#Dream x OFC

[ohraicodoll]

Possession | Chapter 1

Chapters:  1/5 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Complicated Relationships, General complicated feelings, Dream is an IDIOT, they both have baggage, Past Relationships, Angst, OFC: Dahlia,1st POV Summary: In which Morpheus has a temper, jealousy is a problem, and past relationships never stay in the past. 3rd in the Fragments Series  | Read on AO3 Writing Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5  Previous in Series: Touch Starved Next in Series: Interwoven

CHAPTER 1:  Being Clever Never Got Me Very Far

( General warnings for this chapter: sexual content, toxic relationships, mentions of abuse)

Balancing the waking world and the Dreaming remained a challenge and one that Lord Morpheus wasn’t making any easier. Despite his admonishments about the negative impacts of Dream Walking on my everyday life, he had effectively shoved that under the rug now that he had me to himself every night. It was hard to focus on keeping up mundane things like a job and bills and friendships when at night you could travel anywhere and see anything plus had an immortal being driving you nuts in the best possible way. The vibrant colors of the waking world, revitalized by meeting Dream, had started to gray again and I was having to force myself to keep to normal sleeping hours and not waste the day away. The laundry was piling up, dishes needed to be done, and I needed to do something with myself. As much as I wished he would, I rarely saw Morpheus outside of dreams as he was still working on rebuilding his realm and attending to his duties. Occasionally, he would meet me at the café he’d surprised me at so long ago, both when I thought he was going to kill me and after our first time together. I had to get over my awkwardness at being the only one to eat, but he drank coffee and would tell me about the lives of the people that walked passed. He knew their dreams just by looking at them and in turn, knew their lives. My mind wandered to Lucienne’s library, to my small book kept there and its blank pages. Maybe that was part of his fascination with me, that he didn’t know my life. Everything was nice. It wasn’t healthy to be around each other 24/7 afterall and he had a job to do, same as me. Just on vastly different scales. Besides, he had no obligation to see me. We were casual lovers, or fuck buddies as I had deemed us crudely once, something he took offense to but didn’t necessarily argue against. He craved affection even if he didn’t say so with words. My need to be around him was just the newness of it, that constant pull to be next to him and touch him. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that lacked any sort of commitment. Dream of the Endless had seen all there was, had existed longer than most of the stars. It was hard not to be enraptured by that. So I forced myself to be good with what I got. It would fade and I would be able to be more productive, balance things better. I had begun to write again or attempt to, with Lucienne’s encouragement that my work was good. I had a lot of mental and emotional blocks when it came to writing, ones I didn’t want to get into yet, and I was grateful to have support both in the waking world and the Dreaming. More effort was put into my job at the book publisher, taking on more responsibilities in the hope that when I did have something decent I could show them. I even let Anissa, my coworker, take me to after work drinks though I suspect it was mostly an attempt to get me to spill the details on Morpheus or to get me to date one of our coworkers. She had been the one to encourage having some “fun” after my breakup and I was very bad at hiding that I had, in fact, followed that advice. Just not in the way she suspected. Things were okay. They were fine. But it was only a matter of time before our own hang ups would begin to surface. My life, my history, was unknown to him and I was a bit grateful. I’m not sure how I would feel if he knew everything about me and I knew hardly anything from him. It also meant he couldn’t see all the baggage there. We both had it. He had said he had had past relationships, obviously from being eons old, had told me about Killala that first talk while comparing cheating exes. Had bonded over mutual pain and disrespect. But beyond that, the details of our lives remained blank to each other. Stories and nothing more. I should have noticed when I saw maintenance go in and out of my neighbor Janine’s apartment that she had moved out. She had downright started avoiding me at all costs after I caught her in my bed with my then boyfriend, Thomas. The same boyfriend whose dream I then went into and broke one of the rules, smashing everything to bits and causing Morpheus to find me for the first time. I guess I should have thanked her for the introduction if she wasn’t a miserable hag. I’d seen her dreams, seen the countless escapades she had all the while knowing they were attached and she didn’t care. If she had wanted Thomas, she could have him. But now, I was mostly relieved that she was finally gone and I could walk through the hallway of my complex with ease. Coming home after work, my neck ached from stress and I towed off my shoes at the door, dropping my bag to the ground in a heap. Taking on more responsibilities at work meant my brain was mush by the time I made the walk home and it was a lesson in focus to not just daydream the day away. I had the whole weekend ahead though which meant I didn’t have to set an alarm and could stay in the Dreaming however long I wanted. It sounded divine after the stressful week I had. I was finally getting the hang of Dream Walking after a few more actual lessons from Morpheus, though he still loved to distract me. I was even getting better at doing it without using doors, even if my aim wasn’t always accurate and I had to bounce around a few times. If the dreamlord wasn’t with me, I still liked to imagine them because it was easier on my brain. Tonight I was going to explore more of the Dreaming beyond just Morpheus’ chambers and he could come along or mope on his own. A knock sounded at the door just as I was about to change out of my work dress, causing me to pause. No one ever came to visit. The number of friends I had could be counted on one hand, I had no family, and no one I knew made unexpected social calls. Frowning, I padded quietly over to the door and stood on my toes to look through the peephole at whoever was knocking. Maybe maintenance got the wrong door or something. You gotta be fucking kidding me. Thomas stood there, brown hair disheveled and button up shirt wrinkled. Even through the tiny window, he looked pathetic and I was almost certain it was on purpose. He liked to be prim and proper, even outside of work, unless he wanted something. The man had hardly ever had anything bad happen to him so he liked to play at being a victim whenever he could. It was mind boggling now, two months later, that I had stayed with him for over a year. “Then why did you stay with him?” Morpheus’ words bounced back in my head. Because he wasn’t the worst. Because he was interested in me. Because I was dumb and lonely and he made the world colorful at least for a bit. But even looking back now, that color paled in comparison to anything I felt now. I had blocked him from everything after waking up from his dream, the image of the King of Dreams sitting in the corner of an imagined bar after I had smashed everything to bits still fresh. Thomas had tried to reach out, though not very hard, but I ignored him and even when he showed up to my workplace, reception had shooed him away. It wouldn’t have surprised me if his attention had then turned to Janine and now that she was gone, most likely kicking him to the curb, here he was. I chewed on my lip, debating what I should do. Knocks reverberated through the door again, louder this time and I winced. “Dahlia, please, I know you’re in there,” his muffled voice shouted through the wood. I groaned inwardly. Fuck, if Matthew had been keeping an eye on him or me still then he at least could had warned me Thomas was coming. He knocked again and I knew my neighbors were going to get curious if he kept it up. “Dahl, please. Just hear me out!” Thomas shouted, a pathetic edge to his voice. I wanted to slam my head into the door, bemoaning my luck. Bracing myself, I sighed and unlocked the door, opening it only partly and blocking the view into the apartment. “What?” I bit out with pressed lips and annoyance painting my face. The guy looked worse closer up, shirt a mess and eyes a little bloodshot. He also reeked of booze which sent my body on high alert instantly. Anxiety and fear, old and familiar, sank into my bones. “Please,” he repeated, taking a step towards the door, “Can I come inside so we can talk?” “No,” I crossed my arms and leaned against the door jam, teeth clenched. My patience with him was thin and after time apart, my backbone had strengthened again. I had put up with a lot, hadn’t screamed or raged in his face when I had caught him naked in my bed. He was lucky that all I did was smash his dream, which I’m sure he had no recollection of. “Dahl-” “I’m sorry, you don’t get to ask for anything from me,” the growl that left my throat cut him off, eyes slightly wide at the tone, “You can say what you want to say here or I can shut the door in your face and you can leave.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He had never dealt with this side of me. Most arguments between us I had let slide, not feeling up to putting in the effort and letting him get his way. It was always easier than to fight, a lesson I had learned a long time ago. But it had fueled his ego and he thought me to be small and docile. That part I was willing to claim was my fault, but now- now I had teeth and I wasn’t afraid to bare them. “I’m sorry,” Thomas started, “What I did was selfish and awful and I am an asshole.” “A few months late, but so far not arguing against that,” I commented, glaring. “I miss you, Dahl,” he pressed on and stepped even closer, only a foot away now, “Please, I want us to work-” “No you don’t,” I cut him off. The indignation was plain on my face as I sneered at him, “You made your choice, Thomas. There is no working it out. You fucked another person in my home and are barely putting in the effort to apologize now? You’re not sorry, you just want me to be your safety net because you thought I was a pushover.” That barely concealed anger was in his eyes and he shoved a hand through his shaggy hair, “That’s not true. I love you-” “Oh get the fuck out of here with that bullshit,” I scoffed, finally fed up with wasting my time and hearing the crap pouring out of his mouth, I moved to shut the door. But his foot shot out, blocking the way, and before I could process it he had pushed into the apartment and shut the door behind him. The movement had been fast, calculated, and I cursed myself for even opening the door and not just calling security to kick him out. Even though he smelled of alcohol, his motor functions were still sharp and I should have made sure my guard stayed up. I knew better. Now my heart was hammering and I stepped back, putting space between us as he blocked the door. My mind tried to run through a dozen different scenarios, strategies, paths to either get him out or get away. There was pepper spray in my bag, I could run for it or the bedroom and lock myself in, under the couch was a baseball bat I kept just in case. He was drunk and could never take no for an answer and I should have been more aware. Thomas raised his hands like he was calming a riled horse, placating but voice desperate, “I only want to talk, you won’t let me talk! Please, you need to hear me out.” “I don’t have to do anything, Thomas,” my voice was steady but firm, one foot sliding behind me so I could pivot for the bedroom if I needed to, “You are going to get the fuck out of my apartment. Now.” “Stop, Dahlia, I want you back!” Though he was pleading, his hands clenched and unclenched and annoyance vibrated through him at my continual refusal, “I’m not leaving until you listen.” His eyes were wild and I knew he was on that edge of being reasonable or doing something we both may regret. Men like him didn’t consider consequences because they had never experienced them and that made him dangerous. I felt the slight breeze first before the ripple of power swelled over my skin, blanketing it and wrapping me in its first embrace while blazing through the room in hot fury. I didn’t have to turn to look behind me to know Morpheus was standing there, anger coming off him in waves and presence darkening the doorway. My breath caught in my throat. I had only ever felt his actual anger once, in the nightmare where we finally confronted each other. It had been all encompassing, those black eyes piercing right into my soul and stars bright enough it could burn me away. I watched hesitantly as a bit of fear entered Thomas’ eyes at last and though I knew I shouldn’t, I felt satisfaction at seeing it there. The Dream King entered the room from the bedroom where he definitely had not been a few minutes ago and stepped quietly next to me, hand brushing mine and long black coat grazing my legs from his proximity. Too close to be casual, definitely not after leaving my bedroom, and a clear outward sign of who he was to me. Thomas tried to hold his ground and kept his chin raised but I could see the tension there as he looked back and forth between us and took him in. The brown haired man didn’t stack up, could never compare. Morpheus was a storm at my side, voice quiet but powerful, “You will leave, Thomas McNara. Now.” I resisted the urge to look up at him, could easily feel the building anger he was holding back the longer my ex didn’t do as he commanded. He was dangerous, a volcano ready to devastate, and it was all targeted at one person. But Thomas was never the smartest and was too dumb to know when to back down. Brown eyes swiveling back to me, he scoffed and scrunched up his face incredulously, “Are you serious, Dahl? This is who you got with-” The one step forward the dreamlord took was enough to cut him off, the air growing thin in the room as Dream advanced and snarled, “Keep silent. You have ignored every word she has spoken, disrespected her, and entered her home uninvited. You are