summary: he’s best friends with your brother. need i say more?
general warnings: nsfw content– graphic descriptions of sex, mentions of alcohol/intoxication, use of dream’s real name
pairing: dream (clay) x f!reader
a/n: this fic was posted on ao3 but i decided to put it here too! it’s an au where dream is not a youtuber, he’s a college student because he said in a stream a while ago that he would have been an english major had he gone to college and i just couldn’t resist. it’s smutty, angsty, and has a bunch of cheesy tropes, enjoy <3
You've been behaving all night long as you watched your boyfriend be one of the most relevant presences on the award show, pride and desire for him only getting stronger with every acceptance speech. Once you both were alone in his car, you couldn't help but act on it.
Dream, female reader.
WARNINGS: smut, dom!Dream, fingering (female receiving), a lot of spanking, slight bondage, daddy kink, unprotected sex. MDNI.
Author's note: this was requested, hopefully anon and everyone else can enjoy it! thank you for reading :)
Tonight was doing wonders for Dream's ego, and you couldn't help yourself when you felt your attraction to him grow by the second. It was the first time both you and Dream attended an award show, and needless to say all attention was focused on your boyfriend. Not only because this was his first public appearance after a face reveal, but it was also the first public appearance of you both as a couple – and, of course, Dream being one of the most influential and relevant presences on the award show had some influence in the hype. Everyone was eager to take pictures of and with him, the man's broad shoulders dressed with expensive apparel towered above most people as you followed close behind him like a puppy, hand desperately gripping his own.
Dream didn't even know which he loved to show off the most – you or his awards. Hearing his name called on the stage nomination after nomination never got tiring, getting up and giving you a quick peck on the lips as the camera broadcasted his pretty girlfriend to thousands of people was the cherry on top.
You knew your boyfriend, and you knew that smirk plastered over his face all night all too well – he carried himself with unbelievable confidence, hand constantly around your waist as people walked up to greet and congratulate him. The night passed by in flashing lights and echoes, everything blurred out except for him.
You stumble on cobblestones as you laugh your way down the street to your boyfriend's parked car, the early hours of the morning affecting your otherwise sober thoughts. He places his awards on the backseat and opens the passenger door for you, sliding on his own seat a few moments after.
You knew the ride back home would take a while when you finally reach a point where you see no cars around – road ahead lit by nothing but the car's headlights. You unfasten your seatbelt and recline your seat the lowest you can, almost laying as you roll the window beside you down, fast wind messing up your hair.
Dream's focus was fixated on the road until he saw you from the corner of his eyes – body splayed out across his passenger seat, short dress rising up your thighs ever so slightly, moonlight making your skin glow.
And just like that, the man's eyes were magnetically attracted to your relaxed figure and keeping his eyes on the road became a struggle. Your eyes shift from the night sky to the huge hand now around thigh, squeezing lightly.
“You look so pretty tonight.” Dream's voice sounds like a mutter with his smile muffled by the wind, passing harshly through the car's open windows.
A soft smile adorns your lips and melts his heart. “Everyone was looking at you, though.” You sit up and lean towards your boyfriend – both hands resting on his shoulders and chin propped up on them. “Mister Content Creator Of The Year.”
You giggle, watching him laugh up close. “Doesn't that make you Miss Content Creator of The Year?” He replies, making you laugh.
You slowly slide back to your original position, laying on his reclined passenger's seat. “I don't know if that's how that works. I'm not famous like you are.”
He smirks. “You sure look like the celebrity of the relationship.”
You shake your head, dismissive, with a huge smile. Your boyfriend's hand starts running smoothly up and down your thigh as he continues. “Seriously, I could tell everyone was looking at you. So many heads turned when you passed by.”
You take a deep breath when his hand grips your inner thigh, inches away from your core. Dream's eyes are mostly on the road, but he keeps trying to take peaks at you whenever he can. You sit up again, laying your head on his shoulder and parting your legs slightly.
Every single one of your small movements made it harder to focus on the empty road ahead, desperately fighting his urge to focus completely on you. The feeling of your soft skin on his fingertips were an encouragement – just take her home. Half an hour is not that long, you can take it. She deserves to be laid down, touched properly. You'll be home soon.
