Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

George Davidson, known as GeorgeHD in most online communities, was twenty-three, and had a bachelor's degree in computer science. He was currently working as a developer for an online communication system that integrated the style and familiarity of one software program into a multi-server platform, which connected thousands of individuals from across the globe in real time to collaborate on an array of challenges only the most cunning minds could overcome.

In layman's terms, George was a moderator for a public Minecraft server called MunchyMC.

Sure, it wasn't as glamorous as George exaggerated it to be when nosy relatives asked, or when he needed to buff-up his resume, but George enjoyed the work. Okay, maybe not the work itself, but the people he got to work with.

Dream and Pandas were George's two best friends. Both were a little younger, both lived in the United States, and both had their heads so far up in the clouds that George couldn't even keep up with what they were talking about most of the time.

"I swear on my grandma's grave- I found it!"

"You can't swear on her grave when your grandma isn't even dead, like, what?" Pandas- his name was actually Nick, but George was introduced to him as Pandas and would call him such- laughed back at Dream's claims.

The current hyperfixation between the younger two was 'blowing up on YouTube- just like Pewdiepie'. George had to give credit where credit was due; this was the longest they'd ever stayed in a hyperfixation together.

Granted, that meant it had been just shy of a month.

Meanwhile, George had hyperfixations of his own, like how the hell was he going to scrounge up enough money to pay for his student loan payment this month, buy groceries, and somehow afford his rent. As much as George loved having a job that was both with his friends and doing something he enjoyed, there was a reason George was constantly looking at new ways to improve his resume.

Being a Minecraft server moderator didn't exactly pay the bills.

This gig was supposed to be temporary, just something to help out an old friend, BadBoyHalo, who owned the server. Dream had convinced him to join in pretty easily, seeing that no tech companies were biting at his fresh out of uni resume. Moderating the server was just supposed to be a way to get some practical experience coding and fixing bugs on the fly, while Dream set up something behind the scenes.

The temporary position was meant to last a month or two… it was now seven months later and George was stuck in the same place with his two idiot best friends, realizing he really shouldn't have trusted a twenty year old who claimed to have 'cracked the code for crypto', promising he'd get George and Pandas all the insider trading information. The goal was to buy and sell cryptocurrency, which George already knew was a horrendous idea, but Dream convinced him to give it a shot.

"It's basically free money, Georgie! I mean, the shares cost pennies, and I'm telling you my friend knows a huge investor that's about to throw a bunch of money into their stock. Trust me!"

As much as George liked to believe he was the oldest and wisest of the group, how accurate could that be when he managed to get swindled into something as stupid as Dogecoin? Which, for the record, he somehow lost money investing in.

Dream and Pandas moved on, finding new 'get rich quick' schemes to give them hope that life was more than the dreaded nine to five. Dream had no intention of going to college and Pandas was just starting out. George, on the other hand, was already in the 'living in a shitty one bedroom flat and surviving off instant noodles every night' part of his life.

George was getting desperate, damn near ready to start delivering DoorDash via his scooter for some extra money. But then came Dream with all his grandiose plans, promising George his days of Cup Noodles and wondering if they were going to shut off his power because he couldn't remember the last time he paid the bill, were over.

Again.

"Dream, I told you I'm not joining your stupid pyramid scheme," George groaned, retyping his same line of code for the third time.

"It's not a pyramid- George, have you listened to anything we've been saying for the last month?" Dream asked with heavy offense. George rolled his eyes, too tired, hungry, and frustrated at this goddamn code to coddle Dream's feelings.

"Honestly? No." George slumped his shoulders in relief when his code finally went through.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm a patient man-"

"Man? Your voice just cracked." George pointed out, a smug smile resting on his lips.

"Do you want to be a millionaire or not, George?" Pandas jumped in, both into the conversation and the server, punching George's character repeatedly.

"Forget being a millionaire- I just want to eat a hot meal that's not from the microwave," George laughed sadly under his breath. He felt a little guilty whenever he'd dump his financial struggles onto his friends.

He wouldn't necessarily say Pandas was a trust fund baby, but he did know his family was pretty well off- nothing like his own. Dream, well, he would never say he grew up rich- he'd say his family was 'comfortable'.

Clearly their definitions of 'comfortable' were vastly different.

"This is real money, George- money that people are making on YouTube. Pewdiepie, Markiplier, DanTDM, Mr. Beast- George, these people are making millions a month. We can do that too!" Dream sounded so excited, like not even George could rain on his parade.

"Yeah, yeah. Figuring out the algorithm, finding your target audience, having consistent content at the ready- blah, blah, blah." George leaned back in his chair, flinching at the loud squeak it let out any time he moved.

"See, you have been listening!" Pandas punched his character again before running off on the map.

"I found Pewdiepie's seed, George. Okay, well, technically I didn't… but I just finished writing the code that's going to-"

"Dream." George deadpanned, pinching the bridge of his nose. At least he was to the point where he didn't get his hopes up anymore.

"One month," Dream said confidently. "Four weeks and I'll have found the seed, recorded the video, and will have it edited. I swear, George, I can really feel it this time. This is going to be big- we are going to be big."

In the next month, George had to pay his student loan, his personal loan, his rent and utilities, hopefully buy groceries at some point, and- if he was lucky- maybe he could go to the laundromat. Although, considering his bank account was currently in the negatives and he had two bills due before his next paycheck came, George was wondering how Dream would even tell him whether or not his plan worked, seeing that he'd probably get evicted before then.

"Alright, Dream." George gave in- he always did. "You've got one month to make me eat my words."

The call erupted into excited conversations between his two friends, talking about how Dream was going to film the video, whether or not he should make a downloadable version of the plug-in so everyone could find the seed, and so much more than George's exhausted mind could hold onto.

George slipped out of the call, unnoticed, without bothering to say goodbye. He had the free pass of 'my WiFi cut out,' or 'I'm five hours ahead, idiots. I fell asleep,' or his personal favorite, 'I was off to fuck your mum.’

Tonight, the last reason was the closest to the truth- not that he was actually fucking anyone's mother. It was himself he would be fucking. After a day like today, there was nothing George craved more than the endorphin rush that accompanied his climax.

When George grabbed his phone with the intent to find something inspiring, he was instead met with a rejection letter from yet another tech startup company. George's stomach dropped as he read over each copied and pasted ingenuine word in the email. This was the first time in months that George felt like his interview went well, so to get a rejection letter not even twenty-four hours later… that one stung.

George fell back onto his bed, wondering if he'd even be able to still get off with all the disappointment coursing through him. After a second thought, George's dick twitched from inside his boxers, reminding him that he was always down to have an orgasm.

He brought his phone back up to his face, promptly deleting the rejection email. His thumb hovered over the Safari icon, but before he could think twice about it, George was scrolling through pages of apps until he found the blue icon for the App Store.

Before he knew it, OnlyFans was downloaded to his phone.

"Fuck it," George mumbled under his breath, beginning the process of creating an account for himself. First order of business was clicking the big 'Decline' button when the prompt to allow push notifications popped up. Yeah, a notification that DomDaddy69 liked his post was not something he'd ever want to see on his lockscreen.

Hey, if he was going to fuck himself anyway, he may as well see if he could earn something from it- a man's gotta eat. There was also a part of George- his dick, who would've guessed- that was enthralled by the idea of it.

Being on display for total strangers, the potential of some of those people not being strangers, the way he already knew how much more sensitive he felt when there were eyes on him- god, why didn't he think of this sooner?

George turned to his side, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the back of his closet door. Maybe that was why…

Unruly hair, wrinkled and ill-fitting clothes, scrawny build- he did have a rather large ass for his size though, so at least he had that going for him. If he was going to do this, he needed to think about it logically- he needed to approach it the way Dream would.

In theory, messy hair could work in his favor, giving him that freshly-fucked look. Wrinkled clothes also weren't really an inhibitor, since it's not like he would be wearing much of them on camera anyway. He would need to play up his strengths, like his ass, his apparently 'twink-esk' figure, and that he really, really knew how to give himself a mind blowing orgasm.

George got to work right away, suddenly having the motivation to make his bedding look a little neater and to scour his tiny flat until he found the one pair of women's underwear he owned. It was red and lacy, something he'd been sent accidentally with one of his Amazon packages, but it was perfect for the occasion.

It was small, definitely causing his ass to bulge out around the seams, but hey- wasn't that kind of the point? George pulled them back down, prepping himself nice and slowly. Considering he couldn't afford to subscribe to anyone else's content to see what people were actually posting, George was going in totally blind. Well, as blind as a person who watched porn on the daily could be.

This was meant to be fast and dirty, something that could get his (currently non-existent) audience off in minutes. George already knew what toy he was going to use, his dick leaking a generous amount of precum and aching to be touched just at the thought of it. Ironically enough, this toy always made him come completely untouched.

As soon as he could comfortably scissor three fingers inside of himself, George pulled them out completely, mourning the loss immediately. With shaky hands and accidentally getting some lube on his phone, George had set up his recording angle.

George retrieved his vibrating plug out of the drawer in his bedside table, using the excess lube on his hand to slick up the toy. It fell silly- counterproductive, even- to put the plug in and then put his underwear on, knowing he was just going to lay down and take them off again. Whatever- George felt full, was already teetering on the edge of his orgasm, and he hadn't even hit the record button yet.

With a final gulp and the sole need to come- and not get evicted- as his motivating factor, George pressed record and crawled away from the phone, keeping his face out of frame. While sitting on his knees with his back to the camera, he ran his hands down his waist and over his thighs, squeezing his hips with a gasp when he arched his back and the plug brushed against his prostate.

"Sorry, I- uh, I might've already gotten started behind the scenes," George apologized with a small laugh, unsure if he was even really supposed to talk at a time like this.

George propped himself up on his knees and pulled the underwear down slowly. This wasn't intended to be a strip tease- George was just genuinely worried he may rip the cheap lace on the underwear if he rushed the process.

With the underwear bunched up at his knees, George spread his cheeks to show off the plug he already had inserted. After giving himself a second to mentally prepare, George picked up the remote, holding it above his shoulder so the camera could see it too.

"Yeah, this isn't going to take long," he whimpered, pressing the power button.

The toy vibrated inside of him sinfully, deliciously, 'going to make him come in thirty seconds flat' -ly.

Slowly, George laid down on his side, letting every whine and moan echo around the room. He pushed his dick between his thighs, making it visible from the back where the camera was pointed. He could already feel precum leaking across the back of his thigh, making his dick glide between his smooth inner thighs with every twitch.

"Fuck, I'm- I'm gonna come. Oh fuck, it's so-" George couldn't finish his sentence, because an involuntary clench around the toy had pushed it directly against his prostate, and he was left shooting rope after rope of cum. It was all over his legs, the bedding, even the underwear he didn't manage to finish taking off was now cum-soaked.

When the pleasure turned into pain, and then that pain stopped also being pleasurable, George was reaching around aimlessly for the remote to turn it off. He was a mess, whining from overstimulation, and twitching with each wave of aftershock.

"God, I needed that," George mumbled to himself, rolling onto his back with his forearm draped over his eyes, his chest still heaving with every breath he took.

Most of the time, George would take the plug right out once he was done, but today felt different. Maybe it was the point of overstimulation he pushed himself to, or maybe it was because of the camera pointing at him.

"Think I… think I want to feel full for a little longer. I'll keep this in for a while," George chuckled under his breath, wondering why he kept trying to talk to the camera. His voice hardly sounded his own- so meek and quiet it was almost unrecognizable. He had half a mind to upload the video muted with whatever kind of music people listen to while they get off playing instead.

After giving himself one more minute to lay there and catch his breath, George finally crawled back over to the camera, ending the recording.

If he were thinking rationally, he would wait until morning to edit the video down and upload it. Okay, realistically, if he were truly thinking rationally, he probably wouldn't have just recorded himself coming in women's underwear. That meant the only logical thing to do was upload it tonight before he lost his nerve.

George fell asleep that night with one video, zero followers, zero comments, and zero subscribers.

George woke up the next morning with zero views on his video, five new followers, zero comments, and zero subscribers.

He rubbed his eyes and squinted at his phone screen, looking at a grayed out version of his video on his profile. Upon clicking on it, he was spared the second hand embarrassment of rewatching it, because an alert popped up.

Unverified accounts cannot upload content. Your verification is pending. Verification takes between 24-72 hours. Your video will automatically upload once your account has been verified, as long as you do not delete this draft.

George groaned after reading the message. He'd be lying if he said he didn't go to bed dreaming of getting a five dollar tip or something so he could grab a bagel from the shop across the street. He pulled himself out of bed anyway, going through the motions of his day on auto-pilot.

Dry cereal eaten by the fistful, logged on to MunchyMC, fucked around with Dream and Pandas throughout his work day, and logged off ten hours later with a headache and growling stomach. George decided to switch it up for dinner (translation: he ran out of instant noodles), opting to have beans on toast, and gaslight himself into thinking fondly of the meal- like having 'breakfast for dinner' was a fun childhood experience again.

That was how most of his days went, give or take a few breakdowns about 'how the fuck do I have a college degree and the best I can do is fix codes on a Minecraft server aimed for ten-year-olds?'. Even if his existence was a tad miserable, George was a creature of habit, so he found comfort in his routine and his ability to get lost in a blur of days that all felt the same.

What George didn't like was any deviation to that routine. Specifically, when that deviation came in the form of phone calls waking him up at four in the morning.

"I'll kill you and your entire-"

"I found it! I actually found it, like, I'm looking at it right now on my computer, George!"

George groaned, shoving his face into his pillow. He did not have the patience to deal with Dream, who had certainly not been taking his ADHD medication as recommended.

"It's four in the fucking morning, Dream. What the hell did you find that was worth waking me up?" George whined, wishing he could go back in time and unbefriend Dream.

"The seed, George! Pewdiepie's fucking seed!" Dream exclaimed with a wheeze-like laugh, which immediately led to a coughing fit loud enough to fully wake George from his half-asleep state.

"You found it? Already? You said it was going to take you a month and it's been, what? A few days, or maybe a week?" George sat up in his bed, switching the call to speakerphone so he could look at the date.

July 10th, 2019

Since when was it July?

"I appreciate the vote of confidence… I think. But no, we had that conversation just over three weeks ago. That means I have about a week to record and edit my video, and I'll still make the deadline," Dream rambled on, but George's mind had jumped back in time to the day they talked about this video idea in the first place.

The day George filmed a video of his own.

'Your video will automatically upload once your account has been verified, as long as you do not delete this draft.'

"Oh my god," George said under his breath, rushing to check his email.

"I know! We're going to make it happen- for real this time! We're-"

Anything else that Dream said after that was in one ear and out the other. The only thing George could focus on was the unread email sitting in his inbox from June 16th- the day after he made his OnlyFans account. He didn't even open the email, the subject line giving him everything he needed to know.

Congrats, GeorgeNotFound! You're Verified!

Scratch that, the email directly above that one confirmed his fear.

Your video was successfully uploaded!

"-what I told you, baby! This is going to be epic," Dream sighed, blissfully unaware of the way George's heart was either beating so quickly he couldn't feel it anymore, or maybe had stopped all together.

George's OnlyFans profile could only be described as a jump scare.

One video, 1.2 million views, 108,912 new followers, 3,665 new comments, and 1,877 new subscribers.

"George? Did you fall asleep on me?" Dream asked, sounding just as confused as George felt.

"No, I'm… I'm, uh, I'm-" George paused, navigating the app with shaking hands, clicking on the 'My Earnings' tab.

"Hey, are you alright? You're stuttering like you just saw a ghost or something," Dream questioned, his tone growing less confused and more concerned.

Seeing a ghost was a good way to put it, since George was fairly certain he died and was now watching his animated corpse reread the numbers on his screen over and over, failing to absorb the information before him.

Subscription cost: $5/month (click here to edit pricing)

Current subscriber count: 1,877

New subscribers in the last 30 days: 1,877

Tips: N/A (click here to enable tipping)

Gross profit: $9,435

Cash-out available: $7,548 (click here for withholding breakdown)

"George?"

"Sorry, I uh, I think I need to go back to bed," George mumbled, a headache sprouting where his brow was tightly furrowed.

"Can I stay on call with you?" Dream asked, for some odd reason.

"Do what you want. I'm dreaming right now, anyway." George closed his eyes and laid back down.

That's what this was- nothing more than a dream. He'd wake up in the morning, check his OnlyFans account again with a clear head, and he'd see completely different numbers than the absolute insanity on his screen right now. He'd get another few hours of shut eye and then go back to his mundane little life, where he did not have just shy of eight-thousand dollars sitting in an account in his name, because he uploaded a video of him coming all over himself in women's panties…

This was all just a really weird dream.

So, as it turned out, it was not all a weirdly vivid dream. George was right about one thing though- the numbers were definitely different when he woke up.

They'd gone up.

George needed to- god, he didn't know what he needed to do. Quit his job? Hire an accountant? Fucking tell somebody? Okay, no- that last one actually sounded like a very, very bad decision. He could already envision the mortification he'd feel when telling Dream or Pandas about this.

'This' referring to George's viral, homemade, and very much amateur porno.

George didn't quit his job, but he did message Bad saying he wasn't feeling very well- not a lie, he was rather sick to his stomach over the whole thing. He even had Dream vouch for him, since he witnessed George's damn near mental breakdown at four in the morning.

With his free time- well, not free anymore, since he was passively earning more by doing nothing than he expected to make in the next six months- George had been staring at three tabs on the OnlyFans app for about an hour.

Cash-out

Delete Account

Comments

Honestly, he didn't know which option was the scariest. Cashing out meant calling his bank and explaining this small (medium? large?) fortune he'd fallen into was in fact not a scam and that he requested they approve his deposit. Granted, to most people, seven and a half thousand dollars wasn't an unbelievable amount of money to deposit at once, but for George- whose bank account had rarely been in the positives over the last two years- it was definitely enough to make alarm bells go off with his bank.

Deleting his account and pretending all of this never happened was probably the most logical option. That being said, giving it up now, when he'd hardly just begun, meant leaving the only job that paid a ridiculous amount of money for doing something George loved.

The comments… that was where George would find out if this was all a cruel joke or not- if they were simply just comments making fun of him. Maybe an entire hoard of people had decided to pity-subscribe to him, like he'd inadvertently created his own pathetic 'for only five dollars a month, you can sponsor this twink. That's just sixteen cents a day to feed George' commercial.

After realizing options one and two were linked, seeing that George refused to delete his account without cashing out first, that only left him with the third option. George clicked on his video, pausing it before he died of secondhand embarrassment, and opened the comment section. He figured this would be more efficient than doom-scrolling through his notifications, since the most liked comments would be at the top.

Goosebumps raised along the back of George's neck, making him roll his shoulders in an attempt to alleviate them.

Need to know how big that plug is… I want to see how much he can take (8,231 likes)

why can't I tip him??? (9,010 likes)

pretty sure i came from the audio alone- he has the bitchiest whine (9,467 likes)

Best 2min and 34sec of my life (11,899 likes)

The things I would do to this twink… (14,009 likes)

George's breathing grew a little heavier, his bottom lip having gone numb where it was trapped between his teeth. He felt hot all over from reading what people had to say about him, his body, the ways they wanted to worship it. There was still another comment- the top comment- left for him to read, and he already had a decent idea of what it was going to say.

When is he going to post again? I need more! (23,004 likes)

So, this wasn't all just an elaborate, ten-thousand dollar prank. People wanted this… wanted him.

His followers, now nearing 150,000 of them, were waiting for him to post something. Potentially more importantly, his subscribers were also waiting for him to post something that was just for them- something worth their money.

Granted, it didn't take much to get George hard- sometimes a breeze in the right direction could do it- but an opportunity had fallen into his lap… the opportunity was his lap? He was hard- that's the point. He was hard, already palming himself through his ill-fitting basketball shorts, and there were people who were apparently ready and willing to pay him money to see it.

"Great." George slumped his shoulders, staring at the disturbingly high pile of dirty laundry building up in the corner of his room- featuring his only pair of 'sexy underwear' somewhere in the middle, still covered in his dried release.

George looked at his disheveled reflection, still in disbelief that he was now a multi… thousand… aire? Whatever, he'd work out the terminology another time. Right now, his need to come was overpowering his desire to figure out the logistical side of things.

His need to shower was also pretty high up on the list.

Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone…

Although the aesthetics of his bathroom were probably the least of any of his viewers concerns, George couldn't help but do a bit of a spree cleaning of his shower. Well, at least he tried as much as someone who couldn't stop pausing to stroke himself through his clothes for a bit of relief could.

George sat down on the edge of the tub wall, now completely naked, with his dick pressing against his stomach. He wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do or say- he really should've looked into this a little more before starting.