pitiful.” Morpheus glared down at him, blue eyes dark as he looked down his nose at the human whose bravado was crumpling by the second. Energy crackled and in that moment, even in the waking world, he looked every bit the ancient, powerful being that he was. Thomas could see it then, that he had drawn the attention of something that was far greater than he could ever imagine and had its ire. “I have seen your dreams, Thomas McNara,” the Lord of Dreams hissed and took another step towards him, “You treat women as toys and want what you cannot have. I assure you, she is not yours to possess and never will be again. Leave now and count yourself lucky I am being merciful for her sake for I could do far, far worse . ” Thomas’ brown eyes almost flicked to mine but he kept himself from looking at me, face pale with fear and sweat sliding down his temple. One step, then two, and he backed away to the apartment door and left, fumbling along the way and tripping out the door into the hallway. The door shut with a loud bang that echoed through the space. The tension didn’t immediately leave now that we were alone. Dream was a bow string pulled too tight, threatening to unleash at any moment. I swallowed hard and reminded my brain that the rage was in my defense and not directed at me. I didn’t have anything to fear from him, but I had never dealt with this kind of anger easily. I blinked and it was someone else standing in his stead, fists clenched tight and eyes drilling holes into my skin as if he could skin me alive with just a look. I blinked again and the image melted away, leaving just the King of Dreams standing with his back to me with his coat so black it looked like the abyss. Taking a few deep breaths, I grounded myself and focused on what was happening now, trying to forget the brief flash of memory. With a few steps, Dream’s coat was within reach and I gently trailed my fingers down his shoulder and arm until cool skin met mine. He didn’t react at first, hands hanging at his side, but I slowly intertwined one hand with his and gave it a squeeze as I rested my cheek against his shoulder blades. In a breath, the tension slowly seeped from him and I hugged him fully from behind, able to breathe easier as his power pulled back into him and the air cleared. “Are you okay?” I asked into his coat, hand in his and the other wrapped tightly around his waist from behind. He was so thin, but lean muscles tensed along his back and under my cheek. He was always the one to wrap himself around me, so the change in stance was new and one I enjoyed. A dark chuckle left him and I could feel the reverberations through his back, “Am I not supposed to ask you that instead?” I hugged him tighter and felt comforted when his free hand caressed my arm gently and he sank into the touch, “I’m okay, I’m safe, nothing happened. I haven’t ever seen him that…crazed, but he was just drunk. Even if you didn’t show up, I could have gotten him out. But thank you for coming to defend my honor, your highness.” I made my tone as light as possible, joking in the hopes he would come down from his anger if he saw that I wasn’t freaking out. I could practically hear the thoughts churning in his mind, replaying the situation over and over again, but at last, he relaxed. Keeping my hand in his, he turned to face me and pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. I could see it now, the remnants of whatever Thomas had seen and feared. Though his eyes were still blue, the endless night sky peaked there, fathomless and encompassing and terrifying. His skin had paled to that marble tone he had in the Dreaming, lips pressed in a thin line. He looked like a god, glorious and terrible. My heart raced as I took him in and I found it hard to swallow, knowing that this otherworldly creature held interest in me, had come to make sure I was safe. “She is not yours to possess.” The words echoed through me as I stared at him, a complicated feeling bouncing around. He noticed brow furrowing and a hand coming to rest on my cheek, elegant pianist fingers brushing my bangs from my eyes, “I can recognize when something is troubling you. What is it?” I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to think. Our relationship was…strange. Seeing an anthropomorphic personification came with zero rules unlike every other relationship I’d been in. There was no talking about what we were, boundaries, commitments. Exclusivity. We’d simply gone along with it, letting attraction and desire lead us, but feelings were avoided. Feelings were going to remain avoided, but him coming and stepping in. That had been something. I realized it then that it wasn’t fully rage he had been feeling or that had caused him to bare his teeth at Thomas. It was possessiveness. “You said-” I swallowed, trying not to choke on the words, “you said I wasn’t his to have.” Those blue eyes of his had settled, becoming more human-like, but I could see the flash of want and apprehension there, “Was I wrong?” Despite my trepidation, heat pooled low in my belly at the tone, “I don’t know, you tell me.” He stepped closer, chest pressed against mine and hand trailing down from my cheek to lightly wrap around my neck. My heart beat loudly in my ears and my body was tingling, sensitive to each touch of his skin on mine and shooting lightning down my nerve endings. Possessiveness had always been a double edged sword for me. Too much was toxic, restricting, frightening. Had destroyed me one suspicious look at a time and caused so much pain. But on the other hand, I wanted to be Dream’s. Wanted to know that I had been deemed worthy enough of the Lord of Dreams’ attention and not only that, that he wanted me all to himself. His head lowered, nose skimming along mine and breath mingling there, “While you are your own person, little dreamer, and are free to do as you wish, I will warn you- I do not share.” The words were low and dark and trailed along my skin like the edge of a feather, making me swallow a moan. “I give you this choice now, Dahlia Morrowland, ” Morpheus continued, my name whispered along my lips as he tilted my chin up to meet his eyes under lowered lids, baring the long expanse of my neck, “If you wish to have other lovers, we can end this game now. You are welcome in the Dreaming, in my palace, and I will not fault you. I will not deny you my presence… but if you wish for us to continue, I am afraid I will not be able to help myself. You will be mine and mine alone.” I shivered at the dark promise, breath catching in a way I’m sure he knew. My skin felt tight and hot and all I could focus on was the simple loose wrap of his fingers on my neck like he was branding me. His words rattled through me, setting flame the parts of me I wished for him to touch. I managed to swallow and meet his gaze, the heady want there reflected in my own, “I’m not ending this. And just so you know, I don’t share either. You are mine, dreamlord, if you wish to be.” He smirked, the slightest tilt of his lips, at the declaration before tightening his grip on my neck and pulling me to him, lips crushing. It was his own answer, his own agreement. Yes, yes, he did wish for that. My hand left his and wrapped around his neck as I stood on my toes to reach him, tongue delving into his mouth and moaning into him. His own caressed mine, sucking and teasing while completely devouring me. Dream in the waking world was different than in the Dreaming. He was tangible, real, made of true flesh, tasting of honey and mint, and smelling of early morning rain. And for the first time, he was in my apartment. He was mine. Mine. And I was his and it felt like too much and not enough all at once. The Dream King trailed his hands to my thighs and in a quick move, lifted me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried my weight easily. The hard press of his arousal was against me and I gasped into his mouth as he pushed me against the wall, back jolting at the contact. He deepened the kiss, ravenous and impatient. It was a frenzy of teeth and lips, his mouth leaving mine to kiss his way down my neck as his lips sucked at the pulse there. His teeth bit gently and I moaned, heat shooting through me sharp and sudden. The skin would be dark and apparent tomorrow, I knew that, but something deep and primal was pleased at the mark. Let them see. My fingers ran through his hair, dark and soft, and lightly grazed my long nails along his scalp until he moaned against me to my satisfaction. I had learned that he loved the feel of nails scratching, the sharpness against his skin, and his head was extra sensitive. He rocked against me and I hissed at the feel of him against me, separated my layers of clothing. I unwrapped my legs from his waist and braced myself, hands going to his jeans to get them unbuttoned and off of him. His own hands went to the hem of my dress, squeezing my exposed thighs and finding my drenched underwear. I moaned loudly as he cupped my sex, savoring the arousal wetting the fabric there. Running fingers up and down the thin covering, I gasped and twitched at how sensitive I was already. I was trembling, fingers shaking as I finally got his pants free and pulled the zipper down. We were getting impatient, the real world limitations meaning he couldn’t just magic our clothes away. With a quick jerk, he ripped the panties off easily, dropping the scrap of fabric to the floor as I lowered his jeans and freed his pulsing erection from them. “Excuse you. I liked those,” I growled at him. My hand wrapped around his cock, pleased with the way he jerked into my hand and hissed out a moan under his breath. His skin was the texture of velvet, soft to the touch but hard in my hand, and I savored each delicious stroke and ragged breath that left Morpheus’ mouth. My mind could only focus on the feeling of him and the words mine, mine mine over again. “You can easily acquire more later, though wearing none around me would be preferred,” the dreamlord gritted out, fingers in my hair and clenching my thigh tightly as I moved my hand over him steadily. I smirked, watching his eyes close against my ministrations, thumb rubbing the tip of his erection and sliding the precum there over him, “You going to buy me some with your fake money?” My palm squeezed him and a moan slid from his mouth, raw and wanting. He turned his head and his lips met mine in a frantic rush, tongue warring and fighting for dominance. Impatient, Dream pulled my hand off of him and gripped my thigh, lifting it around his waist and sheathing into me in one fast thrust. There was no foreplay, no slow build. The move was quick and hard, an edge of pain tingeing it at the feeling of him, large and buried to his base suddenly filling me. I was tight around him, each glorious inch filling me completely. The pain faded quickly though it only served to amplify the pleasure, as he pressed me firmly against the wall and fucked me hard. The angle was delectable, hitting the perfect spot inside me every time, and I couldn’t  stop the cries that poured from my lips as he pulled out almost fully then rammed back in. I could only hang on. He still wore his coat and shirt, both of us not even fully unclothed, and my nails dug into the fabric. Feeling the friction of his clothes against my sensitive skin heightened the pleasure while my own skirt was pushed up around my waist. He grunted with each desperate thrust, lips against my throat as he bit and sucked and tasted my skin. The brink of my orgasm was coming fast as I drowned in the rapture and ecstasy, body pulsing and clenching around him. He went harder, faster, pouring all his want and possessiveness into me. Each hard thrust branded my skin with the word mine , each kiss claiming, and each mark on my body a sign that I was with the King of Dreams and would be his alone. It should have scared me, having this type of attention from someone like him. It had scared me with lesser men. I had bucked and thrashed against the possessiveness before, had feared it, but with him I drank it down. Because even as he claimed me, he willingly let me claim him as well, offered himself up to me as equals. And so I wrapped my arms tight around him, rode the waves of my orgasm as it crashed into me and ripped his name from my mouth. Stars exploded behind my eyes, nebulas swarming, and I felt like I was floating in a storm I had no control of. He followed soon, giving a final hard thrust before releasing into me with a groan. His lips still lingered on my skin and sweat clung to both of us, the straps of my dress askew and his collar half upturned from my grabbing. We both looked completely and thoroughly fucked and at that thought, I couldn’t help but laugh. The reaction caused my body to clench around him and he grunted into my skin. Dream’s fingers soothed the skin of my thigh before helping me to lower it from his waist, both of us unable to keep from letting out a small groan as the movement shifted our sensitive bodies. It pleased me that I wasn’t the only one with a worn out body. His gaze met mine with a raised brow, skin now a warmer shade and eyes settled. I just grinned at him, wide and unrestrained, tongue between my teeth, “Hi.” With a quirk of his lips light-heartedly and something like affection gentling his face, he replied softly, “Hello.” I gave him a tender kiss, lips dragging against his and savoring their taste, before pulling back, “I guess we can cross off having sex for the first time in the waking world off the list. Along with wall sex. Very efficient work, your highness, good job.” Caught between amusement and confusion, furrowed his brow quizzically, “A list, little dreamer?” Giving a half-hearted shrug, I smiled up at him, “Less a list, more like ideas.” Morpheus’ eyes darkened and I could almost feel him hardening inside me. I knew then that I was doomed. Because there was nothing the Lord of Dreams liked more than a challenge and he was more than willing to make sure we thoroughly explored all those ideas of mine along with a few of his. The evening was spent in my apartment as he claimed me over and over again, worshiping every part of me and leaving no part of me unmarked. And I did the same in turn. I didn’t know what it meant fully as we didn’t discuss feelings or what being with each other meant, but I was okay with what I did know and what I was given. That would be something to think about later.