“I didn't even notice, I was too busy looking at you.” He scoffs, smile lingering on his face as you continue “What?! I'm serious!”. You watch the man by your side – the smile showing off his canines, expensive jewelry adorning the hand with which he turned the steering wheel, eyes caught up on his long fingers as they tapped said surface. You missed how they felt on you. “I only have eyes for you, daddy.”
Dream's gaze shoots you from the rear view, his green eyes suddenly turning mean. You can't help but giggle at his reaction, his tone taken by a seriousness that wasn't there before. “I'm driving.” He says, resolute.
“I'm not doing anything…” You drift off, holding back your smile as you try to put up a façade.
“Yeah, I'm telling you to stop before you start." Completely contradictory to his words, his hand squeezed you harshly. You rub your thighs together, soothing his hand in the process, hoping to gain a bit of sympathy.
“I was just telling the truth. I didn't notice anybody looking at me ‘cause I was only looking at you.” His severe expression doesn't falter, neither does his grip on your thigh. You lean on his arm once again, doe eyes looking up at him. “Were you jealous?”
“Of what? People staring?” You nod and he continues, “Not at all, I was proud. You know I love to show you off.”
Even though you're the one making the moves on him, that still flusters you. Dream chuckles as you duck your head, nuzzling on his bicep as both your hands wrap around his forearm gripping your thigh. “I love to see people drooling over my baby, I love that they know who you'll come home with. All dolled up just for me.” He hums, watching you from the rear view's mirror.
You nod, cheek rubbing on the material of his suit. “I only dress up for you, daddy.”
His huge hand suddenly cups your core, rubbing circles over your panties. He looks bored as you gasp and clasp his arm, but there's a deep blush to his soft cheeks as his eyes focus on the road ahead. His freckles always look so pretty when he's blushing. You circle your hips in sync with his movements until his hand slides to your thigh, pulling it towards him, forcing your legs open. You yelp when he slaps your inner thigh, pussy instantly fluttering around nothing.
“Stop moving. You're so fucking greedy.” His hand resumes the teasing over your underwear as yours clutches the sides of your seat, nails digging into the leather, desperately trying to keep your hips still.
As if on cue, he feels your wetness leaking through the material of your underwear. His low chuckle makes you shiver, another hash slap coming down the same spot on your thigh. This time, a moan leaves your lips. “You love getting hit like that. Fucking whore.” His palm soothes your burning skin, fixated gaze on the road seemingly puzzled. Soon enough, Dream comes to his resolve. “Take your panties off.”
Hooking your thumbs to your underwear, you wiggle your hips, sliding them down your legs as Dream separates from you just as the material passes your thigh – his touch is back on you as soon as possible, spreading your legs open by pulling one towards him again, fingers now tracing your folds. Dream feels your needy gaze burning on his profile patiently waiting as he leisurely plays with your pussy, coating his fingers in your growing arousal. He chuckles.
“You're so easy.” Your reply dies in your throat as a loud gasp rips through your lungs when your boyfriend slaps your cunt – his hand moving to your thigh and leaving you to deal with the sting of his harshness on your own accord, hips bucking up from your seat.
Within whines, “daddy...” leaves your lips repeatedly, pleading eyes looking up at the man. You notice how his hand squeezes the steering wheel even tighter every time he hears it. “Hold on for me, baby.”
“But I need you.” You half-whisper, thighs still spread apart.
“We'll get home soon.”
Tears threaten to leave your eyes. “Fuck, please. I need you to fuck me.”
Dream looks agitated and you know you don't need much to trip him over the edge. Leaning towards him, you place both hands on his thigh, teary eyes looking up at him.
“Why don't you want me, daddy?”
His serious eyes lock in yours for half a second, cocking his head to the side before pulling over a field. Within the car's headlights reach you could only see grass – outside of that it was eerie, plain darkness. Just as menacing as the pit black around you, your boyfriend unbuckles his seatbelt.
“Put your hands on the backseat. All fours.” He instructs, cold, and you follow suit.
You kneel on the backrest of your seat, that is fully reclined, with your hands on the backseat as he instructed. With that, Dream has plenty of room to move, kneeling behind you.
