#Morpheus x afab!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roguelov · 1 year

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Remember Me

Summary: On a trip to the Waking, Dream returned but, with something missing. He had no memories of you, of his love. So, you may have an idea on how to get his memories back.

Word Count: ~4k

Reader: Afab

Warnings: Smut (unprotected sex, riding, minor oral (male!receiving), minor dirty talk), slight angst in beginning, lots of fluff at the end

Requested by the lovely @duckland

MINORS DNI/ 18+ ONLY

“I’m sorry.”

It was the same repetitive drone - an annoying buzz in your ears.

Who were they sorry for?

You? Or Morpheus, your sweet Morpheus?

Morpheus had taken a trip to the Waking only to return broken - or at least broken to you. You were not sure how, why, or who did it, but Morpheus could not remember you. He could not remember any aspect, not any of the time spent together, not even your name.

Everyone - the entirety of the Waking and even a few of Dream’s siblings - tried to help. They tried anything and everything to return his memories, but it all ended in failure. Now, you were left with pointless apologies, apology after apology each one grating on your nerves.

So, you hid.

Hiding from the pitiful stares, hiding from the insurmountable heartache, hiding from the one person who you cherished more than creation itself.

However, you couldn’t - and shouldn’t - hide forever. And before you worked up the courage, your feet had already carried you to him, carried you home. You knocked on the bedroom door, knocked on your own bedroom door.

A voice, so soothing and resounding, spoke from the other side. “You may enter.”

You opened the door, peeking your head in.

Morpheus sat perfectly straight on the edge of the vast bed draped in his signature midnight color. His eyes, those beautiful twinkling blue, stared off emotionless as he retreated deep within his thoughts searching through his shattered memories. His hands clasped together, yet he mindlessly twisted a ring - a ring he cannot recall giving nor receiving, a matching ring you wore on your hand.

His eyes slid over to you, blank and reserved.

Eyes of a forgotten life.

He stopped fidgeting with his hands, and placed them in his lap. He nodded, respectfully. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You hovered by the door. “Is it okay if I come in?”

“This is your place, just as it is mine so please do not feel you cannot enter because of my sake.”

You nodded, closing the door behind you. You shuffled over, and plopped down on the bed with a sizable space between the two of you. Swallowing down the pain, you whispered. “Did any of it help? Being in here? Seeing our life together?”

Morpheus paused, then solemnly shook his head. “I am truly sorry, but I cannot recall you nor our life together.”

Your throat constricted. You blinked back a few tears and nodded, turning away from him.

“I wish I could.” He confessed in a soft voice. His attention was back on the ring. “I cannot remember anything, but it does pain me to see such a sullen look on your face” - his eyes flickered over, connecting with yours “- and if such feelings reside in me then maybe not all hope is lost.”

You blinked.

And surprisingly, you laughed. A short bubble of laughter.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed together.

“You,” you smiled softly at him, “you are still my Dream; still hopeful despite it all.”

His eyes widened slightly, taken back by your statement. Yet, his shock vanished, giving way to a kind, gentle smile. A loving smile only you ever saw. “I am beginning to see why you are part of my life.”

You laughed again, a true loud laugh filled with joy and hope.

Oh, it was like an old melody to Morpheus. One he had rediscovered after centuries, and nearly lost to time. His heart skipped - a quick flutter. He truly loved such thrilling feelings - feelings that he deeply missed, feelings that apparently came true again with you.

“What?” He breathed out, wishing to hear the reason for your honey rich laughter.

“Sorry,” your laughter faded, but a wide grin was left behind, “you always said you couldn’t imagine a life without me. I guess hearing you say that just proves that your memories of us are still inside you just locked away somehow.”

“Ah.”

You smiled. “You know, you called me your North Star once, that I was the one thing always guiding you back home.”

“My star.” He whispered, tasting how the words were familiar on his lips.

Your breath hitched. “Yeah, your star.”

A frown tugged on the corner of his lips. Questions surged. Why did this happen? How could it be fixed? Why did his heart ache in your presence? Why were his thoughts scrambled and confusing? How could he forget his love?

How could he forget his beautiful star?

Seeing his frown, you leaned over and clasped his hand. His eyes fell to your hand. Hesitantly, unsure of himself, he turned his hand, offering his palm. You instantly, like all the times before, intertwined your fingers with his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We will figure this out.”

He continued to stare at your hand in his, stare at the set of matching rings. He wordlessly nodded.

“Morpheus.”

His eyes trailed up.

You tilted your head and smiled, trying to ease any of his worries and pains. With your free hand, you reached out to cup his face, but froze. Your hand hovered awkwardly beside his face. He was Dream, your Dream, but you weren’t his - you were still a stranger.

“You may touch me.” His voice was low, oddly thick with uncertain emotions.

You cupped his face.

He immediately leaned into your touch, and sighed in relief. Odd, how a stranger brought such comfort.

But how can I unlock his memories? You thought.

You brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. “Can … can I try something?”

“What?”

“Could,” you nervously licked your lips, “could I kiss you? I … I don’t know if it could help or -“

“You may.” He answered.

Anything, he thought. Anything to remember you.

You blinked, surprised by his eagerness. You mumbled a shaky ‘okay’. You scooted closer, and drew his face towards yours. Your eyes dropped to his lovely pink lips. Leaning in, your lips brushed over his, almost waiting for him to tell you to stop. Nothing, no objections. You closed your eyes and pressed a gentle chaste kiss.

However, Morpheus stared, rigid. Somehow overwhelmed and underwhelmed all at once.

Just a hollow ache.

You began to pull back.

“Is that how you greet your husband?” Morpheus amused by your short fleeting kiss.

You hummed, smiling. “If you want something, then ask my dear husband.”

His heart leapt into his throat.

A memory, just a passing snippet, but one memory had returned. You backed away, but he soon quickly chased after you. His arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. “Again,” he muttered against your lips, “please, kiss me again.

You didn’t hesitate, and you didn’t hold back.

You kissed him with more passion - with more desperation.

Please, bring him back to me.

You threw your arms over his shoulders, and carded your fingers through the ends of his hair. He sighed, fluttering his eyes closed. Your lips moved in sync, in this wondrous dance of take and give. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss. Your tongue grazed over his bottom lip. It ached for entry, and you could only pray he would answer. And he did, he relinquished all control.

Your lips curled into a giddy smile. Your tongue slipped in, tasting him just as you’ve done so many times before. Your nails scraped against his head. He shivered. You tugged on his soft raven locks.

Morpheus hummed.

He was thrilled by how well you knew his body, and how easily he reacted to your touch.

Without thinking, he moved you. He brought you onto his lap.

It was instinctual, completely out of habit.

Your hands slid out of his hair, dragging your nails down his neck, down his shoulders, and rested on his chest. You bunched up his shirt. Needs and pleasure clouded you. You gently pushed on him. He fell back onto the blankets and pillows.

His chest heaved - all his air was stolen by you. Not only the air in his lungs, but his thoughts were stolen too.

Stolen by a not quite stranger.

Breathless, you stared down at Morpheus. His eyes showed no signs of recognition, only hints of wonder and confusion for the stranger who knew him so well. Did I take it too far? Am I overstepping? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -“

“It’s okay,” he said. “I asked for that, did I not?”

You nodded and quietly asked, “So, did … did it help? Did you remember anything?”

“I did.”

“You did?” You tried not to let your excitement overtake you.

“It was small, a simple conversation.”

“Okay, uh, that’s good,” you whispered.

Your lips still tingled with the ghost of his, and you could still taste him on your tongue. Nervously, you adjusted yourself to comfortably straddle his waist. Your hands still laid on his chest, resting above his beating heart.

Should you keep going?

God, you wanted to.

But.

“We can keep going or we can stop. Just tell me. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” You said.

Morpheus’s hands skimmed up your thighs, and curled around your hips. Again, it was such a natural act - it was what felt right.

You smirked down at him. The sunlight from Fiddler’s Green haloed around you. “What do you want, my king?”

“You.” He answered. His hands latched onto your hips, not wishing for you to be anywhere else. “You and only you, my love - my star.”

Morpheus blinked.

Another memory, another wonderful memory. His back itched at the faint memory of the prickly blades of grass, and his skin was warmed by the nonexistent sun.

It was all here. All the memories of you were still here.

“Morpheus?” You asked, concerned by his silence.

He swallowed, tightening his grip on you. “Do not stop.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I want to remember.”

You smiled. You bent down, and kissed him softly. “As you wish, my king.”

My king.

He loved how it rolled off your tongue.

Yours.

You trailed kisses down his jaw and neck. He instantly craned his head, surprised by how his body simply acted.

“I will never grow tired of marking your skin,” you whispered the confession into the crook of his neck. Your teeth grazed over his flawless skin, making him shiver. You enjoyed - immensely - marking his skin, enjoyed how easily he bruised, and how quickly he healed to repeat the process all over again the next night. “And you may not remember now, but I know you love it when I do.”

“Louder,” you murmured. You nipped at his neck, adding to the countless amount of love bites you created. “I want the whole kingdom to hear you.”

Morpheus groaned.

“Again.”

A moan, faint and soft, rumbled in the back of his throat. Memories and reality clashed together, fueling his growing pleasure.

You sat back, and ran your hands down his chest. Biting your lip, you slipped your hands under his shirt.

His breath stuttered.

Your delicate fingers traced over every curve, every taunt muscle, every inch of his body. To you, his body was an instrument. You knew where to touch to draw out such lovely sounds, to create a symphony of pleasure. Slowly, you lifted up his shirt, revealing the body you had seen dozens upon dozens times before. The body of a friend, the body of a lover, the body of your husband.

Before you could ask, Morpheus sat up, shucked off his coat and shirt then tossed it all onto the floor.

Excited, you started to remove your shirt, when his hands stopped you.

“May I?” He asked.

You smiled. “Of course.”

Taking the hem of your shirt, he carefully lifted it up and over your head, throwing it into the pile he created. His eyes fell to your body - a body he had not seen before, but his hands knew of it. They danced over your skin, running over your curves and edges. Like muscle memory.

Yet, he did not touch you where you wanted him to. You swiftly unclipped your bra, adding it to the pile on the floor.

Morpheus, however, stared, transfixed by you.

“You can touch me,” you whispered. “I want you to touch me.”

His hands brushed up your sides and cupped your bare breasts. You let out a breathy sigh, and dropped your head forward. He gently played with them, kneading and occasionally pinching your hardened nipples. He was more enthralled by your soft moans that constantly tumbled out of your parted lips.

But, he quickly moved on.

One hand glided up your chest, and grabbed the back of your neck, bringing you to him.

Your lips.

He could not get enough of your lips.

“Morpheus,” you mumbled as his lips left yours. “What are you doing?”

He smiled, one that hid secrets. “Can I not kiss the one I love?”

You huffed, smiling back at him. “You can, but here? In the library?“

He swooped in again, stealing another kiss. “I wish to kiss you wherever and whenever I please.”

Morpheus parted his lips, and slipped his tongue in your mouth. It swirled around, savoring each second. He knew without thinking exactly how to render you into a mess.

And a mess you were becoming.

You whimpered, and clung to him. You rolled your hips, needing just a bit of friction.

Morpheus moaned in your mouth.

Empowered by it, you rolled your hips again.

He swiftly broke the kiss, releasing a shaky breath. All of this was insanity, but he wouldn’t stop - couldn’t.

And neither could you.

You were becoming relentless.

You kissed up and down his neck, and soon nipped at him. The first of many marks to come. He hummed, and wrapped his arms around your waist. You bit him again, and again, sucking on his bruisable skin. He groaned, holding you tighter.

“I will make you remember me,” you promised.

He shivered. Such an exciting promise.

You pushed him back down. And he willingly complied.

Smiling, you then began to kiss down his chest. Occasionally, biting and sucking at his skin.

He sighed, closing his eyes.

Marking up his chest, you moved farther and farther downwards. You kissed each of his hips, then paused - paused at the waistband of his pants, clearly in the way. You peered up at him.

He cracked open his eyes, glancing down at you. His heart soared at such a sight: you peering up through your lashes with a teasing smile on your swollen lips. Licking his lips, he nodded - a quick jerk.

Your smile widened.

Undoing his pants, you swiftly discarded all the layers of confining fabrics, including his underwear. The King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realm laid completely bare before you, with red splotches dotted over his once perfect skin, just like so many times before.

Your eyes fell to his hardened cock. Biting back a smile, you carefully wrapped your fingers around it.

He tilted his chin back, groaning through clenched teeth. With the barest feathery touch, pleasure - unadulterated pleasure - surged through him. Pleasure he didn’t know of, but his body certainly did.

“Remember all of our nights spent together.” You teasingly stroked him. His mouth fell open, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Remember how some of those nights I had you begging.”

“Say it, Morpheus.”

Morpheus sprawled out on his back. Sweat covered his forehead, making his usually chaotic hair lay down flat. He was left utterly breathless. His hand was tangled in your hair, tugging on it in a silent plea to keep going. He licked his lips, and mumbled, “Please.”

You smirked, peering up at him with your face nestled between his legs. You peppered butterfly kisses up his cock. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

Morpheus moaned.

Your thumb ran over his tip collecting his precum. Your movements were painstakingly slow, easing him - or torturing him in his case - to his high.

He greedily bucked his hips.

“Patience,” you purred, “I need you to remember all of it.”

You let go of him, and he nearly whined.

“Remember how my lips feel against your skin.” You nipped his hip, bruising him further. “Remember how my hands trail over your body.” Your hands skimmed up his sides, sending waves of goosebumps. “Remember how I whisper and moan in your ear.” You crawled on top of him, and ducked your head and gently blew at his ear. He shivered. “Remember how much you mean to me.”

“I love you.”

Morpheus froze. He slowly turned, looking at you. You were gaping like a fish, stunned by your own sudden confession.

“I … I do,” you mumbled, finding your voice again, “and you don’t have to say anything right now. I just … I just thought you should know. I love you, Morpheus.”

He stayed silent, his expression was blank.

Embarrassed, you glanced away.

“Love … love is something I know of fondly, and I also know of the heartbreak and ruin that inevitably follows.” His voice was barely above a whisper as the truth spilled out.

You peered back over at him.

His expression was now soft, and full of love and adoration. He gently cupped your face, bringing you close to him. He pressed his forehead to yours, letting his world be consumed by you. He smiled, “But with you, it feels … different. I know it will be. You keep me grounded, and I am safe and home with you by my side. You, my love, are my guiding star - my North Star, always bringing me back to you. So yes, I do love you. I love you more than you could ever fathom.”

You pulled away from him, looking down at his lust filled eyes - the dark void overtaking the pristine blue galaxies.

You quickly shimmed out of your pants and underwear, wanting to fill his needs, wanting him to come back to you.

You hovered over him. The tip of his cock skimmed over your wet folds. You cursed under your breath. While, Morpheus’s hands latched onto your hips, excited and relieved. He almost pushed you down himself. But, thankfully, you finally gave in.

You sank down on him, enjoying how he stretched and filled you.

His jaw clenched. Heavenly, would be one word to describe such a sensation. Addicting, would be another.

Your hands rested on his chest. You began to move your hips up and down - savoring it, memorizing it. How deliciously full you felt, how easily he meddled with your body.

Countless nights spent like this, countless nights of love and passion, countless nights of whispered confessions. You wouldn’t lose him, you couldn’t.

Your nailed dragged down his chest as you found a steady rhythm.

A moan rumbled in his throat.

His hands moved up and splayed across your back. He then, surprising himself, sat up. He was so desperate to have you closer. It was cold without your skin pressed up against his.

Cold and lonely.

Smiling at him, your hands moved to his shoulders for support. You continued to bounce, an easy languid pace, watching as pleasure washed over his features. Your fingers played with the edges of his hair, occasionally tugging on him sending shivers down his spine.

Then, you rolled your hips.

Waves of pleasure coursed through Morpheus. He dropped his head, nuzzling his face into your neck. His heavy breath fanned over your hot skin.

“Look at me, Morpheus, please.” His head fell back, staring up at you with dazed eyes. You smiled, and pressed your forehead to his. “I’m right here. I got you.”

Looking into your eyes, he was lost within them.

Lost within the surge of memories.

Each one zipped by, each one beautiful and loving, from the moment you met to the last one - him kissing you goodbye before he left for the Waking. It was a chaotic whirlwind, leaving him dizzying and his heart pounding.

He blinked as tears welled up, he matched your smile and cupped your face. “My star.”

Your heart skipped. Is he -

“My sweet star,” he pressed his lips to yours, “how could I forget you.”

You laughed, almost about to cry with absolute joy. “Morpheus, my Dream, welcome back.”

He kissed you again, loving how your lips fit against his. The perfect puzzle piece, his other half, his guiding star.

He carefully flipped you around, gently laying you on your back. He smiled down at you, brushing away a tear that escaped your eye. Your smile was wide, and beautiful as ever. He loved your smile, loved how you lit up a room with it.

He rolled his hips, and his cock slid out and back in.

Your smile dropped as you let out a breathy moan.

He also loved to hear such sounds from you.

He buried his face into your neck. “My star, my love. Forgive me.”

You grabbed his face, making him look at you, “There is nothing to apologize for.”

Smiling, he took your hand, kissing your knuckles - kissing your ring. “Then allow me, your loving husband, to take care of you.”

He rocked his hips again.

You sighed in wonderful bliss and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him down to you. Each stroke filled you, each one hit all the right spots. Oh, it was great to have him back.

His hand trailed down your side, stopping at your thigh. In an instant, he swiftly hooked your leg up and over his shoulder. An intense bloom of pleasure coursed through you. You moaned loudly and unabashedly as you arched your back.

“How could I forget such beautiful sounds,” Morpheus hummed.

He snapped his hips.

You whimpered. Your nails clawed at his back. Ribbons of red slashed over his already bruised skin. He moved at a new, deliciously, unforgiving pace. Each stroke you saw stars. You barely could catch your breath.

“Morpheus,” you moaned.

“Hmm, how could I forget such beauty.” He lifted your hips, hitting a new spot.

You gasped.

The sinful sounds of skin smacking together, the sounds of him sliding in and out, the sounds of his heavy breathing and deep soothing voice - it was nearly too much. His hands re-explored what he had almost forgotten. He needed to touch you, touch every part of you. They grazed up your sides, and pinched one of your nipples.

You moaned.

“Never again.” He whispered.

He mercilessly pounded into you, committing every second to memory. He dared not forget a single second.

Your walls clamped around him, you would not last much longer. “Morpheus,” you warned him.

“Let me see it,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “Let me see what I’ve nearly forgotten.”

He would not forget you.

He would not forget how your lips fell apart as you cried out in pleasure, how your head tilted back into the pillows, how your eyes fluttered close and bliss overtook you. Smirking, he fiercely continued to work you through your orgasm, remembering how he loved to watch as you withered in overwhelming pleasure, as you clung to him whispering his name over and over. All of it was divine. Sweet bliss. He quickly followed, reaching his own end, as your name tumbled off his lips.

But, you swallowed up his sounds. You hungrily kissed him, drawing him down to you.

Morphues chuckled in the back of his throat.

You pulled away, cupping his face as he hovered over you. “Don’t you dare let something like that happen again.”

He smiled sweetly. “I promise.”

He bent down kissing you again. You hummed, thankful the cruel nightmare was over. Your Dream was back.

He whispered into your lips, “But, I will not object if this is how to regain my memories of you.”

You huffed through your nose. You brought him down onto the bed, so you could hold him properly, to have your husband back in your arms. “Later. Right now, I just want to stay right here like this.”

He wrapped his arms around you, grateful to be back. “As you wish, my star.”

Never again.

He will remember you, forever and always.

#the sandman #morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #dream x afab!reader #Morpheus x afab!reader #morpheus smut #dream smut #smut #the sandman smut #afab!reader

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arcade-writing · 2 years

Text

SWEET AS HONEY

NSFW 🍋

Pairing: Morpheus (dream) x AFAB! Reader

Warning: aphrodisiac used - both parties consenting, flood play, outdoor sex but in a private area, oral, face sitting, blow jobs, desperate sex, nipple play, overstimulation, established relationship, AFAB but gender not stated, french kissing, cum play, Cream pie, aftercare, porn with fluff, minor smelling kink from dream, implied both of you are switches, slight praise kink, LOTS of dirty talk

Absolutely obsessed with sandman at the moment. Morpheus owns my heart. My pathetic soggy meow meow. Been enjoying reading the fics on Tumblr and A03 and decided to give my hand at writing some smut for him!

"My lord, I am requesting your company in the gardens, it's been awhile since we've been able to enjoy a nice stroll."

Dream looked down at you from his throne. Tilting his head as he rested it in his palm. "Oh? And when are you expecting my company?"

"In 2 hours, I am assuming you're accepting my request."

"Always, it would be my pleasure."

You smiled. Turning on your heel as you marched out of throne room. Going straight to the kitchen to prepare some meals for the two of you, whilst dreams don't need to eat you weren't always a being of the dream realm. Once a human just like any other until you crossed paths with Morpheus. Gifted the abilities to walk through both realms as a guide to dreamers when he is away to important matters.

So whilst eating was not necessary, it gave you comfort. It was familiar.

But what was new was the small jar of honey by your hand. A gift. You gossiped with Desire whenever you could, they loved knowing every detail of your embarassing life. Listening to your worries and lack of confidence concerning their brother despite the two of you being together. And so, they gifted a jar of sweet aphrodisiac. A gentle one. One to give you a boost and spark your confidence. Strong enough to even effect an endless like themselves.

You needed to ask Dream before you opened it. You intended it to be for the both of you. And so you hurried along, getting your date ready.

You changed into something light, the sun beaming down on the realm was warm. The breeze cool. Perfect weather as always. You brushed out the blanket on the lush green field, admiring the fountain not too far away. A cobble path leading towards it and outwards, covered in moss and vines. The sound of the rushing water eased you nodded to yourself. Trying to calm down your racing heart.

You jogged back to the back of the castle, instantly colliding with the chest of the very man you were looking for. Looking up to see Dream offering you a smile. Small and warmer than the sun.

"Lead the way." Was all he said, linking his arms with yours.

You two took your time. It was peaceful back here. No one ever came out here unless it was for maintenance. It was the perfect place to be undisturbed.

"I have a gift for you but I want to know if you'll accept it." Your eyes flickered towards him. Your palms growing sweaty as you brows knitted. Worried he wouldn't approve.

"It's from Desire, up their mischief I assume."

He kept his eyes trained ahead. You just caught the small tug on the corner of his lips. Trying not to show his distain for his sibling. But he knew your relationship with them was friendly, Desire was kind in their way when they wanted to be. Even if there's always a catch.

Your eyes widened. A flash of surprise hitting you before you shook your head. "Of course you know." Looking up at him once more to watch his expression. "I was curious to try it but I need your permission, My lord."

"It is granted, i trust you."

Those words made your heart grow fuzzy. Trust from a being such as Morpheus was not easily gained. Often times it was given reluctantly. But you knew him, he was being honest. He truely trusted you and that was all you needed.

Once you two arrived at the picnic, you were first to move. Taking off your shoes and he did the same. Not wanting to track mud on the blanket. Sitting down and patted the spot beside. He followed you and sat down, elbows leaning on his propped up knees. You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. His eyes snapped to your direction, a smile tugging ever so slightly on his lips.

"What amuses you?"

"Just you, my Lord."

You grinned. Eyes trailing down to his lips. So pouty. So soft. No Matter how many times you've kissed you still couldn't stop imagining how they would feel. Wanting it imprinted on your memory until you couldn't think of anything else.

"We are alone, starlight, I wish to hear my name from your lips."

"Would you like some tea, Morpheus?" Straying from your thoughts as you tried to not focus on the heat rising up your neck.

He nodded. Finding words not necessary as he helped you take out the tea set you put in the basket. Carefully pouring out the misty tea from the flask as you grabbed the jar of honey. Looking at him, waiting for him to say anything. Wanting to give him another chance to consider his decision but he just took it from your hands. Stirring a glob of honey in each of your cups.

You pulled out the box of chocolates you made the night before then strawberries.

"How fitting, starlight." He mused, grabbing the heart shaped fruit. It was a vibrant red, plump too. Perfect. Watching as you pulled out more fruit, blueberry and cherries. You made sure they were seedless.

Happily stretching out your legs as you got comfortable. Leaning on your elbows as you took a cherry from its container. Biting down with a soft groan. Dream mirrored your position and plucked the cherry from your fingers. His tongue poking where you bit before he ate the rest.

Your cheeks flushed as you watched him smile once more. "Very sweet." He sucked the juices off his thumb, not daring to break eye contact.

Finding your mouth parting, wishing to say something but unable to find the words. You took your cup of tea, taking a long sip avoiding his intense gaze. He chuckled as he used two fingers to push down your drink.

"Slow down, take it in small portions or you'll be too overwhelmed."

You nodded. Feeling a fuzz run through your veins. Trying to calm yourself as you took a chocolate. Shaped as a ball with a cream filling. Shyly pushing it to his lips, which parted eagerly to try what you made. His tongue poking the tip of your finger. That fuzz spiked into a shock of electricity. Already feeling it's effects creep through your system.

He took a small gulp of his own drink trying to even out your situation. A warm flush spread from his throat down to his stomach. His muscles beginning to relax as the heat caressed him.

You grabbed another chocolate, he did the same. Copying you like an inexperienced actor. This ordeal unfamiliar to him as he's never had to eat before, not like you. But he felt a small twinge of magic flow back into him everytime. After all, he made the trees bloom in your little garden, the kitchen you found yourself in made by him. His efforts to make you feel more at home.

Whilst he went to eating it whole, letting it melt on his tongue as he watched you. You took a small bite out of it, lapping up the white moose filling. Eyes looking up at him to watch his expression twitch. You felt pride swell knowing you were effecting him.

Dream took another gulp of his tea but this time a bigger one. His eyes darkening, trained on your every movement as you plucked more food into your mouth. His brows scrunching, holding back a noise as he pressed his stomach to the blanket. The slight friction felt like lightening.

You noticed. Looking down at the small tent, licking your lips. Of course he saw. He hasn't stopped staring at you since this picnic started.

"Hungry, my love?"

"Starved." You croaked out. Crawling towards him, careful not to knock anything over, your hands shakily reaching for his chest as you pushed him onto his back. Dream let you do as you please, enjoying the way you trembled. Your eyes frantic to soak in the sight of him.

Your body sunk lower, finding your place between his legs. Raking your nails over the fabric making his breath hitch. His muscles flexed under your touch as you began to unbutton his trousers. Tugging them down to his knees along with his underwear. Your hand dragging up his thigh to his toned stomach, lifting his shirt in the process. Each touch felt like fire on his skin, his breathing becoming more heavy. His fingers digging into the blanket as he tried to stay still. Trying to keep up his front of control.

He was dream of the endless. The nightmare king. The ruler of this realm and your king. The personification of the dreaming.

He was-

He was putty in your hands.

You slowly pumped his aching cock, relishing in the way it hardened in your grasp. Running your thumb over the vein that run along the underside. Your mind was becoming foggy with every twitch. Your own arousal becoming more apparent to you.

Suddenly, an idea struck your mind. Morpheus knew that look all too well. Biting back his groans as he tugged on your arm, wanting your focus back on him.

"What is that mind of yours conjuring?"

"Desire did tell me there were multiple ways to take this, I wanted to see what would be more effective." You chewed on your lower lip, still thinking of your next move. Trying to not get giddy with excitement knowing you were leaving him so desperate.

Dream had enough paitence to wait thousand's of centuries just to see the solar shower that happened across his families realms. But yet, here he was straining his body to not chase his own pleasure. His lips pulled into a small snarl as he wanted nothing more than you to move your hand.

"And how do you plan to do that, starlight?"

You grabbed the spoon with your free hand, your other than squeezing the base of his cock. He let out a shaky gasp as he jerked his hips up. Humming as you tasted the honey, it was sweeter than you expected. Sharp on your tongue as you kept it on your tongue.

Moving back between his legs and laid on your stomach. Holding his hips as your mouth swallowed around the tip of his cock. The honey dripping down as you sucked, coating his sex completely. His sensitivity going from 5 to 100. Choking out a cry as he throw his head back. Thrusting up into your mouth as you greedily took in as much as you could. Using one of your hands to squeeze and twist the base.

You sucked on the head. Swirling your tongue over the slit making him groan. His fingers ripping at the blanket, your hand kept jerking as you could see he was getting closer.

"You can take all of it, I know you can my love, Take it." It was not a command but a plea. His gorgeous eyes shimmering with tears. Just needing that push to the edge.

And who were you to deny your king?

You removed your hand making him curse under his breath. Forcing his hips to stay down with both hands as you slowly bobbed your head. Taking more inches each time as you loosened your jaw. Feeling him slide into your throat as you adjusted your head, pulling his cock more towards you.

The warmth of your mouth surrounded him. Feeling your tongue drag as you moved your head once more. Up and down. Taking everything right down to the base. He choked on his breath. Feeling himself tip. Throwing his head back as he thrusted harshly into your mouth, cum squirting in thick ropes.

You came off with a wet pop. Panting as your nails dug into his hips. The arousal between your legs was pooling. Dream watched you closely as you crawled up. Sitting between his legs as you rolled out your tongue. Showing off the mixture of spit, honey and his cum. It was filthy. You felt it but seeing his eyes widen only made you shiver. His large hands grabbing at your body as he yanked you towards him.

His lips crashing against yours. His tongue prying through your parted lips. Groaning as your tongues glided against each other. Able to taste himself fully. It was bitter yet intoxicatingly sweet from the honey. You could feel his hand on your neck, squeezing as he tried to pull you closer. You pawed at his chest and shoulder. Pressing your body against him as much as you could. But it wasn't enough.

His fingers making you squirm as they grabbed at your shirt. Only leaning back to remove, throwing it to who knows where. Your clothed heat flush against his cock. Both of you letting out a groan. You let out a squealed laugh as he started kicking off his pants. Reaching back to help him. Why he always insisted on wearing such tight clothing you'll never understand.

You let out a gasp as your back hit the blanket. He tugged down your pants, throwing them to the pile of your scattered clothes. Only leaving with your underwear.

Completely weak beneath him. Trapped under his form as he took in the sight of you. Rubbing your thighs together as you sought out your own pleasure. You needed him. Needing to hear more of his noises. To feel his hands on you. To be inside you.

All you could do was whine. "Touch me"

"I'll do more than that, starlight, I'll kiss every inch of your body as you squirm underneath me."

And true to his word, He held your waist. Caressing your sides as his head dunked down. Kissing along your jaw as he spoke. You rolled your hips up, trying to seek out his body but it was futile. Gasping as his knee pressed against your sex.

"I'll caress and mark your body, you are mine, I will make sure every being understands that." He kissed you down to your chest, sucking on the skin just above it.

His fingers swiped at the honey, taking as much as he could. Spreading it to both hands as he kept kissing your collar bones. Smearing the sticky treat across your chest as he fondled the flesh. Rolling your nipples between two fingers. Pinching them as the honey coated them.

You let out a loud moan, your sensitivity flying. It felt so warm. Like electricity was sparking on your nerves. Mewling as he tugged them. His usual stoic expression morphed into a smirk. Completely smug.

"Taste you until you're trembling and gasping-"

He grabbed as your side, kissing down to your nipple before taking it in his mouth. You couldn't help but grind against his knee. Growing more desperate as the aphrodisiac flooded your system. Already feeling it's sparks from the tea and now feeling it ten fold.

His other hand moved from your other nipple and now Infront of your parted lips. Honey coated them still as you took it in your mouth. Humming as your swirled your tongue around his digits. Your eyes trailing down to see his cock still hard. Straining against him. The head was blushing a dark red as pre cum spilled.

Releasing your nipple he continued his descent down your body. His fingers leaving your mouth with a string of salvia connecting to to them.

"Stealing every chance of breath as I devour you." He moved his body to lay down. His nose nudging your clit. Taking in a deep inhale, smelling your arousal. You wanted to force Your legs shut, embarrassed but he kept them open with his shoulders.

A scream was ripped from you as he tore off the only piece of cloth you had left. Leaving it tattered on the ground as he grabbed your legs. His back slamming down on the grass whilst you sat on his chest. You clutched at the ground trying to stabilize yourself after the sudden movement. Shaking as he just let out a deep chuckle.

Gliding his hands up your thighs as he tugged them forward. You hovered over him, thinking you were crushing him but he guided you over his face. You clenched air as you grabbed his head. "Morpheus...."

"Are you not my lover? Do you not deserve your very own throne? Sit on my face, my love, let me please you."

With that you let yourself lower. Clenching his head between your thighs as he licked a long strip up your folds.

"I could feel how wet you were but now I'm tasting you? You're more addicting than any aphrodisiac."

His words were going straight down to your core. His tongue lapping up what he could. Groaning as he tried to bury his face deeper.

"You've done this to me before-"

"And everytime I can't get enough." He breathed out. Pulling your hips down, putting more of your weight on him. Whining as his noses pressed against your sensative bud.

