#morpheus angst

[writethrough]

feel free to imagine a sexy interpretation. Also, I'm going to add a loss of virginity here just for fun. In this scenario, Dream is finally willing to admit to himself that he loves the reader, but he's still not willing to confess (and he's also still a possessive/obsessive jerk), so instead he chases after the woman's dreams, especially until even your wet dreams. And 2 possible catalysts here, either Dream sees that the reader is dreaming about having sex with someone else and becomes insanely jealous or he sees someone flirting with the reader in the waking world and becomes insanely jealous XD. This is so Dream, like a king, he feels entitled to the reader and his time, and while he's trying to work up the courage to confess, he makes sure the reader can't hook up with anyone else.

I Am Yours, But Are You Mine

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Warnings: Minor language, suggestive situations, kinda possessive Morpheus

Word Count: 1651

A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you so much for being so patient! Unfortunately, Morpheus has been one of those characters that I haven't been as motivated to write. And I hate forcing myself to write when I'm uninspired. Thankfully, I found sparks of it here and there.

I tried to follow your request as truly as I could (the lost of virginity didn't quite make it), but I ran with your possible catalyst options! I do think I need to work on my jealous/entitled Morpheus, though. I think he could've turned out better.

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! And thank you for requesting it!

Images of you and that human haunted him. It was all he could think about as he sat on the staircase to his throne. How that man approached you. How he smiled, and you returned it. How he made you laugh, soft and delicate.

Morpheus’ jaw tightened, and he snapped his book shut.

Was it too late?

Had he lost you before he could have you?

He closed his eyes, trying to fight those thoughts with the ones of you and him.

How, when Morpheus appeared, you greeted him with warmth and tenderness. How you touched his arm in reassurance or when you were startled. You knew he would protect you. It was instinctual how you moved closer and tucked yourself behind him.

He had never felt more vital.

And yet, earlier, you had that same kindness for that man.

How long had you known him? When did you meet him? What was he to you?

You would have told Morpheus about any romantic partners.

His fist clenched as his arm hung off his knee.

To think, mere days ago, he had realized that he loved you. He would have been content to dedicate himself to you silently. An ever-present confidant for his heart’s deepest desire. How quickly things could change.

He had to do something.

—

Morpheus had grown more agitated throughout the day. The more he thought about you and that man, the darker his mind became. 

He had finished crafting new nightmares when he sensed you had entered the Dreaming.

He had to go to you. He needed to know what that man wanted from you—and if you wanted anything from him.

You didn’t need anything from that human.

He was quick to find you within your dream.

A replica of your home, which he found strange. Rarely did your dreams play out here. You were usually conscious within the Dreaming. And his heart went out to you, knowing your day must have been stressful.

He peered into your room and nearly unleashed every nightmare in his realm.

You were laid bare with that man hovering over you.

Morpheus’ knuckles whitened. And before he could think better—before he could calm himself. He swiped the dream away and sent you into the Waking World.

—

You woke with a frustrated groan.

Of course. Of course, you had to wake up when things were getting good.

You scrunched your nose when you recalled who had been in your dream.

You sighed. At least your subconscious knew not to dream about Morpheus in his kingdom. You might actually die if that happened.

Though, the replacement for him wasn’t all bad. You had noticed the similarities when you met him right away. Tall, black hair, lithe, but his eyes were brown and not the blue you had come to love. And where Morpheus’ presence held authority and power, the stranger’s had a shyness, a quiet confidence that you may have been attracted to in a different time. However, you only wanted one being.

You stretched before climbing out of bed.

You weren’t sure when you realized you loved Morpheus, but after you internalized it, you promised to never act on it.

There had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of creatures who had fallen for the Dream King. And yet, you had only heard of two that captured his attention. Who were you to think you stood a chance of being his? He was one of the most important beings in existence. You were a measly human—here and gone before he could blink.

You shook your head.

You were grateful for Morpheus’ friendship. He listened and held an interest in you that you couldn’t understand. You would gladly take whatever relationship you could have with him. 

You slowly got ready for your day. You had more time with your early waking and decided to do more with your makeup. It had been years since you applied makeup for someone else’s benefit. But you wondered if Morpheus would notice anything different.

Scrunching your nose again, you rid that thought from your mind. Morpheus didn’t care about how you looked. He’d told you appearances meant little to him, that it was dreaming that held someone’s true soul.

You wished you could know his.

—

Morpheus would’ve broken his teeth if he were human—and perhaps his wrist, too, if he squeezed any tighter.

He stood with his hands behind his back, staring out the stained glass windows in his throne room.

He had stopped your dream from continuing, but the reality was different.

His entire arsenal of power was at his disposal. Morpheus could do whatever he wished to that human, but that would only end in you being upset with him—or furious if extreme enough.

No, Morpheus had to prove himself. He had to make you see that he was the only one for you—that only he could provide for and protect you—stand by you in the way you deserved.

And he’d do so tonight.

—

Morpheus appeared in your kitchen doorway, mind racing. Anger and fear and uncertainty beneath a stony exterior.

And then he saw you. As stunning as ever.

And it all vanished.

All except his desire to tell you.

Your kindness and strength had lured him to you the moment you met. He’d come to know how closely you held those you cared about, and somehow, he was one of them.

And the thought of letting you go, of you choosing someone else…he couldn’t fathom that.

You brought him so much peace.

You spun from your refrigerator to your island, produce in hand, and finally saw him.

“Shit, Morpheus!” You held a hand to your heart. “Give me a warning next time.”

His face remained as still as ever, but you swore you saw a passing gleam in his eyes.

“My sincerest apologies,” he said, stepping toward you.

You waved it away, half believing him.

“Want anything to drink?” you asked, chopping the first ingredient.

He scanned the food, but you weren’t entirely sure he was seeing it.

“I must ask something of you,” he said.

“Okay.” You placed the knife down. “What is it?”

“Have you found someone?”

You tilted your head, brow pinched. “Found someone?”

Morpheus never hesitated when speaking—and you weren’t sure that was the word for it now—but something made him consider his next question carefully.

“Are you spoken for?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, slowly connecting the dots.

“Are you asking if I’m dating anyone?” Your heart picked up. He had never asked something so intimate before.

“Yes.”

“No.” You licked your lips. “No. What brought this on?”

The faintest pink graced his cheeks. His eyes shifted to the side, then back.

“...You dreamt of him.” He breathed like something terrible would happen if he spoke louder.

Your heart clenched at his look of betrayal, trying to recall what he meant. Then, your eyes widened. He must have seen what happened at the coffee shop.

“Are you talking about that guy who came up to me?” you asked.

Morpheus shifted his chin downward, the most movement he used for a nod, and didn’t break eye contact.

“Morpheus…I don’t even remember his name,” you said, being as gentle with him as possible.

The space between his brows twitched. “You dreamt of him.”

Your head dropped in embarrassment.

You shrugged. “It’s been a while.”

It wasn’t much of an explanation. Although the guy had been attractive, you weren’t interested in him when he spoke—something unnecessary in dreams. All he had to do was get the job done, but with Morpheus' attitude, you could guess why that dream ended before anything could happen.

“Are you…jealous?” you asked.

“I am a king. I do not experience jealousy.” His head lifted ever so slightly.

“Historically, you do,” you said pointedly, trying to hide your smirk.

He hummed as if annoyed, but you knew better. You had stumped him.

“You are fortunate I hold you dear,” he said. “Not many can speak to me as such.”

You laughed breathily and stepped forward, grateful your answer pacified him.

You regarded him carefully. The smooth plains of his face, the sharp lines of his jaw and nose, his blue eyes. His lips. Your feelings for Morpheus were bubbling to the surface in a way you couldn’t ignore, and to think he possibly returned them? It nearly sent your head spinning.

“You know…I wouldn’t mind if you were a little jealous,” you said.

“And why is that?” He arched a brow, trying to remain composed.

“Because then it would mean you share my feelings,” you whispered. “It would mean I could kiss y—”

Lips were on yours—warm and powerful, a surge of pent-up passion. He’d waited far too long to taste you, to know the curves of your hips and the dip in your spine.

Your body melded into his as if he was the lock and you were the key. You opened him up to things he never thought he’d want to experience again. And you kept his secrets. You protected him. Made him feel safe. He was desperate to do the same for you.

You pulled away, but Morpheus followed, giving you quick kisses until you put a hand on his chest, laughing.

“Just…give me a second.” You inhaled. “One of us needs to breathe.”

The faintest pink graced his cheeks, and you grinned.

“I apologize. It slipped my mind,” Morpheus said.

You shook your head. “Don’t. Never apologize for doing that.”

You pecked his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and lingered just beyond his lips.

“Guess I have someone else to dream about,” you whispered, each word brushing your lips against his.

He let out a low rumble. “There is no need to dream.”

His hands grasped the back of your neck and pulled you into him. You moaned when his sand whirled around you, knowing exactly where you were headed.

Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.

[just-some-random-blogger]

hello, can i request

the reader is getting frustrated because she is having trouble coming, so she tries to fake it. Morpheus figures out what she's trying to do because he knows how her pussy feels when she's tight around him, so he gets mad and stops, leaving her wanting for the next few days....then when he finally gives in , is she sharpened all night as punishment? I hope this makes some kind of sense.

Good Thing

Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Lord Morpheus does not appreciate you faking it and your sweet dream turns into a nightmare.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: fem!reader, petty!dream, MDNI, smut (pwp, free use, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, light sadism, vaginal penetration, edging, temperature play, cunninglingus), typos, etc.

A/N: this has been in my drafts for ages T_T me so sorry. but ya know nonnie, what was so wild, when you sent this i was reading an aemond targaryen fic with he exact same prompt i was sent into orbit Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

I squirm as I am hoisted on his lap. I feel Dream's hot breath on my neck. My flesh was spilling between his fingers as he kneaded them. My hands were shaking as they latched around his neck.

He felt good. He felt so good-- he really did. But I was exhausted.

Dream brushes his nose against me, palms by the curve of my hips as he maneuvered me in sync with his movements. He snapped into me with a need that could not be quelled. His thighs and abdomen were hot and sticky with my slick. My whole body was burning with sweat and remnants of the multiple orgasms he's left me, he's left in me. He mutters against my ear, his deep voice making my shaky one even more unstable, "one more, my love."

One more.

But see, he's been saying this for hours.

And when I say hours, I mean there's no sense of time in the Dreaming, and he's taken fuck me to oblivion way to fuckin' seriously. And yet -

"I assure you," he crooned as he clutched the back of my head when it got too heavy for me to keep up, "my sister will not touch you. I will not let her take what's mine. She will not come near you," he sucks on my skin, "not when I have you in such a servile state."

Fuck me.

And he did.

And he was.

Still is.

My head rested on his shoulder. My body jolted with each of his thrusts. I felt my eyes water all over again, and now even my mouth was crying. I dribble on his skin as I whine, "D-Dream."

"Shhh," he kisses my head, "let me relax," he holds me firm in my place, "we have an arrangement, don't we? You want me to do this, don't you?"

I whimper when his thumb rubs on my oversensitive nub, "p-please-"

"I know," he tuts, "I know," he purrs, claiming my mouth with his, "just one more. Can you not give your beloved king one more sweet orgasm? Don't you want me to relax, darling? You said you'd let me do anything I want-"

"Dream-"

He sits up straighter, "and I want to feel you take pleasure in my love making."

A tired cry leaves my mouth.

"I need you to feel how much I love you, my jewel," he licks my neck and nips on my skin, "one more time."

"B-but you've been s-saying that-- for hours," I feel tears streak my cheeks.

He nods and licks my tears, "I swear to you, my love," his fingers dig into my flesh, "one last rupture is all I will ask of you now."

"Promise?" I blurt desperately.

Dream peppers kisses on my neck, "you have my word."

And fair enough, fair enough, he did promise me relief after. The words of an Endless were not fickle and I should have trusted in him. I mean I did! I do! But my mortal body could only take so much and so, I did what I had to do.

I faked it.

I faked it and immediately he stopped.

Thank. Goodness.

At least... it was a thank goodness in that moment.

I caught my breath as I melted like putty on him, allowing my body to bathe in its exhaustion though I did not feel pleasure from the squirming show I just put on.

Dream's hold on me relaxes. His hands come to my thighs as he adjusted me on him.

"T-thank you," I mutter.

"What was that?"

I heave as I look at him, "I said t-"

"You did not finish," he cuts, one hand coming to my back to keep me in place as he pulled back to scowl at me.

My silence proved me guilty. My stutter decided my sentence.

Dream's nostril flare and his jaw hardens, "hmmm." He reaches out for my face and pushes back my sweat soaked hair, "did you think I would not realize?"

I squeak when he pulls me off him and sets me down on his side. I fidget as I feel the cushion of the bed on my swollen, dampened thighs. I reposition myself uncomfortably as he leans on his knees and sighs.

"Dream-"

"I will not forget this."

"... w-what?"

Dream turns to me, eyes darker than normal, face tense and clearly irritated, "you will learn not to resort to trickery with me, insolent girl."

Well, fuck. "My love-"

I don't get to speak as he stands and eyes me in disdain, "if you do not want me to touch you-"

"I didn't say I don't want you to touch-"

"-then I shall have my leave and keep my hands to myself."

I sigh in frustration as I watch him walk away from me. I crumble on the bed and slam my head on the sheets. I look up and see he's already by the door, his clothing already manifested on him, "Dream. Dream, please-"

Dream reaches for the knob and slams the door shut on his way out.

For the next week, the whole Dreaming would be walking on eggshells around their king and it was all my doing.

A harsh winter fell on the Dreaming. Everyone was fighting for their life in the cold and I could no longer let them suffer because of my unintended offence and his exaggerated pettiness.

I manage to get Mervyn make Dream go to the throne room.

The throne room echoes, "so, you've resorted to trickery once more, brat."

I turn over my shoulder and jolt when I see Dream already looming over me. I clutch my chest as I look up at him, "don't be ridiculous. Am I not guest who can ask for the attention of the king?"

"No," he rebuts.

The windows of the throne room begin to get battered by hail. I flinch when a large, icy stone breaks through the glass. I turn to the thing on the floor, back to the being that was the reason why there was an eternal frost, "Dream, please-"

"So, I do not please you?" his voice reverberates through my rib cage as his form is obscured and grows larger.

My heart races as I reach out and try to touch him. My hands go through his form and I whimper, "my love."

He growls.

I gasp when his icy hand takes my cheek.

"You have offended me beyond reparation."

I flinch at his touch. Cold begins to creep up on me. I bite back the quip lingering on my tongue. How dramatic of him.

I try to reach out to him again and this time, he lets me touch him. I feel something like shoulders and I pull on him, "puppy, please-"

"Do not insult me," he barks, face coming into view as he looks down on me, "I've had enough of you."

A shiver runs down my spine.

His hand dig into the roots of my hair. He pulls my locks back and tilts my head up, "so..." he inhales deeply, "how shall I get retribution? What will you to to appease me?"

My pulse quickens. I bite my lip, "anything."

He scoffs, "and have you trick me again?"

"I -" I shudder when he circles around me, "I promise I won't complain. I'll be a good girl."

"I do not believe you," he leans into my neck from behind, "insect."

Goosebumps form on my skin, "Dream-"

He places a hand on my mouth, "silence."

I squeal into his hand and do my best not to squirm at the ice cold of his palm now scouring my body. He breathes against my skin and I flinch at the cold.

"Oh," he mocks, hand coming off my mouth, "are you cold, my love?"

I suck in a sharp breath, "y-yes."

He hums and kisses my jaw. His lips are ice cold, "my poor girl."

I flinch when his hands trace upward underneath my shirt, "perhaps removing your clothes will help you," he pulls my top off, "don't you agree?"

I shiver and pant at the notion.

"Well?" he coaxes.

I find myself nodding, "y-yes."

Dream kisses my cheek repeatedly, "very good."

He turns me around and begins to strip me naked. I begin to shiver more violently when I'm left bare. I feel my nose begin to clog.

Fuck, I'm going to die.

"D-D-Dream," I shudder, "I'm fre-eezing."

He pulls me into his chest. He is an icicle. He caresses my cheeks, "shhh," he leans in and kisses me, "you're mine. Nothing else will touch you but me," he lifts me up, "isn't that right?"

"R-r-r-r-ight," I wrap my legs around him.

I let out a hiss when I am upon a cold surface. I realize then that I was sat on his throne.