He kneads your ass for a few seconds before his hand moves to your pussy, already shoving two fingers in. His hand moves fast inside you, harsh, his palm facing down. Your mouth hangs open and you can't force yourself to close it as you spew out moans. Overwhelmed, your hands moved everywhere – from gripping the backseat, to the sides of your head, to reaching back trying to hold him – only to be completely ignored.
A harsh spank comes to your left cheek, his rings intensifying the hit as his hand was still brutal in your cunt. You flinch, moving away from Dream slightly before he grips your hips, slamming you against his long fingers.
“Stop fucking moving.”
You're barely able to whimper a “Sorry, daddy.” – you could feel your slick dripping from his fingers to the seat, streaks running down your thighs as your boyfriend was knuckle-deep inside you, pussy desperately clenching around his digits.
You hear him chuckling behind you and another spank comes, stinging the same spot as before. “Look at the mess you're making. Gonna have to get my car cleaned up- all ‘cause you couldn't wait for daddy to fuck you.”
“Fuck, oh God-” You grip the backseat with all you've got, face down on the cushion before your body starts spasming out of your control.
Your vision is blurry with tears, eyes fluttering as the only thoughts you can process are how your body feels both light and heavy at the same time, and your boyfriend. All of him, but specially how he finally moved his hand away from you and was probably leaned back, watching you fight your own self to stay still. Your pussy flutters for what feels like too long, still dripping when he delivers another harsh slap to your ass – followed by a second one. He finally soothes your skin for a few seconds, your heavy breathing interrupted by a yelp when he spanks you again. Instinctively, your hand reaches back, trying to stop his. You freeze when you hear him scoff, realizing the mistake you've made.
“I told you to keep your hands on the fucking backseat.” You hear your boyfriend unbuckling his belt behind you. “Give me your hands.”
“But-”
Another spank. “I said give me your hands.”
Supporting all your weight on your knees, you lean your cheek on the harsh leather of his seat. Dream crosses your wrists behind your back, tying them together tightly with his belt. Even though you came just a few moments ago, your heartbeat increases when you hear your boyfriend undoing his pants. He chuckles lightly when you wiggle your hips, craving him inside of you. His laugh makes you think he'll soften up a little bit, but lord, you couldn't be more wrong. Suddenly, you feel his hand on your neck, pressing you hard against the leather.
“When will you learn- to be- fucking- patient?” You scream out moans with each slap to your ass, accentuated by his quick pauses, your cunt begging for him as you fluttered around nothing.
“I’m sorry-” You're interrupted by another hit.
“Are you? ‘Cause we're only here- ‘cause you couldn't fucking wait. Now I already made you cum-” this one was specially harsh, he grabbed the skin as his hand landed on you. “And you don't wanna wait to get fucked?”
You feel Dream's clothed crotch coming directly in contact with your cunt and you can't hold back your sob, a stream of pleas desperately leaving your lips.
“I'm sorry that I need you this bad, just, please. I've been waiting for you all night long, daddy- I promise I've been patient. I wanted you inside me all night long and I still behaved- fuck!” You feel the harsh sting to your ass again, the tears streaming down your face were starting to pool on the leather.
“Mouthy.” You hear him unzipping his pants. “I'm only fucking you to shut you up.”
Your body immediately reacts to his cock slamming inside of you by shuddering, but Dream's hold on your hips were more than enough to keep you still – enough to bruise. You feel every inch of him hitting the deepest parts of your cunt, his prominent veins engulfed by your squelching walls as you endured another one of his slaps, now combined to his punishing pace. The skin of your ass hurt with his every thrust – his hips hitting the bruises – but you could only focus on Dream's heavenly moans.
Everything Dream did in bed was loud – his moans, his spanks, his thrusts – always punishing with almost unbearable pleasure. He'd make you cum multiple times and still, you could never get enough of him. His pretty moans drew you closer to yet another orgasm, and a spank to your ass brought you over the edge a second time.
Dream grunted as you squeezed impossibly tight around him – his cock dripping wet with your arousal mixed with his precum. His dirty-blonde hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead, first few buttons of his shirt undone somewhere along the way as he fucked into you, veins on his hands popping up from how long he's been tightly holding your hips.