His tongue squirming between your folds, starting to tongue fuck. You squirmed at the sensation, moving your hips to chase your pleasure. Anything he tried to say was muffled. The vibrations sending you reeling as you moaned.

You let out a cry as he tried to shove your sex even closer. His senses were entirely filled with you. But he insisted. Wanting more. Needing more. Drunk on your taste.

"Morpheus - please -"

Your hands weaved through his block locks. Tugging them rightly in shaky fists. He groaned as he finally moved his head. Sucking on your clit, gently rolling it between his teeth before he lapped it up. Your body heaved as it struck you. Feeling your release get closer and closer.

His eyes locked with yours. Knowing you were hanging on the edge. Parting from your throbbing sex for only a second. "Come for me."

It hit you like a storm. Crying out as your body flinched from how hard you came. But Morpheus didn't stop. Humming as he lapped up your juices. You tugged at his hair again trying to squirm away from his vicious mouth. Greedily taking every last drop from you.

"Too much-!"

Yet it felt so good. Your back arching as you melwed. Rolling your hips to get more but everytime you did it made you tremble. The pleasure becoming unbearable. You sobbed as he licked your clit.

"Morpheus-!" You screamed as a second orgasm crashed against you. Gasping for air as tears ran down your face.

He finally pried himself off you. His eyes were fixed on you. Hazy. Eyelids fluttering as he panted. You crawled back, sitting on his stomach as his hands caressed moved from your hips now to your back. Caressing your spine. Hugging you close to him. Smiling to himself as you shook in his arms. Feeling every twitch in your legs.

"You are cruel...." You whined. Hiding your face in his chest. He could feel your smile as you kissed his pale skin.

"That was mercy, my love, if you allowed it I would spend the rest of entirety with your thighs around my head."

You moaned at his words but as tempting as it was you needed to feel him. Unable to cool the fire souring through your body. As soon as your high ended you were coiled tight in need. Your desire only growing stronger as you grinded back on his sex. Sitting up as you positioned yourself over his thighs.

"I need...I need you to-"

You couldn't wait anymore. The fire consumed you. Clawing at your insides as all of it screamed for him. Morpheus sat up, leaning on his elbows. Only lifting one hand to cup your face. Making you look at him as you shuddered.

"Take what you need, I am your servant, use me."

You gripped his cock, your thumb pressing down on the slit as you guided him towards you. Groaning when he brushed against your aching bud. Unable to stop yourself as you rolled your hips, bouncing up and down as you kept him flush to your sex. The veins running up his dick rubbing against you deliciously.

Squeezing the head as you coated the underside with your juices. Your brain too far gone to feel ashamed. Just desperate for more pleasure.

"And you say I am cruel." He breathed out. Only able to watch. Twitching in your grasp. Your pleasure was his, seeing you so desperate made his head spin.

"Please keep talking...."

You whimpered out. Nuzzling your face into his hand, using your free hand to keep it close. Seeking out more of his warmth.

He was not as cruel as you think. More than happy to guide you to your orgasm. After all, was that not his job? To help those who appear in his realm, seeking out their dreams.

"So desperate, chasing pleasure only I can give you."

His voice was consuming your brain. It was so soft yet so loud. Rattling in your head like thunder but feeling as gentle as rain. It was as rich as the chocolate you ate earlier. It was one of the things you loved so much about him. Ever since you heard it in your dreams you were always seeking it out. To hear every emotion he could muster.

And that needy breathless tone he was using now? Oh - it made your whole body burn up.

"I can feel how wet you are, completely covering me in your arousal, my love, I bet you'd feel so good clenching around me, do you want that? To no longer feel so empty?"

You nodded, feverishly jerking the head of his cock as you kept bouncing. Unable to reach the spike you needed. You couldn't bring yourself to stop. Too lost in the aggravating slow build of it all. It felt so good yet wasn't enough but you couldn't bare to strip yourself away from this pleasure.

"Morpheus, please fuck me, claim me all over again - I need you-!"

He bucked into your grip. Grabbing your chin as he pulled your face down. Forcing you to stare into his eyes.

"Keep begging for me like that, you sound so sweet."

"Please Dream, please my love, I'm already yours so just take me-! You feel so good- please! Fuck me." You let out a sharp shaky breath as you tried to muster your words. "Fuck me until I can't walk, be good for me, you're always my good boy- please-"

He let out a stuttered groan as he suddenly came. His cum spilling all over your hand as his back hit the ground once again. You gasped as you clenched the head of his cock.

Morpheus grabbed your hips, rolling you both over, aligning your sexes together as he glared down at you.

"I'm going to ravish you."

You didn't even get to say a word. He slowly thrusted in, letting out a soft moan. Shocked at how easily he was able to slid in. Bottoming out instantly as he did one rough thrust. You wrapped your legs around his hips, trying to keep him as close as possible.

Dream couldn't keep his hands off you. Grabbing at your body as he fucked into you. Your hands turning into fists either side your head, tugging and pulling at the grass below. Your lover desperately trying to ground himself as he lost himself in the feel of your warmth. Feeling every twitch and clench. The lewd squelching that came from between your bodies. It was all too much.

His hands finding their way to your chest, holding you just under your armpits as his thumbs rolled your nipples. Your body was glistening under the sun, still sticky with honey. Just as quick as they came, they were gone. His hands back on your hips as he kept you steady. You pawed at his hands and dream happily took them. Your fingers threaded together as he pounded into you.

You clenched as he hit that certain spot. He knew your body all too well. Knowing exactly how to make you see stars.

One of his hands left yours and moved to your clit. Rolling it in tight circles as he puffed out his chest. His head bowing as he let out a strangled cry. Your walls clenching around him more as your pleasure rose.

"So warm.... hugging me so tight- That's it, feels so good when I touch you here, doesn't it?"

You nodded. "Feels....so...good." Drool was now on the corner of your lips. Eyes wet from how intense everything felt. Your mind was going blank as speaking became a challenge.

Each thrust hitting exactly where you needed. His thumb working you up. That peak coming into your mind's eye as he rolled faster. Adding more pressure. Your eyes rolling back as you screamed. Unable to keep yourself to the ground as your back was stuck arched.

With your free hand you pulled him down by the neck. Grabbing a large chunk of dream's hair as your mouths crashed together. Swallowing each others noises as he kept his brutal pace. You could feel it; he was close too. You needed to cum with him.

Dream felt dizzy. Clenching your hand tight. You felt too good- sometimes he wondered if you were real. So perfect for him. Everytime you two delved into this ocean of pleasure he found himself reluctant to swim. Wanting to drown in every fibre of your being. You were his anchor and hardest temptation.

You were practically choking his cock. Even as his tongue pushed into your mouth you were loud. He could hear every gasp, moan and hitch. What has he done to deserve such a wonderful lover?

Morpheus couldn't keep himself together much longer. Feeling his release dangle Infront of him. His thrusts becoming sloppy as you mewled and whined. Knowing you were hanging on just like him.

Your legs wrapped around him tighter, pushing his hips forward. Wanting him just as desperately as he wanted you. Dream finally parted the kiss. Burying his face in your shoulder as he let out a loud moan. Slamming himself into you as your walls twitched. He trembled as small gasps of air left him. Little whines threading through them as he came.

The sheer force drove you over the edge. Milking every last drop out of him as your orgasm hit you. You hugged him tight as your hands pulled at his hair.

You both panted as your hearts slowly went back to their normal pace. He stayed buried inside you as he slumped. Laying ontop of you as you kept him in a tight hug like a koala. Your fingers now weaving through his hair. Soothing the dull ache he felt in the back of his head. He hummed as he let his muscles completely melt.

"That.....was amazing." You beamed. Nuzzling your face into the mop of darkness on his head.

"You were just as spectacular as always, my love." He kissed your neck. Morpheus mused. His voice somehow becoming even deeper. You let out a small laugh as you kissed his head. Thanking him for his kind words.

"Are you feeling okay? Was it too much?"

"No, it was perfect - what about you? How are you feeling?"

"Just as content." He hummed.

With that you smiled. Letting your eyes flutter, enjoying having him so close. The world blurring as you closed your eyes. Embracing the blanket of heat the sun gave the two of you. This was better than any dream you could think of.

#the sandman #morpheus #the sandman morpheus #dream #sandman dream #the sandman dream #dream x male reader #dream x fem!reader #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #morpheus headcanons #the sandman imagine #the sandman headcanons #nsft #the sandman smut #smut #afab reader

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withoutyouimsaskia · 6 months

Text

Don't Stop (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Smut. You and Morpheus are in the exploratory stages of your relationship. Morpheus asks to worship you, and all is going well. At least, that is, until you start to wake up...

Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut. Porn with plot. Kissing. Oral sex (AFAB receiving). Slight dominant Morpheus.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: So I watched Sweetbitter. With my partner. Maybe not the best idea because suppressing the squeaks of excitement whenever Tom came on screen was tough and not always 100% effective! The hyper fixation is still going strong... Hope you enjoy this one. All my love, Saskia xxx

Sandman Masterlist

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It is only when the violent spinning not only stops but holds for several minutes after, does Morpheus make steps in allowing his guard to drop.

He straightens elegantly out of his crouching position, withdrawing his hands from the scree smattered earth. He looks to his left, to Lucienne, who is warily regarding the ground and sky, wondering if they might start to rapidly switch places again.

She meets Morpheus' gaze and adjusts her round-framed spectacles with a steady hand.

"I might be speaking too soon, sir, but I truly think it is over now."

Morpheus takes one last steely appraisal of the horizon, almost daring it to misbehave.

He nods once. "I believe you are correct, Lucienne."

"Will you be requiring anything else from me, my lord?"

"Not at present."

"Very well," Lucienne replies with a warm smile. "I will return to the palace now."

She does a little incline of the head in deference and goes to start the winding walk back towards the glowing lights of the Dreaming's seat of power.

Morpheus calls to his friend.

"I thank you for your persistence in supporting me to resolve these issues. I suggest you take some extra hours to rest."

"I suggest you do the same, sir."

Though her reply is innocuous, the knowing gleam in Lucienne's brown eyes hints at an alternative interpretation, one that Morpheus cannot help but notice.

It was becoming generally well known that he was in the early stages of courtship with a dreamer, you, and there was no doubt that Lucienne was aware of how far the relationship with you had recently gone.

He raises an eyebrow in response, earning a grin from Lucienne and then he watches her walk away.

Once alone, Morpheus allows his eyes to flutter closed as he sifts through the myriad of dormant minds and tunes into the space occupied by yours. He takes a reading of your emotions, thankful to find that you are contented and have not been rendered feeling neglected by his absence.

There's a faint undercurrent lingering below the surface level of your emotions that he is also able to lock on to given the familiarity that you share.

Desire.

They are present, filling you with neediness and longing.

A longing to be touched, to be touched by him.

Morpheus is with you in seconds, appearing in the doorway of the room you have chosen to conceal yourself in.

You are curled up in a large armchair by a panoramic window that frames the mountainous vista beyond. The torches that mark equidistant points along the bridge leading to the palace project a soft gleaming warmth over your skin. You are gazing softly at the landscape, the fingertips of one hand combing through your hair, the others trailing up and down your inner thigh.

Such an innocent yet provocative display. It makes Morpheus' voice drop to an even deeper and more sultry register than usual as he calls to you.

You are out of the chair instantly, meeting him at the threshold of the room. Your heart pumps out an allegro drum beat, the sound of the blood rushing in your ears like a waterfall.

You are pulled into a searing kiss, arms encircle your waist to ensure you are flush against his hips and chest. It is a relief that he is holding you in such a way for your knees are threatening to give out within seconds.

The power he has, in his body, his actions, through his words, in a metaphysical sense; you are helpless against them all.

When Morpheus pulls away from the kiss, you follow him on instinct, aching for more. He smiles faintly at your eagerness but maintains the gap in order to explain his length of absence.

"I must apologise, Y/N. The issue was a little more complex than Lucienne and I had anticipated."

He's looking down with a tint of shame in his aquamarine eyes.

You slide your hands up his forearms, gripping tightly and angling your head so you can capture his gaze.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. Your work and the safety of your dreamers take priority."

He simply nods. Your unwavering understanding is always on the side of overwhelming for him.

You register this in his stance.

"You feel a little tense. I can help with that if you want. Like I did last night?"

You move a hand up to stroke the hair on the back of his head. It is a form of touch that never fails to release tension.

Morpheus indulges in your attentions for a bit, leaning into you and sighing deeply, before staring at you directly with sudden seriousness.

"I cannot deny that what you did for me yesterday was beyond exquisite," He leans in to speak by your ear. "But it is my turn to worship you."

"Oh," you swallow down your surprise. "Okay."

Morpheus wastes no time in guiding you back towards the armchair and sits you on the very edge of the seat pad.

He carefully removes his long sweeping coat and then drops to his knees before you.

His rosy lips are parted, eyes dark pools, both standing out against his beautifully pale skin.

"Where can I touch you?" He asks urgently.

"Everywhere," you reply as the flutterings in your stomach warble your voice.

He begins by trailing his hands up your legs. The patterns he draws are intricate and intoxicating.

"May I have the honour of tasting you?"

"Yes," you consent, breathless already.

You remove your trousers and underwear in the same movement and allow Morpheus to adjust your position.

The image of him looking up at you with lust and intent as he parts your legs is immediately imprinted deep within your memories.

He trails innocent kisses up your left calf to your knee. A long-fingered hand is hooked under it and once Morpheus slips your leg over his shoulder, he continues his path along your inner thigh.

Wisps of his midnight hair tickle your skin and make you squirm in the most delicious way. You whimper when you feel his cool breath hit your pulsing core.

Morpheus speaks your name reverently, a taster of what was about to come.

He leans in the last few inches and kisses your vulva. You melt with an ecstasy-filled exhale. His tongue gently licks at your labia, encouraging them to part and expose your clit. He laps at you with precise strokes before sealing his mouth over the nub.

It's like a direct current has been shot into your body; you jolt into him, moaning his name with abandon.

He hums against you, lips curling into a naughty smirk. You are completely at his mercy and he knows it all too well.

He manipulates your clit between his plush lips and the pleasure reaches a higher ground.

"Whatever you do, please don't stop," you beg.

Morpheus obeys, slowly increasing and decreasing the pressure of his suckling until you are almost unable to think clearly anymore.

Then, suddenly, you are distracted by a strange feeling radiating through your body. You recognise it with immediacy. It's like you are being dragged upwards by a marionette string. You are waking up.

You stiffen, falling silent, hoping above all hope that if you stay still, you can stave off the pull back to consciousness.

Morpheus, noticing your change in demeanour, stops his attentions and pulls away.

He speaks your name in a caring tone, "Are you alright?"

You grab the arm rests in a further attempt to keep yourself in the Dreaming. The sensation isn't letting up.

You respond with haste, "I think I'm waking up. I don't think I can stop it."

Waking had been the cause of cutting short your time with Morpheus many times before. It was to be expected; you were a human being with things like sunlight and birdsong and routines to contend with. The worst had been mid-way through a conversation, one that you were able to pick up again the next time you passed the Dreaming threshold.

Right here while Morpheus was working on you so perfectly, however left you with one thought: Why did it have to be now?

Your surroundings flicker and all sound becomes warped. The support of Morpheus' body and the chair vanish.

"I'm sorry." They are the last words you speak before you disappear.

You come to in the semi-darkness of your bedroom. Your chest is heaving and wetness has spilled onto your pyjamas from the dream of Morpheus lavishing your aroused core.

Your phone is blasting out a morning alarm, its shrillness the clear root of you disappearing on him.

It turns out though, initially unknown to you, that Morpheus was having none of this separation business. That is until you notice him sitting between your splayed legs.

"Morpheus?! What are you -"

"You asked me not to stop, my dearest dreamer," he interrupts, pouring every ounce of seductive energy into the words as he can muster.

Morpheus' eyes bore into yours as he climbs up to fully straddle your body. He reaches over you to turn off the alarm with a precise tap on the screen of your phone. He takes a deep breath.

"Much better," he purrs. The pitch of his voice is pleasure enough on its own, even without the fact that his hips are subtly grinding against yours.

"Now, would you like to resume with what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted by that repugnant tone?"

You nod.

"Verbal consent, please."

It's suddenly so hard to speak now he is in your bedroom, your domain. You hope that a clear display will be an acceptable alternative. You reach your hands down to rid yourself of your pyjamas only to have each wrist pinned either side of your head.

You gasp.

"I need to hear you say it out loud, Y/N."

Another wave of hot, stifling arousal is released between your legs. You shiver in reaction to it, to his dominance.

Your mouth is open but no coherent words leave it, just the starts of failed sentences. Morpheus comes to your aid:

"Will you allow me to taste you here, in the waking world, just as I did in my own realm?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Morpheus. Please. Put your mouth on me."

He hums his approval before lowering your shorts and beginning to feast on you once more.

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Tag List: @herfantasyworldd @shadowqueen1318

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diorcities · 1 year

Text

bunny

previous. part one .next.

pairing: park jisung x afab!reader genre: smut, dark academia. content: virginity, corruption kink, hand job, oral fixation, nipple play, female masturbation. wc: 2k.

description: this academy is full of secrets, as much as it is full of bunnies. hairy and docile ones, and harmful and evil as well. you've never been able to belong to their little group of worship for jisung. they don't know. they simply don't know, that you would do anything for him. whatever it is he desires.

the sun passing between the branches of the willow tree where your body lay made funny figures on your skin. the temperature was ideal to lie down in the garden of the academy between classes, being customary for students to eat or study. you preferred to sleep.

you read for a while one of those boring books that made you sleepy, and when it was the perfect moment, you fell into the arms of morpheus, like a rock. for that reason, you missed the second class that afternoon.

you got up lazily resting your back on the base of the trunk, moving the open book away from your face. your gaze wandered around the enclosure; made up of victorian structures and ruins. the academy was thirty minutes from the next civilization, surrounded by lush forests and mountainous landscapes. in spring, squirrels and rabbits wandered through the green areas, and the trees showed their greenest leaves. in winter, the panorama consisted of temperatures close to negative degrees, trees with bony branches and meters and meters of snow.

you didn't like spring very much, and obviously, winter neither. you used to think that the middle of the two seasons was the best, after summer vacation, fall was by far the best season.

after pondering for what you thought were hours, you decided to face what was surely going to be a comeuppance. however, you were willing, more than willing, waiting. as you headed to the room for your next class, you didn't notice that your uniform had gotten mud on it from lying on the grass.

bunny noticed. with her delicate hands, she covers her mouth while she laughs without much disguise. “look who we have here." her entourage was supporting. “yn” other bunny mentions, disgusted. unintentionally, and because you really didn't feel like avoiding them, you let them surround you. “ugh, is that... mud?” bunny covered her nose under your piercing gaze. if it affected her, she showed no signs of it. bunny clicks her tongue, “did you fall down a rabbit hole?” she asks herself, “or maybe, you're used to being on the ground.” her hands travel to your chest, pushing hard. her entourage opens like a door and reveals the floor. you fall with a crash, causing laughter from the bunnies, who, one by one, file off. their laughter stretches down the desolate corridor until they're lost. with parsimony, you manage to compose yourself and go to your next class.

twilight looms on the horizon as you enter the tunnel connecting the tower to the central building, the shadows lengthen and shrink as you proceed through the endless corridor. cold hits your body, hearing only the sound of your shoes on the stone floor, expanding into echoes.

your footsteps stop abruptly, and your muscles tense under your skin, as your eyes study the small, static figure a few feet from you. pearly fur shimmering in the moonlight. with floppy ears like small braids and eyes as black as abysses, they observe you while their nose moves, sniffing.

it lets you hold it when you pick it up off the ground. the fur is even softer than you thought. its frail and petite figure. heart under its ribcage pounding under your hand, placed on the area. “we had a dissection class the other day,” you narrate, reversing your steps. “we stuff bunnies.” your footsteps replace the stone floor with dirt and grass as you walk away from the tunnel and into the forest. your nose approaches the fur, inhaling gently. “what a beautiful fur,” you murmur in a high-pitched voice. your lips leave a small kiss on the rodent before depositing it on the ground. “now go away, little friend,” you say, waving your hand, but the rabbit remains where you left it. “boo!,” you exclaim, then. and that's when the rabbit leaves.

your heels turn to return to the shelter of the tunnel when your eyes catch a shadow looming over you. the feeble light from the street lamps in the courtyard barely illuminates his face; outlines his figure with a halo of orange light. “did i scare you?,” he wants to know. you shake your head. you can feel him smile even when darkness engulfs him. “we're late for class,” he announces, looking at the sunset, yet your eyes remain on him. “i need to clean my skirt,” you mumble in a low voice. his smile widens. “need help?”.

you feel him lurking behind your back, at a prudent distance. walking through the dark tunnel, only listening to the sound of his footsteps in time with yours. in a corner, you walk up the stairs to the second floor, feeling your skirt rise slightly. jisung laughs lightly but doesn't say anything else. he follows you to the bathrooms, closing the door behind him. seeing him study you through the mirror, his gaze fixed on the dark stain on your skirt. your hands go to the waistband of the fabric, lowering it to your ankles, as you stay only in your underwear.

you feel the warmth of his body as he approaches, his arm encircling your body to the front, the sudden proximity making you catch your breath. his warm breath hitting your ear.

his hands brush yours as he takes the fabric from your grasp, and without saying anything, he walks away to the sink. you watch him rolls his shirt up a few inches, exposing his forearms. his veins bulge as he turns on the faucet and begins to wash the mud off. “how did you get mud on your skirt, anyway?” he asks, breaking the silence. “from the garden,” you reply.

jisung hums, turning off the faucet when his chore is done. his body leans against the sink, holding out his skirt to you, waiting for you to take it. your body instantly approaches him, under a spell. he watches you intently as you dress, his eyes shifting between your breasts and your face; it's impossible not to look back at him. “thank you,” you say. “no problem.” his lips stretch into a lazy smile. “you… do you need help with something?” you see him deny “nothing that requires your help, kitten.”

he stands up from the sink, towering over you. you have to look up to meet his eyes again. “tell me what it is,” you demand to know, cutting him off. “why?” he asks. “i want to help,” you reply, “i want to help you.” where did this wish come from? you couldn't know it, but it burned your chest. just thinking about letting him go made your body writhe in sharp pain. you wanted to help him, you wanted to please him. there was nothing in this world you wanted more than to make him happy.

“what are you willing to do to help me?”

“anything.”

when he smiles, the burning in your chest turns into a warm feeling. his hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek. slides down to your jaw and rests there as his thumb rests on your lower lip. “open up,” he asks. your lips part to let him in, his finger resting on your flat tongue, before curling it around. instinctively, you begin to suck on his finger. teeth scraping lightly, tongue wrapping and moving. “pretty,” jisung whispers before a throat clearing attacks him. his pink lips part slightly in concentration, his gaze darkening at the sight of your mouth taking his thumb so well.

your hands go to his chest, moving up and down with difficulty, before sliding down. they rest gently on his abdomen. “do you really want to help me?” he asks again, and you nod multiple times. yes, yes, yes, as you resume your way to his crotch. a hard bulge under your warm palm. your thumb strokes the prominent surface, catching his muscles tense. his body falls back into the sink, your body overlapping his as your palm presses over his erection. your tongue takes care in the movements it makes on his finger, while you give it a few strokes on his length. your fingers going to the zipper of his navy blue pants. “do you want to touch it?” he wants to know, and you nod again.

his thumb is withdrawn from your mouth, and you miss him immediately. you unbutton his pants and pull them down, just enough to see his underwear. your fingers go to the waistband, lowering the fabric, and freeing his cock, long and veined. tip is flushed. a small spasm attacks it, and it seems to you the most beautiful thing in the world.

your hand wraps around him, feeling hard and heavy. his soft skin stretches as you begin to pat him. jisung lets out a low breath. your eyes stray from the length of his to see his pretty face twitch. frown and parted lips. you move your hand up and down, while the other finds its way to the base, palm down.

his hands go up your body, unbuttoning your shirt and revealing your bra. it's old-fashioned and without a cup, which reveals your bristling nipples. jisung brushes his thumb around one of them. an electric current expands from the place where he touches you. you let out a hoarse moan as his fingers squeeze the sensitive area. back arches unintentionally. your hand begins to move faster on his cock. a growl attacks him, burying his face in the valley of your breasts.

you feel his dick pulsing under your hand, warm and soft. you milk it, curling your fingers at the tip, making movements from top to bottom while giving small touches with your thumb. jisung stirs under your touch, in a labored gasp. a few more stabbed thrusts were enough for him to spill his warm semen in your hand. hot and thick. your mouth begins to salivate at the sight of the pearl liquid pouring out of its pink tip.

“you want a taste?” he asks when he sees the place where your gaze is fixed. bringing his index finger into the liquid after you nod, moves it closer to your already open lips to receive his seed. you savor the sweet taste of him, cleaning his finger with your tongue. “turn around,” he orders, giving you no time to react and moving you himself. positioning behind you, both facing the mirror.

his hand goes around you to wipe away the remaining cum that remains on your hand, and when he's done, his hand slides down your belly and out of the mirror reflection, under your skirt and resting on the waistband of your clothes inside. “did you get wet, kitten?” he asks as he feels your breathing ragged as his fingers finally insert themselves under the fabric and brush against your pussy. “just a few strokes on my cock and you're already dripping?”.

his fingers slide through your folds and through your silky arousal. your face twitches as he finds your clit and starts moving his fingers in circles. your mouth opens to let out small, low moans, while your hips move to the beat of his fingers, wanting more friction. his body presses against yours, holding you against the sink and his chest. his movements become deeper and more agile as he massages your clit. your walls clinging and clenching to nothing, legs tightening around his hand. your wishes finally being heard by jisung, lowering his fingers between your folds towards your entrance. his fingers dig into your cunt, and a whiplash of sharp pain accompanies them.

jisung removes his fingers quickly, causing a plaintive gasp to escape your lips. his strong grip turns you on your axis, now facing him. “are you virgin?” it takes you a few seconds to string together what he says. jisung teases you, “answer me.” you bite the inside of your cheeks and nod.

jisung clicks his tongue, disapprovingly. you watch him lose himself in his thoughts, sinking deeper into worry the moment he realize something you totally miss. a few seconds later, he shakes his head and looks at you. “i'm so sorry,” he says, looking embarrassed, “but i'm afraid we have to stop.”

“but-,”

“no.”

“please,” you beg. “jisung, please.” your hands make fists in his white shirt. his hands grab your wrists, but he doesn't pull them away. “god, do you want me to fuck you so much?” he questions, raising his eyebrows expectantly. you soak your lips under his gaze. yes. you wanted him to destroy you completely, to use your body at his whim just like now, to take you so hard you could barely walk the next day. you crave, fervently to see his naked body covered in sweat while he fucks you or one of his bunnies, you don't care. but instead of telling him that, you just nod, hoping he can see between the lines. however, jisung puts pressure on your wrists. “say it.”

“yes, jisung.”

he smiles, before leaning over you and bringing his mouth closer to your ear.

“you'll have to do something for me first, then.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #jisung smut #nct dream jisung smut #park jisung smut #♡jisung

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dotieeee · 8 months

Text

A Small Token of Devotion

Part 3 of A Small Act of Kindness

A DARK three-shot

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x you, afab reader

Warnings: dark!Morpheus, obsessive behaviour, dark!Dream won't take 'no' for an answer, disturbing themes like kidnapping, imprisonment, isolation, psychological torture, non-con/dub-con kissing and touching etc, 18+ only!! Please read: this has DUB-CON with NON-CON elements, read at your own risk :), rough smutty SMUT, probably the filthiest I have ever written,

Inspired by this ask for @roguelov See: https://www.tumblr.com/roguelov/721739134130143232/this-isnt-smut-but-dream-has-strong-miette?source=share

Officially now a three-part series!!! Masterlist here

Part 1: Click here

Part 2: Click here

Summary: You're still being held against your will by the King Of Dreams, who offers you a deal that you find too good to be true, but are too desperate to refuse.

Breakfast was surprisingly peaceful. After the kiss Dream had stolen in that hallway, he had kept his hands to himself and was seemingly content with watching you eat. And, boy, did you pack it in. You were never hungry while he kept you in your prison, but you had missed it so much that you abandoned all inhibition and ate almost everything within your reach. Fuck if he was observing every move you made – the food was unlike anything you've tasted, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Morpheus had escorted you by the hand to the library after, where you were formally introduced to Lucienne, his librarian, who was gracious enough to show you around. He had to leave you in her care while he went away for his duties, and with that, you couldn't be happier – any time away from him was a much-needed respite. Like a madman, you combed through the shelves for your parents' books once Lucienne explained that every dreamer to have existed had one that recorded their dreams. You came up empty-handed, however, so you decided to enlist her help.

"I'm afraid Lord Morpheus has forbidden you access to those books, my lady," she said, eyeing you empathically. "He has not divulged the reason, but it is likely to protect you."

Or likely to sever your connection to the Waking World even further.

You were put out by this, of course. You've been missing your parents terribly since you moved out, even more worried now that they probably realised you'd gone missing for who knows how long. But you weren't about to squander this rare instance of being out of your enclosure by moping. Instead, you found the softest, most comfortable couch in the library and continued reading The Wrongs of a Woman, determined to enjoy this new-found – and possibly short-lived – freedom. You had gone through four chapters, however, but you couldn't seem to concentrate, so you put down the book, thinking it deserved more than a half-hearted reading. You had a plethora of human knowledge at your disposal, and all you could think of was him.

He’d be more than pleased if he’d ever find out.

But Morpheus was away, so if you could learn more about him and his nature, maybe you’d be able to somehow use that to your advantage, eventually. Lucienne was happy to lead you to a rather thin, small leatherbound book that contained knowledge of the Endless, written by a man who was once immortal, which in turn, led you to discover that there were actual immortal humans roaming the earth, and some are friendly with them and the lesser gods. Was Professor Gadling one of them? It wouldn't be too far-fetched, given he had addressed Morpheus by his name and had referred to him as a friend. If you weren't in such distress caused by him, you'd probably be having an existential crisis.

Instead, you had a different crisis at hand, and one in the form of an Endless whose powers you have yet to fully comprehend. You didn't even sit down; right before the bookshelf you plucked the book from, you dug into it at once.

You discovered that there were seven Endless siblings – anthropomorphic personifications – who governed their own realms: Destiny in his garden, Death in her Sunless Lands, Desire in their Threshold and their twin, Despair in her grey Room of Mirrors, and their youngest, Delirium in her realm Formless Chaos. Your interest was piqued further once you got back to the part of Dream of the Endless. While it was rather sparse, the unknown author did his best to jot down the Endless' powers, including crafting dreams, fantasies, and nightmares, and manipulating reality to an extent. The Endless kept endless secrets, it seemed, which was a wonder that the author had that much to write about and put in a book. According to the book, Morpheus went by so many names throughout the passage of time.

"'The Prince of Stories,' huh…" you muttered to yourself. Maybe that was why he appreciated your writing.

"I'm quite flattered you are trying to get to know me, my beloved, but you could've just asked."

The amused voice made you turn on your heels, only to come face to face with the Endless himself looking down on you with a teasing grin merely inches away from you. You did your best to keep your cheeks from heating up at the closeness and stared at a spot on his collar instead.

"Sorry," you muttered. "It's just…it's a nice moniker."

"Is it?" He dipped his head lower, hovering over your ears, and whispered languidly, "Then, would you allow this prince's mouth to carve stories on your skin?"

To prevent any thoughts of getting away, he placed his hands firmly on the shelf behind you and trapped you between his arms. You stood perfectly still, but you shivered visibly when one of his hands started stroking your spine and the laced ribbon at the back of your dress. Those lips then ghosted over your neck.

"We have been apart for not more than half a day and I already miss you," he whispered in the most dulcet of tones against your skin, leaving goosebumps all over your arm. "Surely you know how you have bewitched me, and I am nothing short of spellbound…"

Then he growled just as those lips touched your skin. You haven't done anything wrong!

"Forgive me, my beloved, I am being called somewhere else." He said as he pulled away. You could tell by his furrowed brows and curled lip that he was annoyed at the interruption. "You are to stay here in the library until I come and fetch you. I need not warn you: any attempt to escape is futile and will be dealt with harshly."

You managed to let out the breath you were holding in when he disappeared with his sand. You could see from the windows that the sky had darkened, immediately followed by a resounding clap of thunder. Despite his threat, you were extremely grateful to anyone and anything that called him at that very moment, even if that meant they would be facing an irate King in the process. Besides, where else did he think you'd escape to?

