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#dream of the endless x reader
hunny-beann · 4 months
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I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.
Rest Now, Wife, Mine
Dream of the Endless x f!Reader
Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3
Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.
Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.
Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)
Word Count: 1,298
Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.
That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.
She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.
That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.
Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.
"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"
The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.
Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?
He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.
She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.
Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.
Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.
He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.
What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.
He could never love another.
As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.
Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.
What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.
"You are tired, my dear."
The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).
He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,
"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."
He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.
"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."
The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.
He frowned.
"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"
She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.
"No, of course not, I just..."
The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.
"You just what, dearest?"
He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.
"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."
Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).
"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"
He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.
"Poor thing,"
Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.
"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"
He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.
"Rest now, wife, mine."
He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,
"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."
If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.
And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.
After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.
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swanimagines · 1 month
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LOST DREAMS | MORPHEUS
Summary: Your ancestor was cursed by Morpheus long ago so the women in your family would be plagued with eternal wakefulness, but you don't believe in the curse or that some ancient Greek god was the cause of it, like your grandmother always told you about. Doctors have told you that the only reason they can think of is most likely a severe case of ADHD in the family and that's why you never feel sleepy. But then you get a job at a Burgess mansion and find something in the basement that makes your grandmother's stories sounding not so crazy after all...
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Even on her deathbed, your grandma had talked about the "curse" she claimed the whole family suffered from. You could see how it can be seen as a curse, never feeling sleepy and how you always had energy for everything - because of that, you had had plenty of boring moments every day and it did suck. Not to mention, your friends talking about how funny and good dreams they have had always sparked jealousy within you. It was something you had never experienced.
Doctors had researched you since you were a baby, but they couldn't pinpoint a reason for being unable to fall asleep either. They had you running from test to test, even sent you to another country for more tests with a world top sleep disorder clinic, but nothing worked. Some doctors were afraid that your condition is a type of fatal insomnia, and that you were slowly dying. But those were knocked down too with brain scans, and after your grandma and mother could testify that they had been exactly the same since birth, doctors were facing yet another puzzle. The condition was absolutely unheard of. You heard stories that someone in your family had been burned as a witch for not sleeping, which ultimately made you believe it's something running in the family.
And after some debating between doctors, they too decided that it's an extremely rare type of ADHD, the most severe there is, and your family are the first ones it's been detected to have. They also believed that something in your brains had aligned so perfectly that you not sleeping doesn't affect the brains negatively and expressed their will to be able to take your brains for medical research.
Your grandmother, however, wasn't keen on that thought. She had made up her mind that it's the ancient Greek god Morpheus who had cursed you with it, and nothing would be found from her brains.
"Mother, Morpheus is an ancient Greek god. He's not real," you remember your mother saying as you were visiting your grandma in the hospital. "There's also no thing as curses or magic."
Your grandma had pursed her lips and shook her head. "Oh my dear foolish girl, you just don't understand it. Our ancestor, many centuries ago, was Morpheus' lover, and-"
"She rejected him, we all remember," you interrupted. "He cursed her and everyone in her family to never feel tired."
Your grandma had let out a long breath through her nose. "No, he cursed the women with it. Not men. It is said that he became enraged when his lover refused his kingdom, and when she passed away, he took revenge by striking down all of us with this curse, preventing us from getting proper rest. And now, you're the newest one of our family to carrying the curse. Your future daughters will carry it too, and it will be passed on to their daughters in turn."
You had sighed in chorus with your mother, your grandma had always been clearly delusional about it. Likely brainwashed by her own mother, who had been brainwashed by her mother and so on. But you and your mother were new generation, who didn't believe in such absurd stories and had reliable medical research under your fingertips but unfortunately, you had had to listen your grandma talking about it all your childhood.
When your grandma had passed away, you moved out from your hometown and settling to a nice little town in southern England. You got a job as a cleaner-occasional cook-extra pay caretaker in a fancy mansion owned by an elderly couple, and life was good.
But every mansion has its mysteries, and this mansion had one too. A secret door with a hidden passcode tablet, and only some could go in. No one, besides the guards or Alex and Paul, really knew what was behind it, and no one dared to find it out for themselves. After all, everyone knew that if Alex found out that his servant was going into the room, he would likely fire them, so no one dared to try their luck.
No one, except you. You knew how to get in, and even though you never tried before, you had the feeling that it would work. So you had gone in secretly in the middle of the night, your "curse" as your little helper. You had succeeded in distracting the guards and crept your way down the stairs.
You came to a large, dark hall and you swallowed as you switched the light on. The lights blinded you for a moment, and you raised your arm in front of your eyes, before slowly peeking through and your heart jumped a little upon seeing a figure sitting there. It was a man, who was inside a large glass sphere, not even looking at you gawking at him. Then you realised that he was naked, and quickly turned your head away from his lower regions.
"I'm sorry, I...I..." You stuttered, your voice croaking. "I didn't think there's someone here. Everyone is so mysterious and I wanted to see what is it that is kept here. Wait, you... you aren't kept here as a prisoner, are you?"
The man didn't reply, but his eyes shifted at you, and you felt like a mouse caught in the stare of an owl. His gaze was intense, and a shiver ran down your spine.
You took it as a yes. "Can I help you? Can I do anything?" you continued nervously.
The man kept quiet, but you caught something in his eyes, something which looked like disbelief. You opened your mouth to speak again, but then closed it. You glanced over your shoulder before taking a step towards the sphere, and noticed strange vigils in a circle on the ground.
"What's this?" you asked, still somehow wishing the man would say something. Even when you knew he wouldn't. But his gaze was on the circle now too and he cocked his head slightly at it.
"This sounds stupid, but it looks like a summoning circle. I've probably watched supernatural movies a little too much," you chuckled. The man slowly raised his eyes on you again, and then back down again. You frowned. "Do you... want me to break it?" you asked hesitantly.
The man's piercing blue eyes once again met yours. Then he, very slowly, nodded.
You swallowed hard and stepped forward, fingers trembling as you touched the circle with your foot. It immediately felt like some unknown force was pulling at you, like you were being pulled towards it and you made a stroke, erasing a small segment of the circle.
You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and heard noise from the stairway and immediately panicked, looking at the man and then sprinting towards the light. You turned it off and made your way to the farthest corner of the basement, hoping no one would notice you once lights were on.
After a few moments, you heard a chair scrape the stone floor and carefully peered towards the doorway. The other guard had come back and was reading a newspaper. You watched as the man in the glass sphere slowly stood up, pressing his hands on the glass and suddenly, all hell was loose.
A wind surged through the room, knocking the doors open and making a terrible sound. You covered your ears, before realising it wasn't just the wind. There was a bright light, you saw the figure of that man climbing out of the sphere and you screamed, not knowing what was happening.
Suddenly, the guard was on the ground and another bright light appeared. Then the man in the glass sphere was gone, just like that. The light, the wind and the noise had all stopped the moment that man had gone and you slowly got up. Your knees buckled but you forced yourself to go upstairs, to pretend you were never there. You were shaken. What had happened?
---
Some time after that, you were preparing yourself for another book marathon. You didn't feel like watching Netflix right now, so books it was. But then something happened, something that had never happened before.
You fell asleep. You put your head on the pillow and began reading when you were taken over this strange feeling of wanting to close your eyes, so you did. And sleep came. Suddenly, you were transferred in front of a huge castle, dragons and fairies flying over you and a sweet smell that tickled your nose. And you were sure you had lost your mind.
"Hello," a deep voice said from beside you and you twirled around to see the man from the sphere in front of you. Now, fortunately, fully dressed. He smiled and you stared at him, confused.
"How- How are you here?" You asked, frowning. This was absurd, almost like a... dream?
"You're dreaming," the man confirmed your suspicion. Your eyes widened.
"What? H-how?"
"I lifted the curse. So you could meet me."
You blinked. "C-curse?"
"Yes. A long time ago, I cursed a woman who didn't accept my proposal, when I asked her to be my queen when she died. So I told her that every woman who is born in her family, will be cursed by eternal wakefulness." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I was bitter and inconsiderate when I did that, taken by my feelings and sadness."
"Wait, so... my grandmother was right? You... you are..."
"Morpheus, the King of Dreams." He smirked. "Your kind thinks I'm just a story, but I exist, in fact. The whole dream realm exists, and we can't tell stories without dreams."
You still stood there, dumfounded. "You lifted the curse so I'm... I'm able to sleep and dream now?"
Morpheus smiled slightly. "Yes. As a thank you for releasing me."
You blinked again, and then took in your surroundings. A dragon sat next to you, its wings spread wide and a fairy sitting on top of it, playing with some sort of crystal ball.
"If I may, I can show you around the realm?" Morpheus offered and you gave him a nod. "Very well. Follow me."
You started walking with him, and in a few minutes, you arrived at a forest. The trees were tall and wide, with red flowers blooming everywhere. On your left, you could hear the sound of water flowing and on your right, a waterfall. A beautiful place, one that you wanted to stay in forever.
"There is a lake not far from here, where the fairies usually gather. It is very beautiful, would you like to see it?" Morpheus suggested and you nodded. "Follow me."
He walked into the woods, and shortly after that, you reached the lake. The water sparkled in the sunlight, and the land surrounding it was green. Many little houses were built around the edges, and you couldn't help but stare at them. They reminded you of dollhouses, and you quickly realised that they were where fairies lived.
"This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen," you murmured.
"It is." Morpheus agreed. "Would you like to see my palace?"
You looked at him questioningly and he smiled.
"The house of the king of dreams is located in the heart of the realm. You need my permission to enter it, and only a few may. But you have earned my trust."
You nodded. "Thank you."
He smiled again. "Then follow me."
You walked out of the forest, and suddenly were met with the palace once again. It was bigger than you expected, even though you had been expecting it to be big. The garden was large and full of flowers, while the inside was decorated in a warm golden colour, with paintings hanging from the walls. He led you to the library, and you looked around at the bookshelves and the many old manuscripts.
"I heard you like books, so I thought you would like this," Morpheus said, smiling. "You can read whatever you want."
"Really?" You gasped, and his smile grew slightly. "Thank you!"
You went through the endless shelves, looking at all the books you could see. Some you recognised, others you hadn't seen before. Morpheus stood there for a moment, before exiting the room.
Dreams were even more magical than anyone had ever told you, and you couldn't wait to see a whole new world of them.
---
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7-wonders · 7 months
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Wishful Drinking
Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader
Summary: After Morpheus cruelly dismisses you, you decide that you'll get back at him by staying out of the Dreaming one night for as long as you can. What you don't anticipate is letting your feelings get the best of you and getting very drunk instead.
Or, drunk shenanigans galore!
Word Count: 3.5k
Author's Note: I don't know what this is, y'all. I haven't written anything in more than a month, and it was so tough to even write this, but I wanted to write SOMETHING. As always, hope you enjoyed, let me know your thoughts, and likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.
ALSO! Dream logic applies here, in that you're still drunk when you reach the Dreaming.
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Listen.
