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nicksolemnlyswears · 7 months

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WAYS TO DESTRESS

summary: after a long day, all coriolanus wants to do is blow some steam off. nothing will stop him from getting what he wants…not even your sleepy state

pairing: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, somnophilia, dub non-con, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, pussy spanking, belly bulge (?), LISTEN I KNOW ITS UNLIKELY BUT LET ME BE UNHINGED, a bit rough nothing too crazy, get your holy water though, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please)

a/n: this came to me the moment i opened my eyes this morning. pure filth. i shouldn't be proud but i am. goes to show how much coriolanus is plaguing my thoughts day and night. my new little hyperfixation. a new villain to add to my collection <3

PT. 2

requests open ✨

All Coriolanus feels is anger. It's been pumping through his veins throughout most of the day, almost causing him to lose his composure at all the wrong places. He can never afford to fuck up. He already did it once, and second chances are nonexistent in the Capitol.

He owes a lot to Dr. Gaul. After all, she saw the value in Coriolanus. She saw right through him and his faux kindness and unearthed his true wickedness. He simply needed a nudge in the right direction.

While working for with her is an honor, it is hardly easy. Like all aspects of his life, he's had to adapt to how she runs her lab. Coriolanus is hardly a follower; he's a leader, but as long as he remains under the tutelage of Dr. Gaul, he will have to follow her orders. Which means he has to talk when spoken to and perform how she expects him to.

There are days when it all becomes too much. His pride rises to the surface, forcing him to stifle it as best as he can before he does something he regrets.

He has to think of the scrutinizing gaze of his peers waiting for him to fail. As much as they pretend to be his friend, they want him to make a mistake so they can rise to the occasion. He won't allow that.

His apartment is silent when he steps in. The lavish decor is obscured by the lack of illumination. It's to be expected, seeing it's well past midnight.

Leaving his coat by the door, Coriolanus walks towards the bedroom. He needs to destress now, or he'll carry all his anger and frustration on his shoulders for the rest of the week. He can't have that. He can't lose control and look bad in front of Dr. Gaul and the others.

In the master bedroom, he finds you lying on the soft mattress, tangled in the silky bedsheets. He watches your chest rise and fall with gentle breaths, your pouty lips slightly ajar. It's a shame he's going to disturb your sleep, but he needs to let off some steam. That's one of the numerous reasons he has his pretty little girlfriend.

Coriolanus unbuttons the red waistcoat and removes his shoes, leaving them in the armchair. As he approaches your side of the bed, he notices the bright orange bottle on the nightstand and your book thrown haphazardly on the floor.

It's rare for you to take sleep aid medication because you hate how they knock you out. You only take them when you've had a particularly rough day. It seems Coriolanus is not alone in this. Today has been bad for both you and him.

Still, his plan remains the same. Coriolanus leans over you, kissing your forehead gingerly before his lips continue to trail down to kiss your cheek and lips. You don't stir with the soft touches.

Coriolanus darkly chuckles. It's not often he gets to do this. He'll take it as a treat for his patience throughout the day. He'd say the universe is working in his favor if he believed in such silly things.

Having you so pliable and willing in his hands excites him to no end. Lying on the bed, he digs his head on your shoulder, leaving marks for you to find in the morning. It spurs him on to hear little gasps falling from your lips.

"Beautiful and all mine," he mutters into the silent room as he lowers down the thin straps of your night dress to reveal your chest.

Coriolanus takes his time with your body. Even while asleep, it responds to his touch. He sucks and squeezes on your breasts harshly, biting down on the stiff peaks of your nipples.

He's not as gentle this time around compared to other times in the past. Then, you were simply asleep; now, you're completely doped out. He will miss your whines and the way you berate him.

Coriolanus continues down your body until he settles between your legs. "Fuck, darling," he audible groans when he lifts up your nighty to find a patch on your panties. Who would've thought you'd be as responsive to him while asleep.

He gives into his urges as he presses his nose against your center, smelling your arousal and licking up the wet fabric with his tongue. He only parts for a moment as he roughly slides the thin fabric off.

With you like this, there is no reason to tease. He doesn't have to kiss your thighs or hold himself back. Coriolanus can truly delve into what he wants without a spectacle.

It's why he buries his tongue into your wet cunt as soon as he has the chance. He holds your limp thighs on his shoulders as he presses himself against you, his blue eyes closing in ecstasy at the taste.

Soft noises- moans- come from above him as you slightly stir in your drug-induced sleep. While Coriolanus suck on your pearl of nerves, he wonders what you're dreaming about and if he's the protagonist as well.

His hips roll onto the mattress underneath, soothing the ache on his cock. He could go straight to fucking you but wants this to last. He needs to keep his mind busy, and eating you out is the answer.

Unconsciously, you grind your cunt on his tongue, chasing your release. Coriolanus smiles at this and rewards you with fucking you with his tongue. He's determined to make you cum all over it.

"Oh," he hears you whine when his nose rubs on your sensitive clit. He knows you're close. He feels it in the way your thighs are suddenly clenching around him.

There is no doubt in his mind you're still asleep. If you were awake, you'd be gripping his hair like a vice and calling his name for everyone to hear. You'd be begging him to fuck you silly.

Coriolanus laps up your juices like a starving man when you cum. Despite living in poverty, he never felt the need to act in such a way until he tasted you for the first time. He treats his sweet little girlfriend's cunt like a delicacy.

He stops himself before he almost makes you cum again as he slurps and sucks on your cunt. From up close, he can see the way your clit twitches under the pleasure. He leaves a bruise that will turn purple by morning on the inside of your thigh. It'll be a telltale sign he was there, devouring you while you soundly slept. A reminder you're his to use whenever he pleases.

Taking the rest of his clothes off, Coriolanus returns to your sleeping body. He pumps his cock in his fist as he looks at all the bruises and marks he left behind, and you'll have to hide because you can't have him seem like a pervert in front of his classmates.

Kneeling on the bed, he wraps your legs around his hips. He teases your wet cunt with the fat head of his cock, nudging over your clit repeatedly. He continues this until his cock is slick with your juices. As an extra, he spits down on your cunt, spreading his saliva over you. Not because you need lubrication but because he likes the sight of him on you in every which way.

No matter how many times Coriolanus has fucked you throughout your two years of being together, he's always had trouble pushing his cock in. He has to take a deep breath when he bottoms out as your cunt tries to choke him out. It's one of his favorite things about you, a constant reminder of the day he took your innocence.

It's only when he begins rocking his hips into you that you give any indication of waking up.

"What?" You whine as panic settles into you. Your brain isn't working properly. You're hazy and confused. Not knowing where you are, you get scared, and your heart races.

Coriolanus holds your hands as you begin struggling. As he leans down to talk to you, he pins you down, leaving you impaled with his cock. He immensely enjoys the struggle but can't have you screaming out in panic.

"It's just me, darling," he coo's in your ear, nuzzling his nose against your face. It works as your heart begins settling down.

"Coryo?" You sniff with tears in your eyes as your panic is quickly swept away. You try to speak, but the pills leave your tongue heavy and your brain foggy.

"Yes, your Coryo," he responds, kissing your cheek sweetly.

You've stopped struggling and spread your legs once again, just how he likes it. He even feels you clenching down purposefully around Coriolanus' cock. You're no saint; you enjoy making it hard for him even in your drugged-out state.

"Relax, darling. Go back to sleep," he hushes you, softly rocking into you.

Your eyes are already closed as he utters the words. You have no choice in the matter. Granted, now you sleep calmer, knowing it's Coryo touching you and making you feel food.

Coriolanus calls your name once, twice, and there is no response. You're back with the sandman, peacefully asleep. He takes it as a sign to keep fucking you.

Kneeling back on the bed, Coriolanus brings up your thighs to touch your chest. Your pretty cunt is on full display, showcasing the hues of pink and glistening fluids that shine under the lowlights of the bedroom.