***

Dream had been fuming when he arrived at the disturbance. His foul mood had inadvertently summoned a thunderstorm that flooded the basements of half the townsfolk in the process, which exacerbated the issue he had been called for: a farmer had poured an entire vat of untested growth potion on a pumpkin patch, which grew at an alarming rate the moment the brew hit the soil. The heavy rains that the thunderstorm had brought made the plant even happier, which in turn started to produce elephant-sized pumpkins within seconds. Dream had to reel in his emotions to prevent these giant pumpkins from taking over fourteen acres of land, which took a great amount of his time. By the time the situation had been under control, Dream was soaking wet, positively irked, and achingly longing to be back with you. The farmer and the owner of the apothecary who had sold the potion had to endure quite an earful from him, and they deserved every venomous word of it, for taking his time away from you.

It was dark when Morpheus reappeared at the library. Had you gone off to sleep without him? The thought made his heart sink; he had not meant to threaten you just before he left, although he admittedly would punish you if you dared wander off with the intention of running away from him – he could not have that, of course. He scoured the library shelves for you, already fearing the worst, but just as his anger started resurfacing, he found a sight that immediately calmed his inner turmoil:

There you were, on a couch just beside the spot where he had left you earlier, fast asleep with a book spread on your chest.

You had waited for him.

Slowly he made his approach, careful not to rouse you, and softly kissed your forehead. He took the book from your grasp, surprised that it was the same book he had caught you reading. You were reading about him, and that elated him to no end, even if it was a little dampened at the fact that he found the book opened on the page about his golden-eyed, meddlesome little sibling. He tossed the book to the table, then proceeded to carry you like his bride (and he knows you will be, very soon) to his bedroom, and laid you on the soft silken sheets that covered his bed. You had not stirred the entire time, perhaps savouring the only soft surface you had laid on since your stay in his realm. He decided he liked the look of you laying on your side, curled up on his bed very much.

You needed to accept him soon so he could have you on it anytime he pleased.

On impulse, Morpheus went inside your head and combed through every single memory you had. He was only getting to know you further, just like what you did reading the book that contained knowledge of him. You were eventually going to be his wife, and what kind of husband would he be if he did not make an effort to familiarise himself with his future bride's innermost thoughts and desires?

Satisfied with what he witnessed, Dream sighed in relief as he gently laid down beside you. He was tired – of course, he needed to rest, and it was his bed. He craved warmth, too, and your body just happened to be a great source of it, so he drew closer to you, his chest touching your back, and snaked an arm from behind you, wrapping it around your sleeping form. He dared not close his eyes, for he feared you would tear away from him as soon as he did. There, he laid still, perfectly content, for hours.

There was nowhere else he would rather be.

***

The first thing you became aware of when you came to wasn't the softness of the bed you were laying on, but an unyielding arm around your waist and a firm body pressed snugly against your back, purring happily like a large cat.

He seemed to notice that you'd woken up too, for he started dragging his nose from your head to your hair and inhaling your scent deeply. Recognizing how precarious your situation was, you tried to even your breathing out and pretend you were still sleeping, silently praying to anyone who would listen that he buys the act and loses interest.

Then that damn hand moved slowly downwards, then started hiking up your dress all the way to your thighs.

No such luck.

Still, you had to try. You held up pretty well, even as he turned you on your back and proceeded to straddle your hips. You tried your best not to twitch while he gripped your chin to turn your head to the side and a hot tongue licked your cheek. You squirmed slightly just as his mouth found your pulse point and sucked your skin heavily. You whimpered a little while he dragged his hands all over your still-clothed body and you felt him shift slightly.

But you drew a line when you felt him part your legs and settle between them.

You opened your eyes with a startled yelp and flailed your arms wildly, hitting his chest, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, deep chuckling as he did so.

"I see you have decided to forgo the act, my little saviour. As impressive as it was, I could hear and feel your heartbeat. You could never fool me."

You look up to those intense, dark blue eyes and those lips, curled upward in a malicious grin. True enough, your heart was racing and your breathing had quickened, but you tried your hardest to wrench your hands from his grip. It didn't work.

"Please, g-get o-off me…" you started begging.

But Dream merely hummed as his body inched closer to yours. Your terror only amplified when you felt something hard brush over the mound between your legs. You were still clothed, thank goodness, but your dress had been dragged so far up your legs you could feel the cold air on your inner thighs. Egged on by how you reacted, his hips pushed further against you, and you watched his eyes shift into black for a split second before they became blue again.

Of course, the bastard was enjoying this.

As deeply disturbed as you were, you felt a hot wetness gush between your legs, and you started to ache the slightest. And judging by his widened smirk, he knew.

"Do you find me unattractive?" He asked.

"What?" You were a bit surprised by how casual his tone was. "No, of course, you're…aesthetically pleasing… "

"Then why do you refuse me so?"

"I just don't want to, okay?" You burst out. "I don't have to justify my choice, least of all to you. Now, please!"

Halting his movement altogether, he donned a look of contemplation. "Have you laid with anyone?"

A blush started creeping up your cheeks at his question, so you pointedly avoided his stare. "Why the hell would I tell you that?!"

He tutted and said, "My little saviour, this is an open conversation that lovers usually partake in prior to being intimate." He firmly gripped your chin to turn your head and force you to look at him, his expression now serious.

"Now I ask again: has anyone laid claim on you?"

You gave a small nod, next thing you knew was a firm hand around your throat, squeezing it just enough to make you start gasping for air.

"You lie." Dream's eyes were blazing and his teeth were bared in a furious snarl.

He was right – you had lied on impulse. To your defence, you did it only in the hopes of him being disgusted that you weren't as pure as he thought. The truth was, while you had the occasional fling here and there, none of them ever progressed to anything sexual. And he knew, for some reason. You couldn't get his hand off your throat, for he still had yours pinned above your head.

"Morpheus, please…" you choked.

He said through gritted teeth, "Lie to me again and I will personally torment every single one of your past flames with nightmares until their death."

Tears started to stream through your eyes, and it was getting more difficult to say a single word as you struggled to breathe.

"Please…I-I'm s-sorry…" you managed to let out.

You gulped greedily for air as soon as he eased the pressure, but his hand remained around your neck, and it was evident that he was still unappeased. You didn't give a damn, however; you were now crying in earnest and genuinely frightened of him even more so than the nightmare you'd seen him transform into.

"I know everything about you. I combed through every thought, every repressed memory, every dream and every nightmare."

Then, what was the point of asking, you thought. You could've said it aloud too, but you were far too scared out of your wits to even stop your tears from flowing freely.

He must've acknowledged your distress, for he slowly released your throat and gently wiped your cheek with his finger.

"I am already aware of your purity. I merely asked because I trusted you enough to tell me the truth, as lovers should," he said softly as he continued stroking your cheek, perhaps to ease your discomfort.

"Fuck you, we're not lovers," you summoned the courage to whisper as your sobs died down. Fear was overtaken by irrational anger – you were fed up with his bullshit. You looked him in the eye with all the disdain you could muster as you whispered, "You think I could love you when you keep torturing me just so you could have your way? I will never accept you."

And honestly, you didn't know what scared you more: the nightmarish being with madness contorted in its features, or the stoic, oddly-calm Nightmare King pinning you down with eyes you could no longer read.

"Still as obstinate as ever, I see."

In a swift move, he removed himself from you and vanished. Before you could relish the freedom, you sat up when you felt grains of sand cloud your vision, and your entire surroundings faded to black. Within seconds, there was nothing more you could see, and everything was enveloped in darkness, including the bed you were on.

You simply floated in the vast nothingness.

"Allow me to remind you, my little saviour: I am the King of Dreams, and you are my prisoner." Your captor's voice echoed all around you, sending waves of panic through every cell in your body. Even the darkness paled in comparison to the fear his voice instilled.

"I have been patient, yet you insist on defying me. Perhaps, a reminder is due. It is time I showed you torture."

Then began the fall.

You fell into the endless darkness, unable to scream nor break the descent. You fell at an increasingly faster pace into nothing, weightless, your heart racing and your skin being blasted by the cold. Just when you thought you were going to pass out, you land safely, feet-first, like the fall never happened, and in a place that looked so achingly familiar.

You were in your parents' kitchen.

You have not been in this kitchen in a long time, but it looked as similar as the day you left. It was a bittersweet farewell, that day, you, your mom and dad celebrating your new job and telling each other you'd call and visit whenever you can. On the fridge door, you recognized the drawings being held in place by those little vegetable magnets – you made them when you were little, and since then, they have refused to remove them. They've always been proud of you, they said, as you packed your bags to head for your apartment and live your own life the way you wanted it. You didn't know until then just how much you needed to hear it from them.

A pained sob interrupted your reminiscing. It came from the dining room, so you made your way inside, your footsteps not making a single sound on the hardwood floor.

"Mom? Dad?" You called out.

Your mom sat on the end of the dining table, hunched over and visibly shaking, as your dad sat opposite her and quietly held both her hands. Behind the both of them, hung on the wall, was this large abstract painting you didn't care much about as a child but have grown to like as a teen. It didn't escape your notice that the table was strewn over with papers. You picked one up against your better judgement.

It was a photo of you taken the night you took them out to dinner with your first paycheck. Right on top of your picture were the words, printed in large, bold letters:

'MISSING.'

You put it back down at once, not bothering to read the rest. You were back! Did they not hear you?

Your mom let out a wail that would break anyone's heart. Your dad stood to hold her in his arms. He too, had tears streaming down his face, trying to comfort his wife as he nursed his own grief.

"I-I just w-want my b-baby back," your mom cried out in between sobs as she held onto your dad as if her life depended on it. "My po-oor baby, my sweet little girl, I want her back, Harold. Please, God, bring her back to me…"

"I'm here, I'm back!" You said, louder this time. Perhaps they didn't hear you.

She buried her face in your dad's shirt, and he kissed the top of her head. It did nothing to soothe her.

"We will, Martha, I promise," your dad said softly. "If we have to sell the house to continue finding her, we will. I'll sell everything we have, we'll sleep in the car, it doesn't matter."

Your mom nodded her head and gulped before she replied "I just miss her so much…"

"I do, too, honey. Every damn day.”

“This is my fault. This is all my fault, I let her leave,” your mom rambled on. “I could’ve stopped her, but I didn’t. I failed her –”

“No, you didn’t. If anything, it was my fault. But we will find her, and then we'll apologise, yes?" Your dad cupped our mom's cheeks and brought his forehead to hers. "We'll tell her every minute of every day just how much we miss her, and we'll never let her feel alone or unloved until our last breath, you hear me?"

Your mom managed a nod before she broke once more into agonised tears.

"But, I'm here!" You had tears streaming from your eyes as you screamed. They were falling apart without you, but you were back. You came back!

"I'm right fucking here!" You took a step forward so you could give them both a hug and assure them that you'll never leave their side again, but something in the painting behind them moved, making you halt your steps.

It was a pair of ocean-blue eyes that blinked, now staring into your soul, spanning the width of the entire painting – the last thing you see before the hardwood floor gave out beneath your feet and fell, once more, into the abyss.

You woke up with a start, sitting up almost at once, as you tried to calm your heart's incessant beating and relive the cause: it was a nightmare – one of many – of grief you couldn't understand, followed by an irrational fear of a pair of beautiful, ocean-blue eyes, before you were thrown into a pit of darkness with nothing to break your fall.

It was quite humorous in hindsight, given that you've lived many millennia in the most terrifying place in Creation, and one too, that countless souls dread ending up in the most.

The crackling of Hellfire in your cramped enclosure proved almost comforting, even if it was always so close to licking your skin. It provided almost ample protection against the bitter cold that seemed to seep into your bones, but you have learned to live with the stark contrast both provided. Better than being thrown directly onto the mass of hideous, mangled writhing demons at the pit of Morningstar's court. The cold, you could live with; the torture and the screaming, maybe not so much.

You stood from the jagged surface of the cave just as you felt the air around you shift. It hadn't been caused by that dreadful demon that had just passed your door, but by a powerful presence you had not felt in aeons, and which you’d never thought you’d ever feel again.

True enough, it was him: he walked right before your enclosure adorned with those large, thorny branches trapping you in and sealing your fate:

“Kai’ckul?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes, even after he stopped in his tracks the moment you called for him out loud. You were breathing heavily, now, as you walked up to your barred entrance to get a better look at him.

“Dream Lord?” You called again.

You could not help the gasp you let out the moment he acknowledged your call and faced you. He had the same brown eyes that conveyed a thousand emotions in a single flash, those thick locks you had once caressed with your fingertips, those soft, full lips you had once kissed with all the passion your mortal heart could muster…

“It is you…” you said with awe in your voice. He was just as beautiful as the day he sent you to your eternal damnation.

“I greet you, Nada.” He responded softly with that velvety voice that had once whispered such amorous words in ears the night you both gave in to your earthly desires. Yet, today, it was sombre – melancholic, even. What could have brought him here after so long? Perhaps, you dared hope, he’d come to say he had changed his mind? Has he come to finally release you from your endless torment, like you have dreamed he would for countless cold nights in your prison cell?

“Kai’ckul,” you said, your voice and the tears that brimmed your eyes betraying that little bit of joy that blossomed from seeing him again. Your beautiful king. “How I have prayed for this day. I knew you would come.”

With a doleful expression, he stated, “It pains me to see you like this.”

Does it? “Then, free me, Lord.” Your tears finally fell down your cheeks. All those words you had imagined yourself saying to him, some of them hurtful, some of them outright offensive — all of them erased by the weariness of carrying out his righteous punishment. “Only your forgiveness can free me.”

But he had no response, only a tightening of those lips, his eyes growing more guarded and unyielding.

“Do you not still love me?” You asked. Perhaps if he still did, he would be merciful?

"It has been ten thousand years, Nada."

Yes, it has been. An awfully, excruciatingly long time and a reminder wasn't needed.

"Yes, I still love you."

Hope blossomed in your heart at his words, but it was just as soon dampened by his next.

"But I have not yet forgiven you."

You looked away just as more tears started to flow. Even after those years, his heart was as cold and unrelenting as ever. Yours, however, remained steadfast, despite the continuous onslaught of coldness and hostility he and this place had for you, there was something else that helped keep your sanity and dignity intact.

He began to walk away and commanded his raven to follow. Your grip on your prison bars tightened as you called after him.

"Kai'ckul, I will not give up hope."

But he had gone too far away for you to hear his footfalls.

"I will never give up!" But was that meant for him or for you?

Your voice broke at your statement, and so do the sobs. You sank into the chilly, uneven surface of your enclosure and hugged yourself, seeking some sort of comfort. Your heart refused to be crushed. Ten more millennia could pass, and you'd still have hope that one day, you will walk on soft, warm grass and breathe fresh, sulphur-free air, and you'd travel hand in hand with Death to ferry you to your peace. You'd forgive him wholeheartedly, should he seek it from you. You loved him.

So, how come the moment you closed your eyes to rest, only one foreign thought crossed your mind and reverberated in your heart?

You don't love him and you never will.

***

Dream never tore his onyx eyes away from you when the nightmares began.

He was admittedly livid. You had dared lie to him in the face and once again refused his advances; on top of that, you had dared insinuate that he had hurt you? He would not have it. He could never hurt you, much less torture you – but he also was not above showing you what could happen to you should you go on defying him like so.

He had not meant to show you Nada's predicament, truth be told. It was a last-minute decision, but he had not in his entire Endless life encountered such blatant, insulting refusal. The venomous words you had uttered to him on his bed would have garnered a far more agonising punishment than he had given his former lover, if it had not been for the fact that it was your kindness that had once helped save him from an aimless existence. Your words felt like a slap to his face, sure, but he knew you did not deserve such a cruel sentence.

By the end of the nightmare, you had been writhing on his bed, as if in pain, and crying profusely. You were muttering in your slumber, calling out for your parents in despair. He gradually allowed the effects of the nightmare to wane to let you breathe and he knew you were drifting in and out of sleep, even though you had not realised.

"I'm sorry, Mom and Dad," he heard you whisper, half-awake, clutching the sheets beneath you and weeping softly. "I couldn't be a better daughter. I miss you guys so much. I wish I hadn't moved out so soon…if I stayed, I would still be with you and I wouldn't be here…"

Then you proceeded to toss to your side and curl into a foetal position, hugging your knees in want of comfort.

Dream's heart ached at the sight. How could it not? Despite your continued rejection of him, he truly loved you enough for him to feel your pain on a physical level. Deciding to put an end to your suffering, he approached your trembling body and planted a kiss on your head, and took away with him the effects of the potent nightmare he had given you. He had had enough, and the way your sobbing ceased and your breathing evened out gave him some sort of relief. He then replaced the nightmares with fond memories of your parents and even crafted a dream where you were once more back to your old job, writing what you pleased.

As he sat on the edge of the mattress and stroked your hair, his thoughts drifted to your parents. Although they had raised you the best they could, he could not help but criticise the way they initially pressured you into excellence the moment you showed potential. Not that he was a perfect parent, himself; his own son perished and he had a hand in it somehow. Loathe as he was to admit, your mother and father loved you with all their hearts and had been severely affected by your disappearance. He knew about their tireless efforts of trying to locate you, as futile as it may be. If you had been amenable to a proper courtship and accepted his initial offer, he would've introduced himself to them and formally asked them for your hand, but he brushed that thought aside. There was no point dwelling on what could have been.

You needed rest from the lingering effects of the nightmares. He had no regrets showing you that dream of your parents, even if he hated your reaction to it. Content with the punishment he gave you, he went off to work.

He had a proposal to plan, and a wayward sibling to visit.

***

You were still shaking slightly as you climbed the stairs leading to a balcony far up the castle, just like the note you had found on the nightstand instructed when you woke. It was an after-effect of the nightmares you had last night, you suspected. Your attendant, who was leading you to the designated meeting place, had even taken pity on you and allowed you to wear flats instead of the heels that the dress you were supposed to wear came with. Your legs almost gave way as soon as you arrived and saw him.

Your jailer and tormentor.

Dream of the Endless sat on a round table filled with an assortment of breakfast pastries in a basket, leaning comfortably on his straight-backed wrought-iron chair. His gaze was far away into the view the balcony provided, but his eyes shifted as soon as your attendant announced your arrival.

You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you sat on the only remaining chair, and you could feel those intense blues bore right into your soul. A memory of them blinking on an abstract painting made you shudder inwardly.

"Eat, my beloved," he commanded. "We are to discuss an important matter when you finish."

Your attendant poured coffee into your cup and promptly placed herself inconspicuously on the corner, likely anticipating the needs of her king. Wordlessly, you picked up your cutlery and began to eat, even if you had absolutely no appetite. You picked a danish, purposefully avoiding the baguette on the basket and even giving it a glare like it was its fault you landed in this predicament. Instead tried to enjoy the coffee, which admittedly, was a thousand times better than any coffee you had ever tasted in the Waking. He watched you the entire time, his kingly posture only shifting once you put down your knife and fork and pushed your plate away.

On cue, the attendant took the plates and the bread basket away, leaving your cup of coffee, and disappeared for good. You waited with bated breath for whatever he had to say.

"Next time you wish to cry 'torture,' remember that I have been nothing but gracious and merciful despite your continued defiance."

Ah, so he was still bitter about what you said last night.

"Nada." You blurted out, totally unprompted. Morpheus narrowed his eyes a little at the mention of the name.

"What about her?"

You squirmed in your seat at his biting tone. But he was the one who showed you the dream – you had the right to know.

"What did you do to her?"

"What I refuse to do with you: sentence you to Hell for defying me."

Curt as his response was, it chilled you to the bone. He sent a woman to that horrible place just because she rejected him?

"And my parents?" Your voice almost broke at the question, as memories of them grieving over your disappearance flooded your mind. "Why would you show me all of that?"

"I take it you miss your parents."

"Was that dream real?" You asked, your voice solemn. "Did it…did it really happen?"

"Yes."

They were losing the house just so they could keep searching for you. The thought of them homeless, sleeping on the streets in the bitter cold, made tears gather at the corner of your eyes and spill. You couldn't control them any longer, because you knew, no matter what they did, they would never find you.

"Their determination to find their beloved daughter is admirable. It is such a pity their search is futile," he said, mirroring your thoughts.

Amidst your tears, you shot him a reproachful look at the way he rubbed your mother and father's predicament on your face. You quietly wiped them away with your knuckles as you watched a ghost of a grin appear on his lips.

Jackass.

"Which is why I have decided to release you back into the Waking World."

His words made you stare at him in disbelief. It couldn’t be, perhaps you misheard him.

“I will allow your return to the Waking, to your parents, and to your old life,” he repeated, perhaps for your sake.

You blinked at him, twice, to make sure you weren't hearing things. He made no move to correct his words, but knowing him, anything he offered you came at a price that could very well cost you your soul.

"Why would you do that?" You asked slowly.

His smile grew to a smirk – this was an offer you already knew you wouldn't like. He straightened his posture and spoke with all the authority a king such as him could possess.

"Because you will marry me," he said with conviction. "You and I will be wed and you will wear a ring to symbolise your devotion to me as my wife and my queen. If you submit to me fully – heart, body and soul – on the night of our wedding, I will arrange a new life for you: one where you live your old life in the Waking World during the day, and come home to me and fulfil your duties to me as my wife, and to my Kingdom as its queen, during the night."

Surely your brain has short-circuited – you gaped at him openly in your shock. He seemed to grow amused with your expression by the glint in his eyes, but you could also tell he was dead serious.

"Something I said, little saviour?"

You opened your mouth to speak, thinking you could easily say 'Yes, go fuck yourself, thank you very much,' but instead, you ended up with, "You're letting me go, seriously?"

He nodded once and firmly responded, "If you become my wife in every sense of the word, yes."

Realising you still had a bit of coffee in your cup, you downed the tepid liquid all in one gulp. You couldn't help but wonder if it was proper to ask for something a little stronger.

"But, how would that work?" You then asked, choosing your words carefully. "I'd be married to you, but then you'll let me go? I find that too good to be true."

"You will simply divide your time between my realm and the Waking."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will, my beloved," he said, his tone growing more amused with your increasingly suspicious expression. "But I assure you, it will not be any different compared to merely sleeping and waking."

You leaned back against your chair to stare at the blue sky and contemplate. He clearly has put a lot of thought into his offer, but there were other factors that needed to be addressed.

"I can't be a queen. I don't know anything about being one! I'm just a human, I have no royal blood, I have no training –"

He interrupted your rambling with an impatient flick of his hand. "Your stature matters not to me. You already possess the heart of a queen in my eyes. There is no one else I find more worthy."

He meant it as a compliment, but even that didn't ease your worries. "What would I tell them when I get back? I can't just go missing and then reappear as if nothing happened…"

You imagined there would be so many questions from so many people; where you've gone, why you left, how you got back – all of them posed challenging to formulate believable responses to.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow at you. "You have read the book, have you not? I can manipulate reality to an extent. I can make it so as if you never left the Waking. Your disappearance will seem but a nightmare to them, and one that they shall forget in time, as they do most dreams."

"And that is if…I willingly marry you."

Once more, he nodded. "I will, however, require nothing but complete surrender." This time, he leaned forward and placed his clasped hands on the table, continuing, "And, know this, my beloved: if there is but a small amount of unwillingness in your heart, I would know, and everything I offered will be forfeited. As such, you shall stay in my realm forever and will never be allowed to set foot in the Waking."

This made you raise your eyebrow back at him. He's really not leaving anything to chance. "What if I decline your offer?"

Surprisingly, he was rather nonchalant about it. He tilted his head slightly and said, "It is of no consequence to me, but you leave your world wanting of your presence. I, in turn, shall simply continue our…unconventional courtship."

You had no response to that. Everything he has so far offered you has been to his advantage, leaving you very much the disadvantaged party. Damned if you said yes, damned anyway if you didn't. You stared blankly at nothing, chewing the insides of your cheek in indecision. He must've taken pity on you, for he decided to break the silence.

"You need time to consider my proposal, I understand. I will leave you to it. I have duties to attend to for the day. In the meantime, you are free to roam the palace grounds. You need only seek me should you come to a decision."

He stood from his chair, straightening his coat, and approached your side. He bent down so he could whisper somberly close to your ear.

"Mind this, my beloved: the longer you tarry, the longer your parents suffer your absence."

You were about to come up with something to retort, but instead, you caught a mouthful of sand. He had disappeared, off to fuck-knows-where, and left you alone to make an important decision. Once you coughed out the last of the sand, you rubbed your face with your hand and groaned in frustration.

Returning to your parents, and to your old life, in exchange for marriage to none other than your captor. You’d be forever bound to him as his wife, and while you’d continue living the charade that would be your life back in the waking, you’d come to him by nightfall and he’d do with you as he pleased. And even if you refused his offer, he’d also likely do with you as he pleased. Every day, you’d pretend as if all was well in your world while being slapped repeatedly with a reality involving a husband that just might send you to the fiery pits on a mere whim.

If you refused, your mother and father would continue their fruitless search, ruining their lives and breaking their hearts forever in the process. They’d blame themselves for your disappearance until the end, unaware of your fate that this cosmic being has selfishly tied with his.

You fought the urge to vomit what little breakfast you ate with one thing on your mind: did he ever really give you a choice?

***

It was sundown in the Dreaming when you arrived before the massive doors of Dream’s throne room.

You’d been sauntering about aimlessly in his castle, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, until you reached these doors. On a regular day, your parents would be having tea at this time, your dad probably reading the paper for the fifth time, and your mom probably playing a jewel-matching game on her phone. Idle, comfortable, safe. You hoped they’d still be doing the same, but that would be wishful thinking.

That was precisely why you had made up your mind.

The doors opened without your prompting, which you took as a sign to step forward, heading straight to that tall, all-black-clad king standing at the foot of the stairs leading to his throne.

He had been waiting for you.

His eyes were burning in anticipation as soon as you got close enough to see. And those same eyes glowed with the stars it held, utterly victorious as you said ‘yes.’

Better you suffered forever than your own mother and father.

“What happens now?” you asked solemnly, trying not to feel thoroughly defeated. Morpheus approached you with an air of perverse delight as his eyes twinkled.

“I believe we are to be wed.”

Your heart began to beat faster at the realisation. “What, like, now?”

“Yes, my beloved,” he dipped his head closer to yours as he breathed, his eyes half-lidded and focused only on you. “At this very moment, we can be wed, right here. We need only utter our vows to each other, as husband and wife, and a witness, to make it official.”

Trying not to panic and failing hard, you stammered, “W-wait, I thought there were preparations, like an officiator – “

“We have no need for an officiator,” he interrupted. “I answer to no authority but my own. Matthew,” he called the name louder, and the sound of flapping wings echoed in the throne room, followed by a raven landing on the floor before the both of you.

“You called, sir?”

You blinked twice to make sure that you hadn't gone mad. Did Matthew the Raven just speak?

“Call for Lucienne,” he told Matthew, like a talking raven was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it was; you were in the Dreaming, after all, where anything is possible, including marriage to a cosmic being that ripped you from a life that you belatedly realised you actually liked. “Tell her it is for an urgent matter.”

"I know you," you addressed the raven, whose attention immediately was on you. "You pecked at my gla – "

"My beloved, this is Matthew, my raven," Dream cut you off again, this time, with just a little hint of impatience in his voice. Dream curtly introduced you to the raven, who promptly ruffled his feathers and dipped his head at you in a polite bow. "Formal introductions can be made later. Go, Matthew."

"On my way, boss. Nice to meet you, my lady, and congratulations!" Matthew once again bowed at the both of you, and you watched him as he took flight and disappeared.

A cold hand laced around yours, and you turned to see him bring it close to his lips to kiss your knuckles, all while staring intensely into your eyes. Like ice-cold water being splashed right in your face, it hit you: this cold, cruel, hungry eldritch nightmare was going to be your husband pretty soon.

Maybe you could run fast, and maybe when you do you'd run into a portal that'll take you back to your world and he won't be able to catch you…

But the pained faces of your parents stopped you from taking your hand away and heading for the hills.

The doors swung open, revealing Lucienne, who strode to her king with a worried look on her face. She sent a curious look at your still-linked hands before addressing her king.

"My lord, is something the matter?"

"Nothing so worrying, Lucienne," he replied in a lilting tone. "I called to ask you this: will you, and in addition, Matthew, grant us this honour of bearing witness to our vows of marriage?"

Lucienne's expression changed from worry to surprise, adjusting her glasses as she clarified, "Sir? You're getting married? Right now? I mean, congratulations are in order, and to you, and my lady," she dipped her head in a small bow at you, which you returned with a shy grimace. "But may I ask why you would settle for such a humble ceremony? Shouldn't there be a feast, a gathering of representatives from all the other realms?"

Morpheus made a point of using your hand to pull you closer to his side with a grin. "Make no mistake, Lucienne: I will not deny my kingdom, and all the realms in the universe, the honour of celebrating the new and rightful queen of the Dreaming, but the festivities are of lesser priority. Now, I have a beautiful bride before me." He turned to face you, lightly caressing your cheek with his fingers as he continued, "I loathe to keep her waiting."

Perhaps touched at his loving declaration, Lucienne placed her palm on her chest and smiled fondly at the display. "Of course, my lord. It would be the greatest honour."

"Yeah, boss, go get her!" Matthew cheered from the top of the arches in the ceiling.

Oh, he's almost got you, alright.

"Very well. We shall begin." He declared with finality. His eyes glowed silver for a split-second, just as you felt the clothes on your body shift: you peeked down to see that he had dressed you in a sleeveless, all-white satin gown hugging your every curve, tied at either shoulder with only a satin ribbon. By the way scanned your figure and nodded to himself appreciatively, you could tell he liked how it looked on you. Maybe he fancied how pure you looked in it.

When he's done with you, would you still be?

Morpheus clasped both your hands in his, his eyes solely on yours, as he kissed your left hand and whispered your name against it.

"Will you take me, Dream of the Endless, as your eternal husband? Do you pledge your trust, your devotion, your heart, and your soul to me?"

Do it for Mom and Dad, you repeated in your head over and over.

"I do," you responded faintly.

The throne room is dead silent, as both your witnesses seemed to be holding their breaths just as you were, but the eyes of your almost-husband screamed triumphantly as he released your hands and waved a finger. A silver ring, adorned with a ruby, appeared floating in your midst, which he then plucked from mid-air.

"Then you shall take this ring," he went on, as placed the ring on your finger. The jewel's blood-red colour faded to white the moment it touched your skin. "A symbol of my endless vow: that to you, I offer protection, loyalty, and love, until I am Endless no more. From this day forth, I claim you as my wife, and we are bound together until the end of days."

The ring now rested ominously on your finger, without a trace of red, and was the heaviest piece of jewellery you had ever worn. It felt as if it was burning your skin, even though it gave off no heat. It made you want to scream and tear your hair out.

Your husband's eyes now bore on yours with a dark, jubilant look, just as sinister as the ring he just used to bind you to him for eternity. An impatient-sounding squawk from above alerted you both to your witnesses' presence. Morpheus smirked in amusement despite the interruption.

"Matthew, would you care to do the honours?"

"Hell yeah!" Came his raven's response. "You may now kiss the bride, boss!"

As soon as the words were said, he cupped your cheeks and placed his lips on yours. It was soft, short, even loving, by normal human wedding standards, and then he let go, and proclaimed to the entire realm:

"We are now officially husband and wife, my precious little saviour."

He brought his forehead to yours, ignoring the way your lip trembled at his statement.

"I have been wanting this for so long."

The sound of clapping, wings flapping and cheering echoed in the throne room, just as his sand wrapped around your figure and took you somewhere hauntingly familiar. The sight of that massive bed in the dark, covered in silk midnight sheets, was enough to send your heartbeat soaring through the roof.

There was only one reason he could've brought you here.

You let out a startled gasp as a pair of cold hands fell on your shoulders. You turned around and backed as far away from the bed as you could, to find Morpheus standing where you were seconds ago, clad in a different, shorter robe with a tie around his waist. He seemed to have nothing else underneath.

"Have I startled you, my beloved wife?" He asked softly, his eyes shining in the dark and his silhouette glowing in the moonlight from the open balcony. He held out a pale hand and said, "Come to your husband."

Aside from bunching the fabric of your dress near your thighs, you made no move whatsoever.

"Come to me this instant."

His low, commanding tone sent warning signals, darkening the atmosphere of the room even further. You took a few tentative steps to where he was, stopping only when he was at arm's length. He, however, closed the distance, dipped his head to yours, and whispered, "Kiss me."

Using a finger, he traced your jawline slowly, down to your neck, lingering at your shoulder where the ribbon of your dress was. His touch immediately gave you goosebumps.

"Please," you whispered shakily. You wanted to beg for him to stop, but his lips were on yours even before you could formulate the words.

The kisses you previously shared with him paled in comparison. This was different: it was as if he longed to suck the soul out of you. His tongue chased yours, and he nipped at your lower lip when you refused to respond. His hands were on your waist and the back of your neck, preventing you from pulling away. You couldn't make a sound except the whimpering from the back of your throat, yet he drowned it all out by syphoning the air out of you. With a final peck on your swollen lips, he pulled away. As he did, you got a full glimpse of his eyes: half-lidded, dark, wanting; it terrified you to no end. Then he threw you off with his next order:

"Disrobe me."

