#Morpheus imagine
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LOST DREAMS | MORPHEUS
Summary: Your ancestor was cursed by Morpheus long ago so the women in your family would be plagued with eternal wakefulness, but you don't believe in the curse or that some ancient Greek god was the cause of it, like your grandmother always told you about. Doctors have told you that the only reason they can think of is most likely a severe case of ADHD in the family and that's why you never feel sleepy. But then you get a job at a Burgess mansion and find something in the basement that makes your grandmother's stories sounding not so crazy after all...
Even on her deathbed, your grandma had talked about the "curse" she claimed the whole family suffered from. You could see how it can be seen as a curse, never feeling sleepy and how you always had energy for everything - because of that, you had had plenty of boring moments every day and it did suck. Not to mention, your friends talking about how funny and good dreams they have had always sparked jealousy within you. It was something you had never experienced.
Doctors had researched you since you were a baby, but they couldn't pinpoint a reason for being unable to fall asleep either. They had you running from test to test, even sent you to another country for more tests with a world top sleep disorder clinic, but nothing worked. Some doctors were afraid that your condition is a type of fatal insomnia, and that you were slowly dying. But those were knocked down too with brain scans, and after your grandma and mother could testify that they had been exactly the same since birth, doctors were facing yet another puzzle. The condition was absolutely unheard of. You heard stories that someone in your family had been burned as a witch for not sleeping, which ultimately made you believe it's something running in the family.
And after some debating between doctors, they too decided that it's an extremely rare type of ADHD, the most severe there is, and your family are the first ones it's been detected to have. They also believed that something in your brains had aligned so perfectly that you not sleeping doesn't affect the brains negatively and expressed their will to be able to take your brains for medical research.
Your grandmother, however, wasn't keen on that thought. She had made up her mind that it's the ancient Greek god Morpheus who had cursed you with it, and nothing would be found from her brains.
"Mother, Morpheus is an ancient Greek god. He's not real," you remember your mother saying as you were visiting your grandma in the hospital. "There's also no thing as curses or magic."
Your grandma had pursed her lips and shook her head. "Oh my dear foolish girl, you just don't understand it. Our ancestor, many centuries ago, was Morpheus' lover, and-"
"She rejected him, we all remember," you interrupted. "He cursed her and everyone in her family to never feel tired."
Your grandma had let out a long breath through her nose. "No, he cursed the women with it. Not men. It is said that he became enraged when his lover refused his kingdom, and when she passed away, he took revenge by striking down all of us with this curse, preventing us from getting proper rest. And now, you're the newest one of our family to carrying the curse. Your future daughters will carry it too, and it will be passed on to their daughters in turn."
You had sighed in chorus with your mother, your grandma had always been clearly delusional about it. Likely brainwashed by her own mother, who had been brainwashed by her mother and so on. But you and your mother were new generation, who didn't believe in such absurd stories and had reliable medical research under your fingertips but unfortunately, you had had to listen your grandma talking about it all your childhood.
When your grandma had passed away, you moved out from your hometown and settling to a nice little town in southern England. You got a job as a cleaner-occasional cook-extra pay caretaker in a fancy mansion owned by an elderly couple, and life was good.
But every mansion has its mysteries, and this mansion had one too. A secret door with a hidden passcode tablet, and only some could go in. No one, besides the guards or Alex and Paul, really knew what was behind it, and no one dared to find it out for themselves. After all, everyone knew that if Alex found out that his servant was going into the room, he would likely fire them, so no one dared to try their luck.
No one, except you. You knew how to get in, and even though you never tried before, you had the feeling that it would work. So you had gone in secretly in the middle of the night, your "curse" as your little helper. You had succeeded in distracting the guards and crept your way down the stairs.
You came to a large, dark hall and you swallowed as you switched the light on. The lights blinded you for a moment, and you raised your arm in front of your eyes, before slowly peeking through and your heart jumped a little upon seeing a figure sitting there. It was a man, who was inside a large glass sphere, not even looking at you gawking at him. Then you realised that he was naked, and quickly turned your head away from his lower regions.
"I'm sorry, I...I..." You stuttered, your voice croaking. "I didn't think there's someone here. Everyone is so mysterious and I wanted to see what is it that is kept here. Wait, you... you aren't kept here as a prisoner, are you?"
The man didn't reply, but his eyes shifted at you, and you felt like a mouse caught in the stare of an owl. His gaze was intense, and a shiver ran down your spine.
You took it as a yes. "Can I help you? Can I do anything?" you continued nervously.
The man kept quiet, but you caught something in his eyes, something which looked like disbelief. You opened your mouth to speak again, but then closed it. You glanced over your shoulder before taking a step towards the sphere, and noticed strange vigils in a circle on the ground.
"What's this?" you asked, still somehow wishing the man would say something. Even when you knew he wouldn't. But his gaze was on the circle now too and he cocked his head slightly at it.
"This sounds stupid, but it looks like a summoning circle. I've probably watched supernatural movies a little too much," you chuckled. The man slowly raised his eyes on you again, and then back down again. You frowned. "Do you... want me to break it?" you asked hesitantly.
The man's piercing blue eyes once again met yours. Then he, very slowly, nodded.
You swallowed hard and stepped forward, fingers trembling as you touched the circle with your foot. It immediately felt like some unknown force was pulling at you, like you were being pulled towards it and you made a stroke, erasing a small segment of the circle.
You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and heard noise from the stairway and immediately panicked, looking at the man and then sprinting towards the light. You turned it off and made your way to the farthest corner of the basement, hoping no one would notice you once lights were on.
After a few moments, you heard a chair scrape the stone floor and carefully peered towards the doorway. The other guard had come back and was reading a newspaper. You watched as the man in the glass sphere slowly stood up, pressing his hands on the glass and suddenly, all hell was loose.
A wind surged through the room, knocking the doors open and making a terrible sound. You covered your ears, before realising it wasn't just the wind. There was a bright light, you saw the figure of that man climbing out of the sphere and you screamed, not knowing what was happening.
Suddenly, the guard was on the ground and another bright light appeared. Then the man in the glass sphere was gone, just like that. The light, the wind and the noise had all stopped the moment that man had gone and you slowly got up. Your knees buckled but you forced yourself to go upstairs, to pretend you were never there. You were shaken. What had happened?
---
Some time after that, you were preparing yourself for another book marathon. You didn't feel like watching Netflix right now, so books it was. But then something happened, something that had never happened before.
You fell asleep. You put your head on the pillow and began reading when you were taken over this strange feeling of wanting to close your eyes, so you did. And sleep came. Suddenly, you were transferred in front of a huge castle, dragons and fairies flying over you and a sweet smell that tickled your nose. And you were sure you had lost your mind.
"Hello," a deep voice said from beside you and you twirled around to see the man from the sphere in front of you. Now, fortunately, fully dressed. He smiled and you stared at him, confused.
"How- How are you here?" You asked, frowning. This was absurd, almost like a... dream?
"You're dreaming," the man confirmed your suspicion. Your eyes widened.
"What? H-how?"
"I lifted the curse. So you could meet me."
You blinked. "C-curse?"
"Yes. A long time ago, I cursed a woman who didn't accept my proposal, when I asked her to be my queen when she died. So I told her that every woman who is born in her family, will be cursed by eternal wakefulness." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I was bitter and inconsiderate when I did that, taken by my feelings and sadness."
"Wait, so... my grandmother was right? You... you are..."
"Morpheus, the King of Dreams." He smirked. "Your kind thinks I'm just a story, but I exist, in fact. The whole dream realm exists, and we can't tell stories without dreams."
You still stood there, dumfounded. "You lifted the curse so I'm... I'm able to sleep and dream now?"
Morpheus smiled slightly. "Yes. As a thank you for releasing me."
You blinked again, and then took in your surroundings. A dragon sat next to you, its wings spread wide and a fairy sitting on top of it, playing with some sort of crystal ball.
"If I may, I can show you around the realm?" Morpheus offered and you gave him a nod. "Very well. Follow me."
You started walking with him, and in a few minutes, you arrived at a forest. The trees were tall and wide, with red flowers blooming everywhere. On your left, you could hear the sound of water flowing and on your right, a waterfall. A beautiful place, one that you wanted to stay in forever.
"There is a lake not far from here, where the fairies usually gather. It is very beautiful, would you like to see it?" Morpheus suggested and you nodded. "Follow me."
He walked into the woods, and shortly after that, you reached the lake. The water sparkled in the sunlight, and the land surrounding it was green. Many little houses were built around the edges, and you couldn't help but stare at them. They reminded you of dollhouses, and you quickly realised that they were where fairies lived.
"This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen," you murmured.
"It is." Morpheus agreed. "Would you like to see my palace?"
You looked at him questioningly and he smiled.
"The house of the king of dreams is located in the heart of the realm. You need my permission to enter it, and only a few may. But you have earned my trust."
You nodded. "Thank you."
He smiled again. "Then follow me."
You walked out of the forest, and suddenly were met with the palace once again. It was bigger than you expected, even though you had been expecting it to be big. The garden was large and full of flowers, while the inside was decorated in a warm golden colour, with paintings hanging from the walls. He led you to the library, and you looked around at the bookshelves and the many old manuscripts.
"I heard you like books, so I thought you would like this," Morpheus said, smiling. "You can read whatever you want."
"Really?" You gasped, and his smile grew slightly. "Thank you!"
You went through the endless shelves, looking at all the books you could see. Some you recognised, others you hadn't seen before. Morpheus stood there for a moment, before exiting the room.
Dreams were even more magical than anyone had ever told you, and you couldn't wait to see a whole new world of them.
---
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#the sandman#the sandman x reader#the sandman imagine#morpheus#morpheus x reader#morpheus imagine#dream of the endless#dream of the endless x reader#dream of the endless imagine#reader insert#female reader#my works
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love game. i
summary: he has never been a good husband, but a century in captivity might change his mind
pairing: morpheus x love!reader
tw: dark!morpheus hehe, mention of rape is you squint but i kinda emphasized that its not? toxic relationships (?)
a/n: gif aint mine. idk where this is fic going. this is the literal example of head empty, no thoughts just my love for men groveling at my feet. hopefully you like them too
“Where is my wife?” he asked, glancing at Lucienne. “Had she abandoned me too? Surely she has sensed me by now…”
His librarian gives him an uncertain look. “My lord, my lady will only come if you summon her. It has been that way for centuries.”
He looks up the ceiling of his palace. There were holes where the roof has fallen, letting sunshine through the throne room. On the damp corners, weeds had slipped through the pristine walls that he had built. His palace looks like a broken heart, thrown away and abandoned. He wonders if this is what she felt like. “Then I summon I shall summon her.”
You came a few seconds after he had said the words.
Lucienne is the first thing you see. She is standing up straight with her hands behind her back- the perfect picture of formality except on her face was a smile wider than you have seen her in a century. Lucienne does not cry, professionalism forbids her so, but you know that if she could he would have tears running down her face in joy. Her heart tells you so. Lucienne’s heart tells you more- the love for her master who has some back.
She bows to you, and steps aside. You cannot help the relief in your face as you see your husband. You blink twice waiting for him to fade away just to be sure. “You’re back,” you whisper in awe, walking towards him quickly. “Forgive me for not coming sooner, my lord, I had to make sure.” Your eyes widen a fraction at your mistake. “Not that I doubted you, husband, I-”
You meet his eyes and you halt. “Are you alright?”
The Dreaming stills. Even in its decaying form its realm remembers its master. Not a single dust threatened to fall, and every speck of dust held its breath. “I was captured.” Dream stares at the ground as he speaks. His voice was a quiet rumble with anger evident in his face.
Captured? You wanted to ask, along with the thousands of questions that bombarded your head. How in the world did an Endless become prisoner? But you held your tongue. Knowing your husband, his pride is wounded and irritable. He is frustrated to retreat to the Dreaming to lick his wounds, and even humiliated that he came back significantly weaker than when he left.
Instead, you swallow the concern down your throat and settled for the sight of him. He looked the same as he had always been, but something has changed. This you are certain.
“Welcome back, Dream Lord.” You greet with a smile and a small bow. It was a smart statement. No mention of his time in absence or your misplaced concern, only your relief that he is back in the Dreaming. You turn your heel to leave, when he spoke up.
“You’re leaving already?”
Your eyes snapped back at him suspiciously. From the corner of your eye you see Lucienne exit the room, but you did not dare to take your eyes off the Dream Lord. He has never complained of your departure before. Some days you think he wishes you left as soon as you arrived. “Yes,” you nod. “I have my duties to attend to. You have called and I have come. I have done your bidding.”
“I-” Something passes in his face, like a shadow of sadness. “That is not what I meant.”
You look at him, confused, but smiled and nodded anyway. “Then how can I serve you, my lord?”
The dream lord looks at you like you had caused him pain. “Love,” he says, and you almost flinch in surprise. He had never said your name so gently before. In fact, you realize that this is the first time you have even heard him say your name. You were only ever ‘wife’, never ‘Love’, you were…nothing. “I…I apologize. I have not been a good husband to you.”
Your mind flies back to the wedding you have blessed before he had summoned you. The groom and the bride looked so happy, so in love. With your blessing you knew their marriage would be a successful one, the kind that would last until the end of their lifetime. If only yours were the same.You quickly shook the thought away from your head. You are not the naive girl you once were.
Instead, you shake your head. For a moment, you wonder if he would forgive you for taking a step towards him, but you decided against it after recalling what had happened last time. “You are not a cruel husband, Dream.”
You have seen first hand what cruelty is. Men and women pray to you constantly to make their spouses love them, if only they would stop hurting them. But your husband had never hurt you. He wouldn’t dare. And you would not let him.
He gives you a rueful smile. “Then what kind of husband am I if my wife can’t even take a step towards me?”
You suck up a breath. So he had noticed that. The king of dreams is not cruel, but he is cold. You had tried once, when you were first married. Arranged marriages rarely bared fruit to love, but there were some exceptions if they tried enough. You had greeted him, every day, sat beside him every morning to break your fast, walked along with him despite his obvious annoyance. For a few years you visited his realm everyday, had greeted his mornings with the sweetest kiss and at the end of your night, opened your legs when he saw fit, letting him take you whenever he wanted. But eventually, you have resorted to only come when he calls you. He never calls because he misses his wife. More often than not, he has a command to give and expected you to obey.
“I realize now that you did not ask for this marriage, and I had forced you into it.” In a surge of courage, he held out his hand silently asking for yours. For the first time in a long time you saw nervousness in his eyes, anxious to see your response. You knew that you had every right to stand still, and no one would fault you for it. But you slowly gave your hand anyway.
You were surprised to know that your husband’s hand was warm. Had you expected him to feel cold? When was the last time you had even touched him? When was the last time he had touched you?
Relief was splattered in his face. Dark eyes lock with yours as he ever so slowly raised your palm to his lips. “How callous have I been to subject Love to a loveless marriage?”
“You did not force me to do anything,” you insist, eyes locked at your hand on his, at the spot his lips had kissed. “You didn’t wish for this marriage either.”
“But I did not have to be so unkind.” Slowly, he dropped your hand to your side and took a step back. You did not know how to feel at the loss of his touch. “In my cage, I had plenty of time to ponder on the things I have normally ignored. I had often wondered how cruel my captors were for keeping me inside my cage for so long but haven’t I done the same to you?”
You gulped.
“Have I not made you feel unwelcome in a realm that is yours as much as it is mine by law? Haven’t I made the Dreaming your cage, Love?” He asked, eyelashes touching his cheek.
“My lord,” you say in alarm as you process his words. “The Dreaming is a haven compared to what you’ve went through. The Dreaming is a haven compared to anything.”
It did not go unnoticed by you both that you did not deny Dream’s first statement. The Dreaming has never felt like home to you for it has given you nothing to be tied down to it. Its wonder had never failed to welcome you every time you visit, but you do not stay too long. Home is warmth, and the Dreaming has always been so cold to you. Home is your own realm, an endless pink sky like a never ending sunset across the horizon.
“Forgive me,” your husband whispers. And to your horror, you watch in shock as the King of Dreams bend down on one knee followed by the other. This time you touch him, not caring about the consequences. You grip his arms and attempt to pull him back up, but he stubbornly remains rooted on the ground.
Your head whips to the exit Lucienne left at and to any other possible entrances to his throne room. It is simply unheard of to have an Endless kneel to someone who is lower to them. You have never even heard of an Endless kneeling before. Your mind races at the thousand possibilities of who might witness your husband beg. Oh, what if Desire came in- ?
“There is no one here, they’ve all gone away in my absence” Dream says, his voice steady like he wasn’t down on his knees for you. “Lucienne is in her library absorbed in her work. You’re all I have left. You’re all I’ve always had. Forgive me, Love.”
Flashes of forgotten cooked meals, cold nights, deserted company and a millennium worth of loneliness flashes in your mind. You have always been so neglected. Is this it, then? Were you to throw away everything because he learned humility after a century?
“There is nothing to forgive, my lord.” You say, eager to get this conversation over and to have your husband just stand up.
“Morpheus,” he corrects with a sad smile. Your response echoes in his head and he did not need confirmation to know that it was a lie. How are you still so loyal? “Then forgive me anyway.” He compromises on your behalf, even when kneeling. He knew you would deny your lie if he asked.
“Alright.”
Your shoulders sag and sigh in sheer relief when Morpheus finally stands back up. You can him from head to toe just to be certain he is well before reminding yourself that your hands are still gripping his leather sleeves. You release them immediately, but he caught you wrists before you could pull away.
You flinch, and his eyes soften in regret. I am not scared, you want to say, I’m just not used to you touching me.
“Have I made you fear me so?” His grip on your wrists in gentle. If you wanted to pull away he would let you. But you let him hold your wrists at the thought that this might be the last time in a long time you will feel him. Might as well relish in it. “I will do better,” he vows. “I will be kinder, more gentle. I will do right by you this time.”
You tug your wrists away from his grasp slowly. “I must return to the waking world, my lord. My duties await me.”
Lie. You hear no prayers, no human calling for your help.
You’ve seen this trick before. You’ve seen mortal men promise the same sweet things to their wives only for them to hurt them once again. A few pretty words is not enough to erase a millennium of memories.
You turn your heel and walk out of his throne room. Morpheus lets you.
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#morpheus x reader#the sandman x reader#dream the endless x reader#dream x reader#sandman x reader#dream of the endless#the sandman#morpheus imagine#the sandman imagine#dream of the endless imagine
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Wishful Drinking
Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader
Summary: After Morpheus cruelly dismisses you, you decide that you'll get back at him by staying out of the Dreaming one night for as long as you can. What you don't anticipate is letting your feelings get the best of you and getting very drunk instead.
Or, drunk shenanigans galore!
Word Count: 3.5k
Author's Note: I don't know what this is, y'all. I haven't written anything in more than a month, and it was so tough to even write this, but I wanted to write SOMETHING. As always, hope you enjoyed, let me know your thoughts, and likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.
ALSO! Dream logic applies here, in that you're still drunk when you reach the Dreaming.
Listen.
You know that certain coping mechanisms, like, say, going out clubbing with your friends and getting crazy drunk for the first time in a long time, aren’t exactly healthy. But things have been difficult for you lately! You’ve been struggling a lot, in both your professional and personal life. These hardships are only compounded by the fact that the one person (or person-shaped being) in your life that you thought you could count on, your Morpheus, has been too busy to have time for you.
Literally. He said those exact words to you a mere three days ago, when you had found him in his personal study (a study that he almost never used) after what felt like a day spent chasing him around the Dreaming. You meant for it to come out as teasing when you took note of the fact that you hardly saw him around lately and that it felt like he was purposefully avoiding you, but he had sighed and glared at you before saying, “I have much to do, and I am far too busy to entertain you right now.”
You glowered, but, as he said, he was too busy to see it. Fine, you thought as you turned around and stalked out of his study. Leave him to his business.