I continue to shiver as he pulls away and looks down on me. He tilts his head as snow begins to powder the room, "you will not touch me," he bends down, "am I understood?"

I nod quickly as I watch him drop to his knees.

He sighs, steam wafting up from his lips, "good girl."

I hiss, nails digging into the armrest, when his suddenly hot fingers touch my shaking knees and part them, "sweet Mary- fuck-"

He snorts, steam coming out of his nostrils, "you will not say any other name but mine."

I pant heavily as he takes my legs and throw them over his shoulder. I whine and so badly want to grab at him when I feel how warm he is. I lean into him and cry out when his mouth connects with my freezing skin. My belly quakes for multiple reasons when his large hand rubs my skin. My nails scrape the wood on the armrest. I scream his name out helplessly.

He sighs in satisfaction. I hear him in my head: very good.

I screw my eyes shut and rut into him, "please let me touch you."

"Never," he rather instantaneously retorts.

It continues like this. I tremble at his ministrations while snow continues to build all over the throne room, save for the area around him.

"Fuck," I shake off snow from my shoulder. I flinch when I feel his tongue working on me. I could barely feel my fingers though my lower half was warm, "p-please, my hands-"

My cries fall deaf on his ears.

It continues like this up until my voice is hoarse and my calves are shaking at the feel of him eating me up.

"F-fu- D-Dream-"

"Mmm," he finally looks up at me, face wet with slick and saliva.

Fuck, I hate him but he was so pretty. "P-please- m-my hands," I shudder."

I could see the warmth radiating off him, "what of your hands, little bug?"

"T-they're so cold-"

I whimper when he takes my hands and places them on his cheeks, "better?"

I nod, "thank y-you."

Dream smiles softly, placing a burning kiss on the inside of my thigh, "good girl."

My belly spasms when I feel his hot breath on my core again, "tell me. Will my beautiful toy trick her master again?"

I let out a overwhelmed sound when he slowly sinks his teeth into my aching core. I arch my back and dig my fingers in his hair, pulling firmly. My toes curl as I whimper, "n-no."

He hums against me. It makes me squeal.

He takes my legs and pushes me back, hanging my legs on the armrest, "you swear it to me?"

I whimper when he pulls away from my thighs and rises to his feet to kiss me. I bring him close and relish the feel of his warmth, "yes," I sink my face into his neck and rub my cheek on his skin, "yes! I swear, I swear-"

"Mmm," he places his arms around me, "I believe you."

Dream rubs his hands down my shoulders then my thighs and pulls back.

I look up at him as snowflakes fall onto his hair and lashes. He smiles at me then rubs my cheek with his warm hand, "best find your clothes in the snow, my love. It would be unfortunate if you caught a cold."

"W-What?"

With that, he retreats and wraps his coat around himself.

I shiver and watch my breath condense in the air Dream walks off, treading easily through the snow.

When I realize what was happening, I curl into myself and feel my body shake. Was it the cold? Anger? Betrayal? Who knew.

"Come quick, pretty girl. I will prepare a cup of tea for you in the kitchen," he calls over his shoulder, licking his lips as he heads for the door.

I hiss when I attempt to step into the snow. I whimper and look up as I clutch my chest, "you're not seriously leaving me? Dream?! DREAM!"

[miladysproblems]

MASTERPOST

Do not steal, repost, re-write Or translate my work without my given consent. I do not appreciate giving my work to any Ai enabled platforms or chat bots. Kindly respect a person's work. ♡I currently write♡ m stands for mature

Sandman(Netflix series) •Morpheus x human lover - fluff •Affliction(series) - angst, sad ending Part 1: Morpheus plans a date with you and doesn't turn up Part 2: You run and find Morpheus with calliope Part 3: Mathew comforts you but You leave morpheus

Percy Jackson (book and series mix?) •Percy Jackson headcanons<33- fluff

Bahubali stuff Maheshmati happy ending<33 - fluff Bhallaldeva x reader - power couple - fluff The king and queen - Bahubali x devsena - fluff

Loki Laufeyson Loki x reader - angst, fluff

Bridgerton Benedict bridgerton - pretty, fluff

Avatar 2 (mainly Neteyam) I'm not in my neteyam phase anymore so dont expect any fics for a long time. •Missed you -hurt/comfort, lil angst, fluff •Beautiful - tooth rotting fluff Part 1: Neteyam is alive and reconciles with his family but what about you? Part 2 (coming soon)

◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◆◇◆◇◆◇

☽I want to write☾ (hopefully I will soon enough)

Dramione

Yea.. I procrastinate a lot ╥﹏╥ ●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○ Request rules: I appreciate all requests apart from the ones that make me uncomfortable like Rape, too much dark romance(includes violence or abuse) Apart from that ask awayy.. ●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Walks along the Dreaming

Fandom: The Sandom

Paring: Morpheus x Dream of The Endless

Genre: Fluff

A/N: I love my tall white emo boy sm aaaaa Idk if I'm making it a blurb or nah

Summary: Dream and reader are walking through the Dreaming and Morpheus is just being cuteee because he thinks Reader is cute and it's just aaarrrrhhh

Morpheus watched the sun from his corner on the palace balcony. In the dreaming when the sun finally set a cool breeze filled the air. When the sun in the dreaming finally did set

Unlike in the waking world the sun was always out much longer and though he didn't need the night as it was just an time for mortals to rest their weary bodies. He'd come to love it.

Why?

Because of a certain someone he'd come across. He hadn't meant to get attached. He had been asked for a tour of the dreaming and he complied, it'd been eons since he'd hosted a mortal in his castle. He watched as she'd been mesmerised by what his realm had to offer.

Even now as he watched her slumped in the sands he wonders what's so special about her, why can't he get her out of his head. Maybe she accidentally spelled him.

That might have explained why he appeared beside her. She jumped slightly at his sudden appearance. Before she arose to her feet, bowing slightly

"Lord Morpheus, I hope I cause no trouble," he shakes his head. You've barely done anything except be kind. Something most humans must learn from you.

"May I join you," He asks his voice merely above a whisper. You shyly nod and sink back into the Sands. Morpheus claims a spot by you a fee inches apart. Together you both watch the sea.

After a beat he watches you, even as you cease and lay on your back as you gaze at the stars.

"If I may My Lord-"

"Morpheus,"

"Pardon?"

"You may call me Morpheus," her eyes widened.

"Morpheus," his name slipped off your tongue like honey from the finest aphrodisiac.

He said something which was too quiet for you to hear.

"What?"

"I like how my name sounds from your lips," you swore his eyes flitted down to your lips. Without really thinking much, his name left your lips again.

"Morpheus,"

"I could listen to you for an eternity," You racked your brain trying to remember what you meant to ask.

"You distracted me," you say softly. "I've forgotten what I wished to say," Morpheus chuckled.

"I apologise. Would you, would you care for a walk along the dreaming? Before you retire, It helps with remembering." He asked. "You are within your rights to de-"

"I would be honored,"

"T'is I who should be honored," you blushed as you rose from the sands. The sands didn't cling to your clothes as mortal sand would.

He held out his arm. You flinched before you took it. A sharp pain slashed his chest. What had been done to you to make you so scared of him?

Was it his doing?

Your gripped his arm and gave him a small smile. It's not your fault

"Your realm truly is beautiful Morpheus, "

"It's merely an extension of me,"

"Then, you are beautiful," It came out before you could even think. "I-"

"Thank you although i think I should be the one to call you beautiful, considering you manage to be the main focus of anyone who gazes at you,"

You blush at his words.

"I wonder which other mortals or better goddesses you whisper such sweet things to," you say jealously singing in your head.

"On the contrary I tend to avoid most of them, especially those who seek for me for things other than...help"

"You did not avoid me,"

"True,"

"Why?"

"Something about you called to me, I am yet to know what,"

"I hope it's been worth you're while," you say jokingly.

"Without a doubt."

We reached a greenest gardens you've ever seen. The path through the garden shimmered and shone with glitter like stones.

The shrubs and bushes that greeted you held beautiful roses, some were red and some were white, others held different kinds of flowers in different colours.

The moon lit up the entire scene, it's white rays highlighting a swingset.

"Morpheus, this is beautiful," Your eyes roved over the entire place. Morpheus glanced around before looking at you. Then lush green garden

The lush green gardens were something he made eons ago, he'd seen it a million times but for someone like you to compliment them made him feel...warm.

He looked at you, the gardens may have once been the Dreamings most prized possession, but ever since your very prescence entered here.

It paled in comparison, even now as your eyes sparkled at it's beauty his eyes only ever where on you.

"It is quite a sight indeed," you turned to glimpse his face but froze once you noticed his eyes were on you.

"The garden?" You asked although you already knew the answer.

"You," your thoughts scrambled.

You

You

You...

"Me,"

"Yes," a light blushed coloured his cheeks. "You," your lips formed a smile one which he swore lit up the world. "May I be so bold as to ask you to to...extend your stay in the Dreaming." He paused. "I'm sure the residents would love to have you,"

By residents he meant him. Sure Lucienne would be happy to have another person around but he would be the most pleased.

"I would love that, I'd be honored to spend more time with the residents." Morpheus' heart leaped for the first time in centuries.

She leaned in and pecked his cheek. Morpheus smiled as he realised that:

1. He was in love something he'd never felt in eons

and

2. He was in love with you

***

Here's a lil something

🎁

[jay-blue32]

Not Here

-----------------------------------------

Dream of The Endless x Child/Teen Reader

Um... I don't know what this is. I was debating posting this so close to Father's Day but- screw it.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Angst no comfort ig..., I guess child abandonment, I don't know if that's what you'd call it.

Read it and Weep

-----------------------------------------

"Sooo, you will never, ever, ever, ever leave me all by myself again?" Dream smiled down at his daughter as he brought their foreheads together as he replied.

"Never."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"You promise?"

Y/n couldn't stop the smile from growing on her face as she watched her father firmly place a hand over his heart as though he were taking a proper oath (because he was) and repeated her words.

"I promise."

-----------------------------------------

A tear slipped from his eye and down his cheek as he relieved the memory.

That was nearly half a century ago. He made that promise only to leave the next day and never get back.

God, what must she think of him now?

----------------------------------------

"He's going to come back." Lucienne said softly, peering over her glasses in that oh so librarian way.

"You say that a lot." Y/n groaned, she was tired of hearing the same thing day after day.

"I say it because it's true." She answered sternly. "Do you really think he would have just left the Dreaming alone? Left you alone?"

Y/n didn't respond

"Do you?"

After a good second she answered,

"I don't know." Punctuating it with a weak shrug of her shoulder.

Lucienne looked almost surprised- almost

"I would think you would have much more faith in him."

"Fifty years can wear someones faith down."

"He's your father."

"Yea? Then where is he?" She swept her hands around, gesturing at the disheveled library- no one else was there but them. "Not here, that's for sure."

"He told me, no, he promised me that he wouldn't leave me. He promised-" She choked out slumping into one of the library's dusty victorian chairs.

"Why wouldn't he come back? Why..." The words raspy as she tried to hold back the tears on her lashes, if she blinked they'd fall.

"I've known your father for as long as I remember," Lucienne started as she put a hand on Y/n's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. "And if there's one thing I know it's that he has never broken a promise on purpose. Ever."

-----------------------------------------

He has to get out, has to get back. Back to the Dreaming, back to his little darling.

Was she even little anymore?

It's been nearly a century now.

She probably hates him. But Could he blame her?

He dropped his head, and with a voice so quiet it wasn't even a whisper, he repeated the words he spoke once before, "I promise."

-----------------------------------------

[writethrough]

This was the perfect fic to read on Valentine’s Day.😊

•𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆•

Title: To worship a king.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x fem!dream!reader.

Word count: 8003.

Warnings: Smut(18+ only - minors don’t interact) Oral (Male and fem receiving) unprotected sex(Remember to be safe!) Hair pulling, mentions of throat fucking, a little bit of angst and fluff.

Summary: You were Morpheus’ greatest creation and then you strayed from your purpose. You’re separated for a century and suddenly anger makes way for something else.

Author’s note: My first smut!!! Please tell me what you all think and if I should do more! I hope you enjoy and remember the gif isn’t mine!!!

•𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆•

18+ Only. Minors do not interact!

You were lustful, Morpheus had made you that way.

He made you for the dreamers that dreamt of fantasies so intimate or seemingly impossible that they could only live them within their sleep. He made you to be passionate, sensual and intense. He made you with the ability to see one's wants and pleasures.

You were lustful and you were content with that knowledge. You enjoyed travelling through dreams and partaking in the pleasure humans felt so strongly, you enjoyed the euphoria and ecstasy of sex.

In the beginning, anyway.

You adored being able to pick up only any wants and desires, you relished in your experience and you prided yourself in the way you would leave dreamers gasping and missing some foreign touch when they woke.

But you soon realised lust and love were two sides of the same coin.

Especially when you discovered you were in love with your creator, your king, Morpheus.

It was a slow process. You doubted you would have figured it out if you hadn't watched those who dreamed of love, an entirely different intimacy than you were used to. You saw their dreams of lovers and crushes and with sly words from a certain golden-eyed being, you realised you acted much the same.

You always longed to be beside your king, to impress him and have him look at you with those proud eyes. You wanted him to tell you things only you knew. You wanted to know his mind and body in a way no one else did. You wanted him to love in a way no one else did.

Though, of course, you knew your feelings were foolish. Unrequited was the word.

You were just his creation, after all.

So you silently stood by as your king took other lovers, Nada and Calliope for example, and you stood by his side as all of those relationships ended in tragedy. You never said a word, hiding away your jealousy so deep that he could never sense it.

It went that way for centuries, millennia, aeons.

You thought your feelings would crumble, how terribly wrong you were.

They only grew and grew and your longed and longed. You just wanted him to look at you, stare into your soul and make his home there. You just wanted to be loved the way that mortals were loved.

Was that so much to ask?"

At some point, it had begun to get too much and you took to avoiding your master whenever you could, biting your tongue when you were forced to be beside him.

You just wanted affection.

The type mortals had when they danced under the stars and kissed on their wedding days. You wanted to be loved unconditionally, to have someone stand by your side just as you had done with Morpheus all this time.

And with some words from another one of Dream's proudest creations - The Corinthian- who also wanted to experience humanity. You decided you would.

You needed to.

You would break if you didn't.

It had worked for the first six months. You had met a charming human by the name of James Calton and you were taken by him in an instant. He was kind and thoughtful and pushed Morpheus to the very back of your mind.

It was wonderful, he treated you like a queen, kissed you tenderly, and always wrapped an arm around you when you laid in bed together, bare and peaceful.

You were in bliss.

And then it all came crashing down.

You had been skilful in your secrecy, telling your king you were needed by some other dreamfolk but never specifying who. You made sure to run errands and do chores to make it seem truthful, deepening the lie.

Then one fateful day, Morpheus had decided to change his schedule -something you always worked around - and went to library, where you said you were working. He couldn't find you, so naturally he asked Lucienne and she said you weren't there. He went to find you.

You had been seeing James off to work.

"I'll see you later, dear," You smiled sweetly, the ribbon he had tried in your hair whipping in the wind.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"James grinned softly, patting his lips.

You laughed, blissfully unaware as you pressed your lips to his, relishing in contentment. This is what love was.

"Goodbye, my love," He hummed gently, slipping into his car and driving off.

Then, you turned.

And your heart stopped.

Morpheus was standing a little ways behind you, face darker than you'd ever seen it. He was furious, enraged, it burned in his eyes, searing. He took a step closer and you knew your punishment was imminent.

You ran.

You knew it would only make him angrier but you were terrified, you didn't want to die. You didn't want to be banished into the darkness, or thrown into hell like Nada.

The shadows distorted.

You sprinted as fast as you could, heart thundering, chest heaving.

You darted around a corner but he was already waiting for you.

A cry was wretched from your lips.

A flurry of sand surrounded you like chains, tethering you to your excution. You knew he was taking you back to the Dreaming. You would never see James again.

It was worth it, you couldn't help but think, at least you knew what love felt like.

When the cutting sand cleared you were in the throne room. Morpheus stood before the steps leading to his throne, eyes glitning, demanding you got your knees and begged for mercy.

You clenched your hands as his pericing glare snatched onto your skin, burning. You tightened your jaw, you would not speak first, you refused.

You didn't need to.

Morpheus glared at you, voice harmfully sharp, "Prancing around with humans?"

You flinched at his condescending lily, waiting for him to continue.

He did, "Why?" His voice was brutal and you remained silent, "Answer me."