Coriolanus licks the pads on his fingers before they smack down on your center. The only way it'll look even better is if it had that familiar twinge of red. He aims for the center, straight at your pearl, and smacks his hand down several times.

It manages to wake you again, eyes hooded with sleep, staring at him and complaints falling from your lips. Each time the 'smack' reverberates and you flinch, he soothes the sting, spreading the clear strings of arousal that drip from your hole.

Only when your cunt is flushed red and your clit is puffed out of its fleshy covering, does he pull you down on his cock. He fucks in and out of you mercilessly, addicted to the way your tight walls hug his cock even as he pulls out.

He glances towards your face and notes you're back to sleep. If it were up to him, you'd take the pills more often just so he could find you waiting for him asleep, naked on the bed. A real-life doll of his own.

The sound of skin slapping and his desperate moans and grunts fill the room, along with some of your smaller ones. He doesn't tend to be so vocal; he prefers listening to you beg for him, but with no one to hear him, he lets it all out.

Coriolanus places a hand on your lower tummy, pressing down to feel himself through your walls. It's an erotic thing to feel his cock slipping in and out, reaching the deepest parts of you.

He slows the pace of his thrusting, opting to go harder and deeper, just where he can make out the bump on your pelvis of his cock head.

The pressure Coryo is causing doesn't go unnoticed by you. Groggily, you open your eyes to find him with his head dipped down, whispering profanities to himself, a pretty sheen of sweat covering his fair skin.

"Mmm, Co-coryo," you moan, catching his attention.

With a glint in his eyes, he grabs your hand, placing it where you can feel it too, his fingers lacing through yours as he holds it down, "Feel this? No one will ever get you to feel like I do, darling. I'm going to ruin you for all others. Not like I'll let you leave anyways."

It's never crossed your mind to leave Coriolanus. Not for a second. The moment you set eyes on him, you knew he was it, and the ring on your finger is a promise of that. It's why you let him use you as he pleases.

You babble out a response as the darkness consumes you once more. By morning, you'll barely remember a thing as a side effect of the pills, but Coryo won't let you forget.

The mixture of your relaxed state, Coriolanus' hand pressing down on you, and the angle of his thrusts allow for something that hasn't happened before. Something he'll enjoy for the years to come.

As he viciously snaps his hips to chase his release, you wiggle under him. There are words on your heavy tongue neither can make out, a warning.

"Shh," Coriolanus quiets you down, focusing on the way you're milking his cock for all that his worth.

He's in for a surprise when a particularly angled thrust causes you to squirt around him. A stream of your juices covering his cock and abdomen. Although he falters for a moment, he quickly pulls out and rubs at your clit, causing a smaller stream to leak out of you.

His night has become a hundred times better. His eyes widen in wonder as his brain creates new ways to have you and make you do it again. "This is going to be fun."

When you wake up in the morning, you don't remember what happened, but you know something did. It's in the way your cunt aches and how thick cum runs down your leg when you get up.

Brief, blurry memories surface as you shower. Truly, you didn't care. If anything, you're upset you missed out on the fun and can't remember the pleasure. Ultimately, you trust Coriolanus and that he won't hurt you.

You feel well-rested as you dress and make breakfast for the two of you. There is an undeniable ache in your cunt, but that's always welcomed. Your problems from yesterday are only a quiet hum in a dark corner of your brain.

"My love," you softly call out to Coriolanus, touching his naked shoulder.

"Good morning," he says with his eyes closed, although there is an undeniable grin on his lips. All the stress he felt yesterday has dissipated, leaving a pleasant feeling in his chest.

"Good morning to you, too," you giggle as you lean down to catch his lips in a kiss. There is a tangy taste attached to them that you recognize well. "Had a good night, did you?"

"I certainly did. Do you remember anything?" He asks, sitting up on the bed. The falling bedsheets reveal his toned chest and stomach. Gently, you grab the tray with food and place it on his lap.

"Barely," you scoff, "It's a shame." You technically haven't had sex with Coriolanus in two long weeks. His stunt from last night did nothing to satiate you or your mind that keeps picturing him in all sorts of compromising positions.

Coriolanus hums as he takes a bite of toast. You know him well enough to know he's amused that you don't remember and that he's hiding something.

"What is it?" You prod, brushing a strand of pale blonde hair away from his eyes.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug. He's making you work for it. Coryo loves his games, after all.

"Coryo," you speak his name with a warning.

He takes his time, sipping on the glass placed on the tray. "I just…I didn't know you could squirt," he reveals cheekily, stabbing his fork on a piece of fruit.

"What? That's because I don't," you say, taken aback.

A crease forms between your eyebrows. You and Coryo are not ashamed to talk about sex. It took you by surprise at first because he always presents himself so elegantly and no-nonsense. Behind the scenes, though, when he's with you, he's open to discussing everything he wishes to try and his likes and dislikes.

You, in return, have been the same. Admitting that you've never been able to squirt and might never be able to. It's been a topic of conversation numerous times, seeing as it's something Coryo has always been curious about.

"Yes, you do. Last night, you squirted all over my cock and my fingers and my tongue," he boasts with a smirk as he remembers all the times he made you cum after that.

"I did?"

"You were such a good girl for me, darling," Coriolanus responds, putting the tray of food to the side and cupping your face, "All you had to do was relax."

"Hard to do when you're edging me for hours," you roll your eyes at him. Edging you is just one of the fun ways he tortures you.

"Don't be a spoilsport," he frowns, gripping your face harder before planting another kiss on your lips.

"It's not fair. I can't remember anything," you softly murmur. It's a real damn shame you won't remember the first time you squirt or the face Coryo made at the realization.

"Poor thing. I can show you how to do it again. I practiced last night a couple of times," he whispers in your ear, kissing down to your pulse point, "But I can't right now, or I'll be late."

"Huh?" You dumbly respond, enthralled by his words, imagining all the pleasure he'll give you.

"Thanks for breakfast," Coriolanus says, standing from the bed and heading into the bathroom butt-naked.

You watch after him lustfully and angrily, forced to continue your morning as if nothing happened.

In less than an hour, Coriolanus is ready to return to Dr. Gaul's laboratory. He has to check for any progress in his experiment before heading to the university for his classes.

He sits you on the bed before he leaves, though, to show you something 'important.' "I'll see you tonight," he says, kissing the crown of your head and turning on the TV.

The screen shows you lying on your back, whining helplessly as Coryo slips two fingers into your cunt rapidly. The rings on his fingers and the palm of his hand glisten with your sticky juices.

He did not lie about your new ability as you watch your hole leak clear liquid. The Coryo on the screen, who had been encouraging you with lewd words, eagerly attaches his mouth to catch it all. When he pulls back, his chin is dripping with your release.

Watching yourself in that fucked out state and Coryo behaving so obscenely gets your silk panties wet. Glancing at the clock, you note you have 30 minutes till you have to be at the door.

In no time, you're spread out on the bed with your hand under your university skirt, panties pushed to the side fucking two fingers into your cunt. Your eyes are focused entirely on the screen, rewatching the clip.

thanks for reading! i hope you liked it!

part two for coryo making her squirt while she's actually conscious?

#fanfiction #smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction

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coryothesub · 4 months

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Too Much

nsfw / mdni / sub!coryo / dom!reader

“This is too much, I can't…” Coryo exclaimed in a shaky, desperate voice. Tears running down his face, hair a complete mess, his shaky hand wrapped around his cock just before cumming hard and shooting his load all over your snow-white bedsheets.

His whole body was trembling through his orgasm as he sank down on the sheets, completely spent, broken and powerless.

You were watching him, sitting on the bed, resting your back against the pillows, your hand between your thighs lazily playing with your clit.

The sight of him falling apart for the second time in a row was incredibly arousing, and you were already moist, but not completely satisfied. You needed your release so badly therefore you had no choice but torture him some more.

“Coryo, c’mere!” you instructed.

Coryo raised his head and looked back at you, eyes glossy, you noticed that his lower lip was trembling.

“Mommy please, I can't do this anymore,” he whined.