Cut to today. When your friends asked if you wanted to go out with them, you almost said no, having gotten accustomed in the past couple of months to the routine of going to bed by nine o’clock in order to maximize time spent in your lover’s realm. But then, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you didn’t want to just continue sitting around in the Dreaming and hoping that Morphues would come out of whatever funk he was in. After all, why should you make an effort when he won’t? You’re not about to beg for his attention.
With that in mind, you texted back that you very much wanted to go out with them and proceeded to get ready for a fun night out.
The plan was to have a couple of drinks, dance for a bit, and stay out of the Dreaming just long enough to make Morpheus sweat a bit.
But then shots had been ordered.
And your friend bought you a drink because they knew you had had a tough week.
And you bought yourself two drinks.
And a group of guys bought you another round of shots, and though you all laughed at the fact that they were not getting anything out of this, you still took them because you weren’t about to turn down free alcohol.
This leads to you and your friends stumbling out of a bar at two in the morning, holding each other up as you do. Definitely not the plan, but what’s that one quote about plans and mice and men?
“What about a mouse?” your friend asks from beside you, making you realize that you said that out loud.
“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” you say.
Somehow, you make it into a Lyft (thank the gods for friends who don’t get carried away), and somehow, you make it into your home. Not without its difficulties–you dropped your keys multiple times on the walk to your front door, and there might be a you-shaped indent in the entryway wall from where you fell into it when trying to kick your shoes off.
When you reach your bedroom, you decide that actually, the floor looks comfier than your bed does. You’re so drunk that the room feels like it’s spinning when you lay down, and you close your eyes to enjoy the ride.
“Fuck, I’m so drunk right now,” you say out loud, laughing at the sound of your slurred words.
You don’t mean to fall asleep, really. You know that you need to crawl to the bathroom to wash your face and find enough dexterity to change clothes before hopefully sobering up just enough that you can make it to the kitchen to grab painkillers and water for the inevitable killer hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. The floor is just so soft, though, and you work yourself into a trance-like state by staring up at the ceiling fan and watching it go around and around and around. On one blink, you’re staring at your ceiling.
And on the next, you’re staring at another ceiling, one that’s not really a ceiling at all, but an entire galaxy above your head.
It’s easy to get lost in the magnificent colors swirling above you (especially in your current state), and you do, until you hear someone calling your name. When you look away from the universe, you see the love of your life looking at you, though at present, he is not reciprocating the heart eyes that you are always looking at him with.
“Where have you been?” Morpheus demands.
“Morpheus, my love!” You throw your arms out and grin. “I’ve missed you.”
“Do you have any idea how worried I have been? I sent Matthew to find you hours ago when first you were late, only for him to report that he could not find you at your home.” You’re a little surprised that Matthew hadn’t managed to track you down; your little raven friend was almost scarily good at finding people/places/things.
“Aw, you’ve missed me?” It makes sense, of course; after all, you’ve missed him, so it’s only natural that he would miss you in return. Still, the sentiment makes you feel all warm and melty on the inside.
It’s obvious to anybody who actually takes the time to know Morpheus—a tiny list of people and beings, two of whom are in the room with him right now—that he’s fighting a war between wanting to scold you and wanting to hold you and check you up and down for wounds. Morpheus crosses the room towards you, and you ready yourself for the inevitable lecture you’re about to get, about how you’re just a fragile little human and he worries every moment that you’re away from him (y’know, now that you have the clarity of a drunk person, you’re actually annoyed that this is constantly coming from the being that’s meant to be your lover).
But that’s not what happens.
Instead, you find his arms wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in your neck. He’s hugging you, not the other way around. He’s never done such a thing before, and you don’t know how to react. What you do know is that any of the residual anger you had been feeling drains out of you like water from an unstoppered bathtub. You really didn’t think that being away for—the math isn’t mathing for you currently, and you don’t actually know how long it’s been—a couple of hours would affect him this much.
“You are the one most dear to my heart,” he mutters into your ear, cognizant of the fact that you are not alone in this throne room. “Of course, I missed you.”
“Oh. When you said you were ‘too busy to entertain’ me, I just kinda assumed you wouldn’t notice I was gone.” Though you don’t mean to weaponize your words, the poison darts make contact with their target anyway, and Morpheus stiffens in your hold.
“Are you alright?” he asks instead, choosing to wait until a later time to have this particular conversation.
“Aw, dream boy” you coo, snaking a hand up to clumsily run it through his hair. “I’m okay baby, swear it! Like, absolutely, one hundred percent fine.”
Morpheus pulls away from you so that he can look you up and down to confirm that you really are okay. “You smell like a pub,” he notes.
“How can you tell that in the Dreaming?”
He ignores your question when a realization seems to hit him. “Are you inebriated?”
“No, I’m drunk,” you correct very matter-of-factly.
“That is–” he stops, choosing instead to just shake his head.
“Oh, dear,” Lucienne mutters from behind Morpheus, reminding you of her presence in the first place.
“Lucienne! Hi! How have you been!”
You crane around Morpheus to be able to see your favorite librarian, but you almost fall over in the process. Before you can tip too far over, Morpheus is there to right you again. When he does, he looks down at you with quite the serious expression on his perfect face.
“Who did this to you?” he asks, ready to punish whoever put you in such a state.
“Vodka. Rum, maybe?” You think back on your drinks for the evening, though it’s hard to think back that far. “Yeah, the second round of shots was definitely rum.”
“You put yourself in this state?”
“Yes?” Has Morpheus never heard of the concept of going out and getting shitfaced with your pals? “To be fair, I didn’t think that my drunkenness would…” You search for the word that you want to use, but it’s just not coming to you! “Uh, carry over?”
“Please tell me you managed to make it home safely?”
You nod. “Sure did! Pretty sure I fell asleep on the floor, though.”
Lucienne slowly begins to back up towards the door, and Morpheus stares at you for a long moment before sighing heavily.
“Are you mad at me?” you ask nervously, starting to get upset the longer the silence drags on. Did you say something that you shouldn’t have? Is there a rule you don’t know about against sleeping on floors?
Instead of answering you, Morpheus waves a hand in the air and says, “This dream is over.”
You’re awake and once again staring up at your ceiling fan, only this time, Morpheus is also in your line of sight. It’s impossible to stop yourself from touching him when you’re sober, so it’s not at all surprising that your hands go up to caress his face now when you’re drunk.
“Hi cutie,” you greet, laughing in delight when he flushes just the slightest amount.
He grabs your hands and kisses the back of both before setting them against your chest. “Why are you sleeping on your floor?”
“Because,” is your simple, childish reply.
“That is not a good answer.”
“It’s the one you get because it’s the one I have.” You throw in a peace sign to be extra spicy, but Morpheus, unfortunately, doesn’t comprehend your 21st-century humor, and instead just segues into the next order of business.
“Might I help you up, so that we can get you properly ready for bed?”
“But I’m comfy,” you groan. Morpheus is not buying what you’re selling, unfortunately, so you sigh. “Fine.”
Morpheus holds his hands out for you to take and helps you to your feet. Too fast, apparently, because the room begins to spin and your stomach tilts dangerously, making you clap a hand over your mouth.
“Oh no. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy,” you chant, squeezing your eyes shut and laying your head against Morpheus’s shoulder while you try to breathe through sudden nausea. You will not throw up on your super hot eldritch nightmare king boyfriend, you command yourself. Not tonight, and not ever.
“What is wrong?” Morpheus sounds panicked, and you want to reassure him, but you hold up a finger in the meantime.
When the nausea finally passes, you take a deep breath and slowly look up. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Sometimes drinking too much combined with moving too fast makes people feel sick. It’s my fault, but I’ll be okay.”
“Are you well enough to move?”
“Yes, I promise.”
To prove your point, you let go of his hand and start walking heel to toe as the police require during field sobriety tests (honestly, you’re a little surprised that you can actually do this right now). You can practically feel your lover's amusement behind you, but it proves to him that you are capable. Morpheus lets you walk to the bathroom on your own power, and you think the only reason he doesn’t sweep you off your feet is because he’s worried you’ll throw up if he does. He watches you intently the entire time, though.
You sit on the lip of the bathtub, watching Morpheus move about your bathroom as though he knows where everything is; he probably does, you realize, whether it be from that endless wealth of knowledge about everyone and everything that he possesses, or just his familiarity with your home. After rummaging around for a few moments, he comes back with a washcloth and your favorite pajamas. The sight of the familiar material makes you tear up, and you sniffle loudly.
Morpheus looks up in alarm. “Are you okay?”
“You remembered my favorite pajamas,” you say, trying to not start crying. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s come directly to see you off to his realm, and you’ve probably worn those pajamas twice. Yet he remembered the one-off comment you had made about how they were your favorite because of course he did.
His face softens. “Of course I did.”
You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. “Sorry. I’m okay! Just drunk.”
Morpheus hands you said pajamas before turning the faucet on and letting the water run. He seems to realize something after a moment and looks at you helplessly. “I do not feel temperature as you do. Is the water alright?”
You grin and stick your hand under the faucet, moving the tap just a smidge hotter before nodding at him. “It’s good now. Thank you for asking.”
He begins to run the damp washcloth gently over your face, a barely-there smile appearing on his own when you wrinkle your nose at the cool sensations. Where this situation would be awkward with anybody else, it feels entirely natural with Morpheus. You’ll take these little moments of domesticity with him whenever you can get them, even when you’re still half drunk.
Even if you wanted to, you can’t hold yourself back from saying, “You’re so beautiful, do you know that? Seriously, you’re the prettiest man-slash-anthropomorphic-personification I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” The words are heavy on your tongue, but you’re pretty proud of the way you only barely stumble through ‘anthropomorphic’.
“You are still under the influence,” he notes.
“So? Drunk words equal sober thoughts, right?”
“‘A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.’ Jean-Jacques Rosseau,” he supplies.
“Sure, that. I’d tell you how pretty you are even if I was sober, and you know that.”
“Perhaps.” He says it in that infuriatingly sexy way of his, the one that makes you want to tear his clothes off.
Instead, you’re the one taking your own clothes off, though not for any fun reason. Getting changed is not as difficult a task as it would have been when you first arrived home, with the benefit of time naturally sobering one up on your side. Morpheus still keeps a hand held out, just in case you lose your balance and need something to grab onto, but after you’ve finished changing, that hand slips under your shirt and caresses your side.
“Thought you were supposed to be helping me keep my clothes on,” you say with a shiver, grabbing his wrist and pulling the offending extremity out from under your shirt.
“Apologies.” His tone implies that he’s not sorry at all, not that you would want him to be. “I simply couldn’t resist.”
He looks down at you with so much love in those blue eyes of his that you feel like you don’t think your mortal mind could ever truly comprehend it. Nobody has ever loved you the way that Morpheus has—all-consuming and passionate. He told you once that many of his relationships had ended because he had been seen as too intense, too obsessive in his love. Bring it on, you had told him when he expected you to back down. To date, you haven’t regretted that.
You don’t think you ever will.
Now that you can see the end of your night in sight, tiredness begins to seep into your bones. Though your bed is just right through the bathroom door, it feels miles away. With that in mind, you ask, “Will you carry me?”
“Were you not worried that you would feel sick?”
“Yeah, but I’m tired.” You pout (on purpose because you know what it does to him), and you can practically see his resolve break. “Just be careful?”
“Always,” he promises.
And careful he is, slowly picking you up and waiting until you nod to carry you to your bed. He sets you down gently, You’re thrilled to see a glass of water already waiting for you on your bedside table, Morpheus anticipating your needs before you’ve even realized you have them in the first place.
Crawling under the covers after finishing your water, you motion for Morpheus to sit next to you on the bed. He does as you ask, and you move your pillows so that you can sit up and lean on him. When you’re comfortable, you say, “Thank you for everything tonight. I know taking care of me wasn’t what you had planned.”
“You need not thank me. I enjoy caring for you, no matter the situation.”
Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his hand carding through your hair, and you start to feel yourself inching closer to the Dreaming. Something keeps you from truly falling asleep, though, and when Morpheus shifts next to you, you realize what it is: the conversation’s not over. Morpheus is trying to figure out how to say what it is he wants to say.
Finally, he figures it out. “Might I ask you something?”
You open your eyes to give him your full attention and nod.
“Earlier, when you seemed surprised that I had noticed your absence. Did you do this,” ‘this’ being getting very drunk, “because of what I said?”
“No. I mean, I went out because I was mad at you, and I figured that me being a couple of hours late would make you learn your lesson, but I got drunk because I wanted to have fun with my friends and let loose.”
“And did you?”
“Maybe a little too much,” you admit cheekily.
“I apologize for my harsh words the other day. I have been…feeling burdened under the weight of my realm, and I took it out on you for no reason.”
“It’s okay, Morpheus. You’re busy running an entire realm and overseeing the collective unconscious. I shouldn’t be so needy.”
He shakes his head. “It is not okay. I should never talk to you in such a way, and you should never feel as though I do not want you around. I do want you around, always.”
“People say things that they don’t mean. That doesn’t mean they’re not worthy of forgiveness. But you gotta talk to me, okay? When you’re feeling stressed, or when things get to be too much. I’m here for you, and I want to support you however I can.”
“I love you,” he says. The fact that he’s being so open with his emotions is a pleasant surprise; it took him so long to be the first to say it, and even longer to be comfortable with it. You smile up at him.
“I love you, too. Stay with me until I fall asleep?”
“Of course.”
Morpheus turns your bedroom light off without you needing to ask (seriously, you love him so much), and you close your eyes. Then, a thought hits you.
“Hey,” you say, staring up at him in the dark and waiting until he looks at you to continue. “Can you get drunk?”
“No.”
“Why not? I mean, isn’t there special alcohol for preternatural beings? You’d think gods and goddesses would’ve figured out a way to get turnt by now.”
Though he doesn’t want to give in to your rambling when you’re meant to be trying to fall asleep, he can’t help but indulge you. “Gods and goddesses can. We, the Endless, cannot.”
“What? That’s so fucking lame. No. That’s–that’s an injustice! I’m so sorry.
“I promise, it is okay. Now, please go to sleep.”
You nod, but close your eyes for maybe thirty seconds before they snap open again with a realization. “Wait.”
“What?”
“You mentioned other gods and goddesses. How many are there? Are they all real? Is actual God real? I mean, I know the devil is real, you kicked their ass for your helm, but for some reason that’s more believable than–”
“Go. To. Sleep,” Morpheus commands.
“Ugh, you’re no fun!”
“I am not afraid to use my sand if need be.”
“You wouldn’t.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and he raises one right back. After a brief stalemate, you’re the first to give in. “You have to understand how world-altering this information is to a regular human like me, I mean–”
You’re asleep before your head hits the pillow.
#morpheus#morpheus x reader#morpheus imagine#dream of the endless#dream of the endless x reader#dream of the endless imagine#the sandman#the sandman imagine
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heavenly. ~ morpheus x reader (18+)
Summary: There are no words for how heavenly the sight of Morpheus falling apart underneath you is. II smut
Words: 719
Warnings: smut smut smut
Pairing: Morpheus x fem!Reader
Head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted, hair tousled – a memory of your hands gripping it when he slid inside of you –, Morpheus is a sight for the Gods as you move on his lap.
The sounds escaping his mouth when you leave a trail of kisses on his neck are downright heavenly and the way he grabs your thighs, fingers burying themselves into the softness of them, makes you shiver.
The moonlight dimly illuminates his pale face and the stars and galaxies move slowly in the inside of his coat that he spread underneath you. When your name falls from his lips, soft and murmured like a prayer not meant for your ears, he shows you his true essence for the first time, becoming the very definition of a dream.
You lean back, looking for support on his legs, to see him better, to drink up his presence, drown in his sounds, melt in his touch.
“You’re distracted.” It’s a statement or an accusation, you’re not sure but it bothers you nonetheless. You don’t want him talking, you want to hear what sounds you can draw out of the Endless with the simple movement of your hips.
His eyes are now open, hands holding on even tighter. You don’t stop and feel him shudder. “I’m watching you,” you whisper into the night, a smile tugging on your lips. “Not such a bad idea after all, wasn’t it?”
He hears the challenge in your tone, the spark in his eyes tells you and the raspy tone confirms it. “I still prefer you underneath me, my love.”
You roll your eyes and your rhythm changes. You speed up, hips moving in the most delicious way and it makes him fucking moan. “Keep telling yourself that,” you chuckle, knowing full well that he will get back at you for this later on. But now, he is too occupied with the way you feel all around him.
Your breath hitches when he presses you down onto him and his hips rock up. A curse leaves your mouth that turns into whimpers and soft moans as he moves with you. One of his hands travels down but you push it away. He groans.
“Later,” you murmur. Now, you want to see him being lost in you, want to see him unravel. The thrill that rushes through your body feels unreal – it’s the pure thought of the God of Dreams, an Endless, falling apart from your touches, that turn you on even more.
Morpheus is close, you can feel it. His voice grows darker, his moans louder, and in your own body, the knot tightens. It tightens and tightens and when his movements begin to lose control, become more erratic with each thrust, it doesn’t take long for you to see stars in front of your eyes. You come, soft and trembling, back arching and with his name on your lips. He follows you shortly after and fuck, you just know that the image of him will never leave you again.
The waves of your orgasm wash over you and suddenly you lack any strength to hold yourself up any longer. He wraps an arm around you when you sink down to rest on his chest. He’s still breathing heavily, even when his fingers trace lazy lines on the skin of your body. You smile.
“You are awfully proud of yourself right now, aren’t you?”
The smile only widens at his words. “I have every right to be, Dream Lord,” you tease him. “I proved you wrong.”
He laughs silently underneath you. “Did you now?”
“Mhh,” you make and prop yourself up on the elbows. “Admit it, you loved having me on top of you.”
He watches you, mischief in his eyes. “Not more than having you underneath me.”
“As if. I believe the whole Dreaming heard you just now.”
He moves quick. So quick that you can’t help but yelp as he flips you over, pinning your wrists above your head. His lips hover about yours, his breath a ghostly touch, and your heart starts to beat faster. “My love, it doesn’t matter if they heard me. They didn’t hear you,” he murmurs, “and I believe that is the true shame here.”
They hear you after that, Morpheus makes sure of that.
thank you for reading! <3
masterlist
#the sandman x reader#morpheus x reader#morpheus x you#sandman x you#sandman fanfiction#morpheus imagine#sandman imagine#dream x reader#dream of the endless x reader#the sandman morpheus x reader#the sandman morpheus x you#the sandman dream of the endless x reader#sandman x reader#dream x you#sandman x reader smut#morpheus x reader smut#the sandman x you smut
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𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐬' 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐈.
⊹ pairing: morpheus x reader
⊹ summary: the much awaited, i-went-to-hell-for-inspiration, morpheus' love languages part 2: nsfw version. how he expresses his love languages when fucking you
⊹ tags: nsfw, morpheus is an adoring, reverent, woman-worshipping Endless who's always on his knees, the king of dreams is a giver
⊹ warnings: explicit language, explicit content (obviously), minors stay back (not that ever stopped me. if you are a minor, just know that sex might not be like this and do more research)
⊹ word count: 3027
⊹ previous part: morpheus' love languages part i.
