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n0vation · 3 months ago

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Are you ugly? Quite the opposite. Salesman x reader

ㄨSUMMARY:Getting caught spying is probably the worst she could imagine, expect when the worst is looking down at her, wanting to play Russian Roulette .

ㄨ╰┈➤ˎˊ˗PAIRING: Salesman x fem!reader / Smut / Dark Content

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ TAGS/WARNINGS: kidnapping,sadism, blood/brief gore, blood kink, noncon/dubcon, sizekink?,manipulation, power imbalance, top!salesman x bottom!reader, p in v, choking, creampie.

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"Such a bounty on that man. That's weird. He doesn't look like this type of guy." You thought walking through the streets of Seoul.

4 zeros , no, 5 zeros, you don't even remember who much money will you win if you get information about him. Better, if you get him. But damn you're not a fighter, you just need to learn more about him and lure him to let his guard down before you become millionaire.

Now you were waiting on a corner counting the seconds.

3 , 2 ,1

The tall man came from a luxurious taxi, entering a bakery. He watches the bread, bending his head, his fuckass weird smile sticked on his face. How can someone be so creepy?

"Do not lose him, do not lose him.."

Your prayers seem to have been heard as your taxi catches up with his and arrives in a park. The scent of the grass tickling your nose before the smell of sweat and pee caught you. Homeless. The filth of society. The bottom of the hierarchy.

"I gave you a chance, and you made your choice. I'm not the one who threw these away. It's you, ladies and gentlemen!" He yelled, before stomping the breads in front of their shocked faces. His expression distorted by a deep hatred toward them. Costume readjusted and hair arranged, it seems like he never lashed out.

What is that? Are you feeling bad for them? Do you wanna go help them?

Oh, please! You're not different! If he had handed you a bit of money, you would have done way worse. Since when was your mind so corrupted? Empathy is a primary feeling, yet your brain could only tell you to catch up with the salesman. Your money.

You followed discreetly your jackpot.That, until he stops in the middle of a narrow street. You took some seconds to realize the situation before attempting to hide. Unsuccessfully. He grabs a good hold of your hair and pulls you toward him.

Silly you, nobody stop in the middle of a street unless it's for someone else. And you thought you could break free? He yanks you on his chest, feeling the hard features of his toned torso before sliding down his arm under your chin and locking your head. You feel his muscles clenching, pressing dangerously on your wind pipe, bringing you close to failing into Morpheus arms.

You grabbed your hidden knife, attempting to slice the arm choking you, but he caught you on the spot. "Too bad", you heard coming from him before feeling your eyelids getting heavier.

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Ropes digging through your sore arms and smoke of luxurious cigarette greets you while you regain consciousness. Classical music in the background matching the expensive furniture of the room.

Woke up, bakery, gross homeless, the salesman , ̸̠͕̮̔͆̍͋́̐͆͝/̴͍͖̲̄̅̏͆̀̇̊͝\̴̢̞̬̥̣͔̈́͂̈́̐̊̚͝/̶̯͔̝̘̥͚̼̹̪̟̬̬̀́̂͝͠ͅ\̵̡̛̛̳̥̱̱͑̾̾̆́͛̓͋̓̔̈|̶̱̙̜̲̩̲͇̜̭̹̯̬̰̌̎͊͝|̴̛̯̯̼̯͋̈͗̾͆̅/̶̩̫͖̻͓̪̣͊/̸̢̹̾̆͌̒́́͠\̸̯̓̒̃̈́̈́̿̒̋̏͂́̉̏̕͝|̴̢̯̲̱̗̤̖̠͈͒̋̇̿̾̆̇̔̀͘͠/̸̧̢̻͉̣̪̭͈͔̄͂́̈̃͂͑̓̍̾͑̓/̷̠͖̙̜͔̺̹̜͈̟̼̅̋̀͋̿̈̏̕͝ͅͅ\̷̙͈̥́̏̚|̶̙͇͇̜͂̃͑̐̈́̇̑\̵͙̭͓̩̣̯͉̏̎̎̕|̸͙̯̠̘̪̲̤̱͎̜̖͈̜́̉͜ͅ\̷̢̭̻̱̝̹̞̗̻͔̏͒͆|̵̨̖̣͗̃.

Then black out.

"You don't greet me?" He asks, bending to meet your eyes. How could you while your mouth was stuffed of whatever he tied around it.

"So? Are you a secret admirer or a spy?" He asks holding eyes contact with you. His features as soft and angelic as you saw them from far.

"Spy since you were armed." He stands, straight using his full height to look down at you.You watch him walk around the chair you were tied to.

"So that what they thought was my type? You were gathering information about me to get closer easier, right?" You feel his fingers grazes over your neck from behind. Going all the way up to mess with your hair. His touch was soft and apprehensive, almost romantic if you haven't noticed the gun on his other hand before.

"You're shy? You don't answer. Or maybe you're not confident enough to answer." He slides down the fabric over your mouth. Your cheeks meet with the cold barrel of the gun. Thrills spreads all the way down your neck upon hearing him shush you. The threat clear and understood.

"So, are you ugly?"

Sadistic and psychopathic traits, that was for sure. Overconfident and proud. The best answer was to show you're not scared and defy him.Maybe you could surpass him and gain respect.

"Quite the opposite" You said, your voice shaking a bit at the end , betraying your confident tone. He chuckled, his fingers resting over your head.

Then he pulled harshly your head back, put the gun under your chin as he bent over you, meeting your gaze.

"I like you. You're entertaining. I wanna play with you." He utters before sitting in front of you, flicking that annoying smirk.

Rich looking table, cigarette next to the ashtray and lighter, shiny cups of alcohol accompanying an expensive bottle. You could see your reflection on the glass table: marks all over your neck.

Your attention goes back to the man, humming the music.

"What about Russian Roulette? I will gladly risk my life along yours." He leans on the table, showing you the empty gun before filling it with one bullet.He then slaps it, making the cylinder roll and get in its place. The sound of the metal awaken your sense, and fasten your breath.

"He can't be serious. What if he dies? Yet..he has already done silly games with homless before.." You thought, your mind racing and survival instinct kicking in.

He then aims slowly at your head, his smiles widening.

"No reaction?" You were just frozen by fear. He leans over the table, his hand grabbing your wrist to lift it up, considering how the rope were only around your upper arms. You try to move away, but he only pouts, waving the gun.

"I wouldn't do that." He states firmly. He places the canon of the gun on the back of your hand ,counting to three.

"Hope you're lucky!" He said before firing the first shoot. You felt a horrible pain spreading into your hand as blood splashed both of your faces. You screamed at the combination of the pain and the sight of your right hand: your knuckles spreads apart by the hole formed of the shredded flesh and skin that was supposed to hold the pairs of fingers together.You cry at the blood flooding watching your tendons move grossly with the clenching of your exposed muscles ,dropping more blood at each movement like a sponge.

He let go off your hand, watching intensely your face contortion, making your tears roll messily on it. He paid attention to your moans of pain and shaky hand movements, terrifying for you and almost pornographic for him at how much he liked it.

"Unlucky I guess" He said, fascinated by your face.

"My turn." He says before faking taking a deep breath and aiming at his hand.She had already lost.He was safe.

He opens the cylinder again and fill it up one more time.

"Round two." He says, trying to catch your attention.You were too focused on the blood coming from your hand. He sighed before grabbing the fabric he used over your mouth and wrap it around it, clearly annoyed.

"I said Round two." He orders started to get angry. You meet his gaze once again, clearer now that it wasn't filled with tears.

Uneven eyes.

He smiles sadistically, playing with the aim of the gun. Forehead, neck, chest, stomach, tighs. He stops on the gun on it, smiling happily. He leans toward you, giving you a made-on-purpose sight through his blouse.

"Pray, you're unlucky" He mumbled , holding a laugh as he stays close, watching your widened eyes.He fires again, bullet piercing through your left thigh as you yelled.

He laughed watching you squirm, attempting something to stop the blood. He keeps laughing as he unties his black tie. You would have called it hot if you were emptyingfrom your blood. Drowning in your tears, you watch him raise your bleeding thighs to slide his tie under it. His fingers pressing the disgusting fat soft flesh close to the wound, making you wince. He then suddenly ties a knot on it, pulling a last scream from your throat. And stopping the bleeding.

"My turn." He says before leaning back on his seat and manspread aiming the gun on his inner thigh. He smiles psychotically before firing nothing.

"I won the two rounds." He states like nothing.

"Last roun-" He doesn't finish his sentence as you jump on him, attempting to grab his gun. He looks on the table startled at how could you break free.

The lighter is missing. And the faint scent of burned rope finally reach his nostrils.

"Fucking bitch-" He slurs as you catch the gun and pull it toward you difficulty with your exploded hand. He stumbles back on his chair, making both of you land on the overturned chair.You grip firmly on it, your life hanging on a thread. He crushes your hands under his and managed to be the one aiming it. Both of you roll over, ending up on him over you, pressing the gun firmly on the ground.You tried to yank it to you, but it just ends up in the weapon being thrown far from both of you. You felt something burn in your rib cage, feeling the hope running low and adrenaline mixing to fear. You roll under him, on your knees ,before dashing toward the gun.

"One last round." He said as he catches your ankles. If only the bullet in your thighs didn't stopped you from dashing further. His eyes squinting, distorted by the pleasure he took in watching the waves of despair over your face. You were laying flat ,held by his large hands.

He kept you there for a moment, feeling your small limbs shaking and eyes blurring as adrenaline ran away from you. Oh dear ,if you knew how much that aroused him. Having the upper hand over.

He then suddenly grabbed your wounded hand, throwing away the poor fabric over it before intertwining your bloody fingers with his. He leaded that right hand toward your left shoulder, letting his arm bend you down to arch and head look at him over you.

" How romantic." He mutters, pressing your fingers, parting your parted in half hand. You scream of pain, feeling the skin pulled apart as well as your fingers. That's when you looked at his face, a sadistic grin spread wide over it.

Uneven eyes.

"Let's do a more special round for you." He said appreciating how the sight of your back bend painfully turned him on as much as your warm blood trickling down his hand.

" If you cum before me, you're eliminated. And if you don't ..." He pauses, thinking of the best way to reward you. " I will patch you up"

You pleaded, begged, implored him not to. He just shushed you as he pulled your pants down, ignoring your cute attempts at squirming away.

After freeing his cock, he admired the sight. Bent back, bloody, pain all over your body.

"Cute" He muttered before placing himself between your legs and pushing his tip slowly in your small body. He kept quiet, hearing your sounds complementing the opera in the back. His two fav sounds, cello and pleadings coming from a broken voice.

He yanked your chest more, making your head rest back. He smiles at your reddened eyes and shaky lips. He pressed his fingers more,extracting a poor moan of you as he started moving. He filled you so deep, you felt like he was gonna tear you down one more time.

"Please, please" You repeated as all he did was watch your eye's reaction to him pushing a deep thrust in you, extracting a louder please. He laughs at your face, going back to his slow and romantic rhythm.

"Told you you were entertaining. You're so expressive, a gift from whoever hired you" He started pounding harder in you, watching your head move slightly every time he bottomed you.He bent toward you, admiring your fucked up eyes.He slowed down, watching relief regain your eyes . He then shoved forcefully, breaking that look on your face and making your chest jumps. Another forceful shove and that insatiable look on his face, appreciating your eyes widening and loud breathing of yours.

Again, no, this time he stops half way, watching your face stops half way too. He breaks in laughing loudly, throbbing in you so bad, feeling the hardest he has ever been in so long. He loved how a simple romantic move as pressing lightly your tangled fingers could get you to cry, giving you pleasure would destroy that hope in your eyes and how getting closer to you felt like hell for your back.

He then picked up a rough pace, his own breath getting louder than your moans.He looks straight into you, straight into your soul.

"You have pretty eyes." You started to struggle to keep your eyes open, feeling your lungs unable to give you the oxygen you needed. If only his biceps wasn't pressing on your breast. You move your shaky but free hand to push his lower away from you.

"No, no. None of us have lost yet." He states before giving you messier thrusts. If you listened carefully , you could hear his deep voice each time he hit that spot deep down who made your eyes cross. He pressed your chest more, starting to make you cough at the lack of oxygen.

" I-I give up...You won..." You managed to say without thinking of the consequences. All you could focus on was how good it felt each time he was deep into that spot. How his other hand on your waist was so fucking rough yet so fucking good. How full and pleasured you ever felt while he was corrupting your mind.

Was it the lack of air that fucked your brain or how good he fucked you that messed with your brain?

"Then you have to cum. Or you want me to make you? That's why you wanna get eliminated?" He says, looking straight into your eyes. Do you want him to? This question echoed in your brain, altering your way of thinking as much as the pleasure that stacked up into you.

"I ... Dunno..." You managed to say as your eyes rolled back, your body going limb. You passed away! That, until a harsh slap lands into your face, waking you up. That's for sure. The feeling of pain through your body soothed by the pleasure into your stretched inside greeted you with your tormentor handsome smile.

Uneven eyes.

"Wake up sweetie. I haven't lost yet." He said, slowing down his movements, feeling about to bust.

"Imma take your answer as a yes." He says, before cutting your breath again and picking up in pace and precision, hitting that spot again. Before you faint again due to the blood loose and choking ,he let goes of your hand.He watches your top fall heavily to the front, grabbing a painful hold in your head and shoving your face on the expensive carpet. He pounds in you, making you reach your climax as you stopped fighting, letting the pleasure sooth the pain.He thrust last deep shoves before filling you up.