You could not resist his imposing command, "I..."

He glared, stepping closer, "You what?"

You shuddered, taking a deep breath as you forced yourself to meet his eyes, "I wanted to know what love was like."

His nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed into slits, darkening monsterously. He spoke slowly, danger rippling in his voice, "Love? You wanted to know what love was like? You are a creature of lust and lust only."

It was your turn to glare, "Why can't I be more!? Why can't I be allowed to love and want affection!? To wake up to someone every day!? To spend the rest of my life with someone who shippers to my soul!? Why am I not allowed to be something more than lust!?"

You were screaming now, breath ragged as you stepped forward, almost chest to chest with Dream, finger pointed, glower painted across your face.

You had already dug your grave, why not make it deeper?

"Come on, Dream King, answer me that," You hissed, barely realising how close you were.

Morpheus glowered down at you, words coming out as a snarl, "Remember your place."

"My place!?" You barked a rueful laugh, "My place has been beside you since the beginning! I was created before this realm! I have been with you through it all, not only have I doubted you or left your side, entirely loyal! And you want me to remember my place!?"

Tears were beginning to spring to your eyes.

Remember your place.

No, you refused to accept that, "I have stood next to you through all of your desicions and you will not allow me the joy of love!?"

"How dare you?" He snarled, "The joy of love? You know nothing of love, y/n."

You huffed, "Oh, really, Dream King?"

You draped to step closer, chest flush against his, faces mere inches apart. His breath fanned your face, and god's, how you had imagined being this close to him.

He did say anything, rage flaring furiously.

Grabbing his hand, you pressed it to your chest, where your heat beat erratically. You were far too gone now, might as well finally tell the truth.

You breathed, chest heaving harshly, "You created me. I am as connected to you as you are me. Can you feel it? The way I burn for every part of you."

His eyes flickered down to your chest, fixated on where his hand was pressed against it, feeling the intensity of your emotions. The longing, the desire, the passion and the love.

He clenched his jaw, wrenching his hand away as he forced out the word, "No."

Few could understand the Dream King's emotions and you were one of them.

"Liar," You spit.

And then you did the stupidest thing you had ever done.

You kissed Dream of the Endless.

You yanked him down by his coat, pressing your lips to his. Passionate was an understatement. His lips were soft, tasting faintly of berries and you found yourself wondering what the rest of him tasted like.

If this was your last moment, you were glad you finally knew what it was like to kiss him.

You expected him to push you away and banish you into the darkness.

Instead, he gripped your jaw, pressing your lips closer to his. His pace was bruising, the intensity of his kiss was burning. It was delicious and you welcomed the heat without hesitation.

You pressed closer still, groaning into the kiss when his other hand came to clutch at your neck. It kept you in the position he wanted as he slotted his leg between yours, something hard pressing against you.

A gasp.

You felt him smirk against your lips as he jutted his leg again, smug bastard.

His kiss made you dizzy with desire, intoxicated you. Dream consumed you in everything that he was, his bruising passion, his relentless onslaught of hypnotic kisses, his teasing brutality as he bit your lip.

Shit, why had you waited so long to do this.

Finally, he seemed to realise what he was doing and halted. His eyes were wide, pupils blown as gasped for are. His grip on your jaw and neck didn't loosen, in fact, they tightened deliciously.

Your chest heaved in time with his.

The words slipped from your tounge, "Are you sure you don't feel it, Morpheus?"

His eyes ignited and you knew his earlier rage just flickered back to life.

Never challenge Dream of the Endless.

But you refused to let him have the last word, even if meant furthering his anger.

So, you snapped forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away.

There was a sway in your hips as you turned, sauntering toward the imposing doors, lips bruised and blushing. Smugness filled your veins as the king made no move to stop you, still in shock.

You relished in it. Someone had rendered Dream of the Endless silent for the first time. You grinned in pride.

Once you reache the doors you allowe dyour head to turn to look over your shoulders.

A smirk teased at your lips, words sharp and taunting, "No one else will be able to compare with me, Morpheus. No one."

And then you slipped away, leaving Morpheus wanting and arouses.

No one wounded the Dream King's pride and got away with it.

You knew that all too well.

Merely having delayed your punishment, you relished in your last moments of freedom because you knew once Dream got back with The Corinthian he would end you with ease.

But he never came back.

He and Jessamy went silent. You could only faintly sense her but it was like she could not sense you at all, the ability to travel through realms somehow ripped away from her. There was nothing you could do, you didn't know where she was.

The Dream weakened without it's master, walls began to crumble and everyone began to wither, their creator no longer fueling them with his power. Soon it fell to Lucienne and you to command the Dreaming, as best you could.

Neither of you gave up, search parties were sent out. Saint's, you had even tried to find Death and ask for her help. Nothing worked. And ten years into it, you felt it.

Jessamy had died.

That was when most gave up, if one of Dream's most trusted companions was dead then he was far beyond any sort of reach.

Then, with no one to control them, the nightmares ran rampant.

Some had run to Delirum's realm, she did love dreams, after all. Others went to Asgard or the Fae realm. Lots fled to the Waking World and you went with them.

You were terrified they would be harmed, unknowing of humanity's violence and the other creatures that roamed. You helped them settle, protected them and taught them, you spent most of your time doing it.

Perhaps as a distraction, the Dreaming was falling to pieces and there was nothing you could do. The truth of that fact settled in the day you had gone to visit your dear friend and she ran into your arms, sniffling.

Her library was gone.

It remained that way for over a century. Then, one day, there was a title on a newspaper that made you freeze.

Sleeping beauty wakes up.

The King was back.

And most ran back to the Dreaming without hesitation. Yes, they had grown comfortable in the Waking World but they had to hide who they really were. The Dreaminf was home and the thought of home was wonderful.

One dream, Daphe, had said to come with them, that once Dream had heard of how you helped them and protected them he would spare you. You laughed and shook your head.

You were going to be punished for involving yourself with humans. You were going to stay here until the end, head held high and true to your desire for love.

You were going to die so why not go out with a bang?

Literally.

You spent almost every night this month at a different night club, taking different people home, sometimes multiple at once. You were being what Dream had made you to be, lustful. He could not blame you for following your sole purpose.

That led you to now.

The lights were bright against the dark shadows, the smell of sweat, alcohol and sex familiar to you as you danced in the crowd. You were having the time of your life, grinding against random men and women, kissing in dark corners and participating in body shots.

Then, you saw it.

A raven, watching you from the window, flying away when it knew you caught it.

Morpheus was close, then.

You sighed, and wormed your way out of the crowd, twisting around the bodies pressed together slowly. The cold night air struck your skin smoothly. You shivered slightly, perhaps it wasn't the best idea to wear a dress with a plunging v-line made from a flimsy fabric that barely covered the curve of your arse.

Too late now.

"Who are you, cause I know you're not Jessamy," Your voice was calm, light and uncaring, hiding the truth well.

The raven flew down, settling on the wall beside you awkwardly, not used to the wings, "I'm Matthew. How did you know I wasn't Jessamy."

You snorted, "Because she's dead," Then a fond smile slipped onto her face, "And because she wouldn't fly away when she'd been caught, she'd just stare you down, almost as intimidating as the king himself."

"I see," Matthew hummed, "You and she were close weren't you?"

Yes, you were.

Ignoring the burn in your eyes, you lifted your head to the twinkling sky, "He's coming for me, isn't he?"

He paused, "Yes..."

Your shoulders dropped, "Alright,"

And then you began to walk away.

"Hey! Where are you going!? If you run it'll just make it worse! The dreams don't want you to die! Not Merv or Gault or Lucienne or the brothers! They want you to live with them!" Matthew cried.

You laughed then, "It's not running when he already knows where I am. I just need to do something before I am punished."

The raven didn't respond but you felt his eyes on you as you called for a taxi, telling the driver the address to your luxurious flat.

When you finally got to said flat you almost flinched at the silence. You almost allowed yourself to break down into tears, everything you had done, learnt and lived for would be snatched away.

But you would not leave those you had come to leave wonder where you had gone.

Cathy would be the first, she always forgot to buy something at the shops and came knocking to see if you had it. Sam would be next, the cheeky bastard bored and asking you out for a good time. Amelia would be last. Oh, dear Amelia. She was your favourite, king and thoughtful but always ready to call you out on your bullshit.

Your hands shook as you wrote the letters someone would eventually find, pressing a kiss to each of them. You silently wished that they got everything and anything they wanted in life.

Then, your poured yourself a glass of wine and stared out the window, waiting.

And then, you felt it.

He was silent, pulling at your soul just like he always did as he appeared in your flat, presence as strong and dominating as you remembered it.

You swallowed harshly, this was it.

You forced yourself to turn.

The breath was knocked out of your throat at the sight of him.

Gods, you had forgotten just how glorious he looked.

Chizzled chin, alabaster skin that would look perfect covered in scratches and hickeys, silver eyes so deep you could see the universe in them. he was demanding as a king should be but you noticed a difference. He had changed somehow...well-hidden was the haunted look in his eyes, the tenseness of his body and the quiver of his soul.

Your heart lept in your chest, wanting nothing more than to comfort as you did so many aeons before. When no one could see him and he could allow himself to relax with one of his oldest creations. When he was willing to rest his head in the crook of your neck and reveal his true feelings.

You spoke first, more of a whisper, really, "Morpheus."

His name felt heavenly on your tongue.

"Y/n," He murmured in response, voice deep and raspy, it rumbled with thunder and the heaviness of stars.

The silence was imposing. You couldn't bare it.

"Are you...?" You couldn't get the question out, your lips wouldn't let you, "How is the Dreaming?"

How is the Dreaming? How is Lucienne? How are you?

You knew he caught onto the silent message in your words, he always did, "The Dreaming is well. As you know I was gone for a long time but I have returned, stronger than I have been in aeons."

Your heart hammered against your chest, "I suppose I won't be getting a quick punishment, then."

He stilled, staring at you.

Then his eyes shifted to the side.

You followed his gaze. He was staring at the pictures on the wall, honouring the two people you had loved most.

This was going to make him angry.

Oh well.

You sighed gently, "That woman was called Eliza, we had a good relationship in the eighties before she realised I didn't age. The man was called Charles, I nearly married him. but..."

"But what?" He questioned sharply.

"But he wasn't you," You told him simply.

You were not ashamed, you would never be.

You loved Dream of the Endless.

But many had loved Morpheus and none had ever survived the flame of his passion or the fires that came with wounding his heart.

He did not respond, as prideful as ever. Not even bothering to acknowledge your confession or what happened the last time you were together.

Your lips prickled at the thought, they missed his lips on theirs.

You scoffed, "Why are you asking me questions? Is this some kind of scare tactic, to get me scared before you punish me?" You hissed, "Just fucking kill me."

His eyes darkened at the thought.

This was it.

Then he said something that shocked you to your very core.

"You are frightened of me," His words confused you.

Then a hollow laugh escaped your lips, "Of course I am! I know what happens to those who defy you. I know the fate that awaits me!"

"No. You do not," He didn't yell but it felt like he did.

You froze. At first, you thought your min was consoling you before you end or that it had already come. But it hadn't and you weren't dead.

Morpheus stared at you from the other side of the room, goldy features glimmering in the moonlight as he studied you intently. A shiver ran down your spine at his predatory gaze, arousal whispering in the back of your mind.

Gods, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him until his mark was all that was left on your lips.

"You're not going to kill me?" You gasped, carefully.

He nodded, "No. I will not do anything to you."

An elated laugh escaped your mouth, almost hysterical. Soul reeling in surprise. You sipped the rest of your wine, a smirk on your face as you sashayed forward, "When I am going to celebrate by having sex with the biggest orgy I can find."

You passed Dream.

His hand latched onto your wrist, firm as he forced you to still.

His words almost came out as a growl, "No."

"Here we go," You muttered, you were definitely treading down the wrong path but Dream had made you impulsive and who were you if not his greatest creation?

He stared down at you, gaze so heated you felt it in your chest, "I will not have you pleasuring mortals."

You glowered, "I'm being lustful. One second you're angry at me for wanting something more and the next your angry at me for doing what I was made to."

Morpheus' grip on your wrist loosened, only to tighten again as he spoke, "I am not angry at you. But I will not have mortals indulging themselves in all that is you."

"Why? Because I am nothing but a dream?" You snapped.

His gaze was piercing, words even more so, "Because you are my dream and mine alone.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. All words dying on your tongue.

"We will return to the Dreaming, "He told you not acknowledging his words.

You narrowed your eyes and wretched your arm from his grasp furiously, "No."

"No?" He spat.

Over a century had gone by and he was still surprised by how insolent you were. And by how strongly he reacted when you grew closer to him, the fabric of your dress seeming so easily tearable.

"No," You spoke firmly, "You can't just say that and brush it off. I won't let you."

Dream was quick to make your suspicion seem foolish as he scoffed lightly, forcing an offended expression onto his face. He glowered down at you, "Dreams should not indulge themselves with mortals. Your implication is wrong. You're wrong."

You huffed, daring to take a step closer, feeling the heat of his body welcoming you, "Really? Because I think..." You smiled slyly, feline eyes glinting, "You want to repeat what happened in the throne room. You want to grab my chin, kiss me so hard you leave bruises as you put your leg between mine, pressing closer and closer..."

You knew you were right. Not even the Dream Lord himself was immune to your powers. You felt it rippling off of him, waves of desire and want flowing over you deliciously. You wanted more.

He remained silent, glaring down at you as his nostrils flared, dark eyes shimmering dangerously. His jaw was clenched and his body tense, holding himself back.

He was Dream of the Endless, he would not be bested by one of his creations.

You grinned slyly, "You do..."

He glowered, "I am your king..."

"And a king deserves to be worshipped, does he not?"

You dropped to your knees.

Morpheus' chest heaved as he watched you, making no move to stop you, daring you, challenging you.

Well, the challenge was accepted.

Slowly, you trailed your hands up his legs, sliding them toward the buckle of his belt, never moving your eyes from his own. You paused for a moment, letting him take in the sight of you, kneeling before him, hands grasping his belt.

You were letting him decide if he wanted this.

He made no move to stop you.

You smirked.

Your hands made quick work of his belt, skilful as they moved swiftly. You relished in the clink of the metal clasp as it fell to the floor beside you, a sharp noise in the tense silence. Easily, you pulled down his slacks, a sultry look glimmering in your eyes.

He shivered against the cold of your nails as you gently scratched up his bare legs, teasing around the band of his underwear, tight around his quickly hardening dick.

You saw the look in his eyes, silently demanding you stop your teasing.

You obliged without hesitation.

Hooking your fingers around the band of his underwear you pulled it down, finally daring to break your gaze.

A sound you had no idea you could make slipped from your mouth, barely above a whisper as your eyes fixated on his dick. It was lengthy and thick, as dominating as the rest of him was.

You shivered in delight.

Slowly, you lifted your hand and glided it across his cock, memorised. A sound escaped Morpheus' lips and a fire ignited in your chest, you wanted to draw every sound he could possibly make out of him.

His eyes were dark, intense with want when you looked at him, containing to run your hand along his erection. You delighted in how his muscles spasmed, his entire body racing to your slightest touch.

If he reacted this way to your hand, how would he react to your mouth?

You needed to find out.

You refused to break eye contact as you opened your mouth slowly, lips parting delicately. You quickly guided his cock to your mouth, lips fitting around the tip smoothly.

Morpheus' hand gripped the marble counter, fixated on the way your lips wrapped so perfectly around him.

So very perfect.

You took more of him. Slowly swiping your tongue along the base of his length. He shivered against you, pressing further into you. You smirked, moving so that all of him was in your mouth. A quiet groan escaped his lips, pretty and pink.

You wanted more sounds, louder sounds.

You bobbed your head once, twice, before you only had the tip of him in your mouth, tongue swirling against it. He stared at you, wide-eyed, drunken on pleasure, waiting for you to move again.

But you wouldn't, you wanted to draw everything out of him.

He groaned softly, knowing so well what you wanted.

"More," He grunted, "Give me more, y/n."

You lifted away only to say, "Yes, my king."

And then you fit him into your mouth in one go.

Morpheus hissed.

Your pace was quick, tantalizing as your tongue ran along every sensitive part it could. You relished in the darkness in his eyes as he watched you take him so very well. The shakiness in his breath delighted you. The heave in his chest excited you.

Dream of the Endless was falling apart because of you and you alone.