⊹ now playing: take me to church by hozier
words of affirmation though he isn't the most vocal as an Endless, he does become vocal as a lover. or, specifically, he wants you to be. remember when i said he likes it when you talk to him? this applies here. (of course, by the time he's done with you, you won't be able to form words. but he'll accept desperate mewls of his name.)
call him by his name
not dream, but morpheus
gasp, groan, grunt, scream, whimper, murmur — every adjective of ‘said’ — say it in that way. he loves when you say his name and he the different ways you say it is akin to music. and if you whisper it right in his ear, his name hot against him so he can feel your desperation, he might just give you what you want and fuck you harder and faster
you tried to hold your moans back once
biggest mistake of your life
it doesn’t matter if you were only trying to hold back because you were in the library and mervyn, lucienne, and matthew were just three shelves down having a very serious meeting
though normally private in pda, perhaps that day morpheus was too frustration in being king and just wanted to be your lover. only a king had to worry about looking good in front of others. as your lover, all he had to worry about was pleasing you, and hearing the sounds you make was his signal that he was doing well
you thought that the sound of the shelves being rocked, your heavy breathing, and a book falling every now and then was telling enough what you were doing, and yes, you were a bit embarrassed to be found in such a compromising position with your skirt bunched up to your waist, one leg hooked around morpheus, and your head tilted to the sky as he attacked your neck
so when you bit down on your lip and slapped a hand over your mouth to hide your moans?
he is insulted (and you know how petty he gets) and fucks you even harder and faster than before
hoists both of your legs around his waist so he’s even closer and hits a spot in you that has you moaning obscenely and seeing stars. there’s no use hiding or explaining that away, but you don’t even think of the others anymore. all you can focus on is how he slams repeatedly into you again and again, one had rubbing furious circles on your clit, whispering orders in your ear to never deprive him of your sounds ever again
that as his lover, he owns every part of you (he definitely owns me), including those delicious sounds he purposefully and rightfully earns
and when you start making those sounds again, he is so fucking pleased with himself that he gets even harder
your hand falls from your mouth on its own and finds his hair, tugging on it, harder and harder as you reach your peak and he follows shortly after when you clench around him—all done with a loud cry of his name from you and your name coming out as a pleading grunt from him
when the two of you finally catch your breath, you peek around the shelves and find them gone
morpheus smirks at you before dragging you to the table for part two since “they’re not here anyway.”
always asks for consent
no matter how caught up he is in his emotions or pleasure, always asks you if you’re doing alright and if he’s doing alright touching your body
this man has a praise kink. tell him he’s doing well
tell him he’s fucking you so good as tears run down your cheeks and he’ll all but cum in you in that moment
tell him you were made for him as he bottoms out in you, and he’ll flip you over to your stomach and have his way and ruin you, leaving you a rambling mess who’s only coherent thought is his name
“you can take a little bit more of me, can’t you?” he whispers against your ear as you bite your lip to hold back your whimpers as he pushes inch by inch further, deeper, closer, into you. “you’ll do that for me?”
“you’re gonna make me cum” > “i’m going to cum”
he’ll make you squirt in thanks for reminding him that you’re orgasm is a product of his hard work
did you see how he pleaded with calliope to let him help her? imagine him begging to let him make you feel good
"i can make you feel so good, my love," he whispers as he puts one nipple in his mouth, suck and bite it gently, tugging on it, before releasing it and going to the other one. "let me?"
praise talk is his dirty talk. more into overstimulation and praise rather than edging and degradation cause he’s too in love with you to ever say those things or have you think, even for a second, that you are anything less than too good for him
type of person to say “i love you” as he fucks you
at the most intense moments, like when he’s about to orgasm, he mindlessly rambles out pleads for you to always stay with him and he needs you and you’re the only thing he needs (say less)
so tell him you need him. tell him only he can make you feel this good. because he’s definitely a giver, and the best compliment you can give a giver is to thank them for their service and tell them they’re doing a good job
physical touch this is an Endless who falls hard and intensely in love, as we see with his past lovers. it stands to reason that he'd fuck the same way. he makes sure that he is touching every inch of your body and you are touching every inch of him
has a thing for walls
likes to fuck you against them. either your back to it with your legs wrapped around his waist, or the side of your face pressed against it with your hands on either side as he takes you from behind
he will also eat you out with your back against a wall. makes it his personal mission to make your legs woozy enough that you literally collapse and he has to hold you up or you’re falling on the ground
overstimulation
worships your body
kissed every inch of your body once
on the days that you don’t feel the most confident, he’ll whisper his gratitude towards those parts against your skin until you believe him
is still a sucker for eye contact
looks up through his lashes as he eats you out
looks down at you as he fucks into you
but just because he wants to be gentle and passionate with you, doesn’t mean you can’t be rough with him. in fact, he welcomes it
tug his hair hard as he eats you out and you’ll hear the most guttural groan which you’ll feel vibrate in your cunt
dig your nails down his back and his hips will snap against yours in a speed that reminds you your lover is not a man, but an Endless
suck and bite his neck and enjoy watching him gasp and tighten his grip against your hips, enough to leave his handprint on your skin
however, there is one time you can elicit some roughness from him, and that’s when you ride him
you’ve ridden him on his throne
it was your idea the first time, and his idea every time after
legs on either side, his arms wrapped desperately against your waist as you slam down onto him and he slams up against you
he grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs your head backwards (see gif as example), exposing the column of your neck which he can mark and litter with kisses and bites
a very passionate lovemaker and puts emotions other than lust into it. when you two have sex, he doesn’t just do it to get rid of frustration or because he feels lust for you, but because he loves you enough to want to share this other part of him that so few get
is the type to link your hands together while he slides in and out
presses his forehead against yours when on top of you. he expects you to do the same when you’re on top
if he’s not waiting at your cunt with an open mouth as you orgasm, then he’s kissing you, as if to swallow the sounds of pleasure you make and further drowning in you
can unclasp your bra with one hand
pulls your underwear down with his teeth
bites on thighs
and neck
and chest
i’m not saying this man cries during sex (not that there’s anything wrong with that). but he does constantly have glassy/teary eyes during the show, so don’t be surprised if he gets a bit overwhelmed with his feelings for you and shed a tear or two
just kiss it away
acts of service he's always worshipped you before his capture, but after, he turns into a sinner looking for absolution from the only higher being he'd beg from. and the first step to absolution is looking for it on his knees
the first time you have sex after you reunite, he begs for forgiveness for being gone from you so long in his throne room
sits you on his throne and sinks to his knees before you
doesn’t even bother locking the door because he has no shame in anyone seeing him beg for absolution to you
and he doesn’t hold back from it either, alright? this Endless is making the most obscene noises as he loudly slurps and groans at the taste of you and moans at the sounds of you and ruts against his throne at the feeling of you, you, you
the first time you cum, he doesn’t stop and keeps fucking you with his tongue until he triggers a second one less than a minute later
he’ll add a finger soon enough
crooks it at just the right spot that it presses against the spongy part of you that makes your back arch off the throne and cum for the third time. at this point, your cum has started to drip off his throne, and he thinks about adding it as a design to his chair (you slap him on the back of his head as a no)
inserts another finger and starts pumping it in and out, in and out, even doing a scissor motion every now and then. you come the fourth time
the fifth time, he does all that plus play with your clit with his tongue. flicks at it, sucks on it, does everything you can possibly imagine be done with a tongue and two fingers until you squirt
and he still drinks it all. he takes those two fingers and uses it to scoop up all your cum and drinks it all
he always swallows whatever he’s able to draw out of you and whatever you’re willing to give him
and don't forget to sit on his face
he'd be more than happy to die underneath you, smothered by your thighs and cunt
if you try to do hold back and hover over his face, he'll ask you first if you like to squat over chairs rather than sit on them, before grabbing your things and pulling you down and not releasing you until he's done
if it isn’t clear yet, this man is a giver. gets genuine pleasure when he is the one to give you pleasure and can probably cum just from seeing you orgasm from his ministrations (he has and has no shame in it)
it might be how his possessiveness shows. knowing that only he can give you orgasms that intense is something he prides himself on
probably why he doesn’t mind when others look at you. all he’s looking at is your reactions, and you never show interest. you never give them the looks or sounds you make with him, and that’s enough that he just sits back, smirks, and pities the poor person who tried to hit on you
quality time as kim namjoon says in all night: "we keep all the party in this room all night. we don't wanna put it on the brake, hold tight."
the first time you reunite, he eats you out for hours
only stops because your body literally cannot go any longer and you might pass out (he debates whether he wants you to but lets you rest)
but the first time he fucks you, he doesn’t stop until you’re a whimpering, drooling mess who’s only thought is morpheus
and you do pass out
he’s there when you come to, and he starts again
morpheus rarely does quickies. he’s too intense and long-term for that. he likes to take his time to worship you and he doesn’t want to end because he ran out of time or he has an appointment with someone else. when he’s with you, you’re all he’s thinking about
however, he does like to take his time teasing you
and by that, i mean he can give you little teasing touches all day to get you worked up
hand on your upper thigh when eating with others
presses his front against your back as he reaches for something in the cabinet
might even touch you through your underwear without giving you too much—just to keep you wanting and waiting
he can last a pretty long time, and sessions with him usually involve you cumming so many times that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to cum again (you will. he’ll show you)
always engages foreplay. involves a heavy make out session coupled with groping that leads you to being wet enough that he can just slip inside you
likes to fuck you where its comfortable for you—bed, a couch (walls are his guilty pleasure, though)
will fuck you anywhere in the dreaming, though, cause it’s all him
might even be more intense for him since he can feel whatever surface he’s fucking you on and how hard he’s fucking you or how tight and desperate you’re holding on to the edge of that table
morning sex isn't as common since that's when you wake up from the dreaming
night is definitely prime time for sex
you know you're in for a long time when you have sex before you're even in the dreaming. when that happens, you better hold on, since you'll wake up more exhausted than before you slept
gift giving could be into toys, but he has to be the one who made it and he has to be the one using it on you. but why would you need toys anyway when you can have his cock
might be offended if you think he needs to use a toy to get to orgasm, as it suggests that he’s not enough
and if you say you want a toy just for the times he’s busy, he’ll tell you that he’s never too busy to give you an orgasm and proves it to you in that point
you’ll have to tell him that you can’t take enough if you want him to stop
rather, he uses toys to overstimulate
vibrator on clit while his tongue searches deeper in your fold or vice versa
the gift he does like to give you is lingerie
he gives you an assortment of different colours in different materials
his favourite is whatever makes you feel the most confident
gives you lingerie that is meant to be ripped off you
when he rips a set of lingerie that you actually really liked, he’ll apologize with kisses and promises that he’ll make you more before fucking you senseless
buys you lingerie from la perla. when you wear it to sleep and you arrive in the dreaming in it, he preens in delight
sometimes, he’ll give you lingerie from the dreaming while you’re in the dreaming. that’s completely under his control, and he can make it disappear in an instant
speaking of giving you toys in the dreaming, if he makes it, that he can get behind cause he has absolute control over it. his finger becomes the remote
that little underwear he gives you? with no warning, starts to fucking vibrate during dinner with lucienne. doesn’t ease up until you get up, flushed and with wobbly knees, and run to the hallway where you cum with a poorly concealed moan
when you return to the table, he looks to you with a knowing smirk. thankfully, lucienne remains unaware (or at least has the courtesy of pretending to be)
in the waking world, you like to wear his clothes after you wake up. in return, he takes your underwear
when you fuck in the dreaming, you wake up drenched and with a wet spot on your blanket. he sends you a new blanket as an unfelt apology which he’ll ruin the next night anyway
back to his greatest gift to you being his cock
i see him longer than wider (but not long enough to hurt you. 27-inch dick fanfic writers, stay back). you know, keeping in theme with his whole lean yet lanky physique
might be long enough that you can’t deepthroat him completely, though he appreciates the attempt
but the one time you steel yourself and manage to take him in all whole
nearly cums in your mouth immediately
wouldn’t expect you to do that all the time, of course. but on the special occasion that you want to put the focus on him, that’s the way to go
the way to morpheus’ heart is not through his heart, but through swallowing
all in all, this Endless is guaranteed to find his pleasure in yours, so make sure to tell him that he's doing well, keep your moans loud and uncontrolled, and he'll fuck you out of this universe
𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗂𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 — 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗋, 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖾.
𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅-𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍-𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 (𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌). 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀.
╰┈➤ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!
𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @aurorarevenclaw1927
#the sandman imagine#morpheus imagine#morpheus x reader#dream imagine#dream x reader#dream of the endless x reader#sandman fanfiction#dream fanfiction#sandman imagine#sandman headcanons#morpheus headcanons#the sandman#morpheus smut#dream smut#morpheus love languages#i'm not going to hell because i'm already here and wrote it in hell#written in hell
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Imagine Death doting on you to Dream…
Death exhaled and placed her hand into the pocket of her jeans. “You know for the longest time we thought that you and Y/n had run off together. Dream and Eternal Hope - kind of makes sense.”
A smile danced itself onto Dream’s features, not missed by his sister, as the thought of being away from his duties and spending his never-ending days with you.
“I would never willingly remove Y/n from their passion of casting hope onto humanity. I could never.” Dream replied.
Death squeezed her brothers arm and looked away onto the manmade city horizon. “It’s a shame. I would have thought that Y/n fit right into the family.”
Dream watched an elderly woman pluck a flower from her bouquet and hand it to an inquisitive little boy. The boys eyes shone with wonder and hope.
“No.” He said simply. “Y/n makes this family better.”
~ More imagines here ~
#theladyofmanyfandoms#theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction#gif is not mine#dream imagine#dream x reader#king of dreams x reader#king of dreams imagine#morpheus imagine#morpheus x reader#sandman x reader#the sandman imagine#sandman imagine#the sandman x reader
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Can I request a morpheus x reader where his s/o has curly/wavy hair? Or just reader being obsessed with touching his hair and he absolutely love it and he likes to do the same
Mid-Afternoon Dream
(Morpheus x Gender-Neutral Reader)
Synopsis: Morpheus enjoys his moment of peace with you.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 430
A/N: Thank you for being patient with me! I went with the second half of your idea since I like to try and keep Reader as up-to-interpretation as possible. I hope you enjoy!
You were lying on your couch, music playing softly from your record player. Spring was slowly shifting into summer, enough that you had opened your windows to feel the breeze drift through your home.
The early afternoon rays filtered in, and everything seemed brighter and newer in that way only the warm weather brought. For this moment, everything was peaceful.
Even Morpheus couldn’t find fault in it. Not when his head rested on your chest, and you were carding through his hair to the base of his neck. Your nails gently dragging down his scalp to the ends of his strands would’ve made him shiver if he were human.
You’ve been like this for some time now, relaxing in each other's arms. It was a rare moment for the Dream King. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt this content. Though, it’d been happening more frequently since he’d met you.
When he’s working, his mind often wondered to you, what you were doing, when he would see you, it’d become ever the distraction—be it a welcomed one.
He hummed as your nails traced his neck, and you giggled lightly. He squeezed your side in return.
Never had he thought he’d let anyone see him like this, not after all those years in that cage. But there was something in you that called him. He could let his guard down around you. And it was easier than he thought.
You opened your arms to him and all he had to do was step closer.
You placed a kiss on the top of his head, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Have I put the Sandman to sleep?” you teased.
He answered with his eyes closed. “You are the only creature capable of such a feat.”
“You deserve some rest.” He could hear your smile, but there was seriousness, too. It made him lift to his elbow to look at you.
You stared at one another a few moments until you reached out a hand to cup his cheek. Your thumb grazed his skin reverently, seemingly amazed that he was before you now.
The corner of your lips ticked up as you took him in. This otherworldly being that wasn’t really a being at all. He was too perfect. It only made sense that he was a concept, one that provided all with the ability to escape, to wrap themselves in imagination, to set themselves free.
“My Dream,” you whispered, almost like you hadn’t meant to.
His eyes softened. His own hand reached up to caress your hair.
“My heart.”
Tags: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline, @fictional-hooman, @steph-speaks, @ladyredstar1991, @secretdreamlandmentality, @ababycake, @morpheuss1mp, @boofy1998, @alice-the-nerd, @herfantasyworldd, @poemfreak306, @tronnily, @commanderfreethatdust
Let me know if you want to be added to the list!
#morpheus#dream#dream of the endless#morpheus fluff#dream fluff#dream of the endless fluff#morpheus x reader#dream x reader#dream of the endless x reader#morpheus x gn!reader#dream x gn!reader#dream of the endless x gn!reader#morpheus x gender neutral reader#dream x gender neutral reader#dream of the endless x gender neutral reader#morpheus x you#dream x you#dream of the endless x you#morpheus fanfic#dream fanfic#dream of the endless fanfic#morpheus one shot#dream one shot#dream of the endless one shot#morpheus imagine#dream imagine#dream of the endless imagine#morpheus imagines#dream imagines#dream of the endless imagines
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𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 (𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬)
Pairing: Morpheus / Dream x (female) Reader
Summary: being reunited with your lover, Morpheus, after he’d been captured for nearly a century
Warnings: angst, smut, tiny bit of dry humping I guess?, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex (m+f), multiple orgasms, minors DNI
A/N: here we are adding another pale emo boy to my never ending list of men I’d like to fuck lmao! title is of course from Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics! I hope you guys like this <33
p.s. this was not properly proofread bc I was in a rush to post it before I left for holiday so I’m so sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes, hopefully it’s still readable lmao
This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. By clicking ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.
“Here’s here! He’s back!” Lucienne pants as she barges through your door, or what was left of it at least.
You sit upright from where you were lying on the bed.
“What?” You squeak.
“He’s back. Morpheus. He’s here. He’s back at last,” she smiles at you, elation and sadness both mixing in her eyes.
You waste no time in following her, the two of you running through the ruins of your once beautiful castle until you reached the throne room. Your breathing fast and shallow, your heart pounding ferociously in your chest.
“Morpheus!” You all but sigh in relief as you finally lay your eyes on your lover.
He was standing by his throne, one hand rested on its back, dressed in his usual dark attire. For a moment your breath hitches in your throat. For a moment it was almost as if he’d never left, as if he’d been there, where he belonged, all this time. But your reverie is quickly broken when you feel the pang in your chest, the pain as it hit you again just how long your lover had been kept from you.
“My love,” he calls back quietly, his tone as serious and calm as it ever was.
He descends the stairs slowly, making his way towards you. You didn’t have it in you to be as calm and reserved as him. You raced towards him, closing the the distance between you as quickly as you could. You almost don’t stop when you reach him, you just crash into him. Your arms fling desperately around his neck, pulling him down into you. His hands snake around your waist and pull you flush against him, his palms flattening against your body, his fingers digging into your back.
You bury your face into his chest, titling upwards to nuzzle against his neck. He buries his own face into your neck, the warmth of his breath tickling your skin, making your hair stand on end. Your hands wander up his neck, moving to run through his hair, tugging it tightly, afraid that if you let go he’d somehow disappear again. You’re so lost in the moment, of having Morpheus back in your arms, you almost completely forget about Lucienne until she clears her throat lightly.
“I’ll, er, let you have some time alone,” she murmurs.
Morpheus raises his head slightly to nod an acknowledgment at her. As soon as she’s exited the throne room you tug him down by his hair, crashing his lips against yours. You both moan desperately into the kiss as your mouth greedily devours his, as if you could somehow make up for a century of having his lips parted from yours.
You didn’t need to talk, to say anything. There were no words to comprehend this moment. Instead you let all your feelings pass to him though your lips; a century of torment parted from your lover, a century of aching for him, of feeling so empty and incomplete. ‘I missed you’ simply wasn’t enough.
You moan softly again as you push your body against his even harder, arching your back and curving yourself into him. You feel a gentle smile tug at Morpheus’ lips as his hands hold you even tighter against him. Your hands move to tug at his long coat, pushing it off his shoulders. He lets the coat slip off his body before he presses into you even harder than before, walking you back a few paces.
You gasp in surprise against his lips when you feel something hit the back of your knees. You twist your head to suddenly see a magnificently large bed placed behind you. The sheets were black silk, it’s frame made from darkest of brown woods, gothic twists and turns carved into it’s structure.
It was beautiful. It was Morpheus.
“I almost forgot how much I missed that trick,” you smirk, referring to Morpheus’ ability to manipulate everything around you in the dreamworld.
Morpheus just hums deeply against your lips, his fingers digging into your hips as he tilts you further backwards, gently lying you down on the grand bed. He moves to kneel at the edge of the mattress, pausing briefly to slip off his black t-shirt and toss it to the floor. You feel your heart flutter with a mix of pain and excitement as your eyes take in the sight of his pale torso. He looked exactly the same, exactly as you remembered him. The nostalgic familiarity of his body causes a flood of emotions to surge through you, a tear blinking in your eye.