George leaned forward, pressing record on his phone after ensuring his face was out of frame. Did he have any clue what he was going to say? No. But diamonds are made under pressure, so watching that little red light blinking on his screen was all the pressure he needed.

"Hi. Fuck, this is so fucking awkward," George groaned, collapsing in on himself. He let out a deep breath, sitting up straight to keep his head out of frame, and maybe gave himself a few strokes to relax.

"Hi, uh, sorry I haven't posted. But, I'm back? I was actually… well, I was reading your comments on my last post and," he paused, bringing his arm to his side and putting himself fully on display. "Well, this happened."

George couldn't help but palm himself again, chasing the high any amount of friction could provide him. It took him a solid fifteen seconds to stop himself before he got to the point of no return. He let out a feeble laugh, running a finger through the precum he had gotten on his stomach.

"I guess I'm going to go take care of this in a video for my subscribers. I just wanted to post something for everyone to see too, so you, uh, you know I'm back." George shook his head, cringing at his awkward words, but stood up from the tub regardless.

He turned to the side, looking at his reflection in the large mirror behind where his camera was set up. On instinct, George twisted his hips, running his hand over the silhouette of his ass, before realizing he hadn't hit 'end' on his recording yet.

"Oh, fuck," he said through an exhale, pausing the video.

Without the camera pointed at him, George felt like he could finally breathe… he also felt extremely eager to turn it back on. He needed to focus though. If he edited out his false start to the video and uploaded it now, by the time he finished recording himself actually getting off, took a much needed shower, and then edited the second video down- he'd probably have another influx of new subscribers who wanted to see his exclusive content.

Just like the one he uploaded a few weeks ago, George edited down his video with trembling hands, deciding on a whim to leave in his little self-absorbed moment where he checked himself out in the mirror. He sounded so nervous, his voice was nearly as unrecognizable as it had been in his first video. He could only hope no one else would notice his anxiety. George uploaded the video as soon as it had loaded onto the app- after triple checking to make sure he never let more than his chin and lips dip into frame, of course.

George set his phone back up on his sink and found himself standing aimlessly in the center of the bathroom. After a moment's deliberation, George went back into his bedroom and grabbed a couple different toys out of his collection, along with some lube- he was going to shower anyway, who cared if he made a mess?

(And hey, if he chose to spend money on sex toys instead of going to the laundromat, that was his business.)

George set everything up on the counter outside of the camera's field of vision, letting out another exhale before pressing record. He could do this… all he had to do was fuck himself, which he was pretty much a master at.

(A master…bater…)

"I'm guessing you watched the other video I just uploaded in this bathroom before coming here, so hi… again?" George shook his head, leaning against the sink in a way that only featured his chest in frame.

"Like I mentioned, I was reading your comments and, well, I think you can see for yourself how that went," he let out an airy laugh, standing up straight, but crossed one of his arms over himself. Even if he loved the feeling of being on camera knowing a thousand- maybe even tens of thousands- of people were going to be looking at his body, it was still his body. His awkward, thin, very much not in any kind of shape body.

"So," George cleared his throat, reaching out for the plug he'd used in his other video. "I saw what you guys had to say and I figured I'd answer some of your questions- observations? I don't- you know what I mean, I think." George pulled the plug into frame, mindlessly toying with the tip of it. He tried to not be embarrassed at the way his dick twitched with excitement, especially since he hadn't actually used that specific plug since he recorded his first video.

He could feel the flush running down his body, his camera even picking up the redness growing on his neck and chest. The more he noticed it, the more prominent it became, so he did the only sensible thing he could think of- continued on like nothing was wrong.

"A lot of you wondered how big this was, since it made me come so hard… and fast," George trailed off, genuinely finding himself getting lost in the way he was rubbing his thumb around the silicone tip. "Sorry, I just-"

George cut himself off, setting down the plug and switching it out for the lube instead. In hindsight, he poured way too much on his hand, but he didn't care. He couldn't just stand there and give a 'Day in my life: butt plug collection edition!' demonstration without having something inside of him.

"Fuck, I just," he paused, sucking in a sharp breath when he pushed two fingers inside of himself hastily. The tight ring of muscle burned slightly at the stretch, seeing that it'd been at least a few days since he bothered to even finger himself when he jacked off, but the burn was more than welcomed.

"Guess, uh, guess this show'n'tell whatever might not last as long as I- ah- hoped," George gasped when he added a third finger, his knees buckling under his weight. He didn't normally stand when he fingered himself, but at that point, he was too desperate to come to care about comfort.

George turned around and used the wall to support himself, arching his back with each shallow thrust of his fingers. He wanted to peek over his shoulder and see what the camera was picking up, but he had no idea if that would show his face or not. George carried on, desperately reaching out behind himself for the first toy in his reach, which ended up being a different one of his plugs.

His knotted plug.

"Oh- fuck- oh my fucking god," George panted, spreading his legs further when the knot pressed against his rim. He was so far gone, it was like he'd completely forgotten there was a camera recording him.

"Please, oh please- hmph," he whined, pushing himself to near tears trying to get the knot of the toy inside of himself. It wasn't often he used this plug, reserving it for specific occasions, but it always drove him absolutely insane whenever he did use it- once he finally felt the satisfying pop of the knot locking inside of him.

The plug pressed dizzyingly against his prostate, making the task of turning around to lean against the wall for support nearly impossible. He could feel sweat growing over his entire body, his skin itching with heat and arousal.

"Sorry, I uh-" George gasped when he shifted on his feet and he involuntarily clenched around the toy. "Mmm- I don't use this one too… too of-often," he stuttered, crossing his legs to help balance himself, but it only made his desire stronger. George was thrusting into nothing, certain that if he took either of his hands off the small ledge he was hanging onto to stroke himself, there was no way he'd remain upright.

The rock of his hips was making the tip of the plug brush against his sweet spot with a steady rhythm, like it was a partner who knew his body inside and out. The thought of the plug being a person- being a man with large hands and strong arms that could hold him up by his waist when he went limp from pleasure, was enough to send George over the edge.

The sounds that came out of him, while his cock twitched with every long string of come that stuck to his stomach, were almost inhumane. His body practically convulsed, his chest heaving with each erratic breath he took.

"Fuck, fuck, mmm- fuck," George cursed under his breath, finally bringing a hand to his dick, stroking it through the final waves of his orgasm.

Slowly, his dick softened in his hand, the lustful fog started to clear, and George was overwhelmingly aware of the camera pointed at him- not to mention the fact it'd just captured one of the hardest orgasms of his life.

"I- ha," George paused, letting out an airy laugh. "I don't think I thought this through very well."

His knotted plug was reserved for special occasions- specifically the ones where he planned to edge himself. Was George aware that omegaverse isn’t real, that he wasn’t actually an omega, and the knot in his ass wasn't going to take thirty minutes to go down like a theoretical alpha's would? Yes. Did that mean he would usually take it out any sooner than thirty minutes? Absolutely not.

The toy could always make him come hard enough to see hazy stars, but it did require a considerable amount of time for him to truly loosen up enough to pull it out without too much discomfort. Based on the length of the recording- 7:36 and counting- George was well aware of how fucked he was.

His options were to leave the plug in and become increasingly overstimulated, or take it out and deal with the consequences of not properly stretching before shoving a knot in his ass.

George gasped, nearly falling to his knees, when he pushed himself off the wall and towards the vanity where his phone was propped up. His dick, pathetic and soft, twitched helplessly with an attempt to harden again.

"Maybe we'll go for two next time. Um, bye." George cringed, thankful his face was out of frame.

The recording ended just shy of eight minutes and George finally let himself collapse to his knees. He couldn't help but lay his chest on the cold tile floor with his hips and ass in the air, almost like he really was an omega presenting himself- god, he needed to stop reading so much omegaverse shit.

He whined and shifted, finding more pleasure than he usually did in the overstimulation that lit up his every nerve. For a second, George wondered if he jumped the gun by ending the recording so soon. Then again, he had no idea what his audience was or wasn't into, and there was already a chance he'd lose viewers over his knotting kink anyway.

Slow and steady, George crawled over to the bath and let the tub fill up with steaming water, while he rocked his hips to shift the toy inside himself. The act was a bit for pleasure, he couldn't deny, but he'd also learned that it helped stretch himself open enough to comfortably pull out the knot.

After crawling into the bath, sighing in relief at the way the hot water soothed his aching muscles, George laid back with a peaceful smile on his face.

He didn't need to worry about rent, or loan repayments. He didn't need to choose between groceries, or hot water. He didn't have to decide between clean clothes, or sex toys. George could have all of it.

Give a poor man a dollar, he'll eat for a day. Give a poor man a camera, lube, and a butt plug or two, he'll eat for… however long you can eat with ten-thousand dollars.

George was on cloud nine, watching his subscriber count double in a matter of days. But, like all good things, it had to come to an end.

Dream had sent him a rough edit of the Pewdiepie Minecraft seed video he'd recorded, which George tweaked and sent back. While George struggled with figuring out how to enable tipping on his account, Dream struggled with figuring out how to upload their video. All in all, George had little hope for the project- as he did with any of Dream and Pandas' grand plans- estimating the video would max out at a thousand views and Reddit will have moved on within the hour.

George wasn't expecting the video to go viral- to surpass a million views in less than three days.

While Dream and Pandas celebrated and yelled through his headphones, talking about what their next big project for Dream's YouTube channel would be, George sat silently on the other line. He'd been dwelling on something Dream said towards the beginning of their call.

"I'm blowing up, like, this is real, you guys! And I, well, I want you guys to come with me. I want you to make YouTube channels also and we can film all kinds of videos together! Hell, we can probably even get into live streaming! Point being, I really want the three of us to do this together. What do you say?"

Pandas agreed immediately, leaving a few tense seconds of silence between their cheers and waiting for George to also agree to be in this little 'dream team'.

Despite his better judgment, George said yes.

He could do this… he could have two large online platforms, both of which stupidly included his real name. He could be GeorgeNotFound on OnlyFans and keep that side of himself totally separate from GeorgeHD, the YouTuber-slash-college graduate.

Lots of people worked two jobs- George being no stranger to that himself. Granted, those weren't jobs that each paid in the tens of thousands per month, but that was beside the point.

The point was, he could do this- he would do this.

He hoped.

Chapter Text

The fucking pandemic.

The whole world seemed to lose their shit over it, and George had too, just for an extremely different reason.

Everyone was home, not working, and bored out of their minds. For most people, that meant dedicating more time than anyone ever thought imaginable to consuming media. When the news channels became too daunting and the word 'unprecedented' had lost just about all its meaning, people searched for other types of content to indulge in.

Specifically, people went to sites like YouTube and OnlyFans.

For George, that meant that while the rest of the world was out of work, he was entertaining the masses on both sides of the spectrum.

George's YouTube channel, GeorgeHD, had completely taken off, sitting at over a million subscribers, and growing by the day. Sapnap- Pandas upside down and backwards… kind of- had also been growing his YouTube channel steadily.

Dream, though, had already passed ten million subscribers in a year, not to mention had racked up hundreds of millions of views.

And those were all people who knew George's face and his voice.

Then there was an entirely different group of people, ones who knew George's voice- kind of… he unintentionally created a bit of a character for his OnlyFans- and his body. They were also an impressive group in size.

In just a year's time, George had uploaded twenty-one videos, accumulated 89.6 million views, gained another 1.48 million followers, and for the last three months had an average of just under 300,000 monthly subscribers.

George, on OnlyFans subscriptions alone, was making over a million dollars each month. That wasn't even including tips or the non-monetary gifts some of his more avid followers would send him in the mail.

"Wow, who would've guessed, it's another gift from ClayBalls. Thank you, Clay." George bit his lip, knowing that if his mouth was even in frame, the viewers wouldn't suspect a thing. In reality, he was holding back a laugh at the fact his most loyal subscriber, highest tipper, and best gift-sender was someone with a username so close to his best friend's real name.

It was a shame he could never tell Dream about it.

After a year, George had kept every single person in his personal life- aside from his accountant- in the dark about his job. The money was easy enough to fib about to his family, claiming it all came from YouTube. Hiding his toys and lingerie was also no issue, seeing that he had essentially turned his spare bedroom into GeorgeNotFound's room.

"Let's see what- oh, oh you didn't! Oh my god, Clay- stop," George gushed, pulling out an all black lingerie set. It was similar to one from his wish list, but in true ClayBalls fashion, instead of the cheaper version George picked out, he purchased a set from Nin Luxury Lingerie.

"Thank you, Clay, really. Should I try it on? I think I should try it on." George was already propping himself up on his knees, stripping himself out of the white mini skirt and fishnets he'd been wearing, which- to be fair- hardly left anything up to the imagination anyway.

"Oops, don't mind- um, I just really like this lingerie," George laughed under his breath, pressing his palm against his half-hard dick before stripping out of his white cropped shirt. He'd never been a materialistic person before, but- especially because of Clay- George had learned to associate gifts and sex a little too closely.

"Tell me," George paused, adjusting the final strap into place, and ran his hands across the soft lace bodysuit. "Would you rather fuck me with this on… or off?" he asked, turning around and arching his back enough to show the back of the bottoms was completely open, providing easy access to whoever wanted to slip inside of him. As if his point hadn't already been made clear, George circled his middle finger around his rim, slipping it in just to the first knuckle.

"I think I better end here. I just might have to film something else for my subscribers after this, if you know what I mean. Well, thank you all so much for sending me such great presents to my P.O. Box, and a special thanks to Clay. I'll keep an eye out for your answer to my question- on or off."

George ended the recording, falling back on his bed. It took all his strength to not flail around and squeal like a school girl in one of those coming of age films. He couldn't believe this was his life- that he was showered with gifts and money, both from people who loved him for his personality and from people who believed he was the sexiest thing to walk the earth.

After giving himself a second to bask in the glorious feeling, George got back to work. He was quick to edit his P.O. Box unboxing video, uploading the cut down version to his followers. If not for the fact he had already committed to a stream with Dream, Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity in less than an hour, he probably would've also filmed that extra video for his subscribers.

Instead, George uploaded a prerecorded one he had on hand. He’d been making a lot of extra videos, considering he was getting off damn near every day anyway. This one was just a quick video of him on his bathroom floor, riding one of his dildos, until he came so hard he accidentally got a bit of cum on his phone.

It made him laugh and after having gotten to know what his subscribers were looking for over the last year, George knew that what they found the hottest was him just genuinely enjoying himself.

It made sense, after he thought about it. Free porn sites were full of fake moans and weak orgasms, with way too dramatic acting involved. Considering the fact everyone was currently trapped in their homes because of the pandemic, it made sense that people were looking for something that at least felt real, if they were being deprived of the actual real thing.

George uploaded that video with his usual caption- describing what happened with probably one too many 'sweat drop' emojis- but also included a promise at the end to film himself in the new lingerie set from Clay.

By the time George finished putting away all the items from his haul, he'd worked up a slight sweat and was still wearing nothing but the lace bodysuit. The thought of putting on real clothes to stream in sounded awful- the feeling of scratchy, old cotton against his skin instead of new lace or silk. Even with George having gone through a substantial hype beast phase, in which he purchased more Supreme clothes than anyone should own, George still preferred the luxurious feeling of satin on his skin.

"That was quick," George giggled under his breath, checking his phone to find several direct messages from ClayBalls waiting for him.

Off

Wait- on

No, definitely off

George tilted his head, checking the time- still fifteen minutes before he needed to join Karl's stream. He had some time to have a little fun with Clay.

really? :( but it looks so good on me

George added a photo to his message, featuring him laying back in his bed, with his hips twisted to show off his ass.

Fuck

Fuck

Okay, yeah on. I want you wearing it when I fuck you

God, you're so beautiful

It was easy to get his fans worked up, but George would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the attention from Clay a little more than the average 'BigDickBob_420'. While he and Clay hadn't shared much in these private conversations, he had learned at least some about the patron.

He was young- somewhere in his twenties, his money was 'self-made' (whatever that meant), George figured he was an American based on his choice of spelling, and he was big. Maybe George shouldn't have asked, but it seemed like a good business tactic at the time, like, playing into a size kink thing.

George just didn't expect it to be his size kink.

Oddly enough, Clay refused to share any part of him personally- no photos, no videos, no audio, nothing that would make him more than an ATM on a screen. For some reason, even if their conversations were always kept brief, George couldn't help but create some kind of image of who was on the other end of the phone.

thank you clay :)

i have to go to work so i cant really chat for more than a minute or two

George was beginning to question his own life choices that he was actually considering being a little late to the stream, just to talk to Clay a bit more. God, okay, yeah- that was bad. He sat up in his bed, already sifting through the pile of clothes that were unfolded and shoved into a hamper. Hey- just because George was rich, didn't make him any less lazy.

You're too pretty to work

Hate the thought of how many people get to see you when I can't

George rolled his eyes, ignoring the small bit of endearment he found in Clay's possessiveness. It was harmless, seeing that he was thousands of miles away in America. Plus, despite not knowing anything about his character on a real level, George just got a trustworthy feeling from Clay. Sometimes, George even entertained the idea of telling Clay he was a streamer, just to rip off the metaphorical bandage or whatever.

He immediately dismissed that thought.

i like what i do for work :)

only sad part is i have to change out of this…

Just to throw him a bone, George sent one more picture of himself with his fingers toying at the straps around his shoulder.

Keep it on.

George raised an eyebrow, rereading the short message. Maybe he was a little too chronically online, but he couldn't help but feel the intensity that the period added. Before George answered, another notification popped up on his screen.

ClayBalls sent you a $1,000 tip! ♥️

Message: For being my good boy

"That idiot," George mumbled under his breath, fanning his face, which had embarrassingly flushed from reading the little 'my' in front of 'good boy'. George wasn't one to back down from a challenge, especially not one with a thousand dollar price tag.

George ran to his closet, pulling out his only pair of dress pants and his least wrinkled button-up. Would he be wearing that for Karl’s stream? God, no. But would it be safer if Clay assumed he worked some sort of business casual office job? Yes. He was definitely going to be late for the stream, but this was arguably more entertaining than playing JackBox, so he didn't mind making the others wait a few minutes.

im starting to think i give you too much power

George took a picture in his bathroom mirror with his phone blocking his face and his shirt lifted up to show the lingerie underneath. After he sent the photo, he stared at himself for a minute longer, imagining a life where he wore lingerie under button-ups and dress pants, making deals or answering emails (whatever people with office jobs did) all while having a dirty little secret just below the surface.

Others may get to see you, but I'm the only one who knows what you're wearing. I like that

I have some work I need to tend to as well, but I hope to see you post something in that set soon

George barely read the messages in his haste to get undressed. That was when a dangerous thought crossed his mind- he may not be working in an office with lingerie under his dress clothes, but he could still go live with lingerie under his T-shirt.

Considering George was on his fourth 'where are you????' message from Karl, he decided that he didn't even have the time to fight his way out of all the straps and lace anyway. George swapped his button up for a white Supreme shirt and his dress pants for black sweats, all while his dick twitched with excitement over the dirty secret he was about to keep.

Despite his tardiness, Karl still had his 'starting soon' screen up for a few more minutes after he joined. Ironically enough, Dream was also a few minutes late to joining the stream, arriving a little after they opened up the first lobby. Immediately, that started the DNF jokes and pandering right away, though they were bound to get there regardless.

"George, look at my message," Karl giggled, the sound of his keys typing in a flurry echoing through the call. George rolled his eyes at the camera, turning to look at his second monitor where he had Discord pulled up.

look at this dono omg pls do it itll be mad funny

you cant do it rn tho or everyone is gonna know this is why

George squinted at the screen, making Karl laugh and just about everyone started complaining- both on call and the chat- about wanting to be let in on their little secret. Little did they know, they soon would be.

$50 donation: Karl can you ask George to call Dream by his real name Clay so we can see his reaction?

"Guys, Karl was just messaging me begging to stop roasting him at this game, because it's embarrassing for him to lose this hard on his own stream," George gloated, his smile wide with mischief.

"Oh, he's a beast- a hypebeast, your honor. I hope I grow up to be as rich as you one day, Gogy," Karl played along, 'boo'-ing at George for winning the round, picking on the fact he was wearing Supreme, since "DNFing" had been banned from the game (and conversation) for how riled up it got the fans.

George laughed with his full chest, finding it a little ironic that the cost of the lingerie he was wearing underneath made the Supreme shirt's price comparable to a thrift store.

"Just get funnier, Karl. Maybe then you could win a round," George shrugged, looking at his second monitor where he'd forgotten he had Karl's stream pulled up, watching his green screened in reflection shrug a few seconds later. He saw an odd shadow, but Dream's voice quickly grabbed his attention.