You took ragged breaths as your hands crept up to the knot around his waist, but you were shaking so much you couldn't do anything to it. He held your hands steady and guided you, and the knot came off in no time. He then brought them to his chest, where the robe was slipping – that, too, came off, and there he was, your husband, totally bared before you. Heat spread on your cheeks as you stared pointedly at that sculpted chest, refusing to look anywhere else.

Morpheus hummed lowly as he brought his lips to your ear.

"Have you ever worshipped an all-powerful being? Let me show you how. On your knees for me, my love." He gripped your shoulders and pushed down lightly to encourage you. Your stomach churned as soon as you realised what he wanted you to do.

"Morpheus, please…" you begged as you tried to get those hands off you, but he wasn't having it.

"I command you to kneel before your king and husband," he growled.

You could feel the tears surfacing as you did what you were told, so you closed your eyes so they wouldn't. You were, after all, doing this for the people you loved. You'd be free after this night is over.

"Eyes on me, my wife."

So you opened them to find yourself face to face with a huge, fully erect cock – his hand cupped your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as if he was trying to soothe you.

It did nothing of the sort.

So you pleaded with him again.

"Please, Dream…I can't do this, please," was all your shaky voice could muster. But you found no pity in his eyes; just overwhelming desire.

"Yes, you can. Open your mouth, love."

The thumb that caressed your cheek made its way inside your mouth.

"You want your life back, yes?" He asked, as his thumb drew circles on your tongue. You nodded in response.

"Good." He smirked. "You will have to work for it. Now, I want my pretty wife's pretty little mouth wrapped around me."

So for the sake of your freedom, you swallowed that lump in your throat and allowed him to push his hard cock inside your mouth.

He tasted faintly sweet, faintly salty and musky. Above you, he groaned in satisfaction at the contact and bucked his hips to push his cock further. You closed your eyes, involuntary tears streaming down your face, as he reached your throat; he was too much, his size was more than what you could handle, and he wasn't even fully in.

A hand bunched your hair and tugged lightly.

"I said, eyes on me, wife," he commanded, his voice straining slightly in pleasure. "I want your full attention as I take your mouth."

So you looked up into those dark, lustful eyes, placed your hands on his thighs, and began to suck him off.

It was a slow pace at first, given you hadn't done anything like this before, but as you swirled your tongue around his thickness and felt it throb inside your mouth, something in you bubbled, making you rub your thighs together. He seemed to notice this, for his parted lips curled in a mischievous smile, and began to thrust forward as you bobbed your head downward to take him in.

"You're doing so well, my love…" he praised as you continued to suck and lick him.

Disgust filled you, but there was something else, too.

He was panting as he quicked his movements, and while he kept your head in place with both hands so he could take control of the pace, your eyes watered at his size and length. But, just as his cock throbbed more intensely and you felt him thicken inside your mouth, he pulled it out with a heavy groan, a trail of your saliva still connecting your tongue and its tip. He was probably close, too – not that you cared; you were thankful you didn't have to do it anymore.

Your husband helped you get to your feet, and he wiped the drool that coated your chin and the corners of your mouth. Just as you thought it was over, dread filled your heart once more as he whispered:

"Your mouth was a delight, my wife, but I would like my undoing to be inside you. Now, undress for me."

"Please, Morpheus, we don't have to do this," you tried to appeal. Of course, it was in vain.

"Our marriage isn't binding without proper consummation," he said, anger and impatience laced in his tone. "I will not ask again."

You could do nothing but choke back a sob as you hastily undid a ribbon on your dress, but his hand halted your fumbling. He looked down at you with a disapproving expression.

"Slowly, my love. I want to savour this."

So, like the obedient wife he wanted you to be, you pulled the ribbon inch by inch and undid the other side just as gradually. As soon as the ribbons unravelled, the satin dress pooled at your feet, taking away whatever protection you had left from his greedy eyes. You could hear the rumble from the back of Dream's throat as he hovered over your naked form. You were shivering from the cold Dreaming air coming from the open balcony, and from the way his eyes swept your body. Nobody has ever seen you so vulnerable.

A sob escaped from your lips, but it was completely ignored.

Pale fingers traced your body – he began on your collarbones, and made his way to your breasts, his thumb circling your nipples which pebbled at his touch. He then started stroking your waist while you continued to let your tears flow silently, before gripping your body and pulling it flush to his. You winced as you felt his erection press against your belly.

"Your beauty is staggering, my beloved," he praised.

The next thing you knew was your back hitting the soft sheets and him climbing above you.

You were in hysterics the moment you realised what was happening – you clawed at the chest that descended on your body and cried out in your despair, but strong hands grabbed your wrists and pinned them on your sides. You tilted your head so you could avoid seeing your husband's face, but in your blurry line of vision, all you could see was that damned ring on your finger, weighing you down as much as the torso sitting on top of you.

Morpheus brought his head closer with his breath fanning your exposed cheek, his ire palpable at your unacceptable behaviour.

"Remember our agreement, my little saviour. Or have you decided to eternally relinquish your life in the Waking and devote it all to me?"

You shook your head in denial, but the tears flowed freely. Gentle lips kissed them away, and you let them, as once more you were reminded what was at stake.

Just one night of this, and everything will be fine.

He pecked the corner of your lips before kissing you fully in the mouth, not caring that his cock was in it just a few moments ago. His hands roamed every part of your body he could reach. As his tongue lapped yours, he cupped your breasts and squeezed softly, and you moaned into his mouth and began kissing him back, albeit hesitantly. He pinched both your nipples at the same time, making you arch your back. It was mortifying, but damn, it felt good.

His heated, open-mouthed kisses moved to your jaw, then settled on your neck, finally biting and suckling your flesh – it hurt a little, but it was as if he longed to mark every part of you. Your skin crawled at the way his mouth moved downwards to your chest. You were breathing heavily now, both in terror and heightening desire. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan when his mouth began suckling your breast and biting the nipple. Heat surged to both your cheeks and between your thighs, and you began to feel this bizarre need for more friction down there.

Maybe this could work, just drowning in pleasure like this. Never mind who it was coming from.

With an agonising pace, that damned mouth travelled down your belly, to your bosom, and reached that aching flesh. He then spread your legs and nestled between them, his eyes darkening when he saw just how much he had aroused you.

"You see, my beloved?" He said with a soft chuckle. "You crave this as much as I do."

You were probably red in the face now, having never been exposed to anyone else like this in your life. You tilted your head and closed your eyes in your shame. You weren't supposed to want this.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, my wife. Your body belongs to me. It is only right that I get acquainted with it."

He started kissing and biting down your inner thighs, marking them as his possession, but before you could adjust to this new-found pleasure, his hot breath was on your wet flesh and that mouth of his feasted.

His tongue parted your folds and then sucked on your clit, and he did this over and over, while you lay there, sprawled for him, panting heavily and mewling, gripping the sheets beneath you. He didn't mind that you weren't shaved, he ate and drank from you like a starved man, and your thighs automatically clenched him to keep him there. You writhed and moaned while that devilish mouth lapped up everything you could offer, and you could actually feel the tension building up in you like a coil, wanting to be released…

But then pulled away, leaving you winded and bewildered, while he looked down on you with a smug expression and the corner of his lips still glistening with your arousal.

"How can someone so pure taste so sinful?" He purred as he wiped his lower lip with his thumb. "I need you now, my precious little saviour. I have waited long enough."

His look darkened, immense hunger overtaking his features, as he descended on you once more and positioned himself between your spread legs. In an instant, the haziness of the pleasure was replaced by sheer panic, but by the time you reacted, he already had your wrists pinned above your head with a hand while he pushed your thighs even further apart with the other.

You knew what was at stake, but your resolve was at its weakest.

"Morpheus, please, please," you began to cry again. "I'll do anything else, I beg you…"

"Sshh, my beloved wife, sshh," he comforted you in a hushed tone as he drew closer to kiss your face repeatedly. He went on further, donning a sympathetic look. "Do you know what your parents dream of night after night? You, safe in their arms, loved and happy and wanting nothing. Do you truly wish for that to remain but a dream to them?"

You were in far too much distress to respond, but in your heart, you knew leaving them like that in the Waking would be a greater pain than what you would endure for this night. So, with great effort, you willed your tears to cease, which he seemed to take as a sign. Shifting slightly above you, he took his raging erection in his hand, placed it over your clit and dragged it a few times through your folds, before the tip landed on your untouched entrance. Letting go of your wrists, he cupped your face tenderly, and started pushing it in.

Nothing, not even that soft touch and that gentle shushing, could have prepared you for the pain you felt at the way his cock tore through your opening. You were petrified and in so much pain, the tears clouded your vision. Breathing shallowly, you could feel him push further into you, and your walls strained to accommodate him. He was impossibly huge, hot and pulsating, and every second he spent inside you was pure agony.

"Morpheus, please," you begged, fisting the sheets beneath you for elusive relief. "Please, it h-hurts, I-I can't – "

Your words were cut off by a searing kiss and a tongue that delved into yours, drowning out your cries of pain. He drank in everything, including your tears, his teeth scraping your lips as he tasted everything. He pulled away from the kiss with a groan; he now filled you to the brim, taking a great amount of pleasure from the way you wrapped around him. He stretched you to your limits while you keened from the effort of adjusting to his size.

"My wife, my love, hush," he murmured against the crook of your neck, planting soft butterfly kisses on the places he hadn't yet marked. "After the pain, will come the pleasure."

Morpheus stayed still, his forehead nuzzling your cheek, giving you time for the pain to fade. He took your hands and wrapped them around his form. You couldn't help squeezing his shoulders as you tried to relax, which he didn't object to.

From within you, he started to move. You could feel the friction as he pulled his cock out almost completely before putting it back in. You hissed and moaned in discomfort, but he went on at a slow pace. It didn't take long before you realised that the foreign feeling of being filled repeatedly to the brim was beginning to feel quite pleasurable, but that was nothing compared to a thrust that hit a certain spot in your core that sent you reeling in its intensity. Morpheus, who seemed delighted at the rather loud sound you made, grinned against your cheek and pulled away slightly, hovering over you, and began hitting that sweet spot again and again.

You threw your head back into the pillow, lost in the pleasure he gave, moaning wantonly as he increased his pace and the force of his thrusts. It was further amplified when he gripped your hips and pulled you to him as he filled you over and over, and in no time, your body began moving in sync with his as you sought more of it. Your walls clenched and unclenched around his cock without your control, you could tell that it gave him as much pleasure as it did you, for he started groaning your name over and over.

Was it supposed to be this delicious?

Soon, your movements became more insistent, and his more relentless; every part of you fired up as the pleasure heightened. You dug your nails on his back and you could feel your pulse drumming in your ears as he pounded your core. You were clenching him harder now, your flesh clinging onto his cock like your life depended on it.

With a harsh snap of his hips, you burst at the seams and unravelled; you came around his cock, screaming your husband's name, and all you could think of was his rock-hard cock forcefully hitting your sensitive walls. He too, came with a groan and your name on his lips, sending flashes of searing hot cum inside you and flooding your core with it. Your walls fluttered around the cock that was still shooting its load inside you, and your entire body shook as your orgasm took over every thought and every muscle.

It was pure bliss, and you soaked it all in.

It took a while for the high to fade, and a little longer for you to realise he was still on top of you, his cock was still hard and still inside you, and he was suckling the base of your neck and your shoulders. He's already left you bite marks all over your body, but even that wasn't enough for him, it seemed.

Resentment washed over you like cold water, but you didn't know whether it was for him or for yourself.

You let out a noise of complaint and used your palm to push at his chest. Perhaps he got the hint, for he pulled out and away from you with a final peck on your cheek. You rolled to your side as soon as he lifted off you, and your thighs inadvertently rubbed together. You were sore down there and so wet you didn't dare look, fearing you might lose your mind if you did.

Without warning, however, you were flipped to your stomach, with your husband pinning you down with his body draped all over you.

Against your ear, he whispered, "My beloved wife, you did so well. And you're going to take your husband again."

Terror welled in your heart. You were to have him inside you again, and you didn't know how much self-respect you were going to end up with if you so much as let out another embarrassing sound out of your mouth.

"Please, we already did it once – !"

Your protest was interrupted as soon as he dipped his head to your neck and bit your flesh, and with one thrust, his cock was once again lodged inside you from behind, earning a squeal from you and a sob.

He was hurting you again, and it had no right to feel this good.

"And we shall do so again, and again," he growled against your skin. "Until I'm sated. After all, you have denied me of your body for so long…"

He began thrusting into you without waiting for your body to adjust. He was rougher, hungrier, and more voracious than ever before, and the air in the room felt heavier than when he first took you.

As powerless as he made you feel since his capture of you, it was all the more evident now, and yet all that came out of you were shameless, loud moans and incoherent babbling. He hit that sweet spot over and over again with so much force, your body couldn't keep up with his pace, you laid still underneath him and let him have you.

"You will never deny me again, is that understood?"

You couldn't respond with so much as a curse – the onslaught of pleasure as he ravaged you made it almost impossible, but the rumble on his chest told you he wasn't happy with being ignored.

"Is that understood, wife?" He asked impatiently.

"Yes," you managed to let out. "Yes, Morpheus…"

He hummed in satisfaction from behind you. "All mine, all mine," he murmured, and began a pace that made you curl your toes and cry out. From behind you, he pounded into you, while your throbbing core tried its best clamping on his cock to chase that intoxicating high.

"Oh god," you cried out.

This earned a sharp yank of your hair from him. You could feel his anger envelop you and hear him growl at the back of his throat.

"Wrong," he whispered vehemently against your ear. He pulled out of you, and you whined at the absence of him inside you. "I will not have you scream another's name while I pleasure you, wife. Now, amend your mistake, or shall I take away that lovely voice of yours? It would be a shame, not hearing the music you make while I'm – " you screamed as he put his cock back inside you without warning – "buried deep inside you…"

Whether you angered him or not was of no consequence to you; the moment he continued ramming into your increasingly sensitive hole, you cried out his name, gripping the pillow in front of you with all your might just so you could take it. The ring on your finger was now completely ignored.

"Morpheus, I'm sorry, Morpheus…" you said repeatedly.

"Hmmm…that's my good girl, such an obedient wife…taking me so well…" he praised, holding your hips and bringing it to his.

His was unbridled lust, now making it known to you, and maybe even his entire realm, judging by how loud you were moaning.

"Please, please…" you begged. But for what? For him to stop? For him to go harder?

He chuckled behind you as his pace slowed down a little. "Does my little saviour want her release?"

You had tears streaming down your face in frustration. He was just torturing you at this point, but all you could do was nod as you tried to move to get more of that friction he provided. He tightened his grip on your hips to still you.

"Does my ravishing wife want her husband's seed dripping all over her thighs like the good wife she is?"

"Yes, Morpheus," you bawled. "I'm begging you, please…"

But he continued that infuriatingly controlled pace and made no move to speed it up. He whispered in your ear, "Say what you want, my little saviour and I shall give it."

"Please, Morpheus, make me come, please…"

"Good girl," he purred.

Morpheus happily obliged with your request. He rutted into you, making you throw your head back and move against him at his every thrust. He didn't like it, though; he gripped your hair again and smushed your face into the mattress, and lifted your hips in the air so he could get better access. His chambers were filled with your echoing screams and the rhythmic noise of sweaty slapping flesh trying to become one.

For him, this wasn't about making love anymore: this was primal, this was him marking you as his forever.

You were close – you could feel pleasure, so euphoric, thrumming within your body; your walls were now clenching him harder than ever, and every thrust of his sent jolts of electricity into your abdomen. So close, so close…

From behind you, he commanded, "Now, be a good wife and come for your husband."

And so you do; you came, so much harder than the first, screaming only your husband's name into the night. His thrusts became more erratic, his cock pulsed inside you, while your thighs quivered, your walls clamping down on him. With a thundering growl, he found his release, and sent ropes and ropes of his seed inside your walls, filling you up to the brim with it while you milked his cock for more. He whispered your name like a prayer against your hair, and bit down on your shoulder as he pumped the last of his cum within you.

It was ecstasy, dizzying and overwhelming.

As with all highs, however, came the lows, and for you, it couldn't get any lower: you were helpless, tired, and underneath a husband who was still inside you as you caught your breath and realised just how low you'd sunk.

"My love, you were exceptional," he said with a kiss on your shoulder, right on the spot that he bit when he came. Just as he pulled out of you, you felt some of his spend leak out, so buried your face in the pillow in absolute shame.

You did this to get some of your life back, but even the reminder didn't make it any easier.

You felt the bed move, and your husband shifted beside you.

"I am, however, nowhere near sated," he said with a smirk. "I am not done with you. Now, kindly get on your hands and knees for me, my good wife."

You could only whimper in protest at the way his insistent hand gave your ass cheek a good squeeze. He helped you get on all fours, then positioned himself behind you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit before plunging its entirety inside your aching walls with one forceful thrust.

Just this one night, you reminded yourself, then everything will be fine.

***

You were limp, sore, and exhausted beyond anything. After the seventh orgasm, you've lost count of how many more your husband had managed to force out of you, and your thighs were slick with the cum he had pumped inside you. Morpheus didn't seem to mind the mess you were making on his thighs as you sat on top of him with your legs spread to accommodate him and clung onto him with your arms around his neck, your aching body sprawled on his chest. The only thing anchoring you to your horrendous reality was the jolts of unwanted pleasure being sent into your core brought about by his ceaseless upwards thrusts, spreading all across your body and overstimulating all your nerve endings.

"One more for me, my beloved, you can take one more for your husband," he had kept saying.

When you orgasmed, it was rapture in almost every sense – you buried your face at the crook of his neck and blacked out for a few microseconds, only to be pulled back to consciousness by the warmth in your core courtesy of his spend inside you, and the mighty groan he let out as he, too, found his release. You actually cried softly in relief as he halted his movements.

It was over. It was over.

You thought you were going to end up sleeping in that position, but he rolled both of you over on the mattress and the pillows so gently, as if he had not just spent the entire night ruthlessly taking your virginity.

He manoeuvred you so you laid on top of him and you could hear him coo into your hair in a language that seemed familiar but you couldn't quite understand.

Whatever it was, it was oddly comforting, and along with being drained with every ounce of your energy, it was enough to lull you into sleep.

He didn't even have to use his sand.

***

You were jostled awake by fingers softly raking your hair.

As soon as your eyes opened, you were greeted warmly with ocean-blue eyes that held a multitude of galaxies. Despite waking up draped on top of a husband that you didn't really ask for, you had hope for the first time since he had spirited you to his realm. In just a few moments, you'd be back to work, just like nothing ever happened.

"Good morning, my precious little saviour," he greeted with a gentle smile.

Your lips moved, but it wasn't quite like the smile he had on. "H-hey," you greeted back as you placed your palm on his chest and pulled away as much as he allowed you to. "Uh, about our deal…"

"Hmm. What about it?" He asked idly, fluttering those enviably long eyelashes at you.

"I'm free now, right? You'll take me back to my world, and everything should be exactly as I left it."

You couldn't quite sit up, as he had his other arm around your back still trapping you to his naked body.

"Indeed," he hummed nonchalantly. "I gave you my word of returning you to the Waking in the condition that you give your heart to me fully and willingly."

You swallowed your nerves down, which were piqued for some reason. If he was playing around, he needed to quit it. Work started at nine, and you didn't really want to be late.

"And I did," you insisted. "Now, keep your promise and let me go."

There was a palpable tension as he let go of you and allowed you to finally pull away. You changed your mind about sitting up, fearing you'd pull a muscle with all the strain your body took from last night's activities. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and faced you with a sombre expression.

"I'm afraid you did not fulfil the terms of our agreement, my beloved."

Did you see this coming from a mile away? You should've, said that nagging voice at the back of your head. What else could you have missed?

"Yes, I did," you countered, your voice faltering a little. You sat up abruptly, regretting it the moment you did. All your muscles screamed in protest, and you winced at the sudden pain between your legs. Ignoring it, you continued, "I did…I did everything you asked. You said you'd free me if I did… all of this."

"And I would have," he replied, tucking a strand of your messed-up hair behind your ears. "Had you offered yourself unto me entirely. The ring on your finger shows otherwise."

He took your hand that held the ring just as soon as your eyes were on it. The white in it seemed to swirl ominously, and you didn't like the way it seemed to respond to the man who gave it to you.

"The jewel on this ring detects your heart's pure desire," he explained, his finger tracing the stone. "It was partly imbibed by my sibling's power, and partly mine. My sibling, Desire, agreed to make the ring with me, signifying a truce between us and our realms."

He kissed the back of your hand before he released it, and you took it back and nursed it as if he just stung you.

He simply went on, "Should your heart submit to me in absolution, the jewel would burn blood crimson. Alas, it has not shifted colours the entire night you laid with me."

This wasn't happening. This must be some sort of ploy to get you to stay, right?

"Now, I do not mind in the slightest, my love," he droned on, ignoring the fact that you were now frozen in place and in disbelief. "I have an eternity to win you. But as far as our agreement is concerned, I cannot let you leave."

He lowered his timbre at the last part of his sentence for emphasis.

"So all of this was for nothing?" You asked blankly and gestured at the mess of sheets on his bed.

This can't be happening.

"My love, if it wasn't for you, my sibling and I would still be in a disagreement." He cupped your cheeks in praise, flashing you a proud look. "This was essentially your first act as queen: bringing peace between the Dreaming and The Threshold."

You snapped out of your dazed trance and swatted those hands away. You had a deal and damned if he won't fulfil his end of the bargain. He must be playing mind games with you – that was the only plausible explanation.

"Enough of your games, Morpheus," you spat out. "I married you, I slept with you. You gave me your word. I demand that you take me back to my place!"

But Morpheus merely raised his eyebrow at your outburst.

"I believe you are in no position to demand anything."

"You took everything from me!" You screamed, now fully realising the shithole you've just dug yourself into. You agreed to this, and he tricked you, using your vulnerability to his advantage. The worst part of it was, he had you played right from the get-go. "I have nothing left! I had nothing going for me but your word, and now…a-and now…"

All that frustration you had for him and yourself had to be released, and you did it the way you knew: you burst into tears.

Your mom and dad. They'd never see you again.

The nightmare that called himself your husband gathered your shaking form in his arms and whispered words that were supposed to comfort you, but you struggled against him and hit his chest repeatedly. He drew your face to his chest by wrapping his hand around your head and planted kisses on your hair.

"You planned this, you evil fucking cunt, you tricked me," you yelled against his chest. "You can't keep me in here…please let me go…"

"What kind of husband would I be if I let my own wife roam the Waking and live in a condition clearly beneath her royal status? No, such squalor does not befit you. You deserve to be worshipped, and I shall, my queen, until I cease to be."

"Morpheus," you tried to implore. "Please just let me go…"

But his grip on you never wavered. "I will never release you," he growled against your hair. "You belong to me for eternity. Now, I grow tired of this petty argument."

With a swift movement, he laid you on your back, climbed on top of you, and placed a hand on your throat.

A warning.

Even with tears blurring your vision, you saw his expression quite clearly. Wanton hunger and obsession took over his features, his eyes darkening and bleeding to black, just like they did when he first invaded your life with that confession you had rejected.

"You, however, my lovely wife, I will never tire of…" he whispered darkly. "Exhausted and bruised from our previous love-making, filled to the brim and dripping with my seed… just how you always should be."

You could only watch, helpless and unable to move in fear, as he pinned your wrists with one hand above your head. He slipped two fingers inside your still-sensitive walls without breaking eye contact, and withdrew it, donning on a satisfied smirk. You pleaded with him as he parted your legs with his knees, but even you knew your begging would fall on deaf ears. He had taken everything from you, and he was about to take more – with a single thrust, he was inside you again, and with a groan of pleasure he buried his face at the crook of your neck, whispering only one word again and again:

Mine. Mine. Mine.

With every last bit of hope leaving your exhausted body and mind, for the first time since he imprisoned you, you started believing him.

***

Morpheus was in a state of utter ecstasy.

First, his plan had worked. He was aware that you weren't in the right state of mind to fully give your heart to him, let alone make the change overnight, and the ring he sought from his sibling as reparation for their past falling out had worked spectacularly, allowing you to walk right into his well-laden trap. You had given him no choice – it was a necessary move to finally seal your fate with him for eternity.

Second, he had himself fully sheathed inside your heat, drawing out all the pleasure he could derive from your union, and you underneath him writhing in the throes of passion with your moans and cries echoing in his chambers.

Third, he just had a glimpse of the ring on your hand, that token of your devotion to him, and him alone, which began glowing in the lightest, most imperceptible shades of pink.

His joy amplified at the sight. He captured your lips with his as he thrust wildly into your throbbing flesh – you, the precious little mortal that inadvertently saved him with but a small act of kindness, was now in his arms, his, and you had nowhere else to go.

********************************

Wasn't too satisfied with the ending, but please let me know what you think! This may have been the filthiest smut I have ever written, even if I have written only a handful of them lol

Also, forgive me if there were any errors, I shall edit this as soon as I can!

Tagging:

@morpheuss1mp

@alexander-arcturus-black

@typical-bistander

@ladyredstar1991

@moonmaiden1996

@musemaniac42

#dark!dream x reader #dark!dream x you #dark!morpheus fic #dark!morpheus x reader #dark!dream threeshot #dark!dream of the endless #dark!morpheus fanfic #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction #A Small Act of Kindness Series #A Small Act of Kindness Pt 3

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 4 months

Text

𓅨 The Cold is Never Violent: Chapter Six

The Cold is Never Violent: You were determined to help Morpheus get his tools back, so you willingly followed him to hell. Hell was not supposed to be this cold. Lucifer has something up their sleeve, making you stay the night in hell before the Oldest Game, and it does not bode well for you.

Warnings: I did Edit but it’s like 2 in the morning so…

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x AFAB!Reader, Pour Vous @melancholypancakes 😘

Word Count: ~3.6k

Previous | Masterlist

Morpheus and Matthew had left to retrieve the ruby, leaving Lucienne to putter around the library and question the motive and actions of her lord. Surely he was smarter than this! Morpheus, in his great endeavor to protect you, his love, had managed to hurt you deeply and most likely hadn’t even realized it! Even after a few days of Morpheus being gone, Lucienne hadn’t seen you return from leaving for the brother’s houses.

You had said that you needed time away from the palace, and while Lucienne was reluctant to let out wander away from the safety of the palace she couldn’t fault you from wanting away from the place Morpheus had kept you in for nearly four days straight. But you hadn’t come back, and no word had come from the brothers regarding you staying over. To be frank the librarian was concerned for you. Putting away a few new books, Lucienne was alerted to the arrival of her lord and turned in place. Morpheus did not hold the ruby necklace within his hand, but the air around him shimmered with immense power.

“My lord,” Lucienne greeted as Matthew fluttered over and landed on the nearby table. “I see that you were successful in retrieving your ruby.”

“To a point,” Morpheus replied, stopping by the table and focusing on his power to fully return the library to its former glory. “John Dee defiled the gem and it’s ultimate destruction returned my power to me.” Lucienne frowned at the thought of a mortal defiling such a reverent and important piece of the Dreaming… but the shift and shivers of the library took her attention.

In a matter of seconds the library was back to its regal state, pristine wood and polished floors. The librarian sighed in happiness at her domain finally returning to its formal glory. Just as the library shifted back to its normal state, the rest of the palace quickly shifted and groaned as it rebuilt itself.

“Regarding the affairs of the realm, it should return to normal within the next day as Fiddler’s Green has returned. What is the status of the census?” Morpheus questioned, half his conscious focused on rebuilding his realm. There was so much to do.

“It is nearly complete, just a few remaining denizens unaccounted for but that is to be expected.” Lucienne informed the Dream Lord, retrieving the long list of names and placing it down on the table.

“And Y/N? Have they caused any trouble while I was gone.” Morpheus glanced around, expecting you to pop out from behind a book shelf and argue about why he had left you behind. You were no where to be seen.

“Y/N left the palace several days ago to visit the brothers,” Lucienne explained, adjusting her spectacles. “They have not, however, returned.”

Morpheus was too distracted by tasks that need doing to contemplate your unusual and slightly concerning action of leaving. You were out of the way and safe within his realm. He’d deal with you later.

The entire Dreaming was glowing with Endless power once more, its residents returned home and town bustling with activity as old. Morpheus felt at home once more, surrounded by his denizens and creations. But as Morpheus sat upon his throne he felt something within his being alert him that something was wrong. What? He did not know but the feeling persisted just below the skin of his physical form.

Drumming his fingers on the arm rests of his throne, the itch to find out what was wrong persisted to the point where he could no longer sit there and wonder. Pushing himself to his feet, Morpheus strode down the stairs and strode towards the gardens. There was a missing piece to his realm, perhaps that was what bothered him.

You.

You were still absent, days after Morpheus had returned and there had been no mischief or questions from you. It was… unsettling. So he strode for the gardens determined to hunt you down and remove this uncomfortable feeling. Surely being in your presence alone would make the Endless feel better. He needed your comforting warmth and embrace.

Exiting the palace, Morpheus caught sight of Mervyn lumbering through the gardens carrying a bucket and trowel. The pumpkin headed janitor caught sight of his lord walking straight for him and already knew what he was going to inquire. So he paused in step and thought about how to tell Morpheus that you’d left the palace and hadn’t come back, and no one really knew where you were.

“Evening sir,” Mervyn grunted out.

“Tell me, Mervyn, do you know the whereabouts of Y/N? They are partial to your company and I have yet to see them prancing through our halls since my return.” Morpheus questioned, observing his janitor. Mervyn shrugged his wooden shoulders. “Surely they have returned to their mischief and merrymaking…’

“Haven’t seen ‘em, sir,” He spoke before rubbing the back of his pumpkin head. “Actually they’ve been kind of awol since you left to retrieve your ruby. Been really weird not having them around… Don’t know where they went, been awfully quiet ‘round here.”

Morpheus wasn’t pleased to hear that and walked swiftly away to find someone else to ask for your whereabouts. But the kitchen staff hadn’t prepared you any meals since he’d been gone, the servants who took care of your wing reported that you hadn’t slept in your bed in three nights, and the dragon that guarded the entrance to the palace reported that you indeed hadn’t come back since you departed.

“Sir, I’m really worried about where Y/N went,” Matthew spoke after Morpheus had spoken with yet another palace staff member who hadn’t seen you around. “This isn’t like them! They love the palace and being near the library, they wouldn’t just up and disappear like this!”

Morpheus concurred with a troubled frown. Matthew fluttered to the floor in front of the Dream Lord and looked up.

“I don’t think they’re recovered from whatever happened in hell, sir,” Matthew bravely said. “You— you need to find them and make sure they’re okay.”

After speaking with Lucienne, Morpheus made his way to the brother’s houses. Lucienne had told him that you had planned to head there and hopefully you were still there. Had softly spoken about a poor mood or such. As he traveled to the brothers houses, Morpheus contemplated what was wrong with you. He had done his very best to ensure that you were safe and out of harms way since returning from hell. You had been in a vulnerable state, had nearly died, Morpheus wouldn’t even entertain the idea that you would put yourself at risk again. He had been so weak at the start of your relationship, you had been the one doing the protecting. Morpheus vowed to never let anything happen to you ever again now that he was himself once more.

Approaching the joined houses, Morpheus saw that Cain was digging a hole and Abel was playing with Goldie.

“Ah,” Abel spoke, catching sight of the approaching Dream Lord. A wide smile appeared on his face. “What brings you by, sir?”

“Y/N,” Morpheus stated, scanning the grounds for your presence in hopes that you’d pop out of nowhere and put his worries to rest. “I am in search of them.”

“Oh, they were here several days ago, spent the night,” Abel said helpfully before frowning. “They left for Fiddler’s Green on the morn’ and never came back. I thought they went back to the palace…”

Morpheus’ mood darkened and his worry grew more severe. Something was wrong.

“Sir? Is everything alright?” Abel broached, noticing the change in mood in Morpheus. Morpheus blinked and drew himself from his thoughts to address Abel.

“Y/N is missing and I am attempting to track them down.” The Endless explained. “You said they left for Fiddler’s Green? Perhaps he knows where they went.” Abel nodded and pet Goldie on the back.

“If they show up I’ll send word to the palace. It’s not like Y/N to just go missing.” Morpheus nodded, further hiding his growing upset and turned around. Fiddler’s Green wasn’t too far to walk and striding through the lush green forest. Morpheus didn’t need to broach conversation before the Arcana’s disembodied voice floated through the air.

“They aren’t here,” Morpheus paused in step. If you weren’t in Fiddler’s Green, where could you have gone? You weren’t at the palace, not at the brothers, certainly not in town… yet Morpheus could just barely feel the flicker of your mortal being within his realm. He’d never felt your life force so faint before. Something was terribly wrong.

“Do you know where they are? I can barely sense them and fear that something must have happened.” Morpheus questioned, looking up to the blue sky.

“The northern mountains,” Fiddler’s Green explained. “They came to me asking about the coldest place in all of the Dreaming. I do not understand why they would wish to go there, it is not suitable for them. They will surely be far too cold.” The feeling of apprehension within Morpheus turned into panic and dread.