Morpheus notices your tears as he leans down over you, positioning himself above you, his hips against yours. He shushes you gently, bringing a hand to cup your face, his thumb swiping at your fallen tears.
“Shh, I’m here now, my love. I’m here,” he whispers before kissing you gently again.
Suddenly the messy urgency of before dissipates, melting into a languid and lazy kiss, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. Your hands roam over his torso, revelling in the smooth skin you hadn’t touched for a century. You feel the soft contours of his body, the ripple of his muscles as he holds himself above you. You scratch your nails down his stomach, eliciting a deep groan from Morpheus. You stop your movement just short of the small trial of dark hairs on his lower abdomen, sliding your hands back up his body until they clasped around the back of his neck once again.
As Morpheus kisses you his body starts to slowly rut against yours. You can feel the buckle of his belt dig into your lower belly as he grinds himself on top of you. Another moan passes your lips when you feel how hard he is; his cock straining against his dark jeans and poking between your thighs. You shiver and whimper when he moves his hips further forwards, pushing against your clothed pussy, providing the tiniest amount of friction.
Your hips buck up into the movement, humping him just as fervently as he was humping you. Your back arches, your covered chest pushing against his bare one. Slowly the urgency and desperation from before starts to creep back into your kiss, into your bodies. His mouth starts to attack yours more hungrily again, his lips moving faster and more greedily against your own. Your hands tug on his hair again, silently pleading him for more. His hands run down your body, grabbing at your hips and giving them an almost painful squeeze.
“Morpheus please,” you whisper. “I need you,” you whine, pushing your hips up against his for emphasis. “I need you to fuck me.”
He groans deeply again at your words, his fingers almost trembling where they held onto your hips. His eyebrows furrow, his face twisting in contemplation, almost as if he was fighting with himself, or fighting to control himself.
“I- I want to take my time with you, love,” he murmurs against your lips.
You shake your head lightly, your nose bumping against his.
“We can take our time later. We have all the time in the world now you’re back,” your sigh against his lips. “But right now, I just want you to fuck me. Please. Please,” you plead with him.
You continue to murmur the word ‘please’ against his skin as you kiss down his jaw, along his throat. You make your way to the spot just below his ear, the one you knew always drove him absolutely wild. Once you find the spot you bite gently at his pale skin, sucking quickly to pull a bruise to the surface; you were determined to show the worlds, dreaming and waking alike, who Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams himself, really belonged to.
Morpheus grunts when you suck harshly on that sensitive spot. His hands run up your body quickly again, snagging on the hem of your shirt and hurriedly lifting it free of your body. He groans deeply when he realises you weren’t wearing a bra, his gaze burning as he takes in the sight of your perfect tits. It seems he practically has to force his gaze away as he sits up and begins to make quick work of undoing the fastenings of your jeans. You shimmy your hips, helping him as he tosses them aside. You sit up, ferociously crashing your lips against Morpheus’s again as your shaky hands fumble desperately with the fastenings of his own jeans.
But he pulls your hands away, not so gently shoving you back down onto the mattress. He looks down at you with a commanding glare in his eyes. You move to sit up again but he grabs your jaw in his hand, pushing you back yet again until you were lying hapless on the bed.
“Morph-“ you whine, cut off when he squeezes your jaw.
“I will take my time with you, my love,” his voice is a whisper and yet it holds all the command and authority of a king.
A whimper lodges in your throat as Morpheus starts to drag his hand down your body. He gives your throat a gentle squeeze before his hand is trialing down your chest, between the valley of your breasts, over your stomach, right down until he reached your navel. His gaze follows his hand, his eyes mapping your entire body as you squirm naked beneath his stare.
“I’ve missed this body,” he muses to himself, his eyes glazed, drunk on the sight of you. His eyes snap back up to yours before he adds; “I’ve missed you.”
He looks at you with such an intense and sad gaze that you feel your heart twinge again, a tear pricking your eye. You take one of your hands and place it over his where it still rested on your lower abdomen.
“I’ve missed you too,” you squeak, giving his hand a squeeze.
He flashes a soft smile, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips so that he could place a chaste kiss to your knuckles. Your heart twists at the gesture; it was something he used to do frequently before he’d disappeared. He bumps his nose against your knuckles before gently placing your hand back on your stomach. His small smile twists into a smirk when he finally leans forwards again, hovering over you. His lips land on your chest and begin following the same trail he’d just made with his hand.
You shiver as he kisses down your body, his lips somehow cold and yet burning like fire as they sear down onto your skin. You bite your lip as you look down at him, his eyes trained on yours even as he kisses lower and lower down your body.
When he finally reaches the apex of your thighs he first places a gentle kiss to your pussy lips. His hands move to tuck under your thighs, helping to hold you open. He flashes you that tiny beautiful smirk again before he finally licks a stripe up through your folds. You shiver at the sensation, throwing your head back immediately. It was almost outrageous how just the lightest of touches was already driving you wild; you are simply just horrendously desperate for your lover’s touch. And he was more than happy to oblige.
Morpheus licks through your folds a few more times, spreading a mixture of your arousal and his saliva all through your slit. A strained profanity slips past your lips when he finally starts to focus his attention on your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, his tongue swirling it languidly. Your hips buck, your body jerking under his touch as the feeling almost overwhelms you. You swear you can still feel his smirk as he brings one of his hands from under your thighs, moving it to splay across your lower belly again, pushing you down and pinning your hips to the mattress. You whine, a sound somewhere between frustration and pleasure.
“Mmm, I’ve missed your taste,” he groans against your cunt. “You always taste so exquisite. Just heavenly,” he hums.
You whimper, his name falling from your lips in a sinful moan. He reciprocates your moan, the noise vibrating through to your clit as he sucks it back into his mouth. Pleasure sears through your body, a fire inside that you’d not felt for over a century. Your head almost feels dizzy, your breathing shallow and fast, your skin tingling, your fingers and toes almost going numb as all feeling is focused in your core.
“M-Moprheus,” you whine, twisting your head to hide in the sheets, almost embarrassed by how quickly your orgasm was building.
Your thighs tremble and shake on either side of his head, your toes curling and pushing against his shoulders. He moans against you again as he feel you start to buck your hips more fervently against his face. He glances up at you and sees how you’ve twisted to cover your face, hiding the heat in your cheeks as your body surged closer and closer towards your climax.
“It’s okay, my love, just let go. I want you to let go,” he whispers gently.
You mewl, your fingers knotting harshly in his hair, your back arching and your neck twisting even further away from his stare.
“Look at me, lover, please. I want to see your face,” he pleads quietly. “I need to see how good I make you feel.”
Though he may be pleading there’s still that edge of command in his tone that lets you know it wasn’t really a request and there really wasn’t any room for arguing. You bite your quivering bottom lip as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You moan lewdly as you catch the sight of him between your thighs. His gentle blue eyes are somehow dark with lust, his hair even messier than usual from where your fingers were gripping it. You can just about see, as well as feel, the smirk on his lips as he keeps his tongue swirling over your clit, sucking softly at the same time. The sight and sensation of it all is finally enough to tip you over the edge.
“O-oh, fuck,” you barely manage to choke out as pleasure races through your entire body, spreading from your core right into the tips of your fingers and your toes.
You fight the urge to toss your head back and arch your spine as you desperately try to keep your eyes on his. You feel his smirk grow into a small grin of pride as he continues to just lightly suck on your clit, enough to prolong your orgasm without making you go too sensitive. When your body has finally given every ounce of pleasure it had to offer, for the moment anyway, he removes his mouth from your cunt and starts kissing your inner thighs again lightly.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs lowly against your skin, placing another kiss to your thigh. “You did so well for me,” he praises gently.
You slump back against the mattress again, your chest rising and falling heavily as you try to catch your breath. Morpheus just continues to kiss all over your thighs as he gives you a moment to recover, occasionally biting and sucking a hickey into your skin. Feeling the wetness of your euphoria on his chin and lips as he kisses over your skin feels deliciously filthy.
His hands stroke the back of your thighs and your ass, grazing over your hips, causing goosebumps to raise on your flesh, a shiver running through your whole body. Your hands loosen their grip on his hair, instead just stroking his head lightly as you try to relax and just revel in the feeling of being with your lover once again.
But it’s not long before you start to feel the ache build in your core again, your cunt clenching desperately over nothing as Morpheus kisses tantalisingly close to your pussy.
“Please,” you beg quietly, your head lulling to the side again. “Please Morpheus, I need you inside me,” you almost cry, your voice pitching in tone.
“Shhh,” he kisses the inside of your thigh. “All in good time, my love,” he promises.
He continues to kiss at your thighs for a short while before you feel one of fingers gently brush through your folds. You mewl at the feeling, at the promise of more. He swipes his finger through your slit, gathering the wet mixture of his spit and your cum. It’s like fireworks explode in your chest when you finally feel his finger push into you, slowly and gently stretching you open. You swear your body was about to combust when he’s quickly able to add another finger, your wetness making it all too easy for him to pump his two fingers in and out of you.
Your fingers knot tighter in his hair, yanking hard as he starts to curl his fingers, searching for that sweet spot inside you. He hums in satisfaction, kissing your thigh again when he hears a squeaky moan lodge in your throat, knowing he’d found the right spot.
“O-oh fuck. Yes...” you whisper with a shaky breath as he adds his mouth back into the mix, his tongue smothering over your clit again.
He curls his fingers in time with his tongue, stroking your sweet spot with the pads of his fingers as his tongue swirls circles around your swollen clit. Your body feels impossibly hot, the pleasure making you feel tingly as it races through you. Your orgasm builds even faster than before, rushing to the surface and breaking over your body. You can barely moan Morpheus’ name as he pumps and sucks you through your second high. You convulse and shake, your body almost twitching from the pleasure, your pussy clamping over his fingers as he slowly continues to curl them against that spot inside you.
Morpheus hums in satisfaction again as he steadily slows down his movements, slowly bringing you down from your high. He sits up, his eyes never leaving yours, before he gently pulls his fingers free from you. You gasp at the loss of contact but the sound quickly develops into a full blown moan when you see Morpheus bring his two fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean of your juices as he continues to stare you down.
You can’t wait any more; you needed this man to fuck you.
You didn’t even care how sensitive you were from your first two orgasms. You sit up and grab him by the back of his neck, yanking him harshly down until his lips collided with yours. Another moan escapes you as you taste yourself in his mouth, the tang of your arousal coating his tongue as it roamed over yours. You pull on the hair at the nape of his neck, arching your back and pushing your chest up against his, your perked nipples brushing against his skin.
Morpheus groans into the kiss as his body starts to move against yours, his still clothed hips slotting between yours. The tent in his dark jeans rubs against your pussy and sends a flare of euphoria through you again.
But it still just wasn’t enough.
Your fingers quiver as they fumble once again with the fastenings of his jeans; only this time he doesn’t move to stop you. You moan greedily into the kiss, your lips moving with an even more urgent hunger against his as you start to push his jeans and boxers down his hips. He breaks the kiss briefly as he shifts to remove his jeans completely, throwing them to join the rest of your clothes somewhere on the floor.
The sound that leaves your throat when you’re finally able to take in the glory of his naked body is almost indescribable. He was just so painstakingly beautiful it genuinely made your chest ache. You can’t bring yourself to wait any longer as you reach forwards to grab his glorious cock in your hand. You swipe your thumb over his red and swollen tip, gathering the pre-cum and swirling it around his head. Morpheus all but shudders as you do so, his eyes fluttering as he tries to keep himself under control.
You’re just about to start stroking him properly when his hand clamps over your wrist, giving a quick but firm shake of his head. You release his cock as he gently guides you to lie back on the bed, his body crawling over yours. His nose bumps yours as he gives you a desperate and messy kiss before you feel the wet and warm tip of his cock nudge against your folds. Your fingers curl and dig into his shoulders as you desperately try to pull him against you.
Morpheus grabs his cock and helps guide it through your slit, gathering the mixture of his spit and your cum and coating himself with it. Then, at long last, you finally feel him start to push inside you. A whimper escapes traitorously past your lips as you feel the dull ache of him stretching you open. You could feel just how tight you were around him as he slowly pushes himself into you, slowly slotting himself to the hilt, until you could feel his hips flush against yours again.
You feel the light tremor in Morpheus’ body, the slight tremble in his arms as he holds himself above you. His eyes close and his face twists with pleasure, and with concentration, as if he was pouring all of his focus into not cumming almost immediately at the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him after a century apart. His head hangs low, his fringe ticking your forehead as he pauses there for a moment, giving you a second to adjust, or giving himself a moment to gather himself before he loses himself completely to the feeling of you.
He takes a deep shuddering breath, searching your face. You nod quickly, bucking your hips again as you silently give him permission to move. He nods shortly himself before he obliges your request from the beginning and slowly but surely starts to fuck himself into you.
He’s barely started to move and already you can feel fireworks explode throughout your body. Your hips buck to meet his, your tits pushing up against his chest, your nails tearing at the skin of his shoulders. He shudders and groans as he feels you pulse around him, hugging his cock impossibly tight.
“Oh, my love, I’ve missed how good you feel,” he whispers with a deep groan, “how tight and perfect you are for me.”
HIs voice is so quiet, almost as if he’s rambling more to himself than to you. You can feel his breath tickling your face as he hovers just above you. His one hand holds himself up, resting just next to your head. His other travels across your waist, caressing the soft curves of your body. That same hand trails higher up your body, grazing the side of your breast until he reaches the apex of your arm.
You shiver, more goosebumps beginning to litter your skin as his fingers dance back down your arm. You mewl softly when his hand reaches yours, dancing over your palm until his fingers interlock with your own. He gives your hand a quick squeeze before he lifts it above your head, pinning it to the mattress behind you.
His name escapes your lips in a plea as he squeezes your hand again. At the same time he begins to speed up his thrusts. His pace is still relatively slow and steady; he puts all his effort is focused on trusting deep inside you, the tip of his cock brushing that spot inside you with each snap of his hips. With each thrust another cacophony of moans fly from your lips.
“I think most of all,” he continues through his shaky breathing, “I’ve missed the sounds you make. The way my name falls from your lips,” he pants hotly, his breath fanning over your face. “You are divine,” he groans through gritted teeth, “like the sweetest dream there ever was.”
You moan his name again as you feel your body coil again, the fire burning and building in your core with each brush of his cock inside you. Morpheus pushes his forehead down against your own, his nose bumping against yours as his own moans start to increase in frequency. You almost smile as you feel a small jolt of joy swell in your chest. His moans grow higher in pitch and you knew it was his telltale sign that he was close to finishing himself.
But you also knew he never let himself finish first. And, as you expected, as he always used to do, he brings his hand, the one not holding onto yours, down between your bodies. His fingers find your clit quickly, wasting no time in circling it with expert precision.
His eyes search yours desperately, a century of unspoken emotions passing between the two of you. You knew there were no words to describe how you both felt. No amount of letters would ever be able to encapsulate the enormity of torment that had been your time apart.
Instead you just let your bodies do the talking. The glaze of tears in his eyes letting you know how much he loved you. The hunger of his lips when they moved with yours showing you much he missed you. The tight grip on your hand signalling that he would never let you go; a silent promise that you’d never be parted again.
You lose yourself in the moment. Nothing else exists other than here and now. You pay no mind to the crumbling castle around you, the vast and empty space that stretches on forever. All you see, all you feel, is Morpheus. Your senses are clouded and overwhelmed by him. The sight his ethereal blue eyes boring into yours. The smell of him, light and clean, refreshing and comforting. The feeling of his smooth skin under your palms are you claw at his back. The wet sounds of his cock slipping in and out of you with ease. The gentle sounds of his heavy breathing and soft groans in your ear.
“Morpheus, I- I’m close,” you breathe, nudging your nose up against his.
He nods lightly; “let go for me, baby.”
You whimper, something akin to a sob, when you hear him call you ‘baby’. He hardly ever called you that despite knowing how much you actually loved it. The pet name, his fingers circling your clit, and another deep thrust of his cock inside you, finally work to tip you over the edge once again.
This climax was different to the others; it was more intense but not in a way that felt overwhelming or too much. It was just the prefect amount of pleasure and you swear your vision goes blurry as you reel from the sensation. Your eyes roll back slightly, your head lulling onto the pillow, your jaw going slack as your mouth hangs open in a silent O.
“Oh how I’ve missed that view; how beautiful you are when you fall apart for me,” Morpheus groans lowly as he keeps fucking into you slowly.
His hips jut raggedly against yours, his pace faltering and his thrusts turning sloppy as he fucks himself towards his own climax. You paw at his back with your free hand desperately as you encourage him to let go. You slide your hand up his neck and fist his dark hair again, pulling tightly in the way you knew he liked. And it worked, as not a second later his hips still completely as he lurches deeply against you, finally climaxing himself.
He pants shakily, deep groans falling from his parted lips as his cock twitches inside you. You sigh his name contently as you feel the warmth of his release flood inside you. His hand shakes where it still holds onto your own. His other hand had moved to squeeze your hip as he slowly rocks you both through the remnants of your highs.
The two of you just stare at each other for a second, the both of you trying to make this moment last for a century, as if this could make up for the century spent apart.
Morpheus smiles gently down at you, his hand moving from your hip to palm your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. You reach up to cup his face in return, your fingers softly tracing over his features. His eyebrows furrow when he sees a slight sadness behind your eyes.
“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly, twisting his face to place a gentle kiss to your palm.
“It’s nothing,” you shake your head slightly.
You sigh defeatedly before explaining further, warmth rising to your cheeks with a slight embarrassment.
“I want to say 'I love you', but the words seem somehow so small and insignificant, like they’d never be big enough to capture how I actually feel,” you whisper.
Morpheus just smiles gently, leaning down until his lips connected with yours in a gentle kiss. You both smile softly into the kiss when you feel the silent message pass from his lips to yours.
Perhaps words would never be enough to encapsulate how you felt about each other. But it didn’t matter. You could feel it in your heart. And, somehow, you just knew that he could feel it in his heart too.
Masterlist
A/N: just gonna tag my babies @mothdruid and @siempre-bucky as well bc I know how much they love this pale emo too!! I really hope you all liked this <33
p.s this will be my final fic for a short while as I’ll be away on holiday and taking a short hiatus from Friday onwards!
Taglist // Join My Nightmare Realm // Ko-fi
#stranger nightmare#the sandman#morpheus#morpheus smut#morpheus x reader#morpheus x you#morpheus x y/n#the sandman x reader#the sandman x you#dream x reader#dream x you#dream x y/n#the sandman smut#morpheus imagines#morpheus imagine#dream of the endless#dream of the endless smut#morpheus x female reader#the sandman x female reader#morpheus angst#the sandman angst#the sandman imagine#dream of the endless x reader#dream of the endless angst#dream of the endless imagine#morpheus oneshot
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A Silly Dream
Another idiots in love with Morpheus and female reader.
"… What did you just say ?"
Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dream of the Endless wasn't human, and therefore didn't think like a human. He had great difficulty communicating and understanding that there were things he shouldn't say or do if he didn't want to hurt people.
The problem was that even when she remembered that, she also remembered that he was an old being, so normally experienced and wise, the prince of stories and words, who yet kept behaving like a selfish, spoiled child who never learned from his mistakes.
"I just said I couldn't stay long for our meeting."
"No, after that. And, what 'meeting' ? We didn't have an meeting, it was you who came to my place."
"As with Hob Gabling every hundred years, I meet with you once a year, for you to give me your impression of the new dreams and nightmares, and in exchange I let you read an unfinished book from my library. But I am very busy and it will be difficult for me to stay more than an hour today."