"Okay, children. Behave."

George didn't need to look at his Discord messages with Karl to know the influx of messages were all saying something along the lines of do it now.

"Wow, Clay. You're being so… assertive." George pursed his lips into a straight line, doing his best to hang onto whatever shred of composure he had left. The call fell silent, but Quackity was the first one to burst into laughter.

And if Quackity was laughing, everyone was laughing.

"What?!" Dream asked through a gasp, his laugh sounding far more nervous than everyone else's. "What did- what did you just call me?"

"I called you Clay. It's your name, isn't it? Am I not allowed to call you by your name… Clay?" George asked. At first he was trying to be as snarky and sarcastic as possible, but maybe he fell into a little too comfortable of a role by the end of his point.

It really felt like he was teasing his Clay for a second there.

"George, don't- um, I mean y-you can, but, um-"

"Chill, I won't actually do that, Dream," George interrupted, taking pity on him- although that didn't stop him from laughing again at Dream's distress. He glanced over at his second monitor again, watching the small green-screened versions of his friends red in the face and wheezing with laughter. He wished he could see Dream's face there too.

Then that odd shadow caught George's attention again and- oh.

That wasn't a shadow.

"Pee break," George rushed, cutting the feed to his camera and muting his microphone within the same breath.

"No one's noticed, it's fine- it's fine," George paced his room, covering his mouth with his hands, and whispered under his breath.

Of course he had to pick a white T-shirt to cover his black lingerie.

The shirt was fucking see-through.

Shadows of intricate straps wrapped around his torso and shoulders, the texture of the lace peeking through- how the hell had no one said anything?

Dream:

You okay?

You looked a little freaked out when you left

George?

George tossed his phone aside, groaning loudly to himself, while more messages from Dream flooded his lockscreen. It was an easy enough fix- a hoodie would cover him completely and he could just claim to have been chilly- but the sheer magnitude of the shame he felt was making him sick.

It was also making him hard, which was another problem.

George stripped out of the shirt before throwing on a hoodie and cranking up his air conditioning- knowing his argument of being cold wouldn't bode well if he was suddenly pink and sweating.

He ignored all of Dream's messages, scrolling right past his messages app, and opened OnlyFans instead.

i hate you

like

literally hate you

Unsurprisingly, Clay started typing right away.

ClayBalls:

I'm sorry, Princess. Does this help?

George groaned again, unable to hold back from palming himself through his sweatpants at the sight of the next notification that popped up on his phone.

ClayBalls sent you a $500 tip! ♥️

Message: Because now I *know* you listened

He glanced over at his monitor, spotting his friends already in the middle of a new round of rap battle, meaning he had a little time- but definitely not enough to do what his body begged for.

fuck

that makes it worse clay omg

George shifted uncomfortably, deciding sitting down was going to be the better option. His quickly-hardening dick was trapped in a lace prison, which only turned him on more. The way the luxurious texture just barely scratched against his skin was almost too perfect.

ClayBalls:

Are you okay though, like actually?

You can take it off whenever you go on a break

Just knowing you actually wore it… god, George, you drive me absolutely insane

"That makes two of us," he muttered under his breath.

Dream:

George where tf did you go? It's been like 10min

George looked up again, watching his friends laugh- Karl going as far as tipping himself over in his computer chair. It struck something in him.

yeah im getting back on now

i was just trying to find a jumper

im cold :[

George got back into his computer chair, putting his headphones back on. He hadn't unmuted himself yet, or made his return known, too focused on the odd feeling that felt heavy in his chest.

Dream:

How messy is your room??? I could've just mailed you a hoodie in the time you’ve been gone :P

If you're cold, do you want to go lay down? I can tell Karl you're not feeling good

George stared down at his phone. Normally Dream's mother-hen tendencies made him laugh and feel cared for, but at that moment, it just made the heaviness grow.

Looking over at his bed, George let himself indulge in the idea of him actually being cold and Dream being there, wrapping him up in far too many blankets, while sitting beside him so he wouldn't be alone. George imagined Dream would be the type to hold George's phone for him and scroll TikTok, that way George could keep his hands warm under the covers.

im good

promise :]

"You idiots miss me?" George asked, unmuting his mic but giving himself another second of peace with his camera off.

"Gogy!" Sapnap called out, followed by an array of kissing noises, which then turned into Karl and Quackity also making kissing sounds.

"Hi, George. Welcome back."

George made sure to turn on his camera before he rolled his eyes, ensuring Dream would see he was still his snarky-self and hopefully stop worrying.

"Hi, Dream," George emphasized for no particular reason other than he hoped it would put a smile on Dream's face.

ClayBalls:

George?

Being as inconspicuous as possible, George pulled his phone down to his lap, reading the notification. He debated on not answering- he was working after all- but George hated making Clay worry about him. It was odd, the relationship they had formed. They weren't exactly friends, but George had always felt a certain connection with Clay that he didn't get with many people.

Clay made him feel the way Dream, Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity did- like even with his limited knowledge of who Clay was as a person, George could imagine him seamlessly integrating into the group.

im okay now

just a lot for a second there

ive gotta get back to work but i promise im good

Clay didn't answer, but George didn't let himself dwell on it too much- Clay did say that he was also busy, so the fact he took the time out of whatever high power job he has just to respond to George's silly complaint was enough.

Thankfully, no one mentioned his wardrobe change and his dick behaved for the remainder of the stream. If anything, as the unpleasant feeling in his heart continued to grow, touching himself was the last thing on George's mind.

Even while laughing with his friends, reading out donations, and overall having what should’ve been considered a good time, George only felt one thing.

Lonely.

Granted, the world shutting down hardly affected him, since he never left his flat anyway, but that wasn't really the type of loneliness George felt. Sure, he had friends in England- Wilbur, Tommy, Niki, and a few others- but those friends weren't like Dream and Sapnap. The three of them had been through so much together and the fact George had never met either of them- hadn't even seen Dream's face- it made him feel like he was missing out.

It made him feel like he was being left behind.

It was that night after Karl's stream that George brought up visiting America for the first time, while Dream and Sapnap sat in a call with him. Unsurprisingly, they agreed with the idea immediately, already getting excited about wanting to make plans and all the places they could take George to in both Florida and Texas.

All they had to do was wait out the pandemic. Easy enough, right? Maybe a few more weeks and the whole thing would be over.

Just a few more weeks and George could buy a plane ticket to meet his best friends.

Chapter Text

It wasn't even a full three months into the new year and yet George was in the very same place he swore to himself that he'd stop ending up.

In his depressing little flat's kitchen, laying down on the linoleum floor, while silently crying.

Self pity wasn't a good look on him. Then again, George didn't really care about what he looked like those days.

Nine months ago, George was on top of the world, planning his future visit to America, waiting for the day the travel bans were lifted. Seven months ago, his spirit wasn't quite crushed, but it was definitely lacking the same excitement. Four months ago, now that was when his heart broke. Dream and Sapnap had made the decision to move in together.

Three months ago, George stayed on the phone all night, while Sapnap drove the sixteen hours from Texas to Florida, only to be hung up on as soon as Sapnap pulled into Dream’s their driveway. Not only could he not physically be there to see them meet each other for the first time, but he couldn't even hear it happen in real time.

The breakdown George had in January over Sapnap moving in with Dream was when he promised himself as a somewhat delayed New Year's resolution that he would stop waking up on his kitchen floor after crying himself to sleep.

Today, George didn't have a reason to cry. There were no big events happening that he was missing out on. The world was still shut down- it's not like he was stuck while everyone else got to resume their lives. No matter how much George reminded himself of that, he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

He was trapped in London, the city he grew up in, yet had never felt further away from home.

There were plenty of things he could busy himself with- work, mainly. George didn't really get around to streaming much other than the monthly MCC tournament anymore. There were plenty of things he could stream or record for his YouTube channel, but he couldn't bring himself to even look in the direction of his computer most days.

Things had slowed down, the DreamSMP arguably having passed its peak. L'Manburg came and went, lore was slow to come out, and it felt like everyone was feeling a bit of fatigue. With the world reopening- kind of- it meant people weren't at home with nothing to do anymore, so the lower numbers were discouraging, even if no one really wanted to admit that.

As for his OnlyFans, he was uploading content at about a similar pace, but it was all pre-recorded videos from when he still enjoyed his work.

Pathetically enough, when ClayBalls disappeared off the face of the platform, it seemed like he took George's will to make content with him.

No, George did not fall in love with him, nor was he upset about losing such a devoted fan… he was just sad. He took it as a reality check, that no matter how obsessed people can be with something, at the end of the day, everyone moves on. If Clay, the person who was obsessed with showering George in money, gifts, clothes, anything he asked for, could cut contact out of the blue one day, it proved that everything really was temporary.

Clay was probably off making someone else happy, giving them gifts and affection, instead of George.

"Talk to me, George. Please."

George sniffled, lifting his head off the hard ground, and wiped the fresh tears he hadn't even noticed formed. Beside him, his phone was lying face up, his battery on seven percent, and his TeamSpeak call with Dream 32:51:36 and counting. Dream knew something was going on with George, no matter how adamantly George refused to acknowledge it after he'd called Dream, just so he wouldn't have to cry alone on his kitchen floor.

"I don't know what to say," George mumbled, followed by a wince and groan as he pushed himself up off the floor. His back hurt, his skin was covered in a gross sheen of sweat and grime, and his head was pounding.

"Are you getting up?" Dream asked, likely having heard George's grunting.

"Yeah." George set his phone on his nightstand and plugged it in, crawling into bed without a second thought.

"Were you going to eat something? Maybe take a shower? Or you could-"

"In bed," George interrupted, pulling the blankets up to his chin.

Eating was hard. Showering was hard. Fuck, even laying in bed and doing nothing but breathing felt too hard sometimes. George thought this might be one of those sometimes.

"Baby, you've gotta eat," Dream spoke softly, making George pull his phone into bed with him, half convinced the call glitched out at first. "I'm worried about you."

"Worrying is dumb. I'm fine, so don't worry," George rolled his eyes, setting his phone down beside his head on his pillow. Sometimes, this was the closest George thought he'd ever feel to sharing a bed with someone again.

“Can I DoorDash you something? You know, in case you change your mind?"

"Dream, I said I'm-"

"You're not fine, George. Look, I- I love you, so I've been trying to let you do this your way, but I'm fucking scared, George. You're not eating, you're not taking care of yourself, you're not working- literally all you do is sleep and cry. And look, I've been there, hell- sometimes I'm still there. You just need to find the words, George. I can't- I can't stand to see your face so sunken in and lifeless anymore," Dream interrupted, starting out hot but quickly cooling down.

"I'm just, I don't know, I think I'm depressed." George knew it wasn't much, if anything he was doing nothing more than stating the obvious, but based on the small sigh Dream let out, George figured he was at least on the right track.

"What's making you depressed?"

"Is it not obvious?" George scoffed, rolling onto his back when he felt the tears growing in his eyes and his face heating up. "I'm alone, Dream. You- you have Sapnap and he has you. Karl has all the Mr. Beast guys. Tommy has Tubbo. Bad has Skeppy. Everyone has someone there for them, physically and emotionally, and I'm so fucking alone. I live alone, I sleep alone, I eat alone, I do everything by myself and I just- I-" George gave up trying to talk through the lump in his throat, giving in to the sobs that wracked through him in harsh waves.

"You're not alone. Shh, hey. You're not alone, baby, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

George knew Dream was trying to comfort him, but it felt like everything George just said must've gone in one ear and out the other.

"But you're not! You're not here, Dream. I'm alone! I can stay in a call with you for two days at a time, I can put my phone on the pillow next to me in bed, but that's not the same as you being here. I need you- I need someone here," George broke down, clutching his phone to his chest when his cries turned into a mix between hyperventilating and hiccups- a terrible and borderline painful combination.

He could hear Dream continuing to hush him and coo words of comfort, but George was too far gone for those now. George cried until exhaustion pushed him to let go of reality for a bit. Regardless of whether or not he'd just woken up, crying took everything he had out of him, and he was down for the count.

Like usual, when a few hours passed and George was awake again, Dream didn't mention his emotional outburst from before. They talked about nothing, Dream shared his screen so they could watch Breaking Bad together, and an hour after he woke up, Dream had pizza delivered to George’s door.

Laying in bed, eating greasy pizza, and listening to all the dumb jokes Dream made just to get a tiny laugh out of him- it made George think about how much better the experience would be if they could do it together, in person.

George didn't want to pause the show every few minutes when one of their WiFi would act up, he wanted to hit Dream with a pillow until he paused the show, so George could get up to pee. He didn't want to base his assumptions of how Dream was enjoying their show on how loud of a breath he'd let out through his nose. George wanted to be able to look over and see the smile on Dream's face at all the funniest scenes.

Then again, George was fairly certain that if he got a taste of what it would be like to be real in person friends with Dream, he probably would never be able to go back to being long-distance internet friends with him.

That unfortunate realization was what made George finally acknowledge the feeling he'd been suppressing for weeks- maybe even months.

He didn't want to visit America. George wanted to move to America.

He wanted to live with Dream and Sapnap. He didn't care if that meant sharing one house, or buying three houses that were all next to each other. As long as they were all together, George would be happy. Honestly, George was starting to think that was the only thing capable of making him happy.

The call where he shared the news was both good and bad. Dream and Sapnap readily agreed, saying they also would love to have George live with them. In hindsight, George wished maybe they weren't so eager, because then they wouldn't have ended up in a Google deep dive on how to get a visa. Not only were things overwhelming already, but then they stumbled upon something that made George's heart drop.

"During the time between filing your application and receiving your decision letter, it's best practice to not travel to the country you're- wait, what?" Dream paused, going back and rereading the sentence a few more times in an incoherent mumble under his breath.

"What's that mean? George can't visit America or it'll make his visa application look bad?" Sapnap asked, getting no response from George and more mumbled nonsense from Dream.

It was one thing for Dream and George to agree that seeing each other and then having to say goodbye would be too hard- that they should just wait until things could be permanent- but having the choice taken away from them… that broke him.

George had already spent far too many nights looking at plane tickets, even going as far as buying one once, only to find himself sobbing in an airport before booking an Uber back to his flat. To know that in a state of pure desperation, he would be potentially fucking up the rest of his life by taking a plane to spend even one night in his best friend's arms- in what's supposed to be their home- made George teeter a bit closer to panic.

"We'll get your application in as soon as possible, George. It'll probably only take a few months- look! Here, it says it's an average of four to six months, but you can pay a fee for it to be processed faster. See? It's okay George, you'll be here soon."

Soon.

'Soon' was turning into George's least favorite word. It seemed like every time someone told George he'd be in America 'soon', it became that much further away. To make matters worse, Dream got a little over excited and mentioned the plan on stream, meaning now George's notifications were flooded (more than they already were) with questions of if his visa had been approved, theories that he was already in Florida, and the general inquiries about when he'd start posting content again. The more George saw everyone talking about it, the more it felt like another intangible thing, like there was no way he'd ever really get to Florida.

Come December, George had to deliver the very depressing and very unwanted news that 'Dream Team Christmas' would not be happening that year, since he still had heard nothing about his visa. As a means to distract himself, and hopefully give his audience something else to focus on, George made it his goal to stream as much as possible and hit ten million subscribers on YouTube by the end of the year. Maybe Dream had a bit of influence in it, and maybe that act was done out of a bit of guilt, but George hit his goal with a few thousand to spare.

With a hope for good news in the new year, George even got around to filming a little bit of content for his OnlyFans.

It was a bit pathetic the way George's heart sank at the sight of all the lingerie and toys gifted to him specifically from Clay. He pushed those thoughts aside, reminding himself that this was all according to plan.

George grabbed his red lingerie set with white detailing from the previous year, pairing it with a butt plug that had a red gemstone on the base, as well as a few different dildo options. The lingerie fit more loosely on him now than the prior year, no doubt a reflection of how poorly he'd been taking care of himself. George nearly gave up then, realizing that his body now and his body in the backlog of videos he'd been uploading, looked quite different. If this were YouTube or Twitch, George could assume the audience would be respectful enough to not make comments about his body. But this wasn't YouTube or Twitch, it was OnlyFans, where his body was the entire focal point.

Deciding to persevere and keep his momentum going, George bit the bullet and committed to filming the video anyway. His account had tapered off greatly in the last year, considering he was uploading once, maybe twice a month- and that was only if he was uploading something for followers and subscribers. George decided this video would be for everyone, hopefully getting a little more traction to his channel, and inspire him to start recording content again.

He had the camera and soft lighting set up, a string of rainbow Christmas lights lying in a wadded-up pile in the middle of the bed, and his toys laid out.

He also had Dream calling him for a third time.

"It's Christmas Eve, Dream. Don't you have people you should be with right now?" George groaned, tossing his phone onto his bed after putting Dream on speaker.

"Hi," Dream answered awfully softly, not acknowledging George's snarky greeting at all.

"Dream?" George questioned, turning up the volume. Once he was closer to his phone, he heard it.

Dream was crying.

"Don't tell me you're crying because I'm not there for Christmas." George shook his head, even though Dream couldn't see it. George hated to be dismissive of Dream, especially when Dream had been more than patient and understanding with his feelings, but that would make this a recipe for disaster. If Dream was crying, if he started talking about how unfair it was that George couldn't be with him for Christmas, well, George would end up a blubbering mess alongside him.

It'd taken him an hour already to set up and hype himself up for the challenge of recording a new OnlyFans video, so stopping now to cry with Dream would be a waste of everyone's time.

"I just miss you. How is that even possible? I miss- I miss hugging you, but I've never touched you before," Dream continued, despite George's warning.

"I don't know how that's possible." George sat on his bed, flicking at the tangled lights. "But I miss hugging you too."

Dream let out more quiet sobs, and George let him cry in peace. He wasn't quite ready to film anyway- the Christmas lights still needing to be set up around the bed frame- so he could sit with Dream and continue getting ready to film.

"It's not fair," Dream murmured, just barely audible enough for it to register in George's mind.

"We can't go to the it's not fair place, Dream." George sighed while rubbing his forehead harshly. Thank god he didn't put his face in his videos, since he probably looked as shitty as he felt.

"Can I… I know it's not fair to ask, since I can't really reciprocate or whatever, but can I see you? I just, I don't know, seeing your face always makes me smile and I could really use that right about now," Dream requested pitifully, stopping to sniffle and clear his throat.

"Yeah, that's-" George cut himself off, looking down at his current choice of clothes- or lack thereof. "Actually, uh, how about a picture? There's this, um, super funny screenshot from my hardcore world stream where-"

"Aren't you sitting at your computer? Why can't you just turn on your camera?" Dream asked, clearly confused by George's sudden shift.

If it were any other day George was filming for his OnlyFans, throwing on a T-shirt and stepping out of his filming room would be all it'd take to have a one-sided FaceTime with Dream. Now, though, George was in a red corset, which had already taken him three tries to tie up, and it had fluffy white sleeves, which would not be easily hidden with a T-shirt.

"I'm actually on my phone," George deflected.

"So that should be even easier," Dream added, still sounding rather confused. "Look, George, if you don't want to video chat since I won't be showing my face… I- I get it, okay? You don't need to, like, make yourself uncomfortable or-"

"Just give me a second, I'm… I'm in the bathroom, that's all." George silently screamed, hitting his forehead against his fist a few times. Thankfully, Dream found him endearing, and let out a chuckle under his breath.

"You're so gross, George," he laughed a little lighter. "Hurry up, though. I wanna see you."

George was scrambling to find a big enough hoodie to cover the puffy sleeves without looking too awkward, quickly settling on his oversized smile hoodie. In the midst of throwing it over his head, he must've misheard whatever Dream was trying to say, because he only heard something that sounded like 'miss your face'.

"Okay, I'm switching to my computer now. I'll see you, or I guess you'll see me in just a sec." George hung up before Dream answered, sitting down in his computer chair. The fake leather was cold against his bare bottom, since he didn't bother to find sweatpants in his haste. Plus, the hoodie was big enough to cover everything, so it wasn't like it mattered anyway.

"Hi." George let out a breath, smiling at the small icon of a drawn, sleeping version of Dream. The ring around the icon lit up a couple times, picking up feedback from Dream's mic, before he actually heard the other say anything.

"Are you feeling okay? You're very… pink."

George scoffed and rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. Not that he could really explain that he just had quite the impromptu workout from trying to cover himself up in a reasonable amount of time.

"Merry Christmas Eve, day that Mary went into labor with Jesus or whatever- to you too." George leaned back in his chair, only to have his eyes immediately be drawn to the shadow of colorful lights glowing through the open doorway to his spare room.