You know that certain coping mechanisms, like, say, going out clubbing with your friends and getting crazy drunk for the first time in a long time, aren’t exactly healthy. But things have been difficult for you lately! You’ve been struggling a lot, in both your professional and personal life. These hardships are only compounded by the fact that the one person (or person-shaped being) in your life that you thought you could count on, your Morpheus, has been too busy to have time for you.
Literally. He said those exact words to you a mere three days ago, when you had found him in his personal study (a study that he almost never used) after what felt like a day spent chasing him around the Dreaming. You meant for it to come out as teasing when you took note of the fact that you hardly saw him around lately and that it felt like he was purposefully avoiding you, but he had sighed and glared at you before saying, “I have much to do, and I am far too busy to entertain you right now.”
You glowered, but, as he said, he was too busy to see it. Fine, you thought as you turned around and stalked out of his study. Leave him to his business. 
Cut to today. When your friends asked if you wanted to go out with them, you almost said no, having gotten accustomed in the past couple of months to the routine of going to bed by nine o’clock in order to maximize time spent in your lover’s realm. But then, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you didn’t want to just continue sitting around in the Dreaming and hoping that Morphues would come out of whatever funk he was in. After all, why should you make an effort when he won’t? You’re not about to beg for his attention.
With that in mind, you texted back that you very much wanted to go out with them and proceeded to get ready for a fun night out.
The plan was to have a couple of drinks, dance for a bit, and stay out of the Dreaming just long enough to make Morpheus sweat a bit.
But then shots had been ordered.
And your friend bought you a drink because they knew you had had a tough week.
And you bought yourself two drinks.
And a group of guys bought you another round of shots, and though you all laughed at the fact that they were not getting anything out of this, you still took them because you weren’t about to turn down free alcohol.
This leads to you and your friends stumbling out of a bar at two in the morning, holding each other up as you do. Definitely not the plan, but what’s that one quote about plans and mice and men?
“What about a mouse?” your friend asks from beside you, making you realize that you said that out loud.
“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” you say.
Somehow, you make it into a Lyft (thank the gods for friends who don’t get carried away), and somehow, you make it into your home. Not without its difficulties–you dropped your keys multiple times on the walk to your front door, and there might be a you-shaped indent in the entryway wall from where you fell into it when trying to kick your shoes off. 
When you reach your bedroom, you decide that actually, the floor looks comfier than your bed does. You’re so drunk that the room feels like it’s spinning when you lay down, and you close your eyes to enjoy the ride.
“Fuck, I’m so drunk right now,” you say out loud, laughing at the sound of your slurred words.
You don’t mean to fall asleep, really. You know that you need to crawl to the bathroom to wash your face and find enough dexterity to change clothes before hopefully sobering up just enough that you can make it to the kitchen to grab painkillers and water for the inevitable killer hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. The floor is just so soft, though, and you work yourself into a trance-like state by staring up at the ceiling fan and watching it go around and around and around. On one blink, you’re staring at your ceiling.
And on the next, you’re staring at another ceiling, one that’s not really a ceiling at all, but an entire galaxy above your head.
It’s easy to get lost in the magnificent colors swirling above you (especially in your current state), and you do, until you hear someone calling your name. When you look away from the universe, you see the love of your life looking at you, though at present, he is not reciprocating the heart eyes that you are always looking at him with.
“Where have you been?” Morpheus demands.
“Morpheus, my love!” You throw your arms out and grin. “I’ve missed you.”
“Do you have any idea how worried I have been? I sent Matthew to find you hours ago when first you were late, only for him to report that he could not find you at your home.” You’re a little surprised that Matthew hadn’t managed to track you down; your little raven friend was almost scarily good at finding people/places/things.
“Aw, you’ve missed me?” It makes sense, of course; after all, you’ve missed him, so it’s only natural that he would miss you in return. Still, the sentiment makes you feel all warm and melty on the inside.
 It’s obvious to anybody who actually takes the time to know Morpheus—a tiny list of people and beings, two of whom are in the room with him right now—that he’s fighting a war between wanting to scold you and wanting to hold you and check you up and down for wounds. Morpheus crosses the room towards you, and you ready yourself for the inevitable lecture you’re about to get, about how you’re just a fragile little human and he worries every moment that you’re away from him (y’know, now that you have the clarity of a drunk person, you’re actually annoyed that this is constantly coming from the being that’s meant to be your lover).
But that’s not what happens.
Instead, you find his arms wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in your neck. He’s hugging you, not the other way around. He’s never done such a thing before, and you don’t know how to react. What you do know is that any of the residual anger you had been feeling drains out of you like water from an unstoppered bathtub. You really didn’t think that being away for—the math isn’t mathing for you currently, and you don’t actually know how long it’s been—a couple of hours would affect him this much.
“You are the one most dear to my heart,” he mutters into your ear, cognizant of the fact that you are not alone in this throne room. “Of course, I missed you.”
“Oh. When you said you were ‘too busy to entertain’ me, I just kinda assumed you wouldn’t notice I was gone.” Though you don’t mean to weaponize your words, the poison darts make contact with their target anyway, and Morpheus stiffens in your hold.
“Are you alright?” he asks instead, choosing to wait until a later time to have this particular conversation.
“Aw, dream boy” you coo, snaking a hand up to clumsily run it through his hair. “I’m okay baby, swear it! Like, absolutely, one hundred percent fine.”
Morpheus pulls away from you so that he can look you up and down to confirm that you really are okay. “You smell like a pub,” he notes. 
“How can you tell that in the Dreaming?”
He ignores your question when a realization seems to hit him. “Are you inebriated?”
“No, I’m drunk,” you correct very matter-of-factly.
“That is–” he stops, choosing instead to just shake his head.
“Oh, dear,” Lucienne mutters from behind Morpheus, reminding you of her presence in the first place.
“Lucienne! Hi! How have you been!” 
You crane around Morpheus to be able to see your favorite librarian, but you almost fall over in the process. Before you can tip too far over, Morpheus is there to right you again. When he does, he looks down at you with quite the serious expression on his perfect face.
“Who did this to you?” he asks, ready to punish whoever put you in such a state.
“Vodka. Rum, maybe?” You think back on your drinks for the evening, though it’s hard to think back that far. “Yeah, the second round of shots was definitely rum.”
“You put yourself in this state?”
“Yes?” Has Morpheus never heard of the concept of going out and getting shitfaced with your pals? “To be fair, I didn’t think that my drunkenness would…” You search for the word that you want to use, but it’s just not coming to you! “Uh, carry over?”
“Please tell me you managed to make it home safely?”
You nod. “Sure did! Pretty sure I fell asleep on the floor, though.”
Lucienne slowly begins to back up towards the door, and Morpheus stares at you for a long moment before sighing heavily.
“Are you mad at me?” you ask nervously, starting to get upset the longer the silence drags on. Did you say something that you shouldn’t have? Is there a rule you don’t know about against sleeping on floors?
Instead of answering you, Morpheus waves a hand in the air and says, “This dream is over.” 
You’re awake and once again staring up at your ceiling fan, only this time, Morpheus is also in your line of sight. It’s impossible to stop yourself from touching him when you’re sober, so it’s not at all surprising that your hands go up to caress his face now when you’re drunk.
“Hi cutie,” you greet, laughing in delight when he flushes just the slightest amount.
He grabs your hands and kisses the back of both before setting them against your chest. “Why are you sleeping on your floor?”
“Because,” is your simple, childish reply.
“That is not a good answer.”
“It’s the one you get because it’s the one I have.” You throw in a peace sign to be extra spicy, but Morpheus, unfortunately, doesn’t comprehend your 21st-century humor, and instead just segues into the next order of business.
“Might I help you up, so that we can get you properly ready for bed?”
“But I’m comfy,” you groan. Morpheus is not buying what you’re selling, unfortunately, so you sigh. “Fine.”
Morpheus holds his hands out for you to take and helps you to your feet. Too fast, apparently, because the room begins to spin and your stomach tilts dangerously, making you clap a hand over your mouth.
“Oh no. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy,” you chant, squeezing your eyes shut and laying your head against Morpheus’s shoulder while you try to breathe through sudden nausea. You will not throw up on your super hot eldritch nightmare king boyfriend, you command yourself. Not tonight, and not ever.
“What is wrong?” Morpheus sounds panicked, and you want to reassure him, but you hold up a finger in the meantime.
When the nausea finally passes, you take a deep breath and slowly look up. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Sometimes drinking too much combined with moving too fast makes people feel sick. It’s my fault, but I’ll be okay.”
“Are you well enough to move?”
“Yes, I promise.” 
To prove your point, you let go of his hand and start walking heel to toe as the police require during field sobriety tests (honestly, you’re a little surprised that you can actually do this right now). You can practically feel your lover's amusement behind you, but it proves to him that you are capable. Morpheus lets you walk to the bathroom on your own power, and you think the only reason he doesn’t sweep you off your feet is because he’s worried you’ll throw up if he does. He watches you intently the entire time, though. 
You sit on the lip of the bathtub, watching Morpheus move about your bathroom as though he knows where everything is; he probably does, you realize, whether it be from that endless wealth of knowledge about everyone and everything that he possesses, or just his familiarity with your home. After rummaging around for a few moments, he comes back with a washcloth and your favorite pajamas. The sight of the familiar material makes you tear up, and you sniffle loudly.
Morpheus looks up in alarm. “Are you okay?”
“You remembered my favorite pajamas,” you say, trying to not start crying. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s come directly to see you off to his realm, and you’ve probably worn those pajamas twice. Yet he remembered the one-off comment you had made about how they were your favorite because of course he did.
His face softens. “Of course I did.”
You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. “Sorry. I’m okay! Just drunk.”
Morpheus hands you said pajamas before turning the faucet on and letting the water run. He seems to realize something after a moment and looks at you helplessly. “I do not feel temperature as you do. Is the water alright?” 
You grin and stick your hand under the faucet, moving the tap just a smidge hotter before nodding at him. “It’s good now. Thank you for asking.”
He begins to run the damp washcloth gently over your face, a barely-there smile appearing on his own when you wrinkle your nose at the cool sensations. Where this situation would be awkward with anybody else, it feels entirely natural with Morpheus. You’ll take these little moments of domesticity with him whenever you can get them, even when you’re still half drunk.
Even if you wanted to, you can’t hold yourself back from saying, “You’re so beautiful, do you know that? Seriously, you’re the prettiest man-slash-anthropomorphic-personification I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” The words are heavy on your tongue, but you’re pretty proud of the way you only barely stumble through ‘anthropomorphic’.
“You are still under the influence,” he notes.
“So? Drunk words equal sober thoughts, right?”
“‘A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.’ Jean-Jacques Rosseau,” he supplies.
“Sure, that. I’d tell you how pretty you are even if I was sober, and you know that.”
“Perhaps.” He says it in that infuriatingly sexy way of his, the one that makes you want to tear his clothes off.
Instead, you’re the one taking your own clothes off, though not for any fun reason. Getting changed is not as difficult a task as it would have been when you first arrived home, with the benefit of time naturally sobering one up on your side. Morpheus still keeps a hand held out, just in case you lose your balance and need something to grab onto, but after you’ve finished changing, that hand slips under your shirt and caresses your side.
