like it's nothing.

They spend a week like that, Hob's heat being prolonged both by the Mating Bite he received the first night (on the first knot) and Dream's subsequent rut.

The exhaustion and hunger he feels is the only reason Hob allows Dream to bathe and feed him, after.

And Dream... apologizes. Says that not being able to control himself is no excuse, and that he thinks the whole thing was an attempt to distract him. Explains that it's not possible to let Hob go now- not when he's carrying their child, and Dream's heir.

Hob stabs him in the leg.

(and so begins a 9 month long slow burn of enemies becoming lovers <3 there's drama, there's getting to know each other, there's stabbing, attempted murders & kidnapping, and ultimately: shy kisses and love confessions <3 <3 <3)

Omg the DRAMA, the ROMANCE the ANGST of this, oh hell yeah.

Hob is fucking feral, ok. He's not a good omega (whatever that means), there's a reason he's however many centuries old and has never bothered to settle down. He enjoys being a soldier, he likes fighting and fucking.

So. If he's got to be mated to this alpha, then he's gonna get fucked as much as he requires. Which is a lot. Instead of cringing and cowering, Hob climbs into Dream’s lap every morning and gets himself a good ole knotting. And then he starts making himself an absolute problem for Dream to deal with.

He bites. He stabs (if he can get his hands on anything sharp). He swears and spits at anyone and everyone. No one can really do anything about it because Hob is the king’s omega, so he can pretty much get away with anything. He's doing his utmost to make Dream’s life hell to be honest but Dream? Doesn't seem to bothered about it.

Because Dream knows that Hob doesn't want to be here. There's nothing to bring them together except bitterness, and a child. Thus, Hob more or less gets away with murder... until an actual (attempted) murder happens, and Hob suddenly realises: oh shit. I might be in love with my alpha.

He sees the assassination attempt coming, and his soldier's instincts have him scrambling. He doesn't think about his own safety or even that of the baby. He shoves the would-be murderer aside, knocks the blade away and wrestles the assassin to the ground. Dream stands there in utter shock, bleeding from a superficial wound at his shoulder and watching as Hob nearly tears out the throat of the man who just tried to kill the king.

Dream’s guards eventually drag the assassin away and Hob sits on the floor, holding his stomach and staring up at Dream in a kind of horrified fascination. Dream promptly joins him on the floor and they just. Cling to each other. They've fucked a hundred times by now but Hob has never been held by his alpha like this.

And of course Dream is like "you know.... I can't die.... and that was completely unnecessary" and Hob bites him. But he refuses to leave Dream’s side after that, and it becomes fairly obvious to everyone that love has bloomed.

By the time Hob delivers their child, they're absolutely inseparable, and Hob has command of Dream’s armies. A lot of decent compromises, and a very successful marriage ensue.