One of his hands was gripping the counter, the other tense, unsure of where to go. Quickly, you grabbed it and guided it to your hair, staring up at Morpheus with a siren's eyes. And you were a siren, drawing him in, intoxicating him like you had been doing for aeons.

He let his hand rest there for a moment. Then you licked the underside of his dick and his hand tightened into a fist, yanking at your hair as he groaned, becoming breathless so very easily.

You moaned at the stinging sensation.

Morpheus gasped, whined, and bucked into your mouth.

His dark eyes shimmered, "Again."

You moaned around him again, and he bucked into you again.

You could see it, Morpheus was chasing his high, pleasure streaming strongly through his veins, desperation clawing at him for release. he was losing himself to pleasure, consumed by you.

You took your head away.

Morpheus' chest heaved, slight confusion breaking through the haze of desire. He did not dare say a word, waiting for you.

You smiled prettily.

"Do you want it?" You hummed, "My king."

A raspy groan escaped his throat, and his hand tightened its grip on your hair, hypnotized by all that was you.

Yes, the answer was.

He wanted it all.

He wanted you to pleasure him then he wanted to make you fall apart over and over again until you knew nothing but his name. Until it was the only thing you could say. Until your body only knew his touch.

He wanted your legs around him, whines falling free from your pretty mouth as he thrust into you, arms desperately clinging to his shoulders, gasping his name. Morpheus.

Fuck, he wanted that.

His voice was deep, intoxicating, as he yanked your hair, eyes dark, "I am your king and you will please me."

You shivered, he was ordering you.

"Yes sir," You were a dutiful subject and would give anything he so desired.

A sound akin to a growl tore from Morpheus' throat instantly. he bucked his hips, using you just how he wanted to, chasing his release. And, fuck, was he chasing it. He grew louder and louder, moans echoing in the quiet, making your core burn for him.

You bobbed your head fervently, desperate for your king to spill into your mouth, to still in his euphoria, sweat coating his skin. Gods, you wanted it.

"Yesyesyes..." He panted, midnight hair clinging to his forehead.

He was so close.

You groaned against him, eyes unable or willing to break contact.

The hand that had been gripping the counter come to your cheek, brushing against your brow as Morpheus gasped, "Keep going, my dream. Make your king cum. Make your king cum."

Oh, fuck.

His sharp breaths filled the air, almost overpowering the sound of your pretty lips sucking his cock.

Suddenly, he became breathless, the loudest groan you had ever heard flying from his lips.

And he was cumming. Hard. Harder than he ever had before.

his grip on your hair kept you from moving, not that you wanted to. You wanted every last drop, every part of him. Morpheus' head was thrown back, lips parted in a silent scream, eyes screwed closed.

Gently, your hands ran up and down his legs, slowly drawing him from his high.

His chest heaved again and slowly he looked down at you, eyes glimmering like blown stars. His grip on your hair loosened, his other hand tenderly stroking your temple. You leaned into it openly, you would always accept affection from him.

Slowly, you pulled away, letting his length fall from your mouth with a delicious pop, Dream following your every move. You refused to break eye contact as you swallowed.

His eyes widened, the hand tracing your face gliding toward your lips, silently demanding that you open them. You did so. A quiet gasp fell from his divine mouth, you had swallowed it all. His eyes shimmered.

"Did I please you, my king?" You questioned both teasingly and not.

And suddenly, Morpheus was yanking you up, not allowing you time to blink as were pressed against the cold, marble counter.

You barely had a chance to gasp before his lips were on yours.

You met him with equal desperation. Aeons of pining and a century apart mixing together. You had missed one another dearly, more so than either of you realised before now.

He bit your lip teasingly, tongue battling with yours for dominance that you easily gave up. It was easy to become undone for the King of Dreams and you'd do it whenever he wanted you to.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as you jumped onto the counter, pulling him flush against you as you continued to kiss his blushing lips, memorising his taste. Berries, just like the throne room.

You moaned into his mouth, one hand tangling itself in his soft hair and the other desperately gripping his shoulder, his very bare shoulder. You forced yourself to break the kiss for a mere moment and looked him up and down, all of his clothes were gone.

You felt him smirk against you.

You relished in it, whispering in his ear, "Now that's a trick I like. Clothes can be such a nuisance."

A raspy chuckle came from him, bright eyes dark, "Not in this case."

And then you felt his hands on your thighs, "Would you rather my fingers or my tongue?"

"Fuck..." You murmured, shivering, "I want both."

"Then you shall have both," He hummed and with startling ease, your underwear was ripped off and it went straight to your core, pulsing.

Teasingly, his fingers ran across your thighs, drawing closer and closer to the place you wanted him to touch you most. You arched into him, desperate.

A sly grin made its way onto his lips as he darted toward your neck, latching on with a fierce kiss. He'd litter your neck in marks, and the whole of creation would know you were his.

He did not allow a word to escape your lips, one of his fingers twirling around your clit and the other slipping into your soaked heat with ease.

"Morpheus!" You cried with a whine, bucking into his hand.

You felt him smirk against your skin and were suddenly reminded of your earlier thought. His moonlight skin would look even more delicious when it was covered in your marks.

You were quick to pepper kisses to his jaw than his neck and when you came to his ear you got a very interesting reaction indeed.

He tensed, a gasp escaping his lips.

You didn't hesitate to bite it, kissing it teasingly.

Morpheus retaliated. Another finger drove into you, curling and twisting so perfectly you could already feel your high call on the horizon.

And then, he pressed against that spot of nerves.

You moaned, gripping his hair tighter as your chest pressed flush against his, "There."

He lifted his head from your neck, eyes teasing as he pressed against that spot once more, watching in fascination as you whined, "There?"

He pressed against it again.

You cried out, "Yes! Right fucking there!" Your forehead fell against his, "You're going to make me cum."

Suddenly, he stopped. You gasped in upset.

He gazed at you, wonder-struck, he had created you and yet all of these expressions were new to him. He wanted to see all of the expressions you could make.

He slowly pulled his fingers away and up to his mouth, sucking your juices off of them. You watched, hypnotized. He groaned quietly at the taste of you on his tongue, desperate to have more.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

And he dropped to his knees.

"Morpheus!" You gasped in surprise.

Dream of the Endless never kneeled for anyone.

Your hand came to grip his milky-white arm. It was wrong for a being such as him to kneel before one of his creations, a mere fragment of his power.

His eyes shimmered, taking a softer shine as he felt your emotions course through him.

Gently, he lifted your hand, staring up at you intently, "You are far more than my creation, y/n. Far more," His voice dropped, "Now, please don't stop me again."

You shivered, hands coming to grip the counter.

Morpheus smirked, "So good for me."

Then, he hiked your legs over his slender shoulders. And, fuck, his face was framed so perfectly in between them. Dark hair was swept across his forehead, dark eyes glittering brighter than the universe, and dark desire painted his lips.

The king didn't hesitate.

His tongue licked a strip along your folds and you gasped. Bloody hell. His mouth came to tease around your clit, sucking and slurping, eliciting sounds unknown to you from your lips. Your legs closed tighter around his head, forcing his face closer to your heat.

You felt him smirk against you and you shivered. Eyes seared in amusement. Oh, how he loved the way you fell apart for him.

Suddenly, he delved in.

Skillful was his tongue as it caressed you, licking every sensitive spot it could as your taste spilt down his chin. He could care less. He relished in it. To him, you were greater than anything else, he would never tire of you, he would want you for all eternity.

He could imagine it now, his tongue making you writhe on his thrown as he pleasured you. His tongue igniting something in you as you struggled to keep quiet in the halls. His tongue making you cry out as you cum over and over again on his bed.

Those thoughts fueled him. His tongue moved faster, the slurping noise so sinful growing deliciously louder.

You yelped in delight rutting against his face.

He rose a brow and his arm came up to hold your hips down, forcing you still for him. You whined at his pace, you had never felt euphoria as strong as this.

Morpheus was a god, greater than a god and he was yours.

You could feel your release coming.

"You're so good," You just managed to gasp, fixated on him, "So, so good. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum just for you, my king."

His eyes glinted.

He continued fervently. Whines spilt from your mouth like prayer as you grew further and further consumed by Morpheus. Fuck, the man knew how to use his tongue.

Your chest heaved, hands struggling to grip the counter as your body flooded with pleasure.

You were so close. So fucking close.

And then you were cumming.

The air was knocked out of you as your body shook with the strongest orgasm you had ever had. A broken whine fell from your lips as you fell apart against Morpheus, only aware of the delicious warmth of his body and the tantalizing chill of the counter.

The king, like a starving man, lapped up every drop of your release, almost cumming himself because of how divine you tasted on his tongue.

Softly, his hand came to clutch yours as he pulled you down from your high. Slowly, his tongue swirled around your heat, drawing you back into reality.

Through hooded eyes and a bleary mind, you gripped Morpheus' hand tighter, chest heaving as you stared down at him. His regal cheekbones glittered with the light of the moon, his eyes glimmered like galaxies, and his lips formed into a proud smirk as he admired his work.

A harsh kiss was pressed to your inner thigh, his teeth biting into your skin, marking you. You whined and a soft, caring kiss followed after.

"Come here...please..."You gasped breathlessly.

Morpheus followed your request without hesitation.

You sighed and your arms carefully came to wrap around his slender shoulders. He moved closer, the ridge of his nose brushing yours, gliding along your cheek as he swept some hair out of your face.

"I missed you," You whispered, almost hesitantly.

Morpheus' eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes like strands of the night sky as he murmured, "And I missed you," His forehead pressed against yours, "Come to the Dreaming with me."

It was a request, you realised. He was not ordering you.

"I will," You spoke softly.

Then you grinned mischievously, pressing closer to him.

Your lips found the shell of his ear, voice a tantalizing whisper, "Is that where you will have me?"

He shivered against you. Bright eyes darkening once more with lust, "I will have you everywhere. On my throne. Against the halls. In my chambers. But at this moment I cannot wait. I will have you here, now."

You giggled, "My bedroom's down the hall."

Morpheus smirked, hands coming down to tap your thighs, silently commanding you. You jumped up. His firm hands gripped your legs, pressing you as close to him as possible, groaning quietly in your ear.

And suddenly, it was impossible to be apart from him.

Your lips were acting fervently, pressing desperate kisses to his as he skilfully walked the two of you to your bed where he would ravish you entirely. Your lips attack his neck, playfully biting his ear as you sucked hickeys into his creamy white skin, the redness a beautiful contrast.

You were so consumed by kissing him and he, you, that neither of you realised you had made it to your bed. You fell onto it, Morpheus easily hovering over you with wonderous, intense eyes.

He looked godly. He looked perfect. He looked like your dream.

Your hand brushed his cheek, "You're beautiful."

His hand caught yours and he pressed the softest of kisses to your palm, "And you're enamouring."

Your heart fluttered. Your hands grasped his shoulders, slowly drifting along the curve of his collar-bones and then to the hardness of his chest.

He allowed you to feel him, slowly lowering himself to whisper, "I want your dress off, now."

"So demanding," You teased.

"I am a king," He rose a brow in response, hands easily gripping the hem of your dress and tugging it off your perfect body. As soon as your dream was thrown into a random corner, Dream's eyes darkened as he studied your body, entirely bare.

You smiled at his expression smugly, "You created all of this, Morpheus. Moulded me, shaped me, it's all yours."

"Yes, it is," He murmured, lips stealing a kiss from you, "And I will take it."

A fire burned in your stomach, igniting in your core as you stroked his length, hard once again. You lifted your head, lips brushing against his, "Then do it."

Morpheus' eyes darkened and with a speed only he possessed, your legs were hooked around his waist and he was hovering over you once more, caging you in his arms.

You shivered in delight.

He groaned lightly as one of his hands stroked his cock, easily lining it up with your burning heat, teasing you. You whined as his length ran across your folds, twirling around your clit, not yet filling you.

"Don't tease..." You gasped, desperate.

He smiled, amused, "Very well."

And the tip of his dick pressed into you.

You flung your head back, and a silent sound escaped your lips as your chest heaved. Fuck, if that's how his tip felt you couldn't wait to know what the rest of him felt like.

Your hands gripped the sheets, tight enough to tear them.

"Look at you," Morpheus' voice rumbled like lightning, "I've barely entered you and you're already a mess."

"Only for you," You mused, "Unless you would like me to tell you about my other--"

A whorish moan flood from your lips.

Your back arched.

Morpheus was inside. All of him.

A swear fell from his lips, an ancient language you know only faintly, and fuck, did it sound good. It was almost as good as how full you felt, how he stretched you so deliciously, how you fit him so fucking perfectly.

Morpheus' chest heaved as he reeled from the pleasure of having you squeeze around him, consuming him, taking him in a way no one else ever could.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails gripping his skin hard.

He shivered, fuck, he enjoyed that.

"Fuck me," Gasped, breathless, "Fuck me, Morpheus."

The god of a man chuckled above you, "Such a demanding little thing."

He didn't let you respond, bucking into you slowly, intensely.

You moaned, loudly.

"Now, now. You wouldn't want to disturb your neighbours, would you, my dream?" He ground against you, eyes glinting mischievously.

Your nails scratched up his back, eliciting a sound from him as you spoke, "I don't give two shits if they hear us, I just want you to fuck me."

"And I will," His voice was husky, deep with lust, "Until you know nothing but my name."

You didn't get a chance to respond to that. Dream's hips rutted deeply against yours, fucking into you perfectly. His thrusts were powerful, waves of pleasure shooting across you as he set his pace.

And fuck, it was brutal.

his body snapped against yours. Your headboard banged against the wall. You couldn't think of anything but him. He was relentless, fucking you so deeply the sound of slapping skin almost overpowered your moans.

You had never moaned so loud, body powerless against his body and will. You'd do whatever he wanted. Anything he wanted.

Morpheus' strong hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises and you welcomed his mark on you. Your nails scraped along his back. Tangled themselves in his hair as you whined and moaned.

"No other being can make you feel the I way do," He hissed in your ear, a king, as he hammered into you, "No other being will ever be able to have you the way I do. No one."

You nodded feverishly as his body rocked against yours, "No one. Only you. Only fucking you."

"That's right, my dream. My y/n," Morpheus moaned, gripping your legs tighter, pulling you closer, fucking you deeper.

You wanted to speak but words could not escape your mouth. Whines fell from your lips instead, loud and free as you arched your back.

He was too good. Dream was a passionate lover and you fucking loved it.

"Possessive," You just managed to gasp.

"Entirely," He smirked breathlessly.

You could feel your high storming toward you, faster than any orgasm before and you chased it. You bucked against him, somehow managing to match his impossibly animalistic pace as he fucked into roughly.

Your hands desperately clutched his shoulders.

He lowered his body, pressing it flush against yours as he groaned against your skin, "Are you going to cum, my dream? Are you going to cum with your king? Are you going to cum with me?"

Oh, fuck yes.

You frantically nodded your head, "Inside."

The thought of him leaving you now almost made you want to cry. You wanted him inside of you, wanted him to still against you as his cock twitched and he cummed.

Morpheus groaned, "As you wish."

You whined as loud as possible, body wrapped tightly around him as he fucked you. He filled you so deliciously, so perfectly. No one else could ever compare. You were almost screaming in pleasure now, consumed by your king.

You were on the verge, so very close.

"Morpheus," You whimpered.

Morpheus' head burrowed into the crook of your neck, lips flush against your skin as he panted a mantra, "Mine."

Your head pressed against his neck in response, lips brushing over the shell of his ear, "Yours. All fucking yours. Just like your mine."

He nodded erratically, barely able to collect a thought, drunken on the pleasure you gave him. So strong and unlike anything he had ever felt before, he was addicted.

His breaths were shallow, "Yours. All yours."

His hips canted against yours, both of you desperately chasing the releases that were riding toward you. He fucked you ferally, pace bruising and grips even more so, you loved it.

So close.

You pressed feverish kisses to his skin, gasping breathless breaths.

So, so close.

His face buried into your neck, moan wrenching from his lips.

And you shattered.

Your mouth opened into a scream of his name, "Morpheus!"

Your orgasm ripped through you. Stronger than anything before. Better than anything before. Morpheus' cum filled you as he nested deep within, groan filling the air.

You were floating, disconnected from reality, only aware of Morpheus and his touch.

Your chest heaved. Eyes wide, blurry. Mind dizzy with ecstasy. The delirium of desire easily consumes you.

Morpheus' voice rang deeply in your ear, "I have you, my dream. I have you, y/n."

