#i do not apologize | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hereticpriest · 5 months

Text

Sriracha

Relationship: Dirk Brûlée x Reader

Warnings: Loss of parents, single mom reader raising her younger brother, rough sex, sex toys, sybian, vaginal fingering, oral sex, barely-there handjob, bad flirting, bad puns.

Once upon a time, if someone told you you would be going to a taping of Everything At Once, you would have laughed at them. A variety-talk show hybrid aimed at children wasn't something you ever thought you would be interested in. Once upon a time, you had your whole life together and spread out in front of you, ripe for the taking. You were enrolled in university, living in a decent apartment, with a stable boyfriend and a steady side job to support you. You spoke with your parents every few days, and had just attended your mother's wedding to your stepfather, with whom you had a decent relationship. She had you as a teenager, and the split with your father broke her heart, but your stepfather was a nice guy who brought some stability to her life. She gave birth to your new little brother shortly into your first year at university, and you loved to visit him whenever you could.

Now, you were a single mother to your younger brother, struggling to balance your responsibilities as a mother, father and sister with duties at work. Thankfully, you had a decent job as a PA for an art gallery owner who was also letting you intern with his art curator whenever you finished your work. Having an educated PA was a bonus that he wasn't about to let go of, and he paid well because you were loyal, and reliable, and probably at least a little bit because he pitied you. But you weren't above pity money - you needed it to take care of your little monster.

Your boss was also the only reason you managed to get these tickets and secure your place as 'best mom ever'. Being called mom wasn’t what you expected from the birth of your little brother, however, your parents passed away in a tragic accident when your brother was only four, and he barely remembered them. You were Mom more than you were his sister, and you’d learned to accept that over the last three years. Sean was a rambunctious seven year old, and like many kids his age, he was absolutely obsessed with Everything At Once. Your boss had connections with some of the crew of the show, and he was able to secure you tickets as a birthday gift.

"Not a good birthday gift for you, I suppose, but I know Sean is your world so hopefully it will suit." He’d said as he handed the tickets to you.

He knew you so well.

Which led you here, standing in the back of the studio with the other parents while Sean was led up into the audience by a friendly-looking young PA. Your baby was vibrating out of his light-up sneakers, and you couldn't stop smiling, happy to see him so excited. He'd insisted on dressing up like his idol, so he was wearing his most colourful clothes - a highlighter pink shirt and lavender pants, paired with his trusty light-up shoes. He had his Dirk Brûlée shirt stuffed into your purse so that he could see if he could get it signed after the taping, and a rather stunning photograph of the talk show host that you’d printed on expensive photo paper protected within a manila envelope. You had to promise to frame it in order for Sean to let you hold onto it during the taping.

Unlike your brother, you chose to wear a baby blue midi sundress with corset boning in the bodice, puffy sleeves, a tulle skirt, and a lovely neckline that enhanced your chest. It’s all very appropriate despite the attractive bodice, and paired with cute wedge sandals, it gives you a youthful and charming look. Despite not being on TV, you put on makeup and styled your hair to make sure you would look good since you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of anyone. You wanted to dress your age, while still looking like an adult, and you never got to wear this kind of clothing at work since they had a strict business casual-adjacent dress code at the gallery. This dress would never fly without a blazer, and a blazer would be uncomfortable with the sleeves.

"God, she's young isn't she?"

"Gotta be a teen mom. She looks like she's barely out of high school. If she even graduated.”

You frown. You'd think by now you would be used to how catty other parents could be, but somehow, you still let it get to you. The judgement. As if they knew anything about you. A deep, centering breath brings you back to the present - Sean is happy, and their words don't matter. Instead, you focus on your sweet little brother, the most important (and only) man in your life. The hype guy is riling up the kids, bouncing around with an excitement you wish you could muster but have been struggling to manage with the extra hours you've been taking on. By the time you go to bed every night, you’re exhausted, passing out in bed the minute your head hits the pillow.

Thank god for your friends, all of whom act as amazing aunts and uncles for Sean. Your oldest friend, Nadia, has a son only a year younger than Sean, and they're thicker than thieves so they hang out often. Nadia picks the boys up from school every night, and watches Sean until you get home from work just after 5. After work, you make dinner nearly every night, then take a shower while Sean finishes his homework that he started at Nadia’s. Together, you watch the newest episode of Everything At Once on the PVR since Nadia doesn’t believe in letting the kiddos watch TV, and it’s a nice little hour of cuddle time that forces you to relax on the couch. Once that’s done, you both clean up - Sean cleans the living room and his bedroom while you clean the kitchen and whatever else needs to be tidied. Cleaning up throughout the week gives you the chance to spend weekends with Sean, with only very rare Saturday evenings reserved for gallery events.

You’ve committed to driving him to school every day on your way to work, and you’ve never missed a day except when you’re sick as a dog. You give Sean every moment of your time that you can, leaving very little for yourself, and you’re starting to feel the burn out. You haven’t had a real break since the death of your parents, and at this point, you couldn’t afford one any time soon either. Your friends would take Sean if you needed them to, but you feel guilty not spending time with him when you have it. Perhaps sometime soon, it wouldn’t feel like a failure to take more than a night or two to yourself. Even tonight, you have your friend Garrett and his wife Kimmie picking Sean up from the studio to go to their house for the weekend for their son’s birthday celebration, giving you a weekend to yourself for the first time in ages, and you feel guilty.

A PA informs the parents that Dirk is about to come out, and you snap out of the deep well of your thoughts, brightening up at the sight of Sean’s excited little foot taps. The theme music kicks in, and Dirk Brûlée swings out through the glitzy, colourful streamers to the raucous applause of the kids. You smile fondly as he passes out high-fives and fist bumps, and you can see the brilliant smile that spreads across Sean’s face as he gets one of his own. Your heart melts, and everything you’ve ever missed out on for him is worth it just to see him this happy.

Dirk greets a couple more kids, then ruffles Sean’s hair as he passes him towards his chair, and the show begins. The first guests are always there for an experimental, goofy skit-like interview - today being the stars of a popular children’s show that you vaguely recognize as something Sean watched when he was younger. The interview plays into the stars’ characters, with humorous nods towards the adults in the crowd with vague jokes that would go over a child’s head. This is followed by Dirk’s typical dance break, in which he introduces the musical guest, then hypes the kids up and dances with them to the musical guest’s set. You laugh as Sean gets his turn, and spins Dirk the way he normally would spin you when you two dance together, and you can’t help but feel some warm bubblies towards Dirk for the way he goes along with it seamlessly. It’s sweet that he seems to genuinely enjoy the children - there’s a sparkle in his eye that you recognize as sincerity. It’s such a rare thing to see, and despite hearing rumours that Dirk is a giant diva, you decide that you like him just for the way he interacts with the kids.

Once the dance break is over, Dirk welcomes the musical guest on stage for an interview, and you’re impressed that he was able to get a popular up-and-coming boyband. His accent is softer after years spent away from his home country, but you can hear it in his ‘r’s and the way he pronounces words with ‘th’ sounds. You don’t know much about Dirk, but you know his mother is a famous French actress and his father was a Hollywood director. Maybe growing up in the industry is what made him such a natural interviewer. The conversation flows easily, with Dirk asking surprisingly poignant questions for a show with a primarily child audience. He strikes an easy balance between fun and serious, keeping the kids engaged while also managing to keep his guests entertained as well. After the musical guest, the last guest is introduced with a scene from an upcoming kids’ movie, and you smile as Dirk begins a rambunctious interview with an actor you think you know, but can’t quite place from where. The show ends with another little dance party, after which Dirk promises to meet all the kids and answer questions after a quick break.

Sean nearly knocks you off your feet when he runs to you, and you lift him up into your arms as you watch Dirk walk backstage over his shoulder. The moms who were talking shit earlier greet their kids - a blond little girl with a very cute bow and seemingly endless pout, and a dark-haired boy who looks like he fell out of a bland ‘aesthetic’ home magazine photo. The poor kid looks uncomfortable in his khakis and polo shirt - Sean would scream if you tried to put him in an outfit like that. The judgemental stares don’t bother you too much now that you’ve got Sean to distract you. So long as he doesn’t notice, you couldn’t care less what they think of you. You pause to chat with a couple while Sean shows their daughter his robot book (which he refuses to leave home without), then spend the last couple minutes of the break fending off a (hopefully?) single dad who doesn’t seem to understand that you’re not interested. Finally, Dirk emerges from the back area looking refreshed, and an assistant corrals the kids and their parents into a line for the meet and greet. You end up at the back of the line due to Sean having one of his shoes untied which you make him fix, but you remind the pouting kiddo that Dirk promised he would meet every kid, so it doesn’t matter where in the line he is.

Sean has never been quite good at being patient, but he dutifully tries his best, clinging to your hand while you wait. You smile as one of the dads seems to flirt with Dirk, indiscreetly giving him his phone number, his daughter oblivious as she clings to her father’s pant leg. Dirk handles it pretty smoothly, waiting until the man is out of view before giving the phone number to a PA to get rid of it. Another PA leads those who’ve finished their meet-and-greet towards the door to leave, and you watch absently as the room slowly empties as you get closer to the end of the line.

Sean rocks on his heels as you get closer to the end of the line, and you feel a little bad for Dirk as one of the moms from earlier tries to flirt with him while he does his best to distance himself while still being kind about it. It reminds you of all the men who flirt with you at the gallery, as if your job requiring you to be nice to them means that you’ll somehow be more inclined to let them take you out. You wonder for a moment how often this happens to him, and if he ever takes anyone up on it. He’s a handsome man - you don’t blame anyone for being interested in him. Even his obnoxious moustache doesn’t take away from his gorgeous face. He’s probably nearly double your age, but you wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers, as they say. Not that you needed the complication of a relationship on top of your seemingly endless pile of responsibilities.

Dirk’s in it for the kids, you realise as you watch him interact with them. He’s polite enough to the adults, but he lights up when he speaks with the children, genuinely interested in what they have to say. It isn’t in a creepy way either - it reminds you more of that feeling of meeting someone who you instantly connect and have something in common with. You wonder if perhaps the honesty of children resonates with him like it does for you. They hold nothing back, and when you treat them with respect and listen to what they have to say, they really blossom into something special. You can’t believe the amount of personality Sean has, and he’s only seven.

The line dwindles, and you begin to worry as you notice how long it’s taking. Perhaps, by the time it gets to Sean, Dirk might be tired of meet-and-greets and might rush things. Maybe you should’ve let him tie his shoes in line? You end up panicking for nothing - as the family before you departs, Dirk offers Sean a wide smile that makes his eyes crinkle charmingly.

“Hey! Nice to meet you. What’s your name?” Dirk asks, and Sean introduces himself eagerly.

