#also me: no ♥

[ryuki-draws]

Oh lord, there's two of them now

[kanamesengoku]

[strqyr]

— yang & making weiss laugh ♥

[sysig]

Gift (Patreon)

[ro-bee]

CHAT MASSIVE MONSTER JUST CONFIRMED GOATMURA????

LOOK!!!

[ronnierosest]

Zakkura "So he never initiates, never asks, and waits." - inspired by a fanfiction we're friends, right? (very adult) by totosheadset

[srdcovka]

jenny slate / 911 2x10 / st sebastian tended by the holy irene by régnier / 911 4x13 / vita sackville-west / 911 5x12 / the birth of venus by hirschl / 911 5x12/ unknown

[arborescreens]

you've got some big pawprints to fill, mailbox ♥ (separate mailbox ref here!)

[rotten-dan-art]

Some drawings of my friend @sadisthetic's OC, Seltzer!

I miiiiiiiiiiiiiigh have a massive crush on his toxic ass. Im a certified seltzer apologist actually ♥

[jinstronaut]

i still orbit you, and nothing’s changed, but if there’s no name to love, everything has changed. (cr. namuspromised, lyric translation doolsetbangtan)

happy birthday @cordiallyfuturedwight 💜💜💜

[just-french-me-up]

If you'd still like Dreamling kiss prompts, how about 7 or 17?

@martybaker asked : Hello, your fics are so lovely! May I humbly request ‘A kiss to shut them up’ if you’re still taking prompts? 👉👈 @anonymous asked : Thoughts on dreamling 7 or 17 (to shut them up or to distract - maybe even both at once?) for the kiss prompts?

We're shutting him up, yall! This is a Retired!Dream one, in which Dream struggles with the human body and human condition, and can't see how he can measure up to his old self in Hob's eyes. Angsty you say? Deceivingly horny I raise you! I kept this sorta M rated but... hey if there's more to come *winkwink* who knows?

The human body was a curious thing. It required constant attention, fluids, fuel, maintenance, care. And yet it was so... limiting. Morpheus could still remember how it felt, to think of a place and feel the ground shift under his feet without ever having to move. There had been no hunger then. No thirst. No itching, for his skin had never had the notion that it could be too dry.

If he had ever felt those things, it had been because he had chosen to.

Now the world imposed itself to him, there wasn't much of a choice.

Urges baffled him the most. The dryness coating his mouth on a particularly hot day, his mind conjuring up images of cold, condensation-weeping bottles. The drowsiness taking hold of him after dinner, weighing on his eyelids. The burning, devouring heat flaring in his abdomen as Hob would step out of the shower, a towel lazily tied around his hips, the line of hair trailing down his navel guiding Morpheus' gaze downwards.

It was a strange thing, to be overcome by such sensations. An infuriating thing, really. He ought to be able to resist them. He had been able to resist them, once, to ignore them, dismiss them into nothing if he so chose. How vexing it was, to be a creature of wants and needs, when your existence had been nothing but careful control.

He would not tell Hob, but he could not help but feel... lesser. How clever could his mind be, now that he only had access to his own? How good could his hands be, he who had been able to breathe life into dream clay, fashion lands and castles with a single thought? How pleasing could his touch be, now that he was barred from his lover's unconscious? How could he compare to who and what he had been, once?

They had not made love ever since his encounter with the Kindly Ones. Hob had never pushed, reading Morpheus far better than Morpheus ever could, now. There had been times, here and there, when Morpheus had thought they would, with lingering kisses growing deeper, embraces in bed tighter, but something had held him back. Some bitter gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach. Yet another thing he could not seem to control.

Yet he wanted. Desperately, frustratingly so. The most mundane things would strike him as the most erotic sights he could fathom. Hob drinking his coffee in the morning, his Adam's apple bobbing as he'd swallow. Hob reading the day's papers, his gaze intent, focused. Hob reaching up to grab this or that from a cupboard, his shirt riding up and showing his navel, while his tired pajama bottoms hung from his hips, revealing the slight dips there, a hint of hair...

Morpheus' body would betray him often, subjecting him to fantasies and erections that, much like the rest, he held little control over. Unlike food, lust was a hunger he never seemed to satisfy. It only grew.

If Hob had ever caught him staring, he never said anything. Instead, he was highly skilled at noticing when Morpheus' mind would start spinning on itself, feeding the loop of existential dread looming over him. He had taken to giving Morpheus tasks, then, something to focus on. Although it would not quite clear the storm, it muffled it somewhat.

Perhaps he'd sensed another one of Morpheus' spirals that night, when his voice rose from the bedroom.