He admires you're fucked up being as he pulled out, not restraining you anymore. Why? You were so sore. He was just admiring you again.

"I guess it's time to process to the elimination."

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your-nanas-house · 1 year ago

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An idea: Tommy has one of his recurring nightmares and YN decides to help him sleep by giving him a blowjob

Dunno who this anon is but I love this kind of ideas so much!! 🙇🏼‍♀️ So thank youuuu 🤗

Just another nightmare

◇ Pairing: Thomas Shelby x wife!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, handjob, choking, Tommy is a whore here and a sub... so bit ooc!Thomas, nightmare and PTSD and bad writing.

◇ Summary: Tommy wakes up from a nightmare and Y/n helps him calm down.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

"Tommy... Tommy—" her soft tired voice called as her hand shook him awake, bringing him back to reality and out of Morpheus's arms so to escape one of his reccuring nightmares.

Thomas never really talked about them with Y/n, preferring to just ignore them or ponder in silence while lighting a cigarette, instead of wasting her time by keeping her up with past crude memories... even though she offered her ear him each time.

"I'm okay" his low voice grumbled out in a dismissing tone, his body still sweating probably in state of shock as it trembled softly, joined by his fast heartbeat.

He wasn't okay, not at all... his mind was playing twisted games on him again and the past was heavier than usual during the night.

And she knew... but there wasn't much she could do if he didn't allow her to enter his mind to try, so to understand the problem better. The young woman kind of lost her patience, adopting a different approach when something like that happened when she was around.

The questioning and the oral support wasn't accepted from Thomas usually... he searched a more physical one even when there was a bit of hesitation at the beginning. But that night... it didn't seem like he would have calmed down with just some cuddles.

Reason because Y/n decided to try with a different physical and oral help.

So her tender hand traveled from his sweaty chest down to his abs and lower before sneaking inside his underwear, earning a shaky breath from Tommy.

The poor man was still a bit under shock, his body sweating cold, his heart hammering against his chest as his jaw remained clenched. Y/n could see his muscles since the moon reflected its light on them in a lovely way, allowing her to start a path of wet kisses from there.

Her beautiful eyes remained closed as her hand lazily pulled slightly down the fabric so to ease the access. Feeling his pre-cum leak on her warm skin when she accidentally brushed his angry red tip.

"Shhhh, everything is okay, love. You are here... in bed with your wife" the young woman started as she pumped his now hard lenght, using her spit to lubricate the action

"At your house in Birmingham... safe and sound... it's just you and me, honey" she purred softly out attempting to calm him down while her hand kept working. Her free one slowly moved Tommy's sweaty palm towards her so that she could place a kiss on his knuckles before sneaking it in the neckline of her nightgown.

As if by reflex, his rough hand grabbed her left breast, kneading it flesh while he felt her heartbeat against his skin.

Her tactic was working, his body was reacting at her touch and his mind was turning off, letting lust take over him... making his heart still beat fast but not due to fear or adrenaline caused by something awful but because of her small hands working his cock.

The feeling was getting intense and Thomas' eyes shot open as he slowly approached his orgasm, his muscles tensed and his back slightly arched while his hand moved away the blanket so that his icy stare could watch his wife work her magic.

The man could see his dick throbbing thanks to the attention and the familiar pre-orgasm feeling was getting more and more noticable. He could feel her soft fingers giving some attention to his balls as well before black dots formed in his view, making him roll his eyes and arch his back even more.

A whoring moan escaped his lips while he shot his seed, dirtying her hand and the sheets. He never came that hard before.

He could hear a whistle in his ear that covered the background noises in the room but not the breathless and impressed curse that left his wife's mouth.

Thomas was about to say something when she shifted, now wide awake, shutting him with her warm tongue which began to clean up the mess he did.

"You should react at my touch like this more often, love" the young woman commented smugly, gagging when he thrusted up his hips with a fake annoyed expression, so that his cock would have shut her up and removed that shit eating grin off her face.

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year ago

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Rainy Season - Morpheus x Reader

[Spoilers for Brief Lives I guess?]

[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]

SUMMARY: Fed up with Dream's stubborn and at times childish attitude, you leave Dreaming. But when Morpheus's sorrow makes itself known, Matthew has to fetch you before the kingdom completely floods.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k

It’s a tumultuous morning in the Dreaming. Even if none of the dreams and nightmares are privy to the ongoing feud, they know something is wrong. It’s as though the air in the kingdom, the marrow of their bones, turned bitter last night. Their skin is crawling but the sun is shining as it did yesterday. They birds chirp the same song they had throughout centuries. And yet, against their better judgment, something is terribly out of place.

To be honest, you don’t even remember how all of this started but the damage is already done.

A frustrated scream ripples through your chest, "The world doesn't revolve around you!" You're fuming. There's only so much patience one person can hold and recently, Morpheus had proven himself exceptional at trying to reach its limit until he, unfortunately, succeeded today. "For someone who's supposed to know every thought ever entertained, you sure can not look past the tip of your own nose."

His eyes, cold and hurt, stare at you in utter confusion. Dark eyebrows furrow. "I do not know what you're expecting of me,” he states in an angry voice. It appears that he really does not understand the reason for your outrage. "I am not human, I am unable to look at the world as you do."

Of course he says that, you think to yourself. It seems to be his favorite line of defense. Dream of the Endless is a strange, eldritch creature. He doesn’t comprehend the world like a mortal does and, or some reason, he treats this fact of nature as an excuse not to try. At first, you thought it charming - to see the universe through the eyes of a creature you can barely begin to understand. Who wouldn’t? The strange wonder of the man in front of you made you seek his company again and again. Truthfully, there’s something poetic about it: the reason you’ve come back to him so many times might be the very reason you bid him farewell. For good.

"Good news, then: you don't need a cardiovascular system to exercise empathy.” Your sarcastic tone has an effect on Morpheus. He frowns, hurt by your words, only to grow angry that he’s so affected. Dream’s pride makes him want to not be influenced by your bitterness. Alas, he cares more than he’s willing to admit. "Not everything is about you, Morpheus, and until you realize that, I don't think we've got more to talk about. Goodbye."

Even after you shut the door behind you, the word echoes through the castle. The stone walls seem to whisper it back to Morpheus, rubbing the salt in his wound. How strange it is - to be haunted by somebody still alive. To be the king of dreams and feel hopeless. It would be funny if it didn’t make him want to be unmade.

A thunder rolls. A blue lightning splits the sky in two. Despite the lovely weather in the morning, it starts to rain in the Dreaming.

The storm doesn’t stop after a few hours nor does it cease after a few days. Black clouds cover the sky as they did four days ago. The only change is in the water level: the kingdom is flooded. When everyone thought the rain is bound to stop soon, no one minded much the rising tide. However, when the situation only worsened with no evidence that it’s going to improve in the near future, worried voices started to reach Lucienne. If the storm doesn’t cease in the next day or two, some parts of the Dreaming will share the fate of Atlantis.

If Morpheus knew he was being observed, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he doesn’t feel up for another confrontation. In any event, he remains still, standing against the balcony reiling, as his friends begin plotting:

"How is he?" Matthew whispers to Lucienne. "Has he moved from there at all? Ate something? Said anything?"

"That's three 'no's, I'm afraid,” she answers slowly. The librarian lets out a heavy sigh. "He's just dramatically standing there, wallowing in pity."

Dream really is 'just standing there’. Drenched. His hair and clothes are stuck to his pasty skin. It can’t be comfortable but it would appear that matters other than cosiness are on his mind at the moment. For the past few days, ever since you left, he hasn’t moved even a quarter of an inch. Truthfully, he looks about as alive as a marble statue, if monuments could appear excruciatingly miserable.

"Should we do something?" The raven continues. What he really wants to ask is 'What should we do?’ but Lucienne seems to catch the undertone of his words nonetheless.

"You could ask her to come back but no guarantee she'll want to,” she thinks out loud. "They've fought before but this time she looked really defeated."

Morpheus, although doesn’t need to breathe, sighs loudly. As he exhales, another lightning tears the sky apart.

"Alright, I'll try to convince her to talk to him again,” Matthew states. His worried voice makes him sound determined to have the two of you reconcile. "Hopefully, we'll be back before you need a canoe."

Lucienne doesn’t respond. As much as she doesn’t want to admit to her pessimism, she knows better than to have much hope in the matter of Dream’s love life.

Repetitive tapping on the window diverts your attention from the dishes you were washing. Seeing the black bird sitting on the outside windowsill, you quickly wipe your hands against the dishrag and jog to open the window.

"Matthew?" you ask in surprise.

He wastes no time pleading his case in a plaintive tone. "You gotta go back to him. Everything's gone to shit."

You furrow your eyebrows. Leaning against the wall, you cross your arms on your chest. "What do you mean?"

The raven hops closer to you. "It's been pouring nonstop since you left. He's just standing there, soaking wet and he won't talk to anyone."

It might sound sadistic but it’s a nice thought that he’s grieving your departure so severely. For what it’s worth, it means he’s not as blase as he likes to appear. Perhaps, Morpheus cares about you more than you’re even aware of.

"How bad is it?" you ask warily.

"How bad?!" Matthew screeches. "The House of Mysteries is so flooded, Abel is fishing."

It sounds like 'bad' is nothing more than an elegant euphemism. In his heartache, Morpheus is willing to let Dreaming decay and fall into partial ruin. If your accusation had been correct and Dream of the Endless truly is unable to care about anyone but himself, such a disaster would never have happened. A selfish ruler wouldn’t let his realm turn to rubble because of a broken heart. And if you’re more important than what he calls home, then…

"I'm assuming that's not a usual feature,” you give the raven a half-hearted response. The thoughts inside your head are in a painful turmoil, trying to lift the truth out of the indications.

"Yeah," he answers sarcastically.

Matthew glares at you in anticipation. Perplexed, you rub your arm without thinking much about it. Right, it's the mature and responsible thing to do but at the same time, why do you have to be the one to cave in every time you two fall out? If Morpheus cares for you as much as his dramatic show of pain and grief would suggest, shouldn’t it be him travelling across world and realms to reach you?

The raven cocks his head. Something about the look in his eyes changes as though his frustration has faded away or grown into desperation if not powerlessness. He’s tired and out of options.

"Alright, let's go," you say with a sigh. "But no promises. I still have pride and self-respect and he's still a stubborn..." you take a deep breath, "nevermind. Let's just go."

Miserable.

That's the only word that comes to your mind as you stare at him from afar. One would think that an entity of his sort can not be or look miserable but maybe this world is even stranger than you've thought. His clothes are drenched to the point of being see-through. Dark, once-tussled hair is now stuck to his face and neck. Dream's body looks even more stringy as his head is hanging low between his shoulders.

The rain is almost deafening. Your cautious, hesitant footsteps shouldn't be audible and yet Morpheus turns around to look at you when you come closer.

"I didn't think you'd come back," he says in a low, groggy voice. Dream's eyes, once blue and cold, are now red and unsettlingly vacant. Has he been crying? "What do you want?"

You take a deep breath. It was vain to expect him to welcome you with open arms. An eldritch being with a bruised ego and a broken heart could never make for a hospitable host. Even to those whom he misses the most.

"I still stand by what I said, it's just..." you hang your voice for a moment to find the proper words. Seeing him so broken by your fight makes some part of you want to renounce everything that lead to your argument. Anything just for him to be alright again. But the more reasonable side of you knows that such an action would only hurt both of you in the long run. "I admit, I could have said it in a more civilized way. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that harshness."

His gaze falls and Morpheus looks away for a moment.

Whether he's doing it consciously or not, the rainstorm ceases. Black clouds slowly drift away to uncover a clear, blue sky. Somewhere in the West, if there are cardinal directions in Dreaming, the sun is beginning to set. Despite the significant improvement, the air remains cold. A harsh wind nips at your drenched form. In a vain attempt to shield yourself from the discomfort of the weather, you put your arms around your torso. Still, your body trembles.

"Perhaps I should have put more effort into understanding your concern. I'm..." he turns silent for a second. His lips are apart but no sound is coming out of his mouth. Dream's hurt gaze meets yours. "Sorry," he whispers finally. Despite his voice being hardly audible, the weight of his confession is almost deafening.

"There's one more thing, Morpheus."

Those sad blue eyes stare at you in anticipation. The misery on his face makes you think that he's expecting to have his heart broken again, instead of mended.

A couple of grey clouds reappear above your heads. Oh no.

"I'm tired of always being the one to reach out," you confess. His gaze is too intense and you quickly look away from him. There's much on his mind. "No matter who's right or wrong, it's me who bridges the gap between us. Even if that angers me, I still do it. Every time. And I don't know what that says about me."

Your body trembles again but this time it doesn't go unnoticed by Morpheus. He, quite literally, pulls a coat out of thin air. Dream's movements are almost fearful as he cautiously places the garment around your shoulders.

"Perhaps in certain aspects, you are better than me," he answers quietly while fixing the coat to fit you better.

You know you're pushing your luck when you look at him again and ask a not-so-innocent question:

"You mean a 'better person'?"

"I'm not-" He bites his tongue just in time. Morpheus is not a person. Both of you are perfectly aware of it. But it was the mention of this very fact that had brought such disastrous rain to Dreaming. "Yes. A better person."

There's not much conviction in his words but there is, however, a silent promise to find it.

______

Now that I’m in mourning, I thought it fitting to finish reading "Brief Lives" and the bittersweetness of it felt all the more pronounced. Reading it prompted me to rewatch the show and long story short I’m kind of back in my Sandman feels.