“So you want to leave me wanting and dry?” you raised your eyebrow realizing it was time to switch on the manipulation mode. “Good boys never do that.”

“No, no, I just… It's too sensitive,” he got on his knees and crawled to the other side of the bed, settling himself between your legs. So sweet and vulnerable.

You brushed a sweaty curl off his glistening forehead, and gave him a soft kiss.

“It's okay baby, I will help you.”

You wrapped your hand around his flaccid cock and brushed your thumb over the bright pink tip. Coryo let out a sharp whimper and you noticed another tear breaking free from the corner of his eye. You leaned forward and kissed it away, salty liquid teasing your lips.

“Was it too much?” you asked, peppering Coryo’s cheeks with soft kisses.

Coryo nodded.

“Mommy's pussy will feel so warm and good around you, we just need to get you ready, okay?”

“I know you have another one in you. You're always such a good boy for me,” you hummed, pumping his cock slowly.

Coryo's icy blue eyes took in your facial expression as you looked at him with softness and affection. You felt his member growing big and hard in your hand.

“You're so good for me, angel, such a good boy, holding on so well.”

You kissed his neck harshly causing a whimper to escape his lips. You could see a pink blotch on the soft pale skin, knowing it would leave a purple mark later. You smirked to yourself. Everyone will see that he’s yours.

Coryo's head fell on your shoulder. You caressed his cheek gently and guided him further down. He peppered kisses along your collarbone, then wrapped his lips around your nipple and started sucking hungrily.

You settled yourself above his now hard cock and inserted the tip in your wet warmth, gasping sharply at the sensation.

Coryo sucked your titties humming blissfully, he looked so happy and calm. You caressed his messy hair, establishing an easy pace sliding up and down his overstimulated dick.

You threw your head back and moaned into the air as your warm, wet pussy embraced his impressive length.

Coryo's breath sped up, you could feel it warm and impetuous against your nipples, hard and sensitive from his saliva mixed with the cool air.

He looked up at your face adoringly.

“Mommy, this feels so good. Your pussy feels so good around me.”

“You're doing great, angel. Look at you, barely holding on, but still letting me fuck my cunt on your gorgeous cock. Such a good babyboy.”

You showered him with praise and put your titty back in his mouth.

He was rocking his hips up softly, mindless and happy, enjoying your warm cunt clenching around him while sucking on your titties happily. It felt so good, the euphoric feeling of arousal took over his body again although a few moments ago he thought it to be impossible.

You were so tight around him, moaning and panting, finally nearing your own release. You wrapped your arms tightly around his fragile frame, sinking your face into his hair and breathing in his sweet rosy scent as you came hard around his cock.

“Oh, Coryo!” you moaned, eyes closed in pleasure.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum! Again…” Coryo whispered against your skin as he finally came inside you, filling you with long awaited warmth.

Still hugging him tightly you let him collapse on you, panting softly, his now soft dick still inside you. He was too exhausted to even pull it out.

He looked at you, eyes were full of tears, but his lips adorned a radiant smile.

“I did it, mommy!”

“You did good, babyboy. So good. Only you can make me feel like this.”

#coriolanus snow #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #thg #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #thg tbosas #blurb #cts post

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lenreli · 4 months

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endless pawns playing a fixed game

Explicit, 7.8k, Dream/Hob. Reacher-inspired AU with an ex-spy Hob and mafia kid Dream!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

[AO3]

When Hob took the Endless family bodyguard position, it was mainly for the paycheck. And also a lack of breaking kneecaps for collecting debts, which he does feel some way about. More that it’s a waste of his considerable skill, but nonetheless.

Recent hushed rumours around the estate have made the Endless bosses more paranoid for their well-being, so he’s gathered in his time at the vast place.

The bosses are ― well, efficient mob, and just generally terrible people, as evidenced by shouting matches featuring Night or Time, which surely can’t be their real names―

Then again, with their children’s names, with the many different aged children also getting into screaming matches with the parents, Hob considers his lack of family a blessing, in cases like this.

The kids, with all sorts of D-name, are varied, and from what he gathered, either orphans gathered up for some good PR, or due to some twisted sense of actually wanting a family. Or maybe they were from people and former mob bosses the parents killed and raised, which would be an impressive sort of fucked up. The kids are mostly a non-issue for him as he does his job, and usually walks past a few of them throughout his days―

He’s used to seeing Death’s much-too-kind smile, to Destiny being cloistered up in the library, to Desire’s comings and goings at all hours, and surely he must’ve seen Dream somewhere before that night of the attempted poisoning.

As he looks around the room as some poor schmuck is taken, screaming and pleading, he catches blue eyes and is momentarily stunned. As Desire talks to Dream, Hob gathers that stoic, pale man mainly lives around the art quarters ― which would explain why Hob only briefly remembers him. Plus, the art quarters are very dark and moody, and this is probably the first time he’s seen Dream in actual good light, arms crossed as he talks quietly with Desire.

As he stares at the cut of Dream’s suit, the blue eyes stare at him for a moment, and Hob catalogues the minute expressions of annoyance as Dream talks with Desire. He definitely knows those blue eyes, have felt them following him since he arrived at the estate, a background awareness of everything else, and Hob considers Dream’s pink, plush lips, low voice begging and screaming, pale skin splashed with―

“Gadling!” His boss calls and he looks over, Dusk folding her arms and giving him an unimpressed look, “you’re needed.”

Blinking, he puts his hands into the pockets of his pants, “what about Cori?” He’s pretty sure Cori actually gets off on the torture in his job, and he’d hate to take that from him.

“Who the fuck knows. Hence, you,” Dusk drawls, and she gives him an extra glare for good measure, eyes narrowing as she looks between him and Dream. Hob nods and suppresses a smirk, thinking of how cute it is that she thinks her disapproval, or even some don’t fuck who you work for would stop him.

If there’s something Hob likes about his job, it’s that there’s always plots under schemes to uncover, always people to kill ― and now, Dream’s blue eyes staring at him occasionally, like they’re drawn to him. And maybe when Hob feels like a pointless one night stand, he gets a pale twink with dark hair and bites into his neck, replacing the high whines with Dream’s deep voice, the coarse black hair he tugs with the soft-looking spikes of Dream’s hair. Just for a bit of fun.

Hob’s always one for looking for the bright things in life, especially after getting out of his former job.

The point is, his life is pretty good, potential firing squad due to some light treason notwithstanding.

Sometimes the goons of the estate think that the Endless kids should learn how to defend themselves, which would be good, he’s sure, if said goons weren’t such idiots when it comes to teaching them. And today they’ve managed to drag a scowling Dream out of his art quarters, which is why he’s actually witnessing their poor attempts at teaching today.

“Are you going to keep judging, or are you going to give a few pointers?” The big man frowns at him. Hob blinks and crosses his arms, leaning more on the wall as he glances at Dream, hair ruffled and scowling.

“I’m not the teaching type,” he says with a shrug, and the goon scowls, no doubt angry at Hob as he barks orders at Dream, who looks just as impressed as Hob does with him.

The subpar teaching makes for good entertainment, and Hob briefly considers maybe giving Dream private lessons. Or maybe not so private, if only for the good screaming and whining to be echoed throughout the grounds.

At last, the goon gives up with a huff, and Hob stares at the bruise on Dream’s cheek, the colour matching the other’s lips as Dream straightens out his ratty black clothes, small specks of blue paint on the bottom of Dream’s shirt.

Dream looks at him, stepping closer, absurdly plush mouth opening―and a phone rings. Dream frowns and takes out a flip phone, answering it curtly, then shortly leaving.

A week after that, something is wrong. Dream has been one for Wednesday meetings with his sister in the library, and nothing. Only Death, looking faintly worried.

Then a ransom call comes in, and Hob only gets that Dream’s been kidnapped before he holds his anger tightly, the Endless parents not even worried as the modulated voice lists their demands. Many of the fellow security and goons give him skittish looks, who have been wordlessly ribbing him for taking a liking to Dream.

