#around morpheus he's always just so sweet

[cuubism]

Hi, may I ask about the bachelor au please and thank you:3

omg yes. i made a post once about how unhinged a dreamling Bachelor au would be, and then i actually started writing it XD

it's a bit messy/unformatted right now, because it's a sort of outsider POV structure where it alternates between scenes from the TV show and chat commentary from the internet fandom who are watching 😂 hopefully one day I'll actually write all of it

A scene from probably the last/second-to-last episode of the season. The final two "contestants" in the show were Hob (who Morpheus keeps insisting he doesn't have feelings for despite everything he does proving otherwise) and Thessaly.

--

Morpheus leans on the railing, hunched in on himself. Rain pelts down onto his head, flattening his hair and soaking his clothes. Hob steps out through the sliding door, heedless of the rain, to stand beside him, and rests a hand on Morpheus’s back. Hob: Didn’t work out, then? His voice is softer than usual, almost inaudible over the rain. Not playful, or teasing, as it so often is with Morpheus, it’s just… gentle. Morpheus: She… decided… that she no longer loved me. Hob: Poor darling. Again, it’s not teasing, only a bit… sad. Morpheus: I suppose this means that you win. Hob: Yup. Morpheus curls into him, pressing his face into Hob’s chest with a sob. Hob catches him, wraps his arms around his shoulders, and holds him tight. Hob presses a kiss into his hair. Low enough that it’s clearly intended not to be picked up by the mics, he says— Hob: It’s alright, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay— —as Morpheus keeps crying.

INTERVIEW — HOB Hob’s expression is lacking its usual cheer and mischief. His hair is still wet, as though he’s only recently come in out of the rain. Hob: So I guess I won? Interviewer: You don’t sound happy about it. It takes a moment for Hob to respond. He bites his lip in thought, then sighs. Hob: I— it was just supposed to be a game. I thought— I thought we felt the same way about it, I thought— I didn’t even care if I won at first? So it was just for fun, just this totally ridiculous nightmare of a— He scrubs a hand over his face, messing up his hair. Hob: Seeing Dream like that, I didn’t realize, I didn’t realize what it— Interviewer: ‘Dream’? Hob: Hm? Interviewer: You called him Dream. Hob: Did I?

[holybibly]

Today's unholy thoughts, bunnies 🐰

Let's talk about Seonghwa as a trophy househusband who is neglected both sexually and in terms of love and who is perhaps overly attracted to the best friend of his wife's daughter.

Seonghwa is gentle, sensual, and too needy for the constant praise and adulation he doesn't get. He has big, shining eyes, plump, soft lips, a velvety voice, and a completely unhealthy obsession with the pretty best friend of his 'daughter'. 

He knows it's wrong, or a small part of his knows it, but the way you look at him lovingly and the sweetness of your voice as you praise him, saying what a wonderful househusband he is and how well he keeps such a big house perfectly clean, makes his thoughts go in another direction. 

Seonghwa wants to hear you praise him while his beautiful, gentle face is buried in your little pink pussy and his tongue slides expertly between the soft, moist folds. And Seonghwa knows exactly how pink your cunt is because he has a couple of naughty photos of you that he took while you were sleeping. 

You had a habit of sleeping in nothing but a silk top and panties. The way the thin lace gathered between your labia, giving him a glimpse of your naked, sweet pussy, was too tempting for him to hold back his desires. 

He would never be able to say it openly, but he might have licked you between your legs while you were in Morpheus's sweet embrace, so ready and available for him. And now he can't help but think of how heavenly you taste on his tongue every time he looks at you. 

Seonghwa may only be thinking it, but he feels that you've been staring at him for too long, so he tries to dress as beautifully as possible and as suggestively as possible. 

On purpose, he wears transparent blouses so that you can see his hard, dark pink nipples and trousers that are too tight to show off his long legs and magnificent ass to perfection. He even paints his lips with your favourite gloss and deliberately licks them with his tongue, so you can't take your eyes off him for more than a second. 

He may look a little desperate when he invites you to sit on his lap during a family trip out on the town. Of course, it's all completely unintentional. There are just not enough seats in the car; he doesn't know how to drive; his "daughter" gets sick; and Seonghwa didn't intentionally pack things in the car in such a way that you have nowhere to sit except on his lap.

But most importantly, Seonghwa chooses the track perfectly—twisty, terribly long, with a broken road. And who else but him will hold you tight when the car jumps at the next pit. 

Seonghwa also knows that you hate trousers and shorts, so you always wear those unaffordable short skirts and slutty little thongs that don't stop him from discreetly touching you the way he wants. Maybe he accidentally forgot to button his jeans, or maybe he did it on purpose so that the wet, swollen head of his dick would rub against your tender ass throughout the trip.

Seonghwa is just too sensitive and needy to intentionally drool on your shoulder from this tiny stimulation and moan pitifully into your ear when his cock accidentally slips between your ass cheeks.

He apologises shyly, crumpling a long sweater in his hands, and says that he didn't mean to do it, that it happened by accident, and that he's incredibly ashamed of it. He receives a reply from you: "It's okay, Seonghwa, I understand. It can happen to anyone." 

And the way his name rolls off your tongue makes him come almost immediately without any touching.

It may get painfully icky to feel constantly aroused around you, but he can't help but imagine you riding his cock while his mouth sucks on your pretty tits when he happens to see you masturbating in the bath. 

Oh God, the way your cunt embraces the thick pink dildo, squeezing and stretching around the silicone toy, brings him to his knees. He would give absolutely everything just to fill your cunt with his cock, and he could swear that he would stretch you out much better than that stupid toy. 

Most likely, Seonghwa is going crazy waking up to the ghostly feeling of your lips wrapped around his leaking, throbbing cock because he is sure this will never happen in reality. 

Or maybe you just got tired of his ingratiating wet looks and decided to force him into action by waking him up with a blowjob while your girlfriend and her mother went shopping for breakfast, leaving you alone with the sweet and gentle Seonghwa. 

And the sight of his back arching and his soft, sensual mouth parting with a soft moan as his thick cum pours into your mouth is much sweeter for you than any pancakes for breakfast.

[hunny-beann]

I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3

Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.

That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.

She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.

That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.

Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

ao3 link

[roguelov]

Invisible Hands

Request: Ok. Okokokok from the kinktober list (ignore this if you aren't interested ofc) Morpheus and the ghost prompt. Imagine either the reader or Morpheus is the ghost and the ghost can touch the other but they can't touch the ghost. Like they can be teased endlessly and there's nothing they can grab so extra intense like just imagine if only reader can see ghost Morpheus or he can become invisible then he could tease them anywhere he wanted like the possibilities are corrupting my soul

Notes: Thank you my sweet panini anon!

Word Count: ~2.7k

Reader: afab (referred to as my dear/my love)

Warnings: SMUT (ghost!Morpheus, breast play, fingering, dirty talk, doggy, window/mirror sex, light exhibition, voyeurism, penetrative sex)

Inhaling the aromas, a pleased hum rumbled in your throat and harmonized with the sizzling vegetables in the skillet. Your stomach grumbled, eager and wishing to devour your dinner now. Shaking your head, a joking smile curled over your lips. Soon, you told yourself. Soon you will feast then crawl into bed.

Yet, someone else had plans, someone wanted to disrupt your peace.

Hands - cold and firm - wrapped around your waist. You gasped. Panic flooded your system, but it all quickly dissipated. Frustration, and some embarrassment, swiftly overtook your flash of panic.

“Morpheus,” you hissed under your breath.

A low chuckle reverberated near your ear.

You whipped your head over your shoulder, throwing a heated glare. And yet, there was no one. Perhaps if you squinted you may see the vague wispy outline of a man, or perhaps it was your imagination conjuring such a shape.

“Cheeky,” you grumbled at the empty space.

Morpheus was a ghost, a gentleman from a bygone era struck dead and doomed to haunt the grounds. Unfortunately over the years, the grounds had been purchased and built on. From a shop, to a house, to finally an apartment complex, Morpheus was the one constant that stayed and had become a resident as well so to speak. And best of all - or worst depending on your view - Morpheus in turn had become your ghost, specifically your spectral lover. You weren’t sure when and how it all started, the beginning was all foggy with the thick haze of lust.

But, you didn’t mind.

He was yours, and you were his.

His hands trailed down, slipping under your baggy shirt. Your own hands flew down trying to stop the demanding hands, however they passed through them.

“Morpheus -“

“Pay no mind to me,” a rich voice cooed in your ear. “Please, continue to focus on cooking your dinner.”

You wanted to roll your eyes. “How can I -“

Your breath hitched. His fingers skimmed up your sides then danced below your breasts. Your eyes dropped down. Your shirt was bunched up. The lumps and movements of hands constantly roamed beneath. His touch was insatiable. He wished to map out your curves … again. He truly could never tire of the softness of your skin, the warmth, the life which flowed through you. While due to his nature, he on the other hand was frighteningly cold. His hands were always so cold they were like ice against your searing skin.

His palm pressed into your stomach, making you shiver. His lips brushed over your ear then dipped below to gently kiss your neck. His hand moved back up. A light hum tumbled off your lips. His fingers brushed along the underside of your soft breasts. “No bra?” He murmured with a teasing tone.

A heat licked at your cheeks. “I - I am home, why would I?”

“A valid reason, my dear, but are you sure you were not waiting for me?”

You scoffed, “You give yourself a lot of credit.”

“I believe my work can speak for itself.” His slender fingers pinched your sensitive nipples. Your eyes widened, and you swallowed back a sinful sound. “I do believe I always leave you more than satisfied, yes? But, do correct me if I’m wrong?”

What a smug man.

He then began to knead and play with your breasts, loving how such a delicate task left you panting and growing desperate. His thumbs then swept over your nipples. Electricity shot down your spine. So cold, so wonderful. You dropped the wooden spoon, letting it clatter to the ground. Your vegetables will most likely burn at this right.

Fuck.

Morpheus hummed, pleased to see you holding back. He will make you sing soon enough. Your body was his most cherished instrument. With every tug, every twist, every pluck, he could orchestrate such a sweet melody. Your body will bend to him. And he knew what chords to play, and in what order, to achieve it. Such as if he truly wanted to make you sing right now, he could wrap his lips around your nipples and suck on them. You always made such lovely sounds when his tongue was involved.

“Relax,” he purred.

Fall into me, bend to me, he thought.

You choked on your words, “My - my dinner -“

The stove clicked, shutting off itself. The pan slid to the side off of the hot burner. Morpheus was growing impatient, and his hunger knew no bounds. “Let me take care of you.”

He twisted your nipples. You moaned so beautifully for him. You finally leaned your head back, relieved to have a solid presence to support you. You had no fight, no more retorts.

You wanted him.

His lips skimmed over your neck. Goosebumps trailed behind in their chilly path. He then pressed gentle, loving kisses into your skin. Each one a proclamation of his desire for you. His hands gave your breasts a break. But, not your body. Oh no, like before he wanted to make you sing. They slid down your stomach then traced along the waistband of your shorts. His fingers glided over once, then twice, before dipping below the band. His finger immediately swirled around your clit, then slid between your folds. He swiped between them, rubbing and teasing you.

A devious smile painted across Morpheus’s face. You were dripping for now, and you always were. “So wet,” he smirked. “I thought you said I give myself too much credit.”

“Please,” you whispered breathlessly. You tipped your head back, trying to look back at your lover, at where you believed his eyes were. You reached up, swiping at the space where his face would be for it to only connect with air. “I need you.”

I want to touch you, to feel you, to kiss you.

He snickered. “Allow me to have my fun, my dear. I assure you you will be satisfied as usual.”

“But -“

A finger slowly pushed inside of you. A small yet delicious stretch made your back arch. You bit your lip, holding back your moan. Morpheus’s eyes dazzled with excitement. You truly were so wondrous. He could watch you all day and night, all your cute lovely expressions.

A hand cupped your face, drawing you into the invisible space. Your eyes fluttered closed as you used your other senses to guide you. Cool lips brushed over yours. You chased after them. He huffed, a small laugh through his nose. It was always nice to see you were addicted to him as much as he was to you. He captured your lips. You hummed, melting into him. His lips moved with such precision. He poured hot passion into your veins. He will burn you from the inside out if he must.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as your mind focused solely on his lips, on the feeling of him. You tried to grab him - something - but to no avail.

You were simply at his mercy.

His finger curled inside of you. You moaned loudly, but Morpheus swallowed it up. His tongue dove in between your lips, swirling around. He explored your mouth. His tongue danced with yours. You tried to fight back, but you couldn’t. He consumed you and all your senses. Morpheus dominated you, and your knees trembled with every swipe of his vile tortuous tongue.

But, you shouldn’t focus only on his tongue.

That was your mistake.

His finger began to pump at a lazy pace. How could you forget? His fingers were vile and tortuous too.

He drew back, breaking the kiss. You whined faintly. Your eyes were still closed, your brows furrowed in a frustrated knot, and your lips were utterly abused and sopped from the messy kiss. His finger gradually picked up its pace. Your eyes flew open.