[capypub]

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless (DCU/Sandman) Masterlist

The Games We Play (18+) Imagine

“Is this what you wanted, little one?” he questioned slowly, softly, against her neck, feeling the goosebumps form under his lips, “Has your misbehavior been the result of needing your Master’s hand?” he continued, feeling how her body tensed and twitched as he spoke.

Patience, Little One (18+) Imagine

Morpheus returns to his witch lover… (aka shameless, soft smut)

[for3verurs-cephy]

some seb xreaders for you :D

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57364990/chapters/145932370 https://archiveofourown.org/works/57470614/chapters/146215636 https://archiveofourown.org/works/57388315 https://archiveofourown.org/works/55806511

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57365578

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57365170

Come here im gonna give you a platonic kissy filled with appreciation guys get yall’s juice

[chrissdollie]

meet my little!readers !!!

100% completely SFW + INNOCENT!! dont interact if ur a weirdo or dont like.

bunny ˶ ♡ ∘ * 🍡🌸˚ ˳ (lowk self inserted..) my little pony, bluey, pink milkshakes, sanrio themed lip balms, pretty pink dresses, hello kitty cafe on roblox, frilly pink socks, candy necklaces,

so sweet nd gentle! fidgets the most out of them all as she has an oral fixation. which is why you'll always see her with a candy necklace that her cg bought for her instead of sucking on her thumb (or his). most absent minded out of everyone else too, she likes having matt/chris think for her!! she simply wants to draw in her hello kitty coloring books, watch bluey, eat far too much ice cream, and play with her favorite person! nothing else <3 her nose twitches a lot when she's sad, little tears dropping out of her eyes. and bunny hardly ever gets angry, but when she does, her foot stamps a LOT! arms folded, eyebrows aggressively furrowed, and a mean pout on her face.

kitty ˶ ♡ ∘ * 🎀🍩˚ ˳ shiny jewelry, monster high, knee high striped socks, lalaloopsy dolls, black pleated skirts,

definitely the brattiest of them all!! will whine and complain until she gets her way. bats her gorgeous long lashes too! lovess horror/creepy stuff (even tho matt/chris don't want her watching that kind of stuff..) as stubborn and sassy as she is, she loves cuddling up with her cg to fall asleep while watching tim burton movies on her ipad!! she also adores playing dress up + doing her cg's makeup against their will hehe. has a big collection of dolls but is very cautious about how she plays with them. you see, she won't touch their hair or take off their clothes at any time. she makes sure her cg knows these rules too-- otherwise he'll definitely get scratched.

puppy ˶ ♡ ∘ * 🥛˚ ˳ white lace curtains, converse, overalls, bubble baths, animal lover, buttons, watercolors, band-aids, fluffy blankets, frilly socks

definitely the shyest of them all, but can be very hyper + playful when comfy! sweetest little angel, always cudding her stuffies and convincing her cg to buy her more with big puppy eyes! loves going outside + playing in the grass in her dirt covered overalls :( other than playing around, she hates sports!! well-- she likes them and thinks they're fun until she trips and gets a booboo. then it's time to go inside. her hobbies include baking (with her cg's help ofc!), painting, building legos, and riding her scooter!!

tags <33

@star-sturn @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee @freshsturns @emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668 @joanofarcily @mattscoquette @slutsturn @imsosillygoofylol @sturnioloremarker @ashley9282828 @jnkvivi @sturncakez @lanasturn @riasturns @st7rnioioss @mattsfavbigtitties @mattttypooh @mattsbrowser @sierrraaaasturn @leah-loves-lilies @1everythingmustgo @r6diosturns @blahbel668 @chrissturnsss @jnkvivi @lanasturn @riasturns @strnlxlqve @starlace111 @stvrlighht @harrys-whorecrux

[yutaparadise]

texting your bf haechan ♡

．．．AND SCENE! part two of baby’s first argument!! please read part 1 first or you’ll be confused :] you don’t have to read it but it is now your recipe and not mine

warnings: hyuck is pathetic and laying it on extremely thick, (1) dick joke, there’s a grammatical error but don’t point it out or ill cry and start tweaking like this

[yuwuta]

Wow I have been nonstop thinking about tennis king yuuta and his little baby boy I’m going to kill you (affectionate) - @yuutito

teeheeeeeeeee….. here’s some more, aleks :’) enjoy :))))))

“Everybody thinks he looks like me, but I don’t see it that way. Maybe it’s because every time I look at him, I see my wife and I’m reminded of her […] I’m a little biased so I see her in everything.” 