And he did have you, body flush against yours, one hand still gripping your hip as the other reached forward, pulling your hair out of your face as he tenderly placed his forehead against yours.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, meeting his intense ones. They shone like creation, burned with passion and seared with something deeper. Something much deeper.

Your breath hitched.

The only sounds between you were your heavy breaths.

Morpheus pressed his forehead further against yours, nose and lips brushing against yours as he stared at you deeply.

His words were soft, slow, almost hesitant.

"I love you, y/n."

Your heart warmed, an uncontrollable smile spreading across your face.

You giggled lightly, "And it only took you almost all of existence to say it."

His pout was adorable.

Your hand came to cup his cheek, lips almost flush against his, "And I love you, Morpheus."

He pressed his lips to yours fervently, two souls separated no longer, finding their homes within each other, just like the fates decided it would be long ago. And Destiny, of course.

For the first time in a long time, Morpheus, the King of Dreams, Dream of the Endless was completely and utterly awake.

And he never wanted to be away from your side again.

Tags:

@kisses4kitty @kittycatcait219 @we-love-our-bandz

[writethrough]

The Sandman Collection

The Collections

I do not permit anyone to copy, repost, and/or share my work anywhere, translated or otherwise. However, please feel free to like, comment, and reblog!

All rights to the media and characters below belong to the original creators and writers.

ONE SHOTS

Hiding In Plain Sight (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ Helping Morpheus and the Dreaming has been the highlight of your night since you met him. When he notices your presence missing, the Dream King discovers that your eagerness conceals something he should've known.

A Homemade Remedy (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ After days of dealing with your sickness by yourself, you give in and call your boyfriend, hoping he'll come.

How to Mistakenly Summon An Ancient Being & Keep Him (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ You're an insomniac and have exhausted all other avenues to help you sleep except one. What happens when that one brings you the King of Dreams?

I Am Yours, Are You Mine (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ Morpheus' jealousy rises when he sees you with another man.

Kitty Comforts (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ You've had a bad day, and the thought of being around another body doesn't sit right with you. Morpheus comforts you in a way only he can.

Leather & Liner (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ You put eyeliner and Morpheus, and maybe an extra little embellishment.

Mid-Afternoon Dream (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ Morpheus enjoys his moment of peace with you.

The Physicality of Sitcoms (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ You watch a sitcom with Morpheus and discover something interesting.

Softly (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ You're busy with a late night, and Morpheus coaxes you to bed.

To Dream of Magic (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ On one fateful day, you unknowingly heal Dream of the Endless' raven. He must thank you for your kindness.

What A Luxury It Is to Have You (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ When you meet Morpheus, it doesn't take long for you to realize your dreams are real, and that means your nightmares are, too. They can hurt you if they catch you. The only way to make sure that never happens is to not fall asleep. Morpheus reassures you.

With Power Comes Misunderstandings (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ When Morpheus is late for your date, the only explanation is that someone's tried to harm him because of you—Supergirl's and Lena Luthor's daughter. After all, why else would they want your completely normal, powerless boyfriend?

MULTI-PART

The Accident That Led Me to You (Part I / Part II) (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ A car accident gives you the ability to see Death whenever she's around. Months later, you see Morpheus for the first time. He notices you right away.

The Diviner (Morpheus x Prophetess!Reader)

BONUS CONTENT

Valentine's Day Date

[just-some-random-blogger]

Rain Drops

Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: "Can you please... can we please just... can we be alone together?" I sigh, "can you just.... be while I be?"

Word Count: >900

Warnings: graphic mentions/depictions of loneliness/sadness/suicidal ideation, gender neutral!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, typos, etc.

A/N: have i revived my writing powers? I have no idea i think im just sad Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

"Are you alright?"

I lift up my eyes from the vegetables I was chopping.

I truth, I perhaps should have been shocked to hear his voice, to see his darkly dressed figure before me. After all, I was alone two seconds ago and now I wasn't. Yet I'm not shocked. I'm not anything. I'm numb. I ask, "why are you in my house?"

Dream of the Endless nary needs to explain himself. He makes himself known and appears when he means to. In fact, I looked forward to his appearances. I loved it when he was around. But I was numb, so much so, I gazed upon the knife in my hand and the lettuce before me, not needing a response.

I continue chopping.

I feel him step forward. I feel him near me. I feel his palm on my arm. I feel him. He mutters, "I would like to be near you."

I turn him. I offer a smile, "then be near me, my love."

Dream's eyes follow my line of sight as I begin to chop tomatoes.

He watches as I take the red thing into my hand and slice them into cubes. He watches as I do this to two more. He watches as I think about chopping another tomato. He watches as I transfer the dripping slices into a bowl. He watches as I think about how the knife could swiftly puncture my stomach. He watches as I gaze upon the reflection on the metal in my hand. His eye twitches as I think about how badly it would hurt to strike myself.

"Please," Dream mutters.

I turn from the tomatoes to him.

"I would like an answer."

My brows furrow, "an answer to what?"

"My question."

"What was your qu-"

"Are you alright?"

My lips press into a thin line. It thins, and thins, until my face looks pained. The sight of Dream's glassy eyes and softly parted lips make dread crawl up my spine.

I don't know why, but I find myself smiling. I smile at him, my own eyes now growing glassy with tears. I grin then I whisper, "probably not."

Dream takes my hand. He takes one hand then the other. My arms begin to shake. Only then do I realize after a tender and urging touch and after dropping it, that I still had the knife in my clutch. It makes a sound as it collides with the chopping board. My breathing begins to strain when he pulls me into him.

When he wraps his arms around me, I feel like at the edge of a cliff. My sender to sleep embraces me against the comforting expanse of his form yet I am in unrest. His hands find my back and soothe the area with his palms, yet my own palms are hanging awkwardly behind his back, not wanting to touch him because of the remnants of tomato juice on my fingers.

It is he that decides for me that it does not matter if I wipe my hands on his coat. He presses my hands onto him and pulls me in even tighter.

It was as if my being awaited this permission, because then I weak against him. I crumble into his chest, releasing a tension I did not know I held, allowing myself to crumble in a way that felt right.

It wasn't right. It didn't feel right. How could it? How could crumbling be right? It felt horrible. It felt suffocating.

I felt like I couldn't breathe, and yet I wanted him to hold me closer.

Dream knew this. Dream heard this for he knew my dreams; it was my dream to fall into his heart. And so he did. He tightened his arms around me more than he already had, and secured me as close as he could without choking me, without hurting me.

Part of me I wished he would. I wish he would. I wish he would hurt me, crack me against him and be done with it.

Done.

I wish it could be done.

I wish it could just go away.

"You would not harm me," he speaks, "so do not harm yourself."

My brows furrow at his words.

"I would be torn into nothingness if anything were to happen you."

Oh, fuck.

"I cannot bear the thought of your turmoil."

Guilt rises up my throat. It rips at the back of my mouth. My lips quiver, "I'm... I'm sorry."

"No. You misunderstand," he rubs his cheek against me, "I speak this to you so you'll realize that the tears you'd shed for me if I was hurt would be the same tears I'd shed if you were. I could not care less of me. The pain I bear is the pain I must. And yet others care for my pain, others care for me, and so I do. I do for my people, I do for the Dreaming, I do for you."

The wind in my lungs catch in airways. I pull away from him to gaze upon his face. There is a bitterness that spreads on my tongue at the looks of him, and yet a warmth blossoms in my body when he caresses my cheek.

He leans his forehead onto mine and mutters, "I will listen. I will act. You need only say the word. I would do all I can for you."

I cannot help the sound that leaves me. I fall back into his chest again, releasing my woes there.

"Can you please... can we please just... can we be alone together?" I sigh, "can you just.... be while I be?"

I feel him nod.

I feel him kiss me.

I feel him retort, "then we shall be."

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

A bit of dream and time magic become tangled on accident and result in robin!Jason sharing a dreamscape with one of the batfam post Ethiopia.

They can’t talk to or hear each other. They can only see each other.

It takes a while for the future Bat in question to figure out this is not just a nice dream where they get to spend time with a happy, carefree, safe Jason. And now it’s a race against time to find a way to convince him not to go to Ethiopia without using words. :)

[writethrough]

Ok, now this!

What do ya’ll wanna know?

WIP (Work In Progress) It Good

Reblog and let your followers ask!

🗣️Talk about your favourite WIP

❌What WIP do you find the most challenging? Why?

📄What’s a WIP you never finished that you would like to go back and revisit?

🤬Is there a WIP that you hate?

❔Choose a random WIP and talk about it.

📝Share a snippet of an unposted WIP, with or without context.

🔍Give a clue (a picture, emoji, a word, etc) and let your followers guess what a WIP is about.

💗Is there a scene you can’t wait to write for a WIP?

👻Is there a scene that you find intimidating that you have yet to write?

🤔Do you have an WIPs where you wish you had chosen a different fandom/character?

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

My little surpise

I loved the Sandman series although shamefully i haven't been seriously reading every single one, I love Tom Sturridge like i'm stupid when he talks or does anything at this point.

So when those two collided. My soul was in heaven.

So for anyone needing a fluff fic from moi about him, I gotchu. Here's Walks along the Dreaming it's completely fluff when i get a free day imma write a smutt version if you have any prompts, kinks, settings idgaf legit anything. You can

A. Comment it below I swear I'll see it

B. Slide into my dms

C. My asks are always open, you can also ask anonymously

Anyway, I'm just gonna drop this here aswell for my audio gals, if you look around you'll find everyone else but this is my absolute favourite because of the voice behind it.

Anyway 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾lot of love <3333 and have a good day, you deserve it.

[doitforstamets]

Raven Hob

[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

[writethrough]

If you do this to any of my fics, I would love you forever.😍😍

[seiya-starsniper]

I wish you would write a fic where...

…Hob is a little insecure about his body in comparison to Dream. Dream is wondering why his love only wants to have sex in the dark…

I need some hurt/comfort 🥹

Oh man friend, I started writing this thinking it wouldn't be super long and then 9.7k words later...😅

Still gonna post the whole thing on tumblr since this IS a tumblr prompt, but it's probably best read on AO3 for length reasons lmao. I hope you enjoy this angst train!

AO3 Link: Cruel Summer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - America, Developing Relationship, Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, body image issues

Also tagging @dreamlingbingo as I'm using this fill for my free space!

-----------------

The first time it happens, Dream doesn't think too much about it. There's not a lot of thinking going on period, not really. Dream's only focused on the touch and taste and feel of Hob Gadling’s body against his as they drunkenly make out against the latter’s front door.

They’d been out tonight celebrating with their friends, all of them having finally achieved some hard earned life goal. Matthew and Jessamy were engaged, and planning a marriage out on Cape Cod the following summer, Lucienne had gotten promoted as an archivist at Harvard, Mervyn had finally launched his own cybersecurity firm, and Dream had just signed a publishing deal for the novel he’d been working on for the past two years. His editing team was even based out of Boston, even if their main headquarters was in New York, which made Dream’s life much easier. 

Hob…well. Hob’s celebration was more muted than the rest. He’d just landed a job at Harvard as well, working as a professor, so he and Lucienne were now technically coworkers. And while it was a fantastic opportunity with decent pay, and mostly free summers, it had come at the cost of his relationship with Eleanor, his longtime girlfriend. 

Eleanor had accepted a job across the country working as a marketing lead for a lifestyle clothing brand based out of Seattle. She’d wanted the position more than anything, but Hob hadn’t wanted to move, so they broke up. Hob insists it was all amicable, and that he’d miss everyone too much if he’d actually left, but they all knew Hob had been thinking about proposing.

Dream knows all this, and yet, when it had just been the two of the left at the bar and Hob had started openly flirting with him alone, instead of just playfully flirting with every single one of their friends, Dream had decided, “why not”, and matched the other man’s energy until they were suddenly making out just outside the bar while they waited for the Uber Hob called for them. It’s still the beginning of summer and not terribly hot outside, but Dream’s still grateful for the cool AC of the car that eventually comes to get them to drive the short distance back to Hob’s apartment.

When Hob finally unlocks the door and they practically fall into the front hall, Dream messily kicks off his shoes and works his way towards undoing Hob’s belt in between kisses. Hob wrangles them down the hall and towards his bedroom and Dream thinks vaguely about turning on the lights when they finally cross the threshold. But then Hob pushes him down into the mattress and Dream stops thinking about anything at all. 

-----------------

The second time that it happens, a little over a month later, Dream is helping Hob clean up his apartment after their monthly movie night with their friends. They had all decided on rewatching Jurassic Park after Mervyn and Lucienne had gotten into a debate on whether or not dinosaurs looked stupid with or without feathers. But it had taken the group some time for them to even start the movie, since they had mostly gotten wrapped up with different bits of work and life gossip. It was rare that they were all able to get together like this, so the movie was a secondary concern for them.

During the movie, however, Matthew and Jessamy’s wedding planner called them about something that needed their attention immediately, and though they said it was fine to keep the movie running, they’d paused it anyways. Not even ten minutes after they wrapped up their call, Mervyn had to take a work call from a client suffering from some server issues. 

Needless to say, it was nearly midnight by the time they finished the movie, and since only Dream and Hob had nothing to do the next morning, Dream had offered to stay late to help clean up and then crash on Hob’s couch for the night.

That is, at least, the story they tell their friends. The dishes and the food end up abandoned as Hob pushes Dream into the couch cushions and palms his cock through his black jeans. Dream moans and ruts beneath the other man, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling Hob in for a desperate, filthy kiss. They make out like teenagers for what seems like hours, the taste of buttery popcorn and overly sweet margarita mix mingled in every kiss. Dream isn’t nearly as drunk as he was that first night, but he’s got a pleasant buzz going, which really only adds to the whole illicit nature of what they’re doing. Neither of them had mentioned the first time they’d fucked to any of their friends, they’d barely talked about just between the two of them, really. 

Dream had figured maybe they could talk about it tonight after everyone had gone home but well. He’d gotten distracted with Hob’s mouth.

When they finally move from the couch to the bedroom, Dream turns the lights on, but then Hob turns them right back off as Dream’s getting undressed. 

“Are you one of those people who prefers to have sex in the dark?” Dream asks, laughing as Hob crawls on top of him, shedding his shirt and underwear along the way. 

“Mmmm,” Hob says, putting his mouth on Dream’s neck instead of answering the question. Dream gasps as the other man bites down on that one sensitive spot just below his ear. “Don’t wanna get up later to turn them off.”

Dream hums, and that’s the end of that conversation as his mind floats away to far more interesting pursuits.

-----------------

The third time almost feels like a date. Almost. They don’t exactly plan to get together, just the two of them, it just sort of happens because Matthew had gotten sick, and Jessamy hadn’t wanted to leave him alone to fend for himself. She also wasn’t entirely sure if she was contagious herself and wanted to be safe. Mervyn was on call for a client this weekend so he wasn’t going out with them anyways, and Lucienne had decided she’d rather stay at home and catch up on some of her backlogged work rather than attend the Oktoberfest event they’d all bought tickets to. 

Hob had texted Dream individually and suggested they go out anyway, just the two of them, and Dream’s heart had stuttered in his chest when he’d read the message. Hob had suggested a new restaurant that had opened up near his apartment, and while it wasn’t necessarily a first date sort of place, it was still a bit nicer than any of the places they’d go with their friends for just drinks or a quick bite to eat. 

Dream agonizes for over an hour on what he should wear, before he ultimately defaults to what feels most natural to him, black jeans and a solid black polo instead of his usual band t-shirt, which he then pairs with a charcoal gray blazer, just to look a little nicer. But not too nice, just in case this isn’t a date. 

Hob, much to Dream’s disappointment, is in his regular outfit of a graphic tee and sweats when Dream arrives. He’s not terribly out of place in the restaurant, but he’s clearly not dressed to impress. He eyes Dream very appreciatively though, and doesn’t comment on why Dream’s a little more dressed up than usual. What he does do, however, is spend the evening whispering into Dream’s ear about how he’d like to peel that blazer off Dream and make him wear it while they fuck.

They only make it through a single round of drinks before they leave, with Hob leaving their server behind a more than generous tip for wrapping up their bill so quickly. 

Hob wastes no time divesting Dream of his blazer and tossing it down the hallway towards the bedroom before turning his attention back to kissing Dream senseless. He sinks to his knees and Dream moans as the other man then works at peeling his jeans off so he can blow Dream right in the front hall, up against the front door where anyone can walk by and hear. It makes everything that much hotter.