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mantizimus · 6 months ago

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Now hear me out on this one, how about a Zuko x Wife! Female! Reader one shot? It's set after he became the fire lord, basically reader met him in s1 and was basically this absolute badass, no filter and brutal girl who always showed clear disgust at the thought of intercourse or pregnancy, while also disliking kids and feeling like she won't be a good mother because she didn't have a good one either, but after a while into the marriage thought it over and at how Zuko needed an heir so one day while they're just doing their things she just randomly say : "You know I thought about it and I may tolerate a kid or two."

I hope I hadn't botched it.

Kids

Zuko

One of the things that Zuko would never forget was the first time he met you. And honestly, who could blame him? You were strong, tough, and fierce, with no filter. He was absolutely fascinated by you, even though he hid it until the last minute, because he knew you could use it. And imagine his surprise when he later found out that you loved him too. During the time you were together, the prince of the Fire Nation had talked to you about your future more than once. For the most part, you were more than happy to discuss it with him, except for one cute little detail. Kids. You had a less than ideal childhood, which left its mark on your psyche. You were afraid that you would be a terrible mother, which is why you decided to never have children. To be honest, Zuko himself had caught himself thinking the same thing a few times, but he preferred to ignore it or push it into the back of his mind. The Firebender knew that sooner or later you would have to discuss this, but unfortunately, he never got the chance to do so. And when he did, he had no idea how to start the conversation. "What are you thinking about?" you asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Oh, nothing," the prince began to evade the question, but deflated when he noticed your gaze. "Zuko," you sighed, "You do realize that if the situation requires it, I will always listen to you, right?" "I understand. There is just one topic that I have always wanted to discuss with you, but I do not know how." "Is it kids?" at times like these, Zuko could swear that you could read minds. "Yes," he replied. Without giving you time to say a word, he continued, "Look, I understand that you're nervous about this and afraid of ending up just like your parents," the Firebender pulled you close, "But I promise you, Y/N: I'll do everything in my power to make sure you don't end up like that." "And how do you know it will work?" your voice wavered, but only for a split second, which didn't go unnoticed. "Because I believe it. And that you'll be a good mother," there was silence. A sticky, unnerving silence. "I need to think about it," you muttered, slowly moving away from him. He only nodded in understanding.

---

You didn't bring it up for the rest of the day, but the black-haired man decided to give you as much time as you needed. He didn't want you to make a decision under pressure. However, by the time the two of you went to bed, the thought had completely left his head… but not yours.

You spent the entire day thinking. On the one hand, your phobia kept rearing its ugly head, reminding you of your parents' mistakes. On the other hand, you knew that your husband was telling the truth and that he would help you no matter what. Finally, it was time for bed. Before you fell into the arms of Morpheus, you smiled. The decision was made.

---

"You know, I thought about it, and I may tolerate a kid or two," if your husband had been drinking something at the time, he would have spat it out right away. "What?" Zuko asked you, confused. "I agree," you explained. He looked at you in complete confusion for the first few seconds before remembering your conversation last night. "Okay," he told you. "And thank you." "For what?" "For letting him know you'll always be there for me," and with that, you pulled him in for a kiss.

#avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender x reader #atla #atla x reader #zuko #zuko x reader

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alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r · 1 year ago

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Morpheus confesses

Morpheus was in his throne room doing his best to fix the dreaming or at least that's what he told himself. In fact the dreaming had already been fixed; he was just busying himself from thinking.

About her.

His human.

The one thing that was out of his control.

She felt her heart racing as Morpheus moved his body against hers. His touch was gentle and passionate, a perfect mix of intensity and tenderness. He caressed her body, his hands exploring her curves as he moved in slow, sensuous circles. His touch sent electric shocks of pleasure through her body, igniting a spark of desire within her.

She moaned in pleasure as Morpheus's hands moved lower, exploring her most intimate of areas. He teased her with gentle strokes, his fingers tracing circles around her sweet spot. The pleasure built within her, and Y/N's breathing grew faster as Morpheus's touch intensified.

Suddenly it stopped. She was in bed, alone.

“What the absolute hell,” Y/n felt her thighs clench together, her breathing shallow and her legs felt numb.

“My apologies,” y/n’s neck snapped to find the dream lord at the door, closing it.

“What? I-”

“Ever since you came to the dreaming,” He paused as though weighing his words. “My powers have been a little out of my control,”

“Were you really here,” Was she really about to have sex with this man

“No, that was a shade or a dream figure if you will” he seemed to avoid her eyes as he spoke looking intently at the chair in the corner.

“But it was…”

“Real as a dream can be, yes” His replies were short and curt. Although there was a subtle blush on his cheeks. “You are in the dreaming of course, again i apologies, I-"

"Is that why you've been ignoring me," it seemed as though he didn’t count on your question as he looked over at you or well in your direction but his eyes weren’t on you, the moon lighting up a part of his face. He was ethereal in every light.

“Yes, it has.” You remained silent as he stood there. “Is that all of your questions,’ his voice soft and alluring.

“I um, if my presence had been affecting you, why am I still here?” His eyes left yours as he contemplated the question.

“I do not know,” He made no motion to sit down, he just stood there, “Do you wish to leave?”

“My answer depends on your comfort Morpheus, if you feel my presence is revolting-”

“But it is not,” He pauses again. “It’s like a breath of fresh air in a room filled with stale air,”

“Then why won’t you look at me?” Morpheus glances at you and the light shade of pink on his face deepens

“Starlight, you are not decent,” you look in the mirror near your bed and you notice, your mess of hair, your nightgown, ridden up your thighs, the sheets a mess.

“I do look quite a mess bu-”

“It’s not that you don’t look a mess, it’s that fact I’m not the one who messed you up,” a small gasp escaped your mouth. “I’m not the one who’s made you clench your legs, I’m not the one who made you-” he stops. “It was rather a mere shade.”

“Morpheus,” you whisper out.

“Tell me to leave,” he says abruptly.

“What?”

“Tell me to leave, tell me to close the door on the way out,” Morpheus looks at the window. “Tell me you don’t want me to be here,” you don’t say anything as you get out of the bed. You don’t stop until you’re right in front of him.

“Morpheus, I want you to stay,” you move closer as Morpheus moved back a step.

“Starlight…” he hadn’t called her that in a long time. “I can’t”

“Why,”

“None of my past courtships have ever been successful, and I wish not to ruin what little we have,”

“Morpheus,” You reached up and place your hand on his chest feeling his heartbeat. “For an endless you’re heart beats rather quickly,’

“Starlight I-” Want to see where this goes? Want to know whether you can actually stay or not, want to know whether I want to kiss you or not

“Can I kiss you,” his voice is down to a whisper. “Please,”

“I’d like that,” One of his rare smiles peak throught and he kiss you, it’s soft and slow. His hands snaked your waist bringing you in closer and holding you steady.

“Can we do this for all eternity,”

“Yes”

#morpheus x you smut #morpheus x black reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus smut #morpheus #lord morpheus #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #morpheus fanfiction #Morpheus fanfic

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wastingmylifesecondatatime · 9 months ago

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UPDATE: 30.07.2024

NOTE: You can find other masterlists in my mother masterlist

I have updated the following masterlists:

Marauders Era Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Golden Trio Era (Slytherin) - One Shots/Drabbles

Sandman - Series

Sandman - One Shots/Drabbles

Bucky Barnes Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Avengers Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Avatar: The Last Airbender Masterlist - Zuko - One Shots/Drabbles

Avatar: The Last Airbender Masterlist - Zuko - Series

Golden Trio Era (Slytherin) - Series

Genshin Impact Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Avatar: The Last Airbender Masterlist - Gaang - One Shots/Drabbles

Criminal Minds Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Bucky Barnes Masterlist - Series

Min Yoongi Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Avatar Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

OT7 Masterlist - In Progress

OT7 Masterlist - Completed Series

Cillian Murphy and his Characters Masterlist - One Shot/Drabbles

Moon Knight Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

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pocketjoong · 1 year ago

Text

❥𓂃𓏧WHAT IS A SOULMATE?

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): You and Seonghwa go on a trip across Europe and you use this as an excuse to make a little birthday video for him. But on the day of his birthday, Seonghwa feels nothing but grief as he watches the video you made for him.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!Seonghwa x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): fluff. angst. meet-cute. nsfw.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) NSFW! MINORS DNI. oral. fingering. unprotected sex (it’s a big no guys, please use protection and stay safe). pet names (mc is called dove). mentions of food. allusions to and mentions of a serious accident. angst. fluff.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 4.3k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) @pyeonghongrie-main :) Here's the promised reupload hehehe

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

London

Outside the confines of your hotel room, silence blankets the city much like the fog that hangs overhead. The first light of dawn is yet to break through the ink-black sky as the metropolis cradles its inhabitants in the silence of the night. This part of the city is still asleep, each soul embraced by the arms of Morpheus, awaiting daybreak to rouse them from their slumber.

Your gaze fixates on the horizon from between the sheer curtains. A pang of anticipation stirs within you, for out of all the alluring sights of nature, sunrise has always been your favourite. After all, regardless of wherever you are in the world, the sunrise is the only constant in the transient nature of life.

Today, however, as the dark black of the night fades to inky blue and splashes of pinks and purples bloom in the east, the only sight you focus on are his eyes. Seonghwa’s eyes are brighter than any galaxy and softer than the cherry blossoms that have begun blossoming on the tree just beyond the terrace. In that moment, you are happy to forego the sight of the beautiful sunrise to watch the coffee and hazel in his eyes melt to form the most gorgeous shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

It won’t be an exaggeration to say that sometimes, you feel like all of your life—each second, each breath, and each step—amounts to Seonghwa. Every decision you have ever made has been a stepping stone in your journey to meet him that one day six years ago when he was only a trainee.

Close to dawn, you had been wandering through the streets of Seoul to find a spark of inspiration for your first-ever project as a photography major. You knew you wanted to play with the idea of light and dark meeting together to form the most beautiful of sights, and what was a better time to do so than twilight?

So there you were, braving the winter chill for a decent grade while your friends were sleeping soundly, snuggled up in their warm beds.

But it seemed that fate had other plans for you that morning. You took a sip of the coffee you’d bought from the only cafe open at this ungodly hour, forgetting for a moment that it was piping hot. With a wince, you glared at the beige paper cup as if the liquid energy had personally done something to spite you.

A snicker caught your attention, and you turned around to narrow your eyes at the person, only to freeze in your tracks. Wearing a brown, fuzzy coat coupled with dark skinny jeans, the male looked like an angel sent from heaven. The thought that he was a hallucination of your sleep-deprived and cold body crossed your mind, but you discarded the thought when he realised that you’d heard him, and he scrambled to apologise for laughing.

You didn’t know then, but your life was for him. And, it won’t be an exaggeration to say that your life is all him. As winter melted into spring and spring made way for summer, you fell in love with the colour brown: the lush cocoa of Seonghwa’s eyes, sweeter than any hot chocolate you could find, and the tan of his skin, reminiscent of the buttery sweetness of roasted chestnuts. As the weather became humid and the days turned longer, you didn’t even register the beginnings of love taking root in your heart.

It began slowly, like the dripping of water from a tap. Drop by drop, your heart filled with adoration for him. Starting with an appreciation for the awe with which he experienced the world as if doing so for the first time. Then, it became more serious: you found yourself yearning to be around him, to listen to him talk about anything and everything, to be the only one he’d think of as being worthy of his heart.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you fell for his voice, a deep baritone with the consistency of honey that you couldn’t get enough of. And the best part? You got to hear it every day before sunrise, for that was his designated time for you in his busy schedule as a trainee and then later as an idol. Dawn was yours, had always been yours, and would always be yours as long as Seonghwa was beside you.

And so, without your knowledge, you fell in love with him bit by bit. You fell as if falling under a spell you couldn’t find a counter for. Not that you wanted to anyway, not when he was there to catch you.

A year later when spring arrived, love and hope sprouted in your heart when Seonghwa’s lips pressed against yours for the first time under the cherry blossoms. He etched himself into the deepest crevices of your soul and your heart. His touch was like that of the sun against your skin after a dark night, igniting your soul in a way that reminded you of fireworks. Under the light of dawn, as he kissed you, you learned a truth. Like the sunrise, Seonghwa is the only constant in your life.

“What are you thinking about?” His soft whisper pulls you out of your reminiscing, and you find yourself gazing into his wide eyes that are brimming with affection and curiosity.

Even after years of being with Seonghwa, the way he looks at you as if you are the one who hung the moon in the sky always floors you. Your skin tingles at the warmth and adoration in his gaze.

“You,” lost in way his thumb grazes against your waist, the word slips out of your lips without a second thought. You almost curse at yourself for being so taken with him when you see a devilish smirk pull at his lips.

“Is that so, my dove?” Chuckling, he lets himself get closer to you, if that’s even possible, considering how you’re basically pressed against him. His hands rise to cup your face, drawing you to his lips.

You lose yourself in the warmth of his mouth. His kisses are softer at first, but soon, his lips are moving insistently against yours. His teeth sink gently into your bottom lip, and he swallows the moan that leaves you almost hungrily. Seonghwa’s hand slides up the side of your body to slide your nightgown off you, exposing you to the chilly morning air.

He pulls back from you momentarily, the loss making you whine, but the protest dies in your throat when he gazes at you with nothing but love and adoration. In what little light filters through the sheer curtains, he looks ethereal with his glowing bronze skin. His dark hair is messy, and yet he manages to look as if he’d just stepped out of the pages of a manhwa. As if knowing what’s going through your head, a soft smile pulls at his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he breathes, voice thick with sleep and desire.