"Oh, bollocks! Love? Might need a hand here."

As he stepped inside the bedroom, Morpheus found Hob standing by the mirror, struggling with his button-up. He flashed a quick contrite smile at him, emphatically tugging at the fabric.

"Can't manage to button those buggers off," he explained.

"Allow me."

The human condition was one thing, but buttons he could handle. Morpheus' touch was methodical, surgical almost, as he focused on the task at hand, yet three buttons later, he could not help but feel his focus slip. He could feel Hob's warmth under his fingertips. His heartbeat. As he breathed in, Hob's scent filled his lungs, distracting him further. By the time he was done with the shirt, his mind had gone elsewhere.

Hob wore an undershirt, a thin, almost see-through thing. It required barely any effort to see his chest in spite of the fabric. Morpheus' eyes trailed down, heat flushing his cheeks. Mindlessly, his thumb traced the line of hair down Hob's abdomen, his mouth filled with want. He could feel hot breath against his lips. Humans were not meant to withstand such hunger.

They were kissing before Morpheus could articulate another thought, Hob's mouth warm and soft against his, the coarse brush of his stubble adding fuel to the fire overtaking him. No doubt Hob had meant for this to be tender, but Morpheus was famished, taking, and taking, and taking all that was offered until his lungs might explode. He found himself gasping against Hob, nose to nose, forehead to forehead.

"Hey," Hob whispered, gentle to a fault. "It's okay. There's no rush."

Morpheus swallowed hard, feverishly catching his breath. Hob's palm was invitingly cool against his cheek.

"I will keep," he continued. "We don't have to―"

"I want to," Morpheus rasped, weeks of frustration pushing the words out of him. "I want you. I just―"

"Just what?"

The patience in his voice was the lifeline Morpheus held onto as he sighed, embarrassment flooding through him.

"This form, it feels... finite. Flawed. Lacking."

Fallible, he did not say. He watched as Hob's eyes grew round, ridicule joining embarrassment.

"Duck―"

"I am not as I once was," he continued, overcome with the need to justify himself. "I am no longer suited to anticipate your every want. I can not satisfy you to the degree I once could. Everything I have to offer is bound to disappoint in comparison."

Hob's stare felt heavy, too heavy for Morpheus to hold, but as he looked away, Hob took his chin between his fingers, directing his gaze back to him.

"Love, I―. Sex is not about making some kind of... of ranking."

"Your unconscious would rank it, regardless."

"Fuck my unconscious. It's my conscious self who wants you, magic dick or not."

The corners of Hob's mouth twitched at his own joke, but seriousness soon took over.

"I love you," he said, prompting Morpheus to look away again. "I love you. I would love you Endless, I would love you human, I would love you if you were a tentacled monster and hell, you've been that before if you'd recall!"

Morpheus fought back the smile creeping up on his lips.

"I never cared how we'd fuck. Well, I did, but― I did because it was you. I wanted to be with you. I still do."

Hob sighed, and they stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other.

"At least now we know that mind of yours is well and truly yours and not a Dream of the Endless exclusive."

"An unfortunate discovery."

Hob's hand settled on Morpheus' waist, his thumb brushing the fabric of his shirt.

"I do want you," he said. "Whenever you're ready. If ever. But I don't want you holding back because you've convinced yourself I may not enjoy it well enough, according to some cosmic standard you've set for yourself."

Morpheus nodded slowly, his own thumb back to tracing the happy trail on Hob's stomach.

"I have always found you pleasing enough, after all," he dared, shooting a tentative look at Hob. "As human as you are."

Hob made a face, pulling him closer by the waist.

"Your compliments need work, duck. But I do think there's a silver lining to this whole human condition you are overlooking."

"Is that so?"

Hob smirked at him, fully conscious of how devilishly handsome that made him. He had had, after all, centuries to hone those skills. How long would it take him?

"You no longer have access to my unconscious, right?"

"I do not."

"Which means you can no longer anticipate my every want, as you said."

Now that was rubbing salt into the wound.

"Yes," he conceded with a frown.

"Well imagine how arousing it is, my love," Hob said, his eyes darker by the second, "to be able to surprise you."

A warm shiver went down Morpheus' spine, sending his pulse into a frantic race. He swallowed thickly, holding Hob's gaze.

"How arousing?"

"Very. Cock-achingly, one might say."

Morpheus glanced down, finding Hob's trousers tight, his hard cock pressing against the fabric, making his knees weak. The human body truly was weak in the most delicious way.

"I could dare you to surprise me," he teased back, his breathing loud in his ears.