“I’m Sean, and this is my mom- uh, sister. You can call her Mom - I do.” He informs Dirk with a blinding grin. Your cheeks get hot, and you pet Sean’s hair back out of his face.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You murmur, giving him your name and letting him know that he very much does not need to call you Mom. You direct it at Sean just as much as Dirk, and the older man grins, taking your offered hand to kiss your knuckles instead of shake it. You swear his gaze runs quickly up and down your body, but the second you notice it, he looks away. He immediately directs his attention back to Sean, and you listen happily as your brother yaks the poor man’s ear off, telling him all about his robot book, how he picked his outfit especially to look like Dirk, and how he watched the show every day with you. The talk show host compliments his outfit and light-up sneakers, flipping through his book and commenting on a couple things, and you can see the way Sean thrives under the attention of the older man. Part of you laments the fact that you can’t give that same energy to him that he clearly craves.

Dirk offers to sign autographs and take photos, and you take several pictures of the two together before Dirk asks his PA to take a photo of the three of you. “Since you’re a fan too.” he claims, winking at you over Sean’s head as you approach. Your cheeks burn as he slides an arm around your waist even though it remains entirely appropriate. As you step away from him, you can still feel his heat against your side, and you wonder how he isn’t sweating his ass off in that leather jacket. Sean hands over his photo and shirt for Dirk to sign, which he does with a wide smile, his signature big and dramatic for the kids, and in a cherry red marker. You’re impressed with how quick he is while still keeping it legible.

“Vic, can you take Sean here to the prize room? Let him pick something special out, since he’s my last kiddo of the day.” Dirk instructs his PA, who seems surprised but happy enough to comply. Sean practically bounces out of his shoes as he grabs the young PA’s hand and follows her out of the room.

“Thank you for that. He… he really looks up to you.” You say as you’re left alone with the talk show host since security waits outside the room for the kids’ comfort. You don’t feel nervous being alone with him, even though normally you don’t particularly enjoy being alone with men.

“He looked like he needed it. So do you.” Dirk replies simply, shrugging and offering you a wry smile, “He’s a good kid.”

“He is. I never expected him, but he’s my entire world.”

“Unplanned pregnancy?” Dirk asks, but you can see from the look on his face that he’s only asking to coax the truth out of you - he doesn’t think Sean is yours. He didn’t miss the slip in your introduction. From the expression on his face, he’s not even trying to be subtle about it really.

“No, no, he’s my little half-brother. Our mom and his dad passed away in an accident when he was four. I was just out of uni, so I got custody of him. He doesn’t really remember them, so he calls me mom.” You reply, giving him the truth since he obviously wanted it, and not feeling guilty for putting that stricken look of sympathy on his face.

“I’m sorry.” Dirk murmurs earnestly, and you shrug your shoulders, managing a gentle smile.

“It’s okay. We’re doing okay. But this - today - really helps. He adores you. You give him a lot of confidence in his self-expression, and… I mean, I’m not naive, I know people talk about us. I know he knows, and I know he hears it sometimes. But you give him the confidence to brush it off most of the time, you know? I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Dirk takes a breath, shocked and touched, and you nearly jump out of your skin as he puts a hand on your arm.

“I think you’re discounting your own role in that.” He says gently, “it must be hard, becoming a mom right out of university. You’re only, what, 25 or 26?”

“Twenty-five.” You agree, and he nods. You watch his gaze trail over you again quickly, and you raise an eyebrow. He doesn’t seem as uncomfortable as he did with the other parents, though you’ve no idea why. You have no idea why he’s still talking to you. You expected him to maybe say hi and then go off to his dressing room or trailer. He was here for the kids, not the parents. He wasn’t here for you.

“Hey, gimme your phone for a sec.” Dirk instructs without room for negotiation, and you do it without thinking. He holds it up to you for Face ID to unlock it, then taps away while you try to scoot closer and peer at it.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending myself the photos we took today.” Dirk replies airily, smiling in a way that almost looks like he’s posing, then going back to typing.

“Oh… I can delete your number afterwards, don’t worry.” You reassure him.

“I’m not worried. Text me. I’d like to see you again.”

That makes you freeze, and you tilt your head, surprised.

“Sean, you mean?”

“No, you. It’s unfortunate that you’ve got the kid right now. I would’ve loved to make you my weekend plans.” Dirk muses with a hint of a pout, shameless as can be, while you stare at him in shock. He raises an eyebrow at your expression, a smug smile spreading across his lips as you do your best to catch up. Do you want to sleep with Dirk Brûlée? That’s what he’s asking for, right? He wants to fuck you, and he gave you his number (and took yours in return) to get a chance at something in the future. Are you really going to sleep with a talk show host who is likely nearly double your age and has a reputation as a diva? Then again, he doesn’t have a reputation for fucking around - not since he went to rehab some five or so years ago after a string of ill-advised flings and bad publicity.

“Sean is getting picked up from the studio to go to his friend’s house for their birthday sleepover.” You reply in a rush of breath, then blink in astonishment as if you hadn’t realised what you were saying. Dirk steps closer to you, skimming his hand up over your arm, his eyes darkening as he cups your cheek with his other hand.

“Come over to my place tonight. Stay the night. I’ll make you breakfast.” he demands, tipping your head back a little, his thumb stroking over your lips and down your throat. You choke on your own spit, eyes wide with shock at the way he’s touching you.

“I don’t have any clothes with me except what I’m wearing.”

“I’ll loan you something, pretty girl. How long has it been since you’ve had a break?” Dirk asks, and that makes you pause. He’s a high profile - it’s not like he’s going to kill you, probably. People saw you here, and you’ve got your location shared with Nadia at all times just in case. And honestly, you’ve got pretty good danger sense by now and you don’t get any bad vibes from the talk show host currently rubbing your hands in a tease of a massage, his thumbs skillfully digging into the meat of your palm in a way that makes you shiver. There’s a sincerity in his eyes. A desire that makes you think he might need this nearly as badly as you do.

“I drove here.” You inform him, and he hums, unworried.

“I assumed. Drive to my place. There’s plenty of room to park, and you’ll have the freedom to leave whenever you want. Have you eaten anything today? I can make dinner.” Dirk ends his stream of consciousness with an almost shy smile, and you feel your cheeks get hot at the intensity of his stare.

“Okay.” You finally reply, hesitantly lifting your hands to cup his cheeks, a twinge of heat licking up your spine when he leans into it, “Kiss me first.”

Surprisingly strong hands pull you in close, and you let yourself be drawn in, sliding your hands back in his hair and down over his shoulders as he leans in to press his lips against yours. He does not lure you into it - he doesn’t start sweet and gentle, or chaste and dry. Instead, he devours you, biting your lip and using your gasp to lick his way into your mouth. You thought his moustache would be ticklish, or at least feel unpleasant, but it doesn’t. He clearly grooms it well, and it isn’t scratchy against your skin. He moans into the kiss, adjusting to nip at you gently, sucking your lower lip into his mouth to scrape his teeth across it before kissing you properly again.

You hear footsteps approaching, gentle clicks of heels that make you gasp and pull away from Dirk with wide eyes. He grins as you hurry to wipe away the remnants of your lipstick from his face, then fix his hair to look less like you’ve been combing your fingers through it while he kisses you good enough to forget your own name. He rubs away a spot of smeared lipstick from your chin, then steps away a comfortable distance to flick through his phone as the PA from earlier, Vic, opens the door with Sean at her side blabbering away. He beams at the sight of you, holding a poster and a copy of the children’s book that Dirk wrote earlier this year. The man in question dutifully signs both for Sean, ruffling his hair while you try to collect yourself and thank Vic for taking care of your little monster.

Your phone buzzes, and you let out a soft sigh of relief, “Garrett and Kimmie are here, buddy, c’mon.”

Sean cheers, then shyly asks Dirk for a hug before he goes. You can’t help but melt a little as Dirk gives Sean a squeeze, then tells him to be good at the party. He catches your eyes, winking, then pats Sean on the shoulder as he says goodbye and departs for his dressing room. Vic leads you both out of the building, and you ask Sean if he wants to keep his merch to show his friend, or for you to take it home. The mental debate takes a while, but eventually, he gives it all to you to put in your car, just in case.

“You promised to frame stuff.” He reminds you, and you laugh.

“I did. I’ll get it done soon, I promise.”

Garrett and Kimmie meet you out front, and you help Sean into the car, putting his backpack at his feet so you can give him a couple of kisses and hugs. CJ, the birthday boy, complains until you walk around the car precariously close to the busy street to give him a hug as well, and then they’re off, leaving you alone. Once upon a time, you were very used to being alone, but now? Now, it felt empty. Maybe it was a good thing you’ve been picked up by the wild tv show host. You’re sure you’d go mad on your own all weekend.

You head to your car in the small parking area for audience members, putting Sean’s things into the back seat. As you settle into the driver’s seat and examine yourself in the mirror, you realise that your lipstick is basically gone, and you hope Sean was too excited about the day to notice. Your phone buzzes, and you find Dirk’s face looking back at you in his contact photo.

Address attached. Txt me when u get here n I’ll open the gate.

A pause, and then another message comes through.

The pool n hot tub r nice today. I’ll give u sumthin to swim in. If u want? Can u swim? R u allergic 2 anything? Do u like Thai food?

Well, he texts pretty much exactly how you figured he would. Somehow, it isn’t the turn off you thought it might be.

I can swim. It might be nice since it’s hot out today. Maybe I should go home first and get clothes? Are you even going to be there if I leave right away? I don’t have any allergies, and I like pretty much everything.

Already omw home. Driver. Up to u but I wanna see u in my clothes.

Okay, see you soon.

The drive to Dirk’s house isn’t too terrible, even with a bit of traffic. You start to get excited on the drive, as nervous as you are, to finally relax a little and do something for yourself. It’s been a long time since you’ve had the chance to let loose. You haven’t been on a date since your parents passed away, and you’ve only had a single one night stand since then. The most romantic relationship you’ve had has been with your vibrator. Based on the kisses he gave you earlier, you’re fairly sure Dirk will be able to give you a good night. If he doesn’t, at least you’ll get to lounge in his hot tub, sleep in what you imagine is a lavish bed, and maybe he’ll even feed you. Worst case scenario, you’re plenty good at getting yourself off.

Dirk Brûlée’s house is stunning. You’re not necessarily surprised - his vibrant aesthetic wasn’t necessarily what was popular these days, but it was something you saw often in the art community, and it worked for him. The house is an off-white brick with flowers and vines painted across it. The door is a large, old wooden thing that reminds you of a castle, as do the stained glass windows. The path up to the door is made of painted stones, and vibrant flowers line the flowerbeds along the sides of the path and the side of the house. You can’t wait to see the inside.

Your house is beautiful. I’m outside.

You pop a stick of gum into your mouth just to make sure your breath is fresh despite the fact that you’ve already made out with Dirk less than an hour ago. You grin when the gate begins to open, and you pull into the driveway to park. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at it as you turn your car off, your cheeks getting hot as you see the message.