You wished he had just let you die of hypothermia. Hugging your knees to your chest, you sniffed and pressed your damp eyes against your knees. Morpheus didn’t want your help? After all this time? You thought— you thought that had been what brought you together! But now it seemed that you were nothing but a pest to the Endless! It had been foolish of you to start thinking about what it would be like to be in a romantic relationship with Morpheus. Then you had to go and fall in love with him.

“Don’t be even stupider than you already have been, Y/N,” You whispered to yourself. Morpheus had saved you because he couldn’t afford to let Lucifer think that his people were easy pickings. You might not be one of his people but you had been with him at the time. Obligation, not because he cared for you. Not because he— You ground your palms into your eyes and choked back a sob. You couldn’t even say the word! “I’m so stupid.”

Nothing made sense anymore and you were miserable and alone. What you would give to feel that blissful cold again. You opened your eyes. The Dreaming had all sorts of climates, surely there would be somewhere cold that you could go. If you went there you could numb yourself to your hurt. Numb yourself to Morpheus and his obvious annoyance of you. Unfolding your stiff body, you furiously wiped your eyes before exiting your borrowed room at Abel’s house. He and Cain were in the kitchen, having a spot of tea while Goldie munched on a biscuit.

“Oh! Y/N, you’re just in time for tea!” Abel chirped happily while Cain looked over his newspaper. You looked tired and your eyes were stained red.

“Abel made your favorite cookies,” The older brother added, hoping to cheer you up from the slump you seemed to be in. You shook your head and shuffled for the door.

“‘M headed out to Fiddler’s Green,” You announced to them. “Thanks for letting me stay here, I needed a break from the palace.” Abel’s face fell at your departure, for he knew that something was bothering you. But you were within your right to keep your secrets. At least you were heading out to Fiddler’s Green. The fresh air and beautiful nature would surely help you!

“You drop by again, anytime,” Cain called as you exited the cottage. You didn’t reply but gave him a short nod before closing the door behind you. Trudging along, you peered over the stone bridge at the little creek that crossed in front of the brother’s houses and admired the clarity of the water. Everything in the Dreaming had its place, was incredibly beautiful, functioned as it should. Everything but you.

You were out of place, a mortal, and it’s ruler was currently treating you like you had contracted the plague. As desperately as you wanted to, you simply did not belong in the dreaming. Hugging your arms around your body, you entered Fiddler’s Green and walked a little ways just to enjoy the sounds of birds and the explosive green around you.

“Fiddler’s Green?” You finally asked, hoping the Arcana would be inclined to help you. There was a rustle of trees and the entity answered.

“Hello, Y/N,” You sighed in relief, not everyone was ignoring you.

“You know the Dreaming the best,” You started, your eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Where’s the coldest place? The mountains?” The Arcana wondered why you would want to know such information but helpfully answered your question, explaining that the coldest place in the entire Dreaming was a midpoint in the mountains where Dreams and Nightmares that loved the freezing cold resided. There weren’t many, but just enough that a habitat existed for them.

After directing you to a coldest steppe, Fiddle’s Green watched as you swiftly walked yourself from his being towards the mountain, not once thinking that you had anything else but sightseeing on your mind.

Ice crystals had gathered on your lashes from where you lay partially on your side with your back flat against cold rock and snow. When you had reached the base of the mountain, you had started to pull pieces of clothing off your body. First your jacket went, you’d relished the bitter nip the slight breeze caused. But it hadn’t been enough. So you removed your sweater. Still too warm. One by one you left your shoes and socks behind, wandering up the mountain with increasingly chilled skin.

Unlike in hell, this cold soothed the ache in your heart and stole the thoughts of pain from your mind, numbing you to everything around you. By the time you had reached the steppe Fiddle’s Green had told you about, you couldn’t feel your toes and your skin was ice. You were tired, wanted to lay down and nap. So that’s what you had done.

Curled up on the ground, back flat so you could watch little clumps of snow drift down from the sky, you basked in numbness once more. Even as the bitter cold settled into your body, stealing what little body heat you had left, the Dreaming itself was struggling to stop the warmth from leaving your body. Its task was to keep this location at a certain temperature, it could not change that, but you were going to die if you did not find warmth again. So the realm did what is could to simply slow the inevitable unless someone came for you. Without words it was, but the realm was not without communication to its creator.

Feeling a ripple within his realm, Morpheus was altered to the call of his realm, beckoning him to a section of the mountains where the frost fiends and creations resided. The coldest place in all the realm. Surely you would’t be this foolish! In a swirl of sand Morpheus teleported himself and Matthew to the edge of the steppe. He could feel your life force a little stronger now, but it was still so faint. Matthew let out a caw and dove forwards, dropping down to frosted ground to peck at your jacket.

“This is theirs!” The raven cried out, tiny black eyes looking further up the trail. He could see more of your clothes. “You don’t think they did this on purpose… do you?”

Morpheus didn’t reply, he simply stood forward at the increased pace. The further he and Matthew went, the more clothing items strewn on the ground they crossed the more concerned both beings became. Especially when Morpheus spotted your pants and shirt strew on an embankment of snow. You were almost naked and in this weather!? What were you doing with your being?? Rather than continuing to hurriedly walk, Morpheus disintegrated to sand and flew towards your rapidly fading presence. What he found shouldn’t have surprised him, but it sure sent him into a spiraling panic.

You were laying on your back, legs curled at the side and staring vacantly at the falling clumps of pristine dream snow. Your skin was practically blue, and Morpheus couldn’t even comprehend how your flesh had managed to turn that color given your natural complexion. But what caused the most dread and brewed the worst fears in the Endless was how you appeared to hardly even breathe. From behind, Matthew let out an alarmed squawk. Morpheus was acting before the raven could even exclaim a verbal surprise.

Materializing, the dream lord was instantly kneeling down and gathering your shivering body to wrap you firmly within his star laden coat. With you promptly bundled up, he took a half step in place, transporting himself and you to the safety of his palace and the warmth of your wing. He placed you on your bed before quickly removing his clothing. He was not going to los you to stubbornness in his own realm! So Morpheus joined you, whisking away the remaining cloth that barely covered your skin and cradled you tightly within his arms, willing all the warmth he and his realm had back into you.

For nearly a minute the Endless feared that you would succumb to the cold and he would lose you forever… but then you shifted within his arms and let out a small moan. The peaceful cold you had been basking in, had been indulging and succumbing to, was gone!

“No,” You faintly moaned to yourself, willing your mind to retreat back into that solace in which your heart and being didn’t have to feel so hurt. “No,”

“Yes,” Morpheus objected, pressing his face into the crown of your hair handholding you tighter in fear that you would squirm away and slip back into that deathly catatonia. “You will warm up and explain this to me, Y/N. You were but mere minutes from hearing the wings of my sister. You nearly succumbed to the violent cold in hell, why would you purposefully subject yourself to it within my realm!?”

“The cold is never violent,” Your pale lips whispered out, slurring the syllables slightly. “It is peaceful, and doesn’t hurt, and takes away the hurt. I was hurting so much, but not anymore…”

“This is killing you,” Morpheus ground out, hugging you tighter and drawing a hand across your frigid back. How could you possibly be this cold?

“I just want to sleep,” You sighed out, eyelashes fluttered as the drawl of soothing bliss and a pain free future tempted you once more. “Sleep, numb, so nice...” This time Morpheus raised his hand to grip your chin and pull your head back, making you grunt and blink.

“You are not allowed to fall asleep, Y/N. I forbid it,” He sternly decreed.

“Why do you care?” The words slipped from your lips as you looked into the fuzzy face of the one being that had managed to wound your heart like no other. You hated how the blissful numbness that had taken shelter within your heart was slowly disappearing. It was staring to hurt again. “You don’t want me, you don’t need me, you don’t lo—”

“Stop,” Morpheus hoarsely spoke, almost not believing the words tumbling from your mouth. What were you speaking of!? You were the very being that Morpheus felt like he could no live without! He wanted you, he needed you, he loved you with every grain of sand his anthropomorphic being had! “Why? Why would you do this to me? To the realm!? It was trying so hard to keep you from—” His words fizzled out to nothingness, lost to the sounds of your shivers and chattering teeth.

“You said you didn’t need my help,” You stated. “You avoided me until I forced your hand, and— and— it hurts so much to think that you don’t even consider me as a subject let alone a friend. I just wanted to stop hurting, stop feeling…. the cold, the numbness, it felt so nice. It took away my pain. I wanted that back.”

Morpheus felt as if his universe was crashing down around him. You believed that he did not wish for your presence within his realm? You believe that he thought so little of you that you were not worthy of commanding hand of his palace? You believe that he did not love you?? For a few moments the Endless nearly turned into a swirling storm of depressive and morosful sand, the sting of heartbreak almost running rampant. But then the being remembered that this wasn’t you rejecting him and his undying love, you simply believed he did not love and revere you.

“Do you know why I did not wrap you up in my coat?” He asked, resting his forehead against your own so you had to look into his eyes. You drowsily blinked at him but made no attempt to close your eyes or ignore his question. “I’d forgotten how much I enjoy the intimacy of embracing the one I care for most deeply. I crave your touch, Y/N. You are my fragile beloved treasure and I would be inconsolable should anything ever happen to you. I have not pursued a mortal in 10,000 years and I fear that I shall repeat my past mistakes.”

His softly spoken words, filled with sincerity, filled your mind until you forgot about your shivers, forgot about your heartache, forgot about the peaceful cold you had so stubbornly sought. Eyelashes fluttering as you started fighting against the drowsiness that filled your body, you let out a moan and slumped in place. You nearly killed yourself over a misunderstanding and an Endless with poor emotional intelligence.

“I beginning to think that we might have communication issues.”

Date Published: 12/28/23

Last Edit: 12/28/23

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#the sandman netflix #lord morpheus #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream the endless #morpheus #the sandman #dream of the endless

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irabelaswriting · 1 year

Text

influx

pairing: morpheus x f!reader | rating: E | words: 8.7k | ao3

tags: sexy dream stuff blurries the line between dreams and reality you say?, count me in, alternatively titled what no dick does to a mfer, service top dream, afab reader, oral sex, masturbation, sexual fantasies, pining, mentions of choking, mentions of spanking, mentions of public sex, no use of y/n

summary: "My name. You wondered about my name," the dream that is no longer a dream says. As plainly as possible, as if he's not a stranger in your home.

"Do- do you have one?"

"All beings do."

You meet a stranger in a dream.

And then you meet him again.

a/n: i am dipping my fat littles toes in this particular pond. hope y'all enjoy!<3 let me know what worked and what didn't!

It’s really starting to get cold out.

October has just rolled around – autumnal colors all around. Pumpkins freshly harvested from patches set out on the steps of the houses you pass, leaves slowly making their descent from tree crowns. A promise of frosts sits in the air; come morning, the cold would make the warm colors more vibrant.

If it gets too cold you might need to start commuting, you decide, no longer taking the oh-so familiar road you’ve incorporated into your daily routine for months now.

The streets are wide, a winding path you walk along – passing by garbage and street lights, small little shops and narrow alleyways just out of the corner of your eye every so often.

Every day, you walk down this road. It’s routine – just like how putting on socks or brushing your teeth is.

Yet, as you pass another alley, something stops you midstep.

Something about this particular alley on this particular day makes you turn your head as if you’d just caught the eyes of a long lost acquaintance across the room.

And unbidden, an image flickers across your mind.

Large hands pushing up your skirts, finding the gusset of your underwear between your thighs soaked through, all for him, deft fingers sliding beneath wet fabric. A teasing touch against you, the slick slide audible in the dark, quiet alley. Someone could find you, see you, if they had mind enough to just look hard enough for a moment longer.

Your heart skips a beat – the memory as clear as day on your retina.

As if it had been real.

The dreams… the visions, had started a while ago. Unbidden, as wet dreams – ugh – usually were. Of course, it was all just a normal part of being alive, you rationalized. Heated situations in a dream with a crush or someone whose outwardly attributes you liked more than the person themselves was a totally normal, natural response to non-reciprocated attraction.

What wasn’t normal was having them about a person you didn’t even know. And, that they were recurring.

Not one night of reprieve had been awarded to you since it all had first begun.

Every night, he visited you in your dreams.

The man in your dreams hadn’t been known to you. Well, not previously. Now, you felt as if you’d recognize him in a crowd, that you could pick him out in a lineup of all your previous lovers despite him not truly being one of them. Stoic and pale, tall and lithe, composed of lean muscles that rippled under smooth skin, with hands so very large in comparison to your own. A voice that whispered into your ear, deep and dark and holding promises of pleasure everytime it raked across your brain.

The first time you’d seen him it had been a seemingly ordinary dream. Usually, they’d be about losing all your teeth at once while simultaneously trying really hard at an exam in school only to realize you were taking it naked. All the people involved, witnesses to your embarrassment, were usually pieces of a puzzle coerced together simply under the guise that you had some bias from having them there.

Yet… the dream in particular had been nothing but ordinary; not even sexual. You had gone about your usual routine, said your usual hellos and goodbyes, walked on the very road you were trudging along right now, when he had caught your eye. A face in the crowd of muddled features.

He had stared back at you – with consciousness, a responsiveness that didn’t belong in dreams.

It had been impossible not to look back at him – meet his striking gaze.

One moment, he had been there, and in the next, he was gone.

They weren’t real, you tell yourself yet again, bending down, pretending to fix a shoelace in case some unbidden voyeur was privy to your mindless stop on the street. Above, a tree canopy rustles as a bird takes flight, the only evidence of it ever sitting there being the dark feather landing by your feet as you rise.

The way home is a winding one – but the scene replays in your head enough that you feel a sticky heat coil in the pit of your belly. A hunger wanting, no– needing to be slaked with the ease of your own fingers (all the while imagining someone else's) sliding across heated skin.

You think that you must've met him somewhere.

That your subconscious is pulling a mean prank on you with blurry half-imagined images of a man you might’ve maybe (hopefully) snogged on a night out and can’t recall more than that fuzzy encounter of.

That it’s not a stranger, but rather surely some acquaintance or a mutual friend of a friend you’ve been introduced to at a party and promptly forgotten the name of.

That you’ve somehow baked him into your subconsciousness like a calzone.

That you’re so starved for attention that you have wet dreams about the one guy who has proved to be somewhat of a constant in your life.

Good gods, were you really that starved for affection that you had wet dreams about a guy you’d only seen in your dreams?

Your depravity was endless, a bottomless pit.

Because it hadn’t happened just once – no, now, the image of him panting above you was etched to your mind as the code into your apartment complex was.

Finally, you reach your destination – home. You take the steps to your apartment two at a time, riled up by the promise of what awaits in the solace of your bedroom. The steps are made of polished limestone filled with fossilized ammonites that you’d otherwise stop and look at but you’re on a mission now.

Everything lays forgotten as you move into your abode, closing the door and securing it with a physical deadbolt. Then, the weight of the day hits you. A layer of grime and dust surely lingers on your skin, sweat and dirt that came with moving about your business–

A change of plans.

Instinctively, you move towards the bathroom, chucking clothing items as you go, leaving them for a future you to take care of.

You let the water get hot before getting in.

In the shower, you let yourself go, fingers slipping down between wet skin to an even wetter core, teasing yourself just slightly before really getting to work at easing the orgasm out of your body.

In your mind's eye, in your dreams, it’s easy to let fantasy do the work; change your position, have your hands tied or free at a mere whim, shoved faced down or facing your unknown, nameless lover.

It blurs together into a mess – but it’s orderly, kind of – every whim you have is met.

If you imagine him grabbing fistfulls of your hips and pushing down, spewing lewd vitriol against your ear – you get it.

If you imagine your hands tied and him using them for leverage until the change of altitude makes you woozy – you get that too.

Every urge is abid and sated, the fantasy adjusting at once depending on however you’re feeling inclined.

That’s the easy part, recalling the intimate moments as if they’ve been real, emulating his touch on your body.

His hand moving down along your naked front; cupping your pussy in his hand, fingers skirting along slick folds but being withholding, not giving you anything, not until you’re writhing in his grip, reduced into a needy, begging mess–

He talks, too, you recall, fingers picking up their pace – with a deep, baritone voice that ushers praises and harsh little words at just the right moment. Instantly, you incorporate it in your fantasy.

“So good,” he whispers by your ear as you titter on the precipice of yet another orgasm at his hands, fingers working inside you just so, “so good for me.”

No, take it slow, you inwardly scold. Prolong the pleasure just a bit longer. Listening to the constant stream of water running over your body and down down the drain, you steady yourself.

Rewinding, you alter the daydream.

Fingers pressing into you only after you’ve earned them on your knees – your reward a perfect curling motion that has you keening. A sound that only has him roughly pulling you deeper down on his fingers, your back arching as heady pleasure rolls over you in thick, heavy waves.

You moan into the air, air that’s filled with water vapor that condenses, droplets of saturated water that run down your bathroom mirror. Despite the water steadily streaming across your body, you feel the sensation of sweat beading behind your knees; a surefire way of predicting the impending orgasm. Swallowing thickly, fingers pick up their pace.

Hands tied tightly behind your back, large fingers skirting along your innermost thighs, grabbing fistfulls of plump, supple flesh, lightly smacking the fat of your ass, the soft waves of pain and pleasure making your belly coil together hotly. Knowing what’s to come when–

Just right, you curl your fingers, pinching a nipple simultaneously. Teasing at first, building up the anticipation of filling yourself up with your fingers, circling your core until you can’t take it any longer and give into the first few moments of blissful fullness.

One moment, on your back, the other, on your knees. Throat stuffed with cock and cum, and in the next–

Shamelessly moaning into the air, you goad yourself with more to tip over the edge.

His hand twisting in locks of hair, gently coaxing your head towards him, tucking his face against your shoulder, hand covering your mouth as he whispers for you to be quiet, pounding you through an orgasm in a dirty back alley.

Hips undulating, you tense up – voice vibrating in the humid air, reaching a crescendo.

Slender fingers circling your waist, before finally settling on your hips and pulling you down on his cock with soft, pliable resistance–

But it isn’t him. It isn’t real. Has never been.

You stop abruptly.

Defeat washes over you – and still, you try again, scratching at that particular itch, that particular daydream, yearning for the release.

The fall over the edge never comes. Blissful pleasure never arrives despite being right there, and soon the movement of your fingers is a chore, the throbbing in your lower belly almost hurting.

A groan leaves you, head against the bathroom tile, as you flex your cramping fingers, finally relenting. Panting now, hot all over, water still flowing freely across your body.

Only thing you were achieving now was running up your water bill.

Pride swallowed, you twist the blender into icy cold, dousing yourself until you’re nothing but a shivering mess.

You step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body, cursing yourself under your breath.

This was all so– so stupid.

It had never been an issue before. Really, you could bust a couple out in an evening if the mood struck – but since this all started, your statistics for masturbation ending with a climax had dwindled hard. Had the graph of your sexual habits been recorded somewhere it would’ve been exponential in it’s decline – off the charts with failure.

You take the disappointment and frustration out on your hair, doing your best in drying it before making your way into the living room. It’s cold there too, and you feel goosebumps rise along your arms, prickling on the back of your neck. Even the mess you’ve left for yourself to take care of annoys you, no help in bettering your rapidly souring mood. You kick a shapeless mass of clothing into a corner, trying to stop the beast in your belly from blossoming and tearing through.

One blanket secured later, you plop down into the sunken down couch – exhausted. Still shivering, you turn on a rerun of some show you’ve already seen a hundred times on Netflix.

All in all – it serves as a little distraction from your already wandering thoughts.

The failed orgasm is still lingering in the back of your mind, a steady thumping in your core that won’t go away with anything other than time. You don’t click the little skip intro prompt that pops up this time; and boredom soon takes over as a scene you know by heart starts playing. With a sigh, you turn over, starting a mindless scroll on your phone instead, nuzzling into the couch that’s finally starting to warm up your shivering body. The show provides a soft chatter in the background, filling the void with some non-tangible noise – a mere background buzz.

Body heavy, you sink down, down, until there’s nothing but the soft embrace of sleep to catch you.

Bent over a desk, cheek pressed into unrelenting varnished wood, slender fingers around your neck as he thrusts inside you, buried to the hilt with one languid roll of his hips. A deep groan ringing through the air, your own sounds muted from his grip around your windpipe.

Your ass high in the air, fingers digging into the divot where thigh meets hips, one large palm ghosting over the round surface of your rear, rising up to give the already tender flesh another well placed hit.

The same rough pace still persists, forcing stuttering little words from your lips, fingers now digging into the softness of your sides. Livid bites left along your neck and shoulders, a hand slipping between your thighs. A sheen of sweat covers your back, as well as the forehead that’s pressed to a shoulder blade.

The gasp that escapes you as the room contorts until it’s no longer recognizable echoes through the void. It’s not even your bed anymore, the sheets you’d hand picked out of the bargain barrel replaced with the softest of silk that flows like water between your clutching fingers.

He’s in front of you, above you–

Behind you.

Fingers tug the towel wrapped around your body off.

You yelp – instantly going to cover yourself.

“Nothing I haven’t already seen,” a murmured whisper intones, goosebumps rising along your skin. “Don’t be shy.”

His hands are cold – in clear difference to your already much too hot body – and your back arches as if to escape from his light touch against your ribcage.

Instead, he’s behind you, and you’re in his lap, with nowhere to run now.

You try again to cover up, but large hands grasp your wrists and pull them back.

Finally, you relent, relaxing.

“There we go,” right by your ear, you hear him, feel him rest his chin on your shoulder, peeking down the valley of your now bared breasts.

Eyes glimmering like stars watching as his own fingers trace gently along bare thighs before finally pushing apart the sticky folds of your pussy. Soft, teasing graces toying with you before finally pushing inside. Curling just right, adding just the right pressure, until you throw your head back against his shoulder, a leg darting out for purchase against the incoming wave of pleasure, thumb flicking against your clit just as he finds that spot inside you–

He stops.

You whine – almost crying from the let down, feeling that fire die down by not being tended to.

“So desperate,” he chides, lips barely tracing yours as you jerk more, convulsing in his hands from being denied. “Still not enough?”

“No– please, more,” you murmur against soft lips, speech rendered into a mess of sloppy and slurred kisses. It could never be enough – you want him, you want to beg for him, want a name to call out into the night, some title to give him more than this shape that comes to you each night.

Your hand digs into him, keeping him close. As if he would disappear if you didn’t.

You want to know him – taste him, share more than just this simple fantasy with him – you want more, crave it even as he’s on top of you, inside you–

“Tell me, do you think you’re awake?”

His voice echoes in the nothingness surrounding you.

What did he mean by that?

He has deviated from the usual course, the script that you’ve willfully, intently, set in your mind and eagerly fulfilled your role in–

“Realizing you’re dreaming wakes most people up.” His hands are on you again, moving across your skin until he’s right by your ear, whispering. “Interesting.”

Halfway – that is how far your fingers, reaching out to grab his own, make it before the world tilts and changes again.

With a start, you wake up, immediately sitting up from the pile of blankets on top of you.

Blearily, you blink.

Are you still watching? Netflix questions, mockingly.

You– you must’ve fallen asleep – the throb between your legs has only intensified, coupled with your heart hammering in your throat and you know– you remember what he had said–

Out of the corner of your eye, something moves.

A man is in your living room.

Not just any man – it’s him.

As clear as day – across the room from you. Dressed in all black and staring at you with familiar, gleaming eyes.

“Um,” you start, heart hammering hard behind your ribcage, working overtime in keeping you alive, “c-c-can I h-help you?”

Ah. Yes, the good ol’ fight or flee or freeze or fawn or–

Customer service.

You clutch the blanket around you even tighter, backing up into the corner of the couch – hyperaware and noticing everything in what feels like a millisecond.

How you’ve slept through at least two episodes of the show you put on. That the street lights outside your windows are bright, casting luminosity on the streets below. That there’s no immediate sign of a break in, no broken door hanging off its hinges. That you’re in nothing but a towel and covered by a blanket.

And, that the man currently across your living room is staring at you.

“My name. You wondered about my name,” the dream that is no longer a dream says. As plainly as possible, as if he’s not a stranger in your home.

“Do–do you have one?”

“All beings do.“

At a loss for words for a moment, mind racing (how did he know that? followed by a frantic oh god why is he here? and how did he even get in?) you offer him your own name, and the side of his mouth twitches upwards, as if he’s known it all along.

“I am Dream of the Endless. Lord of dreams and nightmares, and ruler of the Dreaming.” His voice is deep and calm, much calmer than you yourself feel at the moment. A rich baritone that carries across the room despite him not even raising his voice.

It sounds… pompous, but not untrue. Still, you can’t keep yourself from asking. “Any more titles?”

“Morpheus. Lord Morpheus.”

You hadn’t seriously considered that there’d be more.

“... The Dreaming?”

“Yes, it is my realm, where I hold sovereignty,” he explains, “I am the maker of dreams and nightmares for all beings of this plane.”

For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone insane. If not getting your rocks off for the past weeks has changed your physiology somehow, that you’re so pent up that you’re hallucinating this. That this isn’t real – just a dream of a dream to soothe your already fragile, underfucked psyche.

“Sleep well?”

Your breath hitches in the otherwise silent room at the question.

At once, you’re aware that he knows. He knows. He’s solidifying that fact with that question – a question he probably knows the answer to too, and is simply asking because your inherent uneasiness of the situation must also be known to him.

Or, as you might suspect when your eyes flick to meet his own and notice the hint of smugness present in them, he is simply asking to embarrass you further.

“Ah, yes, uh,” the heat on your cheeks is mortifying, shame welling up at the base of your throat, “I’m sorry. If– if you’re able to see them and all–”

“I do.”

No need in explaining what they are, then.

“So sorry about that, erm,” the words fumble out of your mouth, “they’re just– fantasies, right, my, uh– my l-lord?”

You probably actually don’t need to address him as such, one of the many titles, but something about him demands your attention, your respect. Is it shame? A part of you cringes inwardly, finding it difficult to meet his hard eyed stare. Eyes that are simply observing you – not eating you alive, not even undressing you. Yet you get the distinct feeling of being under a microscope, every part of you being dissected. Evaluated.

Deciding to err on the side of caution – he is, afterall, a stranger – because you’re not completely sold on what he’s selling you.

Which is an explanation to all of this.

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head. “Are you– are you the one doing this to me?”

Dark brows pull down. For a moment, you think he’s cross with you–

Maybe that’s just the guilt rolling together in your stomach, all bile and acid, because he knows. He knows everything. He’s the unwilling participant, no– object, of your fantasies.

“... These dreams are–” Morpheus pauses.

Filthy, dirty, wholly indecent, you mind intones on its own, preemptively wincing.

”Very imaginative. Thoughts that are all your own work.”

No hammer falls to sentence you – judgment simply not present in his tone.

Unbeknownst (or simply not caring) of your internal dilemma, Morpheus takes in your space, the adjoining kitchen and door to your bedroom before continuing, voice the same even tone. “My involvement never stemmed greater than simply… appearing. It seems you’ve grown attached.”

Attached to the idea of him, just as you’d find a kind stranger enticing. It wasn’t… had it truly been him?

“I just thought–” you don’t even know what you’ve been thinking, how you’ve cause this more than– “that since I daydreamed about it– it could alter what I dreamed of while sleeping–”

“It does. Not to this extent, usually, but you seem to have acquired a gift not many are even born with.” Morpheus says, carefully stepping over the heap of clothes you kicked earlier. “A form of lucid dreaming.”

“... I’m shaping my dreams?” You had seen a couple of videos on lucid dreaming during your teenage years. Followed the seemingly simple instructions a lady in harem pants had listed in a 16 minute long youtube video – but to no avail. Now, however, you would envision scenarios, make up context for your fantasies, was that what he meant?

“Are you surprised?” Morpheus asks, head tilted to the side slightly. “Every day life affects dreams, yes, even fantasies and wishes do. That is not the unusual part.”

Pieces of a puzzle started to form a cohesive picture – you couldn’t control what happened in your dreams as much as you could perhaps entice a certain end to happen. Set one ball rolling and hoping it triggered a response in kind.

Maybe, if you could still find it, you should leave a comment on that video praising its effectiveness.

“Willing them to happen as you see fit, however, is.”

Immediately, you think back on the dream you’d just been pulled out of rather roughly – where you’d been denied, where he had denied you–

“That is why I’m here.” He answers your unasked question as he steps further into your living room, continuing. “It’s usually a gift sought out and refined by dark arts practitioners, not by… lonely girls.” Morpheus almost scoffs a bit at that, as if he’s noticed the singular plate drying on your dish rack, the adjoining single pair of cutlery and glass from last night's dinner, and realized exactly what you are.

Now, you glower at him. You weren’t lonely in many ways of your life – you had friends, family, hell, even coworkers who all adored you. It was just… a lonely life in one particular department, one that you weren’t fully ready to admit to even really coveting.

Yet he isn’t outright judging you – nor the contents of your dreams. Moreso, he seems mildly annoyed at being pulled into this.

That wasn’t wholly true though, was it? No, he had done this – he was the weird magic dream guy, not you.

“I didn’t want this,” you almost hiss back at him, “you’re the one– who's done this– you’re the reason I can’t–”

The words hang in the air, unfinished.

–can’t get my rocks off.

You don’t want to say that – to frame it that way, to admit it.

Some part of your subconsciousness obviously found him desirable, attractive – you couldn’t keep that from him, even now, as he imposed himself in your apartment and had almost scared you half to death – because he had been in every single dream since you’d first laid your eyes on him. Appeared in them, he had said, as if he was just a supporting role in all your fantasies. Knows about the predicament the dreams leave you in every morning – has to know.

Instead, you just glare at him now, grit your teeth. Accusingly. “Fix it.”

At your words, he looks like he’s on the verge of an emotion – but like he can’t decide on which one. Incredulity and genuine curiosity both flit over his stoic features; you dare order him? as well as clear unfeigned interest that that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“As I said,” he finally says after a moment, “you’ve grown attached.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You mortals do like excuses.”

Instantly, you regret all the very good things you’ve inwardly thought of him, a flash of annoyance welling up inside of you. Morpheus was certainly much ruder like this than in your dreams, where he was all willful, enthusiastic compliance to your whims. You suck your teeth at him. “Why are you even here?”

“I have already told you. It’s a phenomenon rarely seen, and I’ve come to inspect it further.”

Describing it like you’re nothing more than bacteria on a petri dish, a mere body ready for autopsy – clinical, medical, distanced.

“And you’re doing that by… breaking and entering my home?” You look away from him, fighting against the flush of emotion moving up your shoulders and neck. “Could’ve just knocked on my door instead of sneaking up on me in my sleep.”

“Only one of those statements is true.”

You’re just about to question which one he meant when you note the faint lilt of amusement in his tone.

You don’t need to see him to know that he’s pressing closer to where you’re still sprawled out on the couch.

“Here I thought you were inviting me over when you asked for more.”

Your head whips back to him – just to find him peering down at you.

Much closer than before.

Tendrils of heat sink their clutches into you at once.

“I can’t help but wonder… if you got a taste of the real thing, would it stop? Would you stop calling me to come fill you up in the middle of the night?” Leaning down, his fingers wrap around your chin. “I do have a realm to tend to, other duties to… see to.”

The shift in the air is palpable.

Your mouth is so dry now. This feels so much more real than anything else before – you’re conscious, this is not a dream, you finalize like a mantra, fingernails digging into your palms.

A light slap to your cheek, ordering you to open up your mouth, to show him his spend on your tongue before being allowed to swallow.

The image had come unbidden – that it’s a particularly degrading one is even more mortifying. Pupils blown wide, you peer up at him through your lashes.

“Even now, you want it.” His thumb brushes against the plump of your lower lip as he regards you. His tone indicates that he’s almost… surprised at it, your willingness.

Embarrassed, you come to your own defense.

“I don’t.” You lie.

A peculiar sound leaves him – something halfway between a scoff and a laugh.

“You are as predictable here as you are in your dreams,” he says, sounding far too amused for your liking, thumb sweeping along your cheekbone.

Then, he kisses you, all slow and soft.

The protest that had sat on the tip of your tongue is swallowed down.

One hand curls in the front of his shirt, the other wrapping around a bicep reached out to support himself on the couch’s backrest, searching for purchase. The rest of your body freezes, not yet answering the kiss in kind.

Eyes squeezing shut, you try making sense of this, this whole situation. The interest that’s been rewarded you has been for reasons you barely understand, abilities you didn’t even know you possessed in the first place–

At once, you sink into the couch pillows, escaping the kiss but not the hand that has settled on the back of your neck. Still, it lets you fall back with no resistance.

He – Morpheus, you inwardly remind yourself of his name – hovers above you, tilting his head to the side imploringly. Like a crow would, or how dogs do at funny sounds.

Swallowing uncomfortably, you break the gaze he has you in. Despite that, his eyes stay on your face, pinning you to the couch as much as the weight of him above you does.