Later, when all Dream is left wearing is his blazer and nothing else, Hob gets up from where they’re kissing on the bed to turn off the lights and Dream frowns.

“You can just leave the lights on,” Dream says, before he coyly spreads his legs and shows off his best seductive pose to tempt Hob back to bed. Hob stares, transfixed at Dream’s posturing, before he huffs and then clicks off the lights anyways. Dream groans in annoyance and Hob laughs before he kisses Dream again.

“Sorry, just easier with the lights off,” Hob says, not sounding sorry at all. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

But Dream does worry. He doesn’t in the moment, but he does later, when they’re lying beside each other, Hob snoring away while Dream thinks and thinks and thinks. He thinks about how Hob always wants the lights off, and how he never cuddles with Dream after sex. He thinks about how they really only ever get together when it's convenient, but they've never made plans on their own, at least, not since Hob and Eleanor have broken up. 

Dream realizes, with a growing dread, that maybe Hob still isn't over Eleanor, that maybe all there is between them is sex, and nothing else. It makes an awful sort of sense; in the dark, Dream can't tell if Hob’s thinking about someone else, hoping for someone that's not Dream. Eleanor and Dream couldn't be anymore different but that hardly matters to a man with a broken heart. A warm body is a warm body after all, and Dream's the only other single person in their friend group.

If Hob's a little bit confused as to why Dream is a bit short with him in the morning he doesn't show it. Somehow that makes the pit in Dream's stomach worse.

-----------------

The fourth time—there isn’t a fourth time because Dream fucks it all up.

Dream had met with his publisher earlier in the day, and the meeting had gone rather…poorly. His editor had straight up told him that he’d needed to make significant changes to the book, and Dream had argued until he was hoarse but to no avail. He’d then been told to go home and sleep on things, effectively being dismissed like a petulant child who’d thrown a tantrum in public.

Dream knew he had a good story. He also knew that some of the suggested changes were good ones, while others would fundamentally change the story he was trying to tell. But still, the sheer amount of changes had overwhelmed him, and Dream had lost his temper. He already knows, with a growing dread, that he’ll have to make some apologies the next day.

He’s about to go home, but Dream decides instead he’d like to get as drunk as humanly possible to wash the bitter taste of the day from his mind. He texts the group chat, and since it’s a Friday night, they all respond with enthusiasm to blow off some steam for the weekend. Everyone except for Hob, who says he’s not feeling like socializing tonight, but he’s sorry Dream had such a shitty day. 

Dream tries not to be disappointed that Hob won’t show up. He wonders if he’d just invited Hob by himself, instead of texting their group, would he have come out, just for Dream? But they don’t do things like that, even with how long they’ve been friends. Before they started sleeping together, Hob and Dream had always just sort of existed together in the same circle of friends. Dream had actually met Eleanor first, and Hob only when they started dating. Dream has never spent any amount of alone time with Hob before now, and he still doesn’t know what sort of relationship they even have, if any at all. 

Dream’s worries leave his mind when the others show up. Mervyn stays for only one round of drinks, and Matthew and Jessamy only two before they head out for the evening. They have an early appointment with the planner the next day to do some cake tastings. Lucienne stays the longest, though she really only nurses the same glass of wine the entire night. She talks Dream through his frustrations with his editors, and his overall story. She’s been with him every step of the way to getting this publishing deal, and Dream hasn’t told her yet, but she’s going to be the front page of his acknowledgements. 

He’s so tempted to unload on her about Hob as well, but before he can gather the courage to broach the subject, she gets a text from someone and blushes furiously when she reads it. Dream pokes and prods until she admits she’s started seeing someone. Johanna. She’s not sure if it’s serious yet but well. They’re definitely physically compatible, and while she won’t show Dream her phone, he already knows she’s been sent something particularly provocative. So Dream lets her go, and then debates between ordering another drink or going home. 

He does neither of those things, and instead pulls out his phone and texts Hob, outside their group chat. The alcohol has more than loosened Dream’s inhibitions and right now, he’s lonely and horny. Lucienne’s reserved but still elated expression as she had happily explained Johanna had made Dream miss Hob. So he texts the other man and tells him he’d like to come over.

Hob’s response isn’t what he’s hoping for: are you drunk?

Dream frowns at his phone and then his initial message: aree tou busy?? Can i comeocer?

Okay, maybe he was a little more drunk than he realized. He asks Hob if it matters, being careful this time to make sure he types everything out carefully, and then closes out his tab while he waits for a response. Nothing comes. Dream’s annoyed and disappointed, but not surprised, so he starts to make his way to the train platform to head home. 

While he’s waiting, he finally gets a response back from Hob: okay. come over.

Dream changes platforms immediately and heads in the direction of Hob’s apartment. 

When he arrives, Hob pushes a glass of water towards him, which Dream drinks down greedily. When he’s done, he joins Hob on the couch and crawls into his lap to kiss him, but Hob pushes him away after only a few moments. Dream lets out an annoyed noise when Hob does it again. 

“Dream, not tonight,” Hob says, pushing him away when Dream tries to kiss him again.

“What do you mean?” Dream asks, now confused. 

“I don’t want to have sex right now,” Hob replies, before he pushes Dream off of him and back onto the couch, going back to watching whatever crime drama he’d had on before Dream arrived.

Dream stares, open mouthed and hurt, as Hob decidedly ignores him for Netflix. He gets up angrily and stomps around the kitchen, tearing open the cabinets looking for something to eat, and also more water because now he has a pounding headache as his body struggles to sober up now that he’s no longer drinking. 

“Dream!” Hob exclaims, getting up when Dream slams more than one cabinet door closed. “Come on, don’t be like this.”

“Like what?” Dream sneers, stuffing a potato chip into his mouth angrily. “I came all this way just to fuck you, didn’t I?”

“You’re drunk,” Hob points out.

“I’m always drunk when we have sex,” Dream argues, crossing his arms, chip bag still in hand. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.” 

“Yeah well, I’m not drunk now, and I’m also not in the mood,” Hob replies angrily. 

“Then why the hell did you invite me over?” Dream growls. 

“I don’t know!” Hob exclaims, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t thinking, obviously,” he adds, then gestures to Dream. “How was I supposed to know you’d be like this?”

Dream huffs, then carelessly tosses the bag of chips onto the counter. A few stray chips scatter across the counter, but Dream doesn’t care. Clearly Hob didn’t want him around, not for sex, and definitely not to comfort Dream after the awful day he’d had, so there was no point in staying. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Dream says, moving towards the door where he’d kicked off his shoes. He decides he’ll check the train times on the walk over.

“Dream,” Hob says, grabbing his arm before he can make it to the hallway. “It’s late. Come on. Let’s go to sleep.”

“I can get home on my own just fine,” Dream argues, raising his chin defiantly.

“No,” Hob replies, his voice stern as he grips Dream’s arm tighter. “Come on, let’s just go to bed. You need to sleep this off.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Dream says, yanking his arm out of Hob’s grip. “Since you’re not interested in fucking my bad day out of me.”

“Dream, stop being so fucking difficult!” Hob yells, shocking both of them.

The echo of Hob’s roar hangs tensely between them, and Hob steps back from Dream with a hand over his mouth, clearly horrified at what he’s done. Dream also feels the prick of tears in his eyes as he processes just how angry Hob actually has been with him all night. 

How the hell had this night gotten worse? Dream doesn’t know, but what he does know is that he needs to leave before he starts drunkenly crying in Hob’s apartment, and Hob is the last person Dream wants to see him like this. 

Dream tries making his way towards the door again, but Hob seems to regain his senses and physically blocks him. Dream tries to push him, then tries to hit Hob’s shoulder to make him move, but Hob grabs Dream’s wrist to stop him. 

“I’m sorry,” Hob says, his voice much softer this time, laced with regret and pity. Dream hates it. “I lost my temper, I shouldn’t have done that,” he adds.

“Fuck off!” Dream yells, and oh. No. No, no, no, no. Dream furiously blinks back the tears before they can start falling, even if he can’t stop the pained hiccups that betray his emotional state from leaving his mouth.

“Just—” Dream gasps, then forces himself to breathe, slow and deep, and then counts to five. “Let me go home. You don’t—” his breath hitches again, cutting off what he wants to say. Fuck. He couldn’t even string together a full sentence if he tried.

“Dream, please,” Hob replies, his voice practically begging now. “Don’t leave. I don’t want you going home alone like this.” Dream turns to meet Hob eyes, and his anger dissipates slightly when he sees how devastated Hob looks. 

Despite how awful Dream feels, even he knows it’d be a mistake to go home in his current state. He’s highly emotional, drunk, and likely wouldn’t be paying attention to his surroundings. He could get mugged, or worse. 

“Fine,” Dream finally relents. Hob lets out a sigh of relief, and hugs him. Dream doesn’t hug him back. He’s still angry after all. 

But Dream lets Hob wrangle him down the hall to the bedroom, and then he strips down to his underwear to sleep, since he doesn’t have any of his own clothes here. And why would he? It’s not like they’re anything other than an occasional hookup after all. 

Hob does offer Dream a shirt and pajama pants to wear, but Dream tosses them away from him without so much as a second glance. Hob sighs at Dream, and then shuts off the lights, turning away from Dream without another word to sleep. He’s clearly still frustrated with Dream too.  

Dream lies there next to Hob, feeling cold and rejected and lonely. He hates everything about this. Hates that Hob let him come over and make a fool out of himself when he could have easily just told Dream to fuck off and go home instead. Hates that Hob even came onto him in the first place, all those months ago, and now they’re here, in this weird in-between state where they're together but not together. 

Dream realizes too late that he really hadn’t cared if they had sex or not either. He’d wanted comfort more than anything, comfort from Hob specifically. But the only comfort he knew that came from Hob was sex. And that’s the worst part of it. Dream knows now, without a doubt, that he has feelings for Hob. That he wants more out of this than what they’re doing now, but he’s not sure Hob does. At this point, he’s too afraid to ask. 

Hob’s bedroom suddenly feels like a suffocating prison as all of Dream’s feelings hit him at once. He’s going to cry again if he stays, and he really doesn’t want Hob to see him like this. He doesn’t want Hob to know just how badly he’s gotten under Dream’s skin. 

Dream realizes he needs to leave. He’s stone cold sober now, having laid here in the dark with nothing but his thoughts and his third glass of water now emptied on the bedside table. He listens carefully for the evening out of Hob’s breath, then shuffles around in bed to see if any of his movements disturb the other man. When he’s certain that Hob is deep in sleep, Dream hurriedly dresses himself, checks to see that there’s still trains running this late at night, and then rushes out when he sees the next one is in just 15 minutes. Hob lives about 12 minutes from the nearest station. Dream can make it if he runs. 

The front door slams loudly behind him as he leaves, but Dream doesn’t care. Hob probably won’t even notice that he’s gone. 

Dream makes it to the station just as the train is pulling into the stop. As he’s getting on, he hears yelling and frantic running, the sounds of someone about to miss the train.  Dream considers holding the doors until he sees just who's rushing towards the train.

It's Hob. Hob who is barely dressed, and running down the steps to the train platform in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. He catches Dream's eyes and waves frantically to get his attention. Dream’s heart flutters momentarily, and he imagines that maybe he was wrong about everything after all. That maybe there’s more to what’s been happening between them than just rebound sex.

Dream gets on the train anyways, and the doors shut just as Hob reaches the platform, and the train pulls away. 

-----------------

They pretend like nothing is wrong after that night. Hob had texted Dream the next morning to ask if he’d gotten home okay, and Dream had left him on read. He had far more important things to worry about that morning, like his pounding headache and the fact that he needed to talk to his editor at some point.

When he finally fights off the last of his hangover, Dream has a much more pleasant conversation with his editing team, who he apologizes to for losing his temper. His team apologizes to him as well, which he doesn’t expect, but they reassure him it’s their job to encourage him, not discourage him from writing. They have a candid conversation about communication, and then agree on a plan to move forward with his book.

Dream happily shares the good news with his group chat, still ignoring the direct message from Hob. He credits Lucienne for talking him off the ledge the night before, and the flood of positive and congratulatory messages flows easily after that. Even from Hob. 

Dream sighs when he reads the other man’s message in their group chat, then flips back to their private conversation. He really should apologize for his behavior as well, but he has no idea how to explain himself without revealing more than he’s comfortable with. So Dream turns off his phone, and goes back to working on his novel, hoping that maybe he’ll come up with something to say later in the evening.

He never does end up replying. Hob doesn’t privately message him either after that.

-----------------

It’s trivia night at the White Horse, and Dream would normally be excited to go and show off his arcane knowledge, but tonight he’s dreading the occasion. It’s been a month since he and Hob had last seen each other and he really has no idea how he’s supposed to act around the other man. Do they pretend like nothing ever happened between them? They haven’t spoken since, so things were clearly over between them. 

Dream’s still trying to tell himself it’s better this way. They were hurtling towards disaster, and Dream should’ve really known better, should’ve known that he really can’t do casual after all, and now he’s probably permanently fucked up his friendship with Hob because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check. He still hasn’t apologized, he doesn’t know if Hob even wants an apology from him at this point, or if he just wants to forget about everything that ever happened between them. 

So when Dream’s sister texts him and tells him she’s in town for a few days, Dream jumps at the opportunity to meet her and cancel on trivia night plans. He receives a variety of boos and ‘we’ll lose without you!’ responses, all of which make him smile despite himself. Even Hob laments the loss of Dream’s knowledge for the evening. 

When Dream arrives at The New Inn later that night, it’s not only his sister that greets him. Eleanor is with her. Dream hasn’t seen her since she and Hob broke up. When she’d moved across the country, she left the group chat and hasn’t really talked to anyone since. Dream had missed her, if he were being honest with himself. Even though Hob had said the breakup was amicable, and that Eleanor had only left the chat because she couldn’t be part of their plans any longer, Dream was still sad to see her go. He realizes he could’ve tried harder to keep in touch with her, but then everything with Hob had happened and well.

Dream wants to hug Eleanor and also scream at her. Wants to unload what a horrible last month he’s had, and also wants her to never find out he’d been sleeping with her ex. It’s not her fault that Dream fell into bed with Hob knowing he wasn’t over his relationship with her yet. It’s entirely her fault for being so perfect, however, that there’s no way Dream could ever compare, and that’s why Hob won’t look at him when they have sex. 

When they had sex. Dream and Hob have barely spoken since that night, and only in their group chat. He’s pretty sure Hob doesn’t want to even be in the same room as Dream right now, for how ugly Dream had acted over what was supposed to be just a casual hookup.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, Ellie,” Dream says, giving both her and his sister a hug before taking a seat across from them. “But what are you doing back in town?”

“Dream—” Didi starts, but then Eleanor places a hand on her shoulder and stops her.

“We’re dating,” Eleanor says bluntly, moving her hand from Didi’s shoulder down to her hand. Their fingers interlace and Dream’s eyes boggle as he looks between them, shocked.

“When did this happen?” he asks, settling himself in for what must be an extremely interesting story.

Eleanor and Didi take turns recalling the story of how they met through a local meetup for knitters in Seattle, and how Didi had recognized Eleanor from one time she’d come out drinking with Dream and his friends years ago. Happy to have a familiar face, Didi and Eleanor had become fast friends, and they both realized they had a lot in common too.

Before either of them knew it, Eleanor was inviting Didi out everywhere as they explored their new city together, and Didi became accustomed to calling Eleanor after every shift at the hospital. One thing led to another, and then another, and now they’re practically attached at the hip. Didi even shyly admits they’ve talked about moving in together. 

The two of them beam at him when they’re done with their story and Dream wants to congratulate them. Wants to be happy that his favorite sister is dating one of his oldest friends. He wants to make plans to visit them in their new home, maybe even help them move if he can work out the logistics. He hasn’t been out to Seattle in some time, and he really could use a vacation.

“I started sleeping with Hob after you left,” is what Dream says instead. 

Eleanor spits her (thankfully white) wine all over Didi, who freezes in place, staring at Dream in shock. Dream stares back, horrified both at what he just said, and what followed after. He braces himself, expecting Eleanor to explode on him, to call him a slut, a bad friend, a terrible human being.

Instead, Eleanor starts laughing. Didi does too eventually.  

“Oh my god, of course he did,” Eleanor wheezes as she doubles over in her seat. Their server rushes over, bringing some extra napkins and Didi excuses herself to the restroom to wipe off the rest of the wine. Dream and Eleanor are left staring at one another in silence, before Eleanor breaks the tension with another giggle.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m not laughing at you, really, just the whole situation. Imagine if you brought Hob with you tonight?” she practically squeals.