“Like what?” You ask, your own hands finding purchase against his shoulders.

“Like I’m the damn sunrise.”

“You’re more breathtaking than any sunrise I’ve ever seen, Hwa,” you cradle his cheek in your palm, words ringing with sincerity as you gaze at your boyfriend.

Seonghwa ducks down at your words, hiding his face in your neck as you chuckle at the way he reacts to your compliment. Your amusement doesn’t last long, however, when he leans down further to lave his tongue against the marks his teeth had left against the column of your neck the night before. His teeth sink into your skin, cutting you off mid-laughter, while his palms come to cup your exposed breasts, and you find yourself arching into his touch.

You watch Seonghwa descend the length of your body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips can reach. His hands slither downwards, fingers digging into your thighs to spread your legs open for him. Bringing his mouth to your core, he smirks when you let out a broken moan, bucking into his mouth. Seoghwa keeps his eyes on you as he devours you.

“Hwa—” you choke back a moan, reaching for him with a trembling hand. You pull him to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Want you. Please.”

“My beautiful dove.” Seonghwa breathes reverently. His hands are gentle against your waist, cradling you close to him while his lips trace their way up your jaw to meet yours in a sloppy kiss.

As the sun rises over the Thames River, he ravishes you with a gentleness that feels like the first touch of warmth of the morning light.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Madrid

“Are you recording me?” Seonghwa laughs, walking backwards on the sidewalk as you fumble with the camera—it’s heavier than what you’re used to—but you don’t mind because you’re more concerned about the quality of the video than anything else.

You can’t help but grin at the sight in front of you: Seonghwa in a beret and a long, dark coat that he has paired with jeans contrasts so well with the potted geraniums in front of the restaurant you had stopped to get breakfast at. The flowers herald the happiness blossoming in your chest at the sight of your lover glowing like the sun while surrounded by the the tell-tale signs of the approaching spring.

Seonghwa jokes that these flowers are blooming because it is his first time visiting Europe with you. You laugh off his silly comment, but in your heart of hearts, you can’t help but agree with him. It’s almost as if nature wants you to document the most beautiful sights while you record Seonghwa in the cities you are visiting.

Before you can answer him, something catches his eyes, and before you know it, he is dragging you to a toy store he has spotted on the other side of the road. His smile as he eagerly scours the store for something to buy reminds you of sunlight upon the tides, bright and blinding as the sun itself on the waves that lap gently at the shore.

Seonghwa makes his way to the sunglasses, trying on the goofiest ones, making you giggle. Encouraged by your laughter, he continues to make a fool of himself, pulling funny expressions for the camera and not caring if people are giving him funny looks. At one point, he tries the poison green alien sunglasses, and despite you laughing at how atrocious the design is, you can’t help but think how easily he can pull off even the most ridiculous of accessories with grace.

Behind him, you spot something that makes you gasp, and you rush to the shelves to grab one of the Toothless plushies. Turning around with purpose, you’re caught off guard by how close Seonghwa is, but you don’t let it faze you.

“Look, Hwa! I found you on the shelf,” you giggle at him, holding the plushie up so that it lines up with his face.

He rolls his eyes fondly, used to such jokes by the rest of ATEEZ and his fans. Despite that, he takes the plushie from your hands and puts it on his head, allowing you to capture him with ease. His touch is careful as he holds the plushie, similar to how he handles everything he lays his hands on. Delicate and light, he touches everything he comes across with care, and that’s one of the reasons you find him endearing—for he’s one of the few people who truly take the time to appreciate the beauty the world has to offer.

“If I’m Toothless, doesn’t that mean you’re my Light Fury?” You watch the way his eyes scan the shelves for something.

“I guess,” you shrug, chuckling as you help him in his search for a plushie of the said dragon.

“Do you think we should buy these?” Seonghwa asks, interrupting your search, and you turn to find him holding up the two plushies. He glances at the two stuffed toys—Toothless and the Light Fury—with his eyes furrowed as he weighs the pros and cons of buying both.

“You have multitudes of these back home, Hwa.” You remind him, in fact, he has so many plushies and figurines that he had to store some in your apartment because his manager had threatened that he would throw them out if he saw one more of the HTTYD-themed merch.

“But—”

“Hwa.”

“Fine, break my heart, why don’t you?” And with a pout, he places them back on the shelf reluctantly. You know he’s joking because when you gesture towards the plushies later on, he shakes his head with a smile.

Throughout the day, you explore the city with him, telling him everything you had learned about the places from the little tourist booklet you had snagged from the hotel that morning. He listens to you earnestly, watching you talk with a smile as admiration settles under his skin.

Later in the night, you find yourself in a cafe. Taking a deep breath, you inhale the scent of coffee that permeates your immediate surroundings. Since the cafe is basically empty at this time of the night, a sense of tranquillity surrounds you, much like the warm coat Seonghwa has draped over you. You watch late stragglers making their way home from their jobs through the window you’re seated against, hands curled against a warm cup of hazelnut latte.

“Dove,” Seonghwa’s quiet voice comes from next to you, causing you to snuggle into his shoulder, humming for him to continue. “Don’t fall asleep. We have to walk back to the hotel.”

“Shall we leave, then?” Stifling a yawn, you ask, causing him to nod.

He leads you out of the cafe, keeping his hand on your lower back as you walk through the sparsely populated streets. The very next moment, however, it begins to rain out of nowhere, and before you know it, you are being drenched in the downpour.

Seonghwa laughs in surprise but turns his face upwards to allow the raindrops to kiss his cheeks. Even though the world is blurred around you and your vision is warped by the drops in your eyes, you can still see him clearly. He basks in the rain, lets himself get drenched by the droplets cascading down his face, neck, and shoulders. The rain is so heavy that the raindrops make streams as they make their way down his body.

Watching him like this, you find yourself reaching out for him. As if on the same wavelength as you, Seonghwa takes your hand in his, lips curling up in a smile when you entangle your fingers with his. Reaching out, he cups your face gently, and it seems as if the world stops around you, your senses failing to register anything beyond his touch. Seonghwa trails his thumb along your lips, wiping the raindrops that have settled across your skin.

Drenched in the downpour with him, it’s easy to think of Seonghwa as the rain and yourself as the earth that craves rain after a dry spell.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Seoul

The wallpaper drips with grief, mimicking the gloom that has taken root in his heart and doesn’t seem to want to leave. The glow of the streetlights filters through the windows and is the only source of light in his dark room. In the centre of the whirlpool of dread and darkness lies Seonghwa, curled up against the messy sheets he can’t bother to straighten.

The silence is uncanny. He’s not used to it—for years, he has shared a room with Hongjoong, and even though, more often than not, the younger male wasn’t actually there because he preferred the studio or the living room couch to the bedroom, the mere idea of sharing a room with someone always made him feel at ease. Hongjoong has been Seonghwa’s anchor in the years he roomed with him, but now alone in his room, the walls seem to press in around him like waves trying to drown him, leaving him breathless.

If Hongjoong is his anchor, you are his beacon, his guiding light, his polestar. And tonight, as his ship is battered by the biggest storm he’s ever faced, you aren’t here either. Desperately, he searches for something to ground him, but too many days and nights filled with sorrow and false optimism have built up and around him, crushing him with a weight he can’t handle anymore. When love wasn’t enough to save you, how can it be enough to help him stay afloat in the rough seas?

Outside of his room, spring touches everything with its delicate hands. For Seonghwa, however, winter still lingers, and the beautiful weather outside just irks him further. He hasn’t been in love for the last week, and even nature cannot revive him this time around. Without love in his heart, the only thing he feels is despair.

Even now, he can’t forget the way red painted his hands as you lay in his arms. Sometimes, when he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough, he can see your smile. In the very same moment, his heart opens and breaks when the image of you in his arms dances across his vision, and he dies again and again, bleeds until there’s only a shell left behind.

The beeping of his digital clock startles him. The digits read 00:00, distorted from the tears that line his lashes but never seem to fall. For a long time, he had thought today would make the pain bearable, but it persists, lingering in his heart and his room like stubborn rain clouds that linger even after the storm has passed. It is possible that you may not return to him, but he tries to remain optimistic. If he doesn’t believe you to be strong enough to fight for him, for your love, then who will?

His phone dings, and he looks at the device for a moment. Each beep of his phone has, till now, started him into a sitting position, and every time, it has not what he expected. But foolishly, he still hopes for a miracle.

His phone dinging again with the custom notification he had set for you has Seonghwa scrambling to check his phone. It’s a scheduled email, but your name lighting up the screen renders him breathless. At the sight of your name, the storm raging around him quietens down, leaving him in calm seas. There’s a video attached with the email, and he clicks it open.

[Exterior. Mid-morning. Shots of the streets of London from a car. In the foreground, the text reads Happy Birthday, Seonghwa! A female’s voice is heard speaking in the voiceover.]

Y/N: What’s a soulmate?

[The camera pans and focuses on Seonghwa as he looks out of the window, pointing at all the things he remembers from the few times he has been there with ATEEZ for concerts.]

SH: And that’s the cafe Jongho liked a lot. He said the coffee there was amazing. We should definitely visit it after we’ve settled in hotel room, you look like you could do with some caffeine in your system.

Y/N: [laughing] Not everyone is used to sleeping in aeroplanes.

SH: [shaking his head, he sniffs as if wounded by your comments] Well, if you toured with me, you’d be used to it. You’re the only one who keeps declining when I ask you to come with me! My poor self has to live without you for months just because you won’t agree.

Y/N: Your idea of bringing me along includes you stuffing me into your suitcase. Sorry if I don’t want to be thrown around with the other luggage.

SH: [snorting] It’s your fault for being so small.

Y/N: [sighing] Whatever, Hwa.

[Midday. The video cuts to a shot of Seonghwa walking along the Thames river. He has his arms wrapped around himself. The sky is covered with fluffy clouds, and one can tell that spring is fast approaching with the way little green buds are seen on the trees in the background.]

Y/N: It’s a… Well, it’s like a best friend, but more.

SH: It’s so cold!

Y/N: Should we go and get something to warm us up from the cafe you pointed out earlier? I think it’s close to where we are right now.

[The video cuts to the two of you inside the cafe. The camera is placed on one side, allowing it to capture both Seonghwa and you. You’re laughing at Seonghwa, who took a sip from your iced americano and immediately made a face at the taste. The video skips a bit and Seonghwa can be seen humming along to the music from the speakers while you watch him, enraptured by his vocals.]

Y/N: It’s the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else.

[The video cuts again. This time, Seonghwa is in a hotel room, standing against the backdrop of the Eiffel Tower and posing goofily while you are laughing in the background. He waddles over to the camera, forcing you to put it on the table as he twirls you around, dancing to a song he’s humming.]

Y/N: It’s someone who makes you a better person.

[The video cuts to a closeup of Seonghwa’s head in your lap as you sit on the couch. He’s sleeping soundly while you run your fingers through his soft hair. His lips quirk upwards in a smile, causing you to halt your motions, but a whine from him has you resuming your actions.]

Y/N: [soft whisper] Did I wake you up?

SH: [hums and shakes his head] Not really… [yawns] I wasn’t fully asleep.

[There’s silence for a while as Seonghwa shifts around to get comfortable.]

SH: I love you.

Y/N: That was so random, Hwa.

SH: Hey! You’re supposed to say you love me too!

Y/N: [snorting] I love you, you overgrown child.

SH: I’ll have you know that’s Wooyoung.

Y/N: Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll bite your arm off or something.

SH: [laughing hard]

Y/N: Actually, they don’t make you a better person, you do that yourself… because they inspire you.

[The video cuts to Seonghwa amidst the geraniums in Madrid before he drags you to the MINISO. His shenanigans from the store can be seen, with him wearing goofy sunglasses and playing with the Night Fury plushie.]

Y/N: A soulmate is someone who you can carry with you forever.

[Seonghwa can be seen busking with a guy playing the guitar. He sings Angel Baby by Troye Sivan, smiling wide when you start swaying one of your hands in beat with the music, causing people to follow your actions. When he’s done, people come up to him, telling him that he’s an amazing singer, and he thanks everyone with a bashful smile while watching you look at him with a look of pride on your face.]

Y/N: It’s the one person who knew you and accepted you… Believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would.

[Seonghwa excuses himself from the crowd and makes his way towards you, wrapping his arms around your frame and sways the two of you as the busker starts crooning a song in Danish.]

SH: Thank you for always believing in me, dove. Especially when I didn’t believe in myself.

Y/N: [smiling] I love you, and I’ll cheer you on, especially during the darkest days.

Y/N: And no matter what happens, you will always love them.

[The camera pans to you in your editing studio, and you wave at the camera with a smile on your face.]

Y/N: It’s quite late [glancing at the clock on your desk], 3 a.m. to be precise, and I’m working on your birthday video. [Laughs] I hope you like this little video I put together with clips from our trip to Europe. Give me a call once you’re done watching this. I love you so much, Hwa! Happy Birthday, my star!

Y/N: Nothing can ever change that.

Seonghwa wipes his tears, sniffing as he gets up from the bed. With a meticulousness characteristic of him, he goes through the motions of dressing up to pay you a visit. That’s the only thing that seems to make sense, so with bleary eyes and heavy feet, he walks through the deserted streets of Seoul.

The staff members at the hospital allow him to see you, used to his untimely visits. The nurse watching over you gives him a sad smile and leaves him alone with you when he enters your room. He notes that the pallor that had settled beneath your skin is now fading, albeit slowly.