Hob says nothing to the Endless parents as he leaves the room, ringing up some of his contacts to get something, and quickly ― before he decides they need some persuasion.

In the end, it takes seven days for him to find out that Burgess, another mob boss, recently hooked up electricity to an abandoned building, the night before the ransom call. Hob briefly considers going to Fawney Rig, where Burgess’s own mansion is, then considers after, once Dream is back at the estate.

For all the heightened security that the Endless parents put in, they’re remarkably unconcerned that their own son is kidnapped, whether out of neglect, or simply because of the people around working on it, Hob is unclear about. And, well, if they didn’t give him his income, he’d consider adding more bodies to the one’s he’s already planning on.

When he tells security of his plans, they offer to give him some goons as ‘back-up’ and Hob bites back a scoff. “I can handle it myself,” he frowns, glaring at the man until he steps back, nodding sharply.

The plan is to go through the abandoned building and kill everyone that’s not Dream. A simple one, but it’s never failed him yet.

Hob is almost offended at the front door, when he goes in to see five rent-a-thugs, nothing approaching a challenge as he methodically makes his way through them. With two already dead, he uses the body of one as a shield, gunshots ringing out, but soon silenced by one of his daggers through the shooter’s heart.

The other two go down with more daggers thrown, and once he’s collected and cleaned them off with fabric from the cheap suits of the men, he puts them away and sighs.

Unsurprisingly, the other rooms are easy enough to go through, finally finding Dream tied up on a chair, with two men near the door, guns raised at him. Hob puts on a disarming smile, putting his hands up. “I’m going to be nice, and tell you how you die,” he says, smiling brightly. Then men are shaking, guns rattling quietly in their grips. “You,” he nods to the man on his right, “are going to try and shoot me, and then I’m going to go after your buddy here and kill him with a clean knife to the heart. Then I’m going to take it out of his body and throw it into your heart, and you’ll both be dead before you hit the ground.”

The men seem even more freaked out, sharing scared looks ― but this isn’t about them. Maybe he wanted to show off, just a little bit, for the captive audience. Dream’s blue eyes are wide, mouth gagged with black fabric― and the man on his right moves, and it goes like he said, pulling out his dagger and cleaning it off the dead man’s body before stowing it away.

“Hello, Dream,” the other man’s eyes go even wider, a muffled sound going through the gag as he walks up to him, leaning over the chair to cut loose the ropes holding Dream. “We haven’t met yet officially, but you can call me Hob,” he smiles as he rips off the gag, then goes to the ropes around Dream’s legs, cutting them off as he stands up. Dream also gets up, face even more pale ― and Hob’s brows furrow as he touches the corner of Dream’s mouth, where a bruise is. “Maybe I should’ve tortured them more,” he remarks.

“Thank you,” Dream croaks, eyes a dark, deep blue and Hob hums, stepping away as he rubs his thumb, still feeling the soft skin under it.

“Let’s get you back home, Endless.” Hob gives Dream a once-over, finding nothing out of place with the black suit, or the way Dream’s holding himself.

“Is it just you?” Dream asks as they step outside of the room, and Dream stops, looking at the bodies lining the rooms as they go through each one. Dream always takes a moment to stop, looking at the various bodies, wide eyes leaving them to look at him ― and his clean suit, not a speck of blood on him.

“I was offered back-up, but they’d just get in the way,” he says with a shrug. Dream nods as they exit the building, and Hob opens the back car door, then stops Dream from getting in. “Burgess met you, didn’t he? Probably to gloat, he seems like the type of asshole to do that,” Dream steps back and nods as Hob leans on the car door. “Do you expressly order for me to kill him for you, or do I have to do it without it?”

Dream’s mouth moves, opening and shutting before something hard settles over Dream’s expression, “you can kill him,” Dream says, voice breathless and Hob nods. Moving out of the way, he gets in on the other side as Dream slides in, looking at the dark screen between them and Mervyn, the driver, starts the car.

Dream still looks shocked, wide-eyed and flushed cheeks, and Hob considers the effects of kidnapping, which are never good. Or maybe it was all the dead bodies, especially considering Dream maybe doesn’t have much experience with that.

Hob watches as Dream takes deep breaths, suit jacket being thrown off, then shoes joining them, and Hob tilts his head, looking at pale collarbones, sweaty and glistening as Dream undoes the top buttons of the shirt, black a contrast to the white of his skin. “I need you,” Dream says roughly, eyes mostly black, and Hob blinks as Dream pulls him closer by his collar, “to fuck me,” Dream states before kissing him, biting into his lips. Or maybe, Hob thinks nonsensically, grabbing onto Dream’s waist as the other man slides into his lap.

Hob blinks, eyebrows raised, “no complaints here, just as long as you don’t regret it,” he breathes, fingers sliding up under a black shirt, and he watches as Dream shivers, bony limbs pushing him down onto the backseat.

“Definitely not,” Dream says sharply, cold hands tearing open his blazer, then waistcoat and shirt, and Dream pauses as his blazer is thrown off, eyes zeroed in on the bracers around his biceps ― and the daggers in them. There’s a huff as Dream takes them off, then the bracers and his waistcoat and shirt, and there’s another huff as Dream stares at the harness around his shoulders, the guns on them. “Hob.”

Suppressing a smile, he shrugs as he toes his pointed shoes off, Dream still on his lap as he watches Hob pull out a tiny syringe, then a few small daggers and puts them on his other weapons on the floor.

“A syringe?” Dream asks, leaning closer to look.

“Lethal poison,” he says, sitting up to sit against the car side, his hands going under Dream’s shirts to take it off, pale skin and pink nipples, and he nibbles up Dream’s neck, restraining himself from drawing blood as Dream whimpers. “This too, plus another, but you’ll have to take my pants off for that,” he whispers into Dream’s ear as he tugs the hair tie off his wrist, throwing it onto his pile of weapons.

Dream makes a sound, cold hands getting warmer as they tug at Hob’s pants, “a hair tie?” The other man asks incredulously, belt being taken off to join the rest of the weapons as Dream takes a moment to stare at the line of tiny daggers lining the inside of the belt.

“The hair tie can also turn into barbed wire,” he offers with a smirk, “and not that, I forgot about those,” he shrugs, arousal a constant, pleasant buzz with how Dream is sitting on him. Dream mutters something, words incomprehensible as Dream sits up to tug his pants off, the underwear, knives strapped with harnesses on his thighs thrown with everything else, and Dream’s look of annoyance makes Hob bite back a laugh.

“Is that all? Anything else?” Dream hisses, and Hob does actually smirk as Dream tugs at his chest hair. Hob hums and touches the crotch of the other’s pants, feeling a wet spot already as he unbuttons them, clearly not as turned off by all the weapons.

“Not today,” he says. Tugging Dream closer by the zip of his pants, there’s a broken sound as they kiss filthily, and Hob’s already addicted to the feel of Dream’s smooth skin as his nails scratch down thighs, Dream’s lower clothes soon joining the rest. “I’m not taking you raw,” he drawls, smiling as Dream tugs his hair and pulls back with a huff.

Dream mutters some more and reaches for the back of the passenger seat, revealing a compartment filled with small packets of lube and condoms. Desire, probably, Hob’s mind supplies as he takes some of the lube and a condom. “I thought this would involve more fucking, not all these―” Dream’s complaint turns into a moan as Hob pushes a finger inside Dream, and his cock twitches at the thought of going inside that warm heat as he bites at the other’s jaw.

Dream pants, breath harsh near his ear as fingers grip his chest hair and he adds another finger, twisting and stretching the walls around them. “Hard or soft?” He asks, free hand digging into and trailing up Dream’s spine, feeling him shiver and shake as Dream clenches around his fingers.

“Now,” is the desperate order, and Hob pulls Dream by the hair into a forceful kiss, making those pink lips even redder as he takes out his fingers and prepares his cock, lube and condom cool compared to the burning heat of Dream on top of him. Hob groans as he enters the tight heat, Dream shuddering and squeezing around him, and Dream cries out, a hand coming down from his hair to dig into the stubble of his jaw. “Yes,” Dream breathes, twitching.