Can’t wait 2 c u. I wanna take care of u n make u feel good, mon chou.

As you’re getting out of the car, you hear the front door open and nearly trip over your own feet when you see Dirk. He’s changed since he got home. He’s replaced his vibrant outfit with a pair of jeans that look painted on and a colourful apron with ‘Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Mike Echo’ on the front. You snicker despite how cheesy it is, though you’re distracted when you realise he isn’t wearing a shirt underneath. As soon as you’re close enough, he pulls you into a kiss that has you clinging to the straps of his apron and trying to tuck your gum into your cheek. He leads you inside despite your distracted state, relieving you of your purse and setting it on the table in the front entrance. Your arms slip around his neck, trusting him to hold your weight while you carefully toe off your heels and tuck them out of the way. You only break the kiss when you smell what he’s cooking, and he mouths along your jaw and neck as you breathe in.

“God, what is that?”

“Mm, I’m making Thai lettuce wraps and fish tacos. Shouldn’t be long before it’s done.” He replies against your throat, the depth of his voice vibrating through you.

“God, that sounds delicious.” You murmur, tangling your fingers in his hair and hissing as Dirk sinks his teeth into the meat of your breast, “Ow! If you’re that hungry, I have something else you can eat, baby.”

Dirk laughs at your cheesy come-on and playfully sultry tone, nipping your chin, then kissing you properly while he backs you through the house towards the kitchen. You’d love to get a good view of Dirk's gorgeous home, but you’re far too distracted by the way this stupidly hot older man is licking his way into your pliant mouth while his hands smooth down your back to grab handfuls of your ass. When you part for breath, Dirk grins as he starts to chew, and that's when you realise that he stole your gum. With any other guy, it would probably be not just weird, but gross. You know it’s gross. And yet, something about it makes your cunt throb, and you tug on his hair as punishment for his thievery.

“Sugar, if you wanted gum, you could’ve asked.” You croon at him, and he laughs then blows a bubble. You bite it to pop it, taking the gum from him and dropping it in the garbage can at the end of the island in Dirk’s stupidly pretty kitchen. You finally get a good look at the interior of the house, and you’re not surprised to find it colourful, but you’re impressed by how cohesive it is. The blend of complementary colours in the open concept kitchen, dining room and living room make each room’s most impressive features pop. In the kitchen, vintage appliances in mint green and hand-painted tiles. In the living room, a mismatch of comfortable furniture including a royal purple chaise lounge and a phthalo green cabriole sofa. Last but certainly not least, in the dining room, a china cabinet full of what looks like uranium glass pieces that you definitely want to get a closer look at.

“Ma déesse.” Dirk murmurs against your ear, and you hum inquisitively, not understanding him but recognizing at least that ‘ma’ is a possessive and that means he’s probably talking to or about you. He nibbles at your ear, then finally breaks away from you, “Je dois finir de cuisiner.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying, honey, but you can keep talking all you like.” You reply simply, drawing another chuckle from Dirk as he finally gets back to cooking. You leave him to it, venturing into the dining room to peer at his uranium glass collection. It’s all well-maintained and unscratched, so you think it’s probably safe to be around, especially behind the thick glass of the china cabinet. It truly doesn’t take much longer for dinner to be ready, and you hum with excitement when Dirk calls for you, practically prancing up behind him and putting your arms around his waist. He sighs blissfully as you nuzzle your cheek against his back, stopping in place to enjoy the feeling, and you feel a twinge in your heart as you realise that despite being a tv show host and a relatively high profile person, he doesn’t have a lot of contact that he wants. You think back to today when that one mom kept touching his arm, and how you’d sympathised with him due to your own experiences with being harassed by overeager buyers at the gallery. Breathing in the scent of his cologne, you nip at the bare curve of his shoulder blade, sliding your hands under the apron to stroke his stomach.

“Mmm, thanks for cooking, handsome. How can I possibly repay you?” You coo teasingly, playing with his treasure trail, and he practically purrs as he leans into your touch.

“Plus-tard, tu peux sucer ma bite. Nous devons d'abord manger.” He murmurs, twisting in your arms and gripping the back of your neck, tilting your head back for a proper kiss.

“Mmm, uh huh, whatever you say.” You reply against his lips between kisses, draping your arms around his neck and laughing as he blows a raspberry against your mouth. You slap at his chest in an attempt at getting away from the strong grasp he has on you. He turns you around and slaps you on the ass, then turns back to keep plating your meal.

“Go sit down. Island or dining room, whatever tickles your fancy. What do you want to drink? I have pomegranate juice, orange juice, Sprite, Dr. Pepper and… I think I have Coke? Somewhere?” Dirk bends to peer into his fridge, and you watch with a raised eyebrow and a sly smile, examining the plentiful curve of his ass.

“Oh, you should definitely keep looking for that Coke.” You reply playfully, and Dirk snorts, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

“Should I? Is that what you want to drink?”

“Mhmm, yeah, haven’t had a Coke in like six years but it is DEFINITELY what I want to drink today if it keeps you bent over.”

That earns you a genuine laugh, the pleasantly baffled sort that says he’s not quite sure how he got you to himself. You giggle as he bends over a little further, back arched dramatically just for the laughs it earns him. He gives a loud ‘Aha!’ as he straightens up with a bottle of Coke in hand, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Now you’ve gotta drink it.”

“Ohh, woe is me.”

“Find a seat, ma chérie, or you’ll never get what you’re so clearly gagging for.” Dirk retorts, and you feel your cheeks get hot even as you pull one of the low-backed stools at the island out. He sets a plate in front of you, followed by the bottle of Coke, then pecks your cheek as he rounds the island to take his own seat.

“God, this looks so good. If you want me to make you breakfast in return, I definitely can.” You offer, but Dirk shrugs, reaching across to squeeze your thigh under the skirt of your dress. You moan around a bite of a Thai lettuce wrap, eyes rolling back in your head at the savoury bite of the peanut sauce.

“I like taking care of you.” He replies simply, then folds the little soft shell tortilla of his fish taco and takes a massive bite. You snicker, reaching across to wipe sauce off of the corner of his mouth and laughing as he licks it off your fingertips. Dinner is a relaxing affair, with you both mostly just devouring your food and occasionally feeding each other. Which generally ends in giggling and having to clean each other up when you accidentally smush sauce on each other’s faces, but you don’t mind. The food is delicious, and you’re fairly sure that even if he sucks in bed, you’d probably stick around for a round 2 just to get more food and the chance to keep giggling with him. You haven’t had this good of a time in years.

Once you’re done with eating, you collect your plates and bring them over to put them in the dishwasher as instructed. You yelp as Dirk steps up behind you, slipping his arms around you to cup just under your breasts, lifting them so he can cup them in his palms. He bites gently along the curve of your neck, pressing his hips into your butt so you can feel his growing erection. A grin stretches across your lips, and you bend at the waist so you can put the dishes into the dishwasher, laughing at the soft groan Dirk lets out as he strokes his hands up and down the curve of your back.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Dirk mutters, and you give a little wiggle of your hips, then straighten up and lean back into his chest.

“You’re so fucking easy.” You retort, and he snorts, sliding his hands around to squeeze your tits again.

“For you? Hell yeah, baby.” He retorts, kissing along your shoulder as he gently squeezes and massages your chest. A breathy moan escapes your lips, and you lean back into his chest firmly, letting him hold your weight as he rolls his thumbs over your nipples through the fabric of your dress and bra. Dirk whispers in french against your ear, but you can barely pick up the words, far too keyed up to focus on anything but the feeling of his big hands squeezing your chest. You reach behind you to clutch at his hair and Dirk groans softly against your ear, peppering kisses across your cheek. He spins you in his arms, laughing as you instantly pull the neck of the apron over his head, tossing it to the side so you can get your hands on his bare skin.

"Have you stretched today?" Dirk asks while stroking your sides, grabbing handfuls of your hips and squeezing. You moan quietly, running your open hands over his chest so you can feel the tickle of his chest hair against your palms.

"Uh..." Your cheeks grow hot, and you feel stupid, but can't help yourself but ask, "Do you mean my-"

Dirk interrupts you with a laugh, kissing you softly as he nuzzles his nose against yours in a surprisingly affectionate manner, "No, mon trésor, your pretty body. These incredible legs."

You gasp as he pulls one of your legs up to his hip, squeezing your thigh hard enough to almost hurt in a delicious way that sends sparks up your spine. You're already wet and he's barely even touched you.

"Uhm, I did yoga during my lunch break." You mumble, "for like, fifteen minutes."

Another laugh, and Dirk kisses you again, hooking his hands under your thighs and lifting you up onto his hips. You cling to his back as he carries you further into his house. You pass a simple bathroom that seems to have mosaics in tile across the floors and walls in the brief glance you get, then a series of photographs and accolades in the stairwell up to the second floor. Dirk pauses by a dark room that seems to be relatively empty, before humming to himself in a way that you read as ‘maybe later’ before he continues on past another bathroom and what looks like two guest bedrooms. An office is next, and then he’s kicking open the door to the master bedroom. This room seems to be the most normal in the house, though it is no less artistic. There’s a huge stained glass window and door that leads to a balcony with gold leafing on the metal. The California king-sized bed is pushed into an arch-shaped alcove in the wall, piled high with blankets, and resting on a plush carpet that you’re sure would feel like silk under your toes. The walls are aegean blue and covered with large, extremely intricate gold mandalas that you can’t help but stare at even as Dirk works a lovebite into the delicate skin of your throat.

“Your bedroom is beautiful.” You mumble, and he hums what may have been a thank you as you stroke his hair. There’s a large walnut vanity against the opposite wall of the bed, though the spot across from the end of the bed is taken up by what absolutely must be a custom mirror considering the size of it and the intricacy of the gold-leafed frame. There’s a door next to the vanity that leads to what looks like a massive bathroom, and the closet has double doors, so you assume it’s a walk-in. Dirk carries you over to the bed and lays you back on his navy sheets, crawling over you as he kisses down the centre of your chest.

“Can I take your dress off?” He asks, and you groan softly, trying to remember what underwear you wore today. A lick to the top of your breast wipes that thought from your mind, and you nod quickly, breath stuttering in your throat. Dirk loosens the corset bodice with clever fingers, nuzzling his nose and tickly moustache against the skin between your breasts. You lift your hips as he pulls the dress up to your waist, then let him support the arch of your back as he tugs it over your head, and your cheeks get hot as you realise what you’re wearing underneath. Dirk freezes, licking his lips, and you groan softly with embarrassment.

Large hands skillfully unclip your cow-print bra, and you let out a ragged gasp as Dirk bites the curve of your breast as he removes it. You almost think he’s going to let you get away with it until he rolls his tongue over your nipple, gives it a quick suck, then pouts up at you as he rests his chin against your chest.