He was really telling her that for all this time, more than a hundred years, their relationship was not at all friendly, but hardly professional, a simple obligation, which annoyed him but that he had the kindness to fill in each time ? Oh, Y/N felt really honored at that moment.
"… You're a jerk."
"I beg your pardon ?" wondered Morpheus, visibly very offended.
"I said you're a jerk. It's because of the kiss, right ? It's your way of telling me that I shouldn't have, and that I'm very lucky that you keep coming to see me instead of punishing me ?"
"You know I have to come see you."
"You're a real jerk. Go away, since you're so busy."
His face still impassive, Morpheus stared at her for a long time, as if he still didn't know what he should do, before standing up without saying anything and leaving.
The kiss had been stupid, Y/N agreed to admit it.
It had happened two years ago now, when she had just finished her review of the last nightmare he had created, and Dream was trying to explain to her why she was wrong in her reasoning.
It could have happened much sooner, because her heart had been beating for him and only for him for decades already, but before that day, she had always known how to keep her feelings buried deep inside her.
But this time, without her being able to explain why, while she admired his eyes deep as the ocean, his skin pale as the moon, listening to his lulling voice, Y/N had not thought, and she had kissed him.
Dream of the endless went silent. He had looked at her as if she had just stabbed him, and of course he had left without listening to her excuses, not finishing his sentence, but leaving her a book, because he had only one word.
She had strange dreams after that, where she was in a labyrinth, then in a castle, then in corridors, and always she had the feeling that she was looking for something without really knowing what.
Sometimes she saw Dream, sometimes a cat, and she began to follow him, never being able to catch up with him.
The following year he came back, they didn't talk about what happened, and everything seemed to be back to normal.
It hurt to think that all of this was actually just an obligation for him.
Y/N had met Hob several times. She knew that Morpheus was really bad with people, since it had taken him more than half a millennium to admit he had a friend, but she had also heard of his lovers, and so she knew that he was not incapable of feelings.
There had been the secret hope then that he liked her, at least a little. It was over now.
The next year, when he showed up on her doorstep with a book, Y/N wondered if he was more mean than stupid, or the other way around.
"I thought I told you to leave. I know you're terribly busy."
"The competition is indeed quite exhausting, but everyone else has given up for the day."
"Oh, you have a moment for me in your schedule ? Too kind. No, wait, we have a meeting, I forgot. Well, I'm busy. Goodbye."
"You do not want…"
"Bye." she repeated, closing the door in his face without taking the book.
It was the first time she hadn't taken the book. If he wanted to, Dream could have appeared in her apartment, or in her dreams, to scold her and throw the book at her, but he didn't.
Y/N didn't know if she was happy or disappointed.
Meanwhile, the bizarre dreams continued.
This time, she was in the gardens of his castle, in the Dreaming. She knew it, because she had already been there. It was because of this stuff that she felt she was more than an obligation.
There were a lot of people in the gardens, some looking human, some not, and they were all looking for something.
Tired, Y/N decided that this time she didn't feel like running, and she sat down on a bench. A wing sound told her that a little spy had decided to join her.
"They all look ridiculous, don't you think ?"
"I don't know who they are or what they do, but I guess."
"They participate in the competition, of course." Matthew said with a desperate tone. "It's been so long now, what's it been, four years ? Five ? I don't know. Some like you have a point, others are starting to despair a bit. I wish they all despair and stop. The boss is tired."
"… What do you mean by 'I have a point' ?"
"The rules are simple, one kiss, one point. Two kisses, two points. Three kisses, the hand of the Master of dreams. None of them asked for his consent, wicked ones. Neither do you, I'm a bit disappointed, young lady. You're the least bad, but still. He was hurt, that was not good manners."
"Matthew… Matthew, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
The raven looked at her like she was stupid. Then he realized she must be really stupid.
"No… That can't be true ! You two are really the same. Two idiots, you deserve each other ! Idiots ! He was hurt, but happy ! He was waiting for the other kisses during your little dates in the Waking !"
"You're talking about our more or less professional and obligatory meetings that he doesn't have time to go to ?"
"What ? What do you mean by… He said something stupid, right ? Of course he said something stupid. You do stupid things, he says stupid things, when you could just kiss. God damn it ! He was grumpy last year, and sad this year, because he thinks you don't want to compete anymore. But you don't know there's a competition ! And you don't want to see him anymore, not because you don't like him, but because you think he doesn't like you ! Boss ! Boss, you really kill me sometimes !"
Y/N woke up not sure if she had dreamed or not. Of course, she had dreamed, and all dreams were real, but she didn't know if she had talked to Matthew, or if she had dreamed that she was talking to Matthew, which was not the same thing.
In one case, she could continue to hope stupidly. In the other, she was just plain stupid.
She got her answer when she came home from work one evening and found Morpheus on her couch. He looked smaller and more fragile than usual. Tired, as his raven said.
"I thought we already had our meeting this year." she said taking out her jacket, not knowing what she should do, or what he was going to do.
"We didn't. You were busy."
"Ah, yes. That's right. Tea ?"
"No, thank you."
Usually things were very simple. They greeted each other, talked quickly about the past year, then Y/N talked about her dreams and nightmares, saying why she liked them or not.
This time, they said nothing, sitting next to each other. Of course, he had brought a book, placed between them. She didn't know if she should talk about those weird dreams.
It was a new surprise when he spoke first.
"You're near my sister's realm lately."
"Which one ?"
"Despair."
"Oh. How is she ?"
"What do you think ?"
"I don't know, you are not really dreamy yourself. I mean, you are, just when you are not talking. The talking you is a real nightmare. But I meant, how is she, as in is she alright ?"
"I must say that I don't know."
"You should call her to ask, she's your sister. Except if she's a bad sister. I guess it's not my business. How are you ?"
"You never kissed me again. Why ?"
He was back, the child with his big deep eyes, his innocent look and his dangerous words. How could he say such important things without the slightest hesitation ?
Y/N found the courage to meet his gaze after taking a deep breath.
"I don't know. Maybe because you have to come see me, and you clearly didn't like the first time I kissed you."
"I appreciated that. I would have fully appreciated it under other circumstances, but at that moment I thought you were acting like the others, in order to win the competition."
Matthew wasn't wrong, they were both a bit stupid, and mostly unlucky. All of this was mainly a problem of bad timing, and communication. If Y/N had acted sooner, and if Morpheus had known how to talk, there would never have been any problems.
"Following your entry into the competition, I am obliged to join you, in order to give you a chance to steal two more kisses from me, under the same conditions as the first. All the others who succeeded having it done in the Dreaming, I do not have to meet them elsewhere."
"… So you've been obliged for two years. But before too, since you impose one meeting per year."
"I told you, I'm very busy. I wanted to make sure I can see you at least once, as much as possible, so it seemed safer to set a specific date."
Damn, he was a jerk. A lovely jerk, a sweet idiot, a pleasant fool.
"And so… You want to kiss me ?"
"I'm not allowed to give kisses, you have to take them. It's the rule."
"I don't like that rule. I didn't kiss you for that, I should have asked your permission, and I'm not going to do it again, that's wrong."
"So you don't want to kiss me." he whispered, looking disappointed.
"I don't wish to force you. I won't steal another kiss."
"You could ask me."
"And would that change anything ?"
"I can't give kisses, but I can give you permission."
During their little conversation, Matthew had been very clear, clear as he always was and much more than his boss who gave him a headache. Silently, for three years, Morpheus had been patiently waiting for Y/N to kiss him again, silently giving her his consent.
He had been too proud or too stupid to understand that he had to verbalize such things.
"Morpheus, I love you very much and I don't care about this competition, can I kiss you ?"
"You can." he sighed with relief and what looked like a smile.
This kiss was much nicer than the first. Probably because it had been desired for more than two years now. Y/N would have liked it to last forever.
"And… For the third one ? Do I have to wait until next year ?" she asked nervously, keeping her hands on his shoulders, thinking he would leave as soon as she let go.
"You can take as many kisses as you want, my love. You can take everything you want."
"Dream… My Dream…"
It was difficult to know what happened in the Dreaming at this moment. No doubt that Lucienne and Matthew announced to the other participants that they could leave because they had lost. Then the wedding planning began.
Y/N hadn't thought about marriage. She had only thought about Morpheus, silly Morpheus, and all the love she had for him. They would need to discuss all of this. But right now, she was too busy kissing him again and again, and him not devouring her with his endless passion.
"I'm glad it's you." he whispered against her lips. "I have to go now. We'll see each other tonight, I'll wait for you."
Being a man of his word, he left a book on the sofa before disappearing. A love story with a happy ending, maybe because he knew they would be fine, or just because he hoped they would.
Y/N read it before going to sleep to join her future kingdom, and her stupid prince of dreams.
#the sandman#dream of the endless#dream of the endless x reader#dream of the endless imagine#dream of the endless fanfiction#morpheus#morpheus x reader#morpheus imagine#morpheus fanfiction
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Rainy Season - Morpheus x Reader
[Spoilers for Brief Lives I guess?]
[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]
SUMMARY: Fed up with Dream's stubborn and at times childish attitude, you leave Dreaming. But when Morpheus's sorrow makes itself known, Matthew has to fetch you before the kingdom completely floods.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k
It’s a tumultuous morning in the Dreaming. Even if none of the dreams and nightmares are privy to the ongoing feud, they know something is wrong. It’s as though the air in the kingdom, the marrow of their bones, turned bitter last night. Their skin is crawling but the sun is shining as it did yesterday. They birds chirp the same song they had throughout centuries. And yet, against their better judgment, something is terribly out of place.
To be honest, you don’t even remember how all of this started but the damage is already done.
A frustrated scream ripples through your chest, "The world doesn't revolve around you!" You're fuming. There's only so much patience one person can hold and recently, Morpheus had proven himself exceptional at trying to reach its limit until he, unfortunately, succeeded today. "For someone who's supposed to know every thought ever entertained, you sure can not look past the tip of your own nose."
His eyes, cold and hurt, stare at you in utter confusion. Dark eyebrows furrow. "I do not know what you're expecting of me,” he states in an angry voice. It appears that he really does not understand the reason for your outrage. "I am not human, I am unable to look at the world as you do."
Of course he says that, you think to yourself. It seems to be his favorite line of defense. Dream of the Endless is a strange, eldritch creature. He doesn’t comprehend the world like a mortal does and, or some reason, he treats this fact of nature as an excuse not to try. At first, you thought it charming - to see the universe through the eyes of a creature you can barely begin to understand. Who wouldn’t? The strange wonder of the man in front of you made you seek his company again and again. Truthfully, there’s something poetic about it: the reason you’ve come back to him so many times might be the very reason you bid him farewell. For good.
"Good news, then: you don't need a cardiovascular system to exercise empathy.” Your sarcastic tone has an effect on Morpheus. He frowns, hurt by your words, only to grow angry that he’s so affected. Dream’s pride makes him want to not be influenced by your bitterness. Alas, he cares more than he’s willing to admit. "Not everything is about you, Morpheus, and until you realize that, I don't think we've got more to talk about. Goodbye."
Even after you shut the door behind you, the word echoes through the castle. The stone walls seem to whisper it back to Morpheus, rubbing the salt in his wound. How strange it is - to be haunted by somebody still alive. To be the king of dreams and feel hopeless. It would be funny if it didn’t make him want to be unmade.
A thunder rolls. A blue lightning splits the sky in two. Despite the lovely weather in the morning, it starts to rain in the Dreaming.
The storm doesn’t stop after a few hours nor does it cease after a few days. Black clouds cover the sky as they did four days ago. The only change is in the water level: the kingdom is flooded. When everyone thought the rain is bound to stop soon, no one minded much the rising tide. However, when the situation only worsened with no evidence that it’s going to improve in the near future, worried voices started to reach Lucienne. If the storm doesn’t cease in the next day or two, some parts of the Dreaming will share the fate of Atlantis.
If Morpheus knew he was being observed, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he doesn’t feel up for another confrontation. In any event, he remains still, standing against the balcony reiling, as his friends begin plotting:
"How is he?" Matthew whispers to Lucienne. "Has he moved from there at all? Ate something? Said anything?"
"That's three 'no's, I'm afraid,” she answers slowly. The librarian lets out a heavy sigh. "He's just dramatically standing there, wallowing in pity."
Dream really is 'just standing there’. Drenched. His hair and clothes are stuck to his pasty skin. It can’t be comfortable but it would appear that matters other than cosiness are on his mind at the moment. For the past few days, ever since you left, he hasn’t moved even a quarter of an inch. Truthfully, he looks about as alive as a marble statue, if monuments could appear excruciatingly miserable.
"Should we do something?" The raven continues. What he really wants to ask is 'What should we do?’ but Lucienne seems to catch the undertone of his words nonetheless.
"You could ask her to come back but no guarantee she'll want to,” she thinks out loud. "They've fought before but this time she looked really defeated."
Morpheus, although doesn’t need to breathe, sighs loudly. As he exhales, another lightning tears the sky apart.
"Alright, I'll try to convince her to talk to him again,” Matthew states. His worried voice makes him sound determined to have the two of you reconcile. "Hopefully, we'll be back before you need a canoe."
Lucienne doesn’t respond. As much as she doesn’t want to admit to her pessimism, she knows better than to have much hope in the matter of Dream’s love life.
Repetitive tapping on the window diverts your attention from the dishes you were washing. Seeing the black bird sitting on the outside windowsill, you quickly wipe your hands against the dishrag and jog to open the window.
"Matthew?" you ask in surprise.
He wastes no time pleading his case in a plaintive tone. "You gotta go back to him. Everything's gone to shit."
You furrow your eyebrows. Leaning against the wall, you cross your arms on your chest. "What do you mean?"
The raven hops closer to you. "It's been pouring nonstop since you left. He's just standing there, soaking wet and he won't talk to anyone."
It might sound sadistic but it’s a nice thought that he’s grieving your departure so severely. For what it’s worth, it means he’s not as blase as he likes to appear. Perhaps, Morpheus cares about you more than you’re even aware of.
"How bad is it?" you ask warily.
"How bad?!" Matthew screeches. "The House of Mysteries is so flooded, Abel is fishing."
It sounds like 'bad' is nothing more than an elegant euphemism. In his heartache, Morpheus is willing to let Dreaming decay and fall into partial ruin. If your accusation had been correct and Dream of the Endless truly is unable to care about anyone but himself, such a disaster would never have happened. A selfish ruler wouldn’t let his realm turn to rubble because of a broken heart. And if you’re more important than what he calls home, then…
"I'm assuming that's not a usual feature,” you give the raven a half-hearted response. The thoughts inside your head are in a painful turmoil, trying to lift the truth out of the indications.
"Yeah," he answers sarcastically.
Matthew glares at you in anticipation. Perplexed, you rub your arm without thinking much about it. Right, it's the mature and responsible thing to do but at the same time, why do you have to be the one to cave in every time you two fall out? If Morpheus cares for you as much as his dramatic show of pain and grief would suggest, shouldn’t it be him travelling across world and realms to reach you?
The raven cocks his head. Something about the look in his eyes changes as though his frustration has faded away or grown into desperation if not powerlessness. He’s tired and out of options.
"Alright, let's go," you say with a sigh. "But no promises. I still have pride and self-respect and he's still a stubborn..." you take a deep breath, "nevermind. Let's just go."
Miserable.
That's the only word that comes to your mind as you stare at him from afar. One would think that an entity of his sort can not be or look miserable but maybe this world is even stranger than you've thought. His clothes are drenched to the point of being see-through. Dark, once-tussled hair is now stuck to his face and neck. Dream's body looks even more stringy as his head is hanging low between his shoulders.
The rain is almost deafening. Your cautious, hesitant footsteps shouldn't be audible and yet Morpheus turns around to look at you when you come closer.
"I didn't think you'd come back," he says in a low, groggy voice. Dream's eyes, once blue and cold, are now red and unsettlingly vacant. Has he been crying? "What do you want?"
You take a deep breath. It was vain to expect him to welcome you with open arms. An eldritch being with a bruised ego and a broken heart could never make for a hospitable host. Even to those whom he misses the most.
"I still stand by what I said, it's just..." you hang your voice for a moment to find the proper words. Seeing him so broken by your fight makes some part of you want to renounce everything that lead to your argument. Anything just for him to be alright again. But the more reasonable side of you knows that such an action would only hurt both of you in the long run. "I admit, I could have said it in a more civilized way. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that harshness."
His gaze falls and Morpheus looks away for a moment.
Whether he's doing it consciously or not, the rainstorm ceases. Black clouds slowly drift away to uncover a clear, blue sky. Somewhere in the West, if there are cardinal directions in Dreaming, the sun is beginning to set. Despite the significant improvement, the air remains cold. A harsh wind nips at your drenched form. In a vain attempt to shield yourself from the discomfort of the weather, you put your arms around your torso. Still, your body trembles.
"Perhaps I should have put more effort into understanding your concern. I'm..." he turns silent for a second. His lips are apart but no sound is coming out of his mouth. Dream's hurt gaze meets yours. "Sorry," he whispers finally. Despite his voice being hardly audible, the weight of his confession is almost deafening.
"There's one more thing, Morpheus."
Those sad blue eyes stare at you in anticipation. The misery on his face makes you think that he's expecting to have his heart broken again, instead of mended.
A couple of grey clouds reappear above your heads. Oh no.
"I'm tired of always being the one to reach out," you confess. His gaze is too intense and you quickly look away from him. There's much on his mind. "No matter who's right or wrong, it's me who bridges the gap between us. Even if that angers me, I still do it. Every time. And I don't know what that says about me."
Your body trembles again but this time it doesn't go unnoticed by Morpheus. He, quite literally, pulls a coat out of thin air. Dream's movements are almost fearful as he cautiously places the garment around your shoulders.
"Perhaps in certain aspects, you are better than me," he answers quietly while fixing the coat to fit you better.
You know you're pushing your luck when you look at him again and ask a not-so-innocent question:
"You mean a 'better person'?"
"I'm not-" He bites his tongue just in time. Morpheus is not a person. Both of you are perfectly aware of it. But it was the mention of this very fact that had brought such disastrous rain to Dreaming. "Yes. A better person."
There's not much conviction in his words but there is, however, a silent promise to find it.
______
Now that I’m in mourning, I thought it fitting to finish reading "Brief Lives" and the bittersweetness of it felt all the more pronounced. Reading it prompted me to rewatch the show and long story short I’m kind of back in my Sandman feels.
#the sandman#the sandman fandom#the sandman dream#the sandman fanfiction#dream of the endless#dream x reader#dream#dream the endless#dream of the endless x reader#dream of the endless imagine#dream of the endless fanfiction#morpheus x reader#morpheus x you#morpheus imagine#morpheus fanfiction#morpheus fanfic#morpheus sandman#morpheus#lord morpheus#morpehus
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Dating Dream of the Endless Would Include...
Thank you all so much for being so sweet about my last two Dream headcanons, here are the dating ones to complete the set (and also the longest ones)!
Also shock horror I know, but I still have about three episodes of the show left so sorry if this is suddenly very out of character lmao I just love him to the moon and back my petty king
This got much longer than I thought it would oops, so any and all comments are much appreciated!! Thank you ily guys I hope you liked my silly similes lmaoooo
(I do not own the Sandman or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @thekingofkawaii.)
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°
Since people seem to love these opening sentences so much and I adore writing them lmao... Dream you pathetic ass cape draping eyeliner scrungle of a wet hissing cat, living for the drama dumbass with the smile of a brick I literally love you in every single way you are impeccable. He’s so stupid bless I want to bonk him with a baguette and give him a big ‘ol hug until he awkwardly shoves me off and mopes away. Well guess what sir, this time you are NOT running away from your feelings you’re happy and in love now biss so guess what you’re getting ALL the fluff ‘cause it’s what y’all deserve.