"Oh, do you have a Christmas tree this year?" Dream asked, also picking up on the shift in lighting, now that George's head wasn't blocking the frame.

"Nope, uh, one sec." George hopped out of his chair, rushing to the room to close the door. As soon as he turned around, he heard Dream giggling, and he knew he fucked up.

"Don't say-"

"Where are your pants?" Dream interrupted, saying the thing George was just about to tell him not to say.

"It's hot, Dream. My building is old and uses radiators for heating, so it's always a bajillion degrees in my flat. That's why I'm pink and that's why I don't have pants on," George answered through a groan. He couldn't be too upset about the mild embarrassment, since at least if Dream was laughing at how he looked, he wasn't crying about not being there with him.

"Was that… do you have a birthmark on the back of your thigh?" Dream asked after coming down from his laughter.

"Dream!" George exclaimed, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Are you saying in the two seconds I was up to shut the door you, what, checked me out?" he deflected.

"Okay, I wasn't- well, I guess I- alright, in my defense, you have nice legs," Dream stumbled through his explanation, giggling between his stutters.

Curse George's body and his stupid praise kink and his stupid ability to turn any compliment from a man into something that turns him on.

"Shut-"

"And, uh… are your legs shaved?" Dream added on, much to George's horror.

"No," George deadpanned, crossing his arms. It truly wasn't fair that his camera was on, but Dream was able to hide behind a screen. Plus, technically he wasn't lying. George waxed, not shaved. "I'm using a webcam, so the quality is just ass. That's why you couldn't see my leg hair."

"Yeah, why are you using a shitty webcam anyway?"

"My camera is," currently set up in my filming room, because I was about to tie myself up with Christmas lights and come with a butt plug up my ass, "broken." George answered, giving up any moral standards he had about lying at a time like this.

"Broken? But you just bought it, like, not even a month ago."

Well, he got George there.

"Uh, did I say broken? I meant… battery! Yeah, the battery is dead," George said with a smile and shrug, praying Dream would lighten up on the interrogation.

"Then why is-"

"Oh my god! Why are we playing twenty questions right now?" George interrupted, not sure how many more answers he could pull out of his ass on the fly.

"We're not, sorry," Dream trailed off, the glowing green ring around his icon disappearing for a minute, leaving George with nothing better to do than stare at himself in his monitor.

"Can I just ask one last thing? It's not even really a new question," Dream requested, his voice awfully quiet.

"Okay, but after that, I really do have to go. I'm, uh, I was wrapping gifts before you called." George used his thumb to point over his shoulder at the door he closed when their call first started.

"I thought you were in the bath-"

"Dream." George narrowed his gaze, which effectively got Dream to stop his current line of questioning.

"Do you have a birthmark on the back of your thigh?" Dream asked, making George realize he never had answered before.

"I don't know- why would I think to look there?" George mumbled, standing up out of his own curiosity. He checked the back of his right thigh first, only to be met with nothing but the expanse of pale flesh, uninterrupted by a single freckle or mole. He looked at his left leg next, thinking it was the same fate at first, but with an extra twist- and the hint of a sharp inhale from Dream- George saw the mark he was talking about. Just below the crest where his ass met his thigh, there was a quarter-sized mark, light brown in color, and slightly ovular. If George actually went out in the sun, it probably wouldn't have been noticeable, but alas, his skin hadn't seen the sun in too many months to count.

"You… you do," Dream whispered.

"This is awfully close to my ass for you to have noticed that, Dream. How hard did you check me out before that you saw this, like, damn?" George teased with a laugh, plopping back down in his chair.

"I wasn't! It just-"

"Yeah, yeah. It's just me here, Dream. No one to pander to," George laughed, feeling a bit better about the situation now that Dream was sounding more like his usual, dumb self. "I do have to go though, but I'll call you back once I'm done, so we can go to sleep. Sound good?" George asked, smiling and tilting his head to the side.

Dream hesitated, which was unlike him, but then again the weather was a bit iffy, so George's WiFi may have cut out for a second or two.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'll uh, I'll talk to you soon. Love you, George."

"Gross- talk later." George grimaced before smiling, ending the call before Dream could add anything further.

George peeled off the hoodie as soon as he was free from Dream's- apparently very watchful- gaze. Instead of throwing it to the floor like he usually would, George laid it out on his bed, knowing it was going to be the kind of night that he gravitated towards it anyway.

Maybe it was George's perpetual loneliness infecting every corner of his life, but these days he couldn't even masturbate without feeling sad afterwards. Sometimes cuddling up in one of his oversized hoodies, imagining it belonged to someone with strong arms that would hold him close, helped keep the 'cry on the kitchen floor until falling asleep' thoughts away.

"I've got this," George whispered under his breath to himself, walking back into his filming room. The rainbow Christmas lights strung up around his bed made for a pretty backdrop and the string of white lights he was going to tie around himself were in a neat pile in the center of his bed.

George pressed record on his camera, figuring a little more editing would be easier than trying to get up after he was tied up. He wanted to make the lights tight enough that he could genuinely struggle in them, but still loose enough that he could get out when he really needed to, which was going to be very important, considering the goal of this video.

Overstimulation.

"Merry Christmas or whatever," George chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back facing the camera and the string lights wrapped tightly enough to bind his arms flush against him. "I'll let you decide if I've been naughty or nice this year- if this is a reward or a punishment."

Carefully, George crawled forward, unblocking the rest of the frame, revealing the number of toys and lube he had laid out on his bed- everything from dildos, to vibrators, to plugs, to cock rings.

"God, I wish someone were here to just fuck me," George mumbled under his breath, wondering if he'd end up editing it out or not. It could definitely be a sexy thing to say, but George's general apathy sort of took the sex appeal out of the sentiment.

"How many times do you think I can come without stopping? I'm positive I can go two rounds, but I kind of want to try for three." George smiled, even with his face out of frame, starting to feel like his old self again, little by little. "I definitely could if you were here, but maybe just knowing you're watching will get me there."

George propped himself up on his knees and straddled a dildo he had already lubed up before he wrapped the lights around himself. The lube had cooled, making him shudder when he first leaned down and let the toy slide between his cheeks. He couldn't help but let out a small whine, grinding against the toy harder to warm the lube, getting both aroused and frustrated at the same time.

"Wish this were you instead," George spoke softly through a gasp, sinking down on the toy, losing himself in the way it stretched him. George was sitting on his knees with his feet together beneath him, holding the base of the dildo in place.

This wasn't intended to be anything more than a warm up- essentially his prep, seeing that the dildo was one of his smaller ones anyway. Consider George hadn't really been up for doing anything, let alone fucking himself, he was far more sensitive than he anticipated he'd be.

"Shit, this is actually- fuck, fuck this is good." George sat all the way down, rolling his hips, desperately trying to get the dildo to press against his prostate. A jolt of pleasure ran up and down the course of his entire body when he finally got the toy at the right angle.

"Please, oh please-" George writhed in the string lights, desperate to fuck himself with the toy faster- harder. The tightness of the lights around him almost felt like someone wrapping their arms around him, using his body to chase their own pleasure, not letting George run the show.

The thought of big arms holding him securely and the sweat trickling down his back belonging to someone else was what pushed George to his first orgasm.

Thankfully, by the time George was coming down from his high, he'd loosened the restraints enough to grab his vibrating butt plug- a newer version of the one that started this whole endeavor.

The main difference between this one and his first one was that this was sent to him as a gift from Clay.

George didn't know how he felt about the way that turned him on even more.

Brushing off the thought, George turned it on to the lowest vibration setting. He'd been rocking slowly on the dildo he just came on, already feeling a tight coil tightening in his lower stomach. As soon as George pulled off the toy, whimpering at the way the head caught on his sensitive rim, he wasted no time in putting the plug in its place.

"Fuck- nngh," George moaned, burying his face into his pillow and arching his ass up. His whole body was shaking, like the vibration of the plug was reverberating throughout his entire body. His dick, still hard from his first orgasm, seeing that he didn't give it a chance to go down, was dripping strings of precum onto his bedding from where it hung between his legs.

"Ahh, uh-uh huh," George groaned when he clenched around the toy, nearly coming right then and there.

George started rocking back and forth, finding his orgasm building up quicker now.

"'M so close- so close," he murmured through his open-mouth panting breaths. "Come- coming, fuck, fuck, fuck- please!" George pushed himself further, nearing tears when he came even harder the second time around.

The coil in his stomach was tightening to an uncomfortable degree, but George wasn't ready to let his endorphin rush end yet, so he did what any idiot would do.

He cranked up the speed of the vibrator.

"Oh my fuck-" George wanted to scream. It was amazing, it was torture, it was so much further than he'd ever pushed his body before.

With the hand he'd somehow gotten half-stuck behind his back, George held onto the lights with a death grip, using the slight burn of the hot bulbs against his palm to ground himself through the overstimulation.

He began squirming, letting out real tears the camera couldn't see. All his wiggling caused the plug to press against his prostate at an ungodly frequency, making George fall limp against the bed. The feeling of the blanket against his dick was heaven and hell, the friction providing relief, while simultaneously making him almost sick to his stomach.

George hissed in a breath, unsure if his phone lighting up on his bedside table and stealing his attention would help distract him from the pain or steal away the pleasure.

Then George realized it was Dream calling him.

Then George's imagination ran fucking wild.

Sure, George didn't know what Dream looked like, but he had bits and pieces of information. Dream was around 190cm, meaning he would tower over George, who was 174cm on a good day. He also knew Dream was broad, his chest alone enough to completely surround George and make him invisible from someone standing behind Dream. Oh god- his hands. They were big, they had thick veins, and they would look fucking amazing around George's waist.

It was like George could feel Dream fucking him, holding him down, using George's hole to chase his own pleasure after making George come twice already. Each feeble grind against the bedding felt more and more like the force of Dream thrusting inside of him.

George should fuck himself to this point of overstimulation more often, since his brain was firing a million neurons a second and couldn't seem to differentiate between what was real and imaginary at that point.

With a series of sounds that may have been pushing crude over lewd, George came with his dick pinned underneath him, soaking his stomach in a pathetic amount of fresh cum. There was still cum leaking out of him when George scrambled for the remote, turning off the vibrator- finally- and let himself take a second to actually breathe.

"Oh my fucking god," George muttered under his breath, rolling onto his back, and draped an arm over his eyes. "I didn't- fuck- I didn't actually think I could do that," George admitted with a small laugh.

His laugh was cut short when he actually put together what made him come that third time…

Dream.

George tensed, yelping from shock and pain when the plug shifted inside of him, no longer vibrating, but still dangerously close to his abused prostate. Carefully, George moved in small adjustments until his other arm was free, reaching between his legs to take out the plug. He whimpered, wishing for a multitude of reasons that he didn't actually reach a third orgasm, but mainly because of how sad and empty he felt now. Any other time he got that feeling, he'd always give himself a little more time with a plug inside him, but that unfortunately wasn't an option anymore.

"I need, god- I don't know what I need… Jesus, probably." George gave up on covering his face, figuring that nothing beyond his very unsexy yelp was going to make it into the final cut anyway.

Slowly and more painful than he would've liked, George dragged himself to the edge of the bed, reaching over and ending the recording. With the camera officially off, George let out a guttural sounding groan, truly basking in the mortification he felt about coming to the thought of his best friend.

"I really do need Jesus," George muttered to himself, grimacing at the soaked material of the corset- a mixture of come and sweat.

To make matters worse, Dream was calling him. Again.

George didn't answer with a 'hello' or a 'how are you?' or even a 'stop calling when I'm fucking myself, because then I come thinking about you fucking me instead'- no, George answered with a series of displeased groans.

"Why didn't you answer before?" Dream asked right off the bat, also not shying away from the idea of skipping the pleasantries.

"Was doin' stuff," George mumbled, rolling his eyes before letting them shut when he heard Dream scoff.

"I don't care."

George furrowed his brow, slowly lifting his head off the pillow to look at his phone, as if Dream would be able to feel his glare through electronic waves sent over an ocean.

"You don't care?" George repeated back, propping himself up on his elbows so he could stare at his phone, which was laying on his chest.

"No. Answer the phone when I call you."

Oh, that… that wasn't good.

And by not good, George meant too good. His body was exhausted, his dick ached when it twitched with interest at the stern tone, and there was also the fact this was Dream.

"Why are you talking like that?" George asked, deflecting away from how Dream's words were affecting him and focusing instead on the man himself.

"Talking like what?" he asked back, leaving George rolling his eyes yet again.

"You sound," hot, hot, so fucking hot. It makes me feel dizzy from bouncing between wanting to obey and earn praise, or talking back and accepting whatever punishment you see fit, "weird."

"I'm not- look, you said you'd call me back forever ago, but you didn't. So, when I called you to make sure you didn't fall asleep without me, and you didn't pick up- yeah- maybe I got a little upset, since I thought that meant I was right."

George had never felt more relieved to receive a guilt trip before, seeing that at the very least it killed whatever mediocre attempt at getting a boner his body was trying to accomplish.

"Dream, Dream, Dream," George sighed, sitting up with a painful groan, his entire body growing sore. "I told you I was doing Christmas stuff or whatever. I didn't call you yet, because I still need to shower before I can go to bed- not because I fell asleep."

"Well, you took too long," Dream grumbled. George couldn't help but smile, thinking about the fact it wasn't even seven o'clock for Dream, yet he was whining like an overtired toddler, because somehow they'd synchronized to a somewhat-normal sleep schedule for a person living in London.

"Hate to break it to you, but I don't think you're going to like any of your options. Either I hang up now and call you when I'm done showering, or we stay on the phone while I shower, which you hate-"

"I hate that," Dream interrupted, speaking in sync with George. Shockingly enough, neither of them bothered to make an 'in sync, bb' joke. "Third option, you skip the shower and we sleep now. I mean, you rarely take showers anyway, what's one more day?"

George probably shouldn't have laughed at the joke made at his expense, but Dream had a good point. At least, he would any other day.

"Yeah, not an option today. I, like, literally need to shower. I'm so fucking disgusting," George groaned, accidentally resting his hand in some of his cooled cum. With great effort, George pushed himself into a seated position and began the tedious process of undoing his corset.

Dream ended up mumbling something under his breath, but George ignored his complaints. Trust him- if he could go to bed without a shower, he would. But the cum-soaked corset clinging to him was potentially a more disgusting feeling than waking up with kitchen floor-grime all over him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dream asked, clearly trying to sound snarky, but coming off rather pitiful. George wanted to be done with his shower just as much- if not more- than Dream did.

"I can't get this stupid fucking thing untied," George whined, letting his tired arms fall limp at his sides.

"Get what, exactly, untied?"

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

"My, uh, my- you know," George sprung up straight, a wave of adrenaline making its way through his body, like he'd been shocked with a defibrillator. "My drawstring! Like, the uh, the one on my sweatpants- it's all knotted up."

"I thought you weren't wearing pants- you said your apartment was super hot, because of the radiators or something."

Fucking Christ, does nothing get passed this idiot?

"Well, I got cold. That's the other thing about radiators, Dream. They, like, spam your room with heat, then turn off until there's frost on the windows. Do you even have frost in Florida, or is that a foreign concept to you?" George explained, hoping to come off as condescending and not lying through his teeth.

"What about-"

"Why are you being so, I don't know, accusatory and shit? Like, you're interrogating me, idiot," George cut him off. Any frustration George had misplaced onto Dream melted away the second he undid the knot that was stuck on his corset, finally allowing him to take in an unrestricted breath of air.

"We," Dream said softly with no further context.

"We? Like oui, oui? Are you saying yes, yes you're an idiot?" George laughed, walking across his flat naked and with maybe a slight limp.

"No-" Dream also laughed, clearly endeared by George's ability to make a joke out of anything. "We as in do we even have frost in Florida- not just me. Florida is your home too."

George regretted answering Dream's call at all now.

"Right," he answered under his breath, flinching at the sharp squeal of the shower stream starting up.

"Ugh, I hate that sound. I promise you, it's gotta be a million times worse over the phone than-"

George zoned out, putting his microphone on mute, while Dream rambled away. The water was hot, honestly a bit too hot for George's liking, but he was paralyzed on the shower floor and couldn't adjust the temperature if he tried.

Sure, was having a slight mental crisis after fantasizing about your best friend until you had your third consecutive orgasm a great thing to be fixated on? Not at all. But, it was better than the alternative- the thing George hadn't been able to get off his mind for the last year.

Florida.

His home away from home. His hiraeth- or whatever that word was that people used on tumblr to describe 'a feeling of homesickness for a place you've never been.’

Now that he was thinking about it, maybe hiraeth wasn't such a stupid word after all. That was essentially what he and Dream admitted to feeling earlier that night- missing the feeling of hugging each other, even though they'd never touched.

"Hey."

There must've been a long break of silence, because George's skin had adjusted to the water temperature and he actually noticed Dream saying a singular word.

"Hi," George answered after unmuting. His phone, which had been balanced on the tub wall, was now covered in small water droplets from the mist off the shower stream.

"You're still," Dream paused, apparently thinking better of whatever he was going to say. "You should get out of the shower. It's been twenty minutes, George."

"Oh," George mumbled, wiping off his phone screen to check the time.

00:07

"Merry Christmas," he said at an equally quiet volume. George muted his mic again, rushing to lather his loofah with body wash. He could take a more in-depth shower tomorrow (or the next day, if we're being realistic), so a quick soapy rinse would be enough for him tonight.

"We're going to have a belated Christmas as soon as you get here. I already bought you a bunch of gifts anyway, and I'm not going to deal with the hassle of shipping them."

George shook his head, but a smile creeped its way onto his lips nonetheless. Maybe there would still be snow on the ground- in London, at least- by the time he left for America, so it'd still feel a tiny bit like Christmas.

"My, uh, my mom also may have already wrapped them, too. So, I guess they'll just stay here, chilling in your room until you get here," Dream continued, essentially just talking to fill the silence.

"They'll be, like, welcome home gifts." George unmuted once he'd rinsed off the final suds.

"I might've already bought you some of those too…"

George laughed under his breath, but his skin was beginning to feel hotter than it had in the shower, despite the room clearing of steam. With a little bit of time to regain its strength, George's dick jumped at the mention of gifts… from a man… who he'd just came thinking about not even an hour prior.

Really, it wasn't George's fault. He never used to be like this until-

"Oh." George froze in the middle of drying himself off with a towel, his reflection slowly becoming clear in the foggy mirror.

"You say something, Georgie?" Dream asked, but his voice felt far away.

Everything made sense now.

"Clay."

And it all comes back to fucking ClayBalls. Clay had been on George's mind ever since he decided to use the vibrating plug he'd bought for him in his video. It wasn't actually Dream turning him on, it was all just a byproduct of George still being hung up on Clay. The size difference, the stern tone, the mentions of gifts- those were all things about Clay that George had learned to strongly associate with sex, and he had simply projected them onto Dream.

"Y-uh, yes? George?" Dream stuttered, coughing as soon as he tried to speak.

"Oh! Not y- I mean, what? Can't I call you Clay? You let Sapnap call you Clay, don’t you?" George deflected, saving himself at the last second. Imagine if he finished that sentence- not you Clay. Clay as in ClayBalls, like, the guy who was my OnlyFans top subscriber, tipper, and gift giver for an entire year. Oh, did I never mention him?

"I mean, you can, like, technically."

"Technically?" George repeated back to him, finding a little more humor in the whole situation now that he'd cracked the code to his third orgasm-induced fantasies.

"Yeah, technically. But, um, it's probably best if you just call me Dream. Like, it's bad enough when Nick calls me Clay on stream, since I don't want the fans doing that shit. So, like, calling me Dream off stream is, uh, practice or-"

"Chill, Dream. I'm just fucking with you. I like calling you Dream," George cut Dream's tangent short, much to Dream's relief. He let out an audible sigh, followed by a chuckle.

George dropped his towel on the floor, slipping back into the oversized smile hoodie he'd worn on call with Dream. The sweater was soft, still holding onto the fuzzy inner lining, considering George had scarcely worn or washed it since Dream sent it to him in the mail. It was soft, but it wasn't exactly cozy. George wanted to feel cozy.

"Damn, I need a boyfriend," George mumbled, more to himself than to Dream.

"What?" Dream asked through another cough. Either he was getting sick, or George was really throwing him for a constant loop. Honestly, it was fifty-fifty either way.

"What?" George repeated.

"Just, I don't know- you've never mentioned wanting to be in a relationship before. Like, if anything, it's been the opposite," Dream explained, and after hearing what he had to say, George realized 'I need a boyfriend' probably wasn't the right wording.

"Okay, that- I mean," George paused, crawling under his covers and setting his phone on his spare pillow the way he always did before bed. "I was, like, in the middle of a bunch of different converging thoughts in my head when I said that- if that makes sense."