At first, you don’t know how to put the words that sit on the forefront of your mind. You were overthinking this, you were thinking far too little, you were–

“What you said before… Am I controlling you? H-have I been controlling you?” Your eyes search Morpheus' face.

He snorts. “You are not nearly powerful enough for that.”

Good to know, you think, shifting beneath him, still. At least there’s that.

Even with his body hovering above you, with layers of clothes and fabric separating your bodies, you feel yourself flush, an instinctive reaction to him, the object of all your desires and pining, being so close, so real.

After a moment of silence, you start again. “You’re doing this to make it stop? Will it work?”

Morpheus seems to weigh his options a bit – all of them, the consequences of whatever reply he’ll give you obviously fluttering across his mind – before he goes on.

“It is… a working theory. If simply fulfilling your imaginations in the Dreaming would have been enough to keep you satiated,” he lingers on the word enough that you feel a fresh flush travel up your shoulders, “then I would worry about how much power you’ve already managed to steal from me.” After a moment’s longer deliberation, he adds: “... Honestly, it is seldom something like this occurs.”

“I haven’t stolen anything.” You huff. You hadn’t willfully robbed him of anything.

“Maybe not. Perhaps it was a gift.” Fingers trail up your bare arm, goosebumps rising in its wake, his eyes following the path he traces. Almost contemplatively, as if he’s just seen you for the first time, he goes on. “When I first felt the promise within you as you dreamt… it was a mistake showing myself in your dreams. Now, I am simply dealing with the consequences of my own recklessness.”

Reassurement aside, it is also a bit gratifying, knowing that he’s at your beck and call. That he’s here because of you – because it’s you. That the interest is mutual, in some capacity.

That this isn’t a pity fuck – not one solely reserved for lonely girls who happen to call the Lord of Dreams into their own little fantasies. This was as much him as it was you.

“Then– take it back.”

“Oh, I am eager to make sure it is returned to where it belongs,” the slightest uptick of his mouth punctates the last bit, a promise of imminent closeness, the word stressed with weight as he leans down to whisper right by your ear, “for the both of us.”

And even though he’s kissed you hundreds of times in countless dreams – this first, proper one is tentative, uncertain. A chaste press of his lips to your own, all soft and unimposing.

Searching for any lingering doubts, making sure–

A pause follows as your eyes meet again. Morpheus pulls back slightly, brows tugging down again. Instantly, your arms move on their own accord, wrapping around his neck. You pull him back down, into another kiss, this one claiming more, allowing more. Fighting against the smile you feel spread across your lips when he answers the kiss with the same fervor is hopeless. At once, fire starts to spread under your skin, cinders smoking in your belly, his hands clutching you against him in return.

He tastes soft, like rainwater and fog, and dark and deep like wine, musky and minty all at once. Something to get drunk on, lost in. Nothing like you could ever conjure up yourself.

Your hands leave his neck – moving down his collar between layers of fabric and shoulder blades, feel them move as he settles against you, hands adjusting you underneath him, scratch your nails against whatever skin he’s allowing you to see, to touch. Searching for a definite clutch to assure you that it’s real. As if on cue, he lets the dark coat fall off him, your eager hands just as helpful as his own when in return he makes short work of the fabric between you. The towel falls off your body as easily as it had in your dream, discarded and out of sight.

Despite yourself, you keen into the kiss, feeling a soft haze settle into your mind, as if you’re on the verge of slipping into easy sleep, hitting your senses and spreading through you like the first warmth of a bath.

It’s delicious, languid bliss.

Bodies molding against each other, settling into the natural curve of each other, thighs spreading to let him between them; teeth and tongue and lips mingling together in the kiss. Your fingers tread through the hair at the nape of his neck, humming softly when he pulls back from the kiss.

Slender fingers dig into bare skin, his hands maneuvering you beneath him. They touch every inch of skin within reach; the pads of his fingers dragging against hip bones, along every rib, between your bare breasts and trailing along the natural curve of them.

Finally, his hand sweeps across your neck, the tips of his fingers running along the column of your throat before lightly tracing your collarbone. When the hand pulls back, it’s replaced with his mouth finding the side of your neck, teeth biting down. Your breath hitches from the sting, clutching at him even harder as a delicate sound leaves his own lips.

“What do you want?” Morpheus mummers against your ear, lips brushing against the sensitive skin. “Ask and I’ll give.”

“Mouth,” you whisper out, breathlessly, “I want your mouth on me.”

He must know what you meant, where you mean.

Yet the path there is tortuous and slow.

Arms unwrap around him to give him freedom to travel the path further down, another press of his lips to the intimately hidden skin behind your ears, your clavicle and sternum given the same attention. Little love bites left in his wake, never hard enough to bruise or break the skin even if they make you squirm beneath him.

Finally, he finally seals his lips around one stiff nipple without anymore of the slow, teasing buildup. Toying with the hard nub with lips and tongue, teeth nipping lightly, shockwaves of warm pain and pleasure spreading out from your chest, curling in on itself deep in your abdomen. It’s not until you start to shake and whine earnestly that he switches over and lavishes its twin with the same attention, kneading the other in his broad hand.

Your fingers tread through dark hair, urging him down with more force than needed to further incite him downwards. Even as he maneuvers you easily, your fingers fist in the back of his collar, tugging upwards before he catches on and lets you drag the shirt off him.

When he finally relents, it almost takes you by surprise. Large hands get a hold of your hips, hauling you down until you hang off the edge of the couch, before letting them settle on the back of your knees. The soft pressure of his forearms urges them up, like you’re nothing but a doll in his hand, tilting your pelvis up while he simultaneously sinks down his knees. Hearing his breathing deep at the visual of your spread legs, center slick and heated, is almost as gratifying as the swipe of his thumb against your clit that follows. Eyes locked with yours, he tastes the wetness as your mouth falls open as a new wave of want rushes through you, hips arching up to entice him into hurrying up.

As if on demand, a large hand circles around a thigh, butterflying out against the softness of your belly, a throaty hum leaving Morpheus.

It’s a visual for you too – seeing him on his knees, framed by soft thighs, eyes gleaming as he finally leans down–

Slowly, a silken, dexterous heat envelopes your clit.

The sound that leaves you is desperate; long and pitched low in your throat, the joints in your fingers almost locking with how you tense up. It nearly hurts with how good it feels – and you let it be known, vocal cords not able to keep in the loud moans. Thighs clamp shut around him, starting to squirm with a needy gasp as his tongue flutters over your clit in broad, slow strokes. His grip tightens around your thighs, giving a hard squeeze, the soft pressure on your belly increasing.

It’s almost impossible to not tilt your hips up and meet the unhurried laps of his tongue, and it’s almost harder to remain unmoving when you notice the prickly friction of stubble across your innermost thighs. Not a wholly unpleasant sensation but rather… tickling. The soft laugh that makes it past your lips as you squirm yet again is rewarded with a hard stare and an even harder hold circling your thighs, keeping them open as he pushes you further into the couch. A silent order to keep still.

You bite your lip as he uses his teeth softly against your thigh, fingers flexing in the upholstery below you. Morpheus has given you all the incentive to obey.

Not until you're well and properly still does he move again.

He’s warm, not at all like in your dreams, and he’s velveteen against you; tongue rolling in repeated soft circles against that bundle of nerves, swollen with need.

You think that there’s an easy way around this all – Morpheus doesn’t need to do… any of this. Not only the reassurement he had so willingly provided after you’d shown the slightest of doubt, but also–

You’d been slick and ready from the moment you woke up. Really, the dream he had pulled you out of had been more than enough to ensure that. This was as needless as an AC on the North Pole. Maybe, it’s simply because you asked.

Yet, as you peer down at him again at a particularly long stroke of his tongue, you meet his eyes yet again. The striking eyes are already watching you; taking it in, watching you come apart underneath him. A new rush of arousal surges through you, wetter at the mere thought that he’s enjoying this, that this is for him as much as it’s for you – following your whims, making your fantasies come alive–

Morpheus’ motivations are a mystery to you – and impossible to focus on, too busy letting the high tide of pleasure swallow you whole. His tongue circles around your center without pushing past the ridge into you, so close in giving you something to tighten around.

“Please,” you gasp, hands twitching with need to hold onto something, to ground yourself with, to fill you up with, “I– I need–”

Two fingers sink into you.

Instinctively, one hand tangles in his disorderly dark hair, anchoring him closer, harder into you, the other grabbing his hand splayed out across your belly still.

Morpheus’ smug hum vibrates through you, nose brushing against your clit as you start to stutter.

Soft and easy, meeting plump resistance and your own tightening walls, soft and wet heat, a slick sound as he starts moving the digits. Lazy, languid movements that give you delicious stretch, friction. A steady rhythm that’s just what you need – flashes of electricity moving up your spine with every slow pump of his fingers.

Then, they curl into a coaxing motion, and the pressure is almost punishing, coupled with his lips locking around your clit again, sucking as he repeatedly taps against that soft place inside of you.

It’s devastating.

“I’m– I’m gonna– oh–” you breathe out, managing to unravel your voice from where it’s stuck in your throat, everything seizing up into one big wave, grip on his hair turning steely. He doubles down – giving you just what you need, latching onto anything you’ll give him.

Hot white lightning floods your veins – and the pent up weeklong backlog of being denied bursts through, wringing itself out, tightening up like a vice. Stars sparkle behind your eyes, a broken moan leaving your lips as you twist on the fingers working the orgasm through your entire system, legs trembling. All of your synapses are on fire, feeling every precise flick over the oversensitized nub wreak havoc on your nerve endings, every crook of his fingers prompting an influx of heat.

The force of it nearly makes you fall off the couch.

Luckily, his hands are there, holding you down, securing you against the furniture so you have no wiggle room, unable to do anything but take the shockwaves that flood your system, no choice but to just take the fingers working the orgasm through you.

When your muscles finally relax and you go limp in his hold, you fill your lungs with oxygen, chest rising and falling. Panting into the air, feeling the aftershocks sending flickers of electricity through muscles contracting. The scent of sex hangs heavy in the air, the faint soapy smell of your showergel, as well as something wholly different from yourself. The hand on your belly moves, and you notice that you’re still clutching at Morpheus’ hair. You let the cramp like hold relent, and he unlatches himself from between your still shaking thighs.

A line of gossamer slick still connects his mouth to your core. Thoughtlessly, you dart your hand out and collect the wetness with your fingers. All motor skills leave you in his hands – your body acting on its own accord rather than how you want it to.

Heady eyes move between the slippery fingers and your own gaze, peering up at you through thick, dark lashes. With the barest of motion, he takes the digits into his mouth.

Eyes wide, pupils blown, you watch the peek of pink tongue run over your fingers, heat coiling together tightly in the pit of your abdomen. His lips are warm, soft against the pads of your fingers, as he pulls back, drinking in the look plastered on your face.

“You are just as demanding here as you are in your dreams,” he says, sounding too amused for your liking. A secret joke you’re not wholly in on.

You watch him rise up between your thighs, eyes immediately lowering–

Now, you notice that he’s as naked as you are as he stands between your spread legs. And he wasn’t done with you yet.

You gasp when he pulls you up with him. He grabs just below your knees as he stands, adjusting you until your knees bend inwards towards your head.

A thin, barely there, trail of hair on his chest and stomach catches your eyes, almost translucent and unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it. You run your hand over it, fingers skim along his adonis belt, following the natural curve of the bone and down. “Imagine if I was more demanding,” you say, a bit breathlessly, watching alabaster skin twitch under your touch, the flesh that’s stretched over bones and lean muscle, pressing your fingers to his heart to really see if there’s something there, “what then.”

In return, Morpheus grabs your wandering hand, pressing his lips to the back of your fingers hastily. The both dark and bright glimmering eyes catch your own. The cosmos must be in them, you think, as they sparkle with something much more indelible than you could ever hope to be.

What you’re thinking of, the realization that hit you, must show on your face, because the faintest of smiles graces his lips as he traps the wandering hand to your side, stopping any further investigation of him.

“More,” he finally answers, as something blunt and slick presses between the apex of your thighs, the glide made easy by your own wetness, when it catches on the ridge and–

“I’d give you more.”

With one surefire thrust, he’s filled you to the hilt – the baritone groan leaving him reverberating through the room.

Your mouth agape as your vocal cords work, but no sound comes.

Quickly, you snag your fingers around his wrist, around one bicep, and his own fingers dig into soft, pillowy flesh. He pulls back and thrusts down, the stretch of him instantly making your legs quiver, supporting himself on the edge of the couch, easily maneuvering a leg over his shoulder.

Staggered at first, the pace he sets has your eyes rolling with every inch pushed into your waiting cunt. A groan rattles through his narrow chest, cock seated inside of you, grinding his pelvis against your own. You moan, hips arching up, plainly asking for more. And he grants it; the leg over his shoulder that he’s keeping there almost cramps up from the pleasure, and you feel a hot breath let out against the soft skin behind your knee, his lips pressed against the skin he’s able to reach.

He fucks you through the couch.

At least, that's what it feels like.

It’s a pounding – the couch springs underneath you doing little to absorb the shock as you take his cock, barely offering any plush comfort. He fills you completely, reaching deep and hitting something completely shattering within you. Broad hands grip your thighs, keeping you flush and filled completely with him. Every snap of his hip brushes against your clit, adding little bursts of stars behind your eyelids.

When you start calling out his name, begging for more, he murmurs against your skin, back bending to kiss the salty sheen off your brows and collarbones.

And suddenly, you’re caged under him.

Slender fingers settle into the plump of your rear, and instinctively your ankles lock over narrow hips. Letting gravity do the work as he thrusts down, Morpheus drives the pace even further, making your wail and digging your nails into his back, shoulders, anything you can reach, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

When his mouth covers yours it’s mostly to keep you quiet, you’re sure.

It’s comforting – the heat of him above you, covering you like how blankets of snow cover the streets in the middle of winter. Finding comfort in being wanted and needed, coveted, in the way that you feel you need him, cling to him, head thrown back as his strokes hit deeper and deeper, whispers of encouragement leaving his lips all the while.

What was tentative and searching at first turns into a fervor; more, you think, more.

Even as he surrounds you utterly, completely. In every breath, you smell him, taste him, feel him as he rocks into you. Lips eagerly opening for each other without any hesitation, a hot need, a want, rising in your chest. Every ounce of closeness that he offers, you take and swallow whole. Nails dig into his shoulders, as his own fingers do the same to your hips, grip on the cusp of bruising.

You feel bent in half – his forehead against yours, a salt sweat covering your body. You start to moan in earnest; you feel yourself clutching around him, the first warning pulses of an orgasm rippling through from your toes to the veins in your throat seizing up. All the air rushes through your lungs – up and out, twisting into a shout.

Every movement is precise, every caress and kiss and bite he rewards across your skin serving a purpose. It’s perfect; it has you keening, writhing like molten metal has filled your veins. The air is filled with your quick, rapid breathing. His own low, dark grunts and praises against the shell of your ear are private, reserved only for you. Your toes curl as if there’s hot sand below them, like you’re racing across the hot dunes of a desert, like you’re falling into quicksand and sinking down into the hot center of the earth. The way he takes you is rigorous; leaving nothing behind to have you wanting. It’s deliberate, knowing, of both you and your wants, and you think that anyone else would pale in comparison to him.

No one would – could – ever compare.

The second orgasm unfurls, wicked and hard, crashing through you. It burns a hole in the pit of your stomach, clutching at Morpheus, back arching to keep him close–

It doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop, not relenting an inch as he pushes you over the edge you’ve been begging for, imagining for weeks on end. Every thrust tightens your cunt until everything inside you is fierce and tense, chest heaving with almost seismic force, wet and hot bliss.

It’s devastating, utterly destructive – complete pleasure that soars through you.

Head dropping to your shoulder, Morpheus drags himself over that same brink as soon as you’re done toppling over, hips stuttering against your own until his pelvis presses against yours and stays there, grinding deep with a throaty groan.

Gradually, things start to return to you; Morpheus' forehead pressed to your sternum, the tranquility around you, watching dust particles dance in the soft light coming from outside your window. The breath he takes as he holds you still is deep, slowly pulling himself out of you. Immediately, gravity makes itself known by the sticky wet that runs down your innermost thighs. You shudder at it, the unpleasant feeling of cum slowly leaking out of you.

It doesn’t matter though – no, you couldn’t do anything about it if you wanted to.

You’re boneless. Joints all locked up, stiff from the position, panting breath rising towards the ceiling. A dull throb still persists between your legs, aftershocks of the way your muscles have been working, the comedown starting to kick in.

The couch is worn down, sunken in after years of diligent use.

But at the moment, it’s the most comfortable thing you've ever felt.

And you sink down into it, let yourself be taken into Morpheus arms as he leans down into the couch.

You groan into the air, hand thrown over your eyes.

“Sated.” Morpheus’ voice is soothing, but the statement is plain. As if you’re some fairytale beast he’s just offered a sacrificial lamb to, and was now awaiting a boon. Pleasure lingers, as does the weight of him, the feel of him inside you. His voice is smooth, lulling, a promise of the sleep that would come, eventually – as inevitable as dreams themselves.

Fleetingly, you wonder if he’d still meet you there, in that inbetween place, where all your previous encounters had taken place.

“Are you serious? Who– where else could I get fucked like this? I’m ruined.” You moan, like you’re a maiden who's just been sneaked out of her virginal purity by showing too much ankle.

The thought, that certain consequence, hasn’t seemed to dawn on the King of Dreams, Lord Dream or whatever it was. Or at least, that’s what his silence tells you. When no reply comes after another moment, you part the fingers across your eyes, just in time to see him move.

And then, he’s rolling you over, hovering above you as you lay beneath him, heart suddenly stuck in your throat – staring down into your eyes intently.

“Maybe,” Morpheus closes in on you again, leaning over you, lips barely skimming yours as he follows up that particular thought, “this shouldn't be the last time then?”

---

i read a total of three (3) morpheus/reader fics before i started writing this. happy sandman renewal and what not!!

is the ending a set up for a sequel? well,,,

let me know what worked and what didn’t! <3

EDIT: this ended up getting a sequel! read halcyon here

#morpheus/dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x reader #the sandman #morpheus smut #dream of the endless #my writing #influx #yes i posted this a couple hours ago on ao3. what about it #anyways tags are for secrets;#yes this would absolutely not leave me until i wrote it. it eroded my brain until it was out #it's filthy. wholly indecent.#am not abandoning any other fics for this dw dw this just needed to come out in a cathartic fashion #mdni

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anjelicawrites · 2 months

Text

The oak and the wind

Paring: Abraham x reader

Synopsis: Abraham comes and go in your life, and that’s all right

Warnings: kissing, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, kissing, biting, a dash of spanking.

A/N: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

The rain is pelting against the window as the weather progresses from quiet to a violent spring storm that makes the wind howl through the trees around your cottage. On the ground floor the typewriter lays abandoned on the typing desk, the sentence you were working on half written when Abraham came knocking on your door.

You snuggle closer to his warmth trying to focus on his deep, slow breathing under your ear, to go back to sleep; the branches slapping against the windows have awoken you and Lord Morpheus evades you now.

You’re not sure when Abraham has arrived, he comes and goes like the wind, knocking on your door and then disappearing for months; it surprises you that he is sleeping by your side: he doesn't, usually, preferring to go back to his caravan.

You wonder why he’s still in your bed, he’s not the kind of man to talk about himself, or his feelings, all you have to go is your hypothesis, and that’s fine: you’ve never expected anything more than this from Abraham.

You know he cares, in his own way, by bringing you fresh wild game or chopping wood for you, but he’s never asked you to leave with him, even though you could, you’re an author, all you need is your typewriter and a fresh ream of paper. But that’s not who you two are, how you two operate: if he’s the wind, you’re the centennial oak with its roots firmly planted on the ground.

You never wanted more from him than what he’s happy to give you, and it’s the same for him, who fully knows you can’t live without walls around you, and a roof and pipes and all the issues that come with living in a house.

Quietly you slip from Abraham’s loose embrace; since the story in your head doesn't want to let you sleep, you opt to go downstairs and make yourself a cup of tea.

You decide to wear only the dressing gown, spring has almost arrived and the storm hasn’t lowered the temperature drastically, plus you’re going to rekindle the fire that’s now just embers: that’s going to be enough when you’re going to sit on the old armchair with your notebook, curled in your knitted blanket.

You still have ideas swimming in your brain, a whole chapter outlined, which you didn’t have the chance to write because Abraham popped up unexpectedly; unfortunately your typewriter is too noisy to be used without risking waking him up, tomorrow you’ll type everything down but you need this chapter on paper.

Downstairs you don't even bother with the lights, the whole system is faulty and it doesn't work when it rains: another big expense that could be taken care of, if only your mother and her horrid second husband would stop playing the lord and lady of the mansion and downsize to a cottage, but no, you have the title and shoulder the expenses, but they need to keep up appearances.

The kitchen is built where the windows into the property are, which give you the chance to stare into the dark as you wait for the water to boil.

“Why are you awake?”

Abraham’s sleepy voice has you jump out of your skin, a hand clutching the neck of the dressing gown as your heart tries to explode out of your chest.

“Abraham!” You shriek, still breathless.

He is midway down the stairs, he’s wearing only his briefs and his usually perfectly styled hair are now sticking everywhere, softening his stern visage, giving him a youthful and endearing appearance.

His naked feet slap on the ancient floorboards as he advances towards you, his hand scratches his muscled chest, marked with new ink you’ve haven’t traced yet with your fingertips. His tanned skin and the chain around his neck seem to glow in the low light of the fire and the candles, the blue of his eyes still clouded with sleep.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Abraham squints and you, to then shrug: he is used to the cold and your cottage is always too warm for his tastes.

“You haven’t answered my question, love.”

He stalks towards you, wide shoulders and tick muscles, his powerful energy filling every corner of your home.

“I couldn’t sleep, the story doesn’t want to let me go.”

“I don’t know how you make it. Pull stories out of your brain.”

You stare at him, surprised, you two rarely talk about yourselves.

“I have no idea. No author does. We are merely the puppets of the muse that’s playing with us.”

“You are making no sense.”

Abraham stares at you quizzically: you’re such an enigma when you talk about your job, if writing can be called that. Most of the time you sound like a maniac, or someone possessed, plus he’s seen you wander about the woods while reading, and how you don’t fall on your face is beyond him.

You’re strange and different from everyone he knows and he’s often wondered if that's the reason he comes back to you, to your bed that smells of lavender and old books.

“Cuppa?”

You pop an old cup, decorated with flowers, in front of his face, but that’s not what he’s after.

He crowds you against the old wood of the furniture, his warmth seeps through the thick material of your dressing gown and you feel your body react to it, as if he hasn’t already quenched your thirst for him, making you beg and moan like a whore.

“I think I need something else, love.”

The low growl of his voice, paired to the way his thumb sweeps on your lower lip, makes your knees tremble and you follow your body’s instinct, kneeling on the floor, at level with his straining cock still trapped in his briefs.

You rise your eyes to his stern ones, silently asking for permission, which comes in the form of his big hand in your loose hair, guiding your face towards his manhood; you don’t need any more prompting, fingers grabbing the elastic to pull the cotton down his muscled legs, letting his erection spring free in front of your waiting mouth.

You don’t even notice him kicking his briefs away, your lips already on his weeping head, smearing the precum on your lips, his musky taste making you moan, tongue licking all he’s already giving you.

“Stop teasing.”

He growls again, big hand now cupping your head firmly to control your movements when his fingers grab your unruly strands, pushing his cock into your wet mouth and you let him use you how he sees fit.

You slowly bob your head up and down, taking every inch of him with every pass, spit wetting your chin as he advances mercilessly, until his head meets the back of your throat, making you moan as you try to swallow his girthy cock with desperate whines of need. His pushes become faster and more violent, him needing the velvet of your throat like he needs air now, wanting to feel you fully.

“Stop playing around.” He says through gritted teeth.

Your hands grab him to push him deeper, to force your throat to submit to his invasion and his hips kick against your face when you swallow around him, welcoming him with a long moan that almost breaks his control.

“Minx!”

He barks, before starting to fuck your throat with with deep pushes that force your face closer to his hips, depriving you of air, his fingers biting your scalp now that he has to keep your face in place to fuck you to his leisure. You try to whine, to pull your head back, but he’s not letting you, his cock ruthlessly breaching your throat, hips grinding against your tears streaked face, until your eyes roll back in your head, the lack of oxygen almost making you faint.

When he releases you, you cough, precum and spit falling from your lips. Desperate for air and for him, your hand curls around his cock to keep jacking him as you mouth at his balls, licking the mess that’s already leaked there, hungry and desperate for his taste in your mouth.

Your lips find his cock again and now they form a loose O around his member that he can fuck as you suck your cheeks in for friction as your hand finds your center.

“What are you doing?”

Abraham’s cock leaves your mouth and his hand curls around your wrist, cruelly stopping your release.

“Please.” You beg pathetically. “Please, I need it.” And you’re not sure if it’s his cock or your orgasm.

Abraham’s eyes soften for a second, you’re so pretty when you’re desperate for him.

“You’ll come, on my cock though.”

He says with a strained voice, you drive him mad and you have no idea.

“Don’t you want to spend yourself here?”

Your free hand opens your nightgown, showing your luscious breasts to his burning gaze; Abraham has to grab his base or he’ll come untouched all over your soft skin and nipples: no, he wants your cunt, wet and and always ready for him.

He’s rough when he helps you on your feet, so fast that your head spins for a moment and you have to lean on him, your face against his study chest and his touch softens, his long fingers trace the knobs of your spine and he breathes in your smell, now mixed with his: it’s heady to know that you’re going to walk around with his marks on your beautiful body, even after he’s gone, you’ll carry a piece of him with yourself.

Your lips seek his, already slack for his tongue to breach again, he seeks his own taste as he kisses you, one of his hands in your hair again, the other busy divesting you of your dressing gown as you plaster your naked body against his and he moans in the kiss when your soft breasts push against his solid chest: no one has ever had this kind of effect on him and no one ever will, he fears.

For the longest second he stares into your eyes, big and unfocused, your lips plush from the kissing and the sucking, before turning you around to bend you over with your hands pressed against the window.

“Don’t you move, love, you won’t like it otherwise.” He whispers in your ear, and you tremble with need.

You’re so wet and ready for his cock, your honey slides down your thighs: you should feel ashamed of your desire, of how much you want his cock to plow you until your legs give up, but you can’t find in your heart to care, lust clouds your mind.

With wanton moans you push your arse backwards, towards his fully erect cock and his hand lands on your cheek, once, twice, until your cries of pain become pleads for mercy, for him.

“Please Abraham! Please! I need you!” You sound so broken, needy and whiney, and you don’t care: either he fucks you or you’ll go absolutely mad!

Abraham’s hands grab your plush hips to force you on your tippy toes, your arms straining to stay in place when his tip starts teasing your wet folds with slow, vertical motions that have his whole cock slowly pressing against your cunt, until your labia envelopes his erection fully.

His lips find your ear, his teeth nibble the sensitive skin there.

“Beg for it!”

He orders with a stern voice, laced with something you can’t place, born of the failed arranged marriage you know nothing about and that had hurt him beyond what he’s willing to admit.

“Now!”

And you do, with your nails scratching the window, your voice high pitched and broken with desire and desperation, your body trembles when his teeth bite the naked skin of your back, savagely, leaving marks that will hurt with every movement.

“Abe, ah!”

His cock breaches you, your body lurches forward with the powerful pushes and his hands have to pull you back, fucking you with long strokes that open you up to his invasion, that mould your cunt for his cock, and his cock only.

When he bottoms out his hips grind against you, his bulbous head pushes mercilessly against that rough patch inside of you, and you cry out, desperate, tears streaming down your face, cunt curling around his cock like a fist that pulls him in and he wants to drown inside of you.

Your body arches with every fast push against your spot, so hard and fast that you're already in overdrive, your pleasure careening towards you brutally, all your nerves burning to the point of pain that you try to squirm away from his hold: he’s too much, the pleasure he’s giving you encompassing your mind and your body, every muscle burns and trembles in his merciless hold, as his cock keeps fucking you. The pleasure is like a whiplash on your poor mind when his fingers find your pearl, his movements brutal, aided by your wetness and the pleasure explodes inside of you. Your body goes rigid with it, back arched, mouth hanging open as Abraham’s cock fucks you through it, you’re so tight it almost hurts to keep going, just a bit more, you’re giving him so much pleasure he needs more of your perfect cunt; he comes with his teeth biting your shoulder, the pain triggering a smaller orgasm that has your cunt milking his cock until he has no more to give.

His lax body falls on yours and you two slide on the floor, still grabbing at one another with trembling hands, your bodies deaf to the cold bite of the tiles as you two frantically kiss and hug in the vain attempt to become one.

Both your breaths are still labored when you two manage to stand up, your legs tremble so much that Abraham has to carry you up the stairs and up to your bed. By the time he comes back with a wet cloth to clean you up, you’re already asleep with your legs spread and his seed staining your overused cunt.

He needs to be gentle when he cleans you up, not wanting to wake you up after having used you so hard; his cock tries to get hard again as the coupling replays in his mind.

You’ll never know how much the memories keep him warm when his caravan is too cold and lonely, when he’s too far away from your village and he misses you, when he wishes you’d go away with him.

But that’s never going to happen, to even imagine you being inside his caravan all curled up in your thick gown because you’re freezing or hugging him from behind, making it all the hardest to go out and work with the horses, means opening himself up to hopes he knows will crush him; this is safer, will always be safer, for you two both.

#abraham #abraham x reader #abraham x y/n

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kingbonercar · 2 years

Text

Bring Me a Dream- Morpheus X Reader

~Part 2~

Part one below ⬇️

https://vampire-teeth7.tumblr.com/post/692004011191271424/bring-me-a-dream-morpheus-x-reader

Word count: 2.2k

Pairing: Morpheus x AFAB! GN reader (no gendered terms but reader does have a vagina)

Warnings: ABSOLUTELY FILTHY SMUT (choking, master kink, TOP!Morpheus, spitting kink, praise+degradation kink)

Sorry if it’s a tad OOC, but I tried to keep it as close to Dream as possible🤞

MINORS DNI

Neil Gaiman DNR, I know you’re lurking on certain sites but trust me, you don’t want to read this, buddy.

The kiss we shared could have spanned decades or seconds. Time melted away when he held me in his arms. I no longer yearned for the materials of this world- I only craved him. He pulled his lips from mine and averted his gaze to the floor.

“I should not have done that”. He stated.

Dream’s tone wasn’t laced with regret or malice; he let those words fall freely from his lips like a fact.

“I’m glad you did.” I attempted to reassure him, still hungry for more.

“No, it’s not that I didn’t want to. It’s that you’re a mortal and I’m a god. I mustn’t use you for my own petty entertainment.” His monotone voice groaned.

He stepped away from the foot of the bed, his back facing me. I arose softly, not letting on that his words stung like a branding iron. I outstretched my hand to calmly touch his shoulder.

“You must go.” His words rang like hell’s infernal bells.

“But I don’t want to. Please. I let you out. Don’t make me go.” I pleaded, as crystalline tears began to form and race down my cheeks.

“And why should I care? You, a human, don't deserve favors from me after performing one deed that so many failed to do.” The tall man’s voice was infused with bitterness.

He turned to face me, his eyes shining like glaciers in a lonely ocean.

“Well I’m not going anywhere.” I removed my hand from his shoulder. He furrowed his brow. “I choose to stay. Because even though you are the king of Dreams, I don’t take orders from anyone.”

“You are too bold of a mortal.” He rasped, roughly grabbing my shoulders and pushing me towards the wall.

My back felt the impact immediately. I grunted in displeasure. Our faces were mere inches away, as Morpheus donned a cold grin.

“Do you know what I did to my last lover? I banished her to Hell because she defied me.”

“Is that supposed to scare me, Dream of the Endless?” I sneered.

He let out a hot breath. “It should.”

He closed the gap between our fervent mouths, bestowing upon me a starving kiss, one much more unrelenting than the last. I attempted to rake my hands through his ebony hair, but my venture was stymied by his cold fists, pinning my arms to the wall. I could feel a pool forming in my underwear as I became exceedingly more aroused with every passing second. I moaned into his mouth unexpectedly. He immediately broke the kiss.

“You pathetic little mortal.” He rasped through a malicious grin. “Come on then. On the bed.”

I swiftly flew to the mattress- as I was eager to please the Lord of Dreams. His eyes scanned my trembling form. I felt as if he could see underneath my clothing, and was scrutinizing every curve of my body.

“Y/N, such a naughty thing.” He groaned.

Morpheus slunk astride me on the bed, his knee nestled in between my legs. We continued the deep kisses until he grew tired of them. He grasped at the hem of my shirt, maneuvering it over my chest. He ran his slender fingers over my nipple, eliciting a tremble to rampage through my body. Dream chuckled.

“It takes so little to arouse you.” He smiled.

“Don’t- don’t act like you aren’t aroused too.” I moaned through fervent breath.