He chuckled, “You, my dear, always amaze me.”

He added a second finger, filling you more and satiated the ache for more. You whimpered, bucking your hips. Deeper, faster, harder, you wanted him to ruin you.

“And always so responsive.”

His fingers curled again hitting the perfect spot. You moan, squirming in his grasp.

His lips brushed against yours again murmuring, “And always so pretty when you come for me.”

Tears prickled in your eyes. You searched and searched wildly but saw nothing, not your Morpheus. All you saw was the dull ceiling and walls of your kitchen. “Morpheus -“

“Shh, I got you. I told you, let me take care of you.”

He removed his fingers with a graphic wet sound. Your cheeks burned. His hands grabbed the hem of your shirt pulling it up and over your head. Your breast spilled into the air. Morpheus wasted no time, pinching your nipples again. You groaned, burying your head towards him. Seeing you so flustered and needy, he supposed he could make this a little faster. His own arousal was becoming difficult to fight back on anyway. With a small trick, he phased your shorts and underwear off your body, leaving you now fully bare in your kitchen. The cold air against your glistening cunt made you shiver. Hands then gently pushed you forward, making you bend over the counter. You pressed your sweaty forehead into the cool countertop. You peered over your shoulder.

Still no one.

You pouted. Yet, your pout dropped as a silent moan fell from your lips. Something teased your folds. You recognized the thick shape as Morpheus’s cock. You pushed back, desperate to take him. But, he pulled back, keeping just his tip between your folds.

“Stop teasing me,” you begged.

His cock rubbed through your folds. He rocked his hips, lightly humping you. Your mind began to splinter. Lust clouded your mind. Needs and wants curled around your throat, threatening to squeeze out all your depraved secrets. You met his shallow thrust, feeling the head of his cock rub against your swollen clit. Each thrust - the mind numbing friction - made you cry out.

“Please,” you panted.

You needed to feel him fill you and stretch you.

“Say it again,” he growled.

You let out a shaky breath, “Please, Morpheus.”

Grabbing his cock, he slowly pushed inside. You clawed at the smooth counter. Inch by delicious inch, he filled your cunt until he bottomed out. Morpheus curled his body over you. His lips kissed your neck, and his chiseled chest pressed into your back. The coolness mixed well with your perspiration.

Hot and cold.

Dead and alive.

“Are you ready,” he purred in your ear.

You nodded, biting your lip. His hips rocked slowly. His cock dragged out through your walls before pushing back in.

Soft, teasing thrusts. One to make you desperate.

“Morpheus,” you whimpered.

His cock continued the painstakingly slow pace, loving the sensation of your walls clamping down around him and pulling him back in. You didn’t need to say anything, your body screamed for more.

“You’re taking me so well,” he hummed.

You swore you could cry. “Fuck, faster please.”

He smirked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Please.”

His hips snapped, setting a brutal new pace. All the air caught in your throat. Your eyes widened then nearly rolled back. Your head fell onto the counter. For now, all you could hear was the slapping of skin. Turning your head, you peered over and locked onto the nearby window. With the dark backdrop and the light inside, it acted like a mirror. You could watch your body being pummeled. You watched as your ass jiggled and contorted, you watched as your breasts bounced with every thrust, you watched as the obvious handprints dug into your malleable skin and hips daring to leave permanent marks.

Your lust rattled mind realized something: the curtains were opened. Apartments across the way could watch you, watch as nothing absolutely ruined.

Would someone think you were fucking yourself? Would they be confused? Would they be turned on? If Morpheus shifted his body, could you watch as his invisible cock filled you, stretching you?

You shivered at your thoughts.

Morpheus’s chuckle broke you out of your thoughts. He saw you eyeing the window. He saw what you saw. “Oh? Do you like to watch?” He paused, considering something else. “Or would you like someone else to watch?”

Words lodged in your throat.

“I can feel you clenching around me, my love,” he teased. You buried your face in your forearms, embarrassed how much this all truly turned you on. “Look. Now do you like to watch me?”

You peered out of the corner of your eye. After his question, his body became corporeal. He was a well built man, toned and lean. His back and arm muscles rippled with every thrust. His pale skin seemed to glow brighter in death. His hair was black as Death’s robes, and cropped short. His eyes shone like pale blue moons. Here he was, Morpheus, your ghost lover in all of his glory. A man whose face belonged in renaissance paintings, spoken as a king or a lord. A man from an era of courtship and marriage, of hidden letters passed between lovers, of romance and roses. And yet here he was, his long heavy cock pounding in and out.

He fucked you like a toy, his toy.

You watched, utterly memorized.

“Or only like this?” His body disappeared again, leaving only the sounds of his destruction upon your body.

You whimpered.

“Answer me, sweet one,” his voice whispered next to your ear.

“B-both,” you stuttered out. You loved watching him, and you loved knowing you were simply at his mercy.

Your ghost, your monster.

“Can - can I see you?” You asked under your breath. You desperately wanted to see him, to see his body and face. Tonight, you needed him, all of him.

“Of course.”

His body reformed. You sighed happily. His head was tipped forward. His lips parted, panting. You swore with each puff, a cold chill spread over your back. His hair - usually slicked back - flopped in his face, begging to be played with. Your eyes fell to his cock, coated in your combined juices.

Pleasure crackled down your spine.

Yet, Morpheus was not satisfied. He moved you a few inches away from the counter. He bent you down more, hitting a new angle. Stars exploded behind your eyes. His blunt tip kissed your cervix over and over. You moaned loudly without a care.

“There,” he mused. “Right there. So beautiful, so sweet.”

Head hanging, you grabbed the edge of the counter, trying to hold on and keep yourself up. But, your thigh and knees shook, threatening to crumble. The stretch was intoxicating. You could hardly catch your breath. Opening your eyes, you watched as Morpheus’s cock disappeared in and out of you. Your stomach even bulged at this angle. Your mouth hung open and you swore drool pooled at your lip. You closed your eyes, focusing on the rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Morpheus, please, I’m so close,” you whined, greedily matching his pace. You began to erratically hump his cock, desperate for your release.

Without saying a word, one of his hands on your hips snaked down between your legs. His fingers circled around your needy swollen clit. Your back arched. You moaned, it was all the encouragement he needed to keep going.

“Then come, my love,” he purred, pounding feverishly into you. “Let me so you unravel, let me hear you sing, let me see you come all over my cock. I want you to make a mess on me, my love.”

You writhed, feeling the pressure build and build ready to snap.

“Watch me fill you, my love.” His fingers moved faster drawing more aching circles.

You were almost there.

“I told you to watch.” He lightly smacked your clit. You gasped, your eyes snapped open. Your eyes connected back to how his cock pumped into your cunt. “Perfect.”

He could tell you were watching by the way your walls tightened around him. It had seemed he had found an unspoken kink of yours.

“Now, be good for me, and come on me.”

Seeing his thick cock fuck you, feeling his blunt tip hitting the deepest parts of you, and his sweet words all combined tougher and pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name, coming all over his cock. Your knees nearly gave out. Luckily, Morpheus held you up. He worked you through your orgasm leaving you floating in utter bliss. After a few more pumps, he buried himself to the hilt, moaning.

The aftermath and heavy panting filled the air. Ever so slowly, Morpheus removed himself. You suddenly felt so empty.

“Let me help you.” Morpheus whispered tenderly. “I’ll prepare a bath for you.”

“Please,” you mumbled, now exhausted.

He laughed then kissed your back. “Of course, my love.”

[dyns33]

For a smile

Dream of the Endless x female reader, sweet fools as ever

Following the formalization of their relationship, Morpheus had been very clear with Y/N on two points.

He wasn't dancing, and he wasn't laughing.

Regarding the first point, he never gave a real explanation, simply refusing to move as Y/N spun around him to the music, frozen like a statue and calmly repeating that he didn't dance, ever.

Concerning his laughter, she had managed to make him laugh several times, and it quickly became apparent that he was simply ashamed, because this laughter was quite peculiar, to use simple and neutral terms, since the dreams master was easily hurt. It was likely that he was also simply ashamed of the way he danced.

Y/N had made the decision not to force him to do things he didn't like or that made him uncomfortable. It seemed normal in a relationship after all, even if Morpheus had some difficulty with the concept at first.

Fortunately they had talked about it, and he had come to accept his mortal lover's requests, even if he didn't understand them all.

“Why do you want me to knock on your door to enter your home ?”

"Because maybe I'm busy or with someone."

"… Do you have things to hide from me, agápi mou ?"

"No, but it's just being polite. I know I enter your kingdom every night without really asking you, but you sense that I'm coming. For my part, I almost have a heart attack every time you appear behind me without making a sound."

"I can send Matthew to let you know I'm coming so you won't be surprised."

"Dream. The door."

“Very well, agápi mou.”

"… I'm really not hiding anything from you, you know ?"

“I know, I was just saying that to tease you.”

It was sometimes difficult to know what Morpheus was thinking.

Not always, because the Dreaming reflected his mood without him being able to do anything about it, and he had difficulty with certain feelings, like sadness or anger.

But joy. Dream of the Endless had difficulty expressing joy.

It wasn't just the laughter that was the problem. He rarely smiled. So rarely that Y/N almost jumped the first time she saw this wonder appear on his face, and he had no excuse to hide this sweetness from her. His skin hadn't cracked, his features hadn't distorted, he was even more handsome than usual.

Y/N dreamed of seeing him smile more often, if not always. But his lips remained frozen in a flat, imperturbable line most of the time.

The few times the smile appeared, it was sudden, so vivid that you only had to click your eyes at the wrong time to miss it, and each time it was as if Y/N was seeing it for the first time.

A pure marvel.

In order not to scare Morpheus, who tended to act like a wild cat, Y/N tried not to stare too much or show interest. As discreetly as possible, she nevertheless did everything to make him offer her this spectacle.

Most of the time it worked, but Dream also smiled without her needing to do anything, simply because she said or did something he found charming.

“Are you still trying to hear my laugh ?”

"Not at all ! I swore I wouldn't do it again. Why ?"

“You’ve been terribly distracted and affectionate lately, agápi mou.”

"I'm just happy to be with you." She said, resting her head on his shoulder, her arms around him. "You're very distracting, and huggable."

"It is rather you who deserves such adjectives. I have a lot of difficulty concentrating on my task. Your presence in my domain monopolizes all my attention, and I only think of you when you are awake, waiting for your returning or fighting the urge to visit you in the Waking."

"Flatterer."

Her response made him smile again and Y/N felt butterflies in her stomach.

When Morpheus talked about needing to see her, Y/N could understand the feeling. She felt the same way about him, but also about his smile.

She asked the inhabitants of the Dreaming for advice. Lucienne thought poems might help. Abel had time to respond that talking about old stories would give him pleasure, before Cain planted an axe in his head, saying that she could confide secrets to the nightmares master. Mervyn made some rather indecent comments about strawberries and a bed. Matthew simply begged her to keep the Dreaming from raining again.

“It’s adorable that you try to make him smile, but you know him, I know him, if he misunderstands something, it will be a disaster.”

“Why would he take it badly that I wanted to make him smile ?”

"He might think you're mocking him. He's very sensitive, this guy."

"I don't know what he went through before we were together, but I would never make fun of him. I just want him to be happy."

"I know, kid. But does he know that ?"

She should have listened, and remembered once again that Dream was a big, timid cat, unaccustomed to receiving signs of affection. He didn't hate that she surrounded him with love, but he seemed lost that it was so common.

Such an outburst of passion could only be linked to madness, and he knew that Y/N was not in his younger sister's domain. Maybe she wanted to get something in return.

After some time, Y/N then got the exact opposite of what she was looking for. Each of her romantic or generous actions received an almost frightened look from Morpheus, his entire face resembling that of a marble statue, devoid of a smile.

She might have been afraid if she hadn't known he would never hurt her. Following the many mistakes he had made in the past with his lovers, Dream had ended up learning certain things, like keeping calm, and trying to communicate.

The key word being 'trying'.

"Ilie mou, you offer me so much affection, what can I give you in return ? Is your sleep disturbed ? Are you lacking inspiration ? Do you have a particular need ?"

"No. Everything is fine." Y/N replied, not understanding that his questions were full of confusion and fear.

"… I see. Is it honey then ? A little sweetness before having to announce something bitter ?"

"If it's a poem, it's quite strange. I don't have any honey, Morpheus. Would you like some tea ?"

He ended up believing that she wanted to leave him, but without knowing how to tell him, too kind or worried that he would react violently like with the others before her.

The thought crossed his mind that the process was far too cruel for Y/N. It seemed absurd to shower him with love in order to protect his feelings, only to tell him right after that she didn't love him anymore.

But it happened that some beings were thinking with their hearts, not listening to reason, and it was always possible that his beloved had not seen that far.

"I knew it… It's raining."

"Why do you say that like I'm responsible ? He might be saddened by something else, Matthew."