“Thought you were supposed to be helping me keep my clothes on,” you say with a shiver, grabbing his wrist and pulling the offending extremity out from under your shirt.
“Apologies.” His tone implies that he’s not sorry at all, not that you would want him to be. “I simply couldn’t resist.”
He looks down at you with so much love in those blue eyes of his that you feel like you don’t think your mortal mind could ever truly comprehend it. Nobody has ever loved you the way that Morpheus has—all-consuming and passionate. He told you once that many of his relationships had ended because he had been seen as too intense, too obsessive in his love. Bring it on, you had told him when he expected you to back down. To date, you haven’t regretted that.
You don’t think you ever will.
Now that you can see the end of your night in sight, tiredness begins to seep into your bones. Though your bed is just right through the bathroom door, it feels miles away. With that in mind, you ask,  “Will you carry me?” 
“Were you not worried that you would feel sick?”
“Yeah, but I’m tired.” You pout (on purpose because you know what it does to him), and you can practically see his resolve break. “Just be careful?”
“Always,” he promises.
And careful he is, slowly picking you up and waiting until you nod to carry you to your bed. He sets you down gently, You’re thrilled to see a glass of water already waiting for you on your bedside table, Morpheus anticipating your needs before you’ve even realized you have them in the first place.
Crawling under the covers after finishing your water, you motion for Morpheus to sit next to you on the bed. He does as you ask, and you move your pillows so that you can sit up and lean on him. When you’re comfortable, you say, “Thank you for everything tonight. I know taking care of me wasn’t what you had planned.”
“You need not thank me. I enjoy caring for you, no matter the situation.” 
Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his hand carding through your hair, and you start to feel yourself inching closer to the Dreaming. Something keeps you from truly falling asleep, though, and when Morpheus shifts next to you, you realize what it is: the conversation’s not over. Morpheus is trying to figure out how to say what it is he wants to say.
Finally, he figures it out. “Might I ask you something?”
You open your eyes to give him your full attention and nod.
“Earlier, when you seemed surprised that I had noticed your absence. Did you do this,” ‘this’ being getting very drunk, “because of what I said?”
“No. I mean, I went out because I was mad at you, and I figured that me being a couple of hours late would make you learn your lesson, but I got drunk because I wanted to have fun with my friends and let loose.”
“And did you?”
“Maybe a little too much,” you admit cheekily.
“I apologize for my harsh words the other day. I have been…feeling burdened under the weight of my realm, and I took it out on you for no reason.”
“It’s okay, Morpheus. You’re busy running an entire realm and overseeing the collective unconscious. I shouldn’t be so needy.”
He shakes his head. “It is not okay. I should never talk to you in such a way, and you should never feel as though I do not want you around. I do want you around, always.”
“People say things that they don’t mean. That doesn’t mean they’re not worthy of forgiveness. But you gotta talk to me, okay? When you’re feeling stressed, or when things get to be too much. I’m here for you, and I want to support you however I can.”
“I love you,” he says. The fact that he’s being so open with his emotions is a pleasant surprise; it took him so long to be the first to say it, and even longer to be comfortable with it. You smile up at him.
“I love you, too. Stay with me until I fall asleep?”
“Of course.”
Morpheus turns your bedroom light off without you needing to ask (seriously, you love him so much), and you close your eyes. Then, a thought hits you.
“Hey,” you say, staring up at him in the dark and waiting until he looks at you to continue. “Can you get drunk?”
“No.”
“Why not? I mean, isn’t there special alcohol for preternatural beings? You’d think gods and goddesses would’ve figured out a way to get turnt by now.”
Though he doesn’t want to give in to your rambling when you’re meant to be trying to fall asleep, he can’t help but indulge you. “Gods and goddesses can. We, the Endless, cannot.”
“What? That’s so fucking lame. No. That’s–that’s an injustice! I’m so sorry.
“I promise, it is okay. Now, please go to sleep.”
You nod, but close your eyes for maybe thirty seconds before they snap open again with a realization. “Wait.”
“What?”
“You mentioned other gods and goddesses. How many are there? Are they all real? Is actual God real? I mean, I know the devil is real, you kicked their ass for your helm, but for some reason that’s more believable than–”
“Go. To. Sleep,” Morpheus commands.
“Ugh, you’re no fun!”
“I am not afraid to use my sand if need be.”
“You wouldn’t.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and he raises one right back. After a brief stalemate, you’re the first to give in. “You have to understand how world-altering this information is to a regular human like me, I mean–”
You’re asleep before your head hits the pillow.
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withoutyouimsaskia · 5 months
Text
Don't Stop (Sandman One-Shot)
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​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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dyns33 · 2 months
Text
For a smile
Dream of the Endless x female reader, sweet fools as ever
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Following the formalization of their relationship, Morpheus had been very clear with Y/N on two points.
He wasn't dancing, and he wasn't laughing.
Regarding the first point, he never gave a real explanation, simply refusing to move as Y/N spun around him to the music, frozen like a statue and calmly repeating that he didn't dance, ever.
Concerning his laughter, she had managed to make him laugh several times, and it quickly became apparent that he was simply ashamed, because this laughter was quite peculiar, to use simple and neutral terms, since the dreams master was easily hurt. It was likely that he was also simply ashamed of the way he danced.
Y/N had made the decision not to force him to do things he didn't like or that made him uncomfortable. It seemed normal in a relationship after all, even if Morpheus had some difficulty with the concept at first.
Fortunately they had talked about it, and he had come to accept his mortal lover's requests, even if he didn't understand them all.
“Why do you want me to knock on your door to enter your home ?”
"Because maybe I'm busy or with someone."
"… Do you have things to hide from me, agápi mou ?"
"No, but it's just being polite. I know I enter your kingdom every night without really asking you, but you sense that I'm coming. For my part, I almost have a heart attack every time you appear behind me without making a sound."
"I can send Matthew to let you know I'm coming so you won't be surprised."
"Dream. The door."
“Very well, agápi mou.”
"… I'm really not hiding anything from you, you know ?"
“I know, I was just saying that to tease you.”
It was sometimes difficult to know what Morpheus was thinking.
Not always, because the Dreaming reflected his mood without him being able to do anything about it, and he had difficulty with certain feelings, like sadness or anger.
But joy. Dream of the Endless had difficulty expressing joy.
It wasn't just the laughter that was the problem. He rarely smiled. So rarely that Y/N almost jumped the first time she saw this wonder appear on his face, and he had no excuse to hide this sweetness from her. His skin hadn't cracked, his features hadn't distorted, he was even more handsome than usual.
Y/N dreamed of seeing him smile more often, if not always. But his lips remained frozen in a flat, imperturbable line most of the time.
The few times the smile appeared, it was sudden, so vivid that you only had to click your eyes at the wrong time to miss it, and each time it was as if Y/N was seeing it for the first time.
A pure marvel.
In order not to scare Morpheus, who tended to act like a wild cat, Y/N tried not to stare too much or show interest. As discreetly as possible, she nevertheless did everything to make him offer her this spectacle.
Most of the time it worked, but Dream also smiled without her needing to do anything, simply because she said or did something he found charming.
“Are you still trying to hear my laugh ?”
"Not at all ! I swore I wouldn't do it again. Why ?"
“You’ve been terribly distracted and affectionate lately, agápi mou.”
"I'm just happy to be with you." She said, resting her head on his shoulder, her arms around him. "You're very distracting, and huggable."
"It is rather you who deserves such adjectives. I have a lot of difficulty concentrating on my task. Your presence in my domain monopolizes all my attention, and I only think of you when you are awake, waiting for your returning or fighting the urge to visit you in the Waking."
"Flatterer."
Her response made him smile again and Y/N felt butterflies in her stomach.
When Morpheus talked about needing to see her, Y/N could understand the feeling. She felt the same way about him, but also about his smile.
She asked the inhabitants of the Dreaming for advice. Lucienne thought poems might help. Abel had time to respond that talking about old stories would give him pleasure, before Cain planted an axe in his head, saying that she could confide secrets to the nightmares master. Mervyn made some rather indecent comments about strawberries and a bed. Matthew simply begged her to keep the Dreaming from raining again.
“It’s adorable that you try to make him smile, but you know him, I know him, if he misunderstands something, it will be a disaster.”
“Why would he take it badly that I wanted to make him smile ?”
"He might think you're mocking him. He's very sensitive, this guy."
"I don't know what he went through before we were together, but I would never make fun of him. I just want him to be happy."
"I know, kid. But does he know that ?"
She should have listened, and remembered once again that Dream was a big, timid cat, unaccustomed to receiving signs of affection. He didn't hate that she surrounded him with love, but he seemed lost that it was so common.
Such an outburst of passion could only be linked to madness, and he knew that Y/N was not in his younger sister's domain. Maybe she wanted to get something in return.
After some time, Y/N then got the exact opposite of what she was looking for. Each of her romantic or generous actions received an almost frightened look from Morpheus, his entire face resembling that of a marble statue, devoid of a smile.
She might have been afraid if she hadn't known he would never hurt her. Following the many mistakes he had made in the past with his lovers, Dream had ended up learning certain things, like keeping calm, and trying to communicate.
The key word being 'trying'.
"Ilie mou, you offer me so much affection, what can I give you in return ? Is your sleep disturbed ? Are you lacking inspiration ? Do you have a particular need ?"
"No. Everything is fine." Y/N replied, not understanding that his questions were full of confusion and fear.
"… I see. Is it honey then ? A little sweetness before having to announce something bitter ?"
"If it's a poem, it's quite strange. I don't have any honey, Morpheus. Would you like some tea ?"
He ended up believing that she wanted to leave him, but without knowing how to tell him, too kind or worried that he would react violently like with the others before her.
The thought crossed his mind that the process was far too cruel for Y/N. It seemed absurd to shower him with love in order to protect his feelings, only to tell him right after that she didn't love him anymore.
But it happened that some beings were thinking with their hearts, not listening to reason, and it was always possible that his beloved had not seen that far.
"I knew it… It's raining."
"Why do you say that like I'm responsible ? He might be saddened by something else, Matthew."
"He would have talked to you about it. Or he would have talked to me about it. He would have talked to someone about it. He loves to complain when it concerns his family or his work. Everyone needs to know that he is the poor wretch who has done nothing wrong and is trying to save the world. But for private matters ? He hides in a corner."
"… But he has no reason to be sad. It's true that he seems worried lately, but everything is fine between us."
It was a conversation as surreal as it was depressing, having to explain to the dreams lord that all the attention he had received for several weeks had no hidden meaning, no tragic end, but only the desire to make him happy and to see him smile, without expecting anything else in return.
That, he could understand. Morpheus loved seeing Y/N smile. It was just the fact that someone might care about him that was new to him. Absurd. Not deserved.
"Besides, agápi mou, I am happy in every moment spent with you. I tell you as soon as you ask me. Why so much fuss about my mouth ?"
“Don’t say that sentence again in that voice, I might faint.”
"So it's a question of aesthetics ? Don't you like my 'sulky goth teenager look' ?"
“I never said such a thing.”
“No, Matthew said so.”