Hob takes a deep breath, smelling blood and sweat on Dream’s neck as he gets used to the feeling, a part of him wanting to drive in, but also Dream was just kidnapped, so he tries to have a modicum of care as he bottoms out, nails digging into Dream’s waist as they adjust. The tenuous self-control frays as Dream wriggles on top of him, licking into his mouth as Dream grinds down onto his cock.

“Stop being such a pussy and fuck me,” Dream croaks ― and there’s a gasp as Hob’s free hand circles Dream’s neck, nails digging into the other’s esophagus until Dream coughs, eyes wide and dick leaking onto Hob’s stomach.

“With the way you’re acting, no,” he frowns as Dream continues to cough, eventually nodding frantically as Dream’s hand pulls the one away from the other’s throat.

Dream licks his lips, a bit of terror in his eyes that makes Hob’s sharp anger lessen. “Please,” Dream whispers, eyes still overtaken with black, a thin ring of deep blue as the car passes a pot-hole, jostling them and Dream wails. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Better,” he breathes, tugging Dream’s hair roughly as he guides the other man up and down his cock, feeling tight walls slowly loosen up as Dream is impaled on him. Dream tries to say something, but Hob shifts him and only a cry comes out as he hits the other’s prostate, and Hob nibbles at the blossoming bruise on Dream’s throat in the shape of his hand.

Dream sobs and claws at his chest, at his shoulder as they fuck, as his tempo rises ― and Dream comes with a sob, squeezing his cock tightly and pulling an orgasm out of him.

Checking all his weapons are where they’re meant to be, he puts on his clothes as Dream frowns, glaring at him on the backseat. “Now, I have to report to security, and you’ll probably have to deal with your family, so. See you around, Dream,” he says with a lazy fingered salute as he hops out of the car. “Mervyn,” he says with a smile and a nod towards the driver. Mervyn gives him the middle finger as he leaves.

The security briefing is, well, brief. Mainly because he doesn’t reveal the people who kidnapped Dream. So that he can go after them himself, but that’s splitting hairs. There’s a cacophony of sound, and there’s a done-up Dream, looking only a tiny bit ruffled as he’s surrounded by all his siblings as they talk at him. Dream catches his eye and sends him a desperate get me out of here look, and Hob only shrugs, leaning against the wall as Death and Delirium move on to hugging Dream, only quickly though.

Dream scowls, bruises on his neck hidden by layers of collars and black as he steps into Hob’s space once the room has cleared out and the siblings have dispersed. “Will you join me? To my room,” Hob raises an eyebrow and Dream looks away, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt, “for protection, after my ordeal.”

Hob frowns, Dream looking so exhausted now, and he nods, following after Dream into the labyrinth of the mansion until they end up at a room near the art quarters, opening into a red and black bedroom. Hob watches as Dream sheds off his clothes, marks and bruises ― mainly from him, bright against his skin as Dream goes into the bathroom. Hob closes the bedroom door as Dream fills the bath in his en suite, eventually hopping in with a weary sigh.

There’s only the sound of a ticking clock, a far-off, muffled television as Dream curls up in the bath, eventually hopping out after at least an hour. Hob’s heart aches, which he ignores as Dream pulls a fluffy black towel around himself. “Hob,” Dream whispers, voice rusty as Dream dries himself off, getting into a ratty black shirt and pants. “Will you stay? Until I fall asleep?”

Dream looks at him with red-rimmed eyes, drained and tired, at how vulnerable Dream is, and he wants to make sure that no-one else ever sees that look, as much as he wants to make it even worse. However, he did say, he would deal with Dream’s captors, and he thinks of the soft touch of the other’s skin, the fiery determination, even after being rescued.

His heart, which he long thought dead, twists at the other’s exhaustion, and the decision is simple.

“Of course.”

Going through the information gathered on Fawney Rig, Hob may actually have a bit of a challenge, so he decides to take his time working out angles, and what he plans to do. Especially when he discovers that the kidnapping wasn’t the first time he’s interacted with Dream, and those haven’t been good either. Nothing as overt as kidnapping, but enough of a pattern to make Hob think of the many ways to flay an old man alive.

Afterwards, Dream asks him to his room more. Sometimes for just peace of mind, apparently. And other times for sex, which isn’t trouble at all, and Hob is happy with the way things are going in life, even as he deals with rising amounts of plots against the Endless family with no clear mastermind, much to his frustration.

However, there’s always time for some fun, this time with Dream pushing him against his bedroom door and kneeling down, hands quickly taking him out and Hob gasps at the hot mouth around his dick, sucking him to hardness. Groaning, Hob grabs onto soft dark hair as Dream pushes his hips against the door.

“What, no undressing me first?” He says, and Dream stops to give him a withered look, clearly not in the mood to deal with his many weapons. Hob barks out a laugh as Dream licks him.

Dream moans, long black lashes fluttering as Hob fills up in his mouth, the other’s nails digging into the harnesses under his pants, daggers cold against his skin as Dream licks and sucks.

“You may want to move those hands,” he breathes, tugging the other’s black hair, “daggers.” Dream gives him a tired look and pulls off him, teeth lightly grazing the top of his cock, annoyance showing even more as Dream tugs down his pants to reveal the harness and taking off the daggers.

There’s a huff as Dream’s mouth returns, one of Dream’s hands going underneath his shirt to tug at his chest hair, and the pleasure fizzles steadily, unwilling to look away from the other man.

Even just looking at Dream in this position is enough to make his arousal build, spiraling at how much Dream obviously enjoys it. “So pretty,” he whispers, and Dream shivers around him, lashes fluttering and Hob smirks as Dream’s hips move, grinding into air. “Taking me so well,” he says, a hand trailing down to touch Dream’s jaw, going down to a pale throat as Dream moans and swallows around him. “Knew you’d be good with lips like these.”

Dream whimpers as his hand goes up to pink lips, split around his cock, a thumb pressing inside the warm heat. There’s a cry, blue eyes shiny and tears sticking to the edge of long lashes.

His orgasm is a slow thing, helped along as he tugs Dream by his hair, making him choke and swallow around him desperately as he comes. Dream coughs, covering his mouth as he swallows the white fluid. “Was that necessary?” Dream asks, voice rough and fucked, and Hob meets on the floor with a smirk.

“No, it was just fun,” he says with a grin, making Dream gasp as he tugs black hair roughly. Pulling him in for a messy kiss, licking some off of Dream's puffy lips as Dream whimpers. His other hand goes to black skinny jeans, swiftly undoing them―and Hob raises his eyebrows, leaning back as Dream’s face reddens. “Was it the praise or the way I used you?”

Dream’s face burns even more as his hand feels a softening cock, come coating his fingers as he takes his hand out.

A different day, and Hob’s spent hours between Dream’s sheets, wringing out orgasms until he’s had his fill, the night air cool on his skin as he sits up on the bed, a warm lamp and moonlight showing their clothes strewn about the room. He at least tries to sit up, with a skinny arm going around his waist, and there’s a groan as Hob puts some of his daggers back into their harnesses. “Cuddly, are you?” He asks.

“No,” Dream groans, muffled against his skin as the other man curls around him, a thumb going under one of his thigh harnesses as bright blue eyes peek at him. “Surely there’s better things to do than whatever you’re planning.”

“Like making you come even more?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he finds his syringe of poison, putting it into place. Dream huffs, pouting as Hob moves off the bed to sheathe even more of his weapons before haphazardly putting on his pants, afterglow settling in his veins.

“I could read to you,” Dream says, pride in his tone and Hob blinks, baffled as he turns to look back at Dream. “I have been told I have a good reading voice,” Dream explains as he picks up a book from his nightstand. Hob considers ― and Dream does have a good voice, and Hob did work very hard today with his own side project of dealing with Burgess.