"He would have talked to you about it. Or he would have talked to me about it. He would have talked to someone about it. He loves to complain when it concerns his family or his work. Everyone needs to know that he is the poor wretch who has done nothing wrong and is trying to save the world. But for private matters ? He hides in a corner."

"… But he has no reason to be sad. It's true that he seems worried lately, but everything is fine between us."

It was a conversation as surreal as it was depressing, having to explain to the dreams lord that all the attention he had received for several weeks had no hidden meaning, no tragic end, but only the desire to make him happy and to see him smile, without expecting anything else in return.

That, he could understand. Morpheus loved seeing Y/N smile. It was just the fact that someone might care about him that was new to him. Absurd. Not deserved.

"Besides, agápi mou, I am happy in every moment spent with you. I tell you as soon as you ask me. Why so much fuss about my mouth ?"

“Don’t say that sentence again in that voice, I might faint.”

"So it's a question of aesthetics ? Don't you like my 'sulky goth teenager look' ?"

“I never said such a thing.”

“No, Matthew said so.”

"Hmm. I won't deny that you look beautiful when you smile and that's a plus. But I love you, even when you pout."

“I’m not pouting.”

"Of course not."

“I love you too, Ilie mou.” he said, kissing her.

Y/N’s response was to stare at him with wide eyes. Dream stared back, raising an eyebrow. She raised both, as a challenge, continuing to look at him, before she couldn't suppress her smile.

He rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop his lips from curling. The message was clear, even though they knew they were happy together, it was still nice to see their loved ones' faces lit up like that.

As with many things, it wasn't usual for the Endless, but smiling came naturally in Y/N's presence, so it shouldn't be too difficult to please her. Maybe one day they will even dance.

[pocketjoong]

❥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.”

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Summary: You beg Bucky for ten more minutes in bed with you. Pairing: Bucky x f!reader Word count : 1.5k Warnings: fluff

This was the exact reason he hadn’t wanted a phone. The infernal sound that was coming out of it often made him regret the need for the obnoxious device.

Bucky moaned as he reached over to snatch the offending gadget from its place on the nightstand to silence the alarm before…

“No,” you begged shamelessly, slipping your arm around his bare torso in a feeble attempt to keep him from climbing out of your shared bed. “Staaay.” This time, your plea was laced with tiny kisses pressed repeatedly against his shoulder blade.

Who was Bucky to say no to such a pretty plea? Normally you were enveloped so far in the arms of Morpheus, that his alarm barely roused you from slumber, but today you were surprisingly determined to keep him in your arms.

Naturally, Bucky let you encircle him, hating that he had to be the responsible voice in the bed that morning. “Doll, I have to-”

He was silenced by your soft fingertip across his lips in an effort to hold his objection had the chance to gain any momentum.

“Come on, Buck. Just this once, pleeeeeease?” you pouted and whined. "Ten minutes."

Bucky rolled his eyes in response to your theatrics and sighed dramatically for your benefit. “I have to go take a shower, or I’ll be late to meet Sam.”

Your arms tightened around him, nuzzling into his ear, unable to hide the grin which had spread across your face. He could feel your cheek rise with your smile against the back of his neck and he could tell how determined you were to keep him exactly where he was. Should he just be resigned to his fate?

“Just ten more minutes, Bucky!”

Wistfully he glanced down at the phone in his hands and then to your arm around his waist. Using the tip of his flesh finger, he delicately traced a line from your elbow down to your wrist and lingered on the back of your hand. His touch tickled your skin, making you wriggle closer towards his back. 

Bucky considered his morning routine, all the tasks that he completed before heading out to save the world with Sam. What surprised him was how much he actually looked forward to the time with a man who he had found extremely irritating. That wasn't to say that Sam was any less irritating now, but he would probably miss being called tin man and cyborg if he stopped hearing them. Not to mention that his mother had taught him the importance of being punctual to meetings, professional or social alike.

His thoughts of Sam were pushed aside as your lips continued their gentle assault on the back of his neck, your sweet voice pleading with him and bribing him with your affections. He made an attempt to rise, but you moved your hand up over his chest, splaying your fingers across his sternum and pressing yourself against his back so that he pulled you up along with him as he sat up in bed.

You continued to litter kisses down his spine, pressing your lips along the bony staircase on his back. An involuntary sigh escaped Bucky’s mouth, reveling in the feeling of your soft plump lips on his skin. Then, to your immense surprise, he gave in to your entreaties.

"Just ten minutes, okay?"

You nodded, your chin tapping his shoulder with each oscillation. He didn't want to spend the next ten minutes checking how long he had, so he delegated the task to the dreaded device which kept him from his best girl. 

10:00

He entered the time on his phone, putting it down as the clock started counting down.

09:59

09:58

09:57

09:56

Bucky lay back down, not daring to entertain sleep, but there was no reason he couldn't be comfortable. He fluffed his pillow before settling back into it, smiling as he felt the weight of your head in his chest. 

Happily, you settled into your favorite place, your spot, snuggled under Bucky's arm. No matter your surroundings, you always felt at home squashed between his arm and chest. Bucky always thought that you were the perfect shape, molded, created just for him. 

He marveled at how your face fit into the hollow of his neck, smiling at the way you ghosted your lips against his Adam's apple, how your abdomen pressed against his side, how you let him curl his vibranium arm around your back and hold you as close as he could. He delighted in the sensation of your thigh on his as you draped your leg over his, then under in a tangled mess until he couldn’t tell where one of you began or the other ended. Not that he wanted to, he was happiest when you were together, unified.

Bucky looked down as you heaved a contented sigh, a rush of warm air blew across his chest. He brushed a few stray strands from your face, fingertips grazing your temple. He waited with bated breath for your reaction, relaxing as you snuggled closer under his touch, urging him to comb his strong fingers through your tresses.

Gods, you were beautiful.

Bucky already knew that, but sometimes it washed over him, bowling him over like a powerful wave. He remembered the first time he had caught a glimpse of your beautiful smile, your luscious locks framing your face with utmost perfection. You were wearing a floral jumpsuit, an item of clothing you'd had to explain to him. Your eyes had sparkled with mirth as you'd regaled him with details of newfangled fashion notions. He saw the passion behind your eyes as they shone with the brightness of a thousand suns. He knew he'd be able to spend hours listening to you talk and laugh about shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. 

It made him smile, picturing the first day of his new life, a life with you where he was begged for an extra ten minutes of his time. You couldn't make it any easier for him, to appreciate everything you offered him. What was ten minutes in return.

Bucky pressed his nose onto the top of your head, getting a whiff of the citrus shampoo you always used, fresh from washing your hair the previous evening. He loved how you would send him off on his missions with a few drops of your favorite perfume on one of his handkerchiefs. It amused you that he kept them, but was glad that you could send him off with something that reminded him of you.

He didn't think it was possible but you wiggled in even closer, your arm pulling on his other side. Carefully, Bucky reached over to cover your bare shoulder with the duvet. Despite the chill in the room, it was you, always you that offered warmth to the depths of his soul.

He noticed how your breath had started evening out, slower, deeper. He could feel your heart beating against his chest, its strong steady rhythm grounded him, kept him from losing himself to the wildness of his wintery thoughts. He felt calm, the morning bird’s chirpy melody seemed to have faded into the distance, your warmth enveloped his being, how…

This reverie was cut short by his alarm going off again.

Devastation could be the only apt way to describe how Bucky felt in that moment. This proved the point he had known about phones.  But what broke his heart the most was the whimper that left your lips as he reached out to stop the antagonizing sound. He knew how much worse your reaction would be when he tried to get out of bed.

Bucky knew that as soon as he left the warmth of your shared bed, you would huddle deeper into it, wrap your arm around his pillow, a poor substitute for his majestic form. He knew what his day had in store for him, the violence he saw, the fear, the depravity of humankind. Every morning he would crave those extra ten minutes before facing the madness the world had to offer. Ten minutes with you in the Elysian Fields would never really be quite enough.

He couldn't quite put his finger on what was different today. It was an ordinary Tuesday morning. He had done the same for the last few days. There was no reason today should be any different. But it was different. Today's start would have to wait.

“Ten more minutes.”

This time, the words were Bucky's. He held you as though his life depended on it. And in a way it did. He was nothing without you. 

Naturally, you did not object, instead, you tangled yourself back around him even tighter than you had before. Feeling elated by his change of heart, Bucky proceeded to pepper your face and forehead with a storm of sweet kisses, even letting his eyelids flutter shut when you slid hands up his back to bring yourself nearer.

Sam could wait. Ten more minutes with you would be well worth it.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: B for Breeding

Summary: You, Swan Maiden of the Lake become King Morpheus's favorite concubine, but it's not enough.

Notes: ~1.7k words, this is just straight-up depressing. Also, don't have a child because you think it would be unconditional love.

Warnings: MDNI - 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it seriously), p in v, minor fingering, unrequited love, toxic love (from both parties honestly), manipulative love, slight AU? I don't really know, angst no comfort

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

A for Aphrodisiac ⇆ C for Cockwarming

The grandfather clock strikes 12 when the door to your bedroom opens. He comes, always, on the last strike of midnight. His footsteps are quiet when he enters your space but just loud enough for you to hear him. You sit slowly from your lying position on your large bed. You’re decorated head to toe in silk and lace, just how he likes it. 

The Dream King has one queen that he is devoted to only in marriage. In his spare time, he has six concubines to satisfy his needs whenever he needs them, wherever he needs them. Politics was never a subject you understood much, but you understood enough as to why your parents all but gave you to him when he first saw you. He thought that there was no other creature as beautiful as you. 

The first time he saw you, you were a swan swimming languidly in a pond far off in the Dreaming. When you come to the surface, soft white feathers retract, your neck shortens, and your legs lengthen until you stand naked in your human form. You didn’t even notice the Dream King staring at you as you brushed your wet hair with your fingers and admired your reflection on the pond’s surface. 

From that day forth you were nothing but a concubine in Morpheus’ harem. He showered you in gifts, courted you, and wooed you all in an effort to decrease the sting of missing home. You never came in contact with the other five concubines, unknown to you that they kept their distance on purpose. Their disdain for you comes from spite as jealousy wraps its hands around them like a parasite. You were his majesty’s favorite and each moment he spent with you means less time with them instead. The Queen never visited you either, neither did she the other concubines, insisting she was simply better than common whores. She could produce an heir to the throne, you could not. 

Life in the palace gets lonely, so you learn to latch onto Lord Morpheus quickly. If you performed well then perhaps he will stay the night. Talk to you until your eyes are closed or take you out for more than 10 minutes to walk to the palace gardens. You put on a smile when he comes near you, kneeling by the bed so you two are the same height. 

“My sweetness,” He calls to you and caresses your cheek.

You lean into the touch, starved for attention as you have been stuck in your room for the past few days, alone. He chuckles at your reaction as he retracts, your face chasing him but stops quickly. He keeps his eyes on you when he strips himself of his robes, the fabric creasing against itself as it slumps onto the cold floor. His cold hand comes into contact with your shoulder, wasting no time, as he guides you to lie down under him. 

“Forgive me for neglecting you, my dear,” He murmurs against your soft skin, followed by a bruising kiss to the junction of your neck. You only respond with a whimper, your fists clenching at the satin sheets below you. The love bruises he gave you a few days ago still haven’t healed and new ones always appeared. Your once pure skin is now always stained with his love. 

Your legs rub against each other as you try to satiate the gnawing arousal that is growing in your core. You kept your eyes on him when his fingers traced lightly over your clothed breast. The pleasure of it is just as good as the time before. Good enough to close your eyes and feel it all, but he doesn’t like it when you close your eyes, you remind yourself. 

His hands bring the bottom of your camisole over your hip and the night air hits your legs. He hikes it higher and removes it over your head and throws it on the floor near his clothes. Shivers run down your spine, goosebumps prickling at your thighs and hardening your breasts. Your hands go to his upper arm and squeeze at the muscle underneath. His knee prys your legs apart and pushes onto your cunt, which elicits another whine from you and you grind yourself onto him. 

“Patience, dear,” He whispers, his lips leave your neck, and trail slow kisses down to close his mouth over your tit. 

His hand wanders closer to your core, tickling the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before pressing his palm into your clit. He looks at you again when he does it and a smug smile grows on his face seeing the way your face contorts to his feverish touch. Your hands trail upwards and trace his jawline, admiring his face lovingly. 

His eyes grow darker as his lust continues to grow and you swallow down your fear. You lean your face closer to his, his soft lips within your reach. Lord Morpheus ducks away instead and focuses his attention on giving you more love bites, not bothering to soothe the pain after he clamps his teeth on your skin. You swallow again, willing the loneliness of his actions to the bottom of your stomach, to will it never to show its ugly face again. 

Instead, you run your fingers through his unruly hair as his hands now take your underwear off. He throws it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. This time, when his fingers return, they tease your aroused entrance. The wetness of you aiding him as his fingers enter, your needy cunt sucking the finger in. 

Your breath grows rapid and heavy as his fingers move deliberately, its sole purpose to get you opened and ready for him. He guides your legs and rests one over his hip and presses himself into your core, his arousal slipping across your slit. 