“Oh you have no idea.” The pale man attached his mouth to my nipple, expertly maneuvering his tongue in a circular motion. Sinful sounds escaped my lips as he pinched my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He grinned against the supple flesh of my chest. Without thinking, I bucked my hips against his knee.

This was the wrong move.

He instantly ceased pleasuring me, and gazed into my eyes with a blazing, animalistic, intensity that only heightened my arousal. He placed his hands on the bed on either side of my head, effectively trapping me.

“You dare attempt to get off without my permission?” He rasped.

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry What?”

“Oh, uh, sorry… Morpheus?” Being as inexperienced as I was, I frantically searched for names that he would be pleased with in bed. I recalled the balmy meadow in which he claimed that I could call him whatever I wanted- so I decided on Morpheus.

This was evidently the wrong title.

The Sandman wrapped his lithe fingers around my throat.

“You shall refer to me as Master. Now let’s try that again, shall we?” He released his iron grasp.

I gasped for air as tears leaked from my eyes.

“Ye-yes, Master.” I choked out.

“Good. Your safe word is Morning.” Dream of the Endless caressed the inky bruises forming on my throat with a pale digit.

“Now, strip for me.” He commanded.

I hastily slid off my pants and tossed them to the floor with a whump.

I hooked a finger onto the waistband of my underwear, making sure to tease the Dream Lord a tad. Eventually I tore them off, baring my entire body to him. He looked over me, his face emotionless. I wondered if he thought me to be average, beautiful, or underwhelming. I was so eager to please that I would transform my soul to his liking if it meant that I would get to soothe my pleasure-clouded mind. Morpheus, still fully clothed, slunk off of the bed, dragging me with him by the arm. However his commands were gentle, although stern.

“Return me to the form you first saw me in.” He threw his head back and guided me to a kneeling position with his hand slinking down my back.

I was confused, so I peeped “whatever do you mean, Master?”

“Take off my clothes.” He stated plainly.

I nodded. I began by unzipping his skin-tight trousers. I ran my hands down his thighs as I teased my way to his grey boxers. He tilted my chin up with his forefinger.

“Get on with it then.” He scolded, eliciting a string of apologies from me.

I dropped his undergarment to reveal his fully erect penis, glistening with pre-cum. I smirked, not giving into the thoughts of sucking him off quite yet. I snaked up his body so that I was standing level with him. I noted that his breath became heavier.

So the King of Dreams did indeed get aroused.

I began to gently unbutton his shirt, making sure to linger on his defined pectoral muscles. When I finished that task, I dragged my fingernails down his chiseled arms as I slid his long black sleeves off. The man stood before me, his build was slight yet muscular. He was drawn and forlorn yet gorgeous and warm. His body was the color of a young moon, and he was completely devoid of any body hair. He was a masterpiece, a being who Michelangelo himself would lack the talent to carve into marble. Morpheus approached me and grabbed my waist with both of his skillful hands.

“Let the universe bend to our command tonight. Let the seas boil and the earth shake. You are mine, love.” He practically breathed into my waiting ear.

I was putty in his hands, content to fulfill his every need. He swung me onto the bed with superhuman strength, his hands still planted on my waist. He planted a chaste kiss to my collarbone and worked his way down the valleys and peaks of my form until he reached my dripping core. His eyes flicked up to meet mine.

“Beg.” He breathed, the vibration from his voice alone was enough to stimulate me.

“Please, please Master, I yearn for you. You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted and will ever want. I need to feel you please.” I moaned fervently.

“Good little slut.” He sighed.

Dream did not seem the type to use such language, but I wasn’t going to be the one to complain.

As soon as his tongue made contact with my clit I was done for. I moaned sinfully; loudly enough so that the guests in the hotel room next to us definitely heard.

I raked my hands through his raven hair. It was soft yet rigid. I began to buck my hips as pleasure shot through me like bolts of lightning. The Sandman smirked against my heat, uttering, “my good little whore” among other degrading praises. My pussy tightened as I felt an incoming orgasm. Dream disconnected his lips from my clit, not before bestowing a chaste kiss upon the sensitive area. He looked vulnerable- sweat coursed down his forehead and his cheeks were flushed. He maneuvered his way so that his body snuck through my legs, and our chests were brushing one another. He took me yet again in a famished kiss, I tasted myself on his tongue. He pulled away, mischief glistening in his gorgeous eyes.

“Open your mouth, pet.” He commanded.

I did so, and Morpheus spat into my craving jaws. He then inserted two of his pale fingers past my lips. I sucked on them as if they were vessels of ambrosia. I circled my tongue around them as they went deeper, almost scraping the back of my throat. He removed them with a pop.

“Are you ready, darling?” He inquired as he lined his weeping cock up with my entrance.

“Yes master.”

He entered me suddenly, I scarcely had time to adjust to his size. Dream’s lips fell agape sinfully and he groaned pleasurably.

“Fuck.” I breathed as I threw an arm around his neck. The Dream Lord began pumping rhythmically, expertly hitting my clit with precision with every thrust of his hips.

“Look at you, so pretty for me. Pathetic fucking whore.” The man growled as he wrapped a hand tightly around my neck. My air supply was severely diminished, yet not completely cut off-for that, I was thankful. I was under The Sandman’s complete control, and I adored every second of it. I even let the safe word slip my mind, as I was ready to receive whatever hand was dealt to me. I dragged my curious fingers over his slim, defined chest, tweaking one of his nipples in the process, eliciting a filthy moan from the man himself.

“You- feel- so-fuh-fa-fucking good!” I choked from my prohibited windpipe.

“I’m Dream the Endless, of course I feel fucking good.” He tightened his grip, stealing any breath that I had left. I brought my hand up to grab the wrist of his mitt occupied with my throat, and turned on my pleading eyes. He immediately retracted his fist as I convulsed into a coughing fit.

“Oh! Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” The icy demeanor that he had been harboring immediately melted away, revealing a frantic and caring face. He ceased his thrusts and drew me close to his chest.

“N-no. I’m alright. Thank you… Master.” I teased.

“Fuck- I’ll be gentler with you.” Morpheus threw his head back as I uttered “Master”.

“No. Please don’t be.” I placed a hand on his chest and gazed into his eyes honestly.

He smirked as he resumed his pounding. An orgasm was approaching like a band of wild horses. I felt a tremble in my legs, Morpheus took notice too, and dropped his hand to reach between my legs and rub circles on my clit.

“Ah! I’m gonna cum!” I cried, my nails marking his back.

“Beg for it. Beg for the honor to cum in my presence.” Dream pulled his hand away from my needy bundle of nerves to caress my jaw.

“Please, please Master! I know I’ve been such a bad little slut but I really need to cum! Please let me! I love you, Morpheus.” My last words came as a surprise to both me and him. I figured I was done for- I thought he would abandon me right there for uttering such words. But he only latched onto my neck, depositing soft kisses on the flesh. With only a few more thrusts, my orgasm arrived with enough force to knock a train off its tracks. Galaxies of pleasure invaded my senses as my visage convulsed wildly. Dream pulled out just in time for his own ejaculation, and with just a few pumps of his fist, hot ropes of cum flew out of his beautiful cock, onto my bare chest.

A slightly ashamed look overtook his face for a millisecond.

“Apologies. May I… assist you in cleaning up?” He inquired.

“Yes, please. Thank you, Master.” I breathily cooed.

He lowered himself onto me for the second time, only this instance, he dragged his tongue across my glistening tits, effectively licking his own cum from my body.

“You don’t have to call me Master anymore. Just like I said in your dream. Call me whatever you like.” His tone was the softest I had ever heard it.

“Thank you, Morpheus.” I tucked a stray strand of his hair behind his ear as he continued to clean me.

“Allow me to take care of you, darling.” He stated tenderly as he finished his job and enveloped me in his arms. Despite his body temperature being cool, I felt considerably warm in his presence, and utterly protected. I snuggled into his embrace and allowed my fatigued eyelids to slide shut.

“I love you too by the way.” He whispered.

I fell asleep with a soft smile painting my lips.

Tag list:

@writerofthewinds

@true-queen-of-mischief

#the sandman #Morpheus #the sandman x reader #Morpheus x reader #dream the endless #Dream the endless x reader #Tom Sturridge #Neil gaiman #the sandman Netflix #Netflix #smut #Morpheus smut #x reader #x gender neutral reader #Morpheus x Gn reader

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why-what-no · 2 years

Text

Give Up Control

Pairing: Morpheus x Dom!GN!AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Smut w/ Sub!Morpheus

Summary: Morpheus is stressed from ruling, so his lover persuades him to give up control for a little bit in their bedchambers

Requested by: @dyke-of-the-endless

It was never obvious to most when the stress of ruling got to the King of the Dreaming. He was so careful not to show any weakness, so reserved. It was only when he got to his private chambers that any tenseness was shown. His muscles tight, a scowl on his lips.

"Are you alright, darling?" His lover (Y/N) asked him, sitting at their desk. Their eyes were on him as he paced in front of their bed, eyes narrowed at the wall. It was obvious that he needed a break.

"Many problems have appeared since my disappearance. There is much that I have to deal with."

They chuckled, stepping closer to him. Hand reached up to cup his cheek, they pulled him in for a kiss. "Deal with it once you've calmed down. You're no use to Lucienne stressed like this."

"And how do you suggest I fix that?" His jaw was still clenched in slight irritation.

(Y/N) looked at him, smiling as they tugged at his cloak. "I can think of a few things."

Morpheus knew exactly what they were thinking of at the grin on their face. He would admit, the feeling of (Y/N) wrapped around him was very appealing. However, his mind was still on the Dreaming.

"I should be working right now."

"You should stop thinking so hard." Replied (Y/N), gently pushing in towards the bed. He sat down at the edge of it, looking up at his lover. "Just let me take care of you."

He looked like he was going to argue with them. However, he just sighed and nodded. Letting them lean down and kiss him deeply. "Lay down on the bed." They told him gently, moving away so that he could complete that task.

Morpheus watched them as they opened their desk, pulling out binding. "I don't think-" he started speaking, but (Y/N) just shushed him.

"You're completely safe." They told him gently, climbing into the bed and straddling their lover. "Just stop worrying. Let me be in change for now."

"... fine." He replied after a few moments. Allowing them to tug off his clothes. Allowing them to tie his hands to the bed. They sat over him, caging him between their thighs.

(Y/N) stroked a finger down his pale chest. "You're so beautiful." They told him, crawling off of Morpheus down to the front of the bed.

Kneeling between his legs, they leaned forward to gently kiss along his inner thigh. He was beginning to breath heavily, sounds which succeeded in turning (Y/N) on even more. They nipped at the smooth skin with their teeth. Not enough to cause any damage, but enough to pull a gasping moan out of Morpheus.

(Y/N) finally decided to stop teasing him. Taking him into their mouth, they had to hold his hips down as he bucked his hips against their face. Desperate for the pleasure they were giving him. He couldn't stop looking at his lover. Enthralled by the look of their lips around his cock, bobbing their head up and down.

He tilted his head back, face buried in the pillow as he tried to conceal the sounds of his arousal. But (Y/N) wouldn't allow it. "I want to hear you." They told him, moving away from him for a second to breath before returning to pleasure him. "Don't hide from me."

He obeyed them, moaning at the sensation of their tongue against the tip of his cock. He could feel his high approaching, but (Y/N) let go of him right before he could come. "(Y/N)." He gasped, slight annoyance in his tone. "Do not taunt me."

"Then tell me what you want." They weren't bothered by his threats, grinning as they kissed over his neck and jaw. "Ask me."

Morpheus hesitated. Not wanting to beg, but... "Ride me." He requested, staring at (Y/N) with pupils blown out in lust. "I want you to.... I want you."

His sweet pleads swayed (Y/N), causing them to lean forward to kiss him deeply. Moaning against his mouth as he grinded up against them. "Behave." They told him in a sugary sweet voice, stroking his hair.

Sinking down onto his, head thrown back at the feeling of being stretched out by him. Morpheus could feel how soaked and aroused there were around his cock, pride filling him at the thought that he was what caused that.

Their hands were braced against his chest as they rolled their hips over him. Morpheus was fucking up into them, helping (Y/N) keep a steady rhythm. He watched the pleasured expressions on their face, amazed by their beauty as they straddled him. As they rode him.

They came right before he did, the feeling of them clenching around his cock triggering his own orgasm. (Y/N) collapsed against his chest, trying to catch their breath.

"Relaxed yet?" They chuckled, reaching up to undo his bindings.

Morpheus rolled his eyes with a small grin. He refused to answer, which normally meant that (Y/N) had been right. Wrapping his arms around his lover, Morpheus pulled them close.

He wouldn't admit it, but he was feeling better.

Taglist: @stygianoir

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman dream #the sandman x reader smut #Morpheus x reader smut #dream of the endless x reader smut #the sandman dream smut #the sandman morpheus smut

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roguelov · 1 year

Text

A Mood

Summary: In a particular mood, Morpheus seeks you out. When he finds you in the royal library, he decides to have some fun with you.

Word Count: ~2.3k

Reader: Afab

Warnings: Smut (teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, slight public sex, some clothes stay on)

Requested by the beautiful @yew-over-there

MINORS DNI/ 18+ ONLY

The King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realm was effectively in a mood.

What mood, you may ask, well no one - at least none of his subjects - could decipher. One glance at their king, and they simply turned, walking off in the other direction. Later, they thought to themselves, they will ask their questions and address their needs later.

Morpheus, with a certain glint in his eyes, stormed down the weaving corridors of the castle in search of someone.

In search of you.

You, unaware of your lover's war path, were temporarily hidden in a corner of the library. With new books constantly being dreamt of and with Lucienne’s new responsibilities, you took the cart stacked full of books and began to reorganize the shelves. Turning to grab another book, you spotted a ominous shadowy figure in your peripheral. There was no spike of fear. You knew your love when you saw him - in any form. You glanced up and smiled. “Hi, Morpheus.”

He still had that odd look in his eyes.

You cocked your head, slightly confused by his silence. “Are you okay?”

Wordlessly, he stalked forward.

Yes, others may not recognize the look, but you knew the look in your lover’s eyes - the insatiable hunger.

Your heart skipped, picking up pace with each step he took towards you - the space getting thinner and thinner. “Morpheus?”

He loomed in front of you.

His eyes fell to the book clasped to your chest. He raised an eyebrow, and carefully plucked it from your grasp. He read the cover, mostly out of habit, then discarded it without a care back onto the cart.

His eyes immediately locked with yours.

All the air was knocked out of your lungs. No matter how long you’ve been with Morpheus, no matter the nights spent together, he could always - always - render you into a mess by a simple look

And he knew this.

And oh, reveled in it.

He reached up, cupped your cheek. Heat radiated off his palm and only intensified the growing warmth in your cheeks. His eyes dropped to your parted lips. He could easily hear how your breath hitched, and stuttered. The corner of his lips twitched upward. His thumb ran over your bottom lip. Out of habit, your tongue poked out - just barely - ready to chase after it.

Now, he finally spoke.

“I have been thinking about you.”

Who would have guessed?

“Okay,” you mumbled, confused and dazed by the sudden tension in the air. “Why?”

Why? Such an odd question, Morpheus thought. “Why not. Why would I not think of the one who holds my heart?”

Confusion melted away. You smiled at his sweet words. “Did you truly come all this way just to tell me how much you love me?”

A smirk grew on his lips. “No, not tell, but show.”

Oh, your poor heart. It nearly jumped out of your chest at such a promise.

He dipped his head, pressing his lips to yours. Your eyelids fluttered close as your hands scrambled and gripped his coat - needing some lifeline. Morpheus guided you backwards and you stumbled into the bookshelf.

He flushed his body against yours, trapping you.

He deepened the kiss, enjoying how you clung to him. Your hands flew up into his hair, practically smushing his face to yours. He smirked against your lips. His tongue grazed over your lip. Entry. He wanted entry to taste you.

You hummed, giving yourself over to him.

His tongue slipped in.

Your knees nearly buckled.

He swirled his tongue, tasting what was his. He moved with such precision and care. He knew where to touch to make you a puddle in his arms. And a puddle, you were becoming. Your heartbeat rang in your ears, and your skin was flushed due to his skillful tongue.

You whimpered, tugging on his dark locks.

He hummed, a faint moan. Oh, the wondrous vibrations sent you into a tizzy; it coursed throughout your body and could feel it in your fingertips. Sadly, however, he pulled away. Although, he did gently bite your lip in the process.

The entirety of your weight was being supported by Morpheus and the bookshelf. You let out a shaky breath, and looked to Morpheus.

“That,” he confessed, brushing your cheek with his knuckles, “that is the look I enjoy most.”

You were breathing wildly, desperately trying to catch the air he greedily stole. Your eyes were half open, drooped in lust and love. Your lips were now perfectly swollen by his doing. And most of all, you hung onto him, needing him to keep you grounded.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath.

He chuckled. “Such a vile word.”

You huffed. “Oh, don’t give me that. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Smirking, he bent down. His lips ghosted over your neck. You whimpered, craning your head despite the attitude you showed seconds ago. When it came to him, you were at his mercy.

“Do I?” He murmured.

He placed a single kiss on the crook of your neck.

“Do I know how much my touch leaves you breathless and wanting?”

His hands wandered down your body, over your curves, landing at your hips.

“Do I know how much my voice leaves you spellbound?”

He hummed in your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

“Do I know how much you easily surrender yourself to me?”

He brought your hips to his, making you grind into him - giving just a fraction of pleasure through the minimal friction. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the wanton moan. You instead turned your head away from him, becoming incredibly bashful at his words and doing.

Only he could make you like this. Such cruelty.

“Oh no, my love, look at me.”

He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, guiding your attention back on him. You slowly glanced at him with a small pout on your lips.

His thumb lightly stroked your chin. “What do you want?”

He knew.

Of course, he knew. He craved it too, possibly more. But, oh how he loved watching you struggle to say it.

You nervously swallowed, and mumbled. “You.”

“My dear,” he smirked deviously. “I need you to be more specific. Now, what do you want?”

He grinded his hips against yours again.

A moan, loud and unexpected, tumbled off your lips. Your head fell back into the bookshelf, knocking a few books over. He was truly horrible today.

“Fuck, Morpheus.” You hissed through your teeth.

“Say it.”

Your skin was unbearably hot as embarrassment washed over you. A string of curses were mumbled under your breath. “I … I - fuck - I want you … I want you inside of me, please.”

He nodded, and obeyed your wishes.

His hands instantly fell to the waistband of your pants. His nimble fingers began to undo them and -

Realization hit you.

Your hands quickly flew to his wrists, stopping him. “Morpheus,” you hissed, glancing down the aisle to the open library - open for anyone to walk by. “What if someone -“

“No one will see anything, my dear.” His lips brushed over the shell of your ear and purred, “Unless you want them to.”

The Dreaming was him.

If you wanted seclusion in the library, then so be it. No one will bother the two of you.

Your eyes widened.

He chuckled at your expression. “May I continue?”

Your eyes darted over to the vast network of aisles of books. You looked back at Morpheus. He smiled devilishly, waiting for your inevitable answer - the only acceptable answer.

You slowly, one finger at a time, unfurled your grip, then nodded.

He smirked and continued. His hand slipped inside your pants. His fingers skimmed over your damp underwear; your breath hitched. His smirk widened. He pushed aside your underwear and teasingly stroked your wet folds.

You gasped.

A single finger slid inside of you, gently stroking your walls.

You whined, grinding down on his single finger.

It wasn’t enough, he knew that.

He laughed through his nose, still wearing that same evil smirk. “You said you wanted me inside of you, however, you did not specify, my dear.”

His finger curled.

You moaned.

He hummed, dropping his face into your neck. “So beautiful.”

His finger pumped in and out. Your walls fluttered around his delicious finger. Yet, your body craved more. Pleasure was slowly built - painfully slow.

His thumb swiped over your clit.

Your head fell back into the bookshelf. “Fuck.”

Smirking, he kissed the crook of your neck. “My, my, my, maybe I should teach you to not use such vulgar words.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress any more noises.

“I could deny you until you learned,” he nipped at your skin, “or I could overwhelm you until you had no use for such words, or any for that matter.”

You threw your arms over his shoulders, drawing him closer. Your lips passed over his ear. “Please,” you begged, bucking your hips.

“Please, what?” His voice was gravelly, an animalistic growl.

His thumb circled, soft teasing circles, around your clit. You sighed, blissfully. He raised you higher and higher and -

His instantly touch vanished, along with your potential end. He pulled away entirely. You were cold, and empty.

You whined.

His hands curled around your hips, pressing you up against him. “Tell me what you want,” his thumb soothingly rubbed against your needy skin, “I want to give you everything you desire. But, you must tell me.”

“You.” You answered much like before, but this time you had found your voice. “Your lips on mine, your hands all over my body, your cock inside of me; I want all of you, Morpheus.”

He smiled - a loving one. “Now, that is a perfect request. One that I will dutifully fulfill.”

In a flurry of excited movements, pants were discarded.

Morpheus lifted you up, pinning you up against the bookshelf. You didn’t mind the books or shelves harshly digging into your back or cared for the few books toppling onto the floor. All you cared about was him - was this moment. Your legs hooked around his waist, greedily keeping him close. Then, without hesitation nor warning, he dropped you on his cock. You gasped, gripping his shoulders.

“Morpheus,” you moaned.

“Shhh, I am here, my love.”

His fingers dug into your hips as he lifted you up and down. His cock kissed all the right spots. You dropped your head, breathing heavily. You could watch as he slid in and out of you.

God, and the noises? Sinfully delicious.

A whimper hummed in your throat.

“All day,” he groaned. “All day I’ve thought of you.”

“Have you?” You asked, completely breathless.

He chuckled, looking up into your eyes. “Of course.”

“Good.” You grinded down, matching his upward thrusts.

Morpheus moaned. He grabbed your face bringing your lips down to his. “Just like that, my love.”

Your heart fluttered.

His lips grazed down your jaw, peppering kisses all over your neck - such sweet contrast to the merciless hips. You hummed, carding your fingers through his hair. “So beautiful.” He murmured into your skin. “And all mine.”

Your walls fluttered around him, around such words.

“Do you like when I call you mine?” Morpheus hummed, completely amused.

“Yes,” you sighed, closing your eyes.

He smiled.

“Mine.” He placed an open mouth kiss on your neck. “Mine.” His lips moved to your lips, pecking them once. “Mine.” His hips snapped up, while forcibly bringing your hips down.

You moaned. “Morpheus, I - I can’t last much longer.”

“Just a little longer.”

You were both slowly drowning in ecstasy.

His cock buried within you. He hit all the perfect areas, drawing you further and further to the edge. You bounced, trying to make him go deeper - trying to get him to reach his end as well. A vein popped on his neck as he clenched his jaw. Your walls hugged him wonderfully. His fingers have definitely bruised your hips.

“Morpheus,” you warned him, you couldn’t hold out.

“That’s okay, my love. Come for me, I want to see what is mine.”

His.

You clamped down around him, moaning out his name. Your forehead dropped, pressing against his. He leaned in, kissing you and swallowing up all your moans and whines. You grabbed his face, sighing deeply. He hummed, shortly coming after you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, collapsing back into the bookshelf.

Morpheus smiled, taking in your exhausted, blissful state. “You truly shouldn’t say such words.”

You peered down at him, smiling tiredly. “Oh, you love it.”

He kissed your lips and all over your face. “I do.”

You laughed, feeling slightly ticklish by his feathery kisses. “Okay, okay, you need to set me down. I promised Lucienne I would help her.”

A look passed over Morpheus’s features; dare you say almost a glare.

Why?

You opened your mouth to ask -

Weightlessness.

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. You fell, fell backwards into -

Into something soft, something that cradled and hugged your body.

Your eyes wildly darted around. You recognized this place, it was your shared bedroom. You were laying down on your massive cloud-like bed. A pleasant change compared to the harsh books that poked and dug into your back.

Your eyes were wide, and you were at a complete loss for words. Morpheus’s abilities still always surprised you.

Morpheus loomed over you, smirking down at you. He was a dark figure towering over you in this dimly lit setting. All you could see was his pale blue eyes which twinkled in such mischief - mischief and love. He crawled on top of you. His hands rested on each side of your head, pinning you down. He bent his head. His lips skimmed over your lips, “That can wait, I am still not done with you.”

#the sandman #morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #morpheus smut #dream smut #the sandman smut #smut #dream x afab!reader #Morpheus x afab!reader

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 months

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

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

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

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

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

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gaypirate420 · 1 year

Text

Premunition// Dream*

Dream of the Endless* x male!reader.

Part one.

Part three: AMAB. AFAB.

Summary: After realizing you had a glimpse of the future in your dreams, you think about altering the destiny.

Suggestive. But feelings more than anything.

"My moonlight?" Lord Morpheus called again, so softly, full with worry.

"I had a premunition." You whispered, your cheeks were burning.

"What happened in your vision?" He asked oh so carefully. You avoided his gaze, ashamed.

You can't tell him.

"No—" You pulled away from him going for one book that will determinate your next move.

"I cannot tell you, Oneiros. " you stopped re reading the paragraph, Morpheus stayed behind you.

"If I tell you—It could change the destiny and I do not wish for your brother to annoy you for my actions, my lord." You remarked with a nervous tone, The Dream Lord nod slightly.

You ache for that premunition to be the same step by step. A premunition isn't always going to be the exact same, especially if it's seen in a dream.

But you prayed that it was.

"I'm so nervous and a bit scared." You whispered, his hand reach yours once again.

"There is no need to be afraid, love. If what you saw harmed you then I shall do the impossible to keep you safe." He spoke before pressing a kiss against your knuckles, you smiled.

Everytime you looked at him, memories of your vision filled your mind. The way his hands touched you and his lips kissed you.

"You have changed, my lord." You remarked before walking away to the pile of pillows and blankets you dare to call couch.

"Have I?" Lord Morpheus asked softly, you stopped again. Knowing what is going to happen is off-putting but there is a bit of excitement inside you.

"Y-yes you have, sir but—." You spoke while he got closer to you.

"But?" He repeated with a bit of sadness, you meet his gaze, his blue eyes are always watery. Oneiros looks sad, lonely, in need of love and care.

"I think I'm getting the wrong idea from your— acts, my lord." You said low. His rosy lips formed a smirk, The Dream Lord sat besides you.

"And which idea will that be?" He spoke, you swallowed. He knows what he does to you.

When The Lord of Dreams returned he became more affectionate and romantic. Giving you gifts, touches so soft and calling you the loveliest of pet names.

Some would say he was trying to woo you.

"That you fancy me." You confessed. His pale hand cupped your cheek and you melted against him.

His lips meet yours and your body is infested of his divine taste.

Your soul is one with the stars.

"My lord—" You breathed out.

"There is no need for formalities now. It hasn't since long ago, don't you think?." He said while his thumb stroked your cheek.

"Morpheus." You whispered, he smirks and presses a quick kiss on your lips.

"In my prison I had the time to reflect of various topics and actions— but at the end I would always think about you." He spoke against your skin, his lips traveled down your neck.

"You thought about me?" You asked feeling your cheeks warm and your hearth racing.

"Indeed. I realized how much you've done for me and how little I've given in return. The many times I have failed you and made you cry." You meet eyes with him, his blue eyes watery again, you extended your hand and cupped his pale face.

He kissed the palm of your hand.

"After I was free and my realm was repaired I felt like something was missing. I felt—lonely." Morpheus spoke, you felt your own eyes watery.

"And when I heard your voice calling for me even after all these years— and when I saw you." He spoke, the tears where running down his face.

"Then I felt complete again." He whispered, your thumb cleaned the tears away. You leaned over and kissed him again.

He was so hungry for you touch, for any touch. Any sign of love.

"Please, be mine. Let me treat you how you deserve. I'll show you how much I love you, my moonlight." He whispered between breaths.

"I'm already yours, my sweet prince." You whispered but The Dream Lord was waiting for something.

"I love you, Morpheus." You whispered against his ear, he kisses you once again before undoing your shirt.

His cold hand traveled down your chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: THEY WILL BANG IT ON PART 3 OKAY? I just wanted to have some feels and as you can see I was really into this one.

#I am trying SO hard for this fuc to show up on the tags #I've been literally crying over this #the sandman x reader #the sandman #the sandman imagine #the sandman x male reader #morpheus x male reader #morpheus x trans male reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless

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dotieeee · 10 months

Text

A Small Act of Kindness

A DARK one-shot

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x you, afab reader

Warnings: dark!Morpheus, obsessive behaviour, dark!Dream won't take 'no' for an answer, disturbing themes like kidnapping, imprisonment, isolation, etc, 18+ only!!

Inspired by this ask for @roguelov See: https://www.tumblr.com/roguelov/721739134130143232/this-isnt-smut-but-dream-has-strong-miette?source=share

Summary: You were at the cusp of making a life for yourself when you bought a loaf of bread for a stranger, who seemed a little bit too taken with such a nice gesture.

When you were a kid, everybody around you seemed to think you got a great life ahead of you. You kept hearing them comment how bright you were, how talented, how lucky your parents were to have such a behaved, wonderful child - and for a time, it got to your head.

Until life proved you weren't really any of those things.

It started creeping in when you went away to college. You had a taste of freedom, of zero expectations, and a glimpse of a world suddenly leagues beyond yourself. It was one class at first, then another, until you started dropping out of every class and left college altogether.

Many therapy sessions, and a couple of therapists later, you found out what it was called: burnout. It just so happened it plagued you a little early in life.

In retrospect, perhaps you could've tried harder - if you had just snoozed your alarm off a little less; if you had just grit your teeth and stomached your way through a few more algebra periods instead of sitting alone in that little corner of the library, reading whatever, hidden from a world you barely knew - perhaps it all would've been different.

Perhaps, you wouldn't be stuck in this small, glass cage floating in a vast chasm, in a place you hadn't thought existed even in your wildest dreams.

It was a day like any other, you supposed: the day you met him. You had to go to work, to a desk job that you actually liked, writing for a local food magazine. You were quite good at it too - it's a skill you had when you were quite young and had not had a chance to cultivate until late. Sure, you were barely making ends meet and had very little time to spare, what with taking a certificate course at a nearby university and recently moving out of your parents' house to rent your own little apartment, but you were feeling optimistic for the first time in a long while. Your boss just let it slip the other day that you were due for a well-deserved promotion soon. It was a slow process, but you were finally on your way to getting your life back together. You had a future you looked forward to.

Having already established your morning routine, you were on your way early to the office and decided to stop for coffee at this corner bakeshop you had once featured in one of your articles. The smell of freshly baked bread distracted you from a mental draft you were making for an article due tonight, so on impulse, you asked the cashier for a plain butter croissant at the counter. You looked to your right where the pastries were to see whether you wanted something else (the danishes looked scrumptious). You opened your mouth to ask the other lady behind the bread counter for a cherry danish, but her attention was already on the man beside you, clad in a thick, woollen black coat, collar upturned, his chiselled jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly at the question the lady posed for him.

"Uh, sir? I asked what you'd like to have?"

He tilted his head imperceptibly and for a moment, you thought he couldn't speak, until he opened those pursed lips, and finally, came out the most velvety, alluring voice you've ever heard: "I'd like some bread, please."

"Well, we've got quite a lot of them," the lady replied slowly as if she was trying her best not to be snarky at the stranger. "Might I recommend the baguette? It's fresh out of the oven."

The man nodded curtly as the lady picked the steaming bread from the basket display using a pair of tongs and placed it inside a brown paper bag.

"That'll be one twenty-five, sir."

The man made no move to shuffle in his pockets for money. In fact, he stayed still, stiff as a board, staring at the lady behind the counter who was getting rather irritated at his dawdling, probably keeping her from attending to the growing line of other customers waiting to get their breakfast. Perhaps, he didn't have money? Perhaps, just like your first few weeks out of your parents' house, he was struggling and he had no one else to depend on?

"I-I'll pay for it."

You didn't know what it really was that compelled you to say it - maybe it was that draft you were itching to get to, maybe you found empathy in his situation, whatever it was - at that time, you had no regrets. Seemingly surprised by the gesture, the man in the black coat, with his dishevelled hair and his pale countenance, stared at you intensely through those long eyelashes of his, and for a few moments, you held his gaze.

His eyes. They were a nice shade of ocean blue. They were the most beautiful pair of eyes you had ever seen.

You would later discover they could bleed to depthless black - ruthless, vindictive, inhuman.

The cashier handed you your change and your croissant, effectively breaking the spell the stranger beside you had on you. The cherry danish all but ignored, you flashed the man a small smile and headed out of the bakeshop, going about your merry way to the office with nothing but that article in mind.

And for the next two weeks, you had already put the rather bizarre incident (man) behind you, having been assigned to another place to visit and write about.

The man, however, never forgot.

The place you had been assigned to, called the New Inn, actually belonged to a professor in your university. You've had quite a lot of fun in his classes, so this was a gig you were pretty excited about.