His dark green eyes focused on your wet cunt and his ears on your desperate moans. He could slightly tell you were trying to shake him off of you through his very hazy mind, but your safeword never came – just a babbled mess of “please” and “daddy”.
Your arousal formed a ring around the base of his cock and Dream wanted it to get thicker. He rolled his hips with intent, fucking you out of hypersensitivity and into pleasure all over again, your shoulders and wrists hurting from being tied for so long.
Dream's breath hitched on his throat when you arched your back for him, giving him access to even deeper inside you. His eyes followed from your pussy, to your small hands tied together with his belt, to your pretty waist and hair all splayed over his backseat, your moans demanding his attention.
“You're such a pretty whore. Your cunt feels so good.” Your body shudders when he spanks you again. “So pretty when you shut the fuck up.” He places a hand flat on your back, and you help, slamming yourself on his cock.
“Need you to cum with me, come on. Make daddy proud.”
The adrenaline doesn't let your knees falter, hips bouncing on Dream with his help – his moans getting shorter and higher telling you you needed to hold on just a little more. You want to make him proud.
The last spank to your ass makes you shudder, coming undone under Dream, and he soon follows. He buries himself as deep as possible inside of you, thighs shaking along with yours as he releases and leans forward, forehead pressed against your back, breathing heavily as your third orgasm is still hitting you strong.
You feel his big hands fumbling the belt, releasing your wrists. Dream quickly buttons his pants back on and manhandles you until you're sat on his lap – his back to the passenger's window. He hugs your waist, keeping you close as he messages your wrists.
“You alright, baby?”
You hum, pressing your back to his chest. “Perfect.”
“Just like you.” He chuckles when you make a noise, mocking him.
“Corny.”
“You know you love it.”
After a couple seconds, your whole body starts to ache – ass, neck, shoulders, wrists, hips, knees… Dream really put you to work. You shift on his lap, uncomfortable.
“Sorry if I was too rough.”
“Don't worry, love. It was wonderful, everything's worth it.”
Dream nods, his eyes look ahead, distant. “Damn…” He says, thought. “What a whore.”
Your laugh brings a smirk out of him, gaze now following you move on his lap. “Shut up!”
this is heavily inspired by one of the asks you got, but maybe roommate!dream accidentally walking in on reader touching herself but being very unimpressed by her technique of choking herself, so he offers to do it for her and teach her while she pleases herself, but things obviously get out of control
i decided to make this a quick blurb, hope this is okay :) i had a lot of fun while writing this
what you like | dreamwastaken.
roommate!Dream, female reader.
WARNINGS: smut, use of Dream's real name, choking, masturbation. MDNI.
His strawberry blond hair looked brown when wet, towel hanging low on his hips and shirt, for some reason, hanging around his neck instead of being on his torso.
You cursed him out before quickly leaving the living room, his loud laughter ringing through the hallway of your shared apartment like waves, reaching your room.
Tired, annoyed, and flustered. Oh my God, so fucking flustered. You throw yourself onto your bed and press both sides of your pillow against your ears, hoping to quiet down the very loud thoughts flashing through your head. Your roommate's wet hair, toned torso, low voice. The way he loves to embarrass you, and the contagious laughter he lets out afterwards – so fucking annoying. It's even more annoying because you can't help but laugh along with him. You always notice how his fingers run through his hair, how any bottle looks tiny when he holds it because his hands are that fucking big, how it's veins pop when he's working out in his room.
You toss and turn in your bed, restless, simply unable to pull him out of your brain. There might be a way to finally get this frustration over with, but you're afraid it might be a little too humiliating. After fifteen minutes of inner discussions, you realize that if you've done it already it probably would have been over with and you would've moved on with your day. With that, you hide your lower half under the covers.
Letting out a deep sigh, you debate with your ceiling the same thing you both have discussed a thousand times before you masturbate – what do I even think about? Memories of all the times you've felt attracted to your roommate flashed through your mind: what do you even like about him? Physically, that is. There isn't much to like personalitywise. His torso when he leaves the shower, obviously. His cocky smirk, his confidence. His height, how he towers above you and almost everybody else. You constantly catch yourself watching when he cooks, even while his playing his stupid nerdy games. His movements are so quick and precise, you really couldn't help but wonder...