"Yeah, no."

George groaned, plugging in his phone before answering, hating the idea of waking up to a dropped call, because his phone ran out of battery in the middle of the night.

"So, I'm wearing my smile hoodie again and it's, like, it's still new. The reason I got it a few sizes up is because I like when things are big on me. Not just because, like, it's more comfortable, but I don't know- I'm alone, Dream, we've been over this," George paused, covering his face when the embarrassment became too much and he'd yet to even really explain his point.

"Was I supposed to understand what that means?" Dream asked, sounding far too genuinely confused for George's liking.

"I guess what I'm saying is that I like to pretend it's not mine, you know? Like, the hoodie is so big on me because it's my make-believe boyfriend's or whatever," George begrudgingly admitted. "But those hoodies- boyfriend hoodies- aren't new. Like, half the appeal of them is that they're already worn in and they smell like them. This hoodie is still pretty much unworn and smells like, I don't know, my closet."

"Oh, you don't actually want a boyfriend, you just want someone's hoodie to steal?" Dream simplified his response. In a way, it was the more concise version of what George was trying to say, but if that was all Dream took away from it, then the real point was completely lost on him.

George not only wanted the hoodie itself, but he wanted the feeling that came with it. The familiar smell, knowing it's lived-in texture was created through years of wearing and washing by the person he loves, the fact it's like wearing a hug from his boyfriend. George wasn't saying he wanted any old, ratty hoodie- he wanted a boyfriend's old, ratty hoodie.

"Yeah, I guess." George was tired, it was late, and sometimes he had to know when to pick his battles. This battle- the significance of a boyfriend hoodie battle- was not a hill George was going to die on at a quarter after midnight on Christmas morning.

"Go to a thrift store or something then, you weirdo," Dream chuckled.

Yeah, he didn't understand.

"Hmm, maybe." George closed his eyes, getting lost in irrelevant thoughts about how many boyfriend hoodies were in second hand clothes stores. How many hangers were carrying the weight of a jumper that once brought someone the most comfort and security they'd ever felt?

"Merry Christmas, George."

"Nuh-uh," George grumbled, rolling away from his phone. "You know the rules, Dr'm. Can't say it ‘til it's in your time zone."

"Can't wait 'til that means we can say it at the same time." Dream yawned, also falling into their nightly routine, which had been going strong for a few weeks now. Some people had Snapchat streaks, Dream and George had a 'sleep together on call' streak.

"Go to sleep, idiot."

"But I mean it. I really, really mean it, George," Dream continued, despite George's silent protest. He wasn't calling Dream an idiot because he thought he was lying- he was calling Dream an idiot because he was an idiot if he planned on making George cry about their situation again.

Obviously George wanted to say it at the same time, to be in the same time zone, to live in the house his name was on the mortgage papers for. George just didn't see the point in talking about painful things when there was nothing more in their control at the moment. If he couldn't actually have what he wanted, Dream should at least allow him the courtesy of delusion.

"I know, Dreamie." George bit his lip, focusing on the slight pain to distract his mind from the tight feeling in his throat.

"I like it when you call me that." Dream let out a pleased hum, like he was not only clearly oblivious to George's internal struggle, but he was also half asleep.

"Goodnight."

"Night, baby," Dream mumbled, sounding like his face was squished into a pillow and the Poly-fil stuffing was absorbing most of his voice.

George let the call fall silent after that, briefly entertaining the thought that Dream had been calling him baby a lot more in recent months. He wasn't sure if that was Dream's way of comforting George or himself. On the off chance it was Dream's attempt at comforting George and he was using it that often, George must've been quite the burden.

Even though he didn’t have the best track record with New Year's resolutions, George decided to make one for 2022.

He would be better- for Dream, for his fans, for himself. He'd be a better friend, he'd be a better creator, and he'd be better at taking care of himself (even if that meant no more depression naps on his kitchen floor).

Chapter Text

George should stop making New Year's resolutions.

Much like the start to his 2021, George found himself inconsolable, crying on the floor, and facing the worst heartbreak of his twenty-six years (and also a potential noise complaint from his neighbors, who were surely tired of his incessant crying). The main difference between how George wrung in this New Year's compared to the last was he was alone, like, truly alone.

Dream wasn't on a call with him that was forty-eight plus hours and counting. In fact, George hadn't spoken to Dream in just over four days. George's best guess was that this was the longest they'd gone without speaking since they became friends.

Granted, it wasn't just Dream's calls and texts that George was dodging- it was everyone's. Dream, Sapnap, his mum, his sister- hell, even his somewhat estranged father had reached out to him oddly enough.

Odd, because George hadn't given a single soul an explanation for his sudden disappearance- emotional, not physical, seeing that George was in the same place he always was… his stupid little flat.

The terrible, awful, leaky-ceiling-having, musty-smelling, shithole of a flat that George had been caged in for the last two years.

And it looked like it could very well be many more years to come.

George's visa was denied.

He didn't believe it at first, genuinely thinking it had to have been some scam mail fishing for his National Insurance number. Just to make sure he could put to rest any lingering worried thoughts, George scoured the internet for images of what O1 visa rejection letters looked like.

They all looked like the one he was holding.

Inadequate evidence proving extraordinary ability or achievement.

Crush a man's hopes and dreams, sure- but to say he was nothing more than your average schmuck in the process? That was just kind of low. Like, damn- did he need a letter from President Joe Biden vouching for him to get into the country?

Petty little thoughts aside, George had never felt a chill spread through his body to that magnitude before. He'd faced hardships and had his fair share of emotional damage dealt his way, but nothing compared to the all encompassing feeling of dread that pinned him to his bathroom floor.

Oh, that was another difference between the start of 2021 and 2022. This year, George had cried so much and so hard that he'd made himself physically ill- literally throwing up over the turmoil he felt, like he could somehow expel the reality out of his body alongside the prior night's leftovers. Once George found himself on his bathroom floor on the night of January fifth, he just… never got up. It was either the ninth or the tenth now- not that days mattered anymore, not that anything mattered anymore. George could lay there until he fused with the floor and the flat would never be rented out again because of the haunting feeling the spare bathroom gave all the potential future tenants.

George was pretty sure his phone died two, maybe even three days ago, but charging it meant getting up, and he wasn't ready for all that yet. Unfortunately, his PC didn't die, which meant he still heard every Discord message, TeamSpeak call, and hell- someone even tried to call him on Skype once. Similarly to why George's phone was lying somewhere on the floor with a black screen, George couldn't turn off his computer, because that meant getting off the floor.

Maybe it was from the pounding headache he'd had for at least one rotation of the Earth spinning on its axis- undoubtedly caused by the fact he hadn't had any food in days and the last time he drank water was more so just him swishing some around in his mouth after an especially vile round of vomiting- but when George's computer rang through a Discord call for the seventh time in a row, only to start again for an eighth, he couldn't listen to the noise for another second.

Flashes of white in his vision and wobbly legs aside, George marched to his computer and collapsed into his chair.

You'd think after days of nonstop crying, his tear ducts would've dried up by now, but just seeing Dream's stupid little contact photo flashing on his screen had a fresh wave brewing.

"George? George, are you- can you hear me? Are you there?"

When George's bottom lip started to quiver, he held it between his teeth. His attempt at stopping the shake was in vain, since that quiver traveled down the rest of his body, until he was fully trembling in his seat.

"Dr-" George instantly started coughing, not having used his voice in longer than he would've previously thought imaginable. The coughs wracked through his entire body, pushing out the tears more forcefully when he squinted his eyes shut, and he winced at the pain it caused to his sore throat.

"George, oh my god you're- you're okay! I mean, I shouldn't say you're- I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, George. You're alive. Are you- are you sick? Is that what's going on?"

It was clear Dream couldn't tell if he should be relieved or even more concerned. George had half a mind to argue, to say that he wasn't alive, that he arguably wasn't even just surviving- or whatever people say. He'd hardly call his sad- 'inadequate extraordinary-ness', as the government would say- existence anything resembling being alive.

"Are you crying?"

He was crying, but he was also still coughing, and now- because maybe the world stopped making sense on day two or three- he was laughing.

"Yeah," George answered, struggling to catch his breath, finding himself genuinely winded from the… everything his body just went through.

"Why? What's wrong? Where have you been?" Dream was nearly begging, and if George didn't know Dream's voice so well, he probably wouldn't have noticed the slight gravelly undertones that it only had when Dream had gone far too long without sleep.

"I, um-" George's voice instantly began to shake and tears rolled down his cheeks faster than he was capable of wiping them away.

"I love you, George. Please- please just fucking talk to me. I-I've been going insane since you disappeared! Like, I called everyone in your family to see if they'd heard from you, and when no one had- fuck- I was thinking the absolute worst, George."

George knew Dream's intention wasn't to guilt him. Honestly, it was actually kind of impressive how his body was still able to make room for more pain in his chest.

He had no visa and he nearly worried Dream to death.

Happy 2022.

"I love you too, Dream," George whispered, his voice thick and wavering.

"Don't- now I… what the fuck is going on that's so bad that I didn't even have to fight that 'I love you' out of you? Tell me what's wrong, George- baby, please."

My visa was denied.

I can't move to America.

I can't go home.

I can't be with you.

He wanted- arguably needed- to tell Dream what was going on, but George had yet to once speak the words out loud since that god-awful letter arrived. It wasn't one of those 'once it's said out loud, then it's real' situations. It was more like any time George had tried to say it, all that came out was another sob.

There were symphonies of coos and hushes coming through his computer speakers, Dream's feeble attempt at soothing him. George wished it wasn't working as well as it did, seeing that being able to talk meant being able to explain.

"It didn't- I can't…" George trailed off, letting out another cough that made his throat sting. "They said no, Dream."

"What? Who's they? What did they say no to?"

George groaned, because clearly Dream was too frazzled to use his common sense. Which, granted, was also George's fault. Everything was George's fault.

Hey, maybe that could be his extraordinary talent- an impressive ability to make everything worse.

"My visa," George said before letting out a shaky exhale, preparing himself to put the full phrase together. "My visa was denied, Dream."

In all honesty, George didn't remember much of the call after that. He knew Dream was switching between emotions- crying, making plans to appeal the decision, being angry at the world, hurting for George- but everything was happening too quickly for him to comprehend.

All George knew was there was a knock at his door during one of the quieter moments of their call, seeing that Dream was back to being in a similar 'everything is pointless and this is unfair' headspace as George.

"Did you seriously order me food right now?" George groaned, wiping his face off as best as he could, wishing the idiot delivery driver could've accidentally given it to his neighbor or something.

"No, what are you talking about? Wait- why? Are you hungry?"

George sat up in his chair, taken aback by the genuine confusion in Dream's voice. He didn't get much time to ponder, since whoever was at the door knocked again.

Much like everything else that had happened in the last few days, it was like George blinked and he was standing in front of his door, he blinked again and he was balancing a box on his hip while signing for a package, and by his third blink he was already sitting at his computer again.

"What is this?" George asked, despite not saying anything about the box in his lap and hadn't turned on his camera.

"What's what?" Dream mumbled back.

"I just got a package… from you."

The way Dream went silent and then groaned made George feel rather nervous. Maybe Dream had sent him a live rat or a swarm of cockroaches as a prank for ghosting him, and now it was about to be a very unfunny situation.

"It's, I mean- okay, it's not a Christmas present or anything. I honestly… I kind of thought you would've already gotten it and just chose to not say-

"What's in the box, Dream?" George interrupted, his brows furrowed at the drawn sleepy boy, the green ring around the icon disappearing for a few tense seconds.

"Open it… then I'll explain if you don't, like, get it."

With everything in the world already being so fucking complicated, George kind of wished Dream would cut the cryptic bullshit out, but in the game of chicken, George gave in first. He rummaged around his desk until he found something sharp enough to cut the packing tape.

Slowly, George pulled a hoodie out of the box.

It wasn't uncommon for Dream to send George clothes in the mail- usually merch samples or defective items that couldn't be sold- but this was different. It was an OU x Nike collaboration hoodie in light gray. George had seen the hoodie a small handful of times when Dream would send him pictures of Patches lying on his chest. Point being, this wasn't a merch design prototype or anything of the sort. The small hole on the cuff and mystery-stain near the waistband were telling of the hoodie's age.

As soon as the hoodie was fully unfolded, a small bottle with a Post-It note stuck on it fell out of the pocket.

For when it loses its 'boyfriend smell'

- Dream

"Dream?" George whispered under his breath, uncapping the small bottle and sniffing it, realizing it was a travel-size version of Dream's cologne.

"Shit, okay- um, it's, well-" Dream paused, letting out a breath forceful enough for his mic to pick it up, despite its voice isolation settings. "We had this dumb conversation on Christmas Eve about, like, a big hoodie versus a boyfriend hoodie, and I'm not- I mean, I know I'm not your boyfriend or anything like that, but I thought maybe it would be better for you to at least have something to wear from someone who loves you just as much. Wait- that sounds, um- whatever- it's… it's my hoodie, that's the point."

Dream rambled away and George was frozen with his arms suspended in the air, holding the hoodie in front of him.

"You don't have to wear it, or even keep it. You can just, like, mail it back to me if it-"

"It's mine," George interrupted, clutching the hoodie to his chest.

The fabric was soft and smelled like Dream, which George hadn't realized he didn't know until now. When he thought about things he didn't know about Dream, it always had to do with how he looked, or how tight his hugs would be- he'd completely forgotten the fact he never knew what Dream smelled like.

"What?" Dream asked quietly, his voice barely being picked up by his mic.

George scrambled to pull off the repulsive shirt he probably should've changed out of days ago, fumbling with his mouse to turn on his camera, and started changing into the hoodie.

"George, you're- you don't even- fuck- you could've waited until you had it on."

"No, I couldn't. You were- you were being an idiot and saying dumb shit, like to mail it back to you," George scoffed, making his final adjustments to get the hoodie into place. The tiny smile that had creeped up on him fell once he saw his reflection.

Greasy hair sticking up in all directions, angry and purple under eye bags, tear stained cheeks, a disturbing amount of facial hair, and a noticeable lack of spark in his eyes.

"Baby, you-"

"Don't," George stopped him.

He didn't want Dream to call him baby out of pity again. He didn't want to hear Dream's concerns regarding his terrifying appearance. He really didn't want to have to look at himself for another second. George turned off the camera as quickly as he'd turned it on.

He felt gross, he felt ugly, he felt all sorts of things he hated.

George pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping the hoodie around his legs before hugging them closer. Maybe Dream's hoodie could protect him from himself- could be his sad version of Dream hugging him and reminding him he isn't alone, no matter how much of a lie the sentiment was.

"Please turn the camera back on."

"No," George mumbled, his decline not having anywhere near as much bite as he hoped it would.

Also, he especially couldn't turn the camera back on, because he'd stupidly started crying again. He was thankful this was at least a silent cry and not one of his wailing-sobbing-hiccupping cries. George buried his nose into the stretched out neckline, taking in as deep a breath as his stuffy nose allowed.

"I won't say anything if you don't want me to… I just really want to see you in that hoodie for another second. Please, George?"

Shit, how was George supposed to tell Dream no when he sounded so pathetic?

How was he ever supposed to tell Dream no when he smelled like lavender fabric softener, sandalwood, and amber?

George complied, turning on his camera, but made sure to keep his face down. Once he pulled away from his computer mouse, he tucked his hand back into his sleeve, and wrapped his arms around his legs again.

"Okay, you don't have to literally say nothing." George rolled his eyes, briefly glancing at the screen just to make sure Dream was still there, considering there had been nothing but silence for a minute or two.

"You just… you look so," Dream paused, letting out a huff-like laugh, "cute."

George scoffed hard enough that it irritated his sore throat, but it wasn't a mean scoff. It was a 'Dream is still Dream, so maybe the world isn't so upside down after all' scoff.

"I don't think I've ever felt this gross in my life," George muttered, biting at the skin on the inside of his bottom lip. "The hoodie helps, though."

"Yeah?" Dream asked immediately, his voice sounding so sweet and hopeful, like the events of the last hour hadn't happened- that George's visa wasn't denied and they hadn't each just had the worst four days of their lives.

"Yeah," he confirmed, thankful that the neckline of the hoodie was covering his mouth, so Dream didn't see the way he smiled.

As absolutely idiotic of a gesture it was, Dream sending George one of his favorite hoodies in the mail because he vaguely mentioned wishing he had a boyfriend to steal hoodies from…

It also just might've been the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him.

"I'm going to get you home, George. I'll call in every fucking favor I have until we get enough testimonies to prove you deserve to be here. And if that doesn't work, well, you're just going to have to suck it up and marry me."

George laughed, for probably the first time all year.

Dream was an idiot, but George couldn't think of a single soul he'd rather have as his best friend.

"I, um, I should probably go. I mean, clearly I need to shower. I don't want to make your hoodie smell like week-old sweat." George smiled, feeling a little less bad about himself when he caught his reflection again.

"I threw in a little bottle of my cologne, you know, for when you inevitably make it stink like sweat anyway," Dream teased, sounding more like himself. George rolled his eyes fondly before he reached forward to end his video. Before clicking the small camera icon, he looked directly into the lens with his swollen eyes squinted.

"Be honest, how many screenshots have you taken?" George asked, tilting his head to one side. He stopped his video before the smile he was holding back became too obvious.

"Do you want the answer to your question, or do you want the full truth?"

"The full truth, whatever the hell that means," George laughed again, hugging the hoodie tighter around himself now that he wasn't under Dream's gaze (and 'prt sc' button).

"I took at least a dozen pictures, but I thought my computer might crash from how much I was spamming the print screen key, so I, uh, I was kinda of screen recording for the last, um, however long it's been since you turned your camera back on."

Maybe if George hadn't built his career off of people being obsessed with his image, he'd find the admission off putting. This was also Dream, though, which meant George knew he wasn't going to do more than rewatch the video on a sad day. Plus, it's not like George hadn't intentionally been making 'spank bank' material of himself for the better part of two years.

"Oh, you were recording me? Wow, should I accidentally leave my camera on so you can record me in the shower too? Hmm, Dream?" George teased, feeling his heartbeat return to a semi-normal rhythm for the first time in days.

"As the world's number one George simp, I cannot turn down the offer," Dream answered, quickly dissolving into a bright wheeze-laugh.

George ended up staying in that call for an additional thirty minutes while his phone charged. Then Dream actually did have food delivered to George's flat- twenty nuggets with ketchup and a large strawberry-banana smoothie from McDonald's- which prolonged their call another hour. By the time George got around to getting in the shower, he realized he didn't actually want to be alone in that bathroom again- alone in general- so he called Dream back from his phone before he even exited Discord on his PC.

Dream didn't tease him like he normally would for being so clingy. Part of George wished he would, just to keep things light between them. The other part of George (the much bigger part) was thankful for the extension of solidarity Dream offered him in the form of silent agreement.

January of 2022 may have turned out to be the hardest month of George's life to date, but the bad didn't stay for long.

A few days after George emerged from his self-imposed isolation, the conversation they had was relayed to Sapnap. In a surprising turn of events, Sapnap went to the post office the next day to renew his passport. Just shy of five weeks later, Sapnap was in London with George. Luckily, aside from doing a couple obligatory streams, George was able to keep Sapnap out of his flat.

He was beyond grateful to not be alone, even for just a couple weeks, but there were some technical issues that reared their ugly heads immediately. Okay, not ugly. In fact, they were arguably very pretty. Point being, George had amassed quite the sex toy and lingerie collection over the last two years. While his number of belongings had grown, the amount of available space in his flat had not. Everything relating to the GeorgeNotFound part of his life was not-so-securely hidden in his spare bedroom.

Thankfully, it didn't seem to be too much of an issue, until George had to be the worst friend of the year when Sapnap had a double ear infection and needed a place to stay until he was cleared to fly. George figured having Sapnap be pissed at him for making him stay at a hotel was better than him never being able to look at him the same way after snooping around his spare room (if you considered opening literally any drawer in that room snooping) if he were to let him crash in there.

A few other friends came to London for short visits- Karl, Quackity, and Tina- but still no Dream. George understood, if anything he shared the same sentiment, but that didn't make it any easier a pill to swallow.

Dream couldn't risk visiting London, in case it would blow his cover and ruin his face reveal. At least, that was the reason they shared at first. Really, they both agreed it would be too painful to see each other for a short time and then have to say goodbye. It wasn't a verbal agreement, but a silent one.

Sometimes silence speaks much louder than words.

August was a hard month.