“I—you’re not mad?” Dream asks, more shocked than anything. Eleanor just shrugs and drinks from her water glass this time, instead of her wine.

“I mean, did Hob at least wait a day before he tried to make a move on you?” Eleanor asks. “Not that it matters really, we were broken up before I left but well, you know. Respectful turnaround time and all that.”

“I—” Dream stutters, trying desperately to recall when that first time with Hob actually happened. “I mean, I think it was a few weeks after you left?”

Eleanor snorts. “Good enough, I guess.” 

“Sorry,” Dream says, shaking his head as Didi returns and sits back down next to Eleanor. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. Did you know he wanted to—?”

“Oh no, no,” Eleanor says then starts laughing again. “Our breakup wasn’t planned or anything, don’t worry. It’s just that, well. He told me he wanted to stay with you guys more than me, so I’m not that surprised?”

“What?” Dream says, dumbly. “But you both said the breakup was mutual.” Eleanor sighs.

“I mean,” she replies. “It was technically mutual. But Hob wanted to stay in Boston, and I didn’t. And one of our last arguments before I left was about abandoning our friends.” She shrugs again. “I love you all, don’t get me wrong, but I really love living out in Seattle more. Especially the company.” She smiles at Didi, who kisses her on the cheek. “It kind of sucked that Hob really didn’t want to move, but it wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to do it all just for me and my career goals.”

“Oh,” Dream says dumbly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Dream wouldn’t have wanted to leave Boston for any reason either, so it makes sense, he thinks. Boston is just that. It’s home.

“It’ll make double dating a little weird, though,” Eleanor adds, and Didi laughs. 

“I think we’ll be fine though,” Didi adds, then turns her focus to Dream. “So tell us about you and Hob,” she says.  

“I—we’re not,” Dream stammers, unsure of how to proceed further with the conversation. Eleanor and Didi’s expressions both fall.

“Oh, Dream,” Didi says, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine,” Dream says though he feels anything but. “I don’t—it didn’t last long between us,” he admits. 

“Wow, he fumbled the bag on you?” Eleanor interjects, shock clearly painted on her face. “My god, he really is an idiot.”

“No I—we had a fight,” Dream says, unsure of why he feels the need to clarify. “It was my fault really. I shouldn’t have—he wasn’t ready to commit.” 

Eleanor makes a confused face. 

“That—doesn’t sound like Hob,” Eleanor says after a moment, and Dream huffs in annoyance.

“You only knew him while you were dating, how would you know that?” Dream retorts.

“Because he told me he’s never done casual,” Eleanor replies. “When we first started seeing each other, he basically said just that. That’s what I liked about him, he wanted to do the whole commitment thing right away, even if it didn’t end up working out.”

“Well maybe he’s changed,” Dream says, far more grumpily than he intended. “He’s never said shit to me about anything, and still hasn’t, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Dream,” Didi says gently, squeezing his hand. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine,” Dream insists, not wanting to go into the details of how he’d terribly fucked up his situation with Hob. 

“You don’t sound fine at all,” Didi replies.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation at dinner though?” Eleanor interjects, looking concernedly at him. Dream huffs and then pouts. Eleanor was always hyper attuned to when people were upset, especially Dream.

But Dream does want to talk about it, even if it is a bit awkward, all things considered. Eleanor seems to at least be willing to hear Dream out, if nothing else. 

They wrap up their bill quickly, taking some of their dinner to go, and find their way over to Dream’s apartment, where he spends the rest of the night wrapped up in a blanket while he recounts the past six months to his sister and Eleanor. There’s also, perhaps, a lot of wine involved. Solely because Eleanor had decided it was also girls night and they needed a lot of wine for a proper one.

“I’m going to murder him myself,” Eleanor says, holding up her bottle of wine when Dream finishes telling her everything that had happened up until now. 

“El, no,” Dream whines. He’s really more embarrassed about the whole situation now than anything. Talking things over with the two of them had really helped, and Dream wonders if he should’ve talked to Lucienne, or even Jessamy and Matthew to start. Maybe he wouldn’t have let things go so far the way they did between him and Hob.

“Nah, he deserves it,” Eleanor replies, taking another swig from her bottle. 

“It’s really my fault,” Dream tries to insist, knowing it’s useless to defend Hob to his own ex. “I knew he wasn’t over you and I—”

“No, Dream, listen to me,” Eleanor says, taking Dream’s face in her hands. “He never—” she turns away from him suddenly and then burps. Dream laughs, despite himself. 

“He never what?” Dream asks when Eleanor turns back to face him. She sighs.

“He never told you why he turns off the lights, and that’s on him,” Eleanor tells him. 

“I—what?” Dream says dumbly. Hob turned off the lights with Eleanor too?

“Yeah, he—” Eleanor hiccups and then starts giggling. She releases Dream’s face and then falls back onto Didi, who’s sitting behind her on the couch. “He’s sensitive, you know? About—” she gestures at her front, “All the hair he has. Hates it when people see it. I think we had sex with the lights on like, twice, at most.” She pauses and then regards Dream, her expression sombering. “I thought you knew.”

“Why would I know that?” Dream asks, dumfounded. Hob had never given any indicator that he was sensitive about any part of his body, and no one in their friend group had ever commented on it.

“Because,” Eleanor replies, gesturing wildly. “Think about it. Whenever we went to the beach or anything together, did you ever see him take his shirt off? Or at the pool at Matthew and Jessamy’s place?”

“I—” Dream filters through his memory, which is an especially difficult task considering how drunk they are. He realizes that Eleanor’s right. 

“Shit.” Dream groans. “I think I fucked up.”

“No, no, he did,” Eleanor insists. “I always told him I didn’t mind all the hair,” she adds then sighs. “I mean it’s a lot, but it never bothered me, you know?”

“It’s never bothered me either,” Dream admits. He’d rather liked the differences in their bodies actually. Hob was broad where Dream was lanky, naturally tan and sunkissed where Dream was pale. Dream had never had an opinion on chest hair before, what little hair he’d had it was so fine and thin that his chest looked bare anyways. But Eleanor was right. Dream had never really seen Hob casually uncovered. And while he was always eager to undress Dream when the lights were still on, Hob almost never fully undressed himself until after he’d shut them off. 

It seems so obvious now, in retrospect. But Dream had been caught up in his own insecurities to really notice that Hob had any of his own to address.

“I honestly thought he didn’t want to look at me when he turned off the lights,” Dream confesses. “That maybe he was hoping he could pretend I was someone else in the dark.”

“Okay, I’m with my girlfriend,” Didi says suddenly, a murderous look in her eyes. “I’m a doctor, I can make it look like an accident,” she adds, holding up her weird hand mixed cocktail that has hot sauce in it. 

“Didi!” Dream exclaims. “No murder,” he orders, then laughs at the absurdity of the entire situation. They all start laughing, and Dream feels something unwind in his chest when they do. He thinks about texting Hob, but ultimately decides against it. What he wants to tell him, he wants to do it sober, and in person. 

Dream wakes up the next morning extremely hungover, and orders breakfast for delivery. Didi and Eleanor try to insist on paying him back, but he waves away their money, and tells them they can buy him dinner when he flies out to see them move. They both hug him fiercely on their way out and make him promise to see them at least one more time before they fly back to Seattle.

-----------------

A week after his conversation with his sister and Eleanor, Dream is outside Hob’s apartment door, pacing nervously as he rehearses everything he wants to say to Hob. His apology. His request to start things over, if Hob still wants to try. How he’s really been feeling about their whole not-relationship status.

Really, he’s just stalling knocking on Hob’s door. What if Hob doesn’t answer when he sees it’s Dream? What if he tells Dream to go away without even hearing him out? What if—

Dream groans and then mentally slaps himself. He needs to stop worrying himself unnecessarily. Either Hob will want to hear him out or he won’t. But Dream needs to at least try.

He’s about to raise his hand to finally knock on the door, when suddenly he hears Hob’s voice, distinctly from not inside the apartment. 

“Dream?” Hob asks. Dream turns in the direction of his voice and finds Hob standing at the end of the hall, groceries in hand. Dream realizes he’s been an idiot standing in front of a completely empty apartment. 

“Hi,” Dream says, every rehearsed speech and romantic gesture he’d just been rehearsing evaporating from his mind like wisps of smoke.

“Hi,” Hob replies, his voice flat. He looks tired, but not angry at least, to see Dream. “Did you need something?” he asks as he walks slowly towards his front door, eyeing Dream a little suspiciously. Dream can’t really blame him. Their last interaction had ended rather poorly.

“I—can we talk?” Dream asks, stepping aside so Hob can put his key in the lock. Hob sighs and his shoulders droop, like he’s been dreading this exact situation. 

“Sure,” Hob replies, putting on a fake cheerful demeanor as he opens the door to let himself and Dream in. 

“Do you need help with anything?” Dream asks, trailing Hob towards the kitchen. 

“If you want,” Hob replies, setting the groceries down onto the counter. But before Dream can start unpacking anything, he sighs again and groans. 

“Actually, Dream,” Hob says, turning around and facing him head on. “Let’s just talk now.” 

“Uhm—okay,” Dream replies, now feeling incredibly nervous. Hob looks at him expectantly, crossing his arms as he waits for Dream to gather his thoughts. 

Finally, Dream says, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. About everything that happened last time I was here.”

His apology seems to surprise Hob, who suddenly straightens up from his leaning position against the counter.

“Oh,” Hob replies, sounding dumbstruck. “I—I’m sorry too,” he offers, uncrossing his arms and running a hand through his hair. Dream realizes it’s longer than the last time he’d seen it. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you that night.”

“To be fair, I was being an ass,” Dream admits, even though it pains him to do so.  

“Yeah but you had a reason to be,” Hob says. “I was just feeling sorry for myself for no reason and I took it out on you.”

“I still took my shitty day out on you,” Dream replies, shrugging. “So I guess we were both not at our best that night.”

“I guess not,” Hob accepts, with a small smile. “We’re okay then?”

Dream nods. “Yes,” he says, offering a small smile himself, then stepping towards Hob. “Why were you feeling sorry for yourself?” Hob’s expression shutters closed again, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s not important,” he says, turning away and refusing to meet Dream’s eyes.  

“Hob,” Dream says, taking another step closer and reaching out to take the other man’s hand in his. “It’s important to me,” he adds.  

Hob sighs, and then turns his eyes to the ceiling. When he meets Dream’s gaze again, he looks pained. 

“I’m not good at being casual Dream,” Hob tells him bluntly, and Dream feels a sense of deja vu run through him like a live wire. “If we’re going to keep doing…this, I want there to be a commitment. It’s not just sex to me.”

It���s almost identical to what Eleanor had said about Hob to Dream a week prior. Dream suddenly feels wretched for not noticing sooner, but also indignant, because why had Hob assumed that wasn’t what Dream wanted as well? 

“Hob,” Dream says, as calmly as he can manage, before he squeezes Hob’s hand tightly. “What made you think I didn’t want the same things?”

Hob’s face falls. He looks intently at Dream’s face, and whatever he finds there only seems to upset him further. 

“I—I don’t know,” Hob admits, before he groans and places his free hand over his face. Dream finds it a bit comforting that he hasn’t tried to remove Dream’s hand over his other one.

“I’ve read this whole thing wrong, haven’t I?” Hob says through his hand, before slapping his forehead. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not,” Dream says, before he takes Hob’s free hand as well. “And to be fair,” he adds, “it’s occurred to me recently that I may have, as well. We’ve never talked about—about this,” he gestures between them. “Us. We just sort of skip to the sex.”

“Well, we have been drunk every time,” Hob replies. “You said so yourself.”

“Not—every time,” Dream says. “After Matthew got food poisoning, when I thought that you had invited me out on a date, we only had one drink each that we didn’t finish.”

“Wait,” Hob stutters, his whole body going rigid. “You thought I had invited you out for a date? That’s why—,” his eyes widen suddenly. “That’s why you wore the blazer.”

Dream blushes furiously and now it is his turn to look away from Hob’s scrutinizing gaze. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“No I’m not I—,” Hob groans again, and then, unexpectedly, pulls his hands free before dropping his head down on Dream’s shoulder. Dream startles when he feels Hob’s arms suddenly wrap around his waist shortly after.

“I had no idea. None at all,” Hob confesses, then groans again. “God I would’ve taken you somewhere nicer if I knew you wanted it to be a date.”

Dream shrugs, then reaches up to pat Hob on the back. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Not really, but we can agree to disagree,” Hob replies, before he tilts his head slightly up to look at Dream “Can I get a do-over on that then?” he asks. “Take you out on a proper date?”

Dream wants that, he realizes. Desperately. So he nods. 

“I do want that,” Dream says honestly. “But—”

“Oh God, there’s a ‘but’,” Hob groans before he straightens and untangles himself from Dream. Dream already misses the warmth of Hob’s body. 

“It’s not a bad ‘but’,” Dream replies. “But there’s something that’s been bothering me since we—since all this started,” he finishes. “I want to make sure we’re really on the same page.”

Hob nods. “Okay, sure. What is it?” he asks.

Dream takes a deep breath to brace himself, and then looks Hob directly in the eye. Now or never, he supposes. 

“Why do you turn off the lights?” Dream asks. 

Hob blinks, slow, then suddenly blushes a furious red before he buries his face in his hands.

“Aw, come on Dream,” Hob sighs. “It’s really embarrassing.”

Dream softens a bit, but remains resolute. Eleanor had told him what she thought had been the problem all along, but he still needs to hear it from Hob himself.  

“I need to know, Hob,” Dream insists.

“Why?” Hob asks, then sighs again. “I mean, I don’t know, it’s pretty obvious isn’t it? I’m not really much to look at, you know,” he says, gesturing to himself.

“Not much to look at?” Dream asks, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“I know, it’s stupid,” Hob sighs, running a hand over his face. “But I mean, Dream, look at you. You’re gorgeous and I’m…I don’t know, not that?”

“I’m still not following,” Dream says, still confused but also growing more and more uneasy about what Hob is implying. “Did you…did you really not think I was attracted to you? At all?”

“No, I—I just—,” Hob stutters. “I don’t know what I thought, honestly,” he says, looking guilty. “I just—I’m not as confident as you about how I look naked,” he adds, gesturing to his front, and Dream’s heart sinks at the confirmation of yet another thing Eleanor had told him. “I thought…maybe you’d change your mind about being with me. If you saw, well— everything.”

“Everything,” Dream replies flatly. 

“I mean, you know I’m really…hairy,” Hob says, before he winces. “And well, I’m not really in shape or anything like that either…” he trails off, looking even more guilty with every new word that comes out of his mouth. Like he’s only just realizing now that he pushed his anxieties about his body onto Dream, who clearly hasn't noticed any of the things Hob's insecure about.

“So…what?” Dream says, suddenly feeling indignance and hurt creep into his voice. “You just assumed I wouldn’t find you attractive unless I was drunk and we had sex in the dark?”

“Wait, what?” Hob exclaims. 

“Am I really that shallow sounding to you?” Dream continues, already feeling his emotions start to get the better of him.

“No, oh god, no,” Hob replies immediately. “Dream, I don’t know what’s brought this on, but swear it had nothing to do with you. I was just stupid and insecure about myself, and I wasn’t thinking properly. I’m sorry, I really had no idea it bothered you so much.”

A somewhat tense and awkward silence falls between them. Dream mulls over what Hob has told him, feeling wretched about how deeply they’ve both misunderstood one another. But he had come here to clear those misunderstandings after all. Hob had admitted his insecurities. Now Dream had to as well. 

“I actually thought—” Dream says, then takes a shuddering breath to calm himself. “I thought you turned the lights off because you didn’t want to look at me,” he finally admits.  “Because I wasn’t who you really wanted to be with.”

Hob’s eyes widen, first in shock, then horror. “Wait you thought that I—”

“Was using me as a stand-in for Eleanor?” Dream finishes. He wraps his arms around himself and then looks away, refusing to meet Hob’s eyes. He feels like a coward for doing so but Dream knows he’ll lose his resolve to admit everything he’d been bottling up if he does. “The first time we slept together, I assumed you were only looking for a rebound. And when we never talked about it after, or told our friends I—”

“Fuck, Dream,” Hob interrupts, grabbing him suddenly and hugging Dream to his chest. “I had no idea, I—fuck, I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

Dream sniffles, wrapping his own arms around Hob, shrugging helplessly. 