Hob crosses his arms and waits, although, “well, Prince of Stories?” Hob says sarcastically, and Dream blinks, shock on his face before it quickly becomes blank, Dream flipping through to the start of the book, a bookmark kept in place near the end of it.

“Along the shore the cloud waves break, The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen. In Carcosa,” Dream begins, words deep and resounding, and vaguely familiar.

“Horror?” He says with a grin, going back to sit on the edge of the bed. Dream’s eyebrow twitches.

“It’s what I’ve been reading,” is offered primly. Dream clears his throat and pulls the sheets over himself, eyes focused on the page in front of him intently. “Strange is the night where black stars rise. And strange moons circle through the skies But stranger still, is Lost Carcosa―”

Hob frowns as he walks towards the art quarters, knowing that Dream would be there, since he’s not in his room. While the mansion has many cameras, there are none in Dream’s art areas or their rooms ― and not that he’d care for them, but it’s handy, especially with what he wants to talk to Dream about. Sighing, he enters the art room, finding Dream mixing paint near a canvas. “Anything you want to tell me?”

Dream turns around and blinks, paintbrush in his hand dripping black paint. “About?”

“Like another attempt on your parent’s life, which I only found out about after I left your room,” he says slowly, walking closer to Dream.

“What are you implying?” Dream asks, shock giving away to an offended glare as the paintbrush gets put down. Hob doesn’t say anything, just watches as Dream glares at him, and continues―until a tiny tic, Dream looking away momentarily.

“You knew,” he drawls as he grabs the other’s jaw, forcing blue eyes to look at him as Dream tries to look away again. “Why?”

“You have some gall to accuse me,” Dream breathes, trying to push his hand away and failing as Hob digs his nails into Dream’s jaw. There’s a brief look of terror from Dream as his fingers go down a pale throat, beginning to cut air from his windpipe. “It wasn’t,” Dream gasps, voice high, “I did want to spend more time with you, but also.”

“Again. Why?” He asks as he lets go, letting Dream wheeze and take some deep breaths.

“They want to send Delirium off,” Dream mutters, “and we―my sibling and I, don’t want that.”

Hob nods, rumours and attempts coalescing into a clear picture, “that’s all? They want to send her away?”

“Among other things,” Dream says quietly, giving him a wide-eyed look, “you can’t tell anyone.”

Hob crosses his arms as he tilts his head, “I don’t know. I do enjoy the money.”

“Once they’re ― nothing will change with that, I swear,” Dream says, almost pleading, “just a change in who runs things.”

Sighing, Hob steps back as he pats Dream’s cheek, a brief flash of fear crossing the other’s face. And, well, he did briefly consider killing the parents himself for the way they acted with Dream’s kidnapping. “As long I get my money, do what you want,” he says curtly as he leaves.

A day later, and Dream freezes once he enters his bedroom. “Hob, I thought you’d be…” Dream trails off as Hob smiles, waiting for the other man to come closer.

“Maybe I wanted to reward you for being so honest with me,” he says, holding his hands out ― which Dream takes warily as he pulls Dream on top of him. The other man looks confused and apprehensive, even as they share biting kisses. “A gift,” he breathes, smiling as Dream’s hands go under his shirt ― and stops, the hands leaving to pat over his thighs and chest.

“Why do you have no weapons,” Dream says flatly, patting his thighs like he expects them to suddenly materialise from where Hob stashed them in the en suite. Hob resists rolling his eyes, bringing Dream in for another kiss, licking into the other’s mouth as their clothes are shed. The arousal builds slowly as he grabs Dream’s hip, stroking up and down as Dream gets his lube.

“No,” he whispers, and Dream lets out a sound as Hob takes the lube from Dream, coating his fingers in it ― and Dream makes another sound as Hob puts the finger in himself, feeling odd after so many years. “Like this,” he says into Dream’s lips, watching Dream’s eyes widen, mouth dropping as Hob puts another finger in, stretching himself.

“You―what,” Dream chokes, thin hands gabbing his waist tightly as Dream stares down as Hob puts another finger in, stretch sliding from weird to pleasurable as he brushes his prostate, gasping at the jolt of it.

“A gift,” he whispers, looking up through his lashes as he finishes prepping himself ― and putting a condom on Dream’s red, leaking dick. There’s a whimper from Dream, hands fluttering up and down his chest as Dream breeches him. “And a punishment,” Hob says with a grin as Dream bottoms out, and he shivers through the pleasure, nails digging into Dream’s jaw to force those blue eyes to look at him.

“Fucking you? A punishment?” Dream asks, expression flummoxed, then quickly turning into determination and cockiness as Dream holds him down. The rhythm builds quickly, sometimes brushing against that bundle of nerves and bringing Hob closer to orgasm ― and Dream looks quietly smug, blue eyes dark as Hob clenches around him.

Hob blinks, watching as Dream fucks into him, nails scratching marks into his waist as Dream gets closer to coming ― and when Dream exits him, he puts his hand around the other’s cock. Dream cries out, orgasm stopped in place by his hand. “I think I need another orgasm. You, however.”

Dream’s eyes widen, pink mouth gaping, cockiness forgotten, “but I. No. Hob,” Dream pleads, “Hob, please.”

Smiling at how he can feel Dream’s cock twitch and jerk in his hand, he deems the orgasm stopped ― and uses his other hand to control Dream by the hips, guiding him in. Dream cries out, body collapsing on top of him as Hob guides the other’s cock, oversensitivity making it pleasure-painful as his cock eventually starts to fill again, and there’s only the sound of slapping skin, his moans and Dream’s pleading as his next orgasm arrives slowly.

By then, he’s stopped Dream’s orgasm once more, who continues to beg into his neck.

His third orgasm is erring on the side of painful and dry, but he enjoys it anyway as Dream lets out a broken wail as his own orgasm is stopped, Dream’s body shaking above him, and he can feel tears on his neck. “Do you think you’ve learnt yet?” He asks breathlessly, smiling as Dream nods against his neck. “I’m not entirely sure you have, considering that stunt you pulled.”

His fourth orgasm is entirely dry, the oversensitivity making him grit his teeth as his walls clench around Dream’s throbbing cock. Dream at this point is completely incoherent, only the suggestions of begging are almost discernible beneath broken sounds.

It’s after he’s stopped Dream’s orgasm for the seventh time, does he take Dream out, who is a collapsed, shivery mess on top of him. As he gets up from the bed, Dream blindly reaches for him, eventually gripping onto one of his biceps. “Hob,” Dream croaks, blue eyes watery and puffy, black eyeliner running.

“Behave, and I might let you come,” Hob purrs, pulling Dream in for a filthy kiss by his hair, and then leaving to put everything on in the en suite.

Next day, the soreness is pushed away with painkillers ― and the way Dream stares at him, eyes pleading and suit askew at a meeting for the family. Hob listens on with half an ear, mostly looking outside the window as he feels Dream’s gaze on him.

“Oi!” A voice hisses next to him, and Hob turns around to see Matthew ― and a cut-off, decaying finger in a ziplock bag. “Hold this.”

Sighing, he gets out his leather gloves, putting them on before handling that, turning it around to look at a tag also in the bag, only making out a vague Choron, “more dirty work?”

“Trash, actually,” Matthew says as he picks up a drink. Hob gives him an unimpressed look. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it, I just wanted a bit of space.”

Hob goes to say something, but catches Dream’s intense stare across the way ― the way Dream’s lips have parted as they hand at his hands. “Ever wonder how they lived with that?” He asks idly, shaking the bag and bringing it up to his eye level, Dream’s gaze pinned on his hands.

Matthew chuckles, and there’s a gulp and sigh as Matthew drinks more of the middling beer usually on offer for such a fancy place as this, “badly, probably. Can’t imagine jerking off with a missing finger, poor fuck,” Matthew says with a laugh. Hob smirks, and the rest of the meeting passes uneventfully, and Hob watches as Dream squirms in his seat, heavy gaze resting on him all the while.