“Aww, I thought I’d get a little milk for my efforts.” he teases, and you bat at him.

“It’s my laundry day! You try having a fucking seven year old!” You complain, cheeks on fire.

“Non, non, ne vous méprenez pas. J'aime votre lingerie.” Dirk insists, and you scowl at him until he realises his use of his native tongue, “Don’t misunderstand me. I love your underwear, my sweet girl. Especially these.”

You gasp as he tugs on the front of the novelty thong you’re wearing, a white strip of a thing with ‘I love cock sauce’ written on the front. His grin makes you want to slap him, but you refrain, just barely. You’re tempted to make excuses and tell him that it was novelty underwear that came in a box of extra hot hot sauce, but you decide against it.

“And here I thought you’d be more interested in what’s beneath it.” You purr, pushing him back a little so he can watch as you pull your thong aside, rub your fingers through the wet mess of your cunt, then slide one finger inside of yourself. Dirk groans lowly, stroking your thighs as he watches, his pupils blown with desire. You smirk at him as you add a second finger on your next thrust, and finally, Dirk snaps out of his awed surveillance. He leans down to kiss along your stomach, using his knees to spread your legs wider while slapping your hand away, then cupping your cunt in his palm.

“How much do you care for that thong?” Dirk asks quietly, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t.”

“Fantastique.” He replies, gripping the fabric in one hand and ripping it off of you, “I’ll give you some of mine instead.”

You stare at him with an open mouth, not your most attractive look, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He cups you again, leaning down to trail his lips across your chest, swirling his tongue around your nipples as he sucks first one, and then the other into his mouth.

“Your moustache tickles.” You mumble and he laughs quietly against your skin, “S’kinda nice.”

“I’m glad you like it, chérie. Let me know how it feels on your pretty cunt, oui?” He coos playfully, kissing his way down your stomach. He leans up for a moment to say ‘Alexa, play red playlist’ before dipping back down to swirl his tongue in your belly button in a way that makes you yelp and laugh. Music fills the room at just the right volume, and you run your fingers through Dirk’s caramel hair as the low instrumentals fill the room. You’re surprised to find the vibes just right - not too serious, not the bassy kind of shit that acts more as a pace-guide than anything else, and nothing loud enough to take you out of the moment. It takes Dirk a second to get settled between your legs, and you feel your cunt throb as you just barely hear him mumbling to himself over the music.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m introducing myself to your pretty little pussy, ma déesse. Telling her how pretty she is. How much I’m going to love on her.” Dirk replies, “I’ll make you feel so good, princesse. Tu me rends fou - fuck, so fucking stunning.”

You cover your face, whining softly as he finally leans in to kiss your clit, gentle as can be. His moustache tickles, and you start to close your legs, but he gives your thigh a sharp slap.

“Open, baby. Let me lick your pretty little pussy. She’s so lonely.” Dirk coos, pouting sympathetically up at you, then running the flat of his tongue across the length of your cunt. You arch off the bed, and he puts an arm over your stomach to hold you still as he laps up the honey dripping from you.

“God, Dirk, Jesus!” You gasp, and he snickers.

“Calling out to all of your deities, princesse?” he teases, closing his lips around your labia and sucking gently to love on all of you. He’s sloppy at first, intentionally so, warming you up with wide laps of the flat of his tongue, then fucking his tongue into your clenching heat while you gasp and yank on his hair. He doesn’t seem bothered at all by how rough you are with him, humming happily as he closes his lips around your clit and you nearly yank his hair out at the roots.

“Fuck, fuck, why’re you so good?” You moan, and Dirk practically purrs, delving in a little more eagerly. He rolls his tongue over your clit, trapping the sensitive bud in his mouth while he presses two thick fingers into your cunt. You nearly kick him in the ribs, gasping for breath at the sudden fullness, since his digits are far thicker than yours and it’s been a while since you’ve had a play time with your vibrator.

“Relax, mon trésor, I’ll take care of you. Je vais te faire sentir si bien. Vous ne voudrez jamais partir.” He coos, and noticing the way you yank on his hair, he glances up to meet your eyes and translate for you, “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby. You’re never going to want to leave.”

Your moans are probably deafening - you can’t tell if you’re being too loud, you’re too lost in sensation as Dirk’s fingers press into the spot inside of you that makes you clench around him tight enough that he chuckles. He strokes that spot as he rolls your clit in his mouth, and you feel your spine stiffen as you get closer to the edge.

“You’re going to strangle my cock.” He teases, and you groan in response, pushing his face back down against your cunt needily.

“Keep your mouth busy, m’so close.”

“Demanding.” he coos, and it sounds like praise as he gets back to work on your dripping pussy.

“Shut the fuck up, oh my god, please, make me cum.” You beg, and Dirk laughs against you, thrusting his fingers faster into you as he sucks your clit with a bit more determination, finally taking your pleasure a little bit more seriously. He moans around you, spreading his fingers a little to stretch you open a bit more. The pressure builds and builds, and you yank on his hair as a hard suck to your clit sends you reeling over the edge of the cliff into oblivion. Your vision goes white, your legs shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, and Dirk strokes them soothingly as he laps up the evidence of your release. He pulls away just as you start to get overly sensitive, and he kisses a trail up your belly as he settles between your legs.

“Fuck.” You pant, staring up at the ceiling as your vision is returned to you, and you blink a couple of times.

“Such a foul mouth.” Dirk teases playfully, kissing you so softly you barely even feel it. His moustache is wet with your essence as he drops his lips to kiss along your neck, letting you catch your breath. He seems so unhurried, but you can feel the throb of his cock through his too-tight jeans. When you look down, you find them undone, likely to give himself some breathing room, and you smile at the sight of the pink head of his cock sticking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Take those stupid jeans off. You’re gonna cut circulation off to your balls with pants that tight.” You mutter, and he laughs but obediently shuffles out of his trousers, shedding his boxers along with them.

“You okay for more, or do you need a break?” Dirk asks, and you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m fine. Don’t get cocky.” You retort, and he shows you his teeth with how wide he grins.

“Okay, Miss ‘Why are you so good?’. I’m just being polite.”

Your cheeks are on fire as you spit in your hand and wrap it around him, stroking him from base to tip. You’re just a little bit mean with the way you squeeze the head, then reach down to cup and roll his balls in your palm. He chokes, then laughs breathily as he arches into your hand, a rumbly groan rising in his chest.

“Okay, okay, point taken. C’mon, chérie, hands and knees.” Dirk ‘helps’ you roll over onto your belly, though it’s more of a hindrance than anything since he keeps grabbing and squeezing your ass. You situate yourself, getting as comfortable as you can, knowing this is going to be a lot but unwilling to stop. Dirk strokes your lower back, adjusting the angle as he rubs the head of his cock against you. You try to relax, but you’re admittedly nervous - he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, and you know his girth is going to be a bit overwhelming at first.

“Deep breath, baby. Biiiig stretch.” Dirk coos, and you would kick him if he wasn’t pressing the thick head of his cock into you, wiping every thought you’ve ever had from your mind. You grip his sheets tightly, going from your hands to bracing on your forearms with one single thrust. You feel uprooted. Unmoored and awash in riptide by the stretch of too much too fast. It feels like it goes on forever, but eventually, Dirk’s pelvis presses up against your ass, and he pets your lower back adoringly. You can feel his groan vibrating through you despite the fact that he isn’t leaning over your body yet, and you’re surprised to find it as loud as your own cry of his name. He stays still for the moment, letting you catch your breath while you deal with the fact that you can feel him in your lungs - can barely breathe for how deep he is.

“Not compensating.” You mumble under your breath, dizzy with fullness, and Dirk hums inquisitively, but you shake your head.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you reach back one arm to smack him as if he’s doing something wrong by checking in. Luckily, he seems to find it amusing, as he chuckles at you and catches your hand. You shiver as he slides his hand up your forearm.

“Wait, Dirk-” You protest, but you’re not quick enough. He pulls you up by your arm, grabbing the other with his free hand, and you cry out at the change in angle. The pressure inside of you eases as he slowly pulls out, but the relief is short-lived, and you whine as he thrusts back in rather sharply. He sets a measured pace, not too slow, but not quick enough that you don’t take every single inch of him with every rock of his hips. Strong hands hold you by the arms, keeping you somewhat upright as he makes a solid effort at breaking you. Your breasts bounce every time he ruts into you, and if you were capable of conscious thought at the moment, you’d realise how sore you’re going to be later from this position. Eventually, Dirk seems to have pity, releasing his grip on your arms and pushing you down into the mattress instead, panting fervent French as he rocks your world.

You’re drooling. You can feel it under your face, and you’re fairly sure you’re cross-eyed, lost in the pleasure he’s giving you. You can feel yourself rocking back into his thrusts, taking as eagerly as he gives it to you, forcing him to be just a little rougher. If you’re going to ache later, you want it to be a bone-deep ache that’s worth the monumental effort. His hand slides up your spine to cup the back of your neck, both of you slick with sweat, and you have no idea how long it is before his other hand slips between your legs and starts to play with your aching clit.

“Come for me, love, come on. Fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous, how the fuck did I get you to come home with me? C’mon baby, lemme make you feel good. Let go for me.” Dirk groans behind you, and you feel dizzy and cockdumb as he finds the right angle to send you screaming over the edge again. A ragged groan rips from your lover’s lips as you clench around him, and his hips stutter, the pace of his thrusts ruined. You cling to the sheets as you feel heat flood your cunt, the last couple of pumps of Dirk’s hips fucking it deeper into you. He doesn’t collapse atop you, instead carefully manuevering the both of you until you’re laying against his bare chest, face nuzzled into his fuzzy pec.

“You okay?” Dirk asks after a few minutes of panting for breath and snuggling. You groan against his skin.

“I think you broke my hips.” You retort, and he laughs, giving you a gentle squeeze on the butt.

“I promise I didn’t, chérie. Relax a little longer, then I’ll clean us up. Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Dirk asks, and you melt at his gentle tone, pouting a little as you consider your options.

“Maybe. Is more off the table?”

“Never, ma déesse.” Dirk replies, and you hum, leaning up to kiss him softly. He pets your hair back out of your face, lips pressing to your eyelids, and then your nose before returning to your wanting mouth.

“Don’t commit to something you can’t keep up with. I know you’re older than me.” You remind him, and he gives a diva-like gasp, though he’s still grinning.

“I’m only forty.” He protests, “Still plenty young enough to rock your world. Clearly.”

You giggle, using every ounce of willpower you have to pull yourself up from your position snuggled up against his side, throwing a leg over his hips so you can sit on top of him.

“So, you’re ready to fuck me again?” You ask, brow raised skeptically. He snorts, holding your hips to keep you steady and pushing his thumbs into the softer skin in the curve of your pelvis.