“I should have said something sooner,” Dream says. “But I let it—fester instead. I had no idea that you thought you weren’t attractive to me either. But Hob,” he adds, turning his head to meet Hob’s eyes again, hoping he looks as serious as he feels. “I don’t just sleep with people I’m not attracted to. Regardless of how much alcohol is involved.”

Hob nods. “Yeah. I—I’m still sorry about everything though.”

“Me too,” Dream replies, then adds, a bit more quietly. “I like the hair, actually.” Hob chokes out a noise that seems half between a laugh and a sob. 

“You don’t have to say—” he starts but Dream shushes him.

“I mean it, Hob,” Dream says, before he works a hand between them to pet the small patch of hair peeking out from beneath Hob’s shirt. “I think it suits you. And I would like to be able to fully appreciate it.”

When he looks up at Hob, the other man’s eyes are a bit watery. But then Hob blinks rapidly, and sniffles, before he hugs Dream even more tightly to himself.

“Stay the night?” Hob asks. “Not for—not for sex. Just stay with me?”

Dream nods against Hob’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Hob makes a decision to order takeout instead of making dinner like he originally planned, citing that he’d rather spend time talking with Dream anyways. They still put away the groceries, which helps release a lot of the emotional tension that had built up between them, and Dream enjoys the warm, domestic feel of the activity. 

Once their food arrives, they settle on Hob’s couch and talk late into the night about everything and nothing. Hob catches Dream up on what missed during trivia when he was out with Didi, and Dream shyly admits that Didi had not been the only person he’d talked to that evening. Hob stares at him, equal parts awestruck and mortified, as Dream recalls his conversations with Eleanor and Didi, and how he found out they were dating. 

“So what you’re saying is, I’m lucky to have my bits still attached?” Hob jokes. 

“Hob,” Dream chastises him, bumping their shoulders together. “That’s not nice.”

“You didn’t date Eleanor,” Hob retorts. “She’s terrifying, do you know how many serial killer documentaries she used to watch?”

Dream did, in fact, know this. He had been subject to many episodes of Cold Case Files growing up with Didi, and his knowledge had been how he and Eleanor had first become friends. Dream suspects Eleanor’s deep passion for them is actually one of the reasons why she and Didi get along so well.

“Hob,” Dream says, a new worry now crossing his mind. “Are you—okay—with all of this?” he waves vaguely. “With Didi dating your ex while we—?” He trails off. They still haven’t really decided on what their official relationship status would be going forward, and Dream doesn’t want to presume.

Hob nudges Dream with his shoulder, and then kisses the top of his head. 

“Yeah, I am,” Hob answers sincerely. “I mean—it’s never not going to suck that we broke up,” he adds. “But we had our time, and if she’s happy then I’m happy too.”

Dream nods. “That’s good to hear,” he says. 

“Are you okay with it?” Hob asks. Dream hums. 

“I am,” he answers, then huffs a laugh. “I did offer to help them move into their new place, though.”

Hob groans. “Does this mean I have to help too as part of my good boyfriend duties?” he asks.

Dream’s potsticker falls out of his mouth mid chew, hits his knee, and then falls to the floor.

“Shit!” Dream exclaims, putting his food on the coffee table before bending down to pick up the stray dumpling. 

“I—did I say something wrong?” Hob asks, worry now clear in his voice. Dream shakes his head and then flops against Hob’s shoulder.

“You said nothing wrong,” Dream says into Hob’s shoulder, his face now flushed with embarrassment. “I was just surprised, is all. You—you said it so easily.”

“Boyfriend, you mean?” Hob asks, now in a teasing tone. “Do you like it?”

Dream nods, feeling ridiculous about being done in by a single word. But Hob doesn’t seem to mind.

“I like it too,” is all he says, before he places a hand underneath Dream’s chin and kisses him.

-----------------

As they’re getting ready for bed, Dream feels a thrum of excitement, even though they’ve still agreed that sex is off the table for the night. They’re both far too tired and emotionally drained from the evening to put in the effort anyways.

But then Hob is holding out his arm for Dream to snuggle into, and Dream feels like a teenanger as he curls up against Hob’s chest and rests his head on it. 

“Fair warning that you’re going to wake up sweaty if you stay here all night,” Hob tells him. Dream knows he doesn’t mean to sound so self-deprecating, but now that he knows just how deep Hob’s insecurities run, it breaks his heart a little. 

“That’s fine,” Dream says, pressing himself even closer. He can feel Hob’s chest hair poking through the thin material of his undershirt. Dream rubs his face into it, enjoying the rough, scratchy texture against his check. Hob laughs at Dream’s actions, and Dream hums in contentment. He really did like the feel of Hob’s chest hair. It was surprisingly soft in certain places, and warm. Maybe Dream would wake up because he’s too warm in the middle of the night. Maybe he won’t. He’s just glad that now he gets the opportunity to find out. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be enthusiastic about it,” Hob says as Dream nuzzles him again.

“I’m not,” Dream replies, rolling his eyes. “It feels…nice.”

“Sure,” Hob replies. “Say that again in the morning.”

Dream does in fact, say something similar to that effect in the morning. He says it while he sits atop Hob’s lap, Dream gripping the thick pelt of hair for purchase as he ruts himself desperately against Hob. 

They’ve never had sex in the morning. In the bright light of day. Somehow it’s even more intimate than what Dream imagines having sex with the lights on must feel like and he loves it. Hob is looking at Dream like he’s something divine, like he can’t quite believe that what they’re doing is really happening. Dream thinks he’ll never let Hob turn off the lights again when they do this. He never again wants to miss a single second of seeing the way Hob looks at him, at how stunning Hob’s entire body looks and feels when pressed against Dream’s. His new goal, for however long it takes, is that Hob never questions Dream’s attraction to him ever again.

When they’ve both reached their peaks, Dream collapses on top of Hob, uncaring of the sticky mess between them. Hob’s chest is warm and broad, and Dream finds himself slowly drifting back to sleep. Hob groans after a while, however, wriggling beneath the weight of Dream's body, and disturbing his otherwise peaceful post-coital rest.

“Okay, this is sweet and all, but now I’m the one that's too hot,” Hob whines, pushing gently at Dream’s shoulder. Dream laughs, a brazen, awful honking noise that he’s always been insecure about. But Hob had told him the night before that he loves Dream’s laugh, and Dream can see now that the other man wasn’t lying. He’s looking at Dream softly, so full of affection that Dream nearly forgets he needs to move and just stares at Hob for a while.

“What?” Hob asks, his eyes crinkled with happiness.

“Nothing,” Dream replies, smiling back before he moves off of his boyfriend’s chest.

Hob gets up from the bed once Dream rolls off of him and heads towards the bathroom. He comes back with two warm washcloths to wipe themselves off with. When they’re both done, he tosses both cloths in the direction of the hamper, missing his target by mere inches. 

“Close enough,” Hob says. 

“That’ll leave a wet spot on your carpet,” Dream tells him, already seeing his prediction start to come true. 

“I’ll get to it later,” Hob replies before he kisses Dream, languid and slow and perfect. “I have more important things to do today.”

[just-french-me-up]

(In)somnia Veritas

Fandom : The Sandman (AO3 link) Pairing : Dreamling (Dream x Hob) Rating : G | 1.8k Tags : Angst & Comfort, Retired Dream, Post Wake Fix-it, Established Relationship Summary : No longer Dream of the Endless, Morpheus spends his first night as a human at Hob's, struggling with his new condition. He can not sleep. He will not sleep. How could he, when wakefulness is all he has ever known?

Hob had expected the craziness of it all to keep him awake. The Kindly Ones. The Fates. Daniel Hall. Dream of the Endless, now, for all intents and purposes. It all whirled in his head as he settled in bed, Dream―Morpheus' form next to him, already still from sleep.

Hob's gaze lingered for a moment. He didn't look changed. Even like this, very much asleep and vulnerable, his lips slightly parted in a shallow, slumbering breath, Morpheus still looked like the powerful being he'd been, mere hours ago. Human. It hardly seemed thinkable. Hob had been around for a while, and never had a human ever looked like that. Yet another rule broken tonight, it seemed.

As his head hit the pillow, Hob could feel the heaviness of the day weighing on him, a crown of lead encasing his head, a migraine he resigned himself to fight all night. Instead, sleep took him the second he closed his eyes, his body melting away, as though engulfed by a wave.

The rest was for Dani―Dream of the Endless to know.

It was still dark when sleep loosened its grip around him. Disoriented, Hob rolled drowsily on the mattress, expecting to meet the cold yet substantial shape of Drea―Morpheus' body, yet only found more sheets.

Confused, he cracked an eye open, his hand instinctively patting the empty space, as though he would find Morpheus hidden between the folds somewhere. Nothing. Hob's heart jolted wildly in his chest, pumping bitter bile in his throat. The Fates changed their minds, panic whispered in his ear instantly. They've taken him back. They could not let him be.

Slapped awake, Hob sprung out of bed, blood thrashing in his ears. I've got to get him back, he kept thinking. I must get him back. He did not know where to start, how to work out any kind of summons or strike any sort of supernatural bargain (those had a tendency to find him, not the other way around), but he would figure it out, he had to, he would even call―

His hand still tense on the doorknob, Hob froze in his tracks.

In complete darkness, Morpheus was sitting on his couch, his thighs pressed against his chest, still wearing the old t-shirt Hob had given him as improvised sleepwear. He barely seemed to notice the interruption. He barely seemed to breathe, for that matter. He simply sat there, statuesque, his eyes burning a hole into the opposite wall.

Relief flooded through Hob at the sight, no matter how eerie it felt. He was there. He hadn't gone anywhere. His hand relaxed around the doorknob, though his heartbeat had trouble adjusting.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice slightly hoarse.

There was no acknowledgment of his presence, or answer. Still as a rock, Morpheus kept staring at the wall, his face blank.

Hob dared a few steps closer.

"Can't sleep?" he tried again, cautious not to startle him as he neared the couch. He considered switching on the lights, but quickly decided against it. It felt like one of those matters that were best discussed under the cover of darkness. The constant London light pollution would have to do.

"It's all so... silent."

Hob stilled, caught off guard by the sound of Morpheus' voice. It was still his, undeniably, every note, every inflection, but it missed... something. An edge. A preternatural depth that rose from the dawn of times, when the first being laid down and dreamt on its first night. A human did not need such speech. Like the rest, it now belonged to Daniel.

Hob approached him, electing to sit at the edge of the couch rather than directly next to Morpheus.

"You think this is silent?"

He had grown used to the constant whir of London life, every new century bringing new sounds to the mix, but there was no ignoring the myriad of dogs barking outside, the drunk students talking much louder than social norms would allow during the day, and the ballet of bin lorries and automated street cleaners. Could Morpheus not hear that?

"How can you bear it?"

Slowly, Morpheus' eyes left the wall to settle on Hob, turning to face him. Even with the lack of proper lighting, Hob could see his eyes clearly. Blue, as the day they first met. And full of apprehension about this world he'd never had to navigate this way, even though his pride would not allow him to put it in such words. This, at least, had been his to keep.

Hob stared at Dream, at a loss for words. If this was silence for him, what hellish racket must have been filling his mind until then? How could he bear it?

"It's all I've ever known," he said, settling for something that felt true, in his core. "I'm sorry. I imagine it must be... jarring."

"It is... unnerving," Morpheus nodded slowly, looking down, as though he would not bear to admit it while looking at Hob in the eyes. "Isolating. Empty. And at the same time..."

"Deafening," Hob supplied helpfully. "I understand."

Of course it felt empty, he thought. When one had spent their entire existence with the collective unconscious at their fingertips, dreams and nightmares echoing into their ears every second of every day, being severed from it must feel like having your head dunked into a bucket of water.

"It is no wonder humans devised all matters of utensils to fill the silence," Morpheus mused faintly. "It kept them from going mad."

Them. Humans. Hob wondered how long it would take Morpheus to see himself as one. Never, perhaps. He struggled to see himself as other than what he was, originally. The only difference between them was that Hob had considerably benefited from the change. For Morpheus, this was hardly a step-up. It was free falling.

There was an urge there, lodged deep into Hob's chest, to reach for Morpheus' hand, to hold him close, to offer him all the reassurance he could provide and then more. But Morpheus was not there yet. This human body ached, Hob knew it. It was new, unused, unacclimated to the world it had been thrown into. It looked every way the body he knew, the one he'd touched, loved, held, once. Not quite, though.

"We could buy you a white noise machine," Hob suggested lightly, pushing down the emotion down his throat. He was here, safe, it was all that mattered, in the end. Hob just needed to be patient.

Morpheus frowned, confused.

"It's a box that makes noise. Some people use it to fall asleep."

There was a huff, and the first hint of a smile on Morpheus' lips since their encounter with the Fates.

"Of course you people fashioned a noise machine."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Hob smiled, purposefully stirring the conversation towards a lighter territory. "Whale songs might be just what you need."

"I doubt it will suffice."

In spite of Hob's best efforts, Morpheus' playfulness was short-lived. His face closed again, returning to its persisting melancholy. Hob leant towards him, inching closer, assessing his lover's reaction, any sign of recoiling.

"What's wrong?"

"I fear I may not be... welcome to the Dreaming."

The admission rolled out of him like a wound, bloody and raw, almost shameful. Hob furrowed his brows.

"You're afraid Daniel may not grant you entry?"

"No, I..."

Morpheus gave out a faint frustrated sigh.

"It is no longer mine to rule. Dream of the Endless endures, outside of me. Perhaps I do not... belong there. My presence could be ill-received."

"Love, I―" Hob bit the inside of his cheek, trying to find the words that would hurt the least. "You will have to sleep at some point. That's... I'm sorry, but that's part of... this."

"I know."

In the darkness, Hob could have sworn he saw a tear trail down Morpheus' cheek, glistening in the light of a nearby street lamp.

"I'm sure Daniel will go easy on you. He's a good kid."

Was a good kid, Hob reminded himself. Daniel was an empty name now. There was no more Daniel Hall. Not really. Dream was what remained.

"It is a terrible fate I have delivered onto him," Morpheus countered weakly. "It would be fair on his part to torment me for it."

"Morpheus."

Unable to help himself, Hob rested his hand atop Morpheus'. His skin was warmer than usual, he noticed. Human. Instead of pulling away, Morpheus leant towards him, almost nuzzling against his shoulder.

"I have never fallen asleep," he confided softly. "Never dreamt. Not once."

It had always felt odd to Hob that Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, did not sleep. How scary it must be, for someone who had never done it, to surrender yourself to the hand of another, in your most vulnerable state. Scary enough to leave the bed and avoid sleep altogether.

"I could hold you," Hob suggested gently. "Whatever happens in the Dreaming, it can't harm you here, can it?"

"No. Not really."

Not the most reassuring answer. Nor the clearest. Vagueness was a Morpheus trait, then, not a Dream trait. Good to know.

"I would like that. You, holding me."

"Come here, love."

It happened slowly, inch by inch, but Morpheus nestled into Hob's arms, resting his head in the crook of Hob's neck. Hob could feel his breath blowing against his skin, warm, regular, vital. It was odd, but far from unwelcome. More new than anything else.

"How does it happen? Do I merely close my eyes and wait?"

"Essentially. There is a relaxation aspect to it, though."

Clearly something Morpheus had no experience with either, considering how tense he felt against him.

"You could... breathe with me."

"Breathe with you?"

The suggestion sounded ridiculous in Morpheus' mouth, but Hob was not so easily deterred.

"Yeah, just... just humour me."

It was difficult, at first, for Morpheus to follow the rhythm of Hob's breathing. He was going either too fast or too slow, as though breathing did not come naturally to him, which, in fairness, it did not. It was a conscious effort, every time. After a few minutes of off-beat inhales and exhales, they came to a harmony, their chests rising and falling in tandem. Morpheus had only been pretending to sleep earlier, Hob understood. He could see it now, from the way his face truly relaxed, how his body became more pliant in his arms. If he was not fully asleep, he was getting there, at last.

Hob smiled at the sight, pressing his cheek against his lover's forehead. He could feel Morpheus' pulse where he held him, strong, regular, and undeniably human. Yet no less the man he loved, in spite of the changes.

"Sweet dreams, dear heart."

He raised his eyes to the ceiling, knowing full well there was no one to hear, and no one listening, but he could not help but add:

"Let him rest, will you? I don't think he's ever done that in his life. Might as well start this one with something new."