You only realize that your hand has slid down your shorts when you let out a sigh, your delicate middle finger gently tracing all the right spots. Clay has the habit of scratching the back of his neck, you remember. His neck looks so tiny beside his hand, you can only think about how big it would look around yours. A moan escapes your lips when the thoughts crosses your mind, but you're quick to cut it short, swallowing.
You've never been chocked before – you never asked to be, really. But his veins, his slim fingers... It's like they were begging to be around your throat – you had to feel, or think of, his palm around you at least once – just to get it out of your system, of course.
Carefully, you bring your free hand to your throat. The unfamiliarity of the situation almost throwing off the rhythm of your hips and your fingers, but as you close your eyes, you're able to focus on the feeling of your pussy getting wetter, more sensitive, as you think of him. Clay and his dumb smile, his dumb jokes, his dumb biceps and oh so irritating hands. You think about his lips touching your neck, sucking slightly, before your hand naturally wraps around your throat – it was too small to pretend it was his, but you still tried.
Awkwardly, you squeeze your palm around your throat tightly, making you cough loudly right away.
"Jesus, how do people do this?" You whispered to yourself.
Settling further onto the bed, hand still feeling nice under your underwear, you try again. This time, squeezing slowly. You really weren't feeling pleasure at all, but you kept slowly tightening your palm around your throat – this had to be it, right? I mean, how else could you choke somebody? You push further and further, until you give yourself another coughing fit.
Deciding to slow down a little bit, you remove your hand from your underwear and palm yourself through the thin fabric, back and forth motions tracing your slit, pressing lightly to your clit. You took a deep breath, small hand closing around your throat once again, until a tall figure bursts through the door.
"I heard you coughing like crazy, is everything all... right?"
It was funny watching how differently you both reacted from a third person's perspective: Clay was completely still in your doorway, staring at your restless figure who just practically jumped up, covering yourself up to your head.
"Clay, what the hell?! Don't you know how to knock?" You half yell, only to be met with silence. After a couple seconds, you peek to check if he's still there.
Clay's eyes were focused on where your lower half once was – your hand forming a bump in the covers, showing exactly what you were doing under it. But his eyes snapped to yours as soon as he saw them peeking out of the duvet.
The boy scoffs, entering your room slowly, step by step, as if trying to hide the fact that he was getting closer to your bed. "What the hell were you doing?"
"What do you mean 'what the hell am I doing'? Isn't it obvious? Get out of my room!" You say, throwing a stuffed animal at him as you asked your last question.
"No, I know, but- your fucking hand, dude. Were you trying to choke yourself?"
He laughs and you let out a scream out of embarrassment, harshly hiding yourself under the covers again, "Oh my God! What did I do to deserve this!?"
His laughter ceases and you hear his voice getting closer to you, "Aw, come on now. It's not that bad, you just were doing it wrong." You feel him sitting on the bed, facing you.
Clay can't help but laugh when your eyes quietly peek from under the covers – both your eyes furrowed in confusion as you glared at him with hooded eyes.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean you're doing it wrong, dumbass. You can't just squeeze your neck like that- you're gonna like, die or something."
"Well- what am I supposed to do, then?"
Your eyes follow his movements closely. Clay throws his head back a little, giving himself a bit more space: The boy wraps his hand around his own neck, explaining. "You're supposed to apply a little pressure here." His thumb presses on the side of his neck, right against his pipeline. His palm lays flat on the front of his throat, applying no pressure at all. "You don't restrict your airways completely- it's supposed to make you lightheaded."
Clay presses his hand tighter, applying the smallest bit of pressure with his palm. You have to stop yourself from sighing at the sight before you – his dark blond hair adorning his rose-tinted face, lips slightly parted and his hand, getting tighter around his own neck.
He smirks when he sighs, letting go of himself, head still thrown back in relaxation. "Feels pretty good."
Clay's eyes open slightly and he can't help but scoff at how hard you're staring at him. "Take a picture."
You can't bring yourself to reply, gaze avoiding his as you swallowed the lump in your throat. "I can help you out if you want it so bad."
"What?" You blurt our before your brain can even process.
"You suck at multitasking." Clay says, eyes focused on you, waiting for you to catch onto his intentions. A sigh leaves his lips when the look of confusion on your face doesn't falter. "Let me choke you. I know how to do it properly, anyway. Then you'll just have to focus on whatever you got going on under the covers."