“Find me a guy older than 20 who can manage that, ma petite femme. But, I can take care of your pretty little cunt until I’m ready.” Dirk promises, sweeping his hands up over your sides, “Wanna meet Crème Brûlée?”

You can’t help but laugh, leaning down to kiss him again, “Didn’t I already?”

He laughs, rolling you both over so he can get up, then helping you to your feet. Your legs are a little unsteady, so he pointedly raises an eyebrow at you, but helps you from the room.

“I am not juvenile enough to have named my dick.” he insists, and you snort, following him towards the dark room he’d mused over earlier that night.

“Liar. I don’t believe that for a second!”

“Well, I’m certainly not telling you when you’re just going to make fun of me. Calling me old and cocky. Very rude.” He teases as he opens the door fully and flicks on the light. The room is a deep, royal purple, with one wall entirely taken up by mirrors. There’s a large vanity by the window, and racks of outfits that look like they each might’ve cost a thousand dollars minimum. There’s also a massage table tucked into a corner, likely only pulled out when it’s to be used.

“This is where I keep my nicer stuff. Including Crème Brûlée.” Dirk gestures to the centre of the room, where a dark waterproof mat is set out, and upon which rests what you vaguely recognise as a sybian from a little too much time on the Hub. Your eyes go wide as saucers, and Dirk strokes your lower back soothingly, nipping the tip of your ear.

“Is that…?”

“Mhm. No pressure, baby. If you aren’t into it-”

“I am very into it. Very. Gimme a second to take this in.” You cut him off, and he laughs quietly as he slips up behind you instead. His lips trail a path across your shoulder, hands stroking over your bare stomach before one slips between your legs to collect the cum leaking from you and push it back inside, “These are like, several grand.”

Dirk hums his agreement, stroking wet fingers over your clit, “With the attachments? Certainly. Do you wanna try him out?”

You whimper, grabbing and squeezing his forearm gently as you consider it.

“Yeah. But I don’t want you to stop touching me.” You admit, and he sighs dreamily, rewarding you with slow strokes to your clit.

“I won’t. I can sit behind you, play with your pretty body while you ride it. Once I’m ready, I can even fuck you on it. We can see how many times I can make you come before me.” Dirk’s offer is salacious, and you wet your lips, excitement sending heat burning up your spine.

“Yeah… yeah, ruin me.” You request, and you feel Dirk’s groan as much as you hear it. He guides you over to the toy, wiping it down with a body-safe sex toy cleaner just to be extra safe before he guides you to sit atop the grinder pad. He lets you get settled, fetching a bottle of lube that he sets on the corner of the mat within reach, then sits behind you on the machine. You sigh as he warms up some lube in his hand before he generously rubs it into your cunt, coating you in it to protect you from any possible irritation since the grinder pad is big enough to cover most of you. Once you’re settled and comfortable, he rubs the excess over his cock and balls just in case, then reaches for the remote.

“Ready, baby?”

“Ready. I want you to fuck me again as soon as you’re ready. Need to feel you stretch me open again.” You murmur, breathless with excitement, and it’s the last coherent thought you have for quite some time. The vibration starts relatively gentle, but still overwhelming in your post-orgasmic state. You tremble, attempting to lift your hips, but Dirk grabs you and holds you down.

“Ah, ah, ah. Be a good girl.” Dirk commands, and your spine turns to jelly. It’s too easy to make you come this quickly after the last one. As soon as Dirk turns the sybian up a notch, and then two, you’re crying out for mercy as you lean back into his sturdy chest, your hands reaching back to blindly tangle in his hair. One orgasm turns into two as he turns it up even higher, and you can hear yourself sobbing, distantly, almost like it’s someone else. Dirk gently pushes you to lean forwards, and you gasp for air as the blunt head of his cock presses into you mercilessly. He pulls you back to sit on him, positioning you so that your clit is still rubbing against the grinder pad, and you see stars. Lightning flashes behind your eyes as two turns to three.

“Gripping me like a vice.” Dirk growls against your shoulder, and you sob his name, clinging to him like he’ll save you from the torment he’s putting you through, “I’m not going to last if you keep this up.”

Like it’s your fault.

You scream as your fourth orgasm on the sybian rips through you like a bullet, and you’re shaking as Dirk finally pulls you up off of the machine, laying you down beside it with a fresh load of his cum stuffed deep inside you. He turns off the machine, collapsing beside you on the mat and pulling you into his arms, panting for breath. You blink to try and clear the fog from your brain, glancing at his watch to find you’ve been on the sybian for quite a while, even if it’s felt like both five seconds and five hours.

“You okay?” Dirk asks again, and this time, you curl into his arms and nod sleepily.

“So, so beyond okay.”

You wake in the morning curled up in Dirk’s lavish bed, naked but clean, your face buried in his chest. His arm is looped around your shoulders, your legs tangled together, and the sound of his heartbeat is so soothing you almost go back to sleep. Instead, you sit up, straddling Dirk’s leg simply because of the position you’d been in when you awoke. He blinks blearily up at you, rubbing one large hand over his face, then yawning.

“Bonjour.” He mumbles, and you smile, leaning down to kiss him closed-mouth to avoid morning breath. He smiles up at you in that dreamy way that makes you melt like warm butter, “There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. I’ll use the other one. Steal whatever you need, and I’ll get some clothes for you.”

You thank him, slipping out of bed and stretching, bare as the day you were born. It takes you a second to walk properly, but you manage, heading into the bathroom to wash up. By the time you leave, the bedroom is empty save for a shirt and a pair of boxers on the vanity. The shirt is a Dirk Brûlée shirt which makes you snicker, while the boxers have little Sriracha bottles on them and ‘Flaming Hot’ on the ass.

When you enter the kitchen, you find Dirk cooking breakfast in a pair of obnoxious silk boxers while listening to 80s pop music. He smiles at you as you come into view and sit at the island, a hint of something in his eyes that makes your tummy do somersaults. You grab a knife from the block, and an apple from the fruit bowl on his counter, cutting it into slices while you watch him shimmy around the kitchen cooking what looks like far too much food for two. You’re far too fond of him to protest. Instead, you pop a slice of apple into your mouth and stare at the little dimples in his lower back.

“How do you want your eggs, ma petite femme?” Dirk asks, and you gaze dreamily at his stupidly pretty face, chin propped up on your fist.

“Fertilised.” You reply mindlessly, then slip another slice of apple into your mouth. Dirk’s laugh is loud and disbelievingly happy, and he leans across the island to kiss you.

“I can make that happen.”

“Should I throw out my birth control?” You ask playfully, and he snickers.

“Who says I haven’t already?”

“Usually you don’t tell someone when you’re gonna baby trap them, honey.”

“Is it a trap if you know about it?” Dirk queries, flipping a pancake and grinning at you. You can’t help yourself. You get up from your stool, circling the island to wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his back.

“You can baby trap me any day, sugar.”

The weekend passes in a whirlwind of laughter and fun and ridiculously good sex. You try out Dirk’s hot tub, then laze around catching sun in his pool. Overheated, you both lay on the couch to watch a movie with cold juice, cuddling even though you’re both too hot for it to be totally comfortable. Dirk translates his pet names for you, though he refuses to translate ‘ma petite femme’ even though that one seems the most obvious to you. He tells you his future plans for the show, and listens while you tell him all about your job at the gallery.

You both take a good hundred pictures throughout the weekend, though neither of you post any of them. You make lunch, and Dirk orders out for dinner as a little treat. He doesn’t like going out too often since most restaurants have the allure of alcohol, and he’s still recovering. He shows you his five year coin, which he keeps on him at all times. He tells you about his parents, and you tell him about yours, and Sean, and he strokes your hair as you vent a little bit about how hard it’s been raising him on your own.

By Sunday afternoon, you dread the thought of leaving. You’ve always been quite independent, but you don’t want to be away from Dirk. He promises to call you, offers several times to let you stay over with Sean, though you both agree that might be a little weird for the poor kid and decide against it. He kisses you about a thousand times before letting you leave, and you see him watching you from the window as you drive off.

Your home feels cold and lifeless when you get home, and you lament the lack of colour. You’ve never been bold enough to go wild with decorating your condo, knowing you’ll have to pay an arm and a leg to repaint it should you ever want to sell. You’ve been home for twenty minutes and you’re already sick of it. As you sit at your computer, still wearing Dirk’s shirt, boxers and a pair of gym shorts, you google ‘ma petite femme’ on a whim.

The direct translation is ‘my little woman’, but you note that it is used instead to mean ‘my little wife’ in practice.

You change into your own clothes, then head out to get groceries for the week. As you’re on your way home, you stop in at a nearby store where you pretend you’ve never been before as a very upstanding single mother. You walk out with a discreet bag, and head home to put away your groceries. Finally, once you’re done and you’ve sufficiently adulted for the day, you unwrap your purchase. Three hours after you left Dirk’s house, he receives a photo of a vibrant pink cock ring in a ring box, and a simple text message.

You need to rename your sybian. I wanna be Crèmed Brûlée.

#Dirk Brûlée x reader #everything at once #Dirk Brûlée #what the hell is this #i do not apologize #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl

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mushiewrites · 2 years

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Handsy Hyperfixation

so.....to give an idea of what this monster of a fic is, @awkwardtickleetoo wanted me to name this "Mushie's Self Indulgent Hand Fic", and in my google docs this is labeled "passing out throwing up"...so yeah. this was made back in december and i randomly wrote out 4k words one morning in a frenzy after a picture of dream's hands and thinking about how big they are...and now here we are, over 3k additional words later. it is honestly the most flustering thing I've written yet (to me), cal and i have had trouble even reading through it before it was finished... so yep. here it is! the mega self indulgent hand fic. i hope u all enjoy 😵‍💫

dream catches george starring at his hands from across the room, so he decides to give george a closer look at how much bigger they are than his, and what they're actually capable of

(lee!George / ler!Dream : 7.2k words 🫠)

Four. That’s how many times Dream had counted that George was staring at him. Although, he couldn’t tell if it really counted as staring at him; the brunette was clearly focused on his hands. He had noticed for a while now, even before today, that he would catch George staring at them whenever he would do anything with his hands. At first he figured George would be just watching whatever he’d be doing, but after a while he caught on; it was actually just his hands.

Now, Dream had a theory about why. George was so much smaller than him, and the elder loved to point it out; even more so now that they lived together. In the first two days that George was in Florida he had somehow managed to wrangle up four of Dream’s hoodies, two T-Shirts and a pair of OU sweatpants that he had no idea how George would ever be able to wear them.

George had pointed out multiple times how much bigger Dream’s hands are, how they completely engulf his fist and some of his wrist. The blonde would let him take his hand and compare it with his own, still commenting on how much larger they were. Dream didn’t think it was weird in the slightest, but he noticed that the more time that passed, the more and more he caught George staring. It had been the fourth time in the last hour, with the older boy thinking he was going unnoticed. Though in reality, Dream was sure he’d feel his stare from a mile away.