You find yourself with tears welling in your eyes the more you read into Yuuta’s latest magazine interview. Between his sweet quotes and the pictures of him with your son, it’s taking everything in you not to burst into full-blown tears. 

Your boys look so handsome. You and Yuuta shared your concerns with publicizing your child at such a young age, but you two came to the conclusion that you’d rather have the control in the narrative than to let private family pictures be leaked uncontrollably. As another point of reassurance, Yuuta’s career provided him with just enough lime-light to be a household name without the crazy fame and criticism that came along being a true celebrity. Besides—Yuuta talked enough about you and your son in press conferences and interviews that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. 

The article wasn’t entirely about you, or your family—or at least, you’re sure it wasn’t intended to be; you knew your husband had a knack for rambling about his loved ones, even where work was concerned. As you continue to read, you find a segment where the author compared Yuuta’s current statements with something similar he’d said about you twelve years ago—at the very start of his professional career: “If I owe this [winning Gold] to anybody, it’s my girlfriend. She’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. I wouldn’t have qualified or even thought to qualify if it weren’t for her.” 

It feels like you and Yuuta were just two kids in love back then. You didn’t think it could be more than that—you didn’t think you could love Yuuta more than you did all those years ago, but somewhere along the way just being in love wasn’t enough to describe it; Yuuta became your partner, someone you loved fundamentally, but also because you couldn’t stand to see yourself without him. And just when you thought you couldn’t love anyone nearly as much as you love him, you turn the page to a picture of your husband and son peeping through the holes of a racket and your heart feels full. 

When you scan the image more closely, you realize that it isn’t just any racket—it’s an old one, one you’d given to Yuuta as a gift probably back in high-school. You had no idea he’d kept it, but you suppose you shouldn’t be all that surprised; Yuuta is nothing if not sentimental. 

“Ah, there she is~” Yuuta’s voice cuts through your thoughts. When you turn, you see him, with your baby boy on his hip, sliding the back porch door closed. 

Both boys approach you with a smile on your face, and you set the magazine aside to sit up in the lounge chair to greet them. Yuuta presses a kiss to your forehead, then your lips before you do the same to your son. Immediately after, he reaches his arms out for you, and Yuuta chuckles, “You wanna be with your mama? Can’t blame you, I missed her, too.” 

He hands the baby off to you, and takes a seat on the other end of the chair, reaching over to coo at his son as you smother his face in kisses. 

“How was the farmer’s market?” you question, letting the baby settle into your lap. 

“Good, he picked out some very bright peppers, and we got some more strawberries, know you’ve been craving them,” Yuuta smiles, reaching over to pat your son’s head, when the closed magazine catches his eye, and he reaches for it, quickly flipping through, “Ah—I guess that interview’s out. He’s grown so much, even though it was only a few months ago.” 

You find the blush on his cheeks beyond endearing. Yuuta always finds room to be bashful no matter how many times he’s waxed poetic about his love for you, or his family—his cheeks always stain pink like the first day you met him. 

“It’s sweet. You’re sweet,” you smile, sparing a hand to run through Yuuta’s hair, charmed by the way he leans into your touch, “I didn’t know you still had that racket.” 

“Of course, I keep everything you give me,” he says, earnestly. He closes the magazine and scoots a little closer, taking advantage of the proximity and of your touch to lay his head on your shoulder, “Did you… read all of it?” 

“Almost, but no, why?” you question, with a light-hearted grin, “Did you say something that would lead the world to believe you’re somehow even more in love with me? Because you might already be past the threshold, dear.” 

Yuuta hums. He reaches to take you son out of your lap and carefully shifts himself to that he’s laying down, his head on your lap, and the baby in his arms, happily giggling and cooing as Yuuta holds him up. He lowers and raises him back and forth a few times, nuzzling their noses together when their faces are close, before sitting him up on his chest.

Then he tilts his head up to look at you, wide, love-filled eyes blinking slowly before he says, “Maybe… depends on if me saying I want more kids is past the threshold or not.” 

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love? Masterlist

Only four chapters posted and I am losing track, so here you can find it all so you don't get lost!

You can catch all that I'ver written in my AO3

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Angst, eventual smut, mildly dubious consent, denial of feelings, slow burn, emotional hurt/comfort, regency romance, strangers to lovers, think like a marriage story, falling In love, loss of virginity, masturbation, extramarital affairs

What dreams know about love? (+18)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 (+18)

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 (+18)

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

[ifisawyoueverydayforeverwill]

Y'ALL NEED TO SEE THIS PANEL

[maydaydiaz]

whoever came up with the theory that they were paralleling previous calls might be onto something?? we’ve had the pool, a wedding, a fire, the roof and now a prison? au episode where eddie relives moments with buck but he knows he’s in love with him in that universe and that’s how he realises his feelings in reality

[ohraicodoll]

Possession | Chapter 2

Chapters:  2/5 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Complicated Relationships, General complicated feelings, Dream is an IDIOT, they both have baggage, Past Relationships, Angst, OFC: Dahlia,1st POV

Summary: Could the Lord of Dreams ever really be claimed? What was a human to a goddess?

3rd in the Fragments Series  | Read on AO3 Writing Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5  Previous in Series: Touch Starved Next in Series: Interwoven Chapter Warning: Trauma response, mentions of domestic abuse CHAPTER 2:  LIKE THE STARS CHASE THE SUN

Nothing immediately registered as different upon my entering the Dreaming. Morpheus wasn’t present at first, but it wasn’t a big deal. I’d gotten better at taking myself around the Dream Realm on my own and he was usually somewhere in the Heart of the Dreaming, doing work, or somewhere nearby. It wasn’t that hard to find him, especially once he knew I was there. He always found me, no matter how busy he was. What did feel different was the way the palace felt a little emptier, that static charge of electricity I always felt around the Lord of the Realm curiously lesser. There was an absence to the halls, the colors just a tone less bright. The palace staff usually milled around, used to my presence at this point, but I hardly ran into any of them. The throne room lay empty, the long stone room feeling cold and barren even under the churning sky of chaotic raw dream power. The shores at the edge of the realm where Dream usually crafted new dreams and nightmares were gray and still. His chambers were blank and bare without him. I couldn’t find him and he wasn’t finding me, which was the first sign that something was off. A sharp stab of anxiety peaked before I shoved it down. I entered the library, navigating the maze-like walkways and levels to where I knew the tables and desks Lucienne liked to work at always were. The aisles converged into a crossroads, a large statue of Morpheus looking over the room and cathedral painting on the ceiling. Books piled on the table, some on a cart waiting to get put away, but it mostly seemed like a project halfway through completion. Lucienne and Merv were going over something at one of the tables, not noticing my approach while having a hushed conversation that seemed tense. It wasn’t until I was nearly at the edge of the table did they jump at my sudden appearance, caught and looking nervously between each other. I noted it, adding it to the growing list of weird things that were happening. “Hey, where’s Dream? I’ve been all over the place and haven’t been able to find him yet,” I asked the librarian, knowing she would know something out of everyone in the realm, glancing between the two and their tense forms. Mervyn chewed on a cigar, pumpkin eyes squinting nervously and ash raining down on the floor, “Uh, he’s out.” My brow raised, “Out?” Lucienne sent him a sharp glare, eyes saying something I wasn’t privy to, before turning to me, “What he means is Lord Morpheus is taking care of a matter in the Waking world. He should be back…at some point.” He was in the Waking? My eyes narrowed. It wasn’t often he had something to take care of there as he’d been more focused on getting the Dreaming situated, much less without telling me. Every time he had he’d made the effort to appear and whisk me away to somewhere private. Not only that, but we had actually planned to meet up for once with a promise that he would show me the outer dream isles. It was rare he actually set plans for anything, much preferring to keep me in his room my entire visit. “What did he have to take care of?” I asked, confused, “I just came from there and he hasn't mentioned anything. We were supposed to meet.” Lucienne was shifting on her feet now, uncomfortable knowing that this wasn’t something she could easily play off, and that made me nervous in itself. Merv scratched the back of his pumpkin head, harrumphing and shrugged, “It wasn’t exactly planned, but listen, kid. The boss just had to run real quick. He’ll wrap up helping Calliope and as soon as that's done, he’ll be right back!” “Mervyn,” Lucienne hissed, eyes wide and berating. I could see the woman next to me wince as the words sank in. Calliope? A sinking feeling was starting to hit, mixing with something like bitterness and nausea, “Whose Calliope?”