"Hmm. I won't deny that you look beautiful when you smile and that's a plus. But I love you, even when you pout."
“I’m not pouting.”
"Of course not."
“I love you too, Ilie mou.” he said, kissing her.
Y/N’s response was to stare at him with wide eyes. Dream stared back, raising an eyebrow. She raised both, as a challenge, continuing to look at him, before she couldn't suppress her smile.
He rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop his lips from curling. The message was clear, even though they knew they were happy together, it was still nice to see their loved ones' faces lit up like that.
As with many things, it wasn't usual for the Endless, but smiling came naturally in Y/N's presence, so it shouldn't be too difficult to please her. Maybe one day they will even dance.
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Text
heavenly. ~ morpheus x reader (18+)
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Summary: There are no words for how heavenly the sight of Morpheus falling apart underneath you is. II smut
Words: 719
Warnings: smut smut smut
Pairing: Morpheus x fem!Reader
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Head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted, hair tousled – a memory of your hands gripping it when he slid inside of you –, Morpheus is a sight for the Gods as you move on his lap.
The sounds escaping his mouth when you leave a trail of kisses on his neck are downright heavenly and the way he grabs your thighs, fingers burying themselves into the softness of them, makes you shiver.
The moonlight dimly illuminates his pale face and the stars and galaxies move slowly in the inside of his coat that he spread underneath you. When your name falls from his lips, soft and murmured like a prayer not meant for your ears, he shows you his true essence for the first time, becoming the very definition of a dream.
You lean back, looking for support on his legs, to see him better, to drink up his presence, drown in his sounds, melt in his touch.
“You’re distracted.” It’s a statement or an accusation, you’re not sure but it bothers you nonetheless. You don’t want him talking, you want to hear what sounds you can draw out of the Endless with the simple movement of your hips.
His eyes are now open, hands holding on even tighter. You don’t stop and feel him shudder. “I’m watching you,” you whisper into the night, a smile tugging on your lips. “Not such a bad idea after all, wasn’t it?”
He hears the challenge in your tone, the spark in his eyes tells you and the raspy tone confirms it. “I still prefer you underneath me, my love.”
You roll your eyes and your rhythm changes. You speed up, hips moving in the most delicious way and it makes him fucking moan. “Keep telling yourself that,” you chuckle, knowing full well that he will get back at you for this later on. But now, he is too occupied with the way you feel all around him.
Your breath hitches when he presses you down onto him and his hips rock up. A curse leaves your mouth that turns into whimpers and soft moans as he moves with you. One of his hands travels down but you push it away. He groans.
“Later,” you murmur. Now, you want to see him being lost in you, want to see him unravel. The thrill that rushes through your body feels unreal – it’s the pure thought of the God of Dreams, an Endless, falling apart from your touches, that turn you on even more.
Morpheus is close, you can feel it. His voice grows darker, his moans louder, and in your own body, the knot tightens. It tightens and tightens and when his movements begin to lose control, become more erratic with each thrust, it doesn’t take long for you to see stars in front of your eyes. You come, soft and trembling, back arching and with his name on your lips. He follows you shortly after and fuck, you just know that the image of him will never leave you again.
The waves of your orgasm wash over you and suddenly you lack any strength to hold yourself up any longer. He wraps an arm around you when you sink down to rest on his chest. He’s still breathing heavily, even when his fingers trace lazy lines on the skin of your body. You smile.
“You are awfully proud of yourself right now, aren’t you?”
The smile only widens at his words. “I have every right to be, Dream Lord,” you tease him. “I proved you wrong.”
He laughs silently underneath you. “Did you now?”
“Mhh,” you make and prop yourself up on the elbows. “Admit it, you loved having me on top of you.”
He watches you, mischief in his eyes. “Not more than having you underneath me.”
“As if. I believe the whole Dreaming heard you just now.”
He moves quick. So quick that you can’t help but yelp as he flips you over, pinning your wrists above your head. His lips hover about yours, his breath a ghostly touch, and your heart starts to beat faster. “My love, it doesn’t matter if they heard me. They didn’t hear you,” he murmurs, “and I believe that is the true shame here.”
They hear you after that, Morpheus makes sure of that.
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thank you for reading! <3
masterlist
4K notes · View notes
auroraborealyss · 2 years
Text
𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐬' 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐈.
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⊹ pairing: morpheus x reader
⊹ summary: the much awaited, i-went-to-hell-for-inspiration, morpheus' love languages part 2: nsfw version. how he expresses his love languages when fucking you
⊹ tags: nsfw, morpheus is an adoring, reverent, woman-worshipping Endless who's always on his knees, the king of dreams is a giver
⊹ warnings: explicit language, explicit content (obviously), minors stay back (not that ever stopped me. if you are a minor, just know that sex might not be like this and do more research)
⊹ word count: 3027
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⊹ previous part: morpheus' love languages part i.
⊹ now playing: take me to church by hozier
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words of affirmation though he isn't the most vocal as an Endless, he does become vocal as a lover. or, specifically, he wants you to be. remember when i said he likes it when you talk to him? this applies here. (of course, by the time he's done with you, you won't be able to form words. but he'll accept desperate mewls of his name.)
call him by his name
not dream, but morpheus
gasp, groan, grunt, scream, whimper, murmur — every adjective of ‘said’ — say it in that way. he loves when you say his name and he the different ways you say it is akin to music. and if you whisper it right in his ear, his name hot against him so he can feel your desperation, he might just give you what you want and fuck you harder and faster
you tried to hold your moans back once
biggest mistake of your life
it doesn’t matter if you were only trying to hold back because you were in the library and mervyn, lucienne, and matthew were just three shelves down having a very serious meeting
though normally private in pda, perhaps that day morpheus was too frustration in being king and just wanted to be your lover. only a king had to worry about looking good in front of others. as your lover, all he had to worry about was pleasing you, and hearing the sounds you make was his signal that he was doing well
you thought that the sound of the shelves being rocked, your heavy breathing, and a book falling every now and then was telling enough what you were doing, and yes, you were a bit embarrassed to be found in such a compromising position with your skirt bunched up to your waist, one leg hooked around morpheus, and your head tilted to the sky as he attacked your neck
so when you bit down on your lip and slapped a hand over your mouth to hide your moans?
he is insulted (and you know how petty he gets) and fucks you even harder and faster than before
hoists both of your legs around his waist so he’s even closer and hits a spot in you that has you moaning obscenely and seeing stars. there’s no use hiding or explaining that away, but you don’t even think of the others anymore. all you can focus on is how he slams repeatedly into you again and again, one had rubbing furious circles on your clit, whispering orders in your ear to never deprive him of your sounds ever again
that as his lover, he owns every part of you (he definitely owns me), including those delicious sounds he purposefully and rightfully earns
and when you start making those sounds again, he is so fucking pleased with himself that he gets even harder
your hand falls from your mouth on its own and finds his hair, tugging on it, harder and harder as you reach your peak and he follows shortly after when you clench around him—all done with a loud cry of his name from you and your name coming out as a pleading grunt from him
when the two of you finally catch your breath, you peek around the shelves and find them gone
morpheus smirks at you before dragging you to the table for part two since “they’re not here anyway.”
always asks for consent
no matter how caught up he is in his emotions or pleasure, always asks you if you’re doing alright and if he’s doing alright touching your body
this man has a praise kink. tell him he’s doing well
tell him he’s fucking you so good as tears run down your cheeks and he’ll all but cum in you in that moment
tell him you were made for him as he bottoms out in you, and he’ll flip you over to your stomach and have his way and ruin you, leaving you a rambling mess who’s only coherent thought is his name
“you can take a little bit more of me, can’t you?” he whispers against your ear as you bite your lip to hold back your whimpers as he pushes inch by inch further, deeper, closer, into you. “you’ll do that for me?”
“you’re gonna make me cum” > “i’m going to cum”
he’ll make you squirt in thanks for reminding him that you’re orgasm is a product of his hard work
did you see how he pleaded with calliope to let him help her? imagine him begging to let him make you feel good
"i can make you feel so good, my love," he whispers as he puts one nipple in his mouth, suck and bite it gently, tugging on it, before releasing it and going to the other one. "let me?"
praise talk is his dirty talk. more into overstimulation and praise rather than edging and degradation cause he’s too in love with you to ever say those things or have you think, even for a second, that you are anything less than too good for him
type of person to say “i love you” as he fucks you
at the most intense moments, like when he’s about to orgasm, he mindlessly rambles out pleads for you to always stay with him and he needs you and you’re the only thing he needs (say less)
so tell him you need him. tell him only he can make you feel this good. because he’s definitely a giver, and the best compliment you can give a giver is to thank them for their service and tell them they’re doing a good job
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physical touch this is an Endless who falls hard and intensely in love, as we see with his past lovers. it stands to reason that he'd fuck the same way. he makes sure that he is touching every inch of your body and you are touching every inch of him
has a thing for walls
likes to fuck you against them. either your back to it with your legs wrapped around his waist, or the side of your face pressed against it with your hands on either side as he takes you from behind
he will also eat you out with your back against a wall. makes it his personal mission to make your legs woozy enough that you literally collapse and he has to hold you up or you’re falling on the ground
overstimulation
worships your body
kissed every inch of your body once
on the days that you don’t feel the most confident, he’ll whisper his gratitude towards those parts against your skin until you believe him
is still a sucker for eye contact
looks up through his lashes as he eats you out
looks down at you as he fucks into you
but just because he wants to be gentle and passionate with you, doesn’t mean you can’t be rough with him. in fact, he welcomes it
tug his hair hard as he eats you out and you’ll hear the most guttural groan which you’ll feel vibrate in your cunt
dig your nails down his back and his hips will snap against yours in a speed that reminds you your lover is not a man, but an Endless
suck and bite his neck and enjoy watching him gasp and tighten his grip against your hips, enough to leave his handprint on your skin
however, there is one time you can elicit some roughness from him, and that’s when you ride him
you’ve ridden him on his throne
it was your idea the first time, and his idea every time after
legs on either side, his arms wrapped desperately against your waist as you slam down onto him and he slams up against you
he grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs your head backwards (see gif as example), exposing the column of your neck which he can mark and litter with kisses and bites
a very passionate lovemaker and puts emotions other than lust into it. when you two have sex, he doesn’t just do it to get rid of frustration or because he feels lust for you, but because he loves you enough to want to share this other part of him that so few get
is the type to link your hands together while he slides in and out
presses his forehead against yours when on top of you. he expects you to do the same when you’re on top
if he’s not waiting at your cunt with an open mouth as you orgasm, then he’s kissing you, as if to swallow the sounds of pleasure you make and further drowning in you
can unclasp your bra with one hand
pulls your underwear down with his teeth
bites on thighs
and neck
and chest
i’m not saying this man cries during sex (not that there’s anything wrong with that). but he does constantly have glassy/teary eyes during the show, so don’t be surprised if he gets a bit overwhelmed with his feelings for you and shed a tear or two
just kiss it away
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acts of service he's always worshipped you before his capture, but after, he turns into a sinner looking for absolution from the only higher being he'd beg from. and the first step to absolution is looking for it on his knees
the first time you have sex after you reunite, he begs for forgiveness for being gone from you so long in his throne room
sits you on his throne and sinks to his knees before you
doesn’t even bother locking the door because he has no shame in anyone seeing him beg for absolution to you
and he doesn’t hold back from it either, alright? this Endless is making the most obscene noises as he loudly slurps and groans at the taste of you and moans at the sounds of you and ruts against his throne at the feeling of you, you, you
the first time you cum, he doesn’t stop and keeps fucking you with his tongue until he triggers a second one less than a minute later
he’ll add a finger soon enough
crooks it at just the right spot that it presses against the spongy part of you that makes your back arch off the throne and cum for the third time. at this point, your cum has started to drip off his throne, and he thinks about adding it as a design to his chair (you slap him on the back of his head as a no)
inserts another finger and starts pumping it in and out, in and out, even doing a scissor motion every now and then. you come the fourth time
the fifth time, he does all that plus play with your clit with his tongue. flicks at it, sucks on it, does everything you can possibly imagine be done with a tongue and two fingers until you squirt
and he still drinks it all. he takes those two fingers and uses it to scoop up all your cum and drinks it all
he always swallows whatever he’s able to draw out of you and whatever you’re willing to give him
and don't forget to sit on his face
he'd be more than happy to die underneath you, smothered by your thighs and cunt
if you try to do hold back and hover over his face, he'll ask you first if you like to squat over chairs rather than sit on them, before grabbing your things and pulling you down and not releasing you until he's done
if it isn’t clear yet, this man is a giver. gets genuine pleasure when he is the one to give you pleasure and can probably cum just from seeing you orgasm from his ministrations (he has and has no shame in it)
it might be how his possessiveness shows. knowing that only he can give you orgasms that intense is something he prides himself on
probably why he doesn’t mind when others look at you. all he’s looking at is your reactions, and you never show interest. you never give them the looks or sounds you make with him, and that’s enough that he just sits back, smirks, and pities the poor person who tried to hit on you
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quality time as kim namjoon says in all night: "we keep all the party in this room all night. we don't wanna put it on the brake, hold tight."