Maybe you’re getting better? But you still haven’t woken up, and seeing your face, he finds himself falling, falling through the memories of the day of the accident. His eyes close of their own accord, and he sighs, trying to get those images out of his mind. Unable to stop his thoughts, he relives the day all over again.

Logically, he knows the accident isn’t his fault but of the person who was behind the wheel.

Or maybe it was, the voice in his mind tells him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can’t forgive himself for the events that led up to the accident. If he hadn’t called you to pick him up from the company that night when it was raining, you’d be safe in his arms, celebrating his birthday with him.

No, it wasn’t. Seonghwa desperately wants to believe his own words. But there’s still that small voice of doubt that rears its ugly head, and before he knows it, fresh tears are rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Seonghwa is too emotionally exhausted and too choked to speak any louder. “My dove, I’m so sorry for this whole mess. I’m sorry. Please wake up soon. I can’t do this alone—I can’t live without you. Please. I love you.”

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procrastinatingacademic · 2 months ago

Text

Updated Masterlist

Started: 28 February 2025

Last updated: 31 March 2025

Total works: 33

Angst💥; Fluff💫; Suggestive themes🔥

I don't write smut. All fics are 'x Reader' unless stated otherwise. I strive to mostly write gender-neutral Reader-characters, and I don't use Y/N.

DC Comics

The Scarecrow/Dr. Jonathan Crane

Ongoing series - There's nothing to fear when I'm with you (currently on hiatus) (Jonathan x female OC)

Fighting boredom

John Contantine

Ongoing series - Restless: A Constantine/Good Omens Crossover (currently on hiatus)💫🔥(No Reader-character)

The Riddler/Edward Nygma

Starlight is for dancing🔥

Black Mask/Roman Sionis

We were together, I forget the rest💫🔥

The Sandman

The Corinthian

(The lesser of) two evils💥💫🔥

Life is the flower for which love is the honey💥💫

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless

To see a world in a grain of sand (Blind!Reader)

Grishaverse

Kaz Brekker

Stay💫

It is lightning that does the work💥💫

Nikolai Lantsov/Sturmhond

A mother is the truest friend we have💥💫 (Mother Figure!Reader)

Two ships in the night💫

The Hunger Games

Haymitch Abernathy

Untitled WIP (Haymitch x female OC) (series)

Criminal Minds

Dr. Spencer Reid

Experience💫

Your song💫

Kidnapped for the vibes💥💫 (UnSub!Spencer Reid)

House of the Dragon

Larys Strong

Untitled WIP

Marvel

Dr. Stephen Strange

A little less awkward💫

Daredevil/Matt Murdock

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter 💫🔥

Greek Mythology

Apollo

Apollo - Autism💥💫 (No Reader-character)

Hermes

Hermes - Kleptomania💥 (No Reader-character)

Hades

Hades - Separation Anxiety Disorder💥💫 (No Reader-character)

Hypnos

WIP: Hypnos - Narcolepsy

Potterverse

Newt Scamander

Hold me close💥💫

Sirius & Regulus Black

The best way to make children good is to make them happy💥💫 (Parental Figure!Reader)

Supernatural

Lucifer

Wings of snow💫

Eyes of fire🔥

Gabriel

WIP: Run away with me, mon amour

Arcane

Viktor

Memorise you💥💫🔥 (Blind!Reader)

The Witcher (Netflix)

Jaskier

Sing a song only you can hear💫

Untitled WIP

Critical Role/The Legend of Vox Machina

Percival "Percy" de Rolo

While the music lasts💫

Prodigal Son

Malcolm Bright

Shut your eyes and see💥💫 (Blind!Reader)

Sherlock (BBC)

James "Jim" Moriarty

The world is boring for boring people💥💫🔥

Good Omens

Ongoing series - Restless: A Constantine/Good Omens Crossover (currently on hiatus)💫🔥(No Reader-character)

Various

The Three Musketeers (Anderson, 2011)

Aramis/René d'Herblay

Be kind, aim for my heart💫

Le Comte de Monte-Cristo (de La Patellière & Delaporte, 2024)

Edmond Dantès/The Count of Monte Cristo

Count your blessings

Amsterdam

LA by Night/Vampire the Masquerade

Robert Garrick

All your tomorrows start here💫

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dragon-kazansky · 11 months ago

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Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Ten - Our two hearts

☆☆☆

You stand beside Dream while he fixes up some more lf his realm. He had mended quite a lot of it over the last few days, and the residents were starting to return. You had been introduced to many of them by Lucienne.

Dream had chosen this as a good place to start teaching you about the power he has given you.

He was creating more dreams and nightmares, but it was a slow process. It took a lot of concentration from him to do this. He explained everything to you as he worked, but it was still a lot to take in all at once.

He could see at one point that you were growing weary and came to stand in front of you. "Hold out your hand."

You look at him and then hold out your hand. He takes your hand gently in his, cupping it in his palm. His skin is pale against yours. He looks at you with a small smile. You feel something soft in the palm of your hand and look to see something beginning to take shape. A stem. Long and green, full of life. A bud began to take form. Pale pink petals began to bloom. He lets go of your hand as you look at the flower in your hand.

"You made that."

"What?" You look at him.

"I helped, but you made it." He smiles softly. "I didn't even tell you what to make, you did that all yourself. In fact, you have given me an idea."

"Um... what kind of idea?" You ask, looking up at him.

"I want to give you a gift."

You stare at him, hoping he will elaborate, but he doesn't. He just gives you a little grin and then returns back to his work on the dreams and nightmares.

You look at the flower in your hand and bring it to your nose. It smells heavenly. You smile.

☆☆☆

You walk through the palace with Matthew as your guide. Lucienne had called Dream to speak with him privately about something. He told you he would join you again later, so Matthew brought you back to the palace.

You were still holding your flower, admiring it. They way it smelled, the way it looked, the way it felt. You had made this very special little flower.

"Uh, your room is this way." Matthew caws.

You look up and see that you had stopped paying attention and were now veering away from your location.

"Oh, sorry."

You turn around and follow Matthew down the correct hall. You return to your room. Matthew perches on the end of your bed and watches you put your flower in a vase next to your bed.

"You made that?"

"Yes." You smile. "Isn't it pretty?"

You take a seat on your bed and turn to Matthew. He looks up at you with those big black eyes of his.

"Is he a good man?" You ask.

"Who? Dream? To be honest, I haven't known him that long. You should ask Lucienne, though. She's known him a long time." He cocks his head from side to side every so often. "But I think so, yeah."

You smile softly.

"So, are you two married?" He asks.

"What? No! I've known literally days." You look shocked by his question. "Haven't you been following us around all that time?"

"Well, yeah, but... you two seem kind of close."

"Do we?"

"Well, I've seen the way he's been looking at you recently." Matthew tells you that so causally.

"Oh? How does he look at me?"

Matthew is about to tell you, but someone comes into your room unannounced. You look up to find what looks like a scarecrow with a pumpkin for a head. He turns and sees you and then stares at you.

"Oh, uh, I wasn't aware you were in here, lady."

"Merv!" Matthew caws.

"Oh, right, um. Mervyn, at your service."

"Hello," you greet him.

"He's kind of the handyman around here. Which brings the question, what are you doing in here?" Matthew looks up at Merv.

"Uh, well, you see, his highness is working on something, and asked me to come see what kind of things you like. I just didn't think you were in here. Thought I'd coke snoop through your stuff and get some ideas..."

You chuckle softly and look at him. "You came to snoop?"

"Yeah..."

"That's considered rude. Why not just ask me?"

"Uh... I don't know."

You laugh and stand up. "What do you want to know?"

The next fifteen minutes were spent in a game of 20 questions. Mervyn asked you about your favourite colours, favourite animals, favourite flowers, favourite music, favourite foods, what you liked to wear, what you liked to do.

You told him everything.

He was doing this because Dream had asked him to. You were certain if he wasn't so busy with whatever it is Lucienne needed him for, he would have come to ask you all this himself. It made you feel warm inside.

Once Merv had all the answers he needed, he left. You chuckled as he went.

"You'll get used to him." Matthew said to you.

"I'm sure."

"So, you are staying?"

"I am." You smiled. "The Dreaming is my home now."

☆☆☆

Dream sat on his throne with a thoughtful expression on his face. In his lap was a big red book with your name on it. It contained your life history. Lucienne had brought it to him and stated he should read it.

He saw your childhood on these pages. He saw everything Rodrick Burgess did to you. More the lack of what he did for you. His only daughter cast aside. It infuriated Dream how poorly you were treated by that family. Now you were safe within his realm.

Also in the book was the moment you both met. He looks down at the scar as he reads that part. His soulmate. There was hope in his heart that you would see him differently in the future.

He certainly saw you in a different light.

Dream hoped his gift would be the first step to winning you over. He had concluded business with Lucienne ages ago and then gone to start on your gift. However, he was curious to read what was in your book, so here he was.

As he nears the part where he took you away, he heard footsteps entering the grand throne room. He lifted his eyes from the page he was on and found you walking over to him.

His heart skipped a beat.

Dream closed the book and put it down carefully to the side. He stood and made his way down the steps to meet you halfway. He was pleased to see you.

"Hello," he greeted you softly.

"Hello." You smiled. "Have you been busy?"

"Quite."

There was a slight eagerness to him. You could see it in his eyes and his smile as he stood there in front of you. He almost, almost, childlike.

"What's up with you?" You ask softly.

"Why should anything be up with me?" He asks, smiling.

"Because you're smiling. You don't exactly do that." You pointed out.

"Oh?"

You roll your eyes. "Just tell me."

"Come with me." He starts to walk away. You follow him, trying to keep up with his lkng strides. Wherever he was taking you, he was determined to get there quickly.

He led you out of the palace round the back. You had gone past your room, and down a hall, you were certain hadn't been there before. He took you through a door that led outside into a courtyard. Around the courtyard were empty flowers beds. In the centre was a fountain. Opposite the door, you came out of was an arch covered in flowers that led to more flowerbeds.

You look around you. "What's this?"

"Your garden."

You snap your head towards him and state at him in confusion. "My garden?"

He looks at you in amusement. "Yes."

"What do you mean my garden?"

"Exactly that. I've made you a garden," he says proudly.

"When did you have time to do this?" You knew it took a while for him to build his residents in the Dreaming, so a whole garden would have taken hours, you're certain.

"I can create places quite easily. A garden was simple enough. Once Lucienne left my side, I began this for you."

"You have gifted me a garden?"

"Yes."

You take another look around and smile softly. No one has ever given you something so wonderful before.

"Where are the flowers?" You ask softly.

"Ah, well, that's your job," he states.

"My job?"

Dream guides you over to the closest flowerbed and looks down at the rich soil below. He gestures to it with one hand as he raises his eyes to look at you. "You grew one flower with a little bit of help, so I figured gifting you a garden to practise in would help you."

You look at him on awe. "You did this for me?"

"Of course."

"You didn't have to," you say softly.

"I wanted to."

You feel your heart skip. A warmth settles in your chest. He did this for you. He made this gift for you.

"Thank you."

He smiles at you. His blue eyes seem to brighten. He's certainly handsome. You smile.

"I'll practise. I promise. No more gifts, though. You've given me enough."

He chuckles deeply. "No promises."

You can't help but chuckle, too.

Dream leaves you in your garden to tend to other matters for a while. You're kind of glad because you had a lot to think about. You had him to think about.

Suddenly, everything felt like it was in a new light, and you needed to know what it meant.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden - @thecraziestcrayon -

#heart of the dreaming #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman #female reader #soulmate au #dragon writes

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 2 months ago

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🎄 Mere Superstition

Mere Superstition: Your family have been worshipping a ‘god’ for centuries, only by the time you are born, this ‘god’ has been remiss and you simply believe him to be a nonexistent fairytale. Its your turn to take on the mantel from your mother, only something actually happens this ritual…

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material, Blood.

To Note: Morpheus x AFAB!Reader

Prompt: Deity-Acolyte

Word Count: ~9.5k

Your mother’s hands move with practiced precision, smoothing the white linen over your shoulders. The gown feels both heavy and light, like you’re carrying the weight of tradition while floating in a sea of uncertainty.

“Hold still,” she murmurs, adjusting the hem. Her fingers brush against your skin, cool and firm.

You nod, eyes tracing the familiar symbols embroidered in silver thread along the gown’s edges. Symbols that have been etched into your family’s history for generations. “He isn't going to come,” you say, voice barely a whisper so the elders in the room don't hear you, "he hasn't responded in almost two centuries!"

Your mother’s gaze hardens for a moment before softening again. “Doubt has no place here,” she says firmly. “He will come when he wills it.”

You glance at the ancient tome resting on the altar, its pages yellowed with age and ink fading into obscurity. “And if he doesn’t?”

She pauses, fingers lingering on your sleeve. “Then we continue to serve. Our faith is not conditional on his presence.”

The ritual items lie spread out before you: a small vial of black sand, a silver chalice filled with wine so dark it could be mistaken for blood, and an intricately carved ivory comb. You reach for the comb first, its cool weight familiar in your hand.

“Begin with your hair,” your mother instructs. Her voice carries the authority of countless rituals performed.

You run the comb through your long hair, each stroke deliberate and slow. The act feels like weaving a spell, binding you closer to the legacy you now bear. Or, well, are forced to bear.

Next comes the sand. You open the vial carefully, letting a few grains fall into your palm before closing it again. The grains shimmer faintly in the dim light of the candles that surround you.