Meeting adjourned, Hob’s unsurprised with how fast Dream appears next to him ― although, the way Dream grabs hold of his lapels and pushes him against the corridor wall is a bit of a surprise, considering the cameras as they share heated kisses. “What brought this on?” He asks, gloved hands holding onto the other’s jaw, watching as Dream shivers, body pressing against him.

“Hob, you know why,” Dream says, tone almost desperate as he pushes his face into Hob’s hand. “Please.”

Humming, his hand trails down the other’s torso, feeling Dream press even closer as he reaches Dream’s clothed cock, his other hand going to tug Dream’s head to the side as he bites into the marks hiding under Dream’s collar. Arousal flares as Dream whimpers, squirming against him as he opens the other’s pants, leather-clad hand stroking Dream’s leaking cock.

“Yes,” Dream gasps, a pale hand gripping the back of his neck as he strokes Dream, almost no friction from pre-come getting onto the leather. “More,” Dream breathes and Hob looks up, catching sight of a goon staring at them.

“Think this is good enough for now, don’t you think?” He smirks, keeping eye contact with the shocked goon as his hand in Dream’s hair ghosts down his back to slide under Dream’s shirt, feeling him shiver and cry out. The goon seems to move out of his stupor and walks out of sight, Hob tracking him as he bites further up Dream’s neck. “After all, the only reason I’m not fucking you at this moment, is if I’m not sure if you deserve it.”

Dream lets out a pathetic sound, clutching him tighter he presses against the slit of Dream’s cock, making the other man shiver. “It won’t―that won’t happen again,” Dream pants.

Hob sighs, twisting his wrist as Dream moans, hands scrabbling desperately over his torso as it takes only a few more strokes until Dream comes. There’s a loud cry, Dream going boneless as his other hand goes to Dream’s front to pinch at pink nipples hidden under the black dress shirt. “Next time, I won’t be as nice,” he says, hand moving out of―

Until Dream grabs his wrist, and his cock, neglected, throbs as Dream licks his come off the black leather, eyes an intense dark blue as they look at him.

“Needy, aren’t you?” He rasps, Dream’s eyes fluttering shut as he continues to lick the his gloved hands, and Hob moans as Dream grabs his cock. Dream undoes his belt and zipper as his thumb presses Dream’s bottom lip, black glove and pink lips making his cock twitch before Dream gets his own hands on it, stroking it in a frenzied rush as Dream bites at his fingers, licking the palm of his hand as Hob comes with a groan.

Dream has asked him to be around his art room, looking haunted ― and Hob gets the impression he’s there for more emotional support again, which. He’s a bit out of practice with, but for Dream usually just requires being in the area, so he’s sitting in one of the plush chairs and reading a book, while Dream mixes paints and glares daggers at a canvas.

There’s a sigh, and a clatter as brushes get put down, “why do you let them do that?” Dream asks, apropos of nothing and Hob blinks, attention dragged away from his book to Dream.

“Let who do what?” He crosses his legs, placing the book down the side of the chair.

“I heard some guards talking about you. They don’t know about you.” Dream clarifies, eyes narrow as they stare at him.

“They don’t matter. And I like to operate so that people under-estimate me,” he shrugs, putting his face on his hands. “Art not co-operating today?”

Dream scowls and glares once again at the canvas, then stands up and comes over to him, hands gripping his thighs. “I read about you ― or what wasn’t heavily redacted. What did you do?”

Hob’s brows raise, and he huffs, gently pushing Dream away with his foot ― and Dream lets out a sound, blue eyes darkening as they stare at his pointed shoes. That’s always an option, Hob considers as he guides Dream onto the floor, shoe on Dream’s shoulder. Cocking his head, he thinks that Dream kneeling for him might be one of his favourite things. “A light disagreement with a former employer, nothing interesting,” he breathes.

“It said you’re to be executed on sight, from the MI6, that wasn’t redacted,” Dream scowls, trying to hold onto getting his answers. Hob hums, smirking as he puts his other leg in between Dream’s, lightly pressing onto the other’s crotch, and Dream gasps.

“The disagreement wasn’t so light, then,” he amends, feeling Dream’s cock fill under his shoe as Dream grabs onto his shin, nails digging into him.

“Hob,” Dream growls, staring up at him with blue eyes swallowed by black ― and Hob’s other shoe taps against Dream’s cheek, trailing to the other’s jaw and pulling his face up, legs loosely crossed as he does.

“Dream,” he mimics, feeling Dream shiver as he grinds his shoe into a hard cock. Hob blinks, resting his head on his hand, watching as Dream holds onto his ankles. “While you’re down there, there’s better things to do than talk about ancient history,” Hob drawls ― and Dream shivers, arching into the shoe on his groin ― and the point of the other shoe presses into Dream’s pink mouth.

“I―I don’t,” Dream whines, muffled by his shoe as he’s given him a wide-eyed look, surprise as Dream grabs onto the shoe near his mouth. There’s a whimper as Hob continues to press onto Dream’s cock, making the other man shudder and curl in on him, Dream’s nose brushing against his other shoe, cheeks flushing red.

“You don’t even have to do anything if you don’t want, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy,” he purrs, own arousal making his dick hard in his pants, and he grins as Dream moans, blue eyes glazed over as they look at him, mouth open. “Look at that,” he breathes, leaning over to grip Dream’s hair, Dream following along obediently. “Now,” he guides Dream’s face to his other shoe, still grinding into Dream’s cock as the other man whimpers. “Be a good boy and lick.”

Dream lets out a whimper, staring up at him, then to his shoe, blinking ― and there's a frisson of pleasure coiling inside at seeing a tentative lick on the top of it, blue eyes fluttering closed. There’s a broken, surprised noise as Dream kisses his shoe, hands moving to grip underneath as kisses and licks get laved upon it.

Having been roughly involved in the BDSM scene, but again. Disagreements, and yet he’s delighted to see how easily Dream falls into subspace, feeling the scrape of teeth through leather as Dream bites at the point of the shoe, sucking it and Hob shivers, dick throbbing as he watches. Licking his lips, he lifts the one on Dream’s crotch, and Dream whines, staring at him imploringly. “If you want to come, you’ll have to work for it.”

Reclining back in the chair and resting his fingers on his cheek, Dream takes a few deep breaths, blinking up at him. Dream moves forward, a hand coming to grip the ankle of the shoe that was grinding into him ― and he lets out a pleased sound as Dream starts to press against his shoe, chest arching into his leg as Dream moves up and down.

“Beautiful,” he praises, stroking Dream’s red cheek as he whines and grounds up against him, licking the top of his other shoe, and there’s only the sound of their breathing, and Dream’s whining, with leather creaking as Dream works himself towards orgasm.

Dream comes with a cry, hiding his face into Hob’s shoe as he pants, weight falling onto Hob’s legs as Dream stares up at him.

A week later, Hob enters Dream’s room, who reacts with ― embarrassment, blue eyes looking away as Dream’s face starts to redden. “What?” Dream asks, voice gruff and giving him a death glare.

“I’m going to visit a mutual friend today,” he says dryly, and Dream, hunched over a desk with a notebook, tenses as Hob pulls a gun out of the holster under his suit jacket. Refraining from rolling his eyes, he grabs the barrel of the gun, butt facing Dream as he walks up to the other man, other hand in his pants. “Remember, whose men I had to deal with to free you?”

Dream’s eyes widen, looking between the gun and his face as Hob leans against the desk. “Why now?”

“Had to make a plan, at least a bit of an effort regarding some things,” he shrugs, and now Dream looks more confused, closing his notebook. “As for this,” he rattles the gun, thumb moving to the side of it to show the shining gleam of it, “a kiss? For luck,” he says with a grin.

The other man scoffs, staring down at the barrel, “why? You don’t need it,” Dream mutters, glancing between the gun and him for a few moments. Hob raises his brows, and Dream’s lips purse before he moves forward, lips pressing onto the barrel of the gun. There’s a clack of teeth against steel as Dream grabs onto his hand, eyes dark as they stare up at him.