He presses his lips to your collarbone before fully sheathing himself into you, grinning as he feels the way your body trembles underneath him. He doesn’t find the patience to wait and removes his cock and fills you again. Your head is thrown back by the familiar pleasure and you clamp your mouth shut, embarrassed to make noise at such a late hour. 

“No, my treasure,” Morpheus voices with displeasure on the tip of his tongue. “I want you to scream my name. I want everyone in the palace to know who the King’s favorite concubine is. Can you do that for me?”

You nod quickly as another forceful thrust enters you. 

“With words,” He commands, leering down at your flushed body. Your hair was starting to get tangled amongst itself and your lips dry from heavy breath.

“Yes, my King,” You weep out, thoughts preoccupied with what he was giving you and your nails run down his back, leaving red streaks of pleasure across his pale skin. 

The Dream King hums in satisfaction before he turns his attention to your skin again, trying to find unmarked spots to mark you again. Your pleasure becomes overwhelming and almost on the verge of pain. His next stroke hits the deepest part of you and you can’t help the scream that is ripped from your throat. Your cries of ecstasy echoed in the large room and slipped through the hallways of the castle. 

“Mhm, just like that,” He praises and you turn into jelly under his words. He murmurs his worship about your skin, your hair, how beautifully glowing you looked underneath him, skin dewy, and muscles trembling. 

His hand caresses between your two bodies, pressing down on your lower stomach. The action causes your sensual pleasure to increase tenfold and your skin feels feverish. He rubs a small circle just under your stomach and hums above you again. 

“I want to see you round with my child, to see you glow with the effects of pregnancy,” He voices and in the back of your head you’re shaking your head no. 

You knew the consequences of siring a bastard. You may be the King’s favorite but that would not protect you against the wrath of her majesty, the Queen. Yet, another part of you silences the doubt quickly. Your child would be something of both you and the king’s. With a tear sliding down your cheek you wished for your child to love you in a way that Lord Morpheus never would. To give you the attention you deserved, to give you something to love. 

Your body spasms and your cunt clenches as your orgasm comes to you unexpectedly, another wonton cry leaves your lips. Morpheus groans at the sudden tightness before emptying himself into you. The only sound that fills the room is the panting of your heavy breaths. Your arms hang behind his neck again and you look at him with adoration. 

“My king,” You whisper like a prayer to him. “Will you keep true to your wish?”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “Do not think too deeply about it, my treasure.” His pet names for you feel empty to you now. 

Your arms drop from his neck at the abrupt change in attitude. You suddenly feel very self-aware of your vulnerable body and cross your arms over your chest to both cover and ground yourself. 

Morpheus removes his body from yours and the cold night air takes his place instead. Your thighs are sore and sticky from your coupling but all it does is make you feel dirty. 

“Your child would be of no use to me, it was only said in the moment.” He picks up his clothes from the floor, leaving yours untouched. 

He leaves you just as he came to you, quietly and without warning. The soft click of the closing door brings you back to the presence. His words hang heavy in the air and swim around your head just like the little tetra that used to swim around your body in the lake. 

Your hand delicately swipes across your lower stomach and you clench your thighs closed. If you hope to become with child this time around, then you wouldn’t need Morpheus. Silent tears run down your cheeks and you hug yourself. 

He wouldn’t spend the night again, leaving you in an empty bed of your combined lovemaking. The satin sheets under you suddenly feel too rough, the air too cold, and the shadows in the room dance as they point and mock at you. 

As if the king could love you back. 

A for Aphrodisiac || C for Cockwarming

Main Masterlist ⇆ Series Masterlist

Is it unhinged of me to say that that gif of Dream crying is hot? No? What's that? I'm just ovulating? Oh, ok.

♡ Yours, Layla

[call-sign-shark]

✨Angel in Disguise ✨

Part 2 : Angel in Distress || Part 3: Angel In Panic

Summary: Studying hard for the Uranium Mission, you fall asleep in the meeting room. Hangman takes care of you...  Bonus: Bob's cameo.

Words: 1K

Tags: None, this is fluff.

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Jake had never been a heavy sleeper. The slightest noise usually made him jumped off his bed and look around him in panic. From his childhood to the man he is today, his sleep has always been plagued by nightmares. That is why he never wanted to spend the night with you after you had sex. He would put his clothes back on, wink at you with that specific cocky flat-lipped grin and leave before you could ask him if he wanted to stay. Somehow, you grew used to it, even though it still hurt you. When you start fucking together, you both made it clear that it was just for fun. Because of your job, neither of you  allowed yourself to have a stable and serious relationship. But a part of you could not help but hope it was not just for the sex. At least, you could be friend? But you highly doubted that, for even during the day Jake behaved with you as he would behave with anyone: typical arrogant Hangman demeanor.

Tonight was one of those sleepless nights when Morpheus' arms could not reach him for his sweet embrace. Rather than turning around again and again in his bed, Jake decided to wander aimlessly in the military base. His plan was to grab something hot to drink, a coffee or a tea,  and to go for a night walk in order to keep both his mind and time busy. That was what he was doing when he noticed light coming from under the door of the meeting room. He furrowed his blond brows, perplexed. Was someone in there? He listened carefully, on the lookout for the smallest sound he could hear. After a few minutes of complete and peaceful silence, Jake came to the conclusion that someone had just forgotten to switch the lights off. Well, he had nothing else to do so he entered the room and reached for the switch. He was about to switch the lights off when he noticed a motionless silhouette, sitting further away in the room. Recognizing the overall, he understood it was certainly one of his crewmates. Judging by their peaceful and slow breathing, they were probably asleep. He wondered who it could be though. 

Jake walked towards the unidentifiable dagger to see who had fallen asleep here. How surprised he was when he recognized your adorable face. Your left cheek was pressed against your crossed arms, which were resting on the table. All around you were scattered the F-14 manual, the plan of the missions, and many other papers on which was written each maneuver and how to do them. You knew this information by heart, but your anxiety forced you to re-read them again and again.

The tall blonde man gently shook his head - he had not even noticed how anxious you were. The truth was you were so used to hiding your emotions that no one could read what you were hiding behind your smile. A twinge of sadness and remorse pinched his heart at the thought he had not been there for you. He should have reassured you, he should have helped you, but he did not. Jake started to wonder how many times he had missed the moments you were hurting, and it made him feel terribly guilty.. He who had been busy avoiding you during the day by fear of not being able to control the fucking feelings he started to have for you.

He ran his large and calloused hand through your hair with a surprising tenderness. As he did, he observed your attractive face, relaxed by your sleepy mind. You were breathtakingly beautiful... A faint and soft smile stretched the corners of his mouth at such a beautiful sight. His fingers gently brushed your seductive lips he was always craving. 

Jake decided he could not let you sleep in that uncomfortable position. Noticing the faint goosebumps on your arms, he first took his flight jacket off and put it on your shoulders to keep you warm. It was a dark brown leather jacket with fake lighter brown fur inside. Several patches had been sewn from here to there on the leather. Instinctively, you snuggled in his jacket, lulled by the warmth and the delicate masculine perfume you knew far too well. Your shoulders relaxed, as if your whole body assimilated Jake with safety, which was the case to be true. 

"Hey sleepy head, I'm going to bring you to your bed." 

You perceived his voice but did not quite understand what he said, for you were still dozing. All you could do was mumbling some inintelligible words. Jake could not help but snort with amusement. You were so damn cute .. He carefully carried you, bride-style, in his muscular arms. Instinctively again, you snuggled against his warm chest. He walked out of the meeting room, managing to switch the lights off with his elbows. 

He walked through the corridors, with you sleeping in his arms. Yet, he felt you moving and grunting slightly because your mind noticed that your body was being moved in another location.

"Alright, alright, alright... My bedroom is nearer." He whispered, even though he was not sure you were listening to him.

After a few minutes, he got to his room's door. Jake stopped in front of it and lowered his gaze towards your sleepy face to check on you. Fortunately enough he had not disrupted your sleep. You really needed some rest after all the anxiety you experienced lately. Once again, he smiled as he looked at your sleepy pout and realized how much you meant to him. Maybe he should consider talking to you about your relationship... Maybe you could be more than fuck buddies? Jake 's face leaned over yours, and he gently pressed his lips against yours to give you an adorable peck. His face backed off and he smirks - he had missed your lips. 

A sudden unpleasant thrill ran down his spine. He was feeling watched. Jake clenched his jaws and looked around him...

Only to find Bob, standing in the corridor. 

"The fuck you're doing here?"

"I got up to snack on something." Bob answered, his hand on the doorknob as he had frozen in this position when he saw Hangman kissing you.

"... Don't tell anyone." 

"Hm." Bob shrugged, letting him struggle with a vague answer.

After all, he had always known there was something between Hangman and you.

[7-wonders]

what if jessamy lived and matthew was brought in by lucienne as extra help and matthew gets a little crush on jessamy and you notice how matthew seems to be strutting around a lot, his feathers are shiny and he always puffs out his little birdy chest when ever jessamy calls him handsome and theres something that seems familiar but you can't quite place it

until you call morpheus gorgeous when you see him in a new outfit and he somehow seems a little taller, his hair is extra fluffy and he has whatever the dream lords equivalent of a spring in his step is

When Morpheus finally freed himself from his captivity, Lucienne had been faced with a decision to make. Her Lord was determined to find his missing tools immediately, never mind the fact that he was still weak and without any sort of help. While she couldn't do anything about the first part, she could certainly assist with the second. Though Morpheus didn't approve (he was still traumatized by the death of Jessamy, but he would never admit it to anybody, least of all himself), he begrudgingly allowed this new raven, Matthew, to travel with him to Hell.

Imagine their surprise when Lucifer revealed they had taken Jessamy's soul for their own in the hopes that they could use it as a bargaining chip with the Lord of Dreams. This was unacceptable, and so a wager had been made. If Morpheus won The Oldest Game, he got his helm...and Jessamy. If Morpheus lost, then the demon Choronzon got...him.

Thankfully, the former had been the outcome, and Morpheus left Hell with his helm and one more raven than he entered with. But to say there had been some growing pains as the two Ravens of the Dreaming adjusted to both being the Ravens of the Dreaming would be a gross understatement.

That was then though, and this is now. By the time you came into the picture, there were hardly any signs at all that there had been animosity between Matthew and Jessamy. They worked together in harmony now, the perfect team. One could even call them friends...even if Matthew maybe had feelings that were a little more than friendly.

You're in the library with your two feathered friends when Jessamy's head perks up, an obvious sign that Morpheus is summoning her via the mental link he has with his ravens.

"That's me, then." She sighs as though it's a chore to have to go attend to Morpheus, but you know how much she enjoys it. How much she enjoys every moment of her second (third, really) chance at life.

"Official raven business?" you ask.

"The most official." She stands and shakes her feathers out, but stops before taking flight. "Matthew?"

He looks at her in surprise. "Yeah?"

"Your feathers look nice today."

"Oh! I—uh, I flew through a waterfall this morning because I wanted to try something new. Wasn't sure if it would work out."

"It certainly did."

Matthew tries to stutter out an answer. You can hear Jessamy laugh as she swoops off to catch up to Morpheus. If Matthew could blush, you're sure he would be.

He's still staring after her minutes after she's gone, and you can't help your amused smile. "You okay?"

"Absolutely." He nods, his chest puffed out in pride. You stifle a laugh and replace it with a hum, pulling your book up past your face so he can't see just how well you believe him.

These instances, of Jessamy playfully flirting with a head over heels Matthew, are not rare. She enjoys doing it, and who knows? Maybe she feels the same. Their routine is rather sweet, actually, but you can't help the weird sense of deja vu you get when you watch those two dance around each other. You've seen this act before, but where?

The next time you and Jessamy are together, you're both in a position that you did not ever think you'd find yourself in: watching Dream of the Endless play fashion show.

Normally, Morpheus just conjures up whatever look that he wants without a second thought. He can change his appearance at a whim, even though he prefers sticking to his familiar, all-black wardrobe. But this week, he's hosting his siblings. All of them, save his wayward brother, are to be in the Dreaming at the same time for the first time in centuries (Morpheus can't say for certain how long it's been, which is how you know it's been a long time). A "conclave of the Endless," he called it.

Weird way to say you're having a family dinner, but whatever.

Though he'll never admit it, he's nervous. Nervous about his siblings being in his realm, nervous about how the Dreaming looks after having spent so long returning it to its former glory prior to his imprisonment, nervous about proving himself and his power once more. This dinner matters to him, and since you can't be there to support him—he refuses to possibly put you in harm's way and/or at the mercy of cunning and powerful beings who enjoy making mortals their playthings, which you appreciate immensely—he's trying desperately to control the few things that he can, including his outfit choice for the evening.

And there have been a lot of potential choices. Seriously, he's tried on so many outfits that you're starting to lose count. Coats and cloaks, robes and rubies, boots and blacks. It's a dizzying blur by now, and Morpheus looks as done as you feel. He's nothing if not relentless though, so the rigamarole shall continue.