Merv realized his slip up, far less skilled at knowing what to say than this friend, and his carved face grimaced. “Oh, shit,” the pumpkinhead grumbled.

The librarian very much was going into damage control, hand gently resting on my arm as she tried to quickly divert my attention to her and away from the custodian worker, “Perhaps you’d like to wait for Lord Morpheus in the throne room-” “Whose Calliope, Lucienne?” I bit out the words, pulling away and wrapping my arms around myself. Dream had never mentioned dealing with other humans really, besides a man that he said he meets at a pub every now and then. But never a woman, that I would remember. In the same way he had branded me as his, I felt the tight coils of jealousy as the thought of mine, mine, mine rang through me. It didn’t feel like this was a normal situation, a nothing meeting that was inconsequential. We had plans and he had ditched them to help this person without even telling me or having Matthew tell me. Lucienne and Mervyn both knew who they were. That wasn’t nothing. Especially with how these two were acting. Lucienne glared at Merv from the corner of her eyes and sighed, wincing, “It is a complicated situation and one I would prefer my lord explain fully to you. But-” she caught me off as I opened my mouth to protest, “- I understand that you wish for at least some answers. Calliope is one of the nine muses and as well as Lord Morpheus’ former wife. She called for aid and he is currently helping her with a situation.” My body froze, heart screeching to silence as it clanged through me like a bullet ricocheting. Former wife. Wife. Wife. The word stabbed through me, painful and sharp, hurting in a way I didn’t want to completely analyze and hadn’t expected to feel. He had a wife, or used to, but he had been married all the same. It was a hard concept to wrap my head around, something that seemed so average to other people but he was anything but average. He was an Endless, beyond the normal conventions. Yet he had loved someone enough to marry them before, had loved this Calliope enough to make her his wife. And he’d run off, bailed on me, to go help her. The thought felt like acid on my tongue, acrid and painful. “He’s helping his wife in the Waking world,” I mumbled, the words sounding dead and eyes unseeing. “Ex-wife!” Merv tried to correct helpfully, “And it’s not like he still loves her or anything, girlie, probably just cause he feels bad about how shit ended between them! Cause oh boy was that a mess, the realm was in a state for years! I mean with what happened with their kid and everything-” My head whipped towards him as Lucienne let out a sharp curse under her breath, “Their kid?” Everything felt like it had turned upside down and I couldn’t understand. Yes, we had never talked about past relationships beyond the one from each of us. He had said he’d had past relationships but he didn’t talk about any of them and I didn’t ask. It was a line into territory that felt shaky, uncertain. Beyond fooling around and enjoying each other’s company. But this felt like something he should have mentioned, something I thought he would have divulged. Or maybe I was thinking too highly of what we were and our relationship. After all, when had he willingly shared anything personal about himself of his own accord? I hadn’t told him about Aiden, why would he tell me about Calliope? About their child? His child. What did I even know about him? “I’m gonna just go,” Merv pointed behind him, backing up cautiously as I stared at him with wide eyes, “I’ll catch ya later, Loosh.” “Mervyn-” I called, but Lucienne grabbed my arm a bit more tightly to draw my attention back, letting the dream escape into the bowels of the library. “Yes, they do have a son, but I highly recommend you do not mention him,” her brown eyes stared me down, apprehension and warning in them, “ Lord Morpheus will be back soon, I promise you. Just please do not jump to any conclusions and let him explain things.” My heart was thundering in my head, my brain completely scrambled. I could only nod, pulling back from her grasp but not really seeing anything. The words Calliope, wife, and son were ricocheting through my mind and thoughts, warring with the challenging declaration of mine. I felt numb and sick. Without saying anything, I pulled myself through the Dreaming, blinking and disappearing into Dream’s chambers. Morpheus didn’t owe me anything. Yes, while we were technically exclusive, I think, we weren’t together. He didn’t owe me a history of lovers, explanations on his whereabouts, anything. He wasn’t human, wasn’t really a man. He was the embodiment of stories and dreams and ageless. I was a blink in the span of his life, a mere entertainment. Just a human. One of the nine muses. A goddess. I sat on the edge of his bed, one that he didn’t need but had made for us, and waited in the dim light. He hadn’t changed it from the last time I saw it, curtains draped over all the walls and light catching through the thin gauzy fabric. An antique dining tray sat next to the bed and branches of trees grew through the walls, blossoms full and bright. But it felt empty, the beauty hollow, absent its creator. Time passed, though I’m not sure how long as the sun didn’t rise or fall normally. But I could almost feel the passage of night through my sleeping body, feel each tick of the clock as I waited and waited with only my spinning thoughts for company. The longer the wait, the more they tumbled down into darkness. Old scars surfaced, the memories pushing up like flowers from a grave. That feeling of abandonment, of jealousy, of not being enough. They spun and spun, telling me that I wasn’t worth the dreamlord’s time or attention. He obviously wasn’t thinking of me, hadn’t considered that I’d come looking or that we had plans. I felt dumb, pathetic, thinking that I was owed anything from a being as old as the universe. Why would he waste his time on me when someone more important had called him away? “You’re pathetic, you should be grateful for my attention.” He was the Prince of Stories, able to weave a narrative and make you believe anything. I was just the sucker. Hours passed. I thought about how this felt so similar to waiting by the phone, waiting for someone to call you only for it to never ring. Hoping you were on their mind, that they thought of you. That thought made it all feel worse.