A pink tongue presses against the barrel and Hob takes a breath, feeling himself get half-hard as Dream pulls him down, breath almost mingling over the top of the gun― And Hob takes the gun away, putting it back in its holster, Dream’s stare heavy and Hob forces his mind back on track, that’s not filled with Dream’s delicious cries and warm skin. “Later,” he manages, voice rough as he steps back, and eventually out of the room.

#dc #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fanfic #dream x hob #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #dream of the endless #hob gadling #writing #not sfw #oh my amoral baby of a fic i care you so much #the second part is pretty much almost done and so

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janitor-figure-a · 5 months

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phyrgian takes the form of cori's childhood bedroom to help her rest when she's recovering. it's an unruly number of plushies but her smile was so bright

phyrg in the form of brnines first real workshop (it's the third one, but the first you could just about fit a mech in upright) as the distract themself from the latest overwhelming set of decisions. grease and mechanisms clicking in and out of place and familiar smells take the edge off for once

the form of an all but forgotten teachers lounge. it doesn't seem comfortable but figure swears it's the best nap they've had in years

inexplicably a greenhouse with natural light, perfectly balanced to help struggling saplings grow

#fatt #friends at the table #palisade #phyrgian #ily..#coriolis sunset #kalvin brnine #the figure in bismuth #anyway #I hope we both die #hand in loving cable hand #c posts

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maracujatangerine · 6 months

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The Gift Exchange, part 1

CW: institutionalised slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation

“Miss Lydia, Miss Lydia, what do you think about this?.”

Coriander jogged into the kitchen, brandishing a roll of wrapping paper patterned with abstract swirls in silver and dark green. The silver accents glittered in the pale winter morning sunlight falling in through the windows.

“It is really pretty!” Miss Lydia smiled, brown eyes warm. “Good choice, Cory!”

The blonde pet ducked his head, but smiled back from underneath his bangs. He wore a soft, green sweater with leather patches on the elbows that matched his chestnut trousers.

Lydia was dressed in a dark grey, knitted dress with red leggings. She leaned over the table to move the pot with the red and white amaryllis out of the way.

“Should we wrap everything into one present, or should we wrap each gift separately, do you think?”

“T-this pet thinks we should w-wrap one gift for Colton and one for Linden, b-but that all their gifts can be wrapped together.”

“That’s a good idea, let’s do that.”

Coriander spread out several seed packages on the table and studied them thoughtfully. Closest to Lydia was a packet with a picture of lush, green sugar snap peas labelled: ‘Mangetout, pea seeds 'Norli' ORGANIC’. Then, there were two packets both marked ‘Thunbergia alata, Black-eyed Susan’, the first one called ‘African Sunset’ in shades of red and apricot, the second one ‘Alba Oculata’ in brilliant white. The final was a handwritten envelope simply marked in Cory’s neat handwriting: ‘Chili, mix’.

“Are you happy with those seeds?”

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia. C-Colton will be able to grow them on the balcony, and i-it will be fun that we both can try to grow the same seeds. P-perhaps we can compare notes.”

Cory gathered the seed packets and tied them together with a neat red bow. Meanwhile, Lydia grabbed a hardback book. The blue dust jacket had brightly coloured leaves scattered all over the cover. The title stood out in bright white: When we were birds, by Ayanna Lloyd Banwo.

Opening the book, she wrote on the inside of the cover. ‘To Linden. Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year.’ Signing it, she handed it over to Coriander to add his name too.

“‘It is a bit of a risky gift,” she admitted to Cory, “since I haven’t read the book yet, but it seems so good. I got a copy for myself too, and I hope I will get the chance to read it over the holidays.”

They added two bags of homemade butterscotch candy in green paper cups, and two reused milk cartoons filled with gingerbread cookies, the result of last night’s baking spree.

Lydia and Cory put their joint efforts into wrapping the gifts into two neat packages. The dark, red ribbon a nice contrast to the green and silver wrapping paper.

“Let’s go for a walk and send it off this afternoon.” Coriander nodded.

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia.”

Linden wiggled the pen between his thumb and index finger, deep in thought. Leaning back in his kitchen chair, he looked over at Colton, who was working diligently at the end of the table. With wholly unbroken concentration, he was pulling strips of sellotape from the dispenser and sticking them in a neat row along the table’s wooden edge. When Linden had done the altogether far more fiddly task of wrapping a gift up, Col could pluck a pre-cut piece of tape and stick it in place. It was, as Linden had said about fifty times, excellent teamwork.

“Hey, Col, have you ever seen this before?” Linden asked, lifting his hand for Col to see. With the pen held right in its middle, Linden wiggled it gently, until it looked as if the pen was bending at the edges.

Col’s eyebrows twitched, and for a beautiful second Linden thought he was going to burst out laughing. Instead, his mouth curved upwards into a tiny smile. “Yes, Sir. I have.”

“Ah, not too impressive then. Haha, no matter.”

“Do you need any tape for the envelope, Sir?” Col asked, eyeing the Christmas card laid out in front of Linden.

“In a second… I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Ah, okay, Sir.”

Col took another breath, as if to speak, then stopped himself. Linden prided himself on reading Col well enough by now to know that it was because he wanted to ask a question. Probably what are you trying to figure out?

“I’ve written my part of Lydia and Cory’s card, but I’m not sure how to do yours. I’m not going to make you try and hold a pen. I was thinking - do you want to just dictate it? It doesn’t have to be much, just a little festive greeting sort of thing. I can be your text-to-speech robot.”

Linden was always cheery around Christmas time. Something about winter setting in, dark and long and rainy, and then being cut through by glittering lights, gifts and music. Today, he felt like he was on a veritable warpath to make Col smile.

“That sounds good, Sir… I can do that.”

“Great!” Linden said, overjoyed that Colton hadn’t taken issue with the idea of ‘dictating’ something to his owner, hadn’t overthought any possible rule-breaking that could come with speaking and forcing his Master to write it all down. “And instead of you signing the card the normal way, I thought you could do a fingerprint?”

“That’s a good idea, Sir, thank you for c-”

“Wait, no!” Linden said, making Col flinch. “Sorry, I’m sorry love. I just realised. We’ll both do our fingerprints. That’ll be nice. Then we’re the same.”

There it was again, the coveted half-smile. Col’s cheeks glowed. “Thank you, Sir, that’s really kind. I think- I, uh…”

“Go on,” Linden said warmly. “I want to hear what you think.”

“I think Lydia and Cory will like that, Sir.”

“I agree. Now, here’s what I’ve written.”

Linden pushed the card over. He’d written a short message making light of the strange way they first crossed paths, saying how glad he now was to know the both of them, wishing them a peaceful and happy holiday. He waited patiently as Colton gave his message some thought, then wrote it down exactly as dictated on the left hand side of the card.

Linden found some stamp ink in the back of a drawer, and the two of them rolled their index fingers in it until they could leave two bold prints, one below each message.

Once the card was sealed, it was time for the gifts. Lydia’s gift was a specially-made book embosser, which had EX LIBRIS - LYDIA WINTERTHORPE printed onto it. The embosser itself was a satisfying, weighty thing, and Linden hoped she’d get great pleasure out of stamping all of her most beloved books.

Cory’s gift was also a bespoke item: a brass door sign with his name, Coriander, printed on it. It had ornate rounded corners which gave the thing a rustic, rather stately look, and although Linden had never seen Lydia’s house he guessed it would fit right in. He had run the gift idea past Col first - would a pet such as Cory be okay with claiming the bedroom as his in this way? Col had given it a fair share of thought, ultimately telling Linden, in a way that sounded more like a sinful confession, that Cory would like it very much.

The two men performed their well-honed wrapping ritual, with Col sticking down the final piece of tape with a flourish.

This is a collaboration between @whumpzone and @maracujatangerine.

We would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas!

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#lydia and linden #lydia and coriander #linden and colton #whump fic #pet whump #pet whumpee #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box boy whump #writers on tumblr #original writing #christmas whump #chirstmas

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