It'd been two months since George's final testimony, courtesy of MattPat, had been submitted, yet there was nothing but radio silence from the visa office. George refused to let himself spiral back to the place he'd been bouncing in and out of since the beginning of 2021, doing his best to stay positive about the situation.

But then Dream's birthday came around.

George and Sapnap both tried adamantly to get Dream to go out, to see family, to do absolutely anything with his day, but he refused. By the time midnight rolled around on August twelfth, George was in a nearly silent call with Dream, listening to background sniffles and mumbled commentary to the film he'd long stopped watching.

August was the first month George nearly fucked over his entire chance of getting his visa approved, since he was one more teary phone call with Dream away from buying a ticket to Florida.

George had never been the best at comforting people. Considering his and Dream's dynamic was usually Dream comforting him, it made the role reversal even harder.

They ended up on a call together sometime the day before Dream's birthday and didn't hang up until late in the day after his birthday passed. It wasn't George's favorite call he'd had with Dream, but it was also far from the worst.

George told him happy birthday at 7pm EST and again at midnight Dream's time. He pointedly avoided any talk of 'next year I'll only have to tell you once', figuring that was off the table for the time being.

Sapnap joined their VC for a few hours before ending up in Dream's room with him. George couldn't wait for the day that he could comfort Dream by just existing with him in person, instead of trying to find the right words to say from seven thousand kilometers away.

Seeing that George had been better about uploading OnlyFans content and he really needed to record something, it meant their call had to come to an end. Not without Dream breaking his heart one last time though.

"I think- not even memeing- that if you're not here by the end of September, my mental health is gonna, like, nosedive."

"Don't say that," George sighed. After eight months of waiting for his appeal to go through, he'd learned better than to promise he'd be in America by a certain time, so telling Dream 'I'll be there, don't worry' wasn't an option.

"Why not? It's true," Dream grumbled back.

George wished he knew what to say that could console Dream, but he was damn near out of ideas. He pulled up the neckline of Dream's OU hoodie over his chin, burying his nose in the worn out material, and took a deep breath in. He'd just washed it and put a few spritz of Dream's cologne on it, making it smell almost as good as when he first got it in the mail.

"What fabric softener do you use?" George asked through a mumble, thinking back of hazy memories filled with a lightly floral scent- something like lavender and cedar.

"What… what the fuck?" Dream asked back instead of answering, making George laugh lightly at the realization of how obscure his question was.

"Sorry, I'm- uh, I'm wearing your hoodie right now. I just washed it and put more of your cologne on it, but it never smells like it did when I first got it. Like, it used to smell kinda, I don't know, lavender-y or something. I was thinking I'd switch to whatever you use," George explained with a shrug, even though Dream couldn't see it.

"You still… wait, are you just wearing that because it was my birthday?"

George rolled his eyes, wondering how a question about fabric softener had devolved into whatever this conversation was.

"I wear it all the time, idiot. I literally saw a stupid TikTok claiming all my streams this year were pre recorded, because I'm wearing the same gray hoodie in all of them- it's the hoodie you gave me that I'm always wearing." George fiddled with the frayed drawstrings around the hoodie, twirling the loose strings around his fingers.

"Like, you wear it for streams?" Dream asked, still not following George's rather straightforward response.

"No, I mean I wear it all the time," George huffed. "Why is that so hard for you to grasp? I mean, the whole point of you sending me your sweatshirt was because I whined about how much I wanted to wear my boyfriend's hoodie."

"Your boyfriend," Dream echoed softly, making George outwardly groan.

"Oh my god, you-you know what I mean." George hid his face a little further into the material, feeling his cheeks flush out of embarrassment.

Had things with Dream grown a little… complicated over the last eight months? Sure, to some extent. Their lives were so intertwined, even George's own family refused to believe George didn't know what Dream looked like, considering they were also all convinced he and Dream were in a not-so-secret relationship.

It's not like George told them that or something- they just wrongly assumed it. In their defense, all George talked about was Dream, he was moving to Florida to live with Dream, for the entirety of the year he had spent at least three or four days a week wearing Dream's hoodie- the list goes on.

It was a rather incriminating list.

And maybe George also had some of his own little epiphany about how maybe it wasn't such a platonic thing to feel like his entire life lost its meaning when his visa had been denied and he couldn't be with Dream.

George preferred to ignore that epiphany.

"It's, uh- the lavender comes from the laundry wash I use. It's the tea tree, lavender, and cedar one by Lil' Green Wagon," Dream answered, sounding awfully shy.

"Little green- really? You couldn't just use Gain or, like, Downy?" George laughed, thankfully making Dream laugh also.

"It's some hippie-dippie essential oils brand my mom likes, I don't know what to tell you!" Dream tried to sound defensive, but the laughter embedded in his voice gave away his amusement.

"Whatever- order me some." George rolled his eyes, pushing himself out of his bed. "And more of your cologne. I'm nearly out of the little bottle you sent."

He made his way over to his closet, looking around at all the different lingerie options he had. He knew he'd be going for something simple after last week's fiasco with the latex bodysuit (always put talcum powder or silicone lube on your skin before putting on latex…).

"I'll… get right on that."

George smiled.

"One more thing before I let you go- black, or light pink?" George asked, pulling out two of the same piece in different colors.

Each were babydoll style sheer dresses, with lace details on the top, and thongs to match. They were items Clay had gifted him years ago, but they were still some of George's favorites. Most lingerie fit him poorly in the chest, seeing that he didn't have much of anything going on up there, but Clay seemed to always know the perfect size and style for his body, picking him the most flattering sets.

"Black or pink what, exactly? Like, are we talking a hoodie, a-"

"No context, just pick. Black," he paused, holding up the black dress for his eyes only, "or pink?" George finished, alternating to hold up the pink one instead.

"Uh, okay. I guess light pink. You look cute in pink- assuming this is something you'll be wearing." Dream chuckled.

"You're an idiot," George said through a scoff, fighting off the blush that Dream’s stupid little compliment was making sprout on his cheeks. "I'll call you when I finish up in a- or uh, I'll call you later." George corrected at the last second (yeah… nice save there, George).

"Right, um, I'll talk to you soon."

If George went on to film himself whimpering and moaning in a little pink slip with the fantasy of a big man with blond hair, green eyes, and broad shoulders having his fingers inside of him instead of his own, well, the viewers didn't need to know that.

And neither did the muse of his fantasy.

George continued on like that for a few more weeks, every recorded orgasm being accompanied by the same flashes of a hazy image George had long associated with Dream, until September eighteenth rolled around.

George had just completed his final visa interview a few days prior and was very happy with how the interview went compared to the last. They told him he'd receive a decision in about a week, then it'd be another few days before his visa arrived, if all went in his favor.

So, when George didn't think twice about the ever growing number of unread emails in his inbox and he stopped at the post office on his way home from the store on a whim, the last thing he expected to be waiting for him was his visa.

His real, physical, approved visa.

George felt like he was holding the golden ticket to Wonka's chocolate factory, but a thousand times sweeter. It was almost terrifying how unreal it felt- how George was convinced that if he blinked for a second too long, he'd wake up in his bed to find he'd accidentally fallen asleep instead of gone to the store.

After three unsuccessful attempts with his shaking hands to unlock the door to his flat, George finally made it inside and dropped his groceries to the floor, leaving just his visa in one hand and his phone in the other.

The only problem was that Dream wasn't answering his goddamn phone.

Not Discord, not TeamSpeak, not even a call to his actual phone number.

George's excitement didn't necessarily dwindle, but it definitely wasn't as high up on his list of priorities now. Dream always answered his phone- or at the very least shot George a text within a minute or two. It didn't matter if he was sleeping, in a meeting, taking a shower, or so on- if George was calling, Dream picked up.

But, of course, at the most dire time he needed to answer his phone, Dream was completely MIA.

George felt like one of those soon-to-be divorcees in a bad romance movie, standing on the front porch with a cardigan wrapped around herself, waiting for her husband to come home three hours late from work. But instead of a porch it was his computer chair, instead of a cardigan it was Dream's hoodie, and instead of an unfaithful husband, it was his best friend.

A mixture of relief and anxiety flooded his system when an hour and a half had passed and Dream's contact flashed on his computer screen.

"Dream?"

"Hey, you called?" Dream answered, sounding completely normal.

Now, it's not like George was hoping something was wrong, but it would've at least made him feel a little better about being ghosted… for two hours.

"Yeah, about ten times." He rolled his eyes, determined to get to the bottom of Dream's disappearance before sharing the news.

"Okay, it was more like four-"

"So you're saying you saw I called you four times and you didn't answer?" George interrupted, unable to hold back his defensive tone.

"What? No, I didn't- I didn't, like, actively ignore your calls. I was busy."

George scoffed. Dream was busy.

Dream was always busy and that still never stopped him from answering his phone when George called him. There were only two other times George could remember off the top of his head where couldn't get ahold of Dream. The first was when his mum had taken him to the vet to have his cat, Rocky, put down. When George did finally hear back from Dream, he was a sobbing mess. Since Dream sounded awfully normal when he called him back, George was taking that as confirmation there was nothing wrong with Patches.

The only other time George couldn't get ahold of Dream was a couple years ago when he was still with his ex-girlfriend. He knew how much she despised their friendship and he was so scared when Dream didn't answer the phone one night- afraid she had finally won- but it turned out they were just fucking.

By that logic, Dream didn't answer his phone when there was trouble with his cat or when he was having sex.

George didn't like that realization.

"How's Patches?" George asked under his breath, unsure if it would be scarier to hear that something was wrong, or that nothing was wrong.

"Seriously? You spammed my phone because you wanted a-"

"Just tell me how she's doing!" George interrupted with a groan, trying to put more emphasis on the annoyance in his voice, that way the fear could be masked.

"She's fine, I assume. I mean, she threw up yesterday, so that was annoying to clean up, but it was just a hairball," Dream answered reluctantly, seeming to be unimpressed with George's question.

George was equally unimpressed with Dream's answer- or at least what it implied, based on his totally soundproof logic.

"So, what have you been busy with?" George asked, wondering if Dream was going to come clean- going to share all the details with him, which he wasn't sure would make the situation better or worse.

"Just, I don't know- stuff, George. I was doing stuff."

"Stuff," he repeated, scoffing under his breath. "Well, you sure were doing something," he muttered bitterly.

"Christ, George- it was… look, it was just private, okay? Why's it even matter, like, I'm on the phone with you now, aren't I? Tell me why you called earlier." Dream pivoted the conversation away from the topic, sounding rather desperate to talk about anything but this.

"I got my visa." George looked down with a frown, fiddling with the small booklet. "Like, I'm holding it in my hand right now."

"George, I get you're- that's just… you can be upset I didn't answer, but don't say you got your visa when you didn't to be petty. That's taking things way too-"

Dream stopped talking as soon as George turned his camera on. He kept his gaze away from the screen, holding his visa out in front of him, and tapped it against the knee he was hugging to his chest.

"Are you memeing? Are you memeing me?" Dream asked, a quick bubble of laughter following.

"I'm serious." George leaned forward, holding it up to the camera until it focused.

"You're being completely serious? Oh my god- yes!"

Dream was fully cheering at that point and maybe the joy and unfiltered happiness in his voice was enough to get a laugh out of George. He was still feeling some type of way about the idea of Dream being off sleeping with someone, but that could wait.

Now, it was time to celebrate.

"When's your flight?" Dream asked a while later, once the giggles and screeches had finally slowed down.

"My flight?" George asked back with a more confused smile, tilting his head to the side, and watching his reflection.

"Yeah, like your flight home! Have you booked it yet? I mean, I'm assuming it's not tonight. So, when is it? Tomorrow, the next day, the day after that?"

"I haven't, um, I haven't booked it yet- or really even, like, thought about it. I've got, uh, I have a lot of loose ends I need to tie up in London before I can leave. Like, um, I agreed to play in a football charity match next week and-"

"You're still doing that? I mean, I know I was the one who said you should in the first place, but that was just because I wanted to make sure you had things to look forward to until your visa came… But your visa is here now, George." Dream sounded confused, his words becoming more uncertain when George turned off his camera in the middle of his sentence.

"I can't just flake on my responsibilities, Dream." George bit his lip, standing up from his chair and looking into his wardrobe.

He owned an ungodly amount of lingerie and sex toys- all of which would need to be packed by no one other than himself. That left him with the terrifying realization that either he was going to have to risk his chances with all his intimate items in a checked bag on his flight, or send them in the mail. Each option posed the risk of his beloved items getting lost, stolen, or god forbid- opened.

"George, what's going on? It's like you have cold feet all of a sudden."

"I don't have-" George groaned, kicking a pile of clothes on his floor on his way back to his seat. "I wasn't even expecting to hear their decision for a few more days and then another few for the visa to actually come. I'm not… I'm not ready, Dream. Like, my flat's a disaster, I don't have any boxes- fuck, I don't even own a suitcase," he paused to bury his face in his hands.

"Leave it all behind and I'll buy you a new… everything. I mean it- clothes, shoes, toiletries, a cleaning service to go through your apartment, whatever, I don't care about the price."

Now was not the time for George to be turned on. It was really not the time.

"Dream, that would cost a fortune for no-"

"Who cares how much it costs? Not me! George, if money is what you're worried about- fuck it- I'm buying you a plane ticket right now, first class. Better yet, the even more exclusive part of first class that has seats that lay all the way down and has dividers between seats 'n' shit. I'll spend all my money on you, baby- you know why? Because you're fucking worth it."

Oh, he was hard- he was completely fucking hard from nothing more than Dream talking about spending money on him, and more importantly why he wanted to spend money on him- because he was worth it.

"Dream," George whined, unable to hold back from running a palm over the outline of his bulge, shuddering from the minuscule contact.

"Tell me what day to buy the ticket for, or else I'm getting you one for the next available flight."

God- now he sounded stern and George was but a weak and easily turned on man.

"I need… two weeks?" George questioned, trying to be as quiet as possible while shimmying the waistband of his shorts over his ass- his dick springing up to brush against Dream's hoodie, leaving behind a small stain from his precum-soaked tip. "I can get everything in order by then."

"Two weeks? Fuck, you really want to keep a man waiting, huh, Georgie?" Dream chuckled, his voice low and raspy, making it damn near impossible for George to not let out a sound when he swiped his palm across the tip of his dick, spreading precum down his shaft.

"'M sorry," he breathed out, fighting to keep his hips still, afraid the chair would squeak and give him away.

He felt awful and guilty and like such a pervert- which also made him feel hot all over and even more turned on. Dream would probably- no, certainly be weirded out to know George was touching himself while they were on a call. Not to mention the fact it wasn't even some kind of coincidence- it was specifically because of Dream.

"I suppose you're forgiven, so long as you turn your camera back on." There was a smile in Dream's voice, but it was clear he still felt like he was in charge here. George may like to play the part of an impossible to tame brat in his day-to-day life, but as soon as George was turned on, he became a pliant puddy in the hands of whoever he was submitting to.

"You wanna see me?" George mumbled, his knees spreading on their own volition.

"Well, I want to do so much more than just see you, obviously," Dream laughed in response, his voice still low and smooth, like soothing waves lapping against the sea shore.

"What do you want to do to me?" George asked before he could stop himself, sucking in a breath when he sped up his strokes. There was a slight slick sound to each stroke when he passed over his head, dragging down fresh precum with each flick of his wrist.

"I want to… give you a hug? George, are you okay? You sound- ha, like um, you sound like- are you okay?" Dream couldn't seem to finish his stuttered sentence.

And just like that, it was like George heard a record scratch and he was transported back to reality.

It was a shame the reality of the situation was that George was building up to what would've been a pretty damn good orgasm, but he was going to have to edge himself from it.

"Huh? Oh- yeah! Fine, I'm um, totally fine," he lied, quite poorly. George sat up, looking around frantically for the pair of shorts he'd lost sometime in the last few minutes.

"Yeah, because that sounded convincing. Come on, turn on your camera for just a bit. I need to start savoring the memories I have of your pretty face in London, since- you know- I'm about to start seeing it every day in Florida."

Alright, now that wasn't helping George's raging boner issue.

"Actually, um, I should probably start packing, so-"

"Aww, Georgie. Don't you want to be a good boy?" Dream teased, immediately bursting into laughter after. Part of George was terrified that Dream figured out he was struggling with how turned on he was at the moment, but the other (and much more in control) part of George was falling apart further with each of Dream's teases.

He was genuinely considering turning on his camera exactly as he was- no bottoms, hard dick smearing precum on Dream's hoodie with every twitch, spread legs, and patient fingers aching to dive inside of him. Just the thought of what Dream would look like seeing George like that- reminding himself that option was absolutely off the table was that much harder to remember.

"I'll call you later," George rushed, biting down on his lip when he leaned forward, not letting out a sound.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second."

Damn his innate desire to obey.

"I'm sorry if I was pushing it with the camera thing. How about… how about when you call me later, I'll turn mine on too. I mean, I did say we could FaceTime once your visa was here," Dream offered.

"Really?" George asked in a whisper, still not quite convinced that any of this was real.

The visa, the fact Dream was likely off having sex with someone earlier, the unintentional and very one sided edge play, finally being able to see what Dream looked like- all of it.

"Yeah, so, um, call me whenever. Sound good?"

"Sounds… yeah, that's- yeah." George leaned back in the chair again, covering the smile on his face with his hand. "Talk soon."

George ended the call before Dream could say anything else. He had a new level of adrenaline coursing through him now, a jittery anticipation of actually seeing Dream's face for the first time. Although, there was still a more pressing matter that required all of George's attention for the time being.

He let his hand wander back down to his dick, picking up a little slower than where he left off, but not by much. As much as he also craved a full feeling and something to press against his prostate, George was too desperate to chase the orgasm that barely slipped him by earlier.

Moans and whines bounced off his empty walls, never having been decorated, since the flat was never meant to be more than a temporary stop on his way to his new home in Florida. George didn't bother censoring his mind that day- think of it as a little treat- instead indulging in every rogue thought of Dream that popped into his head without any reservation or pushback.

By the time George reached his climax, he had nearly slid out of his chair, and was spilling over his hand and onto Dream's hoodie (which shouldn't have been as hot as his brain made him think it was).

"Fuck," George groaned under his breath.

Now that his head was out of the clouds, he was left with the aftermath of a cummy-hoodie, ass sweat on his desk chair, and no chance of getting back on call with Dream without taking a shower first.

It struck him as odd that some habits- some people- could be so quick to come and go, yet his mind still yearned for the normalcy of them being around. With one of the most exciting things of his life about to happen, George wanted to talk to someone who gave him the same feeling that Dream did, but be able to blow their mind with the news he was about to share.

He wanted to talk to someone like Clay.

Clay was the only person, aside from Dream, who was able to really match George's energy. George- whether Clay was aware of it or not- felt like he could be both GeorgeNotFound and just George whenever they talked. Looking back on their conversations, it probably wouldn't seem that way, but it was just a feeling George had at the time.

He missed it.

He missed Clay.

But right now, George didn't have time to dampen his excitement to dwell on missing a person he arguably never knew, because his best friend was waiting for him- waiting to show him his face for the first time after seven years of friendship.

And that- that he could be excited about.

Chapter Text

George had always blushed easily.

By the time he was on his fifth FaceTime with Dream in under a week, he thought he'd stop blushing so damn hard every time he saw the other's face, but he was wrong.

He was so wrong.

Letting himself come on call- okay, nearly on call- with Dream had clearly done something to his brain, because all George could think about was how there was a beautiful man on the other side of the world waiting for him to come home.

God, home.

It was the only place George wanted to be.

He'd packed anything and everything he owned that could potentially kill his mother from a heart attack if she saw it, then invited over his mum and sister to help him pack up the rest.

George tried not to think about how if Clay were still in the picture, he would've hired an entire moving company to pack away every square inch of George's life into carefully labeled boxes. Granted, Dream did offer him the same thing, but George had to turn him down for obvious reasons.

Obvious, silicone, vibrating, occasionally knot-having reasons.

Days moved by in a blur, his life simultaneously shrinking and growing around him. Every day there was less and less in his flat to look at- even his boxes disappeared with each trip to the postal office- but George's world grew in the form of pictures of his new home.

Sapnap napping on the couch with a hat covering his face and a hand shoved into his pants. The new paint Dream had done in George's room. Patches standing on the kitchen counter, eating off a rotisserie chicken that Sapnap left out the night before.

Dream just… being Dream.

Those were George's favorite pictures to get- usually on Snapchat and taken in Dream's disastrous looking closet, with Dream on his third outfit attempt of the day in preparation for TwitchCon.

The last thing George cared about at the moment was any type of event or convention. All he'd been thinking about day and night was finally- finally- going home.