“Sprinkle it around the altar,” she says.

You obey, letting the sand slip through your fingers in a fine arc around the sacred space. It glows briefly before settling into stillness.

Finally, you lift the chalice. The liquid inside swirls as if alive, reflecting flickers of candlelight.

“To Dream,” you murmur, raising it high before taking a sip. The taste is bitter and sweet all at once, like forgotten memories. Don't make a face. Don't make a face. Don't make a face.

Your mother watches closely, her expression unreadable but her eyes filled with something akin to hope—or perhaps desperation masked as faith.

“We are ready,” she declares.

The room grows quiet, filled only with the sound of your own breathing and the flicker of flames dancing in their holders. You step up to the alter and pull back the skirts of your dress. Glancing down, you grimace at the spot where you are supposed to kneel as generations have done before you, feeling as silly as this ritual had sounded when you were first made aware. The matriarchs of your family were a bunch of old religious crackheads if they believed Dream of the Endless, whoever he supposedly was, was going to return to bless the family. Like he even existed.

You kneel on the cold stone floor, feeling its chill seep through the thin fabric of your gown. The pressure of the elders’ eyes weighs heavily on your shoulders. You reach for the ancient tome, its leather cover cracked and worn from centuries of use. The air around you feels thick with expectation, almost suffocating.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you open the book to the correct passage, the pages rustling like whispers in the silent room. The scent of old parchment and ink fills your nostrils, almost noxiously.

The passage is written in a language older than any you know, but its meaning has been drilled into you since childhood. Your mother’s voice echoes in your mind as you begin to recite the words aloud, each syllable rolling off your tongue with a practiced ease that belies your inner turmoil.

“Dream of the Endless, hear our call,” you intone, your voice steady despite the doubts gnawing at your mind. You feel so silly speaking these words “We, your faithful servants, beseech thee to grace us with thy presence.”

The candles flicker as if responding to your plea, casting dancing shadows on the walls. You can feel the elders’ gazes burning into you, their silence more oppressive than any words could be.

You continue reading, each word weaving a tapestry of devotion and hope. More like a false one on your account. “By the sands of time and the threads of fate, we offer our humble tribute. May our dreams be guided by thy hand.”

Your eyes lift from the page to see your mother watching intently, her face a mask of solemnity. You can see the faint lines of worry etched around her eyes, betraying her own uncertainty despite her confident exterior.

The ritual dagger lies before you on the altar, its blade gleaming wickedly in the candlelight. You reach for it, the cool metal of the hilt sending a shiver up your arm. The weight of the dagger feels heavier than it looks, as if it knows the gravity of the act you are about to commit.

With a deep breath, you steel yourself and draw the blade across your palm. The sharp sting of the cut makes you wince, but you don't allow yourself to cry out. Crimson droplets well up from the wound, stark against your pale skin. You extend your hand over the bowl of fine, white sand, watching as each drop of your life's essence hits the surface, blooming like dark roses in the snow.

The words of the final passage spill from your lips, each syllable laced with a tone you struggle to hold back bitter sarcasm. When will this Dream nonsense stop dominating your life? "By the blood that flows through me, the vessel of our devotion, we promise our lifeblood devotion, Dream of the Endless."

As the last word echoes in the hallowed chamber, a heavy silence descends. You remain kneeling there, hand throbbing, the metallic tang of blood filling your senses, and wait.

Nothing happens. Not the least bit surprising.

The silence stretches on, mocking the elders with its emptiness. You can feel the weight of the elders' disappointment, a palpable force pressing down on you. It brings you a little joy, for you truly believe nothing would happen. No doubt your mother's face is a mask of stoic resignation, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Then, without warning, the ground beneath your knees begins to tremble. A low rumble fills the room, growing louder with each passing second. You gasp and scramble to your feet, heart pounding in your chest as the tremors intensify.

Your bleeding palm grasps the skirts of your dress as you turn to your mother, eyes wide with alarm. The other elder women are all in shock, their faces frozen in a mixture of fear and awe. The room that has stood for centuries as a testament to your family's faith starts to shake violently, as if the very foundations are being tested.

The bowl of sand, now tainted with your blood, begins to stir. The grains swirl and dance, caught in an unseen vortex. You stumble back, a cry of panic escaping your lips as the sand storm whips around you, stinging your skin and obscuring your vision.

"Mother?” you gasp with nervousness, your eyes wide in disbelief. This was not something discussed when she had told you about this ritual! The wind howls in response, a cacophony that drowns out all other sounds.

The sand, now stained crimson with your blood, swirls faster and faster, brushing against your skin like a thousand tiny needles. It encircles you, lifting you off the ground. The room dissolves around you, the elders’ shocked faces fading into a blur of colors and shadows. A whirlwind of sensation engulfs you—cold air biting at your skin, the gritty texture of the sand, and a dizzying sense of disorientation.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the whirlwind stops. You find yourself kneeling on a cold marble floor in a vast throne room. The air here is thick with the scent of ancient stone and something ethereal, like dreams made tangible.

Before you is an inhumanely beautiful man that you do not recognize in the slightest. He sits upon a grand throne that seems to be carved from obsidian, dark and smooth with edges that catch the light in ways that make it seem alive. Behind him stretches a magnificent stained glass window, its colors swirling and shifting in an ever-changing tapestry of light and shadow.

Your eyes are immediately drawn back to the man, he is mesmerizing—a tall, slender figure with pearl white skin that seems to glow faintly in the dim light. His hair is as black as a raven’s wing, falling in disheveled strands around his face. Where his eyes should be are two distant stars; tonight they shimmer silver-blue, cold and distant yet impossibly deep.

Your heart pounds as you take in his otherworldly beauty. There’s an air of melancholy around him, an aura of timeless wisdom mingled with eternal sorrow. Every bit of him speaks of an ancient power that transcends mortal understanding.

What the fuck??” The words escape your lips before you can stop them.

The raven, perched on the armrest of the throne, turns his head to look at the man. “See? I told you that you shouldn't just teleport your worshiper here, boss!”

His gaze remains fixed on you, unblinking stars piercing through the veil of reality. “You have been summoned,” he states simply, his voice a low rumble that resonates through your bones.

"Uh, why exactly?" you tentatively question, rising to you feet and clenching the white fabric against your still bleeding palm. You were getting blood all over the pristine fabric.

“You called upon me,” he states, as if the answer is obvious.

You blink, your mind racing to catch up. “I—” You glance around the vast throne room, feeling the enormity of the situation pressing down on you. “First thing, I didn’t think it would actually work. Second, my family made me do that weird ritual. I was not a willing participant. Great aunt Margaret threatened to not let me attend her thanksgiving potluck if I didn't do it.

The raven bursts into cackling laughter, the sound echoing off the marble walls and high ceilings of the throne room. “A potluck? You were threatened with missing a potluck?” His beady eyes gleam with amusement as he hops from one foot to the other on the armrest of the throne.

You flush, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “It’s a big deal in our family,” you mutter defensively, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Grannie May makes a killer pie…”

The man/god tilts his head to the side, his expression inscrutable. “Your family has worshiped me for thousands of years,” he says, each word measured and deliberate. “Their devotion spans generations, transcending lifetimes.”

You blink, taken aback by the weight of his statement. The enormity of it settles over you like a heavy cloak. Thousands of years. Your family's history stretches back further than you could have ever imagined.

"And here I am thinking that they were all just a bunch of religious crackheads…" your eyes return to the raven, still perched on the armrest, its feathers gleaming like polished obsidian in the dim light. “So… a talking raven,” you say, your voice tinged with disbelief. “And you are?”

“Name’s Matthew,” the raven replies, his beady eyes twinkling with mischief. “Official messenger and part-time comedian.”

You snort despite yourself. “Well, nice to meet you, Matthew. I’m Y/N. Not exactly thrilled to be here, but I guess we can make the best of it.”

Matthew flaps his wings once, settling more comfortably on the armrest. “Oh, trust me, kid. This place has its perks. Just wait until you see the Dreaming’s snack bar.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Snack bar?”

“Yeah, well,” Matthew says, cocking his head to one side, “it’s more like an ever-changing buffet of your wildest cravings. Imagine a chocolate fountain that never runs dry or a pizza that always has the perfect cheese pull.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction. “Sounds like heaven.”

Morpheus's deep voice cuts through your conversation with Matthew like a knife through silk. "Matthew, leave us."

The raven stops mid-flap, his wings settling back at his sides. “Sure thing, boss,” he says, giving you a quick, knowing glance before taking off into the shadows of the vast room.

You turn your attention back to the man—no, the god—before you. His presence seems to fill the space around him, making it hard to focus on anything else. He stands and steps down from his throne with a grace that speaks of otherworldly power.

“You may call me Morpheus,” he says, his voice carrying an ancient resonance that vibrates through your bones.

You swallow hard, trying to reconcile the surreal reality before you with the life you left behind mere moments ago. “Morpheus,” you repeat, tasting the name on your tongue. “Why haven’t you responded to my family for so long?”

He pauses, eyes like distant stars fixed on you. “I was imprisoned,” he finally says, each word heavy with an unspoken history. “For over a century, I was held captive by those who sought to control my power.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you process his words. The weight of his absence suddenly feels much more significant. “So… it wasn’t our fault you stopped responding?”

“No,” Morpheus confirms. “Your family’s devotion has never wavered in my absence. It was beyond your control.”

"Oh the grannies are gonna be so relieved to hear that," you murmur, a bit of tension leaving your shoulders. Your eyebrows then furrow as your mind spins. “What am I supposed to do for you now? No one told me anything past what I was supposed to do and say…”

Morpheus’s gaze grows contemplative, as if considering possibilities that span beyond mortal comprehension. After a long moment, he speaks again. “It has been nearly a millennia since I have chosen to indulge myself with a loyal acolyte in reward for their service.”

Your brain short circuits, your mind racing to catch up with the implications of his words. “I beg your pardon?”

Morpheus smirks, a slow, deliberate curl of his lips that sends a quiver up your spine. You are pretty sure your pelvic muscles clenched. “You heard me correctly, little acolyte.”

Your face flushes with embarrassment, heat rising to your cheeks as you process the term of endearment. His presence is overwhelming, a mix of commanding authority and otherworldly allure that you can't ignore. He is too damn beautiful for his own good… The embarrassment mingles with a confusing sense of attraction; after all, he is breathtakingly beautiful.

The throne room around you seems to close in, the vast marble expanse suddenly feeling intimate and confining. The flickering torchlight casts shifting shadows across the obsidian throne and the magnificent stained glass window behind it. Each color seems more vibrant than anything you've ever seen, as if the Dreaming itself is alive with Morpheus’ presence.

You struggle to regain your composure, standing before him with your bleeding palm still throbbing. The metallic scent of blood mingles with the ancient stone and ethereal essence that permeates the air. You can almost taste the charged atmosphere on your tongue.

Morpheus steps closer, his movements fluid and precise like a predator stalking its prey. That would be you. He reaches out with one long, slender finger and traces a line along your jaw, sending a cascade of tingling sensations down your spine.

As you stand before Morpheus, your heart races, the sound of your pulse thrumming in your ears like a drumbeat heralding the approach of something momentous. His touch is electric, igniting a fire deep within your body that you never knew existed. It's as if every cell in your body is attuned to his presence, responding to his otherworldly allure with a desperate yearning that takes your breath away.

"I spent my entire life believing you were nothing more than a figment of my families imagination," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You raise your injured hand, the crimson droplets still glistening on your palm. "A story told by my ancestors to instill a sense of purpose and devotion in our bloodline."

The air between you and Morpheus crackles with tension, the space seeming to shrink until it feels as though the two of you are the only beings in the entirety of the Dreaming. His gaze flickers to your palm, the distant stars in his eyes reflecting the scarlet hue of your life's essence.

"And now?" Morpheus asks, his voice resonating with a depth that seems to echo through the very marrow of your being.

"Now," you say, your breath hitching as he takes a step closer, his form looming over you like a dark, celestial enigma, "I'm not sure what to believe."

Morpheus reaches out, his fingers brushing against your own, the contact sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. His skin is cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. He traces the line of your cut, the pad of his thumb collecting a bead of your blood. You watch, transfixed, as he brings his thumb to his lips, tasting your essence with a sensuality that makes your knees weak.

"Believe in this," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you, setting your nerves alight with a fiery need.

The world around you fades into the background as Morpheus leans in, his lips hovering mere millimeters from your own. You can feel the warmth of his breath, a gentle caress against your skin that awakens a hunger within you that is both terrifying and exhilarating. His scent envelops you—a blend of ancient parchment, night-blooming flowers, and something uniquely him that you can't quite put into words.

With agonizing slowness, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is both a claiming and a reverence. His mouth moves against yours with a masterful precision, coaxing a response from you that is instinctual and raw. You open to him, your tongue meeting his, each stroke and caress stoking the fire that threatens to consume you both.

As the kiss deepens, you feel his hands exploring the contours of your body, the thin fabric of your dress providing little barrier to the heat of his touch. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, the swell of your hip, the length of your thigh, each caress leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

The sensation is overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that drowns out all thought. You find yourself pressing against him, seeking the hard planes of his body, the evidence of his own desire pressing insistently against your lower abdomen.

Morpheus breaks the kiss, his lips trailing a path along your jawline, down the column of your throat. You tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to him, your fingers tangling in the silk of his raven-black hair. His teeth graze your skin, the hint of pain only serving to heighten the pleasure that courses through your veins.