Your mind was running a mile an hour, completely flabbergasted by how offhandedly he made the offer. Clay's eyes didn't loose you for a moment – his confidence overwhelmingly intimidating. After a couple of seconds of barely understanding the situation you were in, you nod, body relaxing onto your bed.
You don't miss the way your roommate smirks when you nod, hand already on it's way to your neck.
The mere movement of your shy hand dipping under the covers makes your body shiver, the tension hanging heavy on your shoulders. Clay's palm felt huge on your neck, his thumb starting to press slightly, your middle finger ghosting over your folds.
A shaky breath escapes your lips, eyes closing as you allowed yourself to relax under your ministrations and his heavy hand, slowly getting tighter around your neck.
"There you go." He breathes out, voice so sweet it made you shiver. He slowly inhales before continuing. "Relax, I got you."
Skilled fingers make your hips squirm slightly, head already getting cloudy with desire. You don't even realize you're looking directly into Clay's eyes until he smirks – that's when your focus shifts to his mouth. The boy was as red as a tomato, chest heaving with his long inhales as he looked at you – messy hair and furrowed eyebrows. The fact that he could see your hand moving under the covers was absolutely crushing him.
"You have to stop looking at me like that." He says, emphasizing his point by tightening his grip in your throat. You were completely lightheaded – that's the only way of explaining why you replied the way you did.
"Why? You lack self control?" You reply, not even registering the smirk on your lips as you watch his eyebrows raise, pink lips parting slightly. He pressed his thumb harshly to the side of your neck for a few seconds – just until your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you threw it back, hand relaxing on your throat soon after.
"If I lacked self control you would be done with that by now." He says, eyes shifting from your face to your restless hand under the covers. Clay really wanted to bring his eyes back to yours, watch your pretty face twisting in pleasure as you touched yourself as he intensified the feeling of every brush of your fingers simply by keeping his hand on your throat, but he was hypnotized by the sight of you all covered up – so close, touching yourself while you looked at him, small gasps and shy moans leaving your parted lips as you murmured "harder". Clay squeezed his hand around your throat a millisecond later, noticing just how fast you wrist was moving.
"So bossy, asking me to choke you harder." He chuckled, not even realizing he was thinking out loud. "If I could get my hands on you properly, you wouldn't be able to even think about demanding anything."
"Clay, fuck- keep talking." Your skin was covered in goosebumps, surprised and intimidated by how much the boy's presence alone can turn you on. You've masturbated multiple times before, but you never got yourself squealing in your bed, gasping for air, eyes squeezing shut as your fingers assaulted your clit restlessly, your owl slick dripping down your ass as your roommate's hand had a firm grip on your throat – his hazy eyes shifting from your hand to your face.
The boy chuckles at your second demand of the night, but he gives in. "I can hear how wet you are, fuck, it's driving me crazy. Don't you think you're being a little selfish, huh? Laying here all wet and needy and all I can touch is your neck? You're so mean to me sometimes."
Your hips buckle against your own hand, body shifting up the bed, but his hold on you doesn't falter. "We've been here so long... You can't even touch yourself right. You know you would've come so much faster if it was my tongue instead of your hand."
Your legs spasm for a few seconds before your whole body follows – the image of his head between your thighs along with your fingers and his chokehold on you was more than enough to trip you over the edge – you gasped for air when his hand moved from your throat to your cheek, thumb caressing your skin gently as you shivered from the aftershock. It takes you a few seconds to come down from your high, voice still shaky when you meet his eyes again.
"I love that you're into dirty talk, but I can't help but wonder how is it like when your mouth's busy."
idk if anyone else feels this way but i’m always really reluctant to say i have an ed/ that i restrict or whatever because to me this is just? normal?? and im always scared that by admitting even to myself that this is an illness someone will try and “help” me and the last thing i want is to be a “normal” weight. like yeah i browse/ post these tags and i absolutely idolise being underweight and i refuse to eat certain foods and i refuse to eat above 500 calories a day and will go into what can only be described as a depressive episode if i see ive gone even a bit up on the scale , but as far as im aware and as far as my head is aware im ... fine? ..