The shadows shifted, my eyes staring blankly at my feet. The feeling of Dream’s power washed over me, caressing every inch of my skin. I watched his shoes come into view, the fire on the hem of his coat shifting and swirling almost into faces in the darkness. My heart stuttered and I smothered it, shoved down any feeling because it would hurt worse to hope only to be shattered. The soft touch of his fingers lifted my chin until I was staring into those starry eyes of his, a black pit against the paleness of his face and the shock of dark hair. His brow was furrowed and a small frown touched his lips, but he was closed off for the most part. I wondered if he was confused to see me, wondering why I was sitting in the darkness of his room waiting for him. Probably just realized I existed again. “Little dreamer,” he whispered and took in the heavy solemnness of my face, “Apologies, I did not intend to make you wait this night. I-” “Forgot?” I finished dryly, emotionless. Morpheus frowned even more, trying to take in my tone and the way I held myself. He could tell something was wrong, but couldn’t quite see the scope of it, “I did not forget. A matter I had to deal with took longer than I expected. It was not in my wishes to disregard you.” Bitterness twisted my insides and that kernel of anger that seemed to always be present, burning in the center of my being, couldn’t help but flare to life. I was jealous. I was hurt, mostly by myself because I had believed myself to be more important, less easily discarded. But that had always been my problem. I was so eager for affection, for feeling wanted, that I would take anything. I wanted to lash out, to buck against this feeling I had worked so hard to not feel again. “How’s Calliope?” the words slithered out of my mouth like a coiled serpent, thrashing and spitting in warning. And he froze, the words hitting home and his touch leaving my skin like he had been burned, as I finally shifted into being present and met his gaze fully. Icy heat crackled under my skin, burning and destroying in a reminder to myself. I knew then he wouldn’t have told me about her, about where he’d been, that he’d helped her. I was owed nothing, I never asked. We had never crossed that line until recently when Thomas had tried to claw back into my life. We had claimed each other and now were dealing with the consequences. The more you put in, the easier it is to hurt. “Who told you?” the dreamlord inquired softly, steel lacing his words and eyes hardening to obsidian. Indignation caused me to scoff, lips twisting down, “Usually asking who tattled on you that you were out with your ex-wife isn’t the best way to play off that nothing happened, just FYI.” He clenched his jaw, taking a step back further away from me that I was quick to note, and drew himself up, “You are misconstruing my words. Calliope called upon me for help, nothing more. She was in a similar situation as I once was and did not have anyone else to turn to. I would not leave her like that.” Similar situation. I swallowed, only knowing of one such situation he had been in, but wanting to be petty all the same. Yes, it seemed like a decent excuse and I wasn’t upset he had actually helped her but I had waited and waited, feeling small and insignificant. And that made me want to dismiss him, make him feel not worthy of a reaction. “Okay,” I shrugged, feigning indifference and the word bland. The twin stars in his eyes flashed red with annoyance at the dismissal, muscle ticking in his jaw, “I can taste your anger, little dreamer, do not try to hide it from me.” “I’m not angry,” I bit out harshly, “I’m…irritated and bitter that I didn’t even know you were married once and that I waited more than half the night not even hearing anything from you, only knowing you had ran off without a word to help your wife. Like what am I supposed to think, Morpheus?” The sky outside the window was darkening, the smell of rain on the wind. I stood from the bed, trying to give myself some height instead of craning my head up to meet his. His cloak was even more wild than usual, a shadow that wrapped around him and spread into the room like a living thing. Gone was the smirk and relaxed expression he wore when we usually were together. He was back to being the King of Nightmares, the figure I’d faced down in my dream months ago now. Nothing but hard lines and unearthly countenance. “I would trust you to know I would not betray you,” Morpheus bit out, “I do not take this between us as lightly or as flippantly as you believe I do. A long time ago, Calliope was my wife, yes. But that time has passed and is not something I am eager to return to. She was entrapped as I was, if not worse so I answered her call. Would you hold that against me?” I shook my head, throwing my hands in the air, “I’m not mad you helped her! Yes, that is awful and I’m glad whatever happened to her was dealt with. I’m upset because I didn’t even know she existed! I don’t like feeling jealous and insecure and like a forgotten play thing. I already feel so small in comparison to you and you bailing doesn’t help. You could have done anything, left  word, sent Matthew to tell me instead of wasting time I don’t have.” Because I was only a human. Anger was burning hot through me, at myself and him. For putting too much of myself into this. For letting myself get carried away and not laying down boundaries and rules and some sense of self. Protection. Time and time again, I forget to protect myself. Like so often, I got swept away by the magic and now I was drowning and I had only myself to blame for letting him in farther than he should have. “There is so much about you I don’t know,” I gritted out with a shrug, exasperated and hurt, “I will probably never even be able to comprehend all you’ve experienced, but I would hope that you’d share something. At least something as important as her!” Morpheus’ face was stoic, closed off as he looked down at me. He was every bit a monarch, larger than life and encompassing, “And what would you have me share? Shall I tell you of my entire existence, of every past lover and secret to give you alone to prove my word to you? To make you feel worthy?” “Now you’re misconstruing my words,” I growled back, “Like fuck, Morpheus, any mention of this would have been nice? Any mention that you had a kid with her?” I knew the moment I said it that we’d reached dangerous territory, the air sucked from the room like a blackhole. His body went unnaturally still, chin upturned and lips pressed in a thin unforgiving line. Lightning crackled in the distance and a wind bit at my skin, cold and harsh. I remember that black void in my nightmare when I first confronted him, the way only a look from him had made me feel like I could be crushed like a bug. I felt that again, the weight of his power and who he was. Not anyone, but the embodiment of so much. And I’d opened my mouth, had thought myself impervious to that look after all this time. But I wasn’t at all. My body locked up instantly. The reaction, one I hadn’t experienced in a long while, crashed into me suddenly and I knew my face had paled under that stare, anger sizzling out as if the oxygen had suffocated it. Words barreled through me, yelling to hide, make yourself small, don’t draw attention. Brace yourself, survive, apologize, beg for forgiveness. I swallowed thickly, the first hints of fear towards him on my tongue for the first time in a while. “That is not a discussion we will be having, Dahlia” the King of Dreams whispered into the darkness like a thundercloud, oppressive and terrible, and my name was acrid in the air, “In time, I may share myself with you. But do not make demands of things you do not understand.” My mind took the words in, twisted them, added the threat there. Don’t or else. Don’t or else next time he may do worse. I shriveled in on myself more and more, wanting to hide from the darkness of his gaze, the oppressive wrap of his power around my throat. “I’m sorry,” the words come out like a reflex, frantic and desperate, “I- I shouldn’t have-” I freeze up, mouth clamping shut as I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry seeps out of my pores and onto the ground. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry coated my skin, colored my eyes, as I curled in like a dead bug. My body was shutting down, closing in on itself. Old, reactive, a defense I thought I had moved on from but I had never done well with anger. I had learned to make myself small to hide, make myself small to protect myself because you never know what may happen when that anger is directed at you. I’d brace for it like one would brace for a tornado, hands over my hand and a prayer on my lips. Breaths quick and frantic, I lowered my head and stared at my feet, averting my eyes and willing the sting of tears to go away. Crying doesn’t help, crying makes things worse, crying is annoying and only draws more attention. “Forget I said anything,” my voice is quiet and choked, a clamoring rush of words jammed together, coming out in an effort to placate that anger directed at me, “You’re right, I shouldn’t have gotten mad or questioned you. I-I mean we’re not even really together, it’s not my p-place. None of it matters, just please forget I brought it up.” The words are desperate and placating and fearful. Silence fills the room, my hands clenched tightly at my side and chin pressed down into my chest to avoid looking at him. I’m a taut wire, pulled to the brink of snapping. The lightning outside the window had faded and his power still pressed against me sharp and metallic but the intensity had diminished. His pale fingers reached out and grazed the outside of my clenched fist and I flinched without meaning to, causing him to pause and register the reaction. I held my breath, waiting and waiting, bracing myself as nails dug crescent shapes into the palms of my hand. Instead, his power faded instantly, completely, and the tension vanished as if it had never been there. It was like air had been flooded back into the room, the change so startling I felt off-kilter. Dream didn’t hesitate and stepped closer to wrap his arms around me, pressing me into his body tightly as his nose skimmed my hair. I was still stiff, tightly wound and closed in on myself but he enveloped me like a warm blanket. Softness versus the hard touch I was expecting, had feared. The contrast was night and day, the Nightmare King no longer standing before me and now only Dream, the lord I had come to know. “Never think that you cannot question me, little dreamer,” his lips moved against my temple and body soaking my own frozen one with warmth as we whispered the term of endearment, “You are mine and I am yours. I meant that when we agreed. It is your place to ask these things of me and it does matter. You matter to me.” I felt that wire pulled to the bring begin to relax, inch by inch, as my body tried to calm itself from the reaction it was undergoing. Until finally, after a few minutes of him holding me like I was the world, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my face into his chest. He relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief, and kissed my hair and stroked my back. This was the Dream I knew, the one that laid with me and showed me his realm and sometimes was a cheeky asshole. The one that laughed quietly in my company, worshiped my body, claimed me as his and gave himself to me. He wasn’t Aiden, wasn’t a monster lurking and waiting to swallow me whole. He wasn’t lying in wait, waiting to find an excuse to spring out and punish any small fault.

His arms held me tightly and I held him back, all energy leaving me and exhaustion taking hold. I could feel his apology in the way his fingers threaded through my hair and lips pressed soft kisses to the crown of my head. Morpheus’ eyes were back to sparkling diamonds, no longer hard but trying to convey that I was not worthless and that he saw me. I didn’t say anything, couldn’t form the words, only swallowed the hard lump in my throat and pushed away the sting of tears. “I will make this up to you tomorrow, I swear it,” Dream whispered in the darkness of the room, “It truly was not my intention to upset you tonight. That is the last thing I wish.”

I only nodded, eyes blank and unseeing. I let him guide us both to the bed and laid down nestled into his side, bodies stretched out against each other and legs entangled. There wasn’t much time left in the night before I’d have to wake up, but we stayed like that, quiet and fully wrapped around each other. I didn’t want to say that I didn’t fully believe him, didn’t put much faith in I’ll make this up to you. It was a line I had heard too many times to count and had never been followed through on. It had been whispered after a bottle had been shattered against a wall, after shouts had drawn the neighbors to call the police, after I’d laid huddled in a corner hearing “It won’t happen again.” I could pave the world in the number of times I’d heard I’ll make it up to you. But all I could do was hope Morpheus was different, that maybe he really did mean it. His fingers wrapped around mine over his heart and he held me firmly against him as if I’d sink through the bed and disappear from his arms if he let go. The name Calliope rattled through my brain like a warning, a thunder cloud, and I woke up with bitterness on my tongue. _________ (Author’s note: Mind you, I love Calliope. I feel bad she keeps getting dragged into fics but it does make good story fodder. So this deals with her a bit. Communication was gonna break down between the two eventually, that's what happens when you don't define a relationship. This part is where we start touching on darker topics so TW: for abuse, trauma, etc going forward on this one)

[justjams2003]

The Desire to be Loved

Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

[murdrdocs]

realistically, i think dating rafe would be more trouble than it’s worth.

not even considering his borderline psychopathy and his cocaine addiction. he would be so resistant to opening up, and if he did open up, by the next morning he’ll be closed just a little bit tighter.

he can love you, buy you things, make you feel good, call you “my girl” as he kisses your forehead and pulls you tighter by your waist. but he’s still so afraid of truly letting himself get lost in a relationship, of letting someone else in, that he is never really yours.

you’re his, all the way, you’re open and welcoming and you bare your heart to him. he wishes he could do the same, but he just can’t. he can’t let himself be yours, bound by fear, but you’re so in love with him that he can’t bring himself to call it off. so he cheats.

he wants you to see the worst in him, to get tired of him, to get frustrated with trying to make him a better person, just like everyone else around him is. it’s a survival instinct that he can’t control, that he can’t turn off, and he doesn’t even try to.

it pains him to see you cry, and it pains him that you won’t give up. you deserve better, he wants you to have better. he just doesn’t think he can be better.