Dream introduced you to everyone as fellow ruler of his realm pretty much straight after your first kiss (my man intense). As soon as he took you by the hand and led you back to the throne room, his hands settled on your shoulders and turned you to face the erratic shards of the stained glass windows. ‘Everything I have’, you feel him whisper against your ear as soft as mist, ‘everything I am... it is also yours.’ He reaches round to tilt your cheek up, until the back of your head is flush against his chest and he’s able to run his finger down the curve of your neck. ‘If you so wish. I will be yours forever... in both dreams and the waking world. Wherever you need me, or want me. I will be there.’
To be completely honest, too many times he’s been afraid that you’ve still left him, so overwhelmed by everything. All that panic twisting in his gut, only to find you talking over Rose Walker’s dream journal in the library. You’re standing near ear to ear with Lucienne, the two of you bumping fingers and pouring over the contents to understand where exactly her poor brother is, the whole time Mervyn yapping at your side. I mean, they all adore you from the get go: they’ve seen over the last few decades how the mere thought of you has been the only thing stopping Morpheus from spiralling too far into despair. As soon as your feet stepped down onto the whirling sand, you were marked as a pretty integral part of the dreaming, human or not.
Plus, all the ravens that you’ve found encroaching on your roof and landing to hop on your shoulders in the waking world finally make sense. Lucienne was under strict orders to keep an eye on you, to make sure you were safe at all times.
Or you’ll wander off, and Dream will come sauntering away from the palace and down the winding path towards the House of Secrets, knowing from instinct that it’s where he'll find you. That same tide tugs him forwards forward into the suffocating mists, until he emerges in front of a pile of crumbling dirt and sees your smile alight the dusk, as piercing and ruinous as the sun. Goldie is perched upon your shoulder, squawking and sneezing into your eyes from time to time. You just laugh, and the sound is enough to double Dream over in grievous endearment. Abel is sitting by your right, still half-leaning in the pit as he giggles and continues his wild story about the King of Dreams from long ago. You turn around only when you hear a rare chuckle, finally spotting Dream standing with his eyes crossed behind you, and an amused eyebrow raised at you and your friends’ antics.
You expect him to ask you to leave, or to at least lead you inside, but to your surprise he sweeps his coat behind him and takes a seat on the squishing dirt beside you. He doesn’t settle until he feels his knee rest against your own, doesn’t feel comfortable while Abel continues spouting his story, until you take his hand and cradle it in your lap. It’s cold, almost contorted like the first dawn’s mist against your skin, but even now it shakes in your hold. It almost makes you laugh: the mystical, awe-striking, beyond marvel King of Dreams so terrified of loving you that he’s shaking like a barn mouse hiding from the overwhelming world around it. The same man who had spent over one hundred years locked like a Greek statue behind solid glass, only to be finally brought to his knees by the one thing he could never escape: his soul’s serendipity.
Eventually the clouds begin to roll over the stars, as if the sky’s painter had thrown buckets of brown paint over her canvas and left the streaks of ribbed sand to sparkle across the gloominess. Yet the King of Dreams just sits there, still as stone, not even daring to look down at you despite how much fondness tugs him too. Sometime during the night your head has fallen against his shoulder and you’ve fallen asleep against the warmth of his coat. He doesn’t want to move you, until eventually he leans down to kiss your head. He joins you in some of the sweetest dreams he can muster: the two of you lounging out amidst a field of flowers on the eve of spring. The firecracker reds and warm sugar plum violets frame his smiling face and the glimmer in his eyes as he lies admits the reeds, gazing up at you. He begrudgingly allows you to weave daisy petals into his hair, after a while of him running after you through the meadows and picking you up, holding you hostage in his arms until you promise not to tell his family about it.
Speaking of, when you eventually get to meet his sister Death, she loves you just as much (or even more) than her brother does straight away!!! She just immediately wraps you up in a big, excited, squealing, full body hug before tugging you off by the arm and leading you off towards the coastal market. She leaves a very confused and huffy Dream to fend for himself for a while, or perhaps gives him the time to visit his old friend Hob at the New Inn. She leads you to her favourite quaint ice cream parlour, where the two of you spend the afternoon sharing a sundae as siblings do, out on the arching thatch seats. Eventually she squints through the sunlight to look at you a little more seriously. ‘That’s the happiest I’ve ever seen my brother, like... ever I think! Thank you. No, seriously, thank you. He’s had enough time to sulk about, it’s good to see him look himself again.’
You and Dream reconvene in the square and spend the rest of the day feeding his treasured pigeons. He keeps looking at you out of the corner of his eyes with that twitching-lip smirk, with all the stars and constellations in the universe burning in them. He tries to be smooth, stealing a pinch of your baguette and throwing the crumbs at you, just to be able to wipe them off. His slender fingers brush over the pulse point on your neck like butterfly wings flitting over the dawning petals of a blooming rose. Then up to your chin, then gliding upwards till they’re hunched, tracing over the outline of your lips. Your heart fizzes as he leans down to kiss you for the first time ever in public, his frame shadowing you, yet bottom lip so welcoming and caressing as he brushes between your own.
Too often has Lucienne walked into the throne room, only to have to clear her throat to try and get Morpheus’ attention. He has his coat wrapped around the two of you like an inky bat like cocoon, sitting together on his throne as you read through the latest census. He stops every so often out of wild amusement when you gasp and point out a new entity. In pride at how well accustomed you’re becoming to his work that he carefully kisses your forehead and leans his own against it.
When it’s raining he’s the type to look confused at first as to why you’re shivering under your jacket and trying to run under London arches. Eventually it finally clocks in his head and he takes his coat off, holding it over your head during the whole journey to your destination, getting soaked himself by the smacking downpour nonchalantly. It’s a kind of second nature, to protect you, that he doesn’t even bat an eyeliner lined eyelid anymore. It’s innate and as natural, easy to him as dreaming.
Sometimes you’ll find Dream skulking around the palace steps like a disgruntled skunk recently kicked out of a bin, still upset after the events with John Dee. Lucienne and Matthew have attempted every possible solution to talk him out of it, but you’re the only one who can bring him back round. The only presence in any realm that feels more like himself than he does. The only one that understand his every idiosyncrasy, every twitch of his face, until you’re sitting by his side as one entity. He’s too stubborn to ever admit it, but he does indeed like it when you trace your pointer finger down the tip of his nose before tapping twice against his lips as if mockingly chiding him. He always peers down above his bottom lashes with wide, almost crossed eyes as he tries to follow you, but it does ground him again. Eventually, without anything even being said, he groans and jumps up to a stand with a ‘thank you, you’re right... of course... my dream’, and then saunters off again as if he owns the catwalk.
He tries to take you out to visit other dreams, even though you’re still terrified of the waters. He slides his fingers between your own, pulling them up to rest above his heart on the docks. He carefully and calmly talks you through everything that’s about to happen, and how he will be in control of every whiff and whim that could occur. He’s still a dramatic ass though, so before he’s even finished counting down to one he’s pulled you off the decking and into the swirling depths. In the darkness, you grasp onto him like a lifeline as he pulls you further down into the macrocosm than you ever thought possible.
It is worth it though... perhaps after a lot of snuggling and apologies from Dream. You end up in the dreams of young Irish man: one who hopes to become a zoologist after his time at university. You get to enjoy a peaceful night in a canopy beneath the stars, lying side by side with Dream as he points out the constellations that swirl gold like koi fish in the grand pond of the sky. He’s still not quite used to physical touch, which is why he seems to start and flinch back when you wind your arm to rest and rub above his abdomen. He’s spent so long... so so long never really getting much attention, or care from his family, so you’ll have to coax him into realising he can trust and relax in your presence. He does eventually let his guard down after a few hours of cuddles, until he eventually slides to sit up and falls dramatically over your knees. It’s the first time he’s ever allowed you to play with his hair, lying there in the darkness as normal lovers set alight do.
I mean, you’re family, right??? Dream begs you to come along to the family get together dinner (mainly so he can have a sparring partner of equal wit and finally get one up on his sibling Desire). He swaps the placards said sibling placed around the fire-lit table so you’re sitting next to him instead of Delirium. Between meals Dream takes your hand under the table and places it on his knee, stroking his thumb over your palm to try and calm himself down. Desire catches wind (thanks to an eagle eyed Despair), and makes some bitter laced remark with a growl of their lips, flick of their hand and sip of their red wine. This ends up with you lunging for him over the candelabra, with Death barely holding you back and Dream leaning back in his seat with a grin so wide on his face he looks like a smug, satisfied cat lmao
#the sandman#the sandman imagine#sandman#dream of the endless#morpheus#dream#morpheus imagine#dream of the endless imagine#dream imagine#sandman imagine#neil gaiman#tom sturridge#the sandman x reader#sandman x reader#morpheus x reader#dream of the endless x reader#dream x reader#the sandman headcanons#sandman headcanons#morpheus headcanons#dream of the endless headcanons#dream headcanons#desire of the endless#death of the endless#despair of the endless#delirium of the endless#lucienne#matthew#mervyn pumpkinhead#rose walker
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Y/n: I can fit the whole world in my hands
Dream: That's impossible
Y/n: *moves closer to him, and cups his face slowly and gently*
Dream: *eyes widens slightly, blushes*
Lucienne: My Lord- *stops herself witnessing the scene* I'll come back later *walks away with a knowing, small smile*
Dream: I-I..*clears throat* Get off me, I have a reputation
#ya'll know this common prompt#the sandman incorrect quotes#the sandman imagine#dream of the endless#morpheus#morpheus x reader#morpheus imagine#the sandman
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saving grace
summary: morpheus is captured by roderick burgess, but is swiftly rescued by his wife
A/n: yeah ik, ik, i should be working on love game but hehe this was way too irresistible. basically a Love game au where morpheus treated you right and you save morpheus from his imprisonment at the height if burgess’ power. Think of this as what could have been is morpheus was a better husband from the beginning. gif not mine !!
Jessamy was your final warning that Roderick Burgess is not your normal opponent. He was such a ridiculously luck-favored individual that despite failing to capture Death, he had imprisoned the next best thing. He stole his tools, bringing him prosperity. The magician Burgess became renowned in the waking world, a man of miracles, blessed by the gods who created magic themselves, and- some say, has a demon locked in his basement.
You had tried to enter it once, thinking that you could just pop by and drag Dream from his cage, but someone had tipped Burgess to write runes around every entrance and exit in his house that weaken you and can ban you from entering, unless someone wanted you in. You have a strong hunch that they were the same person to warn the magician not to break the summoning circle, and enclose Dream inside a glass sphere.
You were with Jessamy, helping her dodge every bullet Burgess had tried to aim. It is through Jessamy that you finally get your first glance of the mansion’s inner lodgings, preening forward as Jessamy lights up a fire and hides in the corners of the mansion until, finally, you are greeted with the first sight of Dream in a year.
His unruly hair was the first thing you saw, before he slowly lifted his head up in hope. Morpheus is stripped bare, without his helm, ruby and pouch of sand. Without any robes. He looks at Jessamy with adoration. Wherever Dream the Endless goes, there will always be his loyal raven not too far behind. But there was a quick lift of his lips as he spots his bird- a private smile. That one is for you.
Though you were far, far away from Earth, you could hear the small clink Jessamy’s beak made as she frantically pecked on the glass orb that holds your husband. You watch in devastation how the hope in Morhpeus’ eyes faded away, replaced by a look of utter resignment. Still, he lifts his hand to touch his glass cage to his precious bird.
While in her head, you could feel Jessamy’s emotions, how she was as desperate as you to set her lord go, her utter relief at how she finally entered the house after months of trying, and her overwhelming fear that something was going to go wrong. You feel how Jessamy pushes and fails to push this lingering fear of death that she senses in the air, trying her best to focus on the glass, to keep pecking, and pecking until-
Until nothing.
You open your eyes with a start and mouth agape, grasping your sheets in freight as you feel a phantom pain at your back. You try to remember where you are as you get up from bed. You feet touches a lush red rug that stretches a little more after the bed ends, a floor with pristine marble walls that shimmer as you walk, and a mirror on your right that if you go through would take you to your own realm.
Home. This is where you are, home in the Dreaming, home to the private chamber you share with your husband, Dream. Dream, who is not here. Dream, who is in the waking world, held prisoner by some amateur magician who got lucky.
You know what you must do. You exit your room and walk towards his throne room in a hurry, up the stairs to his seat of power uninterrupted until you sense a quiet presence with you.
Lucienne is at the foot of the steps, looking at you in both sadness and fear as she spots your bow and quiver with your person, your trusted weapons that will aid you in whatever comes next.
“My lady,” she starts, and her warm dark gaze falls on you as you stare at her eyes back. Somehow there is an entire conversation that was said in silence as you look at each other's gaze. You can hear her warnings, her hesitations on your leave, her worry on the slowly deteriorating state of the Dreaming. You can hear her attempts to persuade to stay, that perhaps Morpheus would free himself soon. In your ears, you can also hear your replies, your attempts to soothe her worry, your promises to come back. It is not lost to you that you may be repeating the exact same thing your husband said.
“Safe travels.” She says instead and you know you have gotten her blessing.
You slip into the waking world without a moment’s thought.
-
There are three facts you recite to yourself as you approach the Burgess Manor in all its splendor. First, there is a party tonight. The Burgess monarch seems to love these parties, having one at every month, each growing more extravagant than the last. There is a growing crowd of eager party goers hoping to catch a glimpse and the favor of the Burgess monarch. Two, thanks to the runes carved above every entrance of the house, you must be invited inside.
You walk towards the crowd in confidence, putting on a show to anyone who is looking. You glance to your right as you see yourself in the reflection of a car window- utterly gorgeous. Lips as red as the blood you will cry tonight, eyes as dark as sunless sky and your smile as deadly as your fury. Three, you are the most beautiful girl in the party.
Not that it matters, you think to yourself as you walk through the crowd who parts as you strut. They will all see who they want to see.
You catch a boy guarding the front door as he lets other guests in. You follow the line of people, before catching the arm of an unsuspecting man, halting him from entering the door.
“Wha- oh. Oh, hello, may I help you?” His initial anger has immediately faded as he saw you, replaced by an infatuated grin. You squint your eyes when you realize he is not a reminder of his lady wife when he looks at you, but rather a girl from a whore house a couple of blocks from his home.
“I can’t help but to notice you were unaccompanied on this lovely night,” you start, tugging his arm closer until you are hugging it. “I was wondering if I can keep you company tonight…?”
The nameless man smiles easily. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
You giggle in delight and the man leads you towards the door. As you passed by the carved runes of the door, you felt a wave of fatigue run over that almost made you stumble. The man you are thankfully does not notice, as his head was still in the clouds of scoring a woman so beautiful.
But despite his luck, the man quickly announces his leave as soon as he sees Roderick Burgess on a chair. He is more eager to save his dying company than to have the presence of Love themselves, it seems. You do not mind and laugh comfortingly as he mournfully apologizes as he takes his leave, giving you not one, but four longing glances as he approached his target. You do not mind. The nameless man had let you inside and led you to Roderick Burgess in less than five minutes. You would have considered blessing him if only he was faithful to his marriage.
You slink behind people, accepting a glass of champagne to blend in but never leaving your sights off the man who had imprisoned Dream. He is constantly surrounded by different people, some part of his household, but most were his fellow amateur magicians and cultists, eager to get his acquaintance. You wait until he is finally alone. He stands to walk, and you follow.
“All that talking must be tiring.” You have heard that he has a lover already, a young blonde girl that is often seen hanging on his arms in these types of events. But the fact that you had not seen her yet tonight makes you optimistic. That and how you wear his old wife’s face, the one that face that Randall inherited- its why he loved him the best, you know you have won. “Isn’t it tiring?”
It takes a second for him to reply, too taken aback by a dead face. “It is but a necessary evil of the powerful,” he says, offering you his arm. You happily accept and cling to it. “Do you drink, fair lady?”
“I do, but I am not as fond of wine, sir.” You reply. You place your hand on his chest as a spur of red magic ignites out of your palms. You feel his heart and squeeze. “I’m afraid you must drink twice as much for the both of us tonight.”
Love me, love me, love me, your magic inside him chants.
Roderick Burgess smiles and laughs like a happy man, and you knew you spoke like his dead wife came to life. Despite his sins against Morpheus, you find comfort to at least provide him this brief fantasy. A human’s grief has always hit you a hard, and you would have felt bad for exploiting his mourning if he did not have you husband locked under his house. You know what you must do.
You patiently wait with a smile getting harder to hide as the hours pass by. You watch as Roderick Burgess receives drink after drink, never declining a glass of wine that was offered. You wait until he is stumbling in his walk, until he needs you by his side to keep himself from falling.
The party was long over when he was finished. All guests had retreated home, or had passed out in the living room. Roderick Burgess clings on your shoulder as he thinks you are leading him to his bedroom. He is too drunk to notice that you have not climbed the stairs, but rather down to the hallway, towards the door to his basement.
You halted at the door that Jessamy had previously entered. “What is behind this door, sir? Surely not another one of your living rooms?”
Roderick took a glance at the door and laughed. “A great failure,” he replies. “But a blessing in disguise nonethelessh.”
His voice slurs and you smile. “Impossible. Failure does not know Roderick Burgess,” you say and he laughs even harder. “After all, they whisper of the demon you keep in your basement.”
He shrugs himself off your grip as he stumbles towards the door. “Failure? I know it well, girl. My son, gone. My wife-“ he mournfully looks at you before quickly looking away out of grief or lust, you do not know. “-is dead. You think I do not know what you are doing? You’re just like the rest of them! So hungry for power, so hungry for what I can give.”
You seethe. He cannot give anything. Every single blessing that was brought forth to his life was because of your husband's stolen tools.
“You are jushh like the rest of ‘em,” he declares, his words getting louder and sloppier. “But tonight, I shall show you, thanks to the wonderful company you’ve given me tonight.”
You did not give him good company. Roderick had fun by himself drink after drink. You had merely waited.
He swings the basement doors open and enters and you follow quietly behind him like a silent shadow. There is a stone hallway that you go through before finally, you see your husband’s sphere cage. At the sound of your voice, Morpheus lets out a small grin. His eyes were curious, head tilting in confusion on what you were doing down here. You make it a point not to look at him.
“He is not a demon,” Roderick starts, walking to Dream. He stops before the summoning circle. “He is Endless. More than a God, but less than Death.” Roderick turns to you and beckons you with his hand. You accept his hand gracefully, and Roderick leads you beside him. At the corner of your eye, you see Morpheus look at your conjoined palms. “I had tried to summon Death for my Randall. I got him instead,” he spits angrily.
“Then what does he do?” You ask, eyeing at the summoning circle. You see Dream’s prison, but you do not know how to break it yet. You must be smart. “And this?” You ask, your foot gesturing to the runes written on the floor.
You were tugged back harshly before your foot could even touch the circle. “Break that circle and he will kill you.” Roderick hissed in an angry breath. Morpheus’ eyes darken at Roderick’s grating action, but dared not to move.
“He does not bargain,” Roderick starts, looking back at Morpheus and you take it as your cue to move back slowly. You feel your bow appear in your hands, strong and steady just like how you must be. There is already an arrow ready on it waiting for you. “nor does he show any sort of emotions.”
You nock the arrow, keeping your eyes on the man. Before you, Morpheus eyes your weapon but keeps a passive face giving nothing away from your scheme.
“He cannot do anything at all.” Roderick raises a hand and gestures for you without turning. “Come, love. Say hi. Don’t be afraid, he cannot even speak.”
You look at Morpheus in the eye and raise your bow to Roderick’s head. “Hello, Dream.”
Morpheus looks at you now with all the fondness in his eyes and the softest smile on his lips- the rare kind of look reserved for a selected few that you receive in bulk. “Hello, wife.”
You could see Roderick’s confused frown reflected on the glass sphere before turning his head to you. As if in slow motion, you watch his eyes darken in fury and embarrassment as he realizes he has been tricked. He opens his mouth, but your arrow hits his head first. You watch as your arrow disappears as soon as it hits its mark, and you wait for Roderick Burgess to hit the floor before you scramble to the floor and erase as much of the summoning circle as you can. You frantically scrub every written symbol you can reach until there is a wide gap.