It was a little over five in the afternoon when you stepped inside Professor Gadling's pub. He was already there in the corner booth, grading several essays. He put them aside as you arrived and asked a waiter to bring you both coffee. You were in the process of bringing out your digital recorder for the interview when you heard a voice so familiar it sent shivers down your spine.

"Hob."

Completely taken by surprise, you dropped the recorder to the floor, and it landed just a few inches from a pair of black boots. You tried to reach for it, but a pale, bony hand picked it up and wordlessly handed it to you. You looked up, only to get lost in a pair of ocean-blue eyes focused entirely on you.

It was the stranger from the bakeshop.

You took the recorder, muttering a flustered 'thank you,' before Professor Gadling greeted him like an old friend. He then introduced you to the stranger, who oddly enough just stared at you the entire time.

"She's interviewing me for the pub. I'll be featured in a magazine, can you believe it?" Professor Gadling said to the stranger who stepped inside the booth, intending to take the empty seat directly across from you. Turning to you, he stated, "This is my friend -"

"You may call me Morpheus." The man interrupted, a ghost of a smile visible on his usually blank features. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

It was unnerving the way he held your gaze without blinking, but perhaps it was just your imagination - after all, you hadn't had anything to eat since that leftover Chinese noodles this morning.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” was all you could come up with.

You were grateful when the waiter arrived with two cups of coffee and a dessert platter, and the interview with the professor went well and without interruptions. You both had so much fun, you ended up having dinner and drinks at the pub, and while it struck you odd that your third, silent companion did not partake in any single morsel of the food, by the time the evening ended at half-past ten, you had enough material for your article and were in great spirits. You thanked him for being such a gracious host and politely bid your farewell, as you were anxious to get a headstart on the draft.

The three of you simultaneously got to your feet - Professor Gadling to walk you outside, and the odd man named Morpheus trailing behind.

"Do come by again, my dear, and good luck with the article. I know you'd do a fantastic job." The professor said as he waved farewell outside the pub. He turned to Morpheus, who stood just a few feet away, watching the interaction, and gestured to him inside - presumably for them to continue their conversation - but as soon as you waved goodbye, he made a beeline for you, stopping just a few inches away and towering over you.

Too close, you thought. Wait, were his eyes twinkling? It must’ve been the streetlamp, the lights outside were pretty dim.

"I would like to accompany you on your walk home."

His words threw you off because they were so unexpected. He had no reason to do so, after all. Shyly, you beamed at him and replied, "I'd appreciate it, Morpheus, but I wouldn't like to impose...weren't you meeting with the professor?"

Professor Gadling, who apparently was in earshot of your conversation, waved you away.

"No, it's fine, dear. Besides, a young lady such as yourself shouldn't be walking alone at night. I'll see you some other time, my friend," he added, winking at Morpheus, who just tilted his chin in reply.

The professor had a point. You lived nearby, that was true, but the streets weren't safe on a Friday night, especially at this hour. You chewed on the insides of your cheek, nervous at the fact that you have not had anyone walk you home in a long while.

It's just a walk home. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

"Okay."

You would come to regret your response.

***

Inwardly, Morpheus rejoiced at the thought of you lowering your guard with him. He motioned with a hand to let you lead the way, not that he needed it - in two weeks after your fateful encounter at the bakeshop he had gotten to know every little detail he needed to know about you, including where you lived, of course. He had seen the little apartment himself when you were out at work, and while it irked him that you had to live in such a humble abode, he knew through your dreams that you had filled the apartment with love and considered it your sanctuary. It wouldn't matter once he took you home to his kingdom as his lover - for you, he'd craft an entire palace carved in precious stones in the blink of an eye, and it would be your sanctuary, just as much as this tiny home.

He did a fine job, too, of luring you into the place his centuries-old friend now owned. It took him only one dream, planted during your boss’s deepest slumber, for you to get sent right where Morpheus wanted you to be. All this planning and you were right there, with him, just as the fates would have it.

He had to ask you tonight. He has waited long enough.

***

You were just a few blocks away from your apartment building when you finally gained the courage to break the awkward silence between you two.

"Thank you for walking me home," you said quietly as you eyed him sideways. Your eyes widened at the sight that greeted you: he had a genuine, warm smile on his face you'd never seen on him before, and if his demeanour is anything to go by, you knew this was a rarity.

He looked like a prince, even with his hair sticking out in all directions.

"It is I who should be thanking you for your kindness to me at that establishment," he spoke with conviction. "I have not forgotten."

Surprised, but overall glad that he remembered, you matched his expression as best you can and replied, "You're welcome."

Nothing was ever exchanged until you reached your apartment door, but he seemed to draw closer to you, your shoulders almost touching.

Your hand was already at the keys to the doorknob when you asked him if he wanted to come in.

"For tea, perhaps?" You added. "I couldn't help but notice you didn’t eat at dinner, so…”

It was a last-minute decision, seeing as he was kind enough to ensure you got home safely. He could do with a few biscuits, too, in your opinion, judging by his pallor and his refusal to eat anything at the pub.

There it was again - that captivating smile, but behind it, you see a flash of something else entirely. It was gone even before you could fully take it in, so you shrugged inwardly. The hallway’s lighting has always been too dark to see a damn thing.

“You need not concern yourself over me, I am much stronger than I look,” he said in a light, teasing tone. “However, your effort would be appreciated.”

“Oh, it’s no problem!” You waved him off and pushed the door open to your home. “I just hope you don’t mind tea without milk, I haven’t done any grocery shopping yet…”

Morpheus followed you inside, closing the door behind him, as you went off to your room to drop your bag on the bed and set up your laptop on your work desk. As soon as you got out of your room, you found him with his back to you, rummaging through the copies of the magazine you wrote for.

“Nothing interesting in those, I’m afraid. Still, not bad for a would-be writer, don’t you think?”

Chuckling to yourself, you made your way to the tiny kitchen to put the electric kettle to boil, then rummaged through the cupboards for a mug you were saving for when you had guests over. Not that you’ve ever had any - so far, he was the first you’ve had since you moved in.

“‘A would-be writer?’”

The proximity of his voice startled you, seeing as you thought he had still been reading back in the living room. It’s admittedly only a few steps away, but you hadn’t heard him approach. He was at the kitchen doorway, casting a long shadow in the dimly lit space. You had forgotten to turn the lights on, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

“You give yourself very little credit for such riveting work,” he said as he closed the distance between you. The kettle had just turned off by itself, so you concentrated on pouring the boiling water on the mug and dropping a Ceylon tea bag inside. Leaning on the tiled counter, you watched the tea leaves bleed into the water, turning it to a lovely amber colour.

“I don’t know about that -”

Your sentence was cut short as you felt his fingertips subtly stroke your elbow, giving you goosebumps all over your arm.

He’d gotten so close…

Scooping up the mug with both hands, you turn around to hand him the mug, only to find yourself inches away from him you almost spill the hot liquid on his woollen coat.

“Your writing has soul. I should know: I have read every word you have ever written.”

Blinking up at him, you saw him dip his head closer to yours as his pale, warm hands enclosed around yours, still holding the tea.

You were trembling, it seemed, but he stilled it.

“Th-thank you," you whispered, unable to avert your gaze from those piercing blue eyes that seemed to pin you to place, as was his tall, imposing form enclosing you between him and the kitchen counter. He was so close you could feel the heat emanating from him. "That means so much to me.”

Or was it the heat from your cheeks you felt?

Seemingly oblivious to your increasingly flustered state, Morpheus made a deliberate move to extricate the cup of tea from your grasp so he could set it back down behind you (it was probably already over-brewed, you thought), while you try to compose yourself and ignore his fingers softly grazing your knuckles. You didn't have much time, however, because the next thing you knew was those same hands cupping your cheeks and his soft lips brushing over yours in a chaste kiss that stole your breath completely.

You felt him release his hold on you, perhaps to observe your reaction. Perhaps, you could’ve pushed him away right there and then; screamed at him for touching you and thrown him out of your home; but you couldn’t summon your limbs to respond. He took your momentary lapse of judgement to crash his lips on yours once more - it was a more heated, more insistent kiss, and as if to seal you to him, his hands travelled to your back to encase you in an embrace and pushed you further into the counter.

This was wrong.

It was all your instincts could tell you. So you heeded them and pushed against the lapel of his coat with all your strength. It was like pushing against a wall, but you managed to wriggle free from his grasp, so you made an effort to put as much distance between you and him as your tiny kitchen would allow. You glanced immediately at his face to gauge his expression, and to your utter shock, his eyes had gone entirely black. One blink, and it was blue once more, maybe even a tad regretful.

It’s the lighting in this damn kitchen, you assured yourself.

“I understand I may have been too forward,” he began, “But I assure you, my intentions are pure. I have waited for this since our fateful meeting.” He took slow steps towards you, and unconsciously you backed away until your back hit the fridge. There was nowhere else to back into. He halted as soon as he sensed your guard up.

“Morpheus, it was just a loaf of bread, really…”

Morpheus’s eyes softened visibly at your words and simply continued, “And by that selfless act, you have saved me in more ways than you could ever understand. I have held you in my heart since, my precious little saviour.”

“I-I'm sure it's nothing...” you stammered.

“Allow me the honour of courting you, and in turn, you shall know of my gratitude, and my love, until the end of my days.”

Your heart sank at his declaration. Somehow, you knew in your heart he meant every word he said. You couldn’t have this, not when everything in your life was just starting to fall into place. You put on the kindest smile you could muster and spoke slowly as you chose the right words, hoping he wouldn’t be too downcast with what you were about to say to him.

“I'm sure you're a wonderful man, Morpheus. I just…I don't think I can make that commitment right now. I mean, I just met you, and all I know about you is that you’re Professor Gadling’s friend.”

“That can be rectified.”

You let out a sigh. This was going to be difficult, but you really didn’t like the idea of egging him on. “I know that, but…I don’t think I have time for that, you know?”

“How so?” he asked in a low voice, tilting his head slightly.

“It's been a struggle just to get to where I am today… I have my work, which I love, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I'm doing something right and…one wrong move could make me lose my footing. I’m sorry.”

Morpheus seemed unconvinced, taking a few steps forward to close that gap between you. “You need not worry yourself over such trivial matters. I know what you dream of. I can give you the recognition you deserve, the stability you crave and more… Come with me and I can show you.”

He offered an outstretched hand, urging you to take it. But if you were being honest, you just wanted to crawl into bed, the draft be damned. Exhaustion was starting to creep up on you.

“‘Come with you…?’ I'm sorry, please don't take this the wrong way, I'm sure you mean well…but-but-th-this isn't really a good time for this…” you stammered as you crossed your arms to make a point, which you hoped he’d finally take. “I think I'd like to be alone now, please. I-I have that…thing I want to finish, and it's getting late…I’m sorry, Morpheus. I really am.”

Morpheus’s hand lowered steadily, but all the softness he had in his expression was gone without a trace, replaced with cold, hard eyes and furrowed brows. The warmth you have loved your apartment for all but disappeared, replaced with a clammy air that seemed to come from…from him.

“You have no idea what you've just turned away…nor who I am, and what I can do,” came Morpheus’s voice, lowered to an unrecognisable timbre. “I will give you this final chance to amend your answer, my little saviour.”

“E-excuse me?” you said, fighting the urge to run away from him and hide. This was your home, you had no reason to. Who the hell was he to threaten you in your own home? “I'd like you to leave, please, or I'm calling the police…”

He was only a few feet away from you now, and the wind somehow grew stronger, you could feel its rough caress on your skin.

Sand.

The light in your kitchen turned on without a warning, and your eyes widened at the sight of the man you had so carelessly allowed into your home:

A dangerous man - now a being transforming right before you - with chilling black eyes, a heavy flurry of sand circling him, and waves of black smoke emanating from his growing form…

Paralyzed in utter fear, your heart pounding in your ears, all you could do was hold on to the fridge as you watched him approach your cowering form on the floor. Gone was that princely face you shared a gentle kiss with, replaced by a bony, skeletal mask with hollow cheekbones, his mouth contorted in a snarl that revealed razor-sharp fangs.

His voice echoed as he spoke, raspy and deafening:

“I am quite disappointed in you, my precious saviour. No matter: I am not unmerciful.” A pale hand, now with blackened, sharpened nails, made an appearance before you. “Take my hand, my beloved, and I shall forgive your error.”

In your terrified state, all you could muster was an adamant shake of your head.

This can’t be real. It couldn’t be.

“I’m dreaming, I'm-I’m dreaming this, this can’t be real, you’re no-not real…” hunched on the floor, hugging your legs, you muttered to yourself.

“Very well,” he thundered. “You have made your choice. ”

You would later discover just how real dreams could be, and that they weren’t that much different from the nightmares.

***

Morpheus released a small sigh as he watched you in your spherical compartment, deep in troubled slumber. He had not meant to frighten you that much with his nightmarish form. Admittedly, he could’ve done a much better job with reeling himself in, but the pain of your rejection felt to him like a thousand daggers being plunged into his heart. All he wanted was for you to be happy with him. He could’ve given you everything he had seen you dream of - he still could, but not before he heard from your sweet lips an admittance of your guilt, and a vow never to spurn him again.

He held the tiny sphere that contained your form in his palm and drew it closer to his face to get a better look at you. He had fashioned you a dress that brought out the colour of your eyes and soul: you looked ravishing, even in imprisonment. In his mind, he had played the memory of the kiss you had shared with him in your home a thousand times over. You were intoxicating, and the thought of kissing you again and finally marking your skin cemented his decision of keeping you in this space he crafted in his kingdom. You needed time to consider his proposal, that was to be expected. He would allow you the time you needed. All he had to do was assure you of your safety and well-being, seeing as scaring you even further might prolong his wait.

He knew you would wake soon, and he would explain his actions when you do. You would have no reason to refuse him, then.

***

You woke with a start, rubbing the sleep off your eyes, just to sit up and think.

You had lost count of the number of days you had spent in your glass enclosure, and there was nothing much to do except to observe your surroundings - nothing but a vast space, where distant stars glittered in the black tapestry that was space, with a single source of light in sight, like the sun, only that it offered no warmth. That, and to ruminate on the events that led you to this situation.

You remembered when you first came to, locked in this glorified cage. You still thought you were dreaming then, so you did everything you could to try waking yourself up, only none of it worked. That was when he appeared.

Dream of the Endless, he had called himself. The King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm.

He claimed to rule the place he had taken you to, which he called the Dreaming. He had then explained that everything humanity (‘your kind,’ you recalled him saying) had ever dreamed of in its sleep was as real as everything it sees, hears, and feels in its waking hours and that he presided over them since the first living creature dreamed, and will do so until the end of all life.

He had revealed that he had watched over you, your dreams and your waking hours, since your first meeting, and that he had not meant to scare you, only that he wished for you to accept his advances.

That was the first of his many attempts to get you to say ‘yes.’

He would ask in many ways: a long walk in this garden he called the Fiddler’s Green; a sumptuous dinner in one of his many grand halls; an adventurous tryst in one of the humans’ dreams. He had promised that if you agreed to be courted by him and be with him, he would take you out of your enclosure and release you, allow you to roam his kingdom as his lover, forever wanting nothing and lavishing in all the riches and trinkets he could offer.

From then, you knew you would never be allowed back into the life you had worked so hard to build, humble as it may have been.

At first, your response to his attempts of coaxing you into a relationship with him was a string of incoherent curses and screaming. After a while, they were plain ignored - his face would remain blank every time, if not a tad disappointed, or hurt.

You didn’t care.

But you were also lying if you said it hadn’t worn out your resolve. This day was one of them.

You missed food. Not that you were ever hungry - he had removed hunger from you in your imprisonment. He had given you the gift of dreamless sleep as well, but in your time alone with nothing to do except wake and sleep, you’d give almost anything to have dreams again. You had no other company except him and the vast, endless space beyond your cage that he had conjured for you. You being sealed away from everything was driving you closer to insanity every day, and that was his design: to make you desperate enough to submit to his will.

Without warning, your hair stood at the back of your neck, your senses on high alert.

Dream of the Endless had arrived.

“My precious little saviour,” he greeted in that deep, velvety voice you had grown to hate and find comfort in at the same time. “I have come for you.”

Your captor had a warm smile on his regal features, one that didn’t match his true intentions. You stared at him with a blank expression and let his greeting go unanswered.

“Will you join me for a walk in my garden?”

He kept his eye contact with you as he waited for your response. It unnerved you to no end, the way he held your gaze with those ocean-blue eyes of his, knowing a single ‘no’ from you would instantly turn it to the black ones you have known to fear. When you opened your mouth to speak, it actually hurt your throat - you hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“Will you be locking me up again, after?”

He grinned at you and tilted his head slightly. “If you behave and do as I say, I will not.”

Only a single tear that escaped from your eye betrayed that gnawing feeling of defeat in your gut. Finally swallowing whatever pride you had left, you made a decision.

“Yes.”

You should never have bought him that damned loaf of bread.

***

Just a little one-shot I wanted to write to get myself out of a writing rut I've been stuck with wanting Comatose to be perfect it stressed me out too much :// I will still work on it, I promise! I just need to get this out the way to get my writing mojo back :D

PART II here!!!!

Thank you for reading!!!! Please engage and all that it's really appreciate iiiit

***

#dark!dream x reader #dark!dream x you #dark!morpheus fic #dark!morpheus x you #dark!morpheus x reader #dark!dream oneshot #dark!dream of the endless #dark!morpheus fanfic #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 5 months

Text

𓅨 The Cold is Never Violent: Chapter Five

Warnings: NOT EDITED.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x AFAB!Reader, Pour Vous @melancholypancakes 😘

Word Count: ~3.4k

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Given the fact that Morpheus had bed bound you until your feet healed and the superficial frost bite on your limbs disappeared, you’d have thought that he would at least drop by to ask how you were doing, or, you know, not be a dick by dropping you off and then fucking off without word. But no. You hadn’t seen him since he fixed up part of the palace and deposited you in one of the rooms to heal. You weren’t complaining about the room, or the service, because having handmaidens to take care of you was very nice… but you desperately needed to discuss with him about what exactly had happened in hell, and why he had decided to not use his magic to warm you up.

You could only remember a little about what had happened, but you were very aware of his naked embrace holding onto your body despite your attempts to wriggle away. You could also remember the way his lips felt pressing against your neck and shoulder, and him whispering something to you as you fell back asleep. But nothing was clear in your mind. Certainly not how he felt about you.

Nada was a stark reminder of what could happen, of what would happen. Perhaps he did entertain your feelings… would you inadvertently infuriate him and get cast into hell just as the once queen had been? No, you’d probably experience something worse because you were no queen and not the slightest bit important to humanity. Was it even worth talking to him about the elephant that stood between you? Everyone knew you had a proclivity to test the Endless’ patience.

“So you’re gonna be a coward now?” You grumbled to yourself, throwing the book you had been mindlessly reading for the last hour, to the side. “At this point I just need to talk to him about it.” Eyes dropping to your blanket covered lap, you dragged it to the side to look at your sock covered feet. One of the handmaidens had told you that Morpheus had woven them from an occurring supernova so that they may always keep your feet warm. Given Morpheus’ proclivity for dramatic and extravagance, you didn’t doubt him doing so.

You didn’t bother putting on shoes as you slipped from your bed and grabbed a robe Morpheus had crafted in conjunction to your socks. It was a dark blue, almost black color, and the inside shimmered with the same cosmos that Morpheus’ coat had. Slipping your arms through he warm fabric, you wandered to the exit. Navigating the mess of your rooms was a little disorienting, as the palace was still not entirely put together… Morpheus still had one more tool to get, but you made it to a hallway without too much difficulty and began thinking of the library. You figured that with everything going on, Morpheus would either be in his throne room, or the library. You’d start with the library first since you liked it the most and Lucienne would be there.

The half broken walls around you shifted and groaned, magically transporting you safely to the doors of the library without too much walking on your healing feet. You patted a crumbling column in thanks before entering the large doors and smelling the scent of books and wood. You took a moment to savor it, not having experienced such a strong smell of a library from the Dreaming Library before. Things were finally coming together! That brought a smile to your lips and you skipped your way over to Lucienne’s known hangout. She was hunched over a book, quill in hand as she scribbled on a piece of parchment.

“Hiya Luce,” You greeted her, eyes taking a peek at what she was writing. There were names of the residents on it, all neatly scribbled in her perfect handwriting. “Whatcha doing?”

Lucienne’s ears twitched and her sharp gaze rose to meet yours. What were you doing out of bed? The librarian knew that Morpheus’ mandate to keep you in your rooms to recover from your wounds would do little to enforce such a thing, but she never thought you’d wander this far on your injured feet!

“Pray tell what are you doing up?” She questioned strictly, giving you a disapproving eye. You rolled your own, knowing that she was going to tell you off about being up and about.

“Got bored, need to talk to grumpy pants,” You explained before kicking out a foot. “It’s not like I’m gonna lose my feet. They don’t even hurt anymore… can’t even tell there was something wrong in the first place. These socks are also hella warm…”

“Y/N,” Lucienne stressed out, exasperated at your clear lack of respect and care for your persons. Did you not care that you had been teetering on the brink of death? That you had come ever so close to meeting Morpheus’ sister that night? That Morpheus, in all his pettiness and ire, had managed to fall in love with someone from the same species as the one that had just held him captive for 106 years? Did you even consider what your death would cause him? To the entire Dreaming?? Clearly not. “You must have more self preservation than that which you are certainly displaying at the moment!”

“So… is he around?” You questioned, making a point to ignore her question and focus on your goal. Talk to Morpheus, get answers for his words and treatment of you. “I really do need to talk to him. He’s got some explaining to do and I don’t appreciate his disappearing act.” Lucienne cleared her throat and adjusted her spectacles. Not even death could sway your determination and personality. This was something she would have to leave to you and Morpheus, no matter how tumultuous the Dreaming would become. Quite so at this rate…

“Lord Morpheus is currently seeing to the foundation of the palace with Mervyn.” She told you, giving you the eye that clearly indicated that this conversation was far from over. Well it was as far as you were concerned. “I believe you shall find them in the dungeon?”

“We have a dungeon?” You asked, blinking as your heart started beating faster. No one had said anything about a dungeon before! That was totally unfair and you were going to explore it right now. Lucienne could see your thought process and internally sighed. Your emotions were so fluid and thoughts just the same.

“Yes… now I believe you shall find them near the east wing as it has shown the most… decay.” You nodded in understanding and tapping your palms against your thighs. A dungeon. Oh you could only imagine what you’d find down there! Excitement now buzzing through your veins, your aching footsteps now had a bounce while you strode towards the east end of the palace. As you walked, you noticed how the palace seemed to shiver and tremble, coming more alive than you had ever seen it. Oh yes, Morpheus’ was getting his realm back in order and you were here for it!

The dungeon of his palace wasn’t exactly a dungeon in the typical sense. It held the room holding the tokens of his sibling, a few rooms which a few nightmares reliant on the dark resided, and a cellar for the vineyard wines Mervyn was experimenting with. His main priority was to bolster the structure of the palace and return the homes of his nightmares to proper shape. Mervyn was assisting with the count of returned nightmares thanks to Lucienne’s census.

Rebuilding the latest room, Morpheus watched as the nightmare scuttled into the darkened space with a purr of happiness. While he did not express his emotions upon his face, Morpheus was pleased to see his nightmare appeased with its home. Turning away from the room, Morpheus strode towards the center of the palace dungeon. As he walked, he reformed and reinforced the structural columns. Dust and rock rose in the air and dissipated into solid marble. Mervyn lumbered over, carrying a piece of a broken statue.

“Just finished up cleaning the treasury, most of the work pulled through but a few statues like this one took a hit.” He rumbled while holding out the broken statue. “Not that they can’t be fixed but there might be some trouble from the people who gifted them.”

“Whatever trouble comes from the fae realms, I shall deal with myself,” Morpheus stated, barely sparing the broken statue a glance. He’d been gifted many an artwork over the eons, it was hard for the staff to keep track of at all times. Mervyn had been doing his best to go through the collections but it would take time to determine how much damage had been wrought in the time he’d been gone.

There was almost an infinite amount of work that needed to be done within his realm and Morpheus wasn’t at full power… yet he needed the distraction of rebuilding his realm. If not, Morpheus’ conscious would be consumed by you. You were resting in a finished part of the palace, resting and recovering from the frostbite you’d received from the trip to hell. A trip that Morpheus wished he had forced you to remain behind on.

Not only had you nearly died from hypothermia, but your feet had gotten ripped up from you walking barefoot in addition to frostbite. Morpheus had bit his tongue to stop himself from speaking out about your treatment in hell. It was an egregious insult that he wasn’t in any position to call out. His ruby was still out in the Waking, but you wouldn’t be going anywhere. He was not going to risk your safety again. Morpheus was about to move onto the next project when he went ridged.

He could sense your approaching being.

Without a word to Mervyn, he strode away in a swirl of sand, leaving you to happen upon a confused janitor.

“Hey Merv,” You greeted the pumpkin headed janitor. “Uh, Lucienne said that Morpheus was down here?” You asked looking around in confusion. “I need to talk to him.”

“Uh, the boss just left… I can give him a message for you the nest time I see him if you want?” You frowned and sighed.

“No, no that’s okay,” You muttered unhappily. “I— I have some personal questions I need to ask him but since he’s not here…” You looked around. “Why did no one tell me we have a dungeon and what is down here? This place is kick ass! Do you have a torture chamber? Has Morpheus kept prisoners here? Do you have skeletons in chains!?”

Apparently Morpheus had a palace cook and that resident had returned upon hearing the kitchen was operable again. So you got to indulge in a larger than necessary brunch with Matthew as company. You were the only one seated at the grand table and just looking at all the prepared dishes made you both nauseous and hungry. You were currently indulging in some French toast with the most delectable maple syrup as Matthew told you stories of his childhood. While he wasn’t exactly a human anymore, he was the only one in the realm that you could relate to.

So you had been telling him about recent movies you wanted to see and asking about what he’d seen in the Dreaming since you were still not allowed to leave the palace. With so many dreams and nightmares returning to the realm, the landscape had bloomed with activity. Of course there was still a giant sandy area where Fiddler’s Green had once resided. You wanted to see what he looked like when he returned, but as far as you and Matthew knew, he was still MIA.

Picking at a danish, you offered the Raven bits and crumbs from the baked good. He gobbled them up with a happy croak.

“Oh man I missed eating,” Matthew sighed happily, waddling closer to you and shuffling his wings. “Though I am surprised that I can even taste anything.”

“Bird’s have taste buds, just not as many as a human,” You spoke absentmindedly, ribbing further into the danish. “‘Sides, you aren’t just an another bird. You are a Raven of Dream of the Endless, you’re magical and whatnot. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could do other things most birds can’t.”

“Now you’re just stroking my ego, Y/N,” Matthew sighed, tilting his head at you and examining your face. You’d been rather lost in your thoughts the last few days, demure and very much not behaving like the obstinate human the Dreaming had come to know and love. You hadn’t been the same since returning from Hell. Matthew had chalked it up to it just being Hell. It had clearly affected you when you were physically there, perhaps you were still recovering from it? No. It couldn’t be that.

Matthew knew you to be an exceptionally resilient human, who else would be impervious to Morpheus’ attitude?

“Hey, ah, Y/N?” He broached, cocking his head side and side and shifting on his feet nervously. “Uh, you’ve been kind of off since we got back from hell and I know you were injured and all that but you and Morpheus are acting odd.” The moment Matthew mentioned Morpheus, your hand jerked and you spilled hot tea on your hand. You cursed loudly and the Raven jumped in place with a squawk. “Oh shit!”

“It’s fine,” You uttered quietly, grabbing a napkin and dabbing your throbbing flesh. You didn’t really want to get into the whole ‘Morpheus was avoiding you and you really needed to talk to him because you were pretty sure he owed you some explanations’. Matthew didn’t need to be dragged into your relationship problems, if you could even call whatever the hell was going on between you and the Dream Lord a relationship. That was just wishful thinking on your part. “I need to talk to—”

Your words were cut off the moment the breakfast room doors opened and the very being that you could not rid your thoughts of strode in. Freezing in place for but a moment, you took in a deep and firmly told yourself that you would not let the Endless leave the room until he talked to you. But before you could open your mouth to speak once more, Morpheus was talking.

“Matthew, come, we have business to attend to.” Morpheus spoke, ignoring you and even refusing to look at you. Your eye twitched and you pursed your lips tightly to stop the look of hurt flashing across your face. Swallowing thickly, you spoke up.

“Morpheus—”

“Now,” Morpheus repeated, staring the poor Raven currently looked between his master and his best friend.

“Sorry, Y/N,” The Raven eked out before fluttering over to his master. Without even looking or even addressing you, Morpheus strode from the room. You bit down on your tongue and forced yourself to not go chasing after him with hell on your heels.

You were planning on cornering Morpheus in the library to get him to talk to you. He was researching the whereabouts of his ruby, the last of his belongings that was still missing. From what you had heard from Lucienne, Morpheus had placed a part of himself within the gemstone eons ago, so a large part of his power resided in it. In the wrong hands it could do a lot of damage. So after listening in on Morpheus and Matthew’s last conversation, you had slunk off to the library to get to the book first.

Perhaps it was a little childish of you to get to the book first and then hold it hostage until Morpheus talked to you, but you were at that point given his childishness of avoiding you. He hadn’t spent more than a single minute since you had woken up, in your presence.

You have never been just a subject to me.

Those words were going to drive you insane at this rate, so angrily stomping down an aisle in the library, your eyes scanned the bookshelves in intense scrutiny. You’d find that damn book and hold it hostage until the stupid Endless explained what he had meant by those words and what exactly you meant to him. You were a plain human. Not a queen. Not a goddess. Not a beautiful immortal fae. Just a stupid plain human meddling in things that they probably shouldn’t. In your angry stomps, a book stood out to you.

You paused and cocked your head, peering closer at the book. John Dee. A book of Dreams? The library was quite clever in helping to find books that one needed, so if it was showing you a book of Dreams there must be something in that book that could help you! Reaching for the book, you eased it from the shelf and opened the cover. Oh geez. You only had to review a few dreams to realize that whoever John Dee was, was a very troubled man.

The further you read on, the more intrigued you got, and the large the pit in your stomach became. John Dee. Son of one Ethel Cripps and Roderick Burgess. Roderick Burgess, the very man who was responsible for Morpheus’ imprisonment. Ethel had been the one to run off with Morpheus’ tools, John Dee had been the one the ruby had landed in the hands of. Stomach rolling, you flipped through the pages in fervent manor, trying to figure out where the ruby had ended up. But before you could pinpoint the place John Dee had hidden the ruby, the voice of Morpheus and Lucienne rang out.

“…within the library.” Morpheus’ voice spoke as you closed the book and held it behind your back. The pair emerged with Matthew fluttering over head, and stopped the moment they caught sight of you. Lucienne spoke as Morpheus froze in his spot, not expecting to see you.

“Y/N, I was not expecting to see you within the library at this time. Do you not usually have tea with the kelpies this time of day?” You wanted to look at the librarian and politely reply why you weren’t at tea with the Kelpies, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from Morpheus’.

“Yes, usually I do,” You answered, fingers curling tighter against the book within your grasp. “But I had other plans today, certainly given that Morpheus is still looking for his ruby.”

You saw Morpheus’ eyes narrow and your own gaze turned petulant.

“Consequently, I found a book that gives the exact location of the ruby.” Lucienne’s eyes widened before a smile appeared.

“That is certainly wonderful news, what is the location?” Your eyes went cold.

“I need to have a conversation with Morpheus before I divulge that information given that I have had zero chances of speaking with him the last week.” You boldly stated, lifting your chin. Morpheus’ eyes began softly glowing at your challenge and he stepped forwards, eyes training on the book you held behind your back.

“I do not have time for your audacious actions, Y/N. The book, now.” Your eyes flashed angrily and you refused.

“No. Not until you stop avoiding me and talk like a mature adult!” You snapped back. “Have you forgotten that I am here to help!?”

“I don’t want your help!” Morpheus hissed at you, his eyes glowing like an explosive supernova. You jerked in place like he had physically struck you. You’d been there for him since before he had escaped his cage, helped him get back his sand and helm, and now he was telling you that he didn’t want your help? Fury filled you yet the pain of his words burned within your veins. But you’d rather show fury than the pain now running through your body.

“Then you’re not getting the book.” You stated, your voice now dead from emotion. Morpheus titled his head, unable to understand your obstinance and refusal to do as he bid. Was he not keeping you safe? Were you not well cared for and protected within his realm? Why were you always so insistent in running head long into danger!? He’d put an end to this immediately.

Your jaw clenched when you felt the book in fingers dissolve to sand and flow to the Dream Lord. When it reappeared in his hand and Morpheus promptly and confidently turned his back and strode away, something in your heart broke. He was leaving you behind to retrieve his ruby, and made it clear that he didn’t want your help.

Date Published: 12/7/23

Last Edit: 12/7/23

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