[lady-phasma]

Morpheus Returns

Part 1 of 2 (so far) cross posted from AO3

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, general smut and pretty fluffy, p in v sex. Written in first person fem!reader.

Summary a/n: Morpheus returns to find a favorite acolyte has waited 100 years for him. Also a bit of headcanon: I know he doesn’t sleep but the poor entity needs a break from time to time. No beta. 2k words

He lay imperiously on the black sheets of the bed. Their blackness swallowed light, no sheen like satin or silk. Draped over his bone-white body they gave the illusion that any light in the room came from him. The sheet fell across his belly and one leg. His arms spread out to his sides. His shaggy black hair shone with flecks of light as he turned his head in his rest. The King of Dreams sighed deeply.

My every action was imbued with the deepest reverence for Lord Morpheus. Each of us in The Dreaming had our roles and responsibilities, purpose and function. We were each created for a particular role. Although things had changed since his return, I had not. I had waited for a century. As Lucienne had waited. I didn’t leave The Dreaming when others gave up. I had one purpose and my existence was devoted to it. Much like gods and goddesses, the Endless enjoyed worshipers, human or otherwise. I was created to resemble a female human. Lord Morpheus had sculpted me to be perfect for him. Without him I had no purpose. So I waited.

When he returned most of us were gone. Lucienne encouraged him to rest but he had guilt and anger to assuage. I was patient. He saw me once before leaving to find his tools. How I had missed his expressive eyes and perfect mouth. I slid my fingers down his cheek.

“You look tired, my Lord,” I whispered.

“I am, Asteria,” he glanced down at me. “But I will return and I will make good use of our bed.”

My heart ached for his return but I busied myself with helping restore The Dreaming. I especially focused on his quarters. His palace staff gradually returned, as did his dreams and nightmares, but among them all I was cherished. He had given me my own personality, interests, abilities, but I was his design. My very being was sculpted to be his own dream. Each dream or nightmare in The Dreaming was his creation but created for others, for humans. I alone was formed for him, the physical manifestation of his desires. My limbs were long, my skin nearly as pale as his, and my body blessed with ample curves. My breasts were firm and high above a small rounded belly. My hips weren’t narrow but neither were they broad. My entire body was inhumanly hairless like his, except for long chestnut locks that fell, curling down my back. We only possessed human form, we were far from human. He had even named me in honor of the Titaness Asteria, the goddess of falling stars and oneiromancy. She had once had the ability to call him to her at will, Endless or not, to divine meaning from dreams.

I only slightly regretted disturbing his repose. He had previously promised me an audience and given me express instructions when to rouse him. My audiences with Dream were entirely selfish on his part. However, since I was created as a devotee there was immense pleasure in it for me as well.

I stood at the foot of the bed and let my nightgown fall off my shoulders. I climbed onto the bed. My eyes ran up the length of his body, along his exposed leg, his flat stomach, his taught chest, and his perfect collar bones. I sat next to him, my legs curled beneath me. I cupped his cheek in my palm and pressed my lips against his. He moaned into my mouth. His eyes opened just a fraction and he wrapped his long arms around me. I let my body sink into his embrace. This was the first proper kiss we had shared since his return. I wanted to touch every part of him at once. My hands roamed over his shoulders and chest.

“Time to rise, my Lord,” I mumbled into our kiss.

“Yes I suppose it is,” he sighed as he laid back. He placed one hand behind his head and let the other rest on my thigh, his long fingers almost brushing against my sex. His every movement was calculated. It was evident in the twitch at the corners of his mouth that he was enjoying teasing me.

Morpheus sighed again. He briefly closed his eyes. His hand moved slightly on my thigh. It was my turn to sigh.

I propped myself up on one arm and reached to stroke his chest, his arm, anything I could reach. This slight, intentional movement of my hips pressed his fingertips just against my lips. I shivered. He very nearly smiled at my urgency.

I moved to lean above him and began to kiss every inch of him that I could find. I kissed his neck, his chest, his nipples, under his arms, down his ribs. I gradually straddled him as I moved down his body. In doing so I pulled the sheet off of him. He had begun to grow hard at my touches. Oh how I had missed him! But I wanted to draw out my worship as long as possible. And worship I did. I slid my hands over his smooth, marble-like skin. I mumbled praise against his body, whispers of longing and adoration.

He had moved his other hand to rest under his head and lay almost perfectly still. There was a tinge of smile on his pouted lips. He was extremely satisfied. Anyone other than the two of us couldn’t possibly know the praise that was in that close, tight near-smile. It spurred me on. I had waited so long for this and I loved that I pleased him. I trailed kisses down his stomach.

“My Lord,” I said between kisses. “Mmmm… shall I leave you… mmmm… to continue resting?” My eyes shot up to meet his, my lips still on his skin. My grin was obvious.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. He reached down, placing a hand on either side of my face, and guided me up to kiss him. I spread my legs wider to press our bodies together and he raised his hips up to meet mine. His fingers wound into my hair eliciting a moan from me. His tongue pushed past my lips and teeth. Everything about him was long: legs, tongue, fingers. Another part of him that was quite long pressed against my backside. He had grown harder as I rubbed against him. I pressed my wetness against his belly to force a moan from him.

Morpheus withdrew his hands from my hair and rose up. He lifted me off him, onto my knees. With his hands cupping my ass, he kissed my breasts and my neck.

“You waited,” he murmured. “All these years… you waited.”

“Mmmhmm,” I responded. I buried my face in his hair and wrapped my arms around his neck. I held him close to my chest. I breathed in deeply. “Yes, my Lord. The thought of this moment and memories of the many before kept me warm while you were away. I only wish I could ease your suffering, your hurt.”

He turned his face up to mine and I kissed him, deep and hard. He kissed me back. He maneuvered my hips so that he could guide me down onto his lap. His hardness pressed into me. No hesitation, no resistance, a perfect fit. I gripped and pulled at his hair as the pleasure swept over me. He guided and moved me where and how he wanted. I was attuned to the movement of each of his muscles. His skin against mine felt perfect.

With no warning he flipped us over. He let me down on my back gently but that was all that was gentle. I could tell how badly he had missed me. He never needed excess words or expressions of sentiment with me. Allowing me to touch him, to pull him into myself, to hold him, was evidence enough. As emotionless as Dream wished for others to think him he was in fact often brimming with emotion. He buried his face in my neck and breathed deeply. He pushed himself further into me. I gasped and threw my head back, clutching at his shoulders. I felt warmth and wetness on my neck. I stroked his hair. His rhythm slowed. He made no sound but I knew, I could feel the silent tears. His embrace tightened around me, crushing me into him.

I resisted the urge to shush and console him. For far too long his actions had been governed by others. I was created to be the sole entity in his existence that didn’t require anything of him. I loved it. I cherished that he could let his guard down with me, shed all pretense. His muscles flexed within the circle of my arms. His tears stopped as abruptly as they had begun, short lived and rare.

He raised his head to look at me. He cradled the back of my head in his giant hand and studied my face. His expressive, red-rimmed eyes searched my expression for judgement and finding none he kissed me.

He ran his other hand down the length of my body, down the side of my thigh, guiding my leg over his hip. I pressed my heel into the small of his back, taking him deeper. I purred and arched my back. My hard nipples brushed against his chest. With his elbow bearing his weight, one hand behind my head, the other kneading my ass, I was enveloped by love. I was safe, my Dream had returned.

“Oh Morpheus,” I moaned. I stroked his face, his jaw, his ears and neck. I drew my fingertips across his perfect bottom lip. He kissed them as they passed. He held my gaze with his dark eyes. I saw the universe flash in them. That energy, that power, loved me. His rhythm had never faltered. His strokes were small and intimate. He was savoring our time. That connection was secondary to the reunion he so deeply desired.

But the moment passed and his expression became impassive once again. His stern jaw and pursed lips drove me wild. My breathing was shallow and hot against his neck. My hands had found their way back to his shoulders. I moved my other leg to encircle him. His pace quickened. I clung to him as if even momentarily losing my hold would allow him to disappear again.

Dream felt my need.

His fingers twisted and pulled at my hair. He slid his other hand between us to my breast, kneading, and caused me to arch against him. I was breathless, the entirety of my senses were filled with Morpheus. I kissed his shoulders, his neck. I squeezed, tight, around him as he thrust into me. The blunt exhalations he made as I did this sent electricity through me.

I felt his resolve melting. His rested his head beside mine, his shallow breath hot against my ear. I thought I heard him whisper my name. I moved my hand up the back of his neck and into his hair. I tugged slightly. He groaned. His hand slid from my breast to rub circles around my clit as he pushed deep into me, synchronizing his rhythms. My grasp on his hair tightened.

He pressed his entire body against mine, nothing save his arm between us. The pressure on my clit increased. I dug my heels into his ass, demanding he go as deep as possible. I realized I had been holding my breath and as I exhaled, my face still pressed against his, I moaned his name in half a dozen languages. And came hard and wet around him.