"Morpheus," you gasp, your voice laced with need.

"Yield to me," he breathes, the word a promise, a vow that he will take you to the heights of ecstasy and beyond.

Morpheus' fingertips trace the column of your throat, his touch as light as a feather yet as potent as a bolt of lightning. You can feel the heat of his palm against your neck, a stark contrast to the chill of his skin. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, tugging it gently, and you can't help but part your lips, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

The sound of your own heartbeat fills your ears, a staccato rhythm that matches the throbbing between your legs. You are acutely aware of the dampness gathering there, the wetness soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear. The sensation is both embarrassing and exhilarating.

Morpheus' lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth nipping at the tender flesh. You let out a moan, your hands clutching at his shoulders, the fabric of his jacket bunched in your fists. His tongue soothes the sting, a small gesture that speaks volumes of his restraint and the careful control he exerts over his own desires.

His hands move lower, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that borders on worship. He cups your breasts through the fabric of your dress, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arch into his touch, wordlessly begging for more.

You are lost in the storm of sensation, the feel of Morpheus' lips against your skin branding you with a heat that will never fade. His hands continue their exploration, each touch a promise of what is to come. And then, with a fluid grace that leaves you breathless, he shifts his attention to your injured hand.

Slowly, almost reverently, he lifts your bleeding palm to his lips. His eyes, those distant stars, hold yours captive as he tilts his head and draws his lips along the cut you had made during the ritual. His touch is gentle, yet there is an undercurrent of raw power that courses through him, a reminder of his true nature.

The first touch of his tongue against your wound makes you unconsciously wince before gasping in surprise. It's a sensation unlike anything you've ever felt—cool and soothing, yet at the same time, it ignites a fire deep within your cunt. Oh geez. You watch, entranced, as he laps at the crimson droplets, his movements slow and deliberate.

As he continues to tend to your wound, you feel the edges of the cut knit together, the pain ebbing away until all that remains is a warm tingling where the injury had been. He has healed you with nothing more than a touch, a demonstration of his power that leaves you shocked.

With the wound healed, Morpheus lifts his gaze to meet yours once more. There is a hunger in his eyes, a desire that mirrors your own. Without breaking eye contact, he draws you into his arms, pulling you flush against his body.

"Can you... take care of this dress too?" you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath as you look up at Morpheus. “My mother will kill me when she finds out I got blood on it…”

His smirk is both predatory and amused. "As you wish," he replies, his voice like velvet over steel.

His fingers trail down your back, and the sensation sends shivers cascading down your spine. You feel the whisper of his touch against your skin, delicate yet electric, as if he's tracing lines of fire across your flesh. As he moves, the fabric of your dress begins to dissolve, the grains of his sand shimmering in the dim light before disappearing entirely.

You gasp softly as cool air caresses your newly exposed skin. The dress melts away in a cascade of shimmering particles, leaving you bare within Morpheus' arms. The stark contrast between the warmth of his body and the chill of the air heightens your awareness, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

He was supposed to clean it not make is disappear!

Your cheeks flush as you realize the full extent of your nudity. Tits out and at full mast. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, a mix of vulnerability and arousal that leaves you breathless. Your eyes dart around the room, a fleeting worry that someone might walk in and see you like this.

Morpheus, noticing your discomfort, gathers your naked body into his arms with a tenderness that contrasts with the raw power emanating from him. The coolness of his skin sends shivers cascading down your spine and you clutch your arms to your chest. His touch is gentle, his hold on you both protective and possessive.

The world around you shifts as he transports you out of the throne room and into a private chamber. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. The scent of stardust and jasmine fills the air, mingling with the faint aroma of aged parchment and ancient stone. The bed in the center of the room is large and inviting, draped in rich fabrics that feel impossibly soft against your skin.

Morpheus settles you down on the bed with an ease and you keep an arm clutched to your prickled breasts. The sheets are cool and smooth beneath you, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. He stands above you for a moment, his eyes roaming over your form with an intensity that makes your heart race. What is so enamoring about your naked body?

His gaze is like a physical touch, caressing every curve and hollow of your body. You can feel his desire in the air between you, a palpable force that draws you to him like a moth to a flame. The sexual tension is almost unbearable, a magnetic pull that leaves you aching for his touch.

As you settle back against the plush pillows, Morpheus' gaze never leaves yours. His eyes, a swirling galaxy of stars, hold you captive, promising untold pleasures. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both a question and a promise. You part your lips, granting him entry, and his tongue slips into your mouth with a confident grace that leaves you breathless. He tastes like midnight and stars, a flavor you quickly come to adore.

The kiss deepens, a dance of tongues that stokes the fire burning within your core. His hands roam your body, tracing the contours of your curves with a reverence that sends shivers cascading down your spine. His touch is light but deliberate, each caress igniting a trail of sparks across your skin. You can feel the heat of his palms through the thin fabric of your underwear, the wetness that has gathered there evidence of his influence on you.

Morpheus breaks the kiss, his lips trailing a path along your jawline, down the column of your throat. Each kiss he leaves in his wake is a brand, a mark of possession that sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. His teeth graze your earlobe, the hint of pain only serving to heighten the pleasure that courses through your body.

His lips leave a trail of fire as they blaze a path across your skin, each kiss a possessive mark upon your body. The cool air of the chamber does nothing to quell the heat that radiates from your cunt, and you find yourself arching into his touch with a whimper, craving the warmth of his mouth against your most sensitive areas.

Morpheus' hands trace the curve of your waist, his touch as light as a feather yet as potent as a bolt of lightning. You can feel the heat of his palms against your hips, the calloused pads of his thumbs caressing the soft skin of your lower abdomen. His breath is hot against your skin, a stark contrast to the chill of the room, and you can't help but shiver in anticipation.

With agonizing slowness, he lowers his head, his lips skimming over the sensitive flesh of your pelvis. The sensation is exquisite, a delicate balance of pleasure and pain that leaves you breathless. His tongue darts out, tracing the line of your hipbone, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight to your cunt.

His gaze lingers on the apex of your thighs, the raw hunger in his eyes sending a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the rhythmic thud echoing in your ears like a drumbeat.

Morpheus lowers his head once more, his lips grazing the soft skin of your inner thigh. The sensation is electrifying, a bolt of pure pleasure that shoots straight to your cunt. His tongue traces a path up your thigh, each stroke a promise of what is to come.

"Please," you hear yourself whisper, the word slipping from your lips before you can stop it.

Morpheus chuckles, a low, throaty sound that resonates through you. "Patience," he murmurs, his voice a silken promise that sends a fresh wave of heat pooling between your legs. Slowly, ever so slowly, he hooks his fingers into the waistline of your underwear and tugs. Much like your ceremonial dress, the underwear disappears in a shimmer of sand leaving you completely bare.

Your breath hitches and you tremble, but Morpheus doesn’t appear to even notice. His fingers trace the contours of your inner thighs, each touch a tease, a prelude to the pleasure that is to come. You can't help but moan as he finally reaches the apex of your thighs, his thumb brushing lightly over your clit. The sensation is electric, a jolt of pleasure that leaves you trembling.

You feel his breath against your sensitive flesh, a warm, teasing caress that makes you ache for more. And then his tongue is on you, a slow, languid lick that has you arching off the bed. The sensations are overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that leaves you breathless and begging for more.

Your fingers tangle in Morpheus' hair, the strands silky and cool against your skin. You tug at the dark locks, the slight sting of pain only serving to heighten the pleasure coursing through your veins. Your other hand claws at the bed sheet beneath you, the fabric bunched in your fist as you struggle to keep some form of thought amidst the storm of sensation.

Morpheus' hands hold you down, his grip firm yet gentle as he continues his ministrations. His tongue flicks against your clit, each stroke deliberate and maddeningly precise. You can feel the pleasure building within you, a tight coil of need that threatens to snap at any moment.

Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps, each one punctuated by a litany of moans and pleas. "Morpheus, oh gods, don't stop," you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His only response is a low, rumbling growl that vibrates against your sensitive flesh, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. He increases the pressure, his tongue moving faster, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge of release.

Your body bows off the bed, your muscles tense as the pleasure peaks, cresting like a wave that threatens to consume you entirely. You cry out, your voice echoing off the walls of the chamber as you shatter beneath him, the force of your orgasm leaving you trembling and spent.

As the aftershocks ripple through you, Morpheus lifts his head, his lips glistening in the dim light. His gaze meets yours, the stars in his eyes swirling with a satisfaction that mirrors your own. He crawls up your body, his movements fluid and graceful, and captures your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless once more.

You briefly moan from his apparent hunger before your lips part beneath the onslaught of Morpheus' kiss. The taste of your own arousal mingles with an otherworldly tang of stardust. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, a bold invasion that stokes the fire within your cunt. You moan into the kiss, your hands roaming over the fabric of his shirt.

Morpheus' hands are busy exploring the soft curves of your breasts, his touch both reverent and maddeningly skilled. His thumbs brush over your hardened nipples, blooming jolts of pleasure that make your legs twitch. The sensation is exquisite, a delicate balance of pleasure and pain that leaves you squirming beneath him.

His mouth breaks away from yours, blazing a trail of fire down the column of your throat. You arch into his touch, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he continues his descent. His lips close around one taut peak, the warmth of his mouth enveloping your nipple in a wet heat that makes you gasp.

The sensation of his tongue laving your sensitive flesh is almost too much to bear. He flicks the tip of his tongue over your nipple, each stroke lingering with a suckle. Your fingers dig into his scalp, tugging at the dark strands as he continues his ministrations.

He sucks deeply, the rhythmic pull of his mouth sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your other nipple aches for attention, and as if sensing your need, Morpheus shifts his focus, lavishing the neglected peak with the same attention he gave the first.

“Oh,” you sound, your entire body squirming beneath him when his tongue curls around your neglected nipple. Morpheus makes a pleased sound in the back of his through before suckling harder, pulling at your nipple and teasing it relentlessly with his tongue.

Morpheus' hand continues to explore your body, his touch a delicious counterpoint to the sensations caused by his mouth. His fingers skim over your hip, tracing a path along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

His fingers find the wetness gathered at your cunt, the evidence of your orgasm that he so easily pulled from your body. You can't help but grind against his hand, seeking the friction you so desperately need.

Morpheus chuckles against your breast, a low, throaty sound that resonates through you. "Eager, are we?" he murmurs, his voice a silken promise. You can only whine in response.

His fingers continue their exploration, each touch a tease, a taunting prelude to the pleasure that you feel might never come.

Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps, each one punctuated by a litany of moans and pleas. "Morpheus, please," you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His only response is a low, rumbling growl that vibrates against your sensitive flesh, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. His fingers slide within you, the sensation of being filled by him sending you hurtling towards the edge of release.

While the aftershocks ripple through you, Morpheus lifts his head, his lips glistening in the dim light. His gaze meets yours, the stars in his eyes swirling with a satisfaction that mirrors your own. He crawls up your body once more, his movements fluid and graceful, and captures your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless once more.

Your body still hums with the afterglow of your previous releases, yet as Morpheus gazes down at you with those starry eyes in between his tongue tying kisses, a new wave of desire washes over you. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch as light as a feather, yet it still manages to send a jolt of electricity straight to your cunt.

"My beloved acolyte," Morpheus murmurs, his voice a silken caress that makes your heart flutter in your chest. "Would you like to experience the true pleasures of laying with an Endless?"

You don't even need to think about your response. The word spills from your lips, a breathy sigh of acquiescence. "Yes."

A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face, revealing the sharpness of his canines. At your wide-eyed gaze, he chuckles—a sound that is both dark and intoxicating. "Let me show you the depths of ecstasy you have only ever dreamed of."

With a subtle rush of sand, his clothes disappear, revealing a physique that is nothing short of divine. Had he inspired the greeks? Your eyes roam over him, taking in the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, and the V-shape that dips below the waistband of his nonexistent pants. Your gaze lands on his cock, thick and already semi-hard, and a brief moment of panic flutters in your chest. He's massive, far larger than anyone you've been with before, and you can't help but wonder if he'll even fit.

Morpheus seems to sense your apprehension, his smirk growing wider. "Fear not, my dear. I will ensure you are ready to receive me."

His words make your aching cunt clench and your heart skip a beat. You nod, your throat suddenly dry, as he lowers himself onto the bed beside you. His hands resume their exploration of your body, his touch both soothing and arousing. His fingers trace the contours of your breasts, your nipples hardening once more under his ministrations. You can hear the soft, needy whimpers escaping your lips, a stark contrast to the low, rumbling growls that Morpheus emits in response.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming every part of you with a possessive intensity that makes your head spin. At the same time, his hand travels down your body, his fingers slipping between your thighs to feel the pleasure he has already wrought.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing a path down your neck, over your collarbone, and down to your breasts. His tongue flicks over your nipple, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. His fingers continue their ministrations, teasing your clit with maddeningly slow circles that have you writhing beneath him.

The sound of your wetness fills the room, a testament to the desire that courses through your veins. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the coolness of the room a stark contrast to the inferno that rages within you.

Morpheus' fingers continue their dance within your cunt, each stroke a promise of the pleasure to come. His digits glide effortlessly through your slick folds, the sound of your wetness a delicious symphony that fills the room.

His face nuzzles against yours, the cool smoothness of his jaw heightening the sear of his lips upon yours. Each kiss he leaves in his wake is a brand, a mark of possession that makes you melt further into his embrace. His breath is hot against your skin, a warm, teasing caress that leaves you aching for more.