"You could."

Gods, that mouth of his, Morpheus was quite certain he could be undone from that tone alone. But still.

"But should you find me displeasing, you ought to―"

The rest of his words were swallowed into a kiss, unheard and discarded, replaced by tender sighs and wanting hands, and after a while, Morpheus found he'd forgotten what they even were, his mind blissfully blank save for pleasure.

The human body was a curious thing. A highly pleasing thing, at times.

Send me a kissing prompt?

[seance]

THE MUSKETEERS 10TH ANNIVERSARY REWATCH / fave episodes [2/?] ↳ SEASON 1, EPISODE 4 / the good soldier

[sysig]

Two skeletons in a trench lab coat (Patreon)

Bonus:

He’s very careful! Everything was fine before you interrupted!

[maddymoreau]

Grant Turner commission by @lavendelleaf

[coloursflyaway]

Your works always make me feel so cherish ed and spoiled while reading them. If you’re open to requests, I’d love to see something where Charles is struggling with feelings of inadequacy, and Edwin decides to spoil him a bit. Hope you have a wonderful day!

Thank you so much, I am so glad you enjoyed them ♥♥♥ And thank you for the prompt!!

____

„I should have done more“, Charles tells him, pacing across the agency’s floor, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, in a way that makes Edwin imagine he can see his footsteps carving themselves into the floorboards. „I should have done just something. Been faster, or should have just noticed that they were coming earlier, just something.“

It’s been going on like this for more than thirty minutes now, Edwin checking the time on the clock on their desk periodically. And he understands it, feels some of the guilt that is clearly wrecking Charles himself – Niko has gotten hurt on a case earlier, because none of them had paid attention on the third witch of the coven hiding in the shadows, waiting for a chance to strike – but while Crystal had taken Niko to the hospital and Edwin has resolved himself to pay more attention next time, Charles seems unable to let it go.

Edwin has tried to console him, has tried to alleviate his pain with soft words and reassurances and everything in between, but it doesn’t seem to make a lick of difference. It’s like Charles is stuck in a loop of this, unable to see a simple, but important truth: that none of them expect him to be perfect all the time.

Niko will be fine, the cut from the witch’s knife deep but not dangerous in any way, but not even a phone call from Crystal informing them of the fact enough to soothe any of Charles’ anguish.

“I’m so stupid, who would forget that there was a third one? Me, that’s who. I should have just -”

And it’s just too much; Edwin cannot listen to a word more of this.

Charles is still pacing, so caught up in whatever is going on in his head that he doesn’t even notice Edwin getting up and crossing the few metres between them, which is so unlike him it hurts something deep within Edwin’s chest. And it’s that hurt that makes it even easier to reach out and put a hand on Charles’ shoulder, not feeling the fabric of his jacket but feeling Charles beneath it anyway, the thrum of his energy and the solidity of his astral form and the importance he has to Edwin, unmatched in this universe and all others.

This, at least, Charles registers, and just as he starts to turn, Edwin pulls him close, tucks Charles’ head beneath his chin and leaves his hand on the back of his neck so even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to escape. Edwin’s other arm snakes around Charles’ waist, wrapping around him tight, and for a moment, there is tension within him, Edwin feels it as much as his soul can sense it, eternally tied to Charles’ as it is, but then it leaves him with what feels like a sigh, a tidal wave.

“You’re doing enough”, Edwin tells him, whispers it into his mess of curls and feels Charles shudder at the touch. “You’re keeping all of us safe, every day, and Niko will be fine. The next time, we will know to keep a better watch. It’s not your fault, it wasn’t even your responsibility. We are a team, and we will get better as one, too. But you have to stop blaming yourself for it. You’re doing enough. You are enough. And I love you the most of absolutely anything in this world or the next. Alright?”

For a moment, there is nothing, no answer, but then, slowly, ever so slowly, Charles wraps his arms around Edwin in return, sinking into the hug like all the strength in his body has left him at once.

“You promise?”, he asks, half against Edwin’s collarbone, and his voice is still strained and soft and hurt, but the mania of before is gone, the tension, the almost-desperation.

“I promise. Of course, I do.”

And there is another pause, Charles’ fingers gripping at Edwin’s jacket, his cheek nuzzling Edwin’s shoulder; later tonight, they will curl up on the sofa and Edwin will kiss Charles as many times as he needs it, will put Charles’ head into his lap and kiss his eyelids closed, and will read him a story they have both read a thousand times before.

A sigh, then, “Alright. If you say so.”

And as he presses a kiss to Charles’ head, Edwin thinks, yes. They’ll be alright.