“My Asteria,” he breathed against me. “My love, how I missed you.” So quietly a mortal may not have been able to hear him.

A shiver ran over him, beginning at his shoulders and radiating outward. He exhaled sharply and I felt his final thrust deep into me. His cum was warm and slick between us. Though I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew from experience that they wouldn’t show me the universe at this moment. They would be as black as a void. He almost purred into my neck as his body relaxed.

He slipped his arm from between us and let his full weight rest on me. I slid my legs down, still embracing my Lord. His hand in my hair loosened and rested on the bed beside us. He kissed my ear and began to raise his head.

“Please not yet, Morpheus,” I whispered. “We have spent so long apart.”

He raised his head to look at me and truly smiled.

“I will not leave you just yet,” he stroked my cheek and kissed me gently on the forehead. “I would imagine we need to do that a few more times before I do.”

Part 2

[sweaty-toothed-mad-woman]

I had a dream where the next school year, someone asked Neil and Todd if they were queer, adhd, or autistic, and they looked at each other then back at the person and said “yes” in unison

[destinationtoast]

Snogging Rebecca was like making out with a grandfather clock: intimidatingly large and elegant, with more hidden complexity than you might first imagine.

- Keeley, in a fic I dreamt I was writing last night

[ofc-vi-writes-too]

More Bucky Headcanons just because ✨✨

some are +18 so if that makes u uncomfy or u are -18 please scroll!! It is clearly labelled where they start, so if u only want one or the other the division is there!!

this got kinda long lol sorry

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PG 13 SECTION:

• He has a lot of old fashioned/outdated beliefs so sometimes he’ll say something and you just have to look at him and go 😀😄😀 “no.” and then have a conversation with him about why what he just said is objectively morally corrupt. He’s very open to it and it doesn’t happen a lot but when it does he’s willing to understand and he asks questions about whatever messed up thing he said. He’s very progressive for a man who was in his early 20’s in 1945.

• he has a lot of old fashioned/outdated beliefs so ur dates are literally superior and your instagram is filled with people commenting things like “if you look closely you can see me swinging in the background” or “hey god its me again” and you cant forget the classic “when will it be my turn.” He brings you flowers at least once a week, and chocolates are a MUST for him, and as soon as he found out about edible arrangements there is one on your desk at work at least once a month. you tell him your gonna get fat from all the sweets he brings you and he says “good” and thats the end of that convo.

• on the note of food, he’s a fantastic cook. Most of the time. He has tried on multiple occasions to feed you depression era foods (balogna caserole, jello molds, pea pasta, etc) one time he made you a jello mold with olives and tuna in it and you got physically sick (it was the first time he saw you throw up so he kinda just stood there like 😬 and patted your back like “there there, my bad ill never give you tuna+jello in the same dish again” which he STILL makes for himself) so he decided to stick with more modern recipes for actual meals (which are always delicious). But he swears on his life that dessert recipes were better when he was a kid, and he always bakes you the sweets his mom made when he was little such as, apple pie, wacky cake, water pie, prune pudding, frozen fruit salad.

• he really likes crispy cookies so he’ll take urs out when theyre cooked the regular amount, and he leaves his in the oven for like another 10 minutes at minimum. He likes it best when the edges of the cookies are literally burnt and when the chocolate even gets crispy. He dips em in milk though which i guess is slightly redeeming? But the crunch on his cookies should be punishable by law. It counds like crisps when he chews.

• Texts like:

Bucky ❤️❤️

Hey…

hey?? u good?

Yes. I just wanted to say

I love you…

ilyt.. y r u being

so ominous?

I am not…

I just wanted to send you

this big long paragraph chunk

about how much I love you. It

has to be grammatically correct

because I’m old and it will take

me 15 minutes at minimum to

finish typing this text because

I am typing with one hand, and

I have big thumbs. Thank god

for voice memos. Also what

does OMG mean?

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it drives you insane but he physically cannot comprehend any other way to text. He also had a flip phone until you forced him to get a new one. When he gets it he doesn’t send you texts anymore, and instead only sends voice memos (its so much faster)

• loves a sweet treat but is terribly embarrassed about it. Literally the trope where the big scary guy orders a black coffee “for himself” and his cute girly gf gets like a sugar unicorn rainbow suprise, and after they get their drinks they switch. He makes you order it with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. If you like sweet drinks too, he will still order the black coffee and not drink it. He will consistently order 3 drinks despite there only being 2 of you. Sometimes he drops it off w Steve because he knows he likes black coffee and he hates waste, but he is still too embarrassed to just order his drink.

• cried watching Up, Toy Story 2, The Princess and the Frog, Moana, The beauty and the beast (which was ur halloween costume the year he first watched it. His choice.) and Cars (you still don’t know why he cried about cars to this day and it has been YEARS.)

• despite being an ex assassin, when he’s not in fight or flight mode he’s terribly unathletic. He talks big game before a bowling date and he literally bowls a 45. You didn’t know anyone over the age of 8 could score that low in a game where you simply roll a ball. You also took him to In Shape to play tennis and he hit a car with the ball.

• his body physically cannot handle energy drinks. as much sugar as he consumes, energy drinks make him jittery and paranoid for some reason, and despite being a relatively quiet man, he doesn’t shut up when there’s a red bull in his system

• pro legalizing weed in all states. Tried an edible one time before bed because he overheard someone say it or read somewhere that it can help with sleep, and he swears he had never slept that good in over 100 years of being alive. Even pre super soldier serum.

• He’s a man of few words so in the beginning of u 2 going out there would be long periods of awkward silence. He took you on a lot of movie dates so he could avoid this problem as much as possible.

•Def doesn’t wear his arm to bed so you guys have an easier time spooning. You don’t have to deal with the problem that a lot of couples have where you wanna cuddle but his arm falls asleep cs ur laying on it. but for him theres no arm to lay on!!!! yippeee!!! Cuddling in bed typically looks like him being the big spoon with his right arm around your waist. His left shoulder is in whatever position his decides is comfortable that night. He also has a habit of not sleeping with his head on the pillow so you typically feel his nose/breathe against the small of your back. He often kisses you there while rubbing your side to put you to sleep

• cuddling is a little different when he has a bad nightmare tho. Sometimes he doesn’t want to cuddle so he’ll lay on the floor on your side of the bed and go back to sleep there, or at least try to. Thats usually what happens if you don’t wake up. If you do, you go and get him a glass of water, and a cold rag to wipe is sweat off. You give him a minute until he’s ready to lay back down. He lays on his back, and you suction yourself to his side. One leg over his and your arm on his chest, rubbing soothing patterns to try and slow his hammering heart. You kiss where you can reach, but he’s huge, so its usually just his shoulder and chest, and you tell him all your favorite things about him, and how much you love him, and how safe he is here in your arms. It works 95% of the time.

RATED R SECTION:

• its ur lucky day if ur a pillow princess! he likes being able to physically take care of his partner without them having to do any work. He feels like it’s his way of saying thank you for staying with him thru all his trauma and whatnot

• if his s/o is plus sized he will make the effort to be able to lift 2 times their weight bare minimum (which doesn’t take that much effort on his part), and he gets a little smug when he lifts his partner up against the wall the first time and they’re a little shocked because hey no one has ever been able to do that before what is happening oh noooo BOOM you’re in love

• usually not the one to initiate anything. He feels like he’s pressuring you when he does, but you can always tell when he’s in the mood because he gets clingy and cannot look you in the eye.

• in the same vein, he doesn’t really get horny that often but when he does… whew chile GOOD LUCK. Super human stamina is a gift and a curse with him!!

• he doesn’t like to mark you up, but he loves it when you do. He likes getting done and seeing the scratches on his back in the mirror, or having to cover up hickeys with turtlenecks. His favorite is when he makes you help him cover the harder to hide ones to his with makeup. (he bought the right color for himself but didn’t know how to use it). LOVE LOVE LOVES when you bite him.

• Again, he’s typically a man of few words but he will mumble random things “to himself” but loud enough for you to barely hear it too. a lot of “so fucking good,” “pretty girl” “all mine” “all yours” “tell me I’m yours” “say your mine” and other things of that nature

• I think I said this in the last one but I’m a firm believer that he wouldn’t wear his arm unless he had to/felt unsafe. and I would argue that he feels pretty safe if yall are doing the shaboingboing. SO holding you is a little difficult for your amputee bf. Getting into a good and comfortable position for both of you tends to bring a lot of laughs.

•He likes to touch you a lot while y’all are getting down and dirty. It helps ground him in a way. He struggles a little bit with dissociation, even when getting intimate so being able to feel your skin under his palms helps keep him on Earth and focused on getting his s/o off.

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A/N: thank you if you resd this far. dont be shy and leave a note behind! i have more chapters of friends dont on the way i swear. Im genuinelu just slow IM SORRY AHH

anyways good night cuties 🌙💫⭐️✨