Ironically enough, the day he did arrive home was the biggest blur of George's entire life. It felt more like he was watching his life play out like a movie more than him actually living it. One minute he was on a plane, then he was in Sapnap's car, then he was awkwardly hugging Dream and jumping in place.

His first day was filled with cameras in his face, new smells, new sights to take in, and so much information that his mind couldn't even attempt to retain anything. The first time George really felt like he was back in his body and truly present in the moment was long after the sun had set on his first night.

Sapnap had started a bonfire and gone to get fireworks (yeah, fireworks, because apparently you can just own those in America??), while Dream and George sat on the patio furniture and talked about the stars. Growing up and spending most of his life in London, George didn't see stars often, but here in his new home, the entire night sky was glowing above them.

They bickered over constellation names and which star was the North Star until Sapnap got back. Dream had remained frozen in his seat, but George had maybe not-so-subtly been inching his way over to Dream's side. He used Sapnap collapsing onto the couch with them as his final push to fully rest against Dream.

Dream put his arm around George's shoulder for less than a minute, seeing that Sapnap immediately started complaining that Dream should have to set off the fireworks, since he's the one who got them from the shed. Dream complied, much to George's disappointment, but he shucked off his hoodie and plopped it onto George's lap before he left.

Dream claimed it was because he didn't want any stray sparks to singe it, but based on the way his eyes lit up at the sight of George putting it on himself without any prompting or hesitation, he knew Dream's reasoning was nothing more than an excuse. George wore Dream's hoodie for the rest of their time outside.

Once the mosquitos and other concerningly large bugs (terrifyingly large, really) became too bothersome, the three headed inside. George took off Dream's hoodie as soon as they were in the house, complaining that it smelled too strongly of bonfire smoke, and returned it to Dream.

By the time they all reconvened in the movie room an hour later, George was delighted to see Dream had casually brought an extra hoodie downstairs with him 'in case anyone got cold', which George readily claimed before Sapnap could even open his mouth.

Needless to say, one of George's favorite things about moving in with Dream was the fact his 'boyfriend hoodie' had evolved into a 'boyfriend wardrobe'. There was an unspoken rule between them that George was allowed to steal any item of Dream's clothing he desired, and Dream wasn't allowed to complain about it. Well, it wasn't so much a rule- more like Dream seemed nothing but happy to let George wear his clothes, even if he only returned them once they lost their smell.

The original OU hoodie was still George's favorite, which made it harder to return to Dream sometimes. He knew he'd be getting it back with the addition of Dream's scent on it, but it was still hard to part ways with for the few days it would be gone.

It was a Monday, meaning it had been two days since Dream's mum came over and did their laundry (look, George offered to do his own when he first moved in, but Linda is a very hard lady to say no to). Dream had worn the hoodie over the course of the entire weekend, so when George stepped out of his bathroom after taking a shower and found it sitting on his bed, he was in heaven.

George stripped out of his towel right then and there, putting on the hoodie as fast as he could. Even after all this time, it was still perfect. It went down to his mid thigh- maybe a bit shorter- which meant he didn't even have to wear underwear with it if he didn't want to.

George didn't want to today.

With the hoodie tugged into place, George pocketed his phone, and made his way to Dream's room.

The door was left opened a crack- something Dream did so Patches could come and go as she pleased, but George liked to take that as a welcome sign for himself too.

"Hi, George." Dream scoffed, not even looking over his shoulder when George walked in. Apparently Sapnap didn't invite himself into Dream's room, so he never had to guess who was barging in.

"Hi, idiot," George said with a smug smile, even if Dream wasn't looking at him.

Although he was wearing the hoodie because he wanted to, he knew Dream also loved seeing George in his clothes- especially the original ‘boyfriend hoodie’. Some people say nice things or do a favor to show their appreciation- George did this instead.

He plopped himself into Dream's bed on his stomach, clutching a pillow under his chest, and started scrolling TikTok. George figured he'd lay there for about three minutes max before Dream would join him.

"Fuck," Dream groaned (George liked to think it sounded more like a moan than a groan), giving away that he must've turned around. "Don't tell me you aren't wearing anything under that right now."

"Fine, I won't tell you." George did his best to shrug, trying to be as subtle as possible.

Was there still a desperate part of George that wanted to lift his hips in the air so the hoodie would fall around his waist, proving he wasn't wearing anything underneath? Yes. Was he actually going to do it? Ultimately, no- but reminding himself why he couldn't was getting harder every day.

"You're insane," Dream muttered under his breath.

"I'm insane, or I just drive you insane?" George asked with a smile over his shoulder, expecting to see Dream looking nervously around the room with a heavy dose of blush on his cheeks. Instead, George was met with Dream staring intently at his upper thigh. He looked serious… Dream never looked serious, unless it was-

"Oh my god- is it a bug? Is there a bug on me?" George asked with a shake in his voice, paralyzed with fear in an instant.

Florida and its damn bugs.

"George-"

"Get it off me- now, Dream!" George interrupted, the shake in his voice spreading to his body. Maybe it was irrational and maybe he should've grown out of it years ago, but he couldn't deal with bugs. He considered it a win enough that he wasn't terrified of small animals like lizards or frogs anymore- bugs were a battle he could win another day.

"There's nothing- I swear! I was just… I was looking at this," Dream trailed off slowly, but the brush of his hand across George's leg, just below his ass, was enough to have a different panic running through George's veins.

"You're… you're being serious? There's no bug?" George questioned, trying to rid his mind of the worry so he could focus all his attention on the fact Dream's hand was still holding the back of his thigh.

"No bug, baby."

God help him.

Since he moved in, George noticed immediately that Dream's use of the pet name dropped significantly. He'd still use it when they texted on occasion, and a few times when George would call him before bed- despite being in the same house- but this… this was the first time Dream had called him baby the way George had been wanting him to.

There were a million things running through George's head. He wanted to feel Dream's lips on the back of his legs, kissing their way up slowly. He wanted to experience Dream's tongue gliding over his rim and working its way inside him. He wanted to arch his ass in the air so Dream could slip his fingers between his cheeks, eventually sinking one inside to-

"George?"

Okay- now god help him.

That last one apparently wasn't just a thought. He could literally feel the slight draft from the air conditioner blowing against his exposed skin… he could also feel Dream's hand in the same place as before.

"Oh- just- I'm trying to see what you’re talking about," George rushed, dropping his hips a couple inches back down to the mattress. Dream's hand followed. It was like he super glued himself to George's thigh or something.

"Your birthmark, it just… caught my eye, I guess." Dream's fingers trailed halfway down George's thigh before he pulled his hand away completely.

"You know, this is the second time you've used my birthmark as an excuse to look at my ass." George turned to face Dream with a grin, as he climbed into the bed beside him. Dream made a quick raspberry sound with his lips before letting out a nervous laugh.

"No, really! I was only looking at- okay, well, to be fair, you practically just shook your ass in my face, so like, I'm gonna look," Dream defended, still chuckling under his breath.

"You're obsessed with my ass, you can admit it. The first step to accepting you have a problem is owning up to it," George said condescendingly. As if to prove Dream was an addict, George perched his ass into the air slightly, just to watch Dream's gaze shift focus immediately.

"Oh my god, stop that!" Dream scolded, placing his hand on George's lower back so he'd lay flush against the bed again. George was fully laughing at that point, even as Dream attempted to pull the hoodie down as far as it could go to cover George up.

"But really, what's so special about the birthmark?" George asked once his laughter had died down and Dream seemed to have collected his bearings.

"Just, uh, just an interesting shape," Dream answered, only sounding about half convinced himself.

"Outline it," George requested before he was even aware of what he was saying. "I mean, I can't really see it that well, but if you, like, outline it with your finger, maybe I'll get a better understanding of the shape."

"You say I have an obsession with your ass, yet you're the one basically asking me to touch it?" Dream squinted at him.

"Hey- I'm just trying to let you redeem yourself here, Dream. If you draw a circle, then I know you've been using it as an excuse to check out my ass. If you draw an actually cool shape… you were still just checking out my ass, but then I'd know my birthmark is shaped like a dinosaur," George laughed, resting his cheek on the pillow he'd been hugging.

"You're an idiot," Dream scoffed, but the hesitant hover of his hand returned. "Don't fucking grind against my hand again this time."

"I won't. I've given you enough jerk off material already." George smiled at Dream again, all too happy with himself.

His smile faded when Dream's entire palm returned to the back of his thigh, the swipe of his thumb reaching high enough to actually graze his ass cheek. George did his best to keep his breathing level and his body still, despite his innate desire to moan and roll his hips against Dream's hand.

With a soft touch, Dream's finger started drawing on his skin, making George shiver.

"Sensitive?" Dream asked, his voice far too low for George's crumbling self control.

"No," George said through gritted teeth, begging his body to not be so damn reactive.

"Pfft, liar," Dream teased, allowing his fingers to roam beyond the imaginary borders of George's birthmark.

George's legs were spreading on their own, opening inch by inch, while Dream's hand made a home between them. To make matters worse, his arms were also acting on their own volition. They stretched forward, riding up the hoodie with them. George had no doubt his ass was showing more now than when Dream first touched him.

All he wanted was for Dream to roll him over, to look him in the eye, and tell him he knows exactly what George is doing. He wanted Dream to call his bluff, to say only a whore looking to be fucked would pull a stunt like this. He wanted to tell Dream he was right.

"Comfy?" Dream asked under his breath, sounding both amused and surprised by George's action.

"Could be… more comfy," George answered, wishing that Dream would read his mind and give him all the things he was far too embarrassed to request. Funny- GeorgeNotFound the porn star was too embarrassed to ask his best friend to fuck him.

"Is that why you came in here? Wanted me to help you relax?" Dream's voice had gotten softer, lower- even if he couldn't explain it, George would also describe it as darker. It was like Dream wasn't really asking him questions, but he was daring him to agree.

"Mmph-" George muffled the sound as best as he could into the pillow. He was one more squeeze of Dream's hand to his inner thigh away from grinding against the bed.

Then Dream's hand disappeared and reality came crashing around him- the reality that he just downright moaned from Dream caressing his inner thigh.

"Shit- sorry… sorry," George rushed, pushing the hoodie back into place to cover himself. He was terrified to look over at Dream, and if it weren't for the raging boner he was hiding beneath his stomach, he would've gotten up to flee the scene of the crime.

"No, no it's- um, you're good," Dream said a minute later, clearing his throat. "I'm gonna, uh, I need to go take a shower- a cold shower," he whispered the last part, but George heard it loud and clear.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Dream specifying he had to take a cold shower must've meant he was also turned on… but did that mean he didn't want to be turned on?

Once Dream's bathroom door shut behind him, George scrambled out of the bed as fast as his wobbly legs allowed. Whatever good karma he received for not jerking off in Dream's bed came in the form of a Sapnap-free sprint across the house to his own bedroom.

It wasn't often George was desperate to touch himself like this, and it made him wish he could film it for his OnlyFans, but he couldn't. It was still too close a timeline to GeorgeHD's move to Florida for GeorgeNotFound to suddenly be uploading videos in a new location too. It was also far too dangerous to do anything as incriminating as filming himself getting off when Dream and Sapnap were home.

George settled instead for a record time prep, a plug on the smaller side that sat cozied up right next to his prostate, and a lubed fist. With every roll of his hips, the toy brushed against his prostate a little harder, making it a quick process getting to his second orgasm of the day (showers are boring without at least a little self play), but even so, it was far from his first time coming with Dream's name rolling off his tongue.

As if his day couldn't get any stranger, once he was finished and cleaned up, the most recent notification on George's home screen was from his OnlyFans account- which shouldn't even be possible. George had all OnlyFans notifications turned off aside from…

Congratulations, GeorgeNotFound! ClayBalls has just subscribed to your OnlyFans profile

… ones involving the account ClayBalls, which were even set to go through his do not disturb settings.

Maybe it was a mistake, or someone else with the same username, or potentially a hacker.

Or maybe ClayBalls was just… back.

Whether or not George was entitled to the wide array of emotions he felt seeing Clay's username pop up after all this time, he was damn sure of one thing.

He would not be the first one to reach out, no matter how badly he wanted to. He had self control- he could wait it out… he could let Clay reach out to him when the time was right.

After two months in America, George had finally run out of pre-recorded content to upload to his OnlyFans. That was even with him stretching his content to bi-weekly uploads for subscribers and only one free video for his followers a month.

George had come to realize he had a major problem, or at least he feared it may be a major problem. There was no doubt that his fame today shied in comparison to what it was in 2020, considering that the pandemic was at its peak back then and no one had anything better to do than stay home and watch people online. Even so, George had a core group of fans- both as GeorgeHD and GeorgeNotFound- and one of those groups knew George just went through a major move…

If there was any overlap in those two fanbases, now would be the time he'd get exposed.

He did his best to rationalize that if that were ever going to happen, it would've happened already. George had been doing this for years and there had never been as much as a rumor that he was both creators. All he had to do was make sure that whatever room he filmed in for his OnlyFans, he never showed to his YouTube audience.

His bathroom seemed like a safe enough place for now.

This was also the safest opportunity he’d had to film since he moved in- Sapnap was staying the weekend at Punz's place and Dream was certainly sleeping heavily in his own room. He was starting to get sick again with god knows what, so George was hoping whatever medicine he took for his headache would keep him knocked out for at least a few hours.

Not that he was going to need that long.

George was wearing a piece that he hadn't worn on camera before, too afraid that it would be connected back to GeorgeHD in the 2020-2021 era when he got it, but the meme was dead enough for George to feel comfortable wearing the lingerie on his OnlyFans.

A maid costume.

Arguably, it wasn't even a real maid costume, at least not the kind that the YouTube fans had been drawing all of them in. It was a sheer, black slip, with white trim details, and a tie around his waist. Sliding the piece on made George smile- even if it wasn't anywhere near as luxurious as the lingerie sets he used to get as gifts, it still felt beyond nice to finally dress up again. Granted, George favored comfort over most things, but every now and then he liked to saunter around his flat in his favorite little costumes. It made George feel sexy, and god- he hadn't felt sexy in far too long.

The bathroom lighting was low, a bubble bath already drawn, and a few new scented candles were lit and lining the tub. This was for nothing more than a promo, really. He'd just film a one or two minute segment sitting on the edge of the tub, advertising what he was going to post for his subscribers.

George turned on his phone camera, walking a few steps backwards. The short black dress was completely see through, and he was happy to have nothing on underneath.

"So… I've had a little bit of an upgrade." He gestured to the bathroom around him with one arm, keeping his other in front of himself. George was practically bouncing in place with excitement- he felt silly for it, but filming explicit content was something that had brought him joy for years.

OnlyFans was the first job that paid him a livable wage and was something he genuinely enjoyed. In more ways than not, George's life started when GeorgeNotFound was born. Sure, when it came to financial freedom, he would've gotten that from the YouTube and Twitch money that followed soon after. It wasn't about the money though- filming himself getting off, coming, and being showered in gifts and praise for doing just that- that was what made him feel alive.

"The water is perfect," George hummed, intentionally leaning over in a way that exposed the crest where his ass met his thighs. Just to throw the followers a bone, George spread his legs a bit more, really putting himself on display.

"I'm going to put this bath to use in a video for my subscribers, so if you wanna see, that's where you can find me." George used the bottom hem of his maid dress to dry the water off his hand, pulling it up high enough to expose his hip bone.

George watched over the video once, making sure his voice wasn't too obviously his own and that his face never dipped too far into frame. It was a bit nerve wracking to pick up this type of content creation after going a couple months without it, but it was just like riding a bike.

With the click of a button, George uploaded the video. He set up his professional camera for the subscriber video, formulating his game plan for how he was going to go about filming. George had a dildo he'd been wanting to try out, but he also wasn't sure if maybe a plug video would be better.

George didn't get the chance to debate on the matter for much longer, since there was a frantic knocking on his bedroom door.

To say George's heart jumped out of his chest was an understatement.

"Dream?" George called out, grabbing his bathrobe and wrapping it around himself as quickly as he could. None of his little maid dress was visible, and that was all that mattered.

"George," Dream said with a strained voice, continuing to knock on the door.

"I was about to, uh, get in the bath. Is everything-" George cut himself off as soon as he opened his bedroom door. Dream looked like a wreck, but George didn't think that could be attributed to his budding sickness anymore. His face was flushed, his pupils were blown, and based on the way he was huffing, George figured Dream was having a hard time catching his breath.

"My fucking god," Dream whispered under his breath, inviting himself into George's room. The first thing he did was head for George's bathroom, but George beat him to the door, closing it and pinning himself between it and Dream in the process.

Taking a bath might not have been incriminating, but the camera he had pointed at the bath- not to mention the several options of sex toys and lube he had laid out- definitely were.

"No way." Dream squinted at him, staring over George's head at the closed door, looking half lost in thought.

"You're making literally no sense, Dream. Are you… I thought you took some medicine to help your head so you could go to sleep?" George questioned, trying to formulate a direction for their conversation to go in.

"I did," he agreed, turning his gaze back down to George. "Then I got a notification I couldn't ignore."

"What notification?" George asked with his head tilted to one side. When Dream didn't answer, that was when everything started to make sense.

Terrifying, mortifying, humiliating sense.

"Oh," George said through an exhale, lowering his arms to his side. His heart was pounding and he had absolutely no idea how he was meant to proceed. Like, 'if you figured out I have an OnlyFans, why the fuck would you follow it?' or 'how long have you been paying to watch me get off?'

To make matters worse, Dream pulled out his phone, haphazardly typing out a rushed message before lowering it back to his side. George stared at him silently… but then his own phone vibrated in the pocket of his robe. His gaze morphed from confusion to concern, as he pulled the phone out.

Sitting on his lockscreen was a notification of a message waiting for him in his OnlyFans inbox.

A message from ClayBalls.

"Dream?" George questioned under his breath, looking up from up from the notification to meet Dream's eyes.

"It's you-" Dream said through an exhale, stepping closer. George was already pressed against the door, leaving him no place to run, while Dream crowded his space. George was already at a loss for words, so when it came to Dream tugging on the loose knot of his robe, there was nothing he could say before it fell open.

George was having a hard time with this- obviously. On one hand, he was still waiting to wake up from this nightmare- his own version of the 'going to school in your underwear' nightmare- where his best friend had watched him come more times than he could count. There was also the other side of things, the part where Dream wasn't just some random subscriber… he was Clay.

Dream's hands trembled where they gently tugged his robe open, hesitantly resting on his waist. He dragged his hands across the mesh material of his maid dress, the warmth of his palms transferring onto George's skin.

"I didn't buy you this," he mumbled, like his thoughts had escaped him.

"Why did you pretend to be someone else?" George asked, his own thoughts unable to be contained.

"I wasn't- at least, not any more than you did." Dream tilted his head to the side. George decided he wouldn't think about how badly he missed Dream's touch as soon as he pulled away. "I swear I- George, I had no idea GeorgeNotFound was you. Okay, I guess… I guess once you got here, I started noticing some, like, coincidences?" Dream shook his head, clearly not happy with his wording.

"I don't get it," George mumbled, his body still in some form of fight or flight. He'd yet to move away from the door, even though Dream had created an escape route for him.

"I don't even know how to explain this-" Dream groaned, beginning to pace around the room. Although George understood that moving with his body helped Dream's mind work through something, he couldn't help but feel more anxious watching him walk around.

"Start at the beginning," George requested, gaining at least enough brain power to wrap his robe around himself again.

That seemed to catch Dream's attention.

"Is that really- I mean… I've seen you in a lot more compromising outfits than that, George," Dream let out a low laugh. Part of George was humiliated, another part was turned on. "Sorry, that- ignore me, fuck," he groaned.

"Not George." He shook his head. "You've seen GeorgeNotFound like this. You haven't seen me- seen just George- like this before."

His stomach was beginning to hurt from the sudden wave of nerves, not to mention the fact Dream was still looking at him like he was a meal.

"This is so…" Dream trailed off, sitting on the edge of George's bed to bury his face in his palms. "I'm such a fucking idiot, like, I knew it was too good to be true."

"You're freaking me out, Dream," George admitted, stepping away from the door to stand in front of Dream. He had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, keeping the robe pinned shut this time.

"I made an OnlyFans account in 2020- not to post, but to like… watch," Dream started slowly, turning his attention to George. "I was starting to make decent money from YouTube, and I was trying to, I don't know, fill something- not, wait- that sounds bad. I don't mean-"

"Dream," George interrupted, refusing to let him spiral off on some tangent.

"Sorry," he whispered, looking up at George through his lashes. "There's just… there's something I need to tell you, but I'm afraid it's going to make things worse."

George didn't like that.

"Well- say it already," he rushed, whacking Dream in the arm.

