The Series: myct one-shot [COMPLETED]

Yellow Sweater [SMUT]

𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐦. -𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐯 𝐩𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐠, 𝐦𝐦𝐱𝐢𝐱.

Loud thuds followed by Wilbur pushing Dream up against the bedroom door made its way around the house, desperate hands snaking up against cold skin underneath each other's sweaters, rubbing intensely for even the slightest bit of warmth.

"Wilbur..." Dream mumbled, inhaling in the spiteful cold smell that their coats recked of. The brit dragged his hands up the other's sides, scrunching the fabric of his yellow sweater, "cold..."

"I'm sorry, buttercup..." The two boys smiled at the nickname, pulling each other in for short kisses, noses pushed into the others as they reconnected and disconnected their lips repeatedly. Dream raised his numb fingers to slide across Wilbur's face as they pull apart and make eye contact, his heart thriving bouquets of lust and love all at once, tying the soft ribbon awfully tightly around his heart.

The younger gasps as he got picked up and pulled away from the support of the door, feeling horrified before his heart dropped and he got thrown onto the bed, screaming lightly before laughing it off. Wilbur climbed on to him, laughing as well, clasping his chin and pulling him into a longer kiss, tilting his head to the side as their mouths moved in sync, tounges meeting in the middle every chance they got.

Hearts race against ribcages while fingers peel at clothes, desperation set in as Dream got successful in getting the other shirtless, running his palms from his waist to his chest and finally to his shoulders; smiling as the other pushed into the touches.

Wilbur definitely had a minor kink for praise, even if he denied it the second his boyfriend brought it up. Maybe it wasn't the verbal praise, maybe it was how he would lean into every appreciation filled touch with such excitement that led Dream to the conclusion.

"Pretty." The blond whispered, earning a small smirk from the older, feeling the other grind against him. Dream hummed, closing his eyes and letting his hips be rolled up onto.

"Yeah?" Wilbur kneeled onto the bed, tugging Dream's trousers to the uncomfortable-above-knee height, massaging his inner thighs.

"Yeah." He whispered, a smile creeping onto his face, enjoying the attention below and the view of his Wilbur looking downwards, concreting, "beautiful for me."

He glances up, he blushed and a happy smile present on his face, pulling off the rest of Dream's trousers and sliding closer, completely pushed up against the boy. Wilbur bends down, gliding his hands up his yellow sweater, reaching for the American's hands, grabbing his wrists instead and pulling them to his chest.

"I want tonight to be different," Wilbur whispered, pulling his belt off and holding it to Dream's wrists.

"It can be if you fetch my phone." Dream held his wrists together, waiting for wrists to be tied together.

Wilbur stretched backwards, pulling out the phone with his index and middle finger, passing it to the blond.

He sat on his knees watching confused before he heard low music play from the phone. "The weeknds..?" He questioned, slipping the phone to a desolate corner of the bed.

"Call out my name." Dream smirked before scream-laughing at the Brit attacking his neck, playful protesting as the other bit and kissed, the adrenaline leaving as quickly as it came.