He turns to face you when he's settled on a new choice, and you both look at his outfit with the discerning eye of a critic appraising a work of art. After a few moments, Jessamy, sitting on the back of your chair, is the one to speak up first.

"The collar does not suit you, my Lord."

His gaze goes to you, and the helplessness in his eyes almost makes you say that Jessamy's wrong and you like the look. You'd be lying, though, and you like to think that a core tenet of your relationship is honesty. With that in mind, you grimace and shake your head.

"She's right," you begrudgingly agree.

Huffing is an action that's below Morpheus. It's a very mortal thing to do, so naturally the Ruler of the Nightmare Realms does not huff. If he were to pretend to huff, though, the way that he abruptly turns back around and sighs heavily through his nose would be a very good impression. Your lips twitch when you glance at Jessamy out of the corner of your eye only to see her pulling the exact same move towards you, but you stay silent and go back to the watching and waiting game.

About three outfit changes later, something clicks, and you sit up in your chair in excitement. "Ooh, that's it!"

"You're right," Jessamy echoes your earlier words, only this time in a far more positive connotation.

Morpheus raises an elegant brow. "Elaborate, please."

"That's your outfit for tomorrow," you insist. "You're gorgeous, my love."

He stops fussing with his outfit and looks at you through the mirror. "You truly think so?"

"You look so handsome in that outfit. I mean, you're handsome all the time, but c'mon!" You grin, because how can you not? He's one of the most attractive men (-shaped beings, if one were to be picky) you've ever met in your life, and he's yours.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, as though attempting to detect any deceit from you, before inspecting his appearance one final time. With a nod and a very small, very self-satisfied smile, he says, "Then I shall wear this tomorrow."

"Perfect." Next to you, Jessamy sighs in relief, and you shoot her a furtive thumbs-up for a job well done.

Since your part in ensuring Morpheus has a successful dinner is complete, you leave the Dreaming hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. What this means is that you're expecting to fall asleep the day after the dinner is scheduled and walk into the worst hurricane that would ever be recorded were it in the Waking. Morpheus likes to act like he has no emotions, but the reality is quite the opposite. In fact, he has so many emotions, and they're all so strong. He just doesn't know how to deal with them, and chooses instead to hide them away until they burst.

Instead of the anticipated disaster zone, everything is...calm. Actually, it's a beautiful day. Think of the nicest spring day, and multiply it by at least 10 (maybe more). That's what this weather is. The sun is out and shining, the temperature is warm but not hot, and everything is in full bloom. Hell, there are actual flower petals dancing through the air right now. Flower petals!

You snag one of the petals and hold it gently between your thumb and forefinger, feeling the silkiness against your skin. "What kind of Disney movie am I in?" you mutter.

You feel Morpheus's presence behind you a mere moment before he asks, "What was that?"

Even with the environmental warning, he still makes you jump, and you turn around to face him. "Hi! How did it go?"

"Far better than I could have expected."

There's something...different about him. His hair looks especially messy and windswept (not that you're complaining, you love that), he's still wearing his special dinner outfit, and did he get taller? You feel like you have to look up just a little bit more to truly look at him so yeah, he definitely got taller.

"Good. I knew it would, though."

"You did?" he asks curiously.

"Of course. I had complete faith in you."

Those starry eyes of his twinkle brightly as he smirks at you, and the realization hits you like a truck. Now you know why Matthew's mannerisms have been so familiar! Because you've seen them before, and you're seeing them now. Morpheus thrives off of your compliments. How...interesting, and a theory that you need to test out immediately.

"I'm really proud of you, y'know." His lips turn upwards into something that's almost a smile, so you continue. "I know how hard this was for you, how much you worried, and you handled it beautifully."

The beautiful flowers surrounding you burst into the air, their petals falling down around you in the multitudes. You start to laugh, but Morpheus doesn't let you make another sound, instead ducking down (from his markedly taller height, mind you) to kiss you. Though you're caught off-guard, you quickly get with the program and return his affections.

"I would like to celebrate with you." He says before moving his lips to your ear, even though nobody around can hear him whisper, "In my chambers."

You pretend to think for a moment, because a moment's all you can spare. "I'm certainly not opposed to such plans."

He pulls you to him in a way that suggests you didn't really get a choice otherwise and grabs his sand from his robes. You press your lips together to hide your smile and happily hold onto him. Oh, you are so using this to your advantage from now on.

[cuubism]

inspired by this Hope!Hob piece by @mashumaru, have a little reverse-verse fic, Hob as Hope of the Endless and human Morpheus

(reverse-verse Hope and Morpheus are my special special little guys, I wrote an extremely long fic about them before. I think about them all the time and at this point they're basically distinct from Dreamling in my mind 😂)

cw hate speech, homophobia, slurs, violence. it's pretty brief though.

--

At this point, Morpheus is no longer shocked to come home and find Hope sat at his kitchen table, knuckles and brow bone bloody, drinking tea as if none of that matters. It still rankles him, though. Bloody. Injured. Always.

Morpheus sets down his messenger bag in the hall with a thump and bypasses Hope entirely to go right for the first aid kit on the top shelf in the bathroom. Hope turns to watch him pass, a forlorn little look on his face. No, Morpheus tells himself, he does not get some sweet little welcome home kiss if he’s going to come back like that.

“Must you insist,” he says, as he drags the kit—packed full, always—off the bathroom shelf and trudges back into the kitchen, “on always starting fights?”

Hope pushes his half-drunk tea away, pouting. “I don’t start them!”

Morpheus sits in the chair next to him and just looks at him.

“…Okay,” Hope concedes. His lip and brow line are bruised. There’s dried blood under his nose. Morpheus wishes this wasn’t his natural state. “Sometimes I throw the first punch.”

Morpheus sighs, tearing open an alcohol swab and starting to wipe at the cut on his brow.

“…Most of the time,” Hope admits.

“Hope,” Morpheus says, exasperated, and Hope cringes.

“You know I can’t really be hurt,” he tries to explain. “I’m not human. Besides. You think I’m just beating the crap out of people for no reason?”

“No,” says Morpheus, and wipes at his split lip with perhaps more force than necessary. “I do not.”

“Besides, I don’t kill people and I don’t like when people do it around me either. It’s not about fighting, I don’t enjoy fighting. It’s about taking a stand.”

“You do enjoy fighting,” Morpheus accuses. “I have seen you.”

Hope ducks his head. “It’s not about that, though,” he insists. “Listen. You know I never really finish these things, but it’s my role to start it. To show that these battles can be fought. And that it’s worth standing up.”

“Bar fights, such a noble cause,” says Morpheus dryly, and Hope tucks his forehead into his shoulder. Morpheus can’t help himself, his hand automatically goes to the nape of Hope’s neck, fingers combing through his hair.

“You attract violence to you,” he says quietly. “I have seen it.”

Hope sighs. “Did you really think that people would like Hope? Sometimes they want to give me a hug but more often they just want to punch me in the face.”

“I thought you were meant to inspire,” Morpheus says, and it’s a little bit mocking of things Hope himself has declared in the past but Morpheus is listening.

“More like get in the way,” says Hope, his face still pressed to Morpheus’s shoulder. He sounds despondent now. Morpheus supposes people instigating fights with you simply because of your nature wouldn’t be pleasant. At least when people instigate fights with Morpheus, he’s usually done something to deserve it.

“You are not ‘in the way,’” he says. “If you are, then you are meant to be there. Like when you stepped into my path.”

“‘Least you didn’t punch me,” Hope mumbles.

“I considered it.”

Hope huffs. He pushes himself upright again, shaking his messy hair out of his eyes. He is so beautiful, even still speckled with blood and grime from the fight. Especially like that, if Morpheus is being honest with himself.

“So long as you never hated me,” Hope says. His voice is fragile now, and it hurts Morpheus’s heart. Hope is like a radiant sunbeam, and still more often than not people are only trying to throw shadows over him.

“I could never hate you,” he says, and Hope’s expression softens. Morpheus kisses him lightly on the lips. “I do not think they hate you either. You are… challenging. Just being around you… it is a confrontation in its own way. Especially for those who may have pushed you aside.”

“Even for you?” Hope says.

“Especially for me,” Morpheus tells him. He leans his cheek against Hope’s, overcome with fondness. Fondness that is greater for how frustrating Hope has been to him over the years, during those times of darkness. “It is how you saved me.”

“You saved you,” Hope says firmly. “But if I helped, then I’m glad.”

“Always.” Morpheus kisses the hinge of his jaw. “What would I do without you?”

“Now you’re just coming on to me.”

Morpheus hums, not disagreeing.

“Admit it,” Hope says, tangling fingers in Morpheus’s hair. “You’re into it. When I come home all bloody.”

“Mm. I am not.”

“Oh, you are. I can tell.”

Morpheus skates a hand up along his thigh. “Hm. Perhaps it makes you seem very fierce.” He kisses Hope’s mouth this time, swipes his tongue soothingly over his split lip, tasting just the tantalizing hint of blood. Leans in and—

“Ow!”

Morpheus pulls back, raising an eyebrow. Hope looks sheepish, pressing his hand to his nose, which Morpheus had bumped. Hope’s non-human body will heal quickly, but for now his nose remains at least partially broken.

Morpheus keeps giving him an unimpressed look. “I see you are gravely wounded.” Hope catches him by the hair before he can truly pull away, and he smiles. “I suppose… I will have to ply my mouth elsewhere. If you promise to be more careful.”

“For such a reward I’d promise anything,” Hope swears, and Morpheus obligingly sinks down, hands on Hope’s thighs. It is hardly a hardship.

“You do like this,” Hope swears. “Don’t try to pretend. You’re so transparent.”

“Perhaps you once punched a man in the face on my behalf, and perhaps I found it titillating,” Morpheus says, and Hope laughs. “Is it terrible if I wanted you to break his nose? Perhaps I am terrible. You do look appealing with blood on your hands. If it is not your own.”

Even Hope’s own torn, bruised knuckles do stir something in Morpheus, a fierce pride and terrible heat. But he worries for him also.

“Liar,” Hope crows, gleeful, “hypocrite. Terrible lecturer. You love it. You know you do.”

“Do not get yourself horribly maimed in a bar fight,” Morpheus orders. “However…” he takes one of Hope’s hands, kisses his knuckles, lets his lips linger there for a moment. “If you must be righteous and full of passion, then I will soothe your injuries later, oh knight of promise.”

“Terrible incentive, now I’m going to get worse,” Hope says. He caresses Morpheus’s cheek, thumbs at the corner of his mouth. His look on Morpheus is so fond, always. Then he says, “Alright, darling, for you, I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you.” Morpheus leans his face against Hope’s thigh, lets Hope play with his hair. In a moment he will indeed ply his mouth upon Hope’s body as promised, in a moment he will indulge the spark that Hope’s fierceness lights within him. But for this moment, he just stays close to him, a gentle valley in the topography of Hope’s violence. Morpheus has never been gentle for anyone before. He finds he likes it.

Hope leans down, smiling, and kisses the top of his head.

~

Morpheus does not like to be “out and about.” In fact, he generally detests it. But Hope likes to be out among people and Morpheus likes to be with Hope, so sometimes he goes. Besides, he likes to see Hope happy.

The White Horse is a safe space for them, anyway. Morpheus does not feel so uncomfortable there as he does at other crowded, loud establishments. He sits in his usual corner seat at the bar, nursing a drink and working on his writing, leaning lightly against Hope’s shoulder as Hope chats with whomever has come up to him now. He tends to attract people wherever he goes. Fortunately, no one has tried to start a fight, this time.

Hope leans in close to his ear. “Get some air with me?”

Morpheus smirks. Inevitably, getting some air will turn into Hope pushing him up against a wall and kissing him senseless. He is hardly opposed to that series of events.

Cold air washes over him as Hope leads him out to the back garden, around the corner to a private spot in the alley by the inn. It makes his hands feel even warmer as he takes Morpheus by the hips, leans him up against the wall as expected, thumbs stroking over his hip bones under his shirt. Morpheus smiles to himself.

“Did you get bored?” he teases.

Hope kisses his cheek, then his jaw, leans in close to his ear. “Hardly. You know my mind is always on you no matter what. But you were being so patient.” He tugs on Morpheus’s ear, then goes to his throat, kissing along his pulse. “How could I not reward my darling?”

“Knowing that I am the one you will go home with is its own reward,” Morpheus murmurs. He trails a hand up Hope’s back, pulls him close so their bellies are pressed together. “So many of those people in there want you. I see it. But they do not know that you are already taken.” It makes him feel privileged. And hungry.

Hope laughs. “Possessive little bastard.”

“Yes.” Hope is so radiant. To be the one chosen by him… it makes Morpheus’s soul sing. “You are mine. I am yours.”

“Yours,” Hope agrees. With that he moves to Morpheus’s lips and kisses him deep. Morpheus hums in pleasure, opens his mouth to him. Tastes the beer lingering on his tongue. Sinks into the press of Hope’s fingers on his hips, and—

“In public? Disgusting.”