“Are you really staring at them again?” Dream watched as the sudden question made George jump, wide eyes staring back at him with his cheeks turning a dusty pink as the realization hit that he’d been caught. The younger boy giggled at the way George’s jaw had slightly dropped and how quickly he had closed it with a nervous gulp.

“Staring at what, idiot? I’m not staring at anything!” George spat out after a very tense few seconds while he wracked his brain for things to say. Dream giggled at his sorry excuse of an answer and held up his hands, wiggling his fingers slightly. A smirk formed on his face as he watched George’s cheeks go from pink to red at the action, causing the older boy to break eye contact and look anywhere but at him.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, George,” the smaller boy shuddered at the accusation, looking up briefly when he saw Dream stand up from the couch and walk over to where he was on the other end. “My hands, idiot.”

“What about your stupid hands?” George bit back, clearly flustered at the prospect of having to admit the truth. Dream’s smirk grew even more as he reached his destination, his knees knocking into George’s as he looked down at him.

“You were staring. Don’t deny it, I caught you red handed George.” Dream was quick to shut George down when he saw his mouth open to protest, making sure he knew that Dream knew his little secret.

“Y-You’re an actual idiot. You’re the idiot! Why would I be looking at your stupid- HEHEHEY!” George was cut off mid-argument when he felt two squeezes on his sides, making him fall back further into the couch cushions.

He brought his legs up to his chest out of habit to protect himself, but he quickly realized he had set himself up as Dream squeezed at the back of his thighs, making him scream out and kick his feet up. This only encouraged Dream to grab one of the flailing ankles, gripping it tightly as he scribbled his nails quickly up and down George’s foot. The older boy squealed and fell to his side, giving Dream the opportunity to grab the other ankle and yank them down so his legs were flat against the couch cushions. Once he forcefully maneuvered the smaller boy to lay on his back, Dream straddled his waist, successfully trapping him.

George was frantically kicking his feet against the couch, trying to dig his heel into it to gain leverage to buck Dream off but finding it harder than he thought it would be. He pushed himself up onto his elbows to try and fully sit up, hoping maybe there was a chance he could get Dream quick enough to make him crumble, but was immediately pushed back down by one of Dream’s hands against his chest. George let out a desperate whine, pushing at Dream’s knees as a last resort to try and loosen the grip they had around his waist but finding it impossible to move him. He was truly fucked.

“Am I the idiot? I’d say an idiot is more like someone in your situation right now, Georgie.” Dream chuckled as he grabbed George’s sides once more to make him buck his hips up with a yelp. The blonde noticed that George still wasn’t looking at him, and Dream could tell he was almost too flustered to function.

“Sh-Shuhut uhup!” George replied through his giggles. He did his best to sound intimidating, but he knew it was impossible with all his squeaks and noises. He threw his head back against the couch cushions with a cackle as Dream moved his hands up to his ribcage, squirming as the tickly feeling spread throughout his ribs.

“Look at that, George! My hands basically cover your entire rib cage,” Dream fanned his fingers out as far as they’d go, smiling down at George as he confirmed they did in fact reach from the top of his ribs to the bottom, even a little on the boy's sides as well. “You’re just so tiny, I guess it makes sense.”

George felt as if his head would pop at any second, his mind so floaty he felt like an overly filled balloon. He couldn’t do anything but laugh and watch as Dream’s fingers covered the expanse of his upper torso. He squeezed his eyes closed after a few seconds and brought his hands up to hide behind them, too flustered to continue seeing himself getting tickled to pieces.

But Dream was right; George WAS staring at his hands. It started a few months ago when they had been arguing over something, George stealing the remote or Dream’s phone. He was fast but Dream was strong, and so when he finally caught up to the smaller boy, Dream had gripped his wrist to stop him from getting away. The way one of Dream’s hands had completely wrapped around both of George’s wrists had him feeling faint. He swore he was genuinely dizzy when he realized how much bigger Dream actually was than him.

“I have an idea!” George flinched as Dream broke the silence once more, cracking one eye open to see the bright smile above him. He noticed movement below his vision and leaned his head up slightly, eyes widening in horror as Dream pressed the heel of his hand into his lower tummy, moving it teasingly to make the older boy squeak out a giggle. He placed the rest of his hand down on George’s tummy, spreading his fingers out and pressing the tips of them into the soft skin below.

“Why don’t we see how many spots I can reach with just one hand?”

The second George’s mind registered what Dream suggested he froze, staring up into bright green eyes with a tiny nervous giggle slipping out. It was like his brain short circuited - he couldn’t find the words to protest; he couldn’t form words to describe how much that idea had flustered him.

When he finally had the ability to move his body again he immediately pushed up, trying to launch himself forward to knock Dream off of him to escape. It turns out that Dream had anticipated this and pressed down on George’s stomach, keeping the smaller boy in place. George let out a whine, kicking his legs in a mix of frustration and excitement when he realized he truly was stuck beneath Dream’s hand on his tummy.

“P-Please Dream! Don’t!” He managed to keep his giggles down as he felt Dream pulse his fingers against his skin once, using just enough pressure for it to tickle but not for it to be unbearable. George knew it was on purpose; if Dream wanted it to really tickle, it would’ve tickled like hell.

“Why not, George? You seemed to be so interested in my hands before, I figured you’d like a closer look! And I’m even showing you them in action! Aren’t I nice?” As Dream spoke he began to do the jellyfish technique of dragging his fingertips together in the center of his tummy before fanning them back out, taking George by surprise and causing him to squeal. He fell into high pitched giggles as Dream continued to slowly and gently drag his fingertips in and out, following the jumpy tummy even as it squirmed away.

Even though George wanted to return a snarky comment Dream’s way, he was unable to with how hard he was laughing. Dream had managed to position his ring finger over his ribs, digging right into the muscle between the bones. Once Dream realized this was a more sensitive spot for George, he used more pressure, giggling quietly himself as the boy beneath him practically convulsed with ticklish energy.

“I said, aren’t I nice?” With that, Dream pressed into his lower ribs on the other side of George with his thumb, watching as the brunettes struggling became more frantic.

“Y-YEHEHES YES! PLEHEASE NOHOHO! I’M SORRY DREHEHEAM!” Dream chuckled at his friend's reaction, shaking his head slightly as he continued to wiggle his fingertip’s into the quivering tummy. He leaned forward, using his free hand to press down slightly on George’s shoulder to keep him in place.

“I’m sorry George, but it’s a little too late for apologies now.” Dream let out an overexaggerated sigh, playing up the disappointment before suddenly digging his fingers into George’s tummy, vibrating his hand as well. George let out a shriek, kicking and thrashing and grabbing at Dream’s hand to try and pull it off his stomach.

But Dream was having none of this. He easily scooped up George’s wrists in one hand, pressing them against his chest to keep them out of the way. Dream placed his hand back down onto George’s tummy, his fingertips almost reaching where he was keeping the older boy’s hands hostage. He wasted no time in digging back in, vibrating a little quicker to punish George for interrupting him in the first place.

“PLEHEASE D-DREHEAM I CAHAN’T- I CAHAHAN’T BREHEATHE!” The brunette shrieked between his cackles, squeezing his eyes even tighter as he pulled at his hands to try and break free from Dream’s grip. Just as he had suspected, nothing worked.

“You’re speaking George, that means you’re breathing. You’re just dramatic.” Dream replied nonchalantly, still slowing down to make sure George was okay. The smaller boy was taking in gulps of air between his laughter, Dream still digging in slightly but not as intense as before. He slowly allowed his fingers to come to a stop, staying in place against the warm skin.

“O-Ohoho my gosh. W-Why?” he panted out, opening his eyes again just to give Dream his best puppy dog eyes in the hopes that he would take mercy on him and leave him (and the subject matter) alone.

“Because, I’m just giving you what you want, Georgie,” Dream began, letting go of the boy’s wrists but grabbing one of his hands to lightly drag his thumb over the back of it to help comfort him. “We both know you were thinking about how much my hands tickle. And we both know it tickles so much because you’re so small, and my hands are so big that they cover most of your spots at one time.”

The comment made George’s cheeks heat up, feeling as if tiny fireworks were bursting out of the freckles on his skin. He brought his free hand up to slap it over his face, hiding as much of himself as he could to try and relieve some of the embarrassment. A long whine made its way up his throat and passed through his lips without his permission, making him squirm even more due to how flustering the situation was.

Dream barked out a laugh at that, letting George continue to hide himself as he turned his attention back to his hand on the tummy between his thighs. He pressed his fingertips against George’s stomach a few times, earning a squeak and a kick from him as well as a few stray giggles.

“Let’s just see what spots I can reach, shall we?” The blonde didn’t wait for George to answer, instead stilling all of his fingers except his thumb that was pressing repeatedly into the lower ribs and upper side on the left of George’s body. Dream watched as he threw his body to the right, attempting to escape from the pokes and prods that were sending tiny sparks of ticklish bolts throughout his left side.

“See, this is a good spot that my thumb is resting against,” Dream pressed in a little quicker with his thumb on George’s lower ribs to emphasize which spot he was talking about. “It lets me get your extremely ticklish bottom ribs, and it lets me press into your extremely ticklish sides! Sounds extremely ticklish, huh George?”

Too busy laughing, George was only able to nod his head in agreement, causing Dream to coo at him and apply more pressure. This caused George’s legs to start kicking against the couch cushions again, this time a little more sporadic due to the tickly sensations that were shooting into his side and down his leg. Dream began to rub circles into the bottom two ribs, making George buck up with a screech before he reached down to pull at Dream’s hand once again.

“Ah ah ah, no blocking me! You know what that means.” George’s eyes snapped open, flinging his hand away from his face and silently pleading up at Dream while shaking his head back and forth frantically.

“I-I’m sohohorry! I promise I wohon’t dohoho it again!” The smaller boy tried his hardest to make sure Dream knew he was serious, but it seemed he didn’t care in the slightest whether George was actually sorry or not. He shook his head at the boy below him and smirked, grabbing the hand that George had tried to use to stop him and placing it down to his side against the couch. Dream moved his knee over George’s wrist, keeping it in place so that he once again had a free hand.

“I’m sorry baby, but rules are rules! Now, back to what I was saying,” Dream began to continue, earning a surprised squeak from George as the hand against his tummy sprung back to life, the thumb resuming the light circles along the boy’s very sensitive bottom ribs. “This is just such a good spot. One of my favorites. Never fails to make you laugh, does it?”

Dream could feel the hand under his knee attempt to wiggle free, so he leaned more of his weight against it, careful not to hurt George but enough that he had absolutely no hope of escaping. The older boy was practically howling at the way Dream was rubbing circles into the bottom rib, thrashing and trying to roll over to cover the spot and dislodge the tickling hand.