the first time you reunite, he eats you out for hours
only stops because your body literally cannot go any longer and you might pass out (he debates whether he wants you to but lets you rest)
but the first time he fucks you, he doesn’t stop until you’re a whimpering, drooling mess who’s only thought is morpheus
and you do pass out
he’s there when you come to, and he starts again
morpheus rarely does quickies. he’s too intense and long-term for that. he likes to take his time to worship you and he doesn’t want to end because he ran out of time or he has an appointment with someone else. when he’s with you, you’re all he’s thinking about
however, he does like to take his time teasing you
and by that, i mean he can give you little teasing touches all day to get you worked up
hand on your upper thigh when eating with others
presses his front against your back as he reaches for something in the cabinet
might even touch you through your underwear without giving you too much—just to keep you wanting and waiting
he can last a pretty long time, and sessions with him usually involve you cumming so many times that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to cum again (you will. he’ll show you)
always engages foreplay. involves a heavy make out session coupled with groping that leads you to being wet enough that he can just slip inside you
likes to fuck you where its comfortable for you—bed, a couch (walls are his guilty pleasure, though)
will fuck you anywhere in the dreaming, though, cause it’s all him
might even be more intense for him since he can feel whatever surface he’s fucking you on and how hard he’s fucking you or how tight and desperate you’re holding on to the edge of that table
morning sex isn't as common since that's when you wake up from the dreaming
night is definitely prime time for sex
you know you're in for a long time when you have sex before you're even in the dreaming. when that happens, you better hold on, since you'll wake up more exhausted than before you slept
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gift giving could be into toys, but he has to be the one who made it and he has to be the one using it on you. but why would you need toys anyway when you can have his cock
might be offended if you think he needs to use a toy to get to orgasm, as it suggests that he’s not enough
and if you say you want a toy just for the times he’s busy, he’ll tell you that he’s never too busy to give you an orgasm and proves it to you in that point
you’ll have to tell him that you can’t take enough if you want him to stop
rather, he uses toys to overstimulate
vibrator on clit while his tongue searches deeper in your fold or vice versa
the gift he does like to give you is lingerie
he gives you an assortment of different colours in different materials
his favourite is whatever makes you feel the most confident
gives you lingerie that is meant to be ripped off you
when he rips a set of lingerie that you actually really liked, he’ll apologize with kisses and promises that he’ll make you more before fucking you senseless
buys you lingerie from la perla. when you wear it to sleep and you arrive in the dreaming in it, he preens in delight
sometimes, he’ll give you lingerie from the dreaming while you’re in the dreaming. that’s completely under his control, and he can make it disappear in an instant
speaking of giving you toys in the dreaming, if he makes it, that he can get behind cause he has absolute control over it. his finger becomes the remote
that little underwear he gives you? with no warning, starts to fucking vibrate during dinner with lucienne. doesn’t ease up until you get up, flushed and with wobbly knees, and run to the hallway where you cum with a poorly concealed moan
when you return to the table, he looks to you with a knowing smirk. thankfully, lucienne remains unaware (or at least has the courtesy of pretending to be)
in the waking world, you like to wear his clothes after you wake up. in return, he takes your underwear
when you fuck in the dreaming, you wake up drenched and with a wet spot on your blanket. he sends you a new blanket as an unfelt apology which he’ll ruin the next night anyway
back to his greatest gift to you being his cock
i see him longer than wider (but not long enough to hurt you. 27-inch dick fanfic writers, stay back). you know, keeping in theme with his whole lean yet lanky physique
might be long enough that you can’t deepthroat him completely, though he appreciates the attempt
but the one time you steel yourself and manage to take him in all whole
nearly cums in your mouth immediately
wouldn’t expect you to do that all the time, of course. but on the special occasion that you want to put the focus on him, that’s the way to go
the way to morpheus’ heart is not through his heart, but through swallowing
all in all, this Endless is guaranteed to find his pleasure in yours, so make sure to tell him that he's doing well, keep your moans loud and uncontrolled, and he'll fuck you out of this universe
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𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗂𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 — 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗋, 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖾.
𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅-𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍-𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 (𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌). 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀.
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╰┈➤ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!
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𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @aurorarevenclaw1927
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darklinsblog · 2 years
Text
Sexy times with Morpheus would include…
Author’s note: Yes, I mean sexual activity I didn’t want to be too explicit with the title but filth ahead, be aware 👹
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Morpheus is a highly sexual being but he does believe any sexual act to be a truly intimate moment, so if he wants to go at it, congrats! The Endless trusts you
Before you actually do the deeds, he wants to know exactly what you like and what you don’t, the more specific you are, the better. He wants to make sure your needs are being met
Once he’s had you for the first time, he just can’t stop thinking about you
So he comes up with any excuse he can think of to get you two alone
“Y/N? Would you mind helping me with some research?”
You were the object of research
He enjoys foreplay, because of the power you are able to give him over you, to feel your knees buckle at his touch.
Enjoys taking his time with you
His favorite thing is to undress you and take a minute to admire your naked figure
You know he’s horny when he kisses your neck
He is vocal asf on sex
Loves to kiss your whole body
He’s the love making kind of guy
Constantly makes sure you’re enjoying it as much as him
Careful not to hurt you
“ Are you okay, princess?”
But he DEFINITELY knows how to play rough
King of praising
“You’re exquisite”
He likes you to be loud, but he would much rather you moaning in his ear
Has a thing for doing it on his throne
Likes to pull your hair
Also likes you to pull his hair
If you’re a dominant, he will practically beg for you to ride him, he loves to see you have that sexual confidence.
If you are more submissive he isn’t afraid to take charge, he will treat you like one of his dreams, a creation made for his pleasure.
He uses your dreams to know and fulfill your deepest, darkest desires.
He isn’t a selfish lover, in fact, quite the opposite
Puts your pleasure before his, he makes you cum at least one time before he does
He is a master at eating you out like you’re a feast
He goes deep
Just being inside you is enough to make him lose his mind
Loves to mark you in places nobody but else him can see
Let’s you mark him as well
He may not actually say it, but he loves when you scratch his back
Speaking of not actually saying things… he also likes you to go down on him but he’s too polite and correct to actually vocalize it
When you do go down he’s careful not to get too excited and pull you down roughly
His guilty pleasure is hearing you gag on him
Dream likes when you try to keep quiet but you fail miserably
He will do anything in his power to have you say his name like a prayer for hours
Overstimulation
“Morpheus- I can’t anymore”
“Just one more, my love”
He gets turn on by the slightest shit, like the clothes you wear, the way you cross your legs together or if you just brush your fingers slightly over his crotch
Morpheus likes to kiss you while taking care of you so he can take every moan, gasp and breathe in his mouth
Likes to have you cum with his fingers alone
He doesn’t do much teasing but when he does…
“I’ve barely even touched you and look how drenched you are, my love”
Prefers positions in which he can see your face clearly
Possessive asf
He likes you to acknowledge yourself as his as he acknowledges he is yours
Likes to hold you close for a few seconds after you cum
Aftercare is the most important thing for him
Would read to you while caressing your hair as a form of aftercare
Complete sucker for you wearing his clothes afterwards
He leaves small gifts behind if you fall asleep and he’s not there
“You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to disturb you, I’ll be with Lucienne if you need me”
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hellfirelady · 2 years
Text
"my child is completely fine"
no honey, your child is thinking about a pale, starry-eyed man in a black coat who they wanna meet in their dreams in the really unhealthy amounts
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roguelov · 12 days
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Imagine sitting on Morpheus’ lap while he is sitting on his throne reading a book🤭
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It’s the best spot in all of the Dreaming 🫠
He will pull you close to his chest, slowly wrapping an arm around you as his lips brush past your ear. He will gently murmur the words in your ear which try to lull you to sleep. And when you fully relax into him he has this soft smile.
‘Sleep, my dear,’ he whispers
If you try to protest that you want to be awake and spend time with him, he will place a few kisses on your neck and side of your head.
‘We are spending time together, now rest I can feel how exhausted you are’
He will cradle you as you sleep soundly in his lap.
Now if you stay awake, you may crane your head to look at him just to admire and be in awe that he’s in your life. He will give you a sly smile already knowing what you are thinking about because he is thinking the same
‘Yes?’ He hums
‘Nothing,’ you rest your head on his shoulder. ‘Keep reading’
‘As you wish’ he says as kisses your temple
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paradiseinaverno · 2 years
Note
What about reader playing with Morpheus's hair? I just love his bed hairstyle! 💖
playing with morpheus’ hair (gn!reader)
thank you for the ask !
lowercase intended
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morpheus isn’t fond of people touching his hair. he might never admit it, but a surprising amount of effort goes into maintaining his bedroom-chic hair.
and though morpheus probably isn’t the biggest fan of intimacy with just anybody, you on the other hand, are a glimmering exception.
in fact, he’s so accustomed to your touch that he barely notices when your hand ever so slightly brushes a fleck of dust out of his hair.
you’re in the library, helping lucienne, sorting through books, considering the place went upside down after morpheus left. and it takes five minutes of inner frustration before you finally flick it out.
everything seems to stop. morpheus freezes for a moment, then silently just. walks away.
later, lucienne explains how particular he is about his hair, for some reason. you’re relatively new to knowing morpheus in comparison, so you just. accept it.
the next few weeks, you make a conscious effort not to touch his hair. if you hug him, you’ll put your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his eternal bed head.
on the other hand, morpheus is literally burning inside. fine, so his pride and joy is his mussed-up hair, but he can’t forget the feeling of how tenderly you touched him.
so the next time he sees you, and you’re lying in bed, he decides it can’t go on. in the purest way, morpheus wants to be touched. it’s been over a century of every type of deprivation in that damned burgess glass.
you’re lying down, and he nuzzles into you almost, like a cat. absentmindedly, and half asleep, you stroke his head ever so slightly. then your sense hits you, and you retract your hand as quickly as you can.
but he grabs your hand halfway, and you turn to look at his eyes that are oh-so-pleading, and your heart warms to its core.
he hesitates. “i like when you…when you do that.”