Hope pulls away from him, and Morpheus grumbles in displeasure. Hope turns to the mouth of the alley, where a strange man is standing, expression of, indeed, disgust on his face.

When they don’t respond, the man steps closer until he's almost in their space. Hope’s jaw clenches but, perhaps remembering how Morpheus had chastised him for always getting into fights, he doesn’t yet react.

“Can we help you?” Morpheus asks. Not politely.

“By taking that somewhere else,” says the strange man. His tone is aggressive. And most of his attention seems to be on Hope, rather than Morpheus, which Morpheus doesn’t like. Morpheus has noticed before that Hope’s presence inspires ire to jump to action as often as it inspires positivity and good works. But this is the first time he has seen such outright aggression.

Maybe some people really do hate Hope.

“Mind your own business,” says Hope, stiffly.

“You fags shouldn’t be allowed out in public, it’s an insult to respectable people.” He’s still primarily looking at Hope, and it's hard to say if it's because he is the one who looks more traditionally masculine between the two of them, or if it is because of the inherent draw of Hope as an Endless. “Should fuck a real woman instead of that.”

Hope takes a quick step forward at the man’s words, expression hard.

“Hope—” Morpheus starts. Do not get yourself hurt again, he means to say. As much as I enjoy you defending our honor I also like you well. For Hope may have supernatural qualities that prevent him from dying but he is not invulnerable. His powers lie in his empathy, his charisma. Emotion and community. But he takes a punch like any other man. Comes home to Morpheus with a black eye like anyone else would.

Hope stops sharply as if caught on a leash. And Morpheus immediately regrets speaking, for the other man crows in victory.

“What are you, his little bitch? You a man or not?”

Hope flinches despite himself. Not, Morpheus thinks, because he cares so much about a stranger’s sense of masculinity, but because he prides himself on being able to handle himself. On being able to defend his lover. On being able to stand on his own feet after being broken down into shards by his imprisonment.

Morpheus often feels anger, is too quick to it even, but he does not often act on it with violence. It is not so much that he disapproves of violence as that he dislikes the attention associated with causing a scene, and, being rather slight, is usually at a disadvantage in any physical confrontation besides. Cutting words are his weapons instead.

But watching Hope shrink back, the hurt that flashes over him—a terrible spark jumps inside Morpheus. Hope is stronger, is better, than any person he knows. Has been through hell and come out of it still with more empathy than Morpheus has ever possessed in his life. Morpheus will not watch him made small.

He steps forward and punches the man square in the nose.

He hears a crunch. He’s not sure if it’s the nose, or his own knuckles. The man wheels back with a shriek, clutching his bleeding nose, and Morpheus stumbles back, too, shaking out his hand.

Hope has his hands over his mouth in shock, eyes wide. “Holy shit.” When he drops his hands, he’s grinning. “Holy shit.”

Holy shit indeed. Morpheus watches the man scamper off down the alley, casting one last dark look back at them. His hand hurts, he might have broken it—but the adrenaline pumping through his veins is much louder. He can’t quite believe he did that.

“How’d that feel?” Hope asks. He is a terrible influence sometimes. Always roping Morpheus into doing terrible things, like wanting to live.

A smile tugs at Morpheus’s lips. “It felt… good.”

“Yeah?” He’s still grinning madly. “Let me see your hand.”

Morpheus shows him. Hope prods gently at his knuckles, and winces.

“That’s gonna hurt for a while,” he says. “Your punching technique is terrible.” He kisses Morpheus’s hand anyway.

“Now you understand how I feel when you come home bloodied,” Morpheus says.

Hope’s eyes are sparkling. He does not seem like he’s learned a lesson from that at all. “Oh, I do.” He leans in close, presses his lips to the corner of Morpheus’s mouth. “You were…” his voice is a low hum, “incredible.”

“Do I get a reward?” Morpheus asks dryly, though his breath quickens at Hope’s proximity, the heat in his voice.

“For defending my honor? Anything.” He takes Morpheus’s uninjured hand. He smiles. He’s altogether too excited about Morpheus punching someone. Which only makes Morpheus want to do it again. Terrible influence, Hope. “Come home, and I’ll show you.”

But Morpheus catches him when Hope starts to tug him away. “Here.”

Hope raises an eyebrow at him, but he does look… interested. “Something to prove?”

Morpheus draws him close again, leans back against the wall so Hope is caging him in. “Perhaps I simply want you, and I do not care who knows about it.”

He touches low on Hope’s belly, his hand hidden between their bodies. He is not willing to truly expose them—though they are somewhat sequestered in the alley at the moment—but to play with the idea is… arousing. He wants Hope to touch him. Here, in their place. After Morpheus has hurt someone for him.

He cannot blame Hope for this. Morpheus is just a terrible influence upon himself.

“Menace,” Hope chuckles. “You’ve no high ground left, you know that, right? You’ve obliterated it.”

“I never did,” Morpheus says, as Hope lets him draw him in and kisses along his neck. “Always you have been the better of us.”

“In terms of exhibitionism, maybe,” Hope says. Even now, he won’t let Morpheus truly criticize himself. “I could be persuaded, though.”

With that, he slots their lips together. Sucks on Morpheus’s lower lip as he pushes him harder against the wall, Morpheus’s back scraping the brick. Morpheus groans, pulls him close by his hips so Hope’s swiftly-hardening erection is pressed against his, and Hope’s breath hitches against his mouth.

“Should I give you a proper reward?” Hope murmurs.

“Yes,” Morpheus breathes. “Hope—”

He loves Hope so much. He wants Hope so much.

“Vicious little thing, I love you so,” Hope says. And then, in the darkened alley by their favorite place, with his hands and mouth and the weight of his body and his devotion, he goes about showing Morpheus just how much.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Eros: Chapter Four

Eros: Married to Dream of the Endless, you find yourself sent back in time to Ancient Greece where you, unfortunately, meet Oneiros. Fresh off a divorce and drowning the sorrows of his son’s death by indulging in the Panathenaia, you find yourself trapped beneath the lustful gaze of your future husband. In your defense, he seduced you first…

Warnings: Filth, just, filth. Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: Morpheus x Wife!Reader, Time Travel, Oneiros is used for AncientGreek!Morpheus.

Word Count: ~3.9

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Tenses may be mixed up, I’m working on a project that uses different tense than normal. This is supposed to be past but 🤷‍♀️ my brain is like: worbs

Some of your favorite moments with Morpheus was after you had made love and he would just hold you. You, of course, were always a half conscious blob of jello languidly draped across your husband with such exhaustion that you couldn’t even twitch a pinkie. Overwhelmingly satisfied. He was a very comfortable being to sleep upon as you had long since discovered. So when you cracked your eyes open and discovered yourself to be tucked against the softest of sheepskin and linen, alone, disappointment and sadness filled your body. Morpheus, not once, had ever left you to wake up alone. You stared at the ceiling of wherever you were and silently reminded yourself that Oneiros wasn’t your husband.

Yet.

“Do shut up,” You sighed to the little voice in the back of your head.

“Do you always speak to your being in such manner?” Oneiros’ dulcet voice was almost syrupy, thick and heavy. The type you’d want to lick from his lips. Your fingers sank into the linen beneath you and you sat up, twisting your head to look at the lounging, half dressed endless. Well, he wasn’t even half dressed! He’d wrapped a chiton around his waist but hadn’t bothered to pin it at his shoulders. That left you with a very delicious view of his chest. You swallowed thickly, body shivering and informing you of the sweet aches that now graced it.

“Only when my intrusive thoughts are so bold,” You softly admitted, tilting your head to the side. “They can be rather impudent.” Oneiros’ eyes didn’t bother to stay constant to yours, drinking in the sight of your naked skin that still remained so empty of devotion. Of course he’d managed to paint upon your flesh a few touches of reverence, but it was still a far cry from a masterpiece he intended to finish.

“And what thoughts of yours have called for such remarks?” You didn’t miss the way his dark hunger filled eyes danced with amusement and interest. It was so much more pleasant than the agony he had started out with. You shifted where you were, slipping your legs over the side of the bed and perched yourself in a comfortable position that hid very little of your body. What did you have to hide from the being destined to be your husband? Your whole world?

“Only that you are not mine,” You answered loftily, kicking out a foot and wiggling your toes, you’d paint them upon returning home. Perhaps a nice shade of burgundy? The endless sipped on his wine for a few moments more, enjoying seeing you lounge about so relaxed. Certainly after he’d chased you around the city for nearly a week. He probed further.

“And your impudent thought?” You lifted your chin, a half smile upon your lips.

“Yet,” Your one word answer had the goblet of wine halting half way to his lips, blue eyes gaining a silver tinge to them. Yet. Such a simple word that spoke of a vast future he could indulge in. Could? No, he would indulge for you had given him explicit permission. Lazily placing his goblet of wine to the side, Oneiros let his eyes drink in your body for just a few moments more before rising from his seat.

He hadn’t bothered to pin his chiton as you had noted earlier, so when he stood tall the silken fabric fluttered to the floor giving you a more than mouthwatering view of the endless. You began wondering if all the statues in Athens had been modeled after Oneiros because he had the chiseled body of pure marble. Stars more like it.

“Care to drink delights from the source?” You offered, leaning back on your hands with a smirk. You let your eyes drop to the sizable erection that had, only hours before, carved pure delight and pleasure from your body. Sliding your hand along the soft sheets, you offered your palm out to him. “Or would you prefer the soft touch of my hand and lips? I think I’ve abstained from you long enough.”

“Abstained?” Oneiros repeated, moving forwards like a leopard closing in on prey. “You have kept yourself and your temptress being from me with intention. Do not think that I shall so easily give you the pleasure of my body to your own whims after your lascivious actions.” Oh you wanted to laugh at his words! Lascivious!? He was in for a surprise now that you were actually trying. So when you giggled softly in amusement at his entirely unveiled threat, the Endless decided that you, perhaps, needed a little lesson in humility.

Converging on your leisurely perched body, Oneiros had you falling onto your back with a soft gasp as he hovered over your body, arms pressed on either side of your head. You couldn’t help the streak of fire that bloomed between your legs, certainly not when you had him hovering over you naked. Or did he have you beneath him?

Your breath hitched when Oneiros leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours, teasing you with the promise of a scorching kiss. The heat emanating from his body sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel the tension building between you. Would he ravage you like he had hours previously? You gazed up at him, the silver flecks in his eyes mesmerizing you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. He was so different yet entirely the same as the being you had married. Your fingers found themselves caressing his sculpted cheek, soaking in what you missed most dearly. The air crackled with anticipation as he finally closed the distance between your lips, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that left you breathless.

His hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that both thrilled and intimidated you. Every touch sent bolts of electricity through your veins, igniting a fire deep within you. You arched into his touch, wordlessly begging for more as desire coursed through your veins. With fire blazing within his eyes, he brought his mouth to the column of your neck. His tongue traced a path of fiery desire along your throat, leaving trails of burning sensation in its wake.

As he continued his slow descent, your sank your teeth into your lip to stave off a pathetic whimper. Your senses were being overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch, the tastes, the scents, the textures. Every part of your being seemed to grow more acute, more sensitive, as his touch became more intimate. Did your body not already know his touch? Had it forgotten it in the week you had been in Athens?

A tingling sensation spread across your skin as he slowly traced his fingers over your collarbone and down to the soft curves of your breasts. He cupped your breast firmly in his hand and leaned in to kiss it, his warm lips pressing against your sensitive flesh. The warmth of his tongue against your nipple sent shivers down your spine as he swirled it around, teasing and tantalizing you.

Your shoulders pressed against gossamer linen when Oneiros’ mouth fully encapsulated your breast, suckling and grazing his teeth against your soft skin. The sigh that passed through your parted lips was one of pure pleasure, yet touched by a need for more. The throb between your sticky thighs was demanding his attention, not your breasts.

“Please,” You rasped, fingers combing through hair while your nails softly scraped against his scalped. “I need you inside me.” A rumbling laugh, just barely discernible, emerged from his chest and intense eyes met your needing ones.

“And you will wait, αστέρι μου,” The Endless warned, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “For as long as it takes to be satisfied.”

“As long as what takes to be satisfied?” You almost feared his response.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your jawline, leaving a trail of warmth that seared into your skin.”My hunger,” he whispered in your ear, sending a frightful shiver up your spine. Well shit. Your husband was known to have quite the appetite but this... this was hunger on a whole different level. While your brain was internally panicking, Oneiros scraped his teeth down your body. Biting at your neck, nipping your breast, sinking his teeth into your hip until you bucked them against his sinful mouth…

Your nails scratched his scalp all the way down to the nape of his neck and your entire body trembled because he hadn’t even put his mouth anywhere near your cunt yet! You really should have thought this through before offering. Oh well, too late to turn back. Like you would even want to. Your lips parted and a strangled sound slipped from your lips when Oneiros’ tongue dragged across your thigh, collecting the combination of your releases still marking your body.