As his tongue sweeps into your mouth, you feel the hard, thick length of his cock slide through the slick folds of your cunt. The sensation is electric, a jolt of pleasure that rips a gasp from your throat.

Morpheus' cock feels of velvet, yet is hot and hard as it parts your wet lips, dragging against your clit with each threatening pass. The explicit sensation of his flesh against yours sends a shudder coursing through your body, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his back as you moan into his kiss.

The sound of your wetness, the slick slide of his cock against your sensitive flesh, fills the room, a symphony of lust and desire. Your face presses up against his, your breath mingling with his as you gasp for air, the sounds that spill from your lips – soft, needy whimpers and desperate moans – only serving to fuel the fire that burns between you.

Morpheus breaks the kiss, his lips trailing a path along your jawline, down the column of your throat. "You make the most beautiful sounds," he whispers, his voice a low purr. "I could listen to you all night."

His words make you whimper, your cunt aching to be filled by him and thighs quiver around his cock. But still, he continues to tease you, rutting his cock through your folds, the head nudging against your entrance only to slide away at the last moment.

"Please, Morpheus," you beg once more, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. "Stop teasing me."

He smirks, a wicked glint in his starry eyes as he grasps your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “If you believe you are ready, beloved acolyte, so be it.”

His lips capture yours once more, the kiss deep and demanding as he positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance. The sensation of being stretched open as he begins to penetrate you is intense, a pain that leaves you gasping against his mouth.

The sensation of Morpheus' cock filling you is almost too much to bear. He stretches you wide, the searing heat of his flesh a stark contrast to the coolness of the room. You can feel the hard press of his pelvis against yours, every nerve in your body alight with sensation.

Your breath hitches in your throat, a soft, needy whimper escaping your lips as he pushes deeper. He fills you completely, the thick length of his cock pressing against your inner walls, the sensation exquisite. You can feel your cunt clenching around him, a desperate attempt to adjust to his size.

Morpheus holds still for a moment, allowing your quivering body to grow accustomed to the stretch his cock causes. His body is a solid weight atop yours, the coolness of his skin a stark contrast to the heat that radiates from your own. He can feel each and every whimpering rasp you make as you suck in oxygen, trembling beneath him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Morpheus begins to move. He pulls out almost completely, the drag of his cock against your raw walls begging to keep him in. Your eyes roll back slightly and your breasts heave. Then he thrusts back in, the force of his movements pushing you further up the bed.

The sound of your wetness fills the room, a lewd, squelching sound. You press your head back into the bed beneath your body, your breaths coming and going rapidly. Seeing your lovely neck so stretched out, Morpheus lowers his lips to your neck and licks at your fluttering pulse.

The rhythmic thrust of Morpheus' hips against your own sends a sharp wave so infinite pleasure every time his hips meets yours. Each stroke of his thick cock within your slick and clenching channel stokes the fire that burns within you, the tight friction exquisite. You can feel the hardness of his body against yours, the coolness of his skin a stark contrast to the inferno that rages beneath it.

His lips soon migrate to your ear, his voice a low, throaty whisper that makes your toes curl. "You are exquisite, my beloved acolyte," he murmurs, the words a silken promise that resonates within you. "So responsive, so beautifully wanton."

Your body arches into his touch, your breath hitching in your throat as he continues to worship you with his cock. His hands continue to roam over your body, exploring every dip and curve with a reverence that leaves you breathless. His touch is both firm and gentle, a contradiction that makes your head spin and your fingers claw at his back, taking lines of red that Morpheus welcomes with subtle groans.

The moans that spill from your lips grow sharper, the sound a clear indication of the swirling pleasure running through your veins. Morpheus' response is immediate, his mouth descending upon your breast with a voracity that takes your breath away. His lips close around your nipple, the sensation of his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

His tongue flicks over the hardened peak, each stroke a maddening tease that leaves you squirming beneath him. Your cunt clenches harder around his cock, the sensation his mouth suckling on your nipple drawing out nearly unbearable sensations.

Morpheus' begins to suck deeply, his mouth a hot, wet cavern that envelops your nipple with pure worship towards you, his precious acolyte. Your fingers find themselves in his silken hair, pushing his mouth into your heaving bosom as your nails scratch his scalp.

The hands on your hips tighten their grip to hold you in place as he begins to thrust his cock into you with a relentless precision. Each thrust jostles your body and draws a strangled sound from the depths of your throat. Worse, the sound of your bodies coming together, the slick slide of his cock within your cunt, brings such unbearable heat to your cheeks that your breaths begin to come in short, ragged gasps, each one punctuated by a litany of moans and pleas.

"Morpheus, please," you beg, your voice strained and raw.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, his starry eyes meeting yours as he slows to a thrust that is a maddeningly slow rhythm. "Please, what?" he murmurs, a wicked glint in his gaze. "Tell me what you need, beloved acolyte."

Your response is a desperate, needy whimper, the words spilling from your lips in a rush. How could he be so cruel to slow down when you were on the cusp of such ecstasy? "I need to come, please, Morpheus, make me come."

His laughter is a low, rumbling sound that reverberates through you, a reminder of the power he holds over your body. "Not yet, beloved," Morpheus purrs, his voice a silken thread that wraps around you, holding you captive to his will. "I want to see you squirm a little longer."

You can feel the tension coiling within you, your tightly wound pleasure that threatens to snap with the slightest touch. His cock continues to sheath itself within you, each thrust a delicious torment that brings you closer to the edge of release. You cling to him, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his back, his scalp, as you fight against the inevitable tide of pleasure that threatens to wash over you.

His hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of your skin with a reverence that leaves you breathless. His touch is both soothing and a spark that ignites an inferno within you, a contradiction that makes your head spin and your body ache for more.

"Please, Morpheus," you beg, your thighs shaking violently against his waist. "I can't hold on much longer."

He merely chuckles, the sound a dark promise of the pleasure yet to come. "I know, beloved acolyte," he murmurs, his lips trailing a path along your jawline. "But I want to savor this moment, to watch the beautiful way you come undone beneath me."

His words send a fresh wave of unbearable heat between your legs, your cunt clenching around his cock as you struggle to hold onto your control. It truly is unbearable now. Your breath hitches in your throat as he increases the pace of his thrusts, each stroke a maddening tease that brings you closer to the brink.

"Come for me, beloved acolyte," Morpheus commands, his eyes glowing silver. "Let go and surrender to the pleasure."

With his words, the dam within you breaks. Your body convulses beneath him, a tidal wave of ecstasy that ripples through every nerve and fiber of your being. Your cunt clamps down around his cock, the sensation of being filled by him sending you hurtling over the edge of release.

You cry out, your voice a ragged, keening wail that fills the room. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, a blinding flash of white-hot ecstasy that leaves you trembling and spent in its wake. Your body is a quivering mass of sensation, each nerve alight with the aftermath of your release.

Morpheus continues to thrust within you, drawing out your orgasm until you are boneless and limp beneath him. His lips find yours in a searing kiss that steals any breath you have left in your lungs until your eyes roll and can no longer respond.

When the aftershocks of your orgasm begin to fade and you are but a limp mess beneath him, Morpheus slows his movements, his cock still buried deep within you. His forehead rests against yours, the coolness of his skin a stark contrast to the heat that radiates from your own.

"You are exquisite," he murmurs, his starry eyes gazing into yours with an adoring warmth that takes your breath away. "The most beautiful acolyte I have ever had the pleasure of worshiping."

You lie there, your body still overwhelmed with the echoes of your orgasm, as Morpheus pulls back slightly, his gaze steady and unreadable. The cool air of the chamber is a sharp contrast to the heat that still lingers on your skin.

“How am I supposed to go back home?” Your voice is a strained whisper, the question hanging between you like a fragile thread.

Morpheus's lips curve into a faint smile. “Are you so eager to depart?”

“No,” you murmur, your eyes sluggishly meeting his. “But you bringing me here probably gave great aunt Margaret a heart attack. I was looking forward to her thanksgiving potluck…”

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, the sound rich and resonant. “No one has died,” he reassures you, his fingers trailing down your arm in a feather-light caress. The contact sends shivers racing across your skin, the lingering sensation of his touch almost too much to bear.

You nearly pout when he pulls away from your body, and watch as he rises from the bed. You take several moments to appreciate his body, the rippling muscles of his back, the curve of his ass. You presume you are allowed such thoughts considering he had nearly fucked your brains out. Silver blue eyes look back at you, and run down your body, appreciating you in his bed one last time.

You truly are a gift, however he does need to send you back.

Morpheus reluctantly summons your white dress back onto your body, the blood stains no longer marring it. The fabric feels soft and cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat still lingering from your encounter. You get up from the bed, feeling unsteady on your feet, and turn in a circle, amazed at the pristine condition of your dress.

Then you feel something warm running down your inner thigh. You flush with embarrassment as you realize it’s Morpheus' seed. The sensation is both mortifying and arousing, a reminder of his possession.

You glance up at him, catching the faintest smirk playing on his lips. HE knows exactly what has heat burning in your cheeks.

“Do not be embarrassed,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet wrapping around you. “It is a mark of our union.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over you like a cloak. Your breath catches as he steps closer, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. The air between you crackles with unspoken desire.

"Easy for you to say, you don't live with nosy old women," you point out before he reaches out, a finger trailing down your cheek in a gesture that is both tender and possessive.

“You are mine, now,” he whispers, the words a promise and a command all at once. The sound of his voice sends shivers racing down your spine. You can feel the heat pooling low in your belly again, an ache that only he can satisfy. A delicious and dismal thought. His hand moves to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes glow silver, unrestrained power. “Do you understand?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, and you part them instinctively, craving more of his touch. The air around you seems to thrum with energy, every nerve ending alive with anticipation.

“You will always be mine,” Morpheus continues, his voice low and commanding. “No matter where you go or what you do.”

The intensity of his gaze holds you captive, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. There is no denying the bond that has formed between you.

His other hand moves to rest on your hip, drawing you closer until there is barely any space between you. The sensation of his touch sends another wave of heat coursing through you.

“Remember this,” he says softly, leaning in until his lips are mere inches from yours. “Remember me, for I shall call upon you again.” You can feel his breath against your skin, warm and tantalizingly close. The urge to close the distance between you is almost unbearable. “Certainly within your dreams, I do believe I am allowed to be selfish with such a loyal acolyte.”

Selfish. Your mind can only think of one thing: more mind blowing sex. His lips descend upon yours while your mind is spinning, and he kisses you in a searing kiss that brands you to your very soul. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mixture of power and desire that leaves you breathless. His hands tangle in your hair, holding you captive as he plunders your mouth with a ravenous intensity that intends to spoil you for all others.

The world around you fades away, the only reality the sensation of his body pressed against yours, the feel of his tongue dancing with yours, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. You can feel the coolness of his power wrapping around you, a tangible force that whispers of ancient magic and untold mysteries.

And then, with a final brush of his lips against yours, he releases you, his starry eyes gazing into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "Remember your promise,” he murmurs, his voice a low, resonant sound that seems to echo through the very fabric of your being. “I shall see you tonight, little acolyte.”

Before you can respond, the world around you shifts and shimmers, the walls of his chamber fading away to be replaced by the familiar surroundings of your family's sacred space. You stand there, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

The sensation of Morpheus' seed still warm and dripping between your thighs brings you back to reality with a start. Your mother's wide, horrified eyes are the first thing you see, followed by the sea of faces belonging to the old women of your family. They all start talking at once, their voices a cacophony of sound that reverberates through the room.

"Where have you been?" your mother demands, her hands clutching at your arms as she searches your face for any sign of what has transpired.

"Did you see him? Did you see Dream?" one of the old women exclaims, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear.

"What happened to your dress?" another woman cries out, pointing at the pristine white fabric that now covers your body. The old garment looked pristine and new, a far cry from the old state it had been in previously.

You can feel their eyes on you, their questions washing over you like a tide, but you can't seem to focus on any one of them. All you can think about is the feel of Morpheus' hands on your body, the taste of him still lingering on your lips, the wetness between your legs that serves as a stark reminder of what has just transpired.

Your mother's voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, her tone sharp and insistent. "Are you alright?" she asks, her eyes searching yours with a mixture of concern and dread.

You nod, your voice lost in the maelstrom of emotions that swirl within you. You can feel the weight of their stares, the heat of their curiosity, but all you want is to be alone, to process everything that has happened.

The sensation of Morpheus' seed slipping down your thigh brings a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks. You can feel your face burning with embarrassment, the evidence of your union with the Lord of Dreams a tangible reminder of the bond that has formed between you.

The questions continue to fly around you, each one a sharp reminder of the world you have returned to. But amidst the chaos, your mind is filled with images of Morpheus, his touch, his taste, his voice whispering in your ear.

The memory of his words sends a shiver racing down your spine, a reminder of the promise he made to you. "You are mine, now," he had said, his voice a low, throaty purr. "Remember me, for I shall call upon you again."

You blink several times, trying to clear the haze of the Dreaming from your mind. The room spins slightly, and you steady yourself by gripping the edge of a nearby table. Your legs still feel shaky. Your mother's face comes into focus, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and curiosity.

"No one ever said Morpheus was hot," you blurt out, still disoriented.

Your mother's jaw drops, and the grannies around you gasp in unison. Whispers ripple through the room like a wave, each voice carrying a mix of disbelief and scandalized intrigue. You doubt they'll leave the topic be for weeks.

Date Published: 2/8/25

Last Edit: 2/8/25

Morpheus Masterlist

12 Days of Smutmas 2024 Masterlist

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