“you like when i touch your hair?”
almost childlike, almost uncharacteristically, he nods. it’s strange to see morpheus, so generally cold and firm, now so soft.
you’re almost grateful to see this side of him. he’s beautiful, always, and you take him into your arms. he rests his head across your stomach, and you run your fingers through his hair. he makes a mental note to ask you to do this more often
from then on, you rarely stop. in public, at first, you’re mindful not to touch him, or his hair much
after all, the king of dreams and nightmares has a reputation to uphold
but whenever he’s in your arms, whenever you play with his hair, he turns into putty. it doesn’t take long for lucienne to walk into the throne room one day to find the two of you in the same position
oh matthew would love to hear about this, she thinks
you almost convince him to let you braid it.
“it must be long enough!”
“absolutely not.”
you’re not sure if this king of dreams sleeps, but the few moments you have when he’s closing his eyes, you take advantage of by threading daisies between his dark locks.
morpheus, of course, is entirely awake. but he loves you, and he enjoys the personal attention. it’s not always he gets pampered, so he’ll keep his mouth shut. for now.
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daddyjackfrost · 2 years
Text
darling ; dream x f!reader
sandman masterlist
read my sandman series stay with me here
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The Dreaming, a realm of dreams and nightmares, was the home to many, including Dream of the Endless and his wife, Lady of The Dreaming.
In contrast to her husband, Lady of The Dreaming was a soft and gentle soul. The light to his dark. The dream to his nightmare. While Dream managed everything that occurred in the night, the nightmares and creatures, His Lady managed The Dreaming in the day, the more mundane of dreamers. Those who drifted in and out of their realm; the children, the elderly, and the night owls.
It was a good life. A happy, loving, joyful life. One that Morpheus and his Lady wouldn’t have traded for anything. They were content, and so in love.
Until the King of Dreams and Nightmares was captured. For over a century.
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80 years later…
Lucienne, the head librarian of The Dreaming, paced in front of the crumbling library doors. The library was one of the only places in The Dreaming that remained upright. As the rest of the realm withered away, Lucienne and the Lady tried their best to keep the Library—Morpheus’s favourite place—as intact as they could. All their belief and love was channeled towards the tower filled with books as old as time.
With a hesitant knock, the librarian waited for an invitation.
“Come in, Lucienne.”
Pushing the door open, Lucienne’s eyes landed on the slumped figure of her Ladyship. As she had been doing for years now, the Lady of the Dreaming stared out of the Library’s grand window. She watched her realm, the one she had loved and taken care of for thousands of years, deteriorate into rubble.
Lucienne threaded her fingers together. Not only had she watched her home turn into nothing, she watched her Queen, once lively and the heart of the Dreaming, turn into an empty shell of the God she once was.
“Can I make you some tea, my Ladyship? Perhaps a meal?”
The Lady turned her head and smiled at her old friend. Without Lucienne, the Dreaming would have crumbled completely long ago. She patted the empty space next to her. “Come sit, Lucienne. I could use the company of a friend.”
Lucienne smiled and sat next to her Lady. Together, they both travelled deep within their minds, recalling old memories of their home, when it was once beautiful and filled with imagination.
“I wonder what Morpheus thinks about, trapped in that glass. I have not seen him since Corinthian made Burgess place a shielding spell. Do you think he knows we have not abandoned him?”
Lucienne hesitated. Ever since Jessamy was killed, there had been no news about the King of Dreams. Shifting her eyes to the Lady, Lucienne took in her sullen eyes, her glazed skin, and the slight tremble of her hands.
“Lord Morpheus is smart. That being said, I’m sure he does not know that his absence has resulted in… this.” Lucienne wanted to console her Ladyship, but there was little to offer. “He thinks about you, I’m sure.”
The Lady of The Dreaming clapped her hands and stood, smoothing out her long black dress. “Yes, he must. Let’s make our rounds, Lucienne. Perhaps we shall find something unusual today.”
Together, a librarian and a God in love walked the planes of their home, hand in hand, welcoming the warmth and comfort they offered the other, knowing they had little time left.
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100 years later…
Dark, silver and blue eyes watched as Alex Burgess’s wheelchair wiped away the containment spell that had kept Dream, King of the Dreaming, captive for over a century.
Paul, Alex’s lover, turned back to look at the strange and powerful man. With the slightest nod, he pushed Alex’s wheelchair towards the door. This was the last time either man would come to the basement. They had hoped that this final offering would spare them.
Dream let out the softest of breaths, he could feel the freedom that awaited him. With the slightest stretch of his muscles, Dream stood. The hum around him grew louder, and settled deep within his heart.
With what remaining power he had, Dream broke free from his prison. Putting the guards to sleep, Dream rolled his shoulders. Before he reunited with his love, his wife, he had someone else he needed to take care of.
Alex Burgess had to pay for his crime. And the crimes of his father.
An unfortunate becoming, Dream thought. To pay for a father’s crime.
With a deep breath, Dream travelled to Alex Burgess’s dreams.
“Hello,” Dream spoke slowly. His voice carried through Alex’s mind, wrapping around his subconscious and drowning him.
Alex Burgess's eyes widened into a look Dream had come to familiarize with.
Fear.
“It’s you. You’re… you’re free.”
Dream stood, in all his dark glory. “I am. Do you have any idea what it was like? Confined in a cage for a century?” There was malice in his voice, running deeper than Dream’s thirst for vengeance. “Do you understand the damage you’ve done to your world?”
Alex shook his head, trying to back away from the very entity that had haunted his waking hours for years. “I’m sorry,” the man cried, “I didn’t know. Please.”
Dream stepped closer to the frightened man and leaned down. His eyes glowed and his anger simmered. “Your punishment, then, shall be a gift.” Dream had not missed the wince that came from Alex Burgess. After all, it was his father’s selfish need for a gift that had killed him.
“I give you this, the gift… of eternal… sleep.”
With a blow of sand, Alex Burgess was put to sleep for eternity.
Morpheus, now completely free of human control, thought of home. His realm. His love.
With no time wasted, Dream opened a gateway to The Dreaming. He was going home, back to his sweet lover.
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Dark grains of sand prickled Dream’s face. With power he seemed to lack, Morpheus had gracefully landed in his realm on his side, weak.
“Sir? Sir!”
A familiar, feminine voice called out to Dream, and for just a human second, he imagined it to be his lover. Footsteps ran closer, and Dream tried to open his eyes.
“Oh, my goodness. It’s me.” Lucienne crouched beside her Lord. “It’s Lucienne.”
With a soft gasp, Morpheus opened his eyes. A burst of something warm washed over him, seeing his librarian. His loyal, forever liable librarian.
“Lucienne,” Morpheus said weakly.
Lucienne's lips pulled into a smile, her eyes glazed. “You’re home, my Lord.” She put her hand out.
Reaching for her hand, Morpheus’s eyes twinkled. “I am.”
Pulling her Master up, Lucienne and Morpheus stared at each other. Unspoken words, apologies, and questions hovered in the air between them. But Lucienne just smiles, and Morpheus nodded once.
They both begin the trek back to the palace, and Lucienne watches as her Lord takes in the outskirts of The Dreaming. How dull and unkept it has become.
Once they reached the doors to The Dreaming, Lucienne cleared her throat. “Forgive me, sir, but the realm… the palace… they are not as you left them.”
Morpheus pushed open the large doors. His eyes scanned the view before him. A piece of his heart broke, seeing his creation, his realm, in this state.
With a deeper, emotional undertone, Morpheus asked, “What happened here? Who did this?”
Lucienne threaded her fingers together. Her eyes on the tower, where she knew her Lady was residing.
“My lord, you are The Dreaming, The Dreaming is you. With you gone for as long as you were, everything began to crumble and decay.”
“What of the residents? The palace staff?”
Lucienne did not miss his true intention. What of my Queen? Where is she?
“Gone, sir. Most are gone.”
Morpheus' eyes lit with a dull fire. “Had they so little faith in me? That I would return?”
Lucienne wishes she could have been honest with him. Tell him just how his absence had affected the realm, the residents. She wished she could have reminded him of the Endless that had abandoned their realm. But she held her tongue. Like the loyal servant she was.
“What of my Queen, Lucienne? Where is she?” Morpheus wished he sounded less fearful.
Lucienne hesitated, and then she sighed. “She is here, my Lord.” Stepping next to Dream, Lucienne pointed at the palace tower, the library. “She is there. Waiting for you.”
Without hesitation, Morpheus began walking towards the palace. Once he reunited with his love, held her in his arms, he could think about his realm and the damage he had yet to repair.
Lucienne followed her Lord quickly behind him. As they reached the palace, Lucienne opened her mouth. “Sir… If I may?”
The hesitation in Lucienne’s voice put Morpheus on edge. Turning his head slightly back, he raised his eyebrow at Lucienne. “Speak, Lucienne.”
“In your absence, The Dreaming began to fall apart. The only reason it is still standing, is because her Ladyship has commanded it to. She is powerful, sir, but not as strong as you. For a century she has used power she does not hold, and it has taken a toll on her.”
Lucienne watched as Morpheus' back became rigid, how he flexed his fingers just to clench them.
“Like The Dreaming, I’m afraid she’s dying, my Lord. She’s carrying the weight of The Dreaming, and it was not meant for her.”
Morpheus stopped in front of the Library doors. He stood stiller than Lucienne had ever seen him. Power and anger rolled off him, and Lucienne squeezed her hands together harder. With a tone she had yet to hear, Morpheus spoke.
“Thank you, Lucienne. Leave me to mend the heart and strength of my Queen.”
Lucienne nodded, bowing. “Of course, my Lord.”
Before Lucienne could walk away, in a smaller voice, Dream asked her the one question that had haunted him for a century.
“Does she hate me, Lucienne?”
With no hesitation, Lucienne answered. “No, sir. She loves you just as much as you love her. If not more.”
Morpheus waited until Lucienne’s became a faint whisper. With a newfound fear, he brought his pale, slightly trembling hand to the door and knocked, once.
“Come in, Lucienne.”