His tongue licked up your body, leaving a wet trail from your thigh to your cunt. You arched your back, offering yourself to him, unable to contain the delectable moans that escaped your lips. He was devouring such beautiful sounds. Midnight stars met your gaze and the Endless didn't break his gaze from your face as he teased you, inching closer to the seeping wetness between your legs, the taste of you on his tongue. But never exactly where you wanted him! Oh what a vindictive love your husband could be. Sweet, sweet, torturous love. A kind of love that you never got to experience but were certainly now hungry for.

The intensity of Oneiros' gaze still lingered, his eyes burning into yours with a fiery passion. The sweet scent of your combined releases clung to his lips as he reached over for his abandoned goblet of wine. His fingers curled around the stem, the red liquid swishing as he brought it to his waiting lips. A contented smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he savored the taste, his gaze never leaving yours. It was delicious, but not as delicious as you. Rather set the goblet aside and resume his wanderings of your body, your eyes nearly bulged when he carelessly, and entirely on purpose, spilled the rest of his drink upon your body.

The crimson liquid dripped and stained the pristine white sheets, snaking down your waist, your hip, and pooling along your thighs. The sight made your heart race, and a whimper escaped your throat as you squirmed beneath him. You were his to claim, and he knew it. He dipped his fingers into the spilled wine and ran them across your inflamed skin, leaving a trail of crimson and tingles. He smirked as he watched your face twist in pleasure and torment. You almost hated his smug face!

The haunting whisper of Oneiros, his words dripping with seduction and darkness, sent a chill down your spine. "Do you crave this, αστέρι μου?" he murmured, his voice laced with a dangerous desire that made your entire body shiver. His words were like poisoned honey, tempting and deadly. Why had you never seen this side of your husband? "Do you yearn to taste me like I yearn for you? To succumb to the depths of my darkness?" You’d bask in it if that meant he would be happy. With every word, his grip on you tightened until you could feel his presence consuming you entirely.

“Do stars not shine brightest when cradled by the night?” You breathlessly answered, fingers winding through obsidian strands until you had a solid hold. You pulled his face back to yours. "I am nothing without the darkness that consumes me." You whispered across his lips, daring to taste the wine from his lips once more. He let you, for only but a moment, then detached your fingers from his hair and pressed your wrist beside your head. Damn it.

“What greed you have this day,” He growled softly, running his free hand down your side and to your wine soaked hip and thigh. “Shall I bring out silk and ribbon to rectify your insatiable appetite?”

“So says the starving man refusing to eat,” You bravely countered. That was, perhaps, the wrong thing to say to him, for his eyes turned black and a deadly smirk appeared on his wine soaked lips. He didn’t respond, but you could feel the tension from your words within his touch as he pulled up one of your wine splashed thighs and licked your flesh.

The heat of his tongue had you squirming and arching against his body, wiggling in such a way that Oneiros cock twitched, demanding attention.

Gods you wanted to wrap your lips around him so bad.

But was he going to let you? Of course not. You’d given him permission to indulge in your body, to sate his thirst. So you were left squirming in his grasp as he licked your thighs clean of the wine he intentionally spilled and softly whimpering at each bite Oneiros made. When his teeth scraped upwards, you bucked your hips and pulled against his grasp, chasing after the high of pleasure Oneiros was slowly pulling from your body. He hadn’t even touched your clit and you were already on the cusp of an orgasm!

Tracing a trail of wine up the curve of your pelvis, Oneiros allowed his tongue to linger in the places you shivered and shed away from.

Your breath hitched as his tongue flicked against the most sensitive spots, drawing out gasps that seemed to further arouse him. The tips of your fingers curled into the sheets, seeking purchase in a world where you were losing your grip. Your eyes fluttered open, the darkness around you filled with shadows of Oneiros' fierce intensity.

His fingers, slick with your arousal, found their way to your cunt, rubbing circles that sent shivers down your spine. "Please," you begged, your voice wavering with need. "Please, I need more."

Oneiros chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your body. "Patience, my dear," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You've had me at my most impatient, and now it's my turn to indulge in you. But first, I want to taste you."

With that, he lowered his mouth to your cunt, inhaling deeply. He licked his lips, savoring the scent of your arousal, and then he dove in.

His tongue danced around your folds, tracing delicate patterns that sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your limbs. You moaned and thrust against his mouth, craving more of his touch. But he wasn't hurried; instead, he took his time, savoring every taste, every sound you made.

His fingers curled around your thighs, holding you open for his exploration. Oneiros pressed his fingers against your entrance, teasing you gently, drawing out your wetness and heightening your arousal. The wet sounds of his mouth against your sensitive skin filled the room, as did your gasps and whimpers, like a symphony of desire.

He continued to explore, his tongue darting in and out, tasting you deeply, while his fingers teased your cunt vindictively. You were lost in a whirlwind of sensation, your body arching and twisting beneath his skilled touch. Your breath came in short gasps, and you clawed at the sheets, trying to hold onto something, anything, in this swirling sea of pleasure.

Oneiros' eyes lingered on your face, watching your expressions of ecstasy, and he knew the moment was close. Leaning forward, he dragged his tongue up your sensitive flesh, teasing your clit with the faintest touch. The muscles in your thighs tightened, and you let out a strangled moan as the tips of his fingers circled your cunt, keeping you teetering on the edge.

With your climax within reach, he moved his mouth away, his eyes never leaving yours. You whimpered in protest, but he shook his head, smirking. "Not yet, αστέρι μου. I want to feel you come apart in my hands."

You stared back at him, your eyes wide with pleading. He was being such a bastard about this!

He resumed his ministrations, his fingers now thrusting inside you in a rhythm that perfectly matched the pulsing of your arousal. Your muscles gripped his fingers like a velvet vice, drawing him deeper inside you with each thrust. Meanwhile, his tongue continued its dance with your clit, each caress more urgent than the last.

Your body began to convulse, your moans growing louder and more desperate. Oneiros watched as your face screwed up with the intensity of your pleasure, and he knew that the moment of your climax was near.

Just as you were about to break free from the throes of your orgasm, he pulled away, yet again. Your eye twitched in anger.

“Surely you aren’t this cruel,” You rasped.

Oneiros locks his intense gaze on you, his voice dripping with sensual urgency. "Surrender to me completely," he urged, his breath hot against your ear. "Embrace the ecstasy and let it consume you, αστέρι μου." His words send shivers down your spine as you struggle to resist the overwhelming desire pulsing through your body.

 You closed your eyes, imagining the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the feel of his fingers inside you. How good he felt within your body. Your pleasure peaked and tipped over the breaking point.

Your body arched and shook, your moans filling the room with their raw intensity. Oneiros watched, his own desire building, as you reached the peak of your climax. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, and your cries grew louder and more intense. You finally called out his name. "Oneiros!"

He knew that you were now truly his, and he could feel the power of your submission coursing through him. Your body trembled beneath his touch, surrendering to the pleasure he provided. Your chest ached and your cunt throbbed, you still held a thirst that he had yet to sate.

“Is that all you wish to consume?” You boldly question in between pants. Teeth sink into the meat of your thigh and you groan, the pain ever so delicious combined with the high still clinging to your limbs.

He chuckled darkly, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "That is only the beginning," he whispered, tracing his fingers along the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh as he rises above you, hovering in such a way that his cock hovers just above your cunt. He gazes into your eyes with a hint of hunger and a promise of satisfaction. "Prepare to be devoured," he says, his voice low and husky. " For I have so much more to give you."

Your body trembles, your heart racing as anticipation washes over you. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, the tension between the two of you reaching an almost unbearable high. Oneiros slowly moves his hips, teasing you with the head of his cock, brushing against your most sensitive spots. You buck and writhe, but his hold upon you is strong. You go to complain, but your mouth is intercepted by his.

His lips crash against yours, swallowing your protest in a frenzied kiss that leaves you breathless and weak. You feel the thrust of his tongue, tasting and claiming you, his actions echoing the intentions of his body as he inches closer to your cunt.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, need coursing through your veins. Oneiros smirks, his eyes gleaming with lust and dominance. Where was this feral version of your husband? How had you not experienced his rabid love before?

As his lips continue to devour yours, Oneiros' fingers trace a path up your arm, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You are mine," he growled possessively, his voice rumbling like a low thunder. "And I will take you. Every part of you."

"Please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. "Take me. Make me yours."

Oneiros smirked wickedly, his eyes gleaming with hunger and satisfaction. He grips your thigh, pulling it against his side, and with one swift movement, he thrusts himself into you. Your fingers dig into the bedding beneath you, nails turning to claws as you throw your head back. The sensation of him inside you is unlike anything you've experienced before. Raw, primal, and undeniably powerful. Godly.

Your breath hitches as he begins to move, slowly at first, but then increasing in pace. Each thrust is deliberate, each kiss more possessive, each whisper even more lust soaked the the previous. You're losing yourself in this erotic whirlwind, in this animalistic fusion of pleasure and pain. You feel him deep inside,  claiming you as his own. All over again.

As Oneiros' thrusts become more intense, his eyes locked onto yours with an animalistic hunger, you find yourself lost in his gaze. His dominance overwhelms you, yet it also liberates something within you, a wild and untamed desire. You enjoyed this side of him.

Your body arches beneath him, each movement synchronized with his, one being fueling the other. Your moans become cries of pleasure.

Oneiros' breath is heavy against your skin, his voice low and urgent as he demands more. More?  One of your hands finds his back and you dig your nails into his pearlescent flesh.

He grips your hips harder in tune, pulling you even closer to him, and you know that he's reaching the peak of his control. Your eyes meet his in the hazy, intimate moment, and you can see the raw hunger reflected in his gaze. He leans down to whisper in your ear, "Give yourself to me, αστέρι μου."

You nod, gasping for air as his thrusts become even more urgent. You feel your own release building, a fiery tempest threatening to consume your entire body. Your nails, digging into his back, nearly draw blood as crescent moon-shaped marks upon his skin appear. A cry  departs your lips and Oneiros jumps at the chance to devour that precious sound.

He kisses you fiercely, his tongue invading your mouth, tasting your affection for him. You moan into his kiss, your body trembling violently with the force of your orgasm. The room fills with the sound of your combined passion, a symphony of raw emotion and near feral desire.

As you come down from your peak, Oneiros holds you close, unfairly, not out of breath. He chooses to remain in your arms and resting his head upon your chest, finding the steady beat of your ‘mortal’ heart calming.

His voice is soft now, but still possesses that undertone of desire. "You are the light that has guides me from darkness, αστέρι μου," he murmurs, silver blue eyes ablaze in possession. “And yet, I cannot fathom that which you have descended from like a dove clasping an olive branch.” You stare at the ceiling, your body shivering as the aftershocks of his possessive love continue to spread.

“Do you really wish to know me, my lord?” You speak, your voice hoarse. “My story is short and uninviting to one so grand. I’d much rather indulge in the delights of your company.”

“Oh, αστέρι μου," Oneiros murmured, his words a gentle caress upon your skin as he nuzzles your chest. His voice is filled with reverence and adoration. "Your story is now entwined with mine, and it is one I am eager to unravel. For you are a shining star in the dark expanse of my night, a radiant being I have yet to meet. And one I design to devour."

Date Published: 5/21/24

Last Edit: 5/21/24

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[hopelessrromantix]

Okay, but sandman is SO GOOD. Maybe the reader being good friends with Morpheus and getting secret admirer notes delivered by ravens? And obviously Morpheus has Absolutely no idea who might be writing these letters to his friend. No, the ravens look nothing like *his* ravens. He has no idea what you are talking about.

I AGREE anyway more sandman reqs pls

(reader is personification of Love)

If you didn’t know Dream of the Endless as well as you did, you would’ve been insulted.

Sending love notes?

To Love?

Usually notes to you were full of empty promises and false feelings. But did he truly think sending a love note would give him any sort of anonymity? You could practically feel the love soaking the page the second the paper touched your hand. And though the letters were only signed “One Who Loves You” you weren’t as oblivious as Dream seemed to think.

In the beautiful, intricate realm that you ruled over, full of your beloved roses and the array of other lovely flowers, a jet black raven stood out. Especially when the people of your realm knew their ruler was friends with an Endless known for his ravens. Plus, they loved gossiping about you and Morpheus.

Echoing footsteps brought your attention down the steps of your throne to the entryway.

“Eros. What news?” You questioned, recognizing the man at the door.

He was one of your most trustworthy cupids and he'd been working with you ever since you created him. He was shorter than you, but obviously very physically strong.

“Ah, well…” He trailed off a bit before he was interrupted by a caw, a pair of black wings entering your throne room. “... he sent another, your majesty.”

“I can see that,” You hummed. You held out your arm, silently giving permission for the bird to land on you and hand over the letter in its mouth. “I take it I still don’t get to know who these are from?” You asked, your tone light.

“Nope. Sorry, uh, your highness.”

You laughed at the bird (it hadn’t even told you it’s name). “Princes are ‘highness’, you mean ‘your majesty’.” You joked, smirking at the alarm that flashed through its eyes.