“My Love,” Morpheus calls, halting your action. You turn to him, relishing to see him through your eyes. You raise your hand against the sphere and Dream does the same. So close and yet so far.
“I am sorry about Jessamy,” you whisper, guilt lacing every word. Your husband closes his eyes in pain, as if reliving the exact memory of his trusted bird dying in front of him. “What must I do?” You look around quickly. “Morpheus, we don’t have much time and I- I am weakened here. There are runes, and if you want to get out you must do it now.”
“I cannot break this cage from the inside, my Love.” Dream says with the same resigned look on his face. “Leave me, if you must-“
“No!” You shriek. “No, please, Morpheus-“ You look around again, searching for the room for anything that might help. There were two desks before the sphere, probably for the guards stationed around Dream, but you do not see any firearms. There is nothing strong enough to break his cage, until the thought finally dawns upon you.
“I must cry,” you realize.
You drop to the floor as soon as you say the words, squeezing your eyes shut as the familiar pain of your blood tears start streaming from your face. You have felt fire burn before, but nothing will ever compare to the poisonous magic your tears bring. Your head feels like it's frozen and on fire at the same time, but your eyes carry the most damage your tears bring, making them feel like a hot white pain. It is a burn, poison and freezing at the same time.
Despite your weakened state, you managed to clutch a single arrow out. You grip on it like it's your lifeline before putting it’s tip under your eye to catch your blood tears.
“Love, why must you weep for me?” Morpheus asks, kneeling down in his cage, trying his best to be as close as he could.
You try to laugh. “I have been deprived of my husband for almost a decade, my lord,” you reply weakly, still bowing at your burning eyes. As soon as you know the arrow is coated fully with your blood tears, you halt crying and weakly nock the arrow immediately. “He was taken from me.”
Morpheus, familiar to the power your blood tears hold, had backed away as far as he could in his glass cage. You waste no moment aiming your arrow towards the glass and shoot. The glass explodes with a loud boom that echoes across the room, shaking the basement and the house above you. Distantly, you hear screams above and you wonder if you had accidentally caused an earthquake. Your arrow makes you fly across the room, hitting the stone wall that you were behind before.
But all thoughts leave your head when a familiar touch holds your face gently. Morpheus is finally in front of you, his hands feeling so warm despite not being human. He looks at you with stars in his eyes and a smile of adoration on his mouth.
“But crying pains you.”
You feel his thumb wipe your blood tears away, staining your cheeks even redder. “I would cry rivers of blood if it means having you back.”
You smile in his hands, eyes bloodshot and cheeks stained red. Morpheus has never seen you so beautiful. Slowly, he leans forward and gives you a kiss on your head before cradling your head again to look at you.
Your husband is not one to say his words aloud, but you heard thank you, I’m sorry, and I love you through his kiss all the same.
“Let us go home,” you say, grasping his hand and kissing his palm.
“As long as Dream of the Endless is with Love, his wife,” Morpheus starts. “He is already home.”
if you like this fic, check out my masterlist!
#morpheus x reader#the sandman x reader#dream the endless x reader#dream x reader#sandman x reader#dream of the endless#the sandman#morpheus imagine#dream of the endless imagine
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Give Me Everything You've Got
Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x GN!Reader
Summary: After a fight, you learn that Morpheus does not have the best coping skills. Like, at all.
Word Count: 4.7k
Author's note: This is based off of a scene in Brief Lives where Morpheus dramatically stands on his balcony in the rain. Not going to say more, or else that will spoil the comics completely.
No relationship is perfect; it’s a fact as immutable as which direction the sun rises from. The first fight, though, is always a stark reminder of this. That the person you care so deeply for and have shared so much with over the past days, weeks, months isn’t perfect and has faults. The first fight, though nobody wants it to happen, will, inevitably, happen.
And your first fight with Morpheus is a bad one.
It had been three months since you and Morpheus had shared a heated first kiss in a crowded bar, three months since the man of your dreams turned out to be both real and still the man of your dreams. Those three months had been bliss, to put it simply. You looked forward to falling asleep every night, for that meant you could spend uninterrupted time with your love in his realm. He’s insanely busy, of course, being the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares. Even just being in his presence, sitting on the Shores of Creation and watching as he creates new dreams and nightmares or reading in the library in your own chair and listening to him and Lucienne discuss matters related to the realm, was a gift that you don’t think you’ll ever take for granted.
But then, of course, the other shoe had to drop. The beautiful bubble of a honeymoon phase that you were living in was bound to pop, suddenly and harshly. Foolishly, you had hoped that things between you and Morpheus would always be like this, with both of you on the same page. That, of course, was nothing more than a mere pipe dream, because two people (or, one person and one eldritch being) will never be completely on the same page for every single thing.
The first time you had seen the raven, perched on the overhang of the cafe you were currently waiting for your friends outside of, you had thought nothing more than “oh, it looks like Matthew,” before going back on your merry way. After all, ravens are pretty common birds, and Matthew seemed like a pretty important raven. Surely it wasn’t him; surely he had better things to do than to trail you. It was simply just a coincidence.
Over the next week, however, you kept seeing a raven everywhere you went. When you left the store carrying bags of groceries, one was circling overhead. When you took your lunch break outside on a particularly nice afternoon, there it was, staring at you from another picnic table. When you were finally getting around to loading the dishwasher, it was sitting on your windowsill.
It was like that mental exercise when someone tells you not to think about a yellow car and then you see yellow cars everywhere. Only, you were certain that this was the same raven, and that this raven was Matthew, due to the fact that this raven tried a little too hard to act like a normal raven. As long as you weren’t directly looking at the raven, then it would just stare at you in a way that gave you the creeps. The moment that you turned to look, then it would suddenly start pecking at the ground or preening itself. Convenient. Too convenient, in your opinion.
Finally, you decide that you’re going to confront him. You go out onto your porch to water the little garden that you’re trying to cultivate, and there he is, sitting on the railing and staring right at you. As you go about your watering, he continues to just stare. Once you’ve finished, you whip your head up, fast enough that he doesn’t have time to pretend like he wasn’t watching you.
“Matthew, I know it’s you,” you say to save him the embarrassment of having to keep up the act.
Though the raven tries not to look at you, eventually he knows that the jig is up. He hops closer to you and still doesn’t look at you, but now due to the guilt he’s obviously feeling. “Uh, hi.”
“Hi. You've been following me around.” It’s not a question, because you know that he’s been doing exactly that.
Matthew looks about as sheepish as a raven can possibly look. “You caught me.”
“Are you gonna tell me why you’re stalking me?”
“Do I have to?” You glare at him to tell him that yes, he very much has to. Realizing that he has no choice, he acquiesces. “Orders from the boss man, y’know? It’s kinda what I do.”
You can feel your blood beginning to run hot in your veins from the sudden surge of anger, and you have to breathe to keep yourself from yelling. “Morpheus is making you spy on me?”
“I wouldn’t call it spying.” Matthew can sense the beginnings of a storm brewing, and quickly goes to work at trying to mitigate the impending disaster. “Just…making sure that you’re safe, that’s all! He really cares about you, and it’s tough for him to not be able to be with you whenever he wants.”
“Okay, well, you need to stop following me.”
“I—I don’t know if I can. I’m really not supposed to disobey direct orders. I already got in enough trouble for the whole business with Hell!”
Though you’re mad about the whole situation and, by extension, Matthew himself, you don’t want your feathered friend to get in trouble when he’s not the one that’s at fault. If he’s going to get in trouble for abandoning his post, then you’ll just give him a task instead that happens to take him back to the Dreaming. After all, Morpheus had told you that you could use Matthew to reach him if the need arose.
“Fine, then,” you say. “Will you go back to the Dreaming and tell Morpheus to meet me when he gets the chance? I’d really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, I can do that!”
Matthew prepares to take off, but before he does, you stop him. “And, Matthew?”
“Mm?”
“Don’t come back.”
By the time the first month of dating had passed, you had both already exchanged declarations of love. It felt entirely natural, and you were both thrilled at the next step. Now, the true next step, that of disagreeing with your partner on a fundamental level, is here. You’re far less thrilled about this step.
When Morpheus appears in your living room, you’re already prepared to say what you’ve been practicing in your head since Matthew left. Morpheus has a way of making you forget words, and you’re not about to let that happen this time. Instead of giving him the chance, you jump to your feet and glare at him.
“What the fuck!” you spit. “How dare you!”
Morpheus simply watches you, as cool and collected as always, which only serves to piss you off even more.
“Matthew told me that you are…upset,” he says, “about my having him watch over you.”
You look at him in disbelief. “‘Upset’? I’m furious right now.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re stalking me, without my permission, through your raven!”
“It is not stalking,” he retorts.
“Really? What would you call it, then?”
Rather than answer what it is (because it is stalking), Morpheus defers to his reasoning behind his actions. “I just want to make sure that you are safe when I cannot be with you.”
In his mind, this likely makes complete sense. Of course he wants you safe, and naturally that means sending his raven to watch you at all hours of the day. Perhaps, in his eyes, this was even seen as a romantic gesture. Who this would charm, though, you’re not sure.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Morpheus. I’m an adult.”
“Yes, I am aware of that. Regardless of the immature way that you are currently acting in.”
Oh, you could hit him right now. You have to dig your nails into the palm of your hand to keep the urge at bay. “Then why did you think that you could invade my privacy in such a major way?”
“Because you are human, beloved. If something were to happen to you, if one of my enemies were to take advantage of my absence, I would never forgive myself. I cannot allow that to happen, hence, Matthew watching out for you.”
“I’m more than able to take care of myself. Especially in my own home,” you stress.
“It is for my own peace of mind.”
“Then you have him drop in every once in a while to say hi! You don’t have him playing James Bond and spying on me every minute of every day!”
It’s obvious that Morpheus doesn’t understand your anger towards him right now, and that’s probably the most frustrating thing about this whole mess. You have to close your eyes and gather your thoughts, lest you lose your cool and say something that you really regret.
When you feel just a smidge calmer, you look at Morpheus again. “I can’t deal with this right now. We physically can’t have this conversation until you can actually see why I’m so mad about this.”
His face grows stormy, and his eyes go straight from blue to black, starless pools. “You want me to leave?”
“Have you figured out why I’m mad?” He remains still, challenging you. “Then yes.”
This is just a way to call his bluff. He’s not going to leave, not in the middle of an argument. You just want him to think for a moment about his actions and their effect on you, and then you can talk like civilized adults about a little something called boundaries before making up.
His jaw clenches, as do his fists, and you realize that you may have overestimated his rationality. “Then I suppose I shall take my leave of you.”
“Wait, what?” You take a step towards him and go to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. “Morpheus!”
He’s gone before you can even feel his coat under your hand, and you’re left staring in shock at the empty space where Morpheus just stood.
You’re distraught about just how wrong your argument with Morpheus went, enough so that you don’t visit the Dreaming that night. It's not on purpose, though. Rather, you’re so upset about the whole situation that you barely sleep, and the sleep that you do get is fitful.
You’re exhausted when your alarm goes off the next morning, and find that all of the anger of last night has dissipated. Now, you’re just sad. Sad that Morpheus couldn’t understand why you were upset, sad that he didn’t stay to finish the conversation, sad that you couldn’t go after him to try and make things right between you.
You slog through your day, so noticeably sad that multiple people ask you what’s wrong. Though saying that you had a fight with your boyfriend doesn’t really begin to encapsulate everything that Morpheus is, it’s a common enough occurrence in the world that those who you share this with immediately nod in understanding and leave you to your misery.
Sleep tries to elude you for a second night, but you refuse to go any longer without seeing Morpheus. Instead, you scrounge around in your medicine cabinet for the bottle of melatonin that you know is back there. When you find it, you down as many of the artificial berry-tasting tablets that’s safe before crawling into bed and hoping that it works.
When you do finally fall asleep and open your eyes in the Dreaming, you’re immediately thrown off by the rain. No, calling it a simple rainstorm would be underselling it. A veritable hurricane has descended on the Dreaming, and you have to brace yourself against the wind somehow blowing through the palace to keep from being blown away. Rain lashes against the windows, which are rattling heavily, in rough sheets, and lightning crackles through the sky.
Growing up around storms has you instinctually looking for a basement or cellar to get to before you remember that nothing can actually harm you in your dreams. The thought doesn’t do much to settle your nerves (you’ve never been too fond of storms), but you keep repeating to yourself that it can’t harm you in some sort of frightened mantra as you make your way to the library.
The library, unfortunately, is in worse shape than the entryway, and you immediately feel a pang of sympathy for Lucienne. All of the bookshelves have been raised on individual islands via dream-magic in an attempt to save the books from the flooding that’s beginning to encroach from the doors and windows. Even so, sandbags are being piled up at the base of each island by a variety of dreams as a failsafe.
Knowing Lucienne, she probably has a backup failsafe for the failsafe.
Dressed in a rainbow parka with the hood up over his little raven head, Matthew stands atop one of the bookshelves and directs the dreams who have been tasked with helping to protect one of the Dreaming’s most precious assets. When he notices you standing awkwardly just inside the main doors, he lets out a squawk and flies to the bookshelf closest to you.
“Oh thank God you’re here,” Matthew exclaims. “This place is gonna get washed away if he keeps up at it!”
“What’s going on?” you ask, both of you flinching at a particularly loud clap of thunder.
Lucienne appears from around a corner, stomping through puddles as she steadily marches towards you in a way that makes you worry that you’re in trouble with her. She’s wearing bright yellow rain gear, and water streams off of the plastic hat in steady rivulets.
“Has Lord Morpheus explained to you that the Dreaming’s weather is tied to his emotions?” Lucienne demands to know.
Morpheus had briefly mentioned this to you once. It was a month or so into your relationship, and you remarked on how beautiful the weather always was in his realm. In the midst of a brutal winter, the reprieve was especially appreciated.
“I am glad that you think so. After all, I am the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is me.” Morpheus replied from behind you.
You were standing on the highest balcony in the palace so that you could properly take in all of the Dreaming, and Morpheus had his arms wrapped snugly around your middle so that he could pull you into his firm chest.
“So you control the weather?” you asked.
“Yes, but I do not do so consciously. It is…like how your own heart continually beats without you needing to think about it.”
At the time, you were satisfied with the explanation. Now, you’re wondering what the hell kind of autonomic nervous system Morpheus has.
“He did,” you say. “But why is the weather so bad?”
She stares at you like you’re an idiot, and you shift uncomfortably under her pointed glare. “Because you had a fight.”
You’re going to ask how she knows such a thing, but you assume it was pretty obvious to Matthew what was going to happen when you told him to have Morpheus visit you.
“It was an argument, not a fight.” Great, now you sound like your parents when you were a kid and would catch them fighting. “Is he that upset about what happened?”
You know that Morpheus is able to hold a grudge better than most. Even though you haven’t seen him, and the storm is fierce, you can tell that this isn’t caused by some petty anger; this is genuine distress, and you’re starting to think that he’s never had to deal with his emotions in a healthy way.
Lucienne nods and says, “You have only ever seen our Lord Morpheus at his best. He—well, I will not divulge that which is not mine to share, but there is a precedent behind what has led him to react in such a way.”
Good lord, what had happened in Morpheus’s past for this to be a normal reaction for him? While you’re also still a little upset over the ‘disagreement’, your hurt comes more from the fact that he left and that you were unable to finish what you had started. Furthermore, if this is normal for him, you hate to see what an abnormal reaction from him is.
Something needs to be done, and you’re going to have to be the one to do it.
“Alright, then. Do you have any idea where he is?” you ask.
Lucienne doesn’t even need to think. “In his chambers, most likely.”
You don’t believe you’ve ever had to find your way to Morpheus’s chambers without him. The hesitation must show on your face, because Matthew flies down from the bookshelf to perch on the back of a chair.
“Just think about him while you’re walking, and the Dreaming should do the rest,” he advises.
“I’m on it.” You give your friends a mock-salute before turning and heading out the door that you came through, mind focused on Morpheus the entire time.
The way that the Dreaming works is interesting. Sometimes, you need to walk a good distance to get from one place to the next. This is often true of when you trek down the Shores to visit Morpheus, or when he takes you to Fiddler’s Green. Other times, you need only blink and take a step before reaching your destination.
This is one of those times, thankfully, because the anxiety coursing through you as you worry about Morpheus and if he’s okay is making every step that you take a shaky one. You’re standing outside of the library one second, and the next, you’re staring at the large, carved wood doors that conceal Morpheus’s chambers from you.
Will the doors be bolted, like how you would lock your own when you were an angsty teenager and wanted the world to know that absolutely nobody was privy to your misery? Will he be mad when he sees you? Mad that you sought him out, that you consulted his own subjects about how best to approach this crisis?
Though you don’t mean to lean against the door as you lose yourself in your thoughts, you do, and it swings open easily. You hope that this is Morpheus’s way of letting you know that you’re welcome here, with him.
He’s not in the large sitting room that first greets you when you enter his chambers, nor is he in the bedroom that he does not sleep in. That means that there’s only one other place that he could be, so you backtrack into the sitting room and go the opposite direction from his bedroom and towards the balcony that you stood on, with him, what feels like so long ago.
There he is, leaning steadfastly against the balcony railing like some sort of Byronic hero as the rain lashes against him and the thunder and lightning create a show for the ages above him. No matter how harshly the wind blows, he refuses to move, instead taking the full brunt of the storm as he stares out into it.
It’s his own version of self-harm, you realize, and you won’t allow him this vice any longer.
You walk out onto the balcony to stand next to Morpheus and try not to get blown away by the gale force winds. Immediately, you’re assaulted by the rain, and it quickly begins to soak through your clothes; you end up turning your back on the brunt of it and directly facing Morpheus so that you can actually see him.
“I suppose Lucienne sent you my way?” In an entirely un-Morpheus move, Morpheus scoffs.
“She told me where to find you, but only because I asked.” You have to raise your voice just to be heard over the storm. “So? Why are you standing out here?”
He laughs dryly. “As if you do not know? Before today, I did not know you to be so needlessly, brutally cruel.”
Is he on drugs? You’d check his pupils, but in the Dreaming, he doesn’t have any. “What are you talking about?”
“You no longer love me!” His voice booms around you as loud as the thunder.
This is news to you, and you’re about to tell him so, but he continues before you can.
“I have transgressed against you, terribly so, and you rightfully sent me away as a result. Now, you have come to tell me that you wish never to see me again.”
To say that you’re completely thrown for a loop would be a gross understatement. “No! What gave you that idea?”
All of the fight, all of the righteous indignity, suddenly deflates out of him, and he looks at you with a defeated look reminiscent of that of a guilty puppy. “Prior experience, I suppose.”
“Oh, Morpheus.”
This is one of the saddest things that you’ve ever heard. His prior relationships involved his lovers spurning him after one little fight? Since he obviously doesn’t know how wrong this is, your heart hurts on his behalf as you reach a hand up to cup his cheek.
“I’m not going to break up with you, and I’m sorry that you’ve been in relationships where that was something that happened.”
The relief on his face is immediate. “You still love me?”
“Yes, you silly, silly anthropomorphic personification. I still love you.”
“You still love me,” he says again in disbelief.
“It was a little fight. Just because fights happen sometimes, doesn’t mean that it’s the end of our relationship.”
“I am…sorry, for invading your privacy in such a way, and further for not understanding why you were upset with me.” It’s obvious that he’s not used to apologizing for anything, but he’s trying, and that’s what matters.
“You understand why I feel the way that I do about that?” You try not to get your hopes up, but utterly fail at it.
He nods. “You feel as though I’m attempting to exert control over you, that I don’t trust you.”
He does get it! You could cheer right now. “Exactly.”