Morpheus’s eyes fluttered. With a deep breath, he pushed open the library doors. Morpheus’s eyes landed on his Queen, sitting on a simple seat that looked like a throne. Morpheus’s dark eyes travelled the length of his lover, taking in her weaker body and sullen eyes.
“Darling,” Morpheus whispered.
With speed that had long died, Lady of The Dreaming turned her head to face her husband. Her eyes met his, glazed and remorseful, and she stood.
With parted lips, the Lady whispered, “Morpheus?”
As magnets do, or souls bounded by fate, Morpheus and his lover pulled towards each other. Arms and bodies tangled together, and they both took their first breath. Scents of the other filled their bodies and their hearts beat as one.
Morpheus tightened his arms around his lover, and let out a sigh at the feeling of her hands in his hair. Their bodies fused together as one, unknown to them where one started and the other ended.
His Queen pulled away, just enough to rest her forehead against his. “Am I dreaming, Morpheus? Please say no, I cannot handle it. Are you really here?”
Morpheus’s voice, thick with emotion, came from deep within his body. “I am here, my love. I am here.” At the sound of a quiet, broken sob, Morpheus pressed a kiss to his Queen’s forehead. “Oh, my darling. My love. My Queen. I am here.”
Fragile hands tightened their grip on his robes. Morpheus lifted his hand from his lover’s waist and placed it on her cheek. “You’ll never be alone again, I promise.”
Lady of The Dreaming nodded, believing her King. She could feel his trembling fingers. “It was horrible without you, my love. I…” She lifted her eyes to meet Morpheus’s. His eyes were screaming at her. Tell me everything. Be honest with me. I’m sorry. I love you.
“I am tired.”
Morpheus shut his eyes. When he spoke, his breath tickled her cheeks. “I know, darling. I’m sorry.”
Then, Lady of The Dreaming asked her husband for the thing she had wanted–needed– for over a century.
“Kiss me, Morpheus. Please.”
Knowing he owed her much more, Morpheus brought his lips to hers. Her lips were soft, almost silken, and untouched against his. Morpheus could feel the soft tickle of her breath beneath his nose, fingers carding through his hair and he breathed her in.
Pulling each other closer, the King and Queen of The Dreaming used their bodies to convey all their words, the apologies and confessions that had gone long unsaid.
Their reunion pleased The Dreaming, and as the King and Queen mended their relationship, The Dreaming began to mend itself.
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swanimagines · 1 month
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SLEEP THIEF | MORPHEUS
Summary: You, being plagued by a sleep thief called insomnia, managed to free Dream a few months back. Now he wants to pay you back by finding a cure for your insomnia - and maybe because he has developed feelings for you.
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Once, in the realm of dreams, where reality bends and imagination takes shape, Dream of the Endless found himself trying to help a mortal, who suffered from a condition that prevented her to visit his kingdom.
Insomnia. That relentless thief of sleep that plagued your every night. Despite always being tired, having eyebags and looking old beyond your years, you were always kind to Dream. Somehow you had sensed he was a vital part in the world, and in little, tiny gestures over two years, you helped him with every way you could. “Accidentally” swiping your feet over the summoning ring. Guards hadn’t slept well, so they fell to sleep after drinking your special tea. Little things - and eventually, your constant, diligent effort was worth it and Dream got himself out. You didn’t know what had been the thing that made the trick, but his glass prison was shattered and the guards didn’t remember much - it was concluded the summoning ring had weakened over time and Dream could finally push through it.
You got fired from the mansion with the rest of the workers after Mr. Burgess was cursed with eternal nightmares and your services weren’t needed anymore - and within the first week of you tossing and turning in the bedroom of your new apartment, you got a visitor - startled by a man with glowing eyes standing in the corner of the room, almost letting out a scream before you recognised him and turned on your bedside lamp with a smile.
“Dream? Is it… really you? I thought you were gone, that I would never see you again,” you mumbled, beaming as you sat up properly. “I… I knew you got out, but I thought you’d be busy to get the world rolling again.”
Dream smiled softly, taking a step towards you. Then he spoke, with a deep voice - to be honest, you hadn’t expected him to sound like that. “Yes, it is I. I have returned to express my gratitude for the compassion and help you offered me when I needed it the most. The world is on its track again, and you are to thank for that.”
You smiled back bashfully, looking at your hands fiddling with your blanket. “It was a human thing to do. I knew your captivity was a reason why the world was messed up. I’m happy you popped by, it’s good to see you’re alright.”
Dream was quiet for a moment, studying you. Then he spoke again. “I wish to grant you the gift of sleep. You have suffered from the lack of it for so long, and a mortal like you does not deserve such a fate. It is not caused by my absence, but I want to help you with it.”
You frowned, looking up to him. “I’ve always had it. Sleeping pills help somewhat, but even they might not let me sleep throughout the whole night. Are you sure that- I mean, I know you can do it, you’re the king of dreams, after all. But are you sure your help will last? I read it may originate from the way brains are built, and I don’t know if you’re able to change it. You can’t have time to guard my sleep every night, can you?”
Dream was quiet for a moment. “I will do everything I can in my power to ensure you will be able to sleep your nights without struggle. For tonight, my sand will have to do.”
And with that, he took out his pouch and you, knowing what he was about to do, settled under your covers. You looked at Dream as he placed the sand on the palm of his hand and the last thing you saw was him blowing the powder-like sand on your face, and you fell asleep on that very moment.
“Are you sure about this, Dream?” Matthew asked as he flew by his master, settling onto one of the many chairs in the library. “Humans and Endless rarely mix well. You know it could be dangerous. The potential consquences could be destructive.”
Dream didn’t even look up to his companion as he read one of the many books he owned. “She showed me kindness during my captivity. It is time for me to repay that debt.”
Matthew was quiet and used the time to ponder his next words to groom himself. Then he tilted his head, studying his friend. “Are you planning to act on your feelings?”
Dream paused for a moment, tapping his fingers on the cover of the book. Then he finally looked up to his friend. “I understand your concerns, Matthew. But should we deny ourselves happiness only because the risk of heartbreak it may involve?”
Matthew sighed. “I suppose not.”
Lucienne emerged from behind the corner. “Your devotion for her is undeniable. And your wish to help her through her condition is noble - but remember the consequences what could happen if she starts to dwell in dreams and forget to live. You may get blindsided about what will lie ahead if you let your feelings overwhelm your senses.”
“I am aware, Lucienne,” Dream said, lowering his eyes back down and tracing his finger across the page of the book. “I do not know if she feels the same way. It may be she does not return my feelings for her.”
Matthew and Lucienne exchanged a glance, before the librarian handed a book to Dream. “I believe this book will help with her condition. Just… be careful, my lord.”
Dream’s eyes flickered up again, and he nodded slightly. “Thank you, Lucienne.”
And so, Matthew and Lucienne left Dream alone - he would find a cure for you, let you visit his Kingdom. And even if it would never be anything more than friendship, Dream would enjoy having you around in his Kingdom every night, walking with you through the field and listen to you telling about your day. 
It had been a while since he had had a mortal human friend - Hob being immortal - but he had a feeling that you could be one of his greatest friends who have ever lived.
---
Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)
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7-wonders · 3 months
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whenever the fates called morpheus love or dear it just gives me this image of morpheus coming to meet reader at their volunteer job at an old peoples home and all the elderly ladies giggling and calling him such a handsome man and why if they were a few decades younger they'd have him for themselves you're standing in the background not knowing how to reply to any of that
(This was like pulling teeth. When will my ability to write return from war?)
There are many little quirks when it comes to being in a relationship with a primordial, all-powerful being such as Dream of the Endless. One such instance is that time does not run the same for an Endless as it does for a human. Morpheus can lose minutes, hours, days to his duties between one blink and the next.
The Dreaming, that fantastical kingdom that your lover rules over, runs on the same logic. You can spend what feels like an hour in the Dreaming, only for it to be an entire day later in the Waking. Likewise, weeks in the Dreaming can be merely an hour in the Waking. It's disconcerting to creatures that have lived far longer than you.
All of this is to say that your meetings often don't have a specific date or time when they're in the Waking, simply because Morpheus doesn't know. He tries, though it's difficult: clocks do not work in the Dreaming, and Matthew is too important a raven to be constantly flying to the Waking to check the time so that Morpheus can "run off" (Matthew's words) with you. You've actually started to look forward to the spontaneity—it helps that he usually gets lucky and catches you when you're home or alone and don't have to worry about explaining how he just randomly appeared out of thin air.
Though it's rare, him coming to the Waking to see you and you being in public has happened before. This time, he shows up when you're just finishing up at the retirement home you volunteer at a couple times a month—you're in charge of what's supposed to be a crossword puzzles group, but what is mainly just a gossip group.
Most mortals aren't able to see Morpheus when he doesn't want to be seen. You're not most mortals, however, and you've gotten pretty damn good at sensing when he's around, which is why you're the only one that notices him lurking in the corner closest to the door.
"Hi," you mouth, trying and failing to hide your grin as you give him a discreet wave.
Your excitement must be palpable, because the women quickly pick up on it and thus catch sight of a tall, dark, and handsome stranger across the room. Ethel, the boldest of the group by far, grabs your arm and yanks you down to her level. "Is that the boyfriend?"
"Yes, that's the boyfriend."
They all know about the boyfriend because you've gushed about your beloved to this little group more than a few times. How can you not, though? Especially when you're surrounded by those who enjoy living vicariously through you and thus cajole you into sharing such stories about your love life.
"She thought he was fake, y'know," Ida informs you.
"Did not!" Ethel retorts. "I was just curious because you never showed us any pictures!"
"I've told you before that Morpheus is a little camera-shy." You don't actually know if that's the case or not; you just haven't yet figured out how to ask the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares if he wants to take a cute couple's selfie.
"Morpheus! Oh, how exotic." The little group titters, thrilled at having learned his name.
The man (-shaped being) of the hour has moved, placing a hand on your lower back so as to not frighten you when he suddenly stands next to you. You smile up at him and are greeted with the smallest of smiles in return while the sounds of your seniors oohing and aahing fade into mere background noise. Surroundings tend to become meaningless when you see Morpheus; all that matters then is you and he.
Morpheus is the one to remind you that you have an audience when he turns his attention upon said audience. He bows his head politely and says, "I greet you, ladies."
As you expected, they go absolutely nuts when they hear his voice.
"Oh my!" Ida blushes.
Ethel beams. "Aren't you a handsome one!"
"Why, if I were a few decades younger..." Shirley, who has absolutely no filter whatsoever, winks at Morpheus.
You sputter, your eyes wide and blood rushing to your cheeks. "Shirley!"
"What? I have eyes!"
While you're ready to hide your face in your hands and die (maybe you should see if Death has a cell phone), Morpheus simply hums in amusement. "You are very kind."
"And you are a sweetheart."
"Okay, that does it for me today," you interrupt. It's not a lie; you were literally saying your goodbyes and on your way out before Morpheus arrived! "I'll see you guys in a couple of weeks."
"You bring Morpheus around any time, alright?"
You can't get out of there fast enough, and Morpheus lets you practically drag him towards the parking lot. Once you're out in the fresh air (and away from any of the windows that your favorite gals could be spying from), you bury your head in Morpheus's shoulder and groan.