“Right. Knew that. Sorry, your majesty.”

“Love works just fine, my dear.” You waved off his apology, letting him fly off.

“You’re still playing along, my lord?” Eros questioned, a wide smirk on his freckled face.

You chuckled. “It’s sweet, don’t you think?” You unraveled the tied letter, your eyes scanning the scrawled text. “‘Your features steal the breath from my body and your words the heart from my chest.’ I don’t think even I could write better.” You smiled. Morpheus was not a man you imagined would pour his heart out like this, but in fairness, maybe he really did think you didn’t know.

You could hear Eros mumbling under his breath. “You only think so because you love him… your grace.”

You sighed. Love could drive people mad, you were very good at it. But when you were the one in love, it didn’t seem quite so mad.

“You dislike him?”

“I dislike his pathetic idea that Love themself is not capable of knowing who sends ravens to their doorstep.” You raised a brow at him. “Your eminence.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t care about the title, Eros.” You huffed, smiling at your second in command. “He’s not pathetic, he’s in love. Love makes everyone just a bit dizzy, hm?”

“You mean love makes everyone pathetic?”

“Love only makes you pathetic if you ignore it. So how about I give Morpheus a push.”

"Dream Lord." You greeted, nodding as he entered one of the many rooms in your Haven.

"Love."

You smirked at the formality.

You laid back against the rather dramatic chaise you owned, the blood red color complimenting the robes you wore.

He took a seat on one of the chairs by your legs, the deep color contrasting his pale skin. He looked beautiful.

You swung your legs around, leaning toward him on the seat. "You know, you are my closest friend, Morpheus." You began, dropping the titles.

"A position I hold with pride, Y/n."

He was always charming for a man so cold.

“As such I must confess to you, I’ve been receiving love letters as of late.” You watched him tense slightly, a movement you doubted anyone else would be able to catch.

Your finger met his thigh, tracing whatever patterns came to mind. “Don’t you always?” He questioned.

“These ones are special.” You smirked, your eyes glimmering as you felt the familiar feeling of love in the air. “They’re beautiful. Written by someone who’s fallen in love with me.”

He smirked to himself, “Doesn’t everyone who writes you say the same things?”

You nodded and sighed, letting your cheek rest on his thigh, internally smiling at the way he instantly froze. “They’re never truly in love with me. Just the concept of Love itself. But these letters, whoever writes them truly loves me.”

“And what do you think of them?” His attempt to question you, clearly struggling on where to put one of his hands. You helped him out eventually, grabbing it and holding it in your own.

“I think they’ve insulted me greatly.”

“Insulted you?”

You didn’t miss the worried look in his eye. You could feel how fast his heart beat, how the love persisted, but fear tainted it.

“Yes,” You sighed, allowing the panic to seep in a second longer. Perhaps you were a bit petty that Morpheus didn’t think you were strong enough to sense when someone was in love with you. You were Love itself, after all. Plus, not many deities were known for their talking ravens.

“And how have they managed this?” He questioned, his voice quieter than before.

“For some reason, they have assumed that I, Love themself, cannot sense when someone loves me.”

“I see.” He opened his mouth to say more but you stood up from the chair, now standing over the man before you.

You brought a hand up to his chin, fingers tilting his head up to look at you. You felt the rush of love in the room, love he had attempted not to show. “Only the overconfident or the hopelessly romantic send letters to Love,” you explained. “Tell me, Dream of the Endless, which are you?”

“Me?” He questioned. Perhaps he was too shocked by your question, but you wondered if he really didn’t think you knew.

“Did you think a raven flying through my palace wouldn't start up rumors? Besides, even now I can feel your love pulsing beneath your skin.” His eyes left yours, feeling less confident under your gaze. “You really thought I wouldn’t recognize someone in love?”

"I meant no offense," he nervously clarified. You chuckled at his tone, far less commanding than you usually saw from the Dream King.

"I know you didn't, Morpheus." You reassured, smiling down at him. "If I loved you any less I might have been upset."

You watched as your statement set in, his demeanor softening. The relief in his soul was palpable.

You gripped his chin softly, still tilting his head up to face you. His skin was warm against your fingers, the love he held for you burning just beneath the surface.

"You return my feelings?"

"‘Your features steal the breath from my body and your words the heart from my chest'." You smiled softly, watching him melt into your hand. "That is what your most recent letter said, correct?"

He only nodded, too caught between how softly you held him and how lovingly you looked down at him.

"Will you kiss me?"

"Only if you let me love you."

"I'd be a fool if I didn't."

[roguelov]

MY LOVEEEEEE I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA 🥰 So what if you're like maybe 6-7 months pregnant with Morpheus's child and because Morpheus is an Endless the baby has powers. For this specific one, the baby is an empath and sends you, big waves of emotions from the womb to tell you if they're happy, hungry, sleepy, etc. Morpheus loves seeing the beautiful bond between you two but is also slightly upset because the baby never sends him any emotions.

Que to like a day or two later, you're sleeping and Morpheus is getting ready to leave for work for that day. Just as he's about to walk out of the bedroom door, he's hit with the strongest wave of sadness, that it has him stumbling, because your baby doesn't want him to leave. And knowing Morpheus, he'd probably cry because of it and refuse to leave your side for the rest of your pregnancy.

Reinassance from Twilight??? Sorry 😂 that’s all I thought of when I was reading this but it’s still a cute idea!

Morpheus had stirred awake first, he mostly always does. He craned his head over to see you sound asleep. His eyes softened as he watched you sleep. You needed it, this pregnancy had taken a lot from you. Yet, you never complained, it took it all in east strides.

He wished he could stay here, however the Dreaming all needed his aid. With a heavy sigh, he slipped out of bed quietly. Once he readied himself, he snuck over back to you. He kissed your forehead then your belly, silently wishing you both to rest well. However, as the Endless was leaving, a strong emotion rolled through him. Heartache circled around his throat squeezing him. He stumbled slightly, his palms hit the wall by the door. He whipped his head around to see you still asleep. But, he knew the cause of this.

The baby.

His baby who now shared blood with an Endless was already powerful in the womb. And his baby now cried out wishing for their father to stay.

Morpheus’s heart nearly wept.

“Oh my child,” he whispered. “The Dreaming -“

Another wave of sadness crashed over him.

“Little one, I cannot -“

The sadness shifted. It was a plea.

Morpheus steadied himself. His eyes were slightly teary as he took a long exhale.

An hour later, you slowly stirred awake. You heard low mumbling coming from beside you. Cracking open your eyes, you saw Morpheus speaking, but not to himself, but to your child.

“Fret not, little one, I am here,” he murmured. “I will not go anywhere.”

Your heart fluttered hearing him say such sweet words. “Morning, Morpheus.”

Morpheus tipped his head back looking to you. “Good morning, my love.”

“I thought you would have left by now.”

“I considered it however I believe I will try to stay more by your side … and our baby’s side,” he said with a softer tone at the end.

“You don’t have to keep us company -“

“Oh but I believe I do,” Morpheus hummed. “I shouldn’t leave you both at this pivotal time. And I do not want to be rude, but what if you need my aid?”

You rolled your eyes a bit, but a smile still lingered on your lips. “I am not entirely helpless.”

“No, you are not, but I wish to stay for both of your sake’s.”

Your smile grew. “Only if you want to.”

“I do,” Morpheus smiled then joked softly. “And I do not think this little one wishes for me to go too far.”

You and Morpheus both felt a burst of giddiness and happiness coming from your child. Morpheus smiled, unable to believe this was all happening. Irony would say it felt like a dream to him.

“Yes, I am staying like a stated before,” he whispered then kissed your belly and your lips. “What is it that you need my love? Let me help you in anyway.”

You grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “Nothing at the moment, I am happy right here.” Hunger quickly rippled through you. You groaned. “Actually perhaps our bottomless pit of a child wishes to have some food.”

Morpheus chuckled. “Of course.”

[hardly-an-escape]

Happy birthday!!! <3 I hope your day is great and you enjoy your floating! Have a bit of retired Dreamling fluff as a treat~

"Morpheus?" Hob calls from the kitchen. Morpheus looks up from the book he is reading, A Court of Thorns and Roses—a terrible representation of the Fae, but he finds he still cannot leave the story unread.

“Yes?” Hob peaks around the corner, hand towel tossed over his shoulder and hair slicked back by the bright green headband. He looks resplendent.

“Think you can give me a hand here really quick? I’ll spill this batter all over if I try it myself.”

Morpheus nods. Placing his bookmark—a space themed one this time, he sets the book down and pads over to the kitchen. He’s engulfed in a mix of warm spices and mouth-watering beef alongside the sugary sweetness of chocolatey cake batter. He smiles as he steps beside Hob who stands at the counter, bowl in hand, with the circular pan greased and ready next to him.

“Shall I hold?” Morpheus asks, holding a hand out. Hob passes him over the filled bowl and grabs the spatula. It’s easy work with the two of them to transfer the mixture over. Hob hums along quietly to the music playing from the radio. It is something he has grown quite fond of over this last year he has spent with Hob since his retirement—there is always some sort of noise to fill the silence. He appreciates it. When he used to be Dream, there was never quiet save the time he was imprisoned. And when he first became human, the quiet returned. It was…unpleasant. And something Hob noticed, so he ensured there would always be noise to fill the space where the collective unconscious no longer was.

“Perfect,” Hob says, scooping the last bit of batter in. “Want to lick the spoon?” Morpheus sets the bowl down and takes the rubber spatula from Hob’s hand. Another thing, he has learned after having a truly human body, is how addictive sweets were. Hob indulges him whenever he can.

He licks a stripe up through the rich, chocolatey batter and hums and the sugar coats his palette. It is good. Very good, in fact. A part of him wishes they did not have to bake it. There are only a few licks more until it is clean. He puts the spatula in he freshly emptied bowl and leans forward to press his lips to Hob’s own.

“Thank you. You spoil me.” He whispers against his lips. Warm hands pull him closer as Hob nuzzles against the side of his face.

“Always, love. Happy birthday.”

Morpheus huffs. “I do not have a birthday.”

“Well, you became human a year ago now. Close enough to a birthday if you ask me. ‘s what humans do, find reasons to celebrate, after all. Just means more reasons for me to spoil you.”

“Mm. Perhaps having a birthday would not be so terrible.”

omg I LOVE THIS. yes!! let Dream have a birthday!!! 😭😭😭

how amazing would it be for him to have a day that's just about him – not his purpose or his function or his realm or his family, just him. the sweets he likes, the music he likes, the people he likes. he deserves to retire and read books and get spoiled rotten 😭

thank you soooo much!!!

[lichanicksstuff]

I started watching doctor who for the first time like two weeks ago (I'm only on season two so please don't spoil anything). But only now have I started to wonder what would a crossover between the sandman and doctor who look like. (I don't know everything about doctor who universe, so excuse me).

I think it would be funny, if Doctor and Hob met in like early 1700s, became friends for like a day and stuff. But then they would meet again. 200 years later.

Hob would probably not be so shocked, because he's aware of the fact that there are other immortals out there, so he just asks what is the Doctor doing here. But Doctor on the other hand is absolutely flabbergasted because what the hell is this guy doing here, looking the same?! He's a human after all, why is he still alive?!

But then Hob asks if he was also given immortality by the strange man. He starts to describe Dream, because he still doesn't know said guy's name: "You know, the black hair, black eyes, black clothes, black pants, black boots and pale white skin guy!" And after a longer second the Doctor does realise that Hob is talking about Morpheus.

The thing is: Morpheus hates the Doctor. He's just walking around, playing with the realm of his father who somehow still allowes that. So if Dream finds out the Doctor is fraternizing with his friend (Hob called him that, so they must be close, even if he doesn't know Dream's name. He's a private anthropomorphic personification of dreams. Forgive him) even if Dream very clearly told him to stay away from everything and that he won't hesitate if the Doctor does not obey... Well, things might get a little complicated for the man who dares to call himself Time Lord. Very complicated even. Very, very complicated. Meeting with Death forever level of complicated.

But it turnes out that Hob is pretty helpful: he knows all about Earth and what's happening, what year is it, why are people walking in this weird kind of way- oh no, they're tap dancing. And Hob always buys him a drink, who would say no to this?

So Hob and the Doctor meet all across the centuries, sometimes people die, but Hob does not because he's immortal. It's nice for the Doctor to have a friend who's not dead after a glimpse of time.

But then the Doctor accidentally interrupts the 19th meeting between Mr. Gadling and Dream of the fucking Endless. Doctor is a little nervous by the fact that he might die any second, but Hob in all his sweetness and being his oblivious self; introduces the Doctor to Dream.

Dream is pretty angry, a little furious, a bit rabit, and it only makes the Doctor sweat more and more. But he has no heart to tell Hob, he has to get out of here before his dear friend will end his 900 years old of existence. So he sats down at the table, and all of them eat a dinner in the most uncomfortable and lethal atmosphere the Doctors felt in his life.