“I do,” he says earnestly, “trust you. To make you feel otherwise was never my intention. You are just so precious to me that if something were to happen to you and I was not there to help you or come to your aid, it would kill me. That fear led me to become possessive, in a way that is healthy for neither of us. For that, I sincerely apologize.”
“Thank you, Morpheus. And I’m sorry for not properly conveying my feelings before I told you to leave.” You shrug. “You’ll have to forgive me for not really understanding; this is my first supernatural relationship.”
“Your last, too, if I have it my way.”
You smile at him and push the wet strands of hair out of your eyes, which seems to alert him to the fact that it’s still storming at a cool “wrath of God” level. He immediately lifts his hand to stop the rain from coming down around you, and an invisible umbrella forms over your heads. It’s obvious that he’s not done there, and he tries to school his face into an expression cooler and more passive than that which he’s currently sporting.
“If you will give me a moment to rein in my emotions…”
“No,” you cut Morpheus off. “Don’t. I like the rain.”
Maybe not this much rain, but you won’t tell him that right now. Because right now, you can already see him trying to slip back into the role of Dream of the Endless, who takes care of everyone and everything and lets nothing affect him. He can pretend that’s the real him all that he wants, but you’re seeing firsthand how detrimental it is to Morpheus. Not Dream, but Morpheus.
And Morpheus deserves to feel emotions, regardless of if it upsets or inconveniences the citizens of the Dreaming. Morpheus deserves to have somebody take care of him for once, instead of taking care of everyone and everything around him. Morpheus deserves a hell of a lot more than he’s previously gotten, and you’re going to be the one to give it to him.
“You do?” he asks.
“Yeah, I do. And if people don’t…then, fuck ‘em!”
His lips twitch. “I’d rather not.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” He thinks that joke is so funny every time he uses it, and you’re determined to not let him know that it is kind of funny.
The wind begins to slow down, and the thunder starts to grow fainter. Still, the rain continues, but it’s more tolerable now that it’s falling straight down instead of directly pelting you.
“C’mon.” You grab his hand and start to lead him back inside. “Let’s go lay down for a bit.”
Morpheus immediately begins to protest. “But–”
“Shh. Tomorrow, you can ensure that everything’s back to business as usual. Today, though, I think you’ve earned the right to feel a little sad and upset.”
Though Morpheus doesn’t seem too happy about you telling him what to do, by the time you’re sitting him down on his bed, you’re both completely dry. He watches silently as you take his starry coat off for him, followed by his heavy boots. You take your own shoes off before climbing onto the bed and settling against the pillows. When you hold your arms out to him, he simply raises an eyebrow to challenge you. In response, you wiggle your fingers and try to beckon him over to you.
He begrudgingly allows you to hold him, and kiss the top of his head and try to stifle a laugh in his soft hair. Morpheus’s body begins to relax against yours, and you smile triumphantly as you run a hand up and down his spine. After a few minutes of sitting in silence and listening to the rain against the windows (now less brutal than it was when you first arrived in the Dreaming), you realize that Morpheus is matching his breaths–that he doesn’t need–to yours. Your insides go all warm and fuzzy as a result.
When Morpheus finally feels ready to talk, he picks his head up from your chest to look at you. You smile at the sight of the stars having finally returned to his beautiful eyes, and he asks, “Is this truly how humans cope with their emotions?”
“Mhm. Cry and feel sad a bit, then pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going.” He hums when you begin to gently card your fingers through your hair, and you file this away as a form of care that you’re definitely going to use for him in the future. “If you’re lucky, you’ve got somebody right there with you to take care of you and help you weather that storm.”
“Sage advice.”
It really is. You just won’t tell him that it’s advice from a children’s show.
Morpheus nods and chooses to relax in your embrace for longer than you would have thought. Honestly, you were expecting more of a fight from him as he tried to plead his case to return to being Dream. Eventually, he does say what’s truly on his mind; he’s been getting better at that, the whole communication thing.
“I am not. Used to being taken care of.” Stating the obvious here, but what matters is that he said it.
“I know,” you say. “Which is why, in addition to the normal care that one gives their romantic partner that you’ll be receiving from me, I’m going to make up for all of what you should have been receiving for so long now.”
“Are you?” Morpheus smirks, amused at your determination.
“Yep. Why don’t we take a nap? That’s always helpful.”
Morpheus doesn’t sleep, per se; rather, he drifts, following you through your various dreamscapes and allowing himself to just be. As he’s described it to you, it’s rather relaxing to him, the same as napping is relaxing to you.
“That sounds…” Morpheus thinks for a moment. “Nice.”
“Good. Then after that, perhaps a warm bath?”
“You are just doing all of the things that make you feel better.” Though he says this, you can tell that he finds the concept intriguing.
You smile. “We’re starting from scratch with you, my love. Everything’s on the table at this point.”
“Very well. Nap first, then bath.”
With you by his side, Morpheus quickly learns how useful the human lesson of “cry and feel sad a bit, then pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going” actually is.
#dream of the endless x reader#dream of the endless imagine#dream of the endless#morpheus x reader#morpheus imagine#morpheus#the sandman#the sandman imagine
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helluuu<3 i'm in for the celebration, let's gooo! Maybe a blurb with protective Morpheus? Because why not? thank uuu💕
this has been sitting in my drafts for way too long, i am so sorry 💕
***
Protective Morpheus ~. Blurb
Pairing: Dream of the Endless x Reader
The temperature in the room dropped when the words were spoken. They rang through the air, sharp as a knife. The chatter around you stopped almost immediately, someone even gasped.
You starred at the God in front of you, cheeks burning, throat closing. Everyone heard it, everyone stared, and embarrassment rushed through when you couldn't think of anything. No clever comeback, no funny joke. And then again - were you even allowed to speak to him like that? To defend yourself? You were a nymph, nothing more, standing in a room full of Gods and Goddesses and Endless'.
You knew this was a mistake.
"Say that again," Morpheus voice was almost... soft. But you caught it - the undertone. It let the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
The God tensed up and looked over your shoulder. "W-what?"
The King of Dreams was gone and instead the King of Nightmares had appeared by your side. Darkness was now seeping through the room, shadows circling the God - the fool - who had dared to insult his lover.
"Call her that again," Morpheus said, staring him down. The depth of his voice hummed inside of you. "Come on. Don't be shy."
You had never felt more terrified for another being and yet, you had never felt more protected.
"I apologize, I... " The God stumbles over his words and backs away, the crowd behind him separating, making way.
"I doubt that'll be enough."
***
send me an ask and i will write you a blurb
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𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐬' 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬.
⊹ pairing: morpheus x reader
⊹ summary: how morpheus, dream of the endless, the king of dreams, or as you know him: your love, expresses his love
⊹ warnings: some explicit language, but mostly none (however my inputs are slightly out of control in this one—case and point: this note)
⊹ word count: 3107
𝗴𝗶𝗳𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 you are talking to the king of dreams. the Endless who's responsible for seeing what people dream about, what they're scared of, and managing it. this is also the same Endless who thought it would be a fun idea to put his power into three of his favourite things. of course gifts is going to be his main love language
as the lord of dreams, of course his first instinct is to give you whatever you want. to create whatever you wan. he genuinely finds pleasure in creating something himself to give to you
(dare i say a kink)
has definitely fashioned a dream after you. whatever impact you have on morpheus (make him warmer, kinder, see the beauty in humans and their short but well-lived lives, etc...), that dream because that for others
no need to buy new clothes when he can just make you whatever you want
you want the top half of that one dress but the bottom half of another? check your closet.
you want the new book from your favorite author but it doesn’t release for another six months? check your mail.
you want that chocolate that was discontinued? check your cabinets?
even if you’re not in the palace of the dreaming at all times, he insists that you live in one in the waking world. so he buys/inspires an architect to make you your dream apartment/house
if its an apartment and you live by yourself? still gets you a three bedroom for no fucking reason other than he wants you to be comfortable. there used to be a hill that blocked your window? your architect was inspired to demolish it. you want it back? your architect is inspired to build one
if it’s a house, insert lazy river (honestly, if i had the money to waste and spend, i’d get one for myself. alas, the only lazy river i get is when my sink overflows) cue to you casually floating on a donut floatie while reading a book, doing laps around your house over and over again
if you do a form of art, you’ll get a room dedicated to it. a library. a painter’s studio. a photography room. sculpting nook. all of it and more.
there is nothing you could want that he could not give you
and never ever bring up money unless you want a mysterious and rude amount of money deposited into your account to wake up to
he'll also go to great lengths if you need a particular item (exhibit a: him going into the lake to get gifts for the fates. he did all that for his items, so imagine what he'd do for you)
but you want to know what the best gift he gives you?
his coc
𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗶𝗰𝗲 this man will be begging for you to let him do things for you. in this essay—
(did you see the calliope episode? because that part of episode 1.11 is basically exhibit b for this section)
someone said something mean to you? bam. they will be plagued by nightmares of someone he loves saying those things to him until he dies.
if you’re a better person than him and won’t let him mentally torture people for as long as he likes and thinks they deserve, he’ll omit telling you that he’s torturing people. what you don’t know, won’t hurt, right?
but if you’re flirting with the line that is morally good and you do consent to letting him torture people, he might show you his progress on them and their decaying sanity
“look at what i have done with the love i have for you.”
you still get nightmares when you sleep, not because he wants to hurt you, but because nightmares can actually help you. dreams can inspire us to be better, but so can nightmares. for example, being visited by a nightmare that shows you your fear of failing that test makes you wake up and be motivated to study. what he does do for you is restrain the nightmares? he lets them scare you enough to act as a motivator, but not extremely that you are crippled with fear and anxiety
protective morpheus (currently sobbing)
when you wake and leave the Dreaming, he’s gone but there’s always a cup of coffee with you
acts of service also include making others do acts. rather than get a phone, forces matthew to carry messages between you and him instead.
if you're studying and need information on something, he'll have lucienne prepare a stack of books, and maybe even notes, for you to see to when you return to him in the Dreaming
but the biggest act of service he can do for you is meet your friends
lets you drag him to parties and dinner and brunches
might not socialize (probably will not), and you might find him standing in the corner becoming a shadow, but he won't bother you to leave until you want to
he'll watch you the whole time
takes care of your drinks (and everyone else's)
or, he might follow you around like a shadow. no matter who you talk to, he'll be standing beside you, an arm around your waist
if you're a social butterfly, he admires that about you
if you're more socially introverted, he'll hang out with you in the shadows and leave when you want to, even if you've only been there for five minutes
basically he's a simp—and he might actually proudly admit to being one because who's the one who's dating you in the end?
𝗽𝗵𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 before his confinement, he wasn’t the most physical person. he wouldn’t pull away, but he didn’t reach for you either, though he always secretly liked it. after his imprisonment, he begins to reach for you. not just that, but he begins to crave your touch. touch is how he reminds himself that he is with you, you are with him, and that he is free
in public, it’s limited but clear that you’re together
the last thing he needs is hearing matthews’ teasing squawks in his ear about morpheus being the endless version of a cat
when lucienne catches pda, she’ll at least be respectful and dignified and not comment, though she will be grinning like a cheshire cat and her eyes will keep looking
your arm around his when walking around
his hand on your back
then your lower back
brushing your hair out of your face
sitting close enough for shoulder and legs to touch
standing close
(once again, I bring up the calliope episode—someone stop me from rewatching that over and over again)
did you see how close they were standing? then, when you thought they were close enough, he takes an even closer step? that. THAT.
whatever concept you have of personal space, a personal bubble, this man is inside it. yes, your arms might be linked while walking. but your sides will be pressed together.
and while it might appear that you're the one who links your arms together, he is the one who already has his elbow slightly bent and held out towards you
when you do hold hands, his thumb brushes over your skin absentmindedly, as if feeling your warmth isn’t enough and it’s a constant reminder of him that you’re there
but when you do the same to him, or gods help him, you squeeze it, he, with every fibre of his being, will feel it and nearly stop from the overwhelming feelings that threaten to send him to the ground
so keep it sparingly
...or not
kisses in public..truthfully, he's probably leaning towards no. full on make out sessions? probably not. when you guys are saying goodbye, i’m seeing more of a tight, slightly awkward dip of the head—a farewell not
but, bringing that calliope episode up once again, he won’t don't anything if you were to initiate it.
kiss on the cheek? you better hold that position for a few fucking seconds so you can let that man close his eyes and savour the intimateness that is the feeling of your soft lips against his cold cheek.
why don’t you press your forehead against the side of his head while you’re at it? you know, when you’re done kissing him but before you pull away. think of it as giving him a few seconds to revert back to cold, formal morpheus, dream of the endless, and not your boyfriend/partner
stares at you when you’re not looking
stares at you even when you're looking
stares down at you when you're asleep in his arms
stares up at you when he's down on his knees between your—sorry, wrong fic
imagine those intense eyes just looking at you and not looking away, not ashamed at taking in the beauty that is his partner
he has no qualms when someone is staring at you, because how he can be blame them
but he does have qualms when their gaze turns into a leer. that's when he'll send a couple nightmares their way for a few directions. not to mention, he'll turn his gaze from you to glare them down, and because they have now deprived him from admiring you for the few seconds this last, he blames it on them and gives them a...gift (and a visit to desire if he finds out they had something to do with it)
on the rare occasion that he's actually using his throne and sitting on it rather than dramatically sitting on the steps after he spread his coat out around him, he might let you sit on his lap (nothing more...in public)
not straddling him—god no—but sitting horizontal so your legs are over his lap and your side is against his chest with your arms around his neck and his arms around your waist
he does that when he needs to relax
he might whisper his problems and insecurities in your ear
but in private—in private—this man is draped over you
he’ll be like a cat who actually likes his owner and will curl up on you
if you’re cuddling, you’ll lie with your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulders, maybe playing with your hair
he may or may not use a bit of his sand to help you sleep if you’re having troubles entering his realm, but with him drawing random shapes on your skin or the steady rise and fall of his chest, or, if you're really lucky, he's reading aloud in that quiet, low, asmr voice of his, you're gone all too quickly
he always feels a bit stiff when the cuddle session begins, but after you lie down on him long enough, his limbs soften before gripping onto you tighter
but back to that no-such-thing-as-a-personal-bubble with him
walls
bringing into evidence, exhibit c: episode 1.03 with johanna constantine
why does he have to be so physically close with everyone (that isn't me)
likes to walk you backwards until you hit a wall
once you hit that wall, he may or may not take an even closer step
then closer
and even closer, but his arms are still in his pockets because he's cool and edgy like that (and intimidatingly hot)
close enough until he's kissing you
then he'll press against you to be even closer
we can unpack the trauma that being separated from everyone he loves for 100 years and being physically separated by a wall of glass some other day. for now, enjoy his closeness
because basically, close is still too far for him
𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 not 24/7 hanging out, because he is the king of dreams and he has a realm to run, but he does spend his time with you wisely, and just because you're not with him all the time, doesn't mean he isn't thinking about you all the time
his favourite thing is the two of you being in each other’s presence but working on your own things. he appreciates it more than he realizes, and during the times you sit to the side as he makes new dreams, he’ll sometimes put aspects of you in them—intentionally or unintentionally
when you aren't together, he'll still be consumed with thoughts of you
he thinks of you all the time, actually. and because of that, he also talks about you all the time, sometimes subconsciously. and sometimes with no reason at all—or perhaps the only reason he needs to bring you up is because you're you and he's in love with you
"y/n did extremely well on her project, did you hear?"
"did you hear about my report on the rogue nightmares, sir?" matthew asks.
"she worked very hard on it. i'm proud of her."
thinks about you when doing research in the library with lucienne
wonders about you when going on walks with death
mentions you on dinners with hob
dates with him doesn't have to be the most exciting thrilling thing. in fact, he likes living in domestic bliss with you. doing dishes together. helping you with laundry. watching a movie. people watching. walking your pets.
he usually leaves you alone when you’re awake and uses that time for his duties while you’re busy doing awake things anyway, but when you do fall asleep and are in the dreaming, that’s when the two of you are always together, stuck at the hip (and we're back to the closeness)
takes you out to dinner everyday where he listens to you talk and rant about your day and give you suggestions. he eventually does the same with you, and you become the first person he goes to whenever he needs consultations for his problems
insert jealous hob when he finds him and you eating and morpheus actually talking to you and not just sitting there quietly like with him
but hob gets over it (he doesn’t) and sometimes he’ll join dinner with you guys.
family dinners in his realm with you, hob, death, lucienne, marvin (and only because you invited him), matthew (though morpheus gives him a dog bowl rather than a plate)
during the moments the two of you are together, he treasures and cherishes it
and during the moments when it's just the two of you together, he'll definitely make it worth both your while
drawing it out (if you know what i mean)
and i mean, teasing you for hours and sessions that go until you wake—
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ha no. did you see how emotionally constipated this man was? how he can't tell calliope he still loves her, admit to hob that they're friends, and ask for help from death? words are not the dream king's weapon
the most you get is a term of endearment, like my love or my beloved
always 'mine' though
but this Endless is not about to spout off a pride and prejudice speech at you, so don’t bother waking up early and going for a hike. just sleep and hang out with him in the Dreaming instead in silence
however he does have a beautiful voice—one that as his partner, you are allowed to take advantage of. cue making him read pride and prejudice at you (especially that speech: “you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i love…i love…i love you. i never wish to b parted from you from this day on.”) you with his head on your lap, him sitting against a tree with the branches over the both of you for some shade. one hand is holding up the book, the other is absentmindedly twirling your hair. when he finishes the line, he looks down at you, slightly amused but completely enamoured, especially at the giddy expression on your face, and he dips down to kiss you
he tells you that he inspired jane austen to write that speech for you—it’s up to you if you want to believe him or call it bullshit
while he might not be giving love confessions every three seconds, he does give you compliments. and not just when you do something that warrants a compliment, but randomly. because to him, everything you do is majestic and needs to be acknowledged as so
"you're beautiful" when you're in casual clothes, sweats, pyjamas, (or bare)
"what would the world do without you?" when you hold open the door for an elderly couple
and you know he says it against your ear, voice low, his whispered words hot and heavy. maybe even a little raspy—
but just because he might not be the chatterbox on the block, doesn't mean he doesn't want someone talking to him
so don't give him the silent treatment, because when he does, he becomes insufferable to everyone
he's all curt to lucienne. snappy with matthew. demanding with poor marvin. sharp with cain and abel. rude with death. threatening with desire.
no one has nice dreams and nightmares become so much worse
not you, of course. you're still sleeping perfectly fine, but you realize something's wrong when you meet up with your friends and one of them hasn't slept in days while the other hasn't woken up in days
if it's his fault, it might take death for him to realize his mistakes and apologize to you. again, no long speech, just the simple words, "i'm sorry. i was wrong. please forgive me, my love." and considering this man's flaw is his ego, that is more than enough
and if you tell him to say it on his knees he will as he whispers it against your—
but if you're at fault, he won't back down until you apologize. however, he won't leave you alone. he'll always be there in the corner of your eye, waiting for you to apologize. and when you do, he'll purse his lips, nod, and say nothing. but you'll know he's already forgiven you when his eyes soften and he gives you that soft smile that's reserved for so few people
he might not talk to you, but he does want you to talk to him, so ramble away
let's not get started on what he says in private, but i'll tell you this. he isn't so silent anymore, and he will definitely appreciate whatever you tell him in whatever form—and might even strive to create and draw such sounds from you
a plea
a cry
a groan
a whimper
a scream—
in conclusion, this man will love you with every piece of him. (and if i could, i would do the same morpheus please just give me a chance)
𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 1.06 𝗍𝗈 1.11. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 this 𝗆𝖺𝗇. 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽?
𝗂'𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 14𝗁 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝖾, 𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽
𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘶𝘴' 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯
𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!
#the sandman imagine#morpheus imagine#morpheus x reader#dream imagine#dream x reader#dream of the endless x reader#sandman fanfiction#dream fanfiction#sandman imagine#sandman headcanons#morpheus headcanons
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