"I swear I didn't know GeorgeNotFound was actually you… but I had been intentionally looking for creators who looked like you." Dream had his bottom lip worried between his teeth when he looked back up at George, like he was half expecting the light slap on his arm to be a hard slap to the face this time.

"Twinks?" George questioned with one raised eyebrow. Granted, it was a bit stereotypical, but he couldn't fault Dream for having a type. That would be hypocritical, considering George had gotten off more often than not this last year thinking about big hands and broad shoulders, loving the idea of a man towering over him- a man like Dream, specifically.

"Not just twinks," Dream let out a small but relieved sounding laugh. It was short lived, seeing that the nervous energy returned as soon as he continued. "Pale, dark hair, British accent, tiny waist… big ass… wide hips that you just want to grab and-"

It took a lot of strength for George to not ask him to finish that thought.

"That's a- uh- a pretty specific type you have," George answered awkwardly, praying that his growing hard on wasn't visible through his robe.

"You are what I wanted to have… but I knew I couldn't have you, so I thought if I found someone who at least looked like you, maybe I'd be satisfied." Dream sighed, still looking scared, but like he was ready to accept whatever punishment George was going to give him.

"And you… you got what you wanted, so that's why you- why Clay- disappeared?" George asked, feeling something akin to remorse growing in his system.

He'd spent the last year no longer able to ignore the budding feelings he had for Dream, whereas Dream had already gotten his fix and was over him back in 2020.

"What? No, that's not- no," Dream groaned, going back to burying his face in his hands. "I deactivated my OnlyFans because I was blowing up and my account had my real name in it, which- I guess yours does too… Maybe that was part of the reason I never actually thought it could be you, you know? Like, that's a bold ass move."

George wanted to feel relieved, but he couldn't. All this conversation had confirmed was that George was physically Dream's type. What George wanted from Dream was so much more than just physical.

"Well, when you post videos of you fucking yourself online, you have to be a little bold, Dream," George said with a slight taunt, like he couldn't help it.

"George," Dream groaned, inconspicuously placing his hands on his lap.

"So, what does this mean?" he asked, letting his arms fall to his sides in defeat. When Dream was completely unable to make eye contact anymore, that was when George remembered he never actually tied the robe shut again- it had been his crossed arms holding it in place. "Shit, sor-"

"Maybe this is what it means," Dream suggested quietly, gently nudging George's hand away from the fabric, placing both his hands on George's waist instead. George let himself be pulled forward, slowly straddling himself over Dream's thigh.

"And what's this? You… you just want to hook up with me now? Because it turns out I'm the OnlyFans creator you-"

"What?" Dream interrupted, pausing the drag of his hands up and down George's sides. George felt rather mortified, seeing that the off-put, hurt tone of voice he was using must've given away that he wanted more than to just sleep with Dream.

"Isn't this the fantasy, or whatever? Like, getting to fuck your favorite porn star?" George kept his gaze far from Dream's, wishing he didn't say anything at all.

"Fuck, okay- I must've really not made myself clear before," Dream said with a soft laugh, guiding George to sit fully on his thigh. George shuddered at the feeling of Dream's thigh flexing, finding himself struggling to not grind against him. Maybe there was something wrong with George, because all he was thinking about was how unlucky it was that today was the one day Dream went to bed in sweatpants instead of only his boxers. If Dream had stumbled into his room in nothing but his underwear, then it would be his bare thigh George was sitting on.

"All I've ever wanted is to be with you- like, for years, George." Dream squeezed his hips, and George wasn't sure if that was for emphasis, or to drive him mad. "I wanted more- to actually be with you- but I thought you just wanted to be friends. I needed… I needed some way to channel the desires I had for you in a way that wouldn't compromise our friendship. Don't get me wrong, I always thought GeorgeNotFound was hot as fuck, but that's because I was pretending he was you. It's you I wanted to give those gifts to, to tip for being good, to be the one sending me photos wearing the lingerie I bought for you…" Dream trailed off as he looked down, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth in a way that wasn't so worried looking this time.

Dream slid his hands down George's thighs, the skin on skin contact driving George a little more insane with each passing second.

"What gave me away though? Like… something must've happened that made you reactivate your account," George mumbled. Despite wanting an answer, he gave into the thoughts that told him to prop himself up on his knees and straddle Dream properly.

"I'd had my suspicions at times, I guess- like the time you called me Clay on stream. There was also the day you got your visa, but before you actually told me about it. It was the time you called me a bunch and I didn't answer. I didn't answer because I was fucking analyzing every GeorgeNotFound reuploaded video I could find, trying to compare him to you in a realistic way, instead of just the way I'd been fantasizing of him being you. Just when I had myself convinced you weren't the same person, during the call when you told me your visa came you… you started talking in this way that could turn the most innocent questions into something lewd. You asked me what I wanted to do to you when I saw you… I wanted to say the answer Clay would tell GeorgeNotFound. Pretty sure I almost said 'you sound like GeorgeNotFound' before I caught myself," he chuckled, reaching up to push the robe off of George's shoulders, letting it fall onto the floor with a small whoosh of air.

"Do you know why I sounded like that? Why I couldn't turn on my camera?" George asked, wrapping his arms around Dream's shoulders. Dream was staring at him like he couldn't believe this was real, and to be fair- George couldn't really believe it either.

"Nuh-uh." Dream shook his head, his eyes growing wide the closer George leaned in.

"I was touching myself on that call…" George admitted in a whisper directly into Dream's ear. He groaned deeply, his hands wrapping around George's waist with a bruising grip, which only drove him to continue. "When you told me to turn my camera on, all I wanted was to listen to you and let you see me with my legs spread, wearing your hoodie, and coming all over myself in it."

"George, what the- what the fuck?" Dream let his head fall back, and George enjoyed watching the nervous bob of his Adam's apple.

"You're not the only one with fantasies, Dream," George mumbled, crawling over Dream as he laid back in the bed. Dream was staring up at him like he was a god, descending down from heaven just for him.

"I'm… am I in those fantasies?" Dream asked hesitantly, resting his hands on the backs of George's thighs, while he stayed on all fours above him.

"You are the fantasies, idiot," George laughed softly, lowering himself down to his elbows, while Dream's eyes rolled back. "That call was months ago, but you didn't resubscribe to me until last week… what changed?" George sat back up and straddled Dream's hips, determined to get his answer before giving into both their desires.

"The reason I cracked-" Dream groaned, slipping his hands under the front of the sheer dress, clearly enjoying the view. "At first it was just the birthmark on your thigh. The first time I saw it, I thought- I don't know- it was just a weird coincidence and forgot about it. But the other day when I saw it in person for the first time… when I ran my fingers over it and you leaned back into my touch- fuck- all I thought of was how similar it looked to GeorgeNotFound doing the same thing. Then- holy shit, George- then you moaned and I was so sure."

Well, that cleared up any lingering doubts George had about worrying if Dream took a cold shower because he didn't want to be turned on. It also explained why George saw the subscription notification from ClayBalls later that very night.

"I downloaded OnlyFans and resubbed the night you moaned in my bed so I could see if his content had changed, but all the recent videos were in the same place as before- I thought I was going crazy! When I got the notification that there was a new upload, and I saw your bathroom- I sprinted straight here." Dream took in a deep breath, like he hadn't gotten enough oxygen throughout his monologue.

"You know you're gonna have to explain all that again, right? Like, when my mind is capable of thinking about anything other than getting you inside of me." George smiled, his eyes rolling back when Dream's hand reached his chest.

God, his one hand was large enough for his pinky and thumb to graze each of his nipples. George had imagined himself in this exact scenario with Dream too many times to count, but nothing compared to the real thing.

"Inside you how?" Dream asked, actually getting George to laugh.

"I'm sure you of all people are very familiar with the 'romantic anal' category on porn sites," George teased.

"That's a self callout, baby- you're the only porn I watch," Dream teased right back, dropping his voice. The small drawstring that went around the middle of the maid dress to accentuate his waist came untied, just as Dream flashed him another toothy smile.

"Then you should really know every single way I want you inside me." George reached down, nudging his hand at the waistband of Dream's sweatpants, thankfully getting his point across in a matter of seconds.

Once Dream's pants were shucked off to the floor, George was left sitting on top of a completely naked Dream, seeing that he didn't have a shirt on when he wandered into George's room in the first place.

"Please tell me you didn't prep yourself yet," Dream said with a heaving chest, his hands already traveling further behind George, spreading his cheeks.

"No, I was saving that for the camera," George smiled, looking back towards the bathroom. "Speaking of, um, cameras-"

"You wanna film us?" Dream interrupted, his eyes wide, but his breathing increased in pace and his dick tapped against George's ass with an excited twitch.

"Not what I was going to say, but uh, yeah. Yeah, I really want you to fuck me on camera." George couldn't help but grind against Dream's stomach, finding himself far more turned on than he expected at the thought.

Dream fucking him on camera meant George could see what Dream sees… he could see from every angle just how big Dream was compared to him… he could go back and rewatch the faces Dream made while-

"Gonna come on my chest, Georgie?" Dream asked in a taunt.

It wasn't until then that George realized he was still grinding against Dream's midsection, while Dream's hands held firmly onto his hips, guiding the motion of each roll. George let out a soft laugh, laying himself down on Dream's chest.

"Probably, but I'd prefer if that happened after your dick was in me," George murmured, inching his way up to kiss Dream's neck.

"Ah, fuck- wait, wait a sec…" Dream moaned, lulling his head to the side to give George full access. George's kisses switched to nips and soft bites when Dream's hand wandered to the space between his cheeks, and his fingers explored the area around his rim, prodding ever so slightly as his hole.

"Let me go film something for my subs real quick- real quick, I promise," George giggled when Dream immediately started whining, reaching out to keep George in his grasp a little longer. "You know, you could just come watch instead of moping about it."

"Can't or I'll come- fuck, I might come just thinking about it," Dream continued to whine, bucking his hips into the air when the weight of George sitting on him was gone. "Un-unless I prepped you for the subs? Yeah, if I'm eating you out, my face won't even be visible," Dream pleaded.

"You're not worried about people recognizing you? Like, your hair or groans?" George asked with a smile and squint, like he was sure he'd call Dream out on his bluff.

"I don't care, seriously- I don't." Dream shook his head, standing up from the bed, clearly ready to follow George into the bathroom.

"Yeah, you're definitely thinking with the wrong head right now. Sit down and I'll be back in a few minutes." George walked up to Dream, resting both his hands on his chest.

The second Dream's hands wrapped around his waist, and George could literally feel how close they were to fully encompassing him, he leaned forward and connected their lips. Honestly, his options were kiss Dream or drop to his knees, and kissing him wouldn't ruin his plans for what he wanted to do after he filmed.

Dream's kiss was a funny balance between soft and hungry, like Dream was desperately trying to savor their first kiss, while also falling victim to his own desires.

"I'll be ready for you once I'm back. Five minutes- you can time me," George said with a soft smile, breaking their kiss.

"I might be dead in five minutes," Dream complained, but let go of George and didn't dispute him heading to the bathroom this time.

To say George prepped himself in record time was an understatement. Even if it wasn't necessarily possible, it felt like his body had been prepping in its own way to take Dream as soon as he found himself pinned between Dream and the bathroom door. The lube was already warm from where it'd been sitting next to the steaming bath, his hole eagerly opened to his fingers, making George moan a little louder than normal- though, that may have had to do with the fact he wanted to make sure Dream could hear him from the bedroom.

"That's all I can do for you today, sorry," George whined, not wanting to stop, but also more than ready to get back to Dream. "And, uh, you might start seeing me with a partner in future videos- fair warning," George laughed softly.

He stroked himself slowly as he walked towards the camera, both as a freebie for the video and as a means to get a little relief.

The second the recording was over and he opened the bathroom door, Dream was already waiting on the other side, a visible sheen of sweat coating his skin.

"See? All d-" George broke off into a muffled laugh, while Dream leaned down and connected their lips again. Before he knew it, they were stumbling into the bathroom, until his back bumped into the countertop.

"Should I go get a condom? I'm clean, but if you want me-"

"Don't even think about it. There's a reason I've been filming solo all these years, you know." George pulled Dream right back in, kissing him until the thin fabric of his lingerie was being pulled over his head.

"Can I fuck you right here?" Dream whispered against his lips. "I want to see every expression you make in the mirror- want you to see it too."

George took that as an instruction, turning around so his back was to Dream and he could see their reflections in the mirror. God, forget recording Dream fucking him- George needed to see it happen in real time.

He arched his back with a gasp when Dream slid his hand down George's spine, not stopping until he reached George's entrance. The moan George let out at the feeling of just one of Dream's fingers slipping inside him was comparable to when he'd use two- maybe even three- of his own.

"Thought you said you'd be ready for me?" Dream mumbled against the back of his ear, sucking the skin of his neck between his teeth when George whined at a second finger joining his first.

"I am," George grumbled, afraid he just might come before actually getting Dream inside of him. Sure, he could go two rounds back to back, but that didn't change the fact all he wanted was to feel Dream thrusting inside of him when he came.

"Gonna have to at least let me do a third," Dream chuckled.

"A third?" George echoed back. He looked over his shoulder at Dream, only to find him already staring at him.

"Yes, a third," he repeated, guiding George's hand away from the edge of the counter and bringing it behind his back. George was sure his eyes went comically wide when he finally got his hand around Dream.

"You're gonna break me in half," George muttered, squeezing Dream at his base- both to drive him a little mad and because it was the only way he could actually get his fingers to touch. Dream thrusted his hips forward, grinding into George's tight fist.

"Pfft, I've seen you take bigger," Dream laughed, the hot puff of air that accompanied each exhale made goosebumps rise on George's back. "Pretty sure I've even bought you bigger."

"Can't tell you how many times I fucked myself with those toys, wishing they were you," George admitted, leaning down against the counter to rest on his forearms once Dream slowly pushed in his ring finger alongside his middle and pointer. The stretch burned in the best way possible, and George couldn't wait for the feeling of Dream's dick to be the next thing stretching him out.

"Me as in Dream, or me as in ClayBalls?" Dream asked with an amused laugh, slowly increasing the tempo of his fingers, alternating between using two and three, just to make George squirm.

"Dream," George said through a moan. "Even- even back when I rationalized it was Clay in the fantasies, it was always you in my head." Just as George opened his eyes, stealing a glance at Dream in the mirror, Dream leaned over him, retrieving the bottle of lube.

"God, you're really gonna fuck me," George mumbled, his thoughts escaping him.

"As long as you still want me to," Dream paused his motions, meeting George's gaze in their reflection. George smiled at him before shaking his head at Dream's idiocy.

"That was in the it's finally happening way, not the second guessing way." George rolled his eyes, but smiled up at Dream nonetheless.

"Good to know." Dream smirked at him and all George could focus on was the slick sound of Dream fucking into his lube-covered fist, coating himself with it. He shuddered, only to be met with the feeling of Dream grinding between his cheeks and reaching around to stroke him with the same lube-covered hand.

"Dream-"

"I've got you, I've got you, baby," Dream hummed, focusing his attention on the head of George's dick once he'd lined himself up. Any complaints George had about the extra prep were long gone, seeing that even just the press of Dream's tip was testing the limits of his stretch.

"More, please- nngh- more now," George gasped, trying his best to stay on his tiptoes, which was growing harder with each inch Dream sank inside him. There was no way he was in fully, but Dream pulled almost all the way out and started rocking forward again.

"You feel so good- feel amazing, George. Do you get that? Do you have any idea how badly I want to fuck into you as hard as I can?" Dream's voice got lower with every admission, making George's entire body tremble.

"Then do it." George glanced up, doing his best to antagonize Dream into doing exactly that- into fucking him so hard, Dream would be carrying him to his bed when they were done.

"I'm only halfway in, baby. Not gonna hurt you," Dream said though a mumble, pressing kisses up George's spine, while sinking in a little deeper. George moaned, letting his head fall to the counter again, as Dream chuckled against his neck.

"Sorry- ah!" George groaned, surging himself back until his ass slapped against Dream's hips, making Dream swear and sink his fingers into George's side with a bruising grasp. "Sorry- jus' needed more."

"Greedy," Dream muttered under his breath, his voice low and gravelly, making George shiver. "You're lucky you're so goddamn gorgeous."

"Yeah? You're lucky in general," George snickered over his shoulder, rolling his hips against Dream when he still refused to move.

"So the brat thing- that's how you actually are? Not just a show you put on?" Dream asked with a flustered smile and headshake, slowly working his way on pulling out, only to slam his hips forward, taking George's breath away.

"Y-you can't ex-expect me to answer when you do that," George stuttered, struggling to catch his breath.

"Kinda the point-" Dream repeated the same motion, pulling a high-pitched whine out of George. "Can't talk back when you're too busy moaning my name." Dream lowered his voice, not pulling out quite as far this time, but he didn't stop after the first thrust like he'd been doing.

"Not gonna- fuck, Dream- gonna hap- mmph- happen." George tried to get out his sentence as clear as he could, determined by sheer stubbornness alone that he wouldn't let Dream feel like a brat tamer on their first go around, but fuck it'd been way too long since George was actually fucked by a man.

"That's cute, baby. Now shh- shh, look up, you can do it-" he paused, lightly tugging on George's hair so he was forced to lift his head off the counter and could watch the way Dream was fucking him in the mirror. It was quite possibly the hottest thing George had ever seen. "There you go."

"S' good, Dr’m," George let out, while his entire body trembled. He didn't doubt that the only reason his ass was still in the air was because of Dream's firm hold on his hips. It was amazing how Dream could fuck him like he was nothing more than a toy he could use to chase his own pleasure, but it still felt so fucking good.

"I know you can come without any hands- gonna do that for me? Gonna come all over yourself just from taking my cock so well?" Dream asked, his words constantly interrupted by small grunts and moans.

"Mhm- yeah. Lil'- ah- lil' higher," George barely got out, attempting to push back onto his tiptoes. At the rate Dream was drilling into him, he might not even need to hit his prostate to make him come untouched.

"I know, baby- I've had your body memorized for years," Dream mumbled, slowing his quick and hard thrusts for long and dragged out rolls of his hips. "Also know the second I hit it, you're gonna come everywhere, so I got-gotta time it right."

"Wanna come," George whined, trying and failing again to push himself onto his tiptoes, making Dream laugh at his attempt this time.

"Fine- fine, you can come. Want me to make you come, George? Can you say please for me?" Dream asked, a daring tone mixing with his voice.

"Make me come," George said through gritted teeth, doing his best to glare at Dream in the mirror. It was kind of hard to glare while on the brink of an orgasm, though.

George didn't think his demand was actually going to work, but Dream hiked him up by his hips once he was fully buried inside him again. George moaned in pleasure, sure that he'd come on the next stroke of Dream's dick rubbing against his prostate.

"Still waiting on that please, sweetheart," Dream whispered, pushing in a little deeper when he leaned forward to kiss George's back again, making George whimper and moan from pleasure that was just barely not enough to make him come.

"Please- god fuck, Dream. Please make-" George couldn't even finish his sentence, because as soon as Dream heard what he'd been waiting for, he began fucking into George with a new sense of determination, like this was the pace he'd been wanting to go at from the beginning. With each hard and fast thrust, he perfectly hit George's prostate, making him come all over himself, just like Dream said he would.

"In- in- in me!" George begged, nearly falling to the floor when he rushed to push himself back onto Dream's dick after he started to pull out. The next thing George felt was the twitching pulsation of Dream's dick inside of him, followed by a warmth he'd never experienced before. The feeling of Dream's come filling him up was enough for his own spent dick to spurt out a couple more pathetic dribbles of cum.

"Fuck- that was- you're so- fuck, baby." Dream gave up trying to say an actual sentence, instead slumping over on top of George, while they both caught their breath leaning against the counter.

"Yeah- what you said," George agreed with a small laugh. He turned his head to the side Dream was on, smiling over at him. His smile was quickly replaced with a displeased gasp as soon as Dream pulled out of him.

"Let's get you in the bath, I'll clean you up," Dream whispered against George's lips, making it impossible for him to stay upset.

With ease, Dream helped George stand up straight and make his way to the bath. Dream leaned down to touch the water, appearing content with the temperature. With only a couple winces, George managed to sit in the tub and slump against the back wall. As soon as his eyes fluttered shut, Dream grazed the back of his fingers against his cheek.

It was delicate and gentle- the complete opposite of how Dream was just fucking him, but it was in the best way possible. Strong hands that could hold him by his hips and fuck him like a rag doll were the same ones that massaged his scalp with shampoo and apologized for every minuscule tangle they caught on.

Dream was his best of both worlds in just about every way imaginable.

Rough and soft, best friend and boyfriend, Clay and Dream.

He was everything George ever wanted.