"I'm sorry. That was so embarrassing," you lament.
"Why? They were...sweet, if not a little overt in their affections."
You lift your head up to meet his eyes. "That's why it was embarrassing, my love."
"You are very clearly dear to them. They simply want to see you happy."
"I'm assuming you know that with your super special dream magic?"
"Daydreams and hopes are quite loud, starlight." He smirks because you know damn well just how loud some daydreams can be (specifically yours when you're thinking about Morpheus) before pressing his lips to your forehead.
"Well, you're certainly in their good graces now. They've been so nosy since they found out I'm seeing someone."
"So I lived up to their expectations, then?"
Now it's your turn to smirk. "Baby, you were beyond their wildest dreams."
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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 month
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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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​GIF: Originally posted by @tavners
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. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.
Word Count: 2.6k
A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx
Sandman Masterlist
---------------------------------------------
Fate.
A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.
Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.
The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.
For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.
For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.
Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.
But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.
It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.
Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.
Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.
What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?
It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.
Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.
Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.
The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.
The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.
With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.
The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.
"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"
He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.
There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.
The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.
He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.
Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.
This foray into the water may be fruitless.
You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.
His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.
Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.
He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.
"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.
The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.
At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.
Then there is a pull.
It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.
You are alive, and you are dreaming.
A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.
Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.
As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.
He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.
A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.
You stand by said window, head turned from him.
Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.
You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.
The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.
What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?
There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.
Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.
The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.
It clicks into place.
What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.
Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.
You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.
You see him.
The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.
Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.
You disappear.
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Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.
Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.
Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.
Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.
All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.
He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.
It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.
Would his triumph drive them to distraction?
It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.
He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.
Tears pool in his eyes.
His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.
"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.
He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.
He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.
It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.
Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.
Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.
Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.
The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.
You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.
Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.
He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.
The Fates were making it transparent.
You were the one.
Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.
He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.
Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.
Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.
Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -
Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.
Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."
He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.
When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.
It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.
It has done the opposite.
His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.
He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.
He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.
He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.
For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.
An erotic idea enters his mind.
Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.
Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.
To give you a taste of what was to come.
A gift that only he could bestow.
The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.
"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."
He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.
-------------------------------------
It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.
The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.
The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.
It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.
Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.
He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.
He doesn't even try to fight it.
The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.
It is surprisingly liberating.
He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.
All he has to do is wait.
The door to the building is pushed open.
-------------------------------------
Taglist: @herfantasyworldd
"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."
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dyns33 · 9 months
Text
Feeling rainy
Another Dream x female reader 
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      “Honey, you look cloudy today. No, rainy."
     "I confirm, he is very rainy at the moment."
     "Matthew. Leave us."
     "Right away, boss. But I'm sick of being wet all the time when I fly in the Dreaming, thank you very much."
It had taken a little time, but during their relationship, Y/N had acquired several certainties about Morpheus, especially about his mood.
The master of nightmares was not very good at expressing his feelings. Mainly because he didn't always know them himself. Partly because he was stupid and not very good with people.
His emotions were like a storm inside him. And therefore, a storm inside the Dreaming, especially when he was nervous, angry or sad.
Happy or neutral sentiments were preferable, with the sky remaining blue, the sun lighting up the whole realm, and the wind seeming to sing melodies.
 Sometimes it was a little too hot, when he was in love and excited, but that was no big deal. Also, it never lasted very long.
Like the weather, Morpheus' mood was changing very quickly, and very easily.
And even though he was doing his best to hide his feelings behind a straight face, the Dreaming never left any doubt that something was bothering him.
     "Is it because of last night ?" Y/N asked calmly.
     "I don't wish to talk about it, love."
     "Not even to please me ? I don't like it when you rain, especially because of me."
     "... It's not because of you. I probably overreacted."
     "Kind of like always, darling, but that doesn't mean your feelings aren't valid. Do you want a hug ?"
     "... Maybe."
The tall, terrible prince of the stories certainly didn't like being seeing as weak, but when Dream was in Y/N's arms, he looked like a cat desperately trying not to purr with pleasure, totally at her mercy.
It wasn't a problem since they were alone, but dreams and nightmares guessed what was going on, as the clouds disappeared and a rainbow formed over their heads.
     "She has to cuddle him all the time."
     "Hush."
     "Merv is right. I may be his more or less emotional raven, but he clearly needs her as an emotional human."
     "Get out of my library."
All of this could have gone quite well, since Y/N had managed to decode the functioning of the Dreaming, and therefore of Dream, but sometimes he was visibly lost and upset by her emotions, not knowing how to help her, and beginning to feel them with her.
Which was not a good thing, for him, nor for his kingdom.
Y/N therefore asked for advice around her, knowing that it was useless to ask Morpheus directly. Morpheus never really answered questions. That being said, his subjects weren't necessarily better for it.
Lucienne, loyal intelligent Lucienne advised her to speak to the Lord, as communication was important, although she had to be careful how she wanted to express what she wanted to say, as the Lord could misunderstand things.
Merv and Matthew thought that they should say nothing and just cover him with kisses and compliments so that he would always be happy. Because everyone wanted him to be happy, and everyone loved rainbows.
The Corinthian had a different opinion.
     "You have to do exactly like him." he declared with three huge smiles.
     "What do you mean, like him ?"
     "You want to help him by doing anything so that he doesn't get overwhelmed by emotions ? So don't show any emotion yourself. Keep them inside, act neutral, use a monotonous voice, express your love with ridiculously complicated little sentences, and it will be perfect."
Normally, it would have been strongly discouraged to listen to a nightmare. But despite their bickering, the Corinthian was arguably one of the creations that knew Morpheus best, so Y/N thought it wasn't a bad idea.
After all, Dream was a bit like a sponge. Absorbing all the dreamers' hopes, fears, desires, emotions, and though he was a separate being who felt distinctly, he couldn't completely cut himself off from the rest of the world.
So it seemed logical that he was sometimes troubled by others, and therefore by Y/N, with whom he spent the most time.
It didn't cost much to imitate him. It wasn't necessarily easy, but she could do it, for him, so it wouldn't be rainy or stormy too often.
So she trained in front of a mirror, doing her best to remain impassive as she thought about a joke, her deceased grandfather, an adorable kitten, her boss whom she wanted to strangle, and lots of things that never left her indifferent.
Part of her had thought Morpheus wouldn't notice. Another hoped he would see it, that he would be happy, and that she could smile to herself.
While they were watching her favorite movie together, a funny scene played out and she didn't react. Then another, and another, until Y/N felt that Dream's attention was no longer on the screen, but on her.
     "My love, you seem distant."
     "Not at all. I'm enjoying a pleasant evening, with you." she said with a neutral tone.
     "... You didn't laugh. Would you like to see another movie ?"
     "No, I like this movie. You weren't laughing either, do you want to change ?"
     "I never laugh."
    "Because you're too melancholic to find aything funny ?"
     "... No. My laughter... I was informed that my laughter could be frightening."
Y/N then turned to him, and at that moment, she almost smiled, finding the revelation ridiculous and adorable,  wanting to hear that laughter that her lover was so ashamed of, out of curiosity, but above all to reassure him.
Except that for that, she would have to show emotions, and make him feel emotions, and the goal was to remain as neutral as possible, so Y/N forced herself to remain neutral, looking at him straight in the eyes so that he knew that she was serious, while looking for the right wording.
"I'm sure your laugh is sweet." was the best thing that came to her, patting Morpheus' hand, before watching the movie again.
There were many other moments like this, at the New Inn, at the park, in the Dreaming, and Y/N really thought that everything was fine, that she was doing a good job. The weather seemed calm, with a few distant clouds, but no storms in sight.
Still, there was something in Morpheus' eyes when he looked at her. Curiosity mixed with fear. She didn't dare tell him about it, thinking it was nothing, and he didn't tell her either.
Until Matthew came to visit her as she was getting ready to go to sleep.
     "I don't know if I should ask you to go to bed quickly, or advise you to stay awake."
     "Why ? What's going on ? Morpheus is in trouble ?!"
     "Uh... That depends. Is everything okay between you two ?"
     "Yes, perfectly fine. Why ?" she asked, suddenly worried.
     "I don't know. It's foggy at the moment. We've had a few rains, a few tornadoes, but Lucienne managed to calm it down. Except that... Hmm... I don't know if I should say it."
     "Matthew."
     "He thinks you don't love him anymore." sighed the raven, lowering his head.
The news hit Y/N straight to the heart. For a moment, she wondered how Dream could have come to such a conclusion. Then she remembered how Dream was, his difficulties in understanding people, emotions, and even if he himself didn't often show what he felt, he clearly needed others to show him.
For a month, Y/N thought to make him happy. For a month, Morpheus thought she wanted to leave him.
     "... This is a terrible misunderstanding."
     "Glad to hear that. Can you tell him, please ?"
Falling asleep when stressed might take a while, but Y/N needed to see Morpheus quickly, so she closed her eyes thinking hard about him, and she arrived on the balcony of his palace.
It was raining.
Obviously, Matthew had come to see her before Lucienne went to speak to her master.
Dream stood in the rain, motionless, watching his realm. He didn't move when she came close to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
     "I love you, you know that ?" she asked shyly.
     "I hope so."
     "In wanting to please you, I made a mistake. Your mood changes so easily, you can be so fragile, so sensitive."
     "I'm not fragile." he muttered, continuing to stare into the distance.
     "You are, but that's neither an insult nor the question. I thought... The Corinthian told me that if I don't show my emotions, I won't upset you with them and that you I would be happy. I wanted to help, really. Since you know that I love you, I imagined that it wouldn't change anything. It would be inside, like for you. Sorry."
Finally, Dream turned to her, looking surprised and solemn. He stared at her for a long time, before taking a deep breath.
     "I see. So you made several mistakes, indeed."
     "Dream..."
     "You listened to the Corinthian, a nightmare."
     "I know."
     "You thought it would be good for you to keep your emotions inside, like me. Knowing that my emotions are never really inside, but entirely outside, in the Dreaming, while you should keep your storms in your little heart."
     "I get it, I..."
     "And you believed that I would like you to deprive me of your smile. Of your laughter. That you hide your sadness from me, which I could erase with kisses. Your anger, which I could appease with poems. Your love, which I carry in my chest. All this to make me happy ?"
So Morpheus did something that Y/N hadn't imagined.
He laughed. 
And like he said, his laugh was a little scary. Inhuman. A sound that mortals weren't supposed to hear, that no one was supposed to hear. But he was laughing, and he was smiling, and he came over to kiss her, and Y/N thought she liked that sound a lot.
     "My love, your emotions, all your emotions, are my joy. Do not hide them from me."
     "Okay. But promise me you'll tell me when it's rainy, and why."
     "Very well."
     "And I was right, your laugh is very sweet."
     "Yeah, I guess love makes you blind and deaf."
     "Matthew. Leave us."
     "Yes, boss. Glad it's not raining anymore."
Indeed, the sun had returned as he spoke, a bright sun, and even if the weather could never be perfect, like their relationship, Y/N would do everything to make Morpheus as bright as possible.
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