After a few more minutes the circles turned into a palm pressed against that spot, rubbing slightly to help the ghost tickles subside. Dream waited until George’s laughter had calmed down to light giggling before he decided to continue with the task at hand. He pressed his pointer finger into the skin, feeling the inner edge of George’s rib and moving it slightly to press around the spaces between both sides of his ribcage.

“My pointer finger can reach the middle of your ribs and upper tummy, how does that feel, pretty boy? Hm?” He followed the question with a series of small but powerful pokes, making George kick every time Dream landed one on his ribs. The taunting tone of his voice made it even harder for George to focus on anything but the teases and how badly it tickled. He truly was a flustered mess.

“I-Ihihit t-tihihickles!” George couldn’t help but bring his free hand back over his face, embarrassed by how squeaky and high pitched he sounded through his giggles. Dream smiled at how adorable the sight was, using his pointer finger to do little swirls with his nail. This made George’s giggles jump even higher in pitch, making him shake his head and pull at his wrist in an attempt to hide himself even further.

“It does, huh? Right here, on your ticklish little ribs?” George whined through his laughter at that, turning his head to the side and throwing his arm over his face to hide how red it was becoming. Dream giggled, continuing to tease him as he tapped a few times on his skin before kneading in a bit. “It tickles right here, George?”

The older boy could do nothing but nod at Dream’s question, the description he asked so nonchalantly making George’s head spin. He kept his arm over his face even as Dream decided to use a good amount of pressure to knead circles against the bones. George was wailing at this technique that was clearly tickling him silly. Dream couldn’t help but laugh along with him, finding George’s laughter to always be so contagious. He watched the brunette thrash himself from side to side like a squirmy little worm, making that comment out loud to him just to watch the tips of George’s ears turn red as well.

“Wow, this really is a good spot, isn’t it sweetheart? You’re laughing your little heart out! You’re just a squirmy little ticklish worm, aren’t you?” The blonde cooed, making George squeeze his eyes shut even more. He knew his face was covered but he felt so exposed and so vulnerable under Dream’s hand like this. He couldn’t understand why, but he fucking loved it.

“Okay, let’s give this sensitive little spot a break. How about we go on to the next spot?” Dream asked, not waiting for an answer as he poked his middle finger against the skin a little below his sternum three times. George jolted upwards, not laughing as hard as the previous spot but still cackling enough to let Dream know that what he was doing was working.

“D-Dreheheam please! I cahan’t take ihihit!” George whined through his giggles, finally moving his arm away from his face and opening his eyes to plead once again with Dream. The taller boy flashed his white teeth at him through a big smile, shaking his head back at him slowly.

“I’ve seen you take much worse than this! This is nothing,” Dream explained, as if George wasn’t the one experiencing the tickling. “You’re just a little overly sensitive today, that’s all.”

The elder rolled his eyes at that, earning a quick squeeze to the upper thigh from Dream’s free hand and making him shriek before falling back into bright giggles as the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came.

“N-Nohohot fair, Dream!” George pouted through his jagged breathing, not appreciating the sudden squeeze to his death spot for simply rolling his eyes.

“Awh,” Dream’s caring smile was shining through for a few seconds before a more devious smirk appeared in its place, a menacing giggle spilling out from the younger boy before he continued his teasing. “Is the poor baby too sensitive? Too ticklish? Too small to defend himself?”

George pondered the question before he slowly nodded his head, flinging his free arm back over his face to hide the returning blush. He heard Dream giggle above him, sounding much closer than anticipated. A soft breeze to his ear was enough to make him start giggling again as Dream began to whisper into his ear, giving him goosebumps and making him shudder at the tickly vibrations that came with it. George could hear the teasy-ness dripping from Dream’s words as he continued to mess with him.

“That sounds like a you problem, angel.”

The words sent shivers down George’s spine, feeling how much Dream was loving being able to rip the smaller boy to little ticklish shreds. He knew the exact teases and spots that got to George in the cruelest ways, and Dream was using Every. Single. One. And considering they had only just reached the third finger, George wondered how he’d ever survive this.

“Okay, now that we’ve established you’re too small, sensitive and flustered to do anything, let’s continue.” The blonde had pressed his lips against George’s ear this time, allowing the vibrations from the low tone of his voice to travel from his ear down his spine. Another chill had him shuddering as Dream pulled back, sitting straight up and readjusting his position to make sure George’s arm wouldn’t break free from below his knee.

“D-Do wehehe have to continue? Aren’t you….bored? Isn’t there… something else you’d like to behehe doing?” The smaller boy squeaked out, trying but painfully failing to convince Dream that there were better things to do. George moved his arm slightly to watch as the boy above him quirked an eyebrow up in confusion, a dopey grin spreading across his face at George’s pathetic attempt at stopping him.

Dream let out a low chuckle, the kind that made George want to curl in on himself from how menacing it sounded. He immediately threw his arm back over his face out of embarrassment, but Dream grabbed it with one of his hands and brought it down to join the other hand under one of Dream’s knees. George let out a long whine, shaking his head up with wide eyes. This only made Dream bark out another laugh at the sight.

“Something else I’d be doing? Like what? Laying on the couch? Napping? Editing?” Dream scrunched his nose at the suggestions, shaking his head slightly as he weighed the options. “Absolutely not. I’d rather be right here, tickling you to bits.”

“Nohohoho!” George giggled at that, a loud cackle following as Dream slowly dug his fingertips into the older boy's tummy. He wiggled them slightly with enough pressure to keep George laughing, shaking his head himself as he protested Dream’s actions. He tried to wiggle his hips to move the tickly fingers, but he was stuck between the two thighs keeping his arms pinned. It was then he realized how stuck he actually was. Dream watched as the brunette gulped, staring back up at him with a nervous smile.

“Yehehes!” Dream mocked George, making the smaller boy whine and look to the side, finally breaking eye contact. “What’s wrong Georgie, too ticklish? Can’t handle it?”

Dream still his fingers, only poking into the skin with his middle finger once more. George shook his head a little faster, squeaking as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth while he tried to hold his laughter in. But Dream wasn’t having this. He used his middle finger to wiggle it a little to the side, just barely grazing the start of one of George’s rib bones. He nearly bucked Dream off with how hard he threw his body around.

“Oh, that’s a good spot, huh George?” The brunette heard Dream’s question, but he couldn’t speak even if he had wanted to. “Right here, on your little ribs again? I’d say this is probably your worst spot, wouldn’t you?”

“S-Stohop Dreheheam! P-Plehease!” George pleaded with Dream, again trying his hand at Dream’s famous puppy eyes. However, the younger boy seemed to be immune to this tactic at the current moment, completely focused on pressing his middle finger to the left and right to make sure he was scraping at the tips of his inner ribs.

“Stop? Okay George, I’ll stop.” The blonde smiled down at him, removing both hands and holding them out in front of him. George let out a sigh of relief, finally able to take a full breath. But this relief was short lived as he watched two hands dart back to his ribs, digging in quickly and vibrating against George’s bones. Dream leaned down again, pressing lips to the boy's bright red ear. “I’ll stop tickling when you stop being so ticklish.”

George felt goosebumps rise on his skin, something that only happens when he gets extremely flustered. Dream knew this, and he raised his eyebrows with a huge grin, comparable to a little kid on Christmas morning. He paused his tickling, sitting back slightly so he could look at George fully.

“Oh, that got to you, huh? What was it this time? The way I said I was going to stop and didn’t? The way I mentioned how ticklish you were?” Dream watched the boy squirm beneath him as he tried to hide his face in his shoulder. “Or was it both? Tell me kitten, what one is it?”.

The elder just squirmed more under Dream’s intense stare, waiting for an answer from him. George stuttered through his reply, not able to think clearly due to how flustered he was. It came out quieter than he’d meant it to be, barely above a whisper as he answered Dream’s question.

“Uhm, t-the third option.”

Dream cooed at that, bringing a hand to his cheek to rub one of his thumbs under George’s eye. He felt as the smaller boy relaxed into the touch, essentially pushing into Dream’s hand and nuzzling his cheek against the skin. This made Dream choke out a squeak, holding in a giggle as George’s stubble tickled the palm of his hand. He had hoped that it’d go unseen but George was smirking at him now, clearly amused with the way he had accidentally tickled the younger boy.

“Oh be quiet George. We still have two fingers left!” the blonde practically growled at George, causing him to giggle at how serious he looked. Dream leaned down closer to his face, grinning as he continued. “I’m not done playing with my tickle toy, yet.”

The brunette swore the room was spinning, feeling incredibly lightheaded at the new pet name Dream used. George didn’t think it was possible to be more flustered than he already was, but apparently this was a night of discoveries, and he added it to the secret list of things that make him melt into a puddle.

“Ugh, Dream, you can’t say that.”

“Why? Because it flusters you? Because it embarrasses you? When are you gonna realize I don’t listen to you? I can say whatever I want. I can do whatever I want.” He chuckled, moving his hands off of his ribs and placing his hand back on George’s stomach, his fingers spread out in the same position as before. George watched as Dream flashed him a bright smile, acting as if he wasn’t currently torturing the absolute hell out of him. “Is that fucking clear?”

George felt his eyes growing wider and suddenly he was nodding, unable to break eye contact with Dream, as if in a trance. Dream had never spoken to him like this before, at least not this seriously. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was flustered out of his mind or just because it was Dream, but one thing was for sure - he found himself wanting to listen to him. He wanted to do what Dream asked of him. He wanted to make Dream proud.

“Good boy, Georgie.” Dream knows exactly what that line of praise does to him, and he smirks as he says it. George felt the dizzying feeling once more, knowing that if Dream continues how he is now, he won’t be able to remember his own name. He let out a whine as Dream wiggled his ring finger lightly, squirming slightly to the left to try and relieve the feeling.

“Stay still for me, okay angel? The more you cooperate, the easier it’s going to be for you.”

George could only nod in response with a tiny squeak of acknowledgement before breaking out into giggles as Dream pressed his finger a little harder against the right side of his rib cage, rubbing back and forth slowly. This caused George to squeal, a loud cackle following as he kicked as much as he could. To his surprise, he was doing a pretty good job of keeping his upper body still, his body jerking slightly to the side but nothing more than that.

“See, it’s not so bad, huh?” Dream was speaking softer than before as he watched George’s eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment. He smiled fondly down at him, moving his ring finger between the spaces of the ribs he could reach. Dream let out a small strained whine when he wasn’t able to get to as many of the bones as he’d like.

“Nohoho it ihihis still bahahad!” George continued to try and speak through his laughter, making Dream break out into airy giggles while he continued to wiggle his fingers along the sensitive skin of George’s torso.

“Okay, still bad, but you’re doing so good!” Dream sounded genuinely proud and George thought he might combust into a million tiny pieces if he said anything else even in the realm of kindness. “I know how ticklish your little ribs are, it must be torture to endure this. But you’re doing such a good job, George. Such a good boy.”

George whined again through his laughter, shaking his head as he realized Dream was even using praise against him now. The blonde wasn’t playing fairly - he was using all of George’s weaknesses he’d ever found out and was putting them all into play at the same time; It wasn’t his fault he was so spaced out!

Dream began to drill his finger against the rib bones, kneading as fast as he could along as many ribs as he could reach. He lifted his palm slightly, moving it forward to get at untouched bones to make George jump. The elder could feel the way Dream‘s finger slotted perfectly in the spaces between the bones, making him attempt to buck up in ticklish agony. He was wailing now, his legs no longer kicking and arms no longer pulling every now and then - he was truly putty. He was truly Dream’s tickle toy.

“NAHAHA PLEHEASE!” George thought he might die with how hard he was laughing, feeling his chest burning every time he sharply inhaled between his cackles. Dream heard the strain in his voice and slowed his finger to a gentle tracing, trying to soothe George and let him ride out the leftover giggles that continued on, even after Dream completely removed his hand.

“Hey, it’s alright, George. I’m right here, you did great, okay?” George was breathing heavily, taking in huge gulps of air as his breathing finally began to regulate itself. “We have one more finger, just my pinky, but if you’re too tickled out we don’t have to do it.”

One thing that he always appreciated and admired about Dream was his ability to be completely genuine and only want the best for the people around him. He knew that Dream would stop if George really wanted to, and because of this George decided to let him keep going. He trusted Dream and knew he would stop regardless if he wound up changing his mind.

“N-Nohoho you- you cahahan,” George giggled out, looking up at Dream and giving him a smile to let the younger boy know he was okay. “Just…behehe quick if you cahan, okay?”

Dream could’ve teared up at how nice George was being. He was willingly letting Dream continue, even if he had just tortured the life out of him not even two minutes prior. The fact that George felt safe with Dream was all he had ever wanted, and he had no idea how to handle the feeling. He leaned forward and grabbed George’s cheeks with both hands, lightly squeezing and squishing his face between his fingers.

“Yes I’ll be quick! Oh my God, George, you’re so adorable. I can’t get over it. I just had to squish you.” Dream was giggling at George’s confusion spreading all over his face, his brows furrowing together and a small wobbly grin forming as he felt Dream continue to contort his face in all different ways. After a few more seconds, the blonde finally pulled back, giggling down at George and watching him attempt to hold in giggles.

“None of that, remember?” Dream was quick to put his hand back on George’s stomach, using his pinky to push into the squishy part of George’s right side and causing him to thrash to the left with a squeak. “No holding in giggles! They’re my reward for tickling you!”

“S-Stohohop saying stuff like thahahat!” George cried out as he continued to laugh his little head off, feeling as Dream began rubbing his finger in all different directions in the middle of his side, trying to find the right place to get the biggest reaction.

“Like what? Me saying your giggles are a reward for me tickling you? It’s true! They are my reward, why else would I be doing this?” Dream continued to wiggle his pinky, pausing for a second so George would look up at him. “I mean, besides the fact that you love being tickled.”

George was sure his face was truly on fire with how hot his skin was, not able to control his reactions and stuttering out protests at Dream’s accusations. He was shaking his head frantically, denying and denying and denying, all while Dream sat in silence from his place on George’s hips, smiling down at him and seemingly not listening to a word George was saying.

“Stop trying to deny it, baby. You know you do, I know you do, so let me take care of you, okay?” Dream sounded so sweet it was making George’s head spin. He felt like his head was filled with cement, letting it lay against the soft cushions below him as he stared up at the ceiling. Dream resumed his tickling after another second, startling George and causing his laughter to come out more frantic than it had been.

George was fully dizzy now, his mind floating somewhere in space while his body remained on earth, tickled and tormented in whatever ways Dream liked. He wasn’t sure how this had even started anymore, not able to think of anything else besides how big Dream’s hand was and how badly it tickled him. The thought of Dream’s hand being able to spread over most of his torso was flustering enough, but seeing it for himself in real time was something he never expected to see. He wasn’t sure how to get his thoughts together - he actually wasn’t sure if he had any other thoughts at all, besides how ticklish it felt.

He jolted as Dream’s remaining four fingers began to move, digging into the spots that had been tormented minutes before. George couldn’t do anything but laugh, twisting from side to side every time Dream’s pointer and ring finger scraped between the bones in the middle of his rib cage. He had never had someone’s focus so closely on a spot before, especially not to experiment and prolong the tickling process like this. George shook his head again, trying to shake the flustering thought from his brain before he actually melts into the cushions below him.

Dream added his free hand into the mix, having explored where he could reach with one hand and now using this opportunity to truly dig into George’s ribs. George screamed, making Dream’s eyes quickly flick up to his face to make sure he wasn’t hurt. It sounded so desperate and raw, like it tore through George’s throat to escape. When he was sure George wasn’t actually in pain he continued on, squeezing and kneading and knuckling at the sensitive little ribs under his fingers. The boy below him could almost be compared to a rag doll - George was completely limp, his head thrown back with his eyes tightly shut, laughing and laughing and not putting up an ounce of a fight.

“Look at you, George. You’re all tickled out, huh? I bet everything feels so much more ticklish now that I’ve flustered you a ton.” Dream teased him, trying to keep his voice in a light tone as he spoke over George’s laughter. The older boy nodded, unable to answer with words because of how hard he was laughing. His face was a deep red, flushed beyond repair as his hair stuck to his forehead and the sides of his face. He was sweating and tears were falling and George couldn’t tell which was which. It didn’t really matter, it was all part of the overwhelming feeling of bliss George had.

“P-PLEHE- DREHE-” He was pleading through his screams, bucking up off the couch even with Dream sitting on his waist as Dream’s pointer fingers found his sensitive back ribs, kneading circles deep into the bones there. No matter how hard he tried, George couldn’t get a full word out. This signaled to Dream that George was indeed tickled out, and he really was at his limit.

The hands on George’s ribs slowly came to a stop, Dream using his palms to try and soothe him once more of the lingering ghost tickles that were no doubt still doing their job. George couldn’t stop laughing. He didn’t remember the last time he was tickled like this, if ever. His chest was on fire and his throat was raw, coughing slightly when he took in a particularly deeper breath.

“Wait one second okay? I’ll be right back.” The younger boy moved off of him and stood up from the couch, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge. Dream grabbed out two water bottles, bringing one over to George and twisting the cap before holding it out to him.

“Thanks.” George strained out as he sat up slowly, wincing at his sore wrists from being kneeled on for so long. Dream noticed and his gentle smile turned into a concerned frown, sitting down on the couch next to George and taking the wrist that was not occupied into his own hands to begin rubbing lightly.

“Sorry about that,” Dream apologized sheepishly, setting George’s water bottle on the side table when he was finished drinking to scoop his other wrist up, now gently massaging both and smiling when George let out a little contented sigh and closed his eyes again. “I didn’t mean to lean on them so hard. I got a little carried away.”

“You think?” Dream giggled bashfully as he felt his cheeks grow warmer, looking back down at George’s hands as he continued to rub along the skin of the small wrists. The blonde lifted them up, leaning his head down and meeting them halfway to give each wrist a small kiss. He pulled back, seeing George crack an eye open as he waited for Dream’s response.

“I couldn’t help it! Your laugh, like, activated something in me. I just needed to hear it more! It was like I became a tickle monster or something.” It was George’s turn to be bashful, knowing damn well that Dream knew the tickle monster bit always got to him a little more. He groaned, pulling his hands out of Dream’s to cover his own face, knowing he was blushing and wouldn’t be able to control it.

“Okahay, I promise I’m done! I’ve tortured you enough,” Dream giggled at how on edge the elder was, standing up from the couch and scooping the smaller boy up in his arms and making him shriek before he could even uncover his eyes. “At least for today.”

“DREAM! What- whahat are you dohoing?!” George kicked his legs a few times as Dream carried him bridal style towards the kitchen. All hopes of containing his blush were gone as George thought about how effortlessly Dream could lift him, carrying him like he weighed nothing. He was still giggling as Dream set him down to sit on the counter a few seconds later, squirming to the side slightly when the blonde briefly wiggled his pointer finger into his side.

“Grabbing snacks! I’ve decided we’re gonna watch a movie now.” Dream explained, turning his back to George as he began to rummage through the cabinets for anything he thought looked good.

“Oh yeah?” George couldn’t help the softness showing through his sarcasm, watching as the younger boy turned around with an arm full of popcorn and candy.

“Yes,” He replied, handing George the snacks and picking up again, heading towards the theater room. “And since I almost killed you, I guess you can pick what movie we watch.”

The elder let out an over exaggerated shriek of excitement, making Dream jerk his head to the side to protect his ear from the volume of George’s voice. He once again couldn’t stop thinking about how easily Dream was holding him. Without permission, he let out a small squeak, eyes growing wide as they met Dream’s in embarrassment.

The two broke out into giggles as Dream sat him down on one of the cushioned theater chairs, dropping the snacks on his own chair while George situated himself. Dream went and retrieved a huge blanket from the basket in the corner of the room, draping it over the two as he settled in next to George. Dream ripped open a pack of M&M’s, giggling through an eye roll as George leaned over into the younger boy’s space with his mouth wide open.

“You’re such an idiot.” He shook his head fondly as he dropped two into George’s mouth anyway. The brunette giggled as he closed his mouth with a ‘smack’, sliding down in his chair to rest his back against the cushions as he pressed the button to recline it. Dream did the same, snuggling in closer to George and moving the snacks onto the blankets on top of them.

“Watch it, or I’ll make you watch Harry Potter for the twentieth time.”

“Oh God, I’ll never speak again, don’t worry.”

“Dreheam!” The blonde was met with a soft smack on his bicep from a very giggly George, and he couldn’t help but laugh at his snarky comment himself.

Dream watched as he grabbed the remote from the arm of the chair, opening the streaming app and flicking through the movie options. He let out a contented sigh, allowing himself to relax into the chair and closer to George. It was only when George picked a movie that he finally settled down, cuddling in closer to Dream and resting his head against the younger boy’s shoulder.

Yes, George may have been tickled to the brink of death by his menace of a best friend, but if it meant ending in night like this, he would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

(you can find this fic on ao3 here!)

#lee!george #ler!dream #i.........have nothing to say #i do not apologize #and if this flusters u #u HAVE to tell me #thats the RULE 😤#but seriously though this is like...my favorite thing i've ever written #i feel like this is my child #and cal also gave me so much help and support through the whole thing everyone say thank u caaaaaaaaal #anyway #i hope u enjoy!#also theres.....over 7k words im sure theres some typos somewhere #mushie fics #mcyt tickle #my stuff

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