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withoutyouimsaskia · 7 months

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Don't Stop (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

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

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

Word Count: 1.7k

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

Sandman Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not at present."

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

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

Morpheus calls to his friend.

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

"I suggest you do the same, sir."

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

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

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

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

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

Desire.

They are present, filling you with neediness and longing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You register this in his stance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"May I have the honour of tasting you?"

"Yes," you consent, breathless already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Morpheus?! What are you -"

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

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

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

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

You nod.

"Verbal consent, please."

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

You gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Tag List: @herfantasyworldd @shadowqueen1318

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sandmanfemslashfans · 9 months

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[ ID. A graphic in a blue gradient showing Gault, Death, Lucienne, and Johanna from the Sandman Netflix. White text at the bottom reads Sandman Femslash Weekend. End ID. ] (Credit to @seiya-starsniper for the lovely graphic 💖)

Hello, Sandman fans!!! There are so many lovely characters to play with in the fandom, but the mods at @sandmanfemslashfans are particularly fond of the lovely ladies of The Sandman show and comics. In order to celebrate some of our faves, we've decided to put together a small event to celebrate the fantastic femslash pairings in the fandom!

Prompts:

Friday, October 13th

• Bad Luck

• Meet-Ugly

• Inspired by a favorite song

Saturday, October 14th

• Meet-Cute

• Favorite _______ (favorite place, favorite food, favorite article of clothing, etc.)

• Inspired by a book or movie

Sunday, October 15th

• Accident

• Night out

• Inspired by a photo from your camera roll

Rules:

1) NSFW content is allowed! Bring on the smut! All we ask is that you please tag accordingly/use community labels so people who don’t want to see such content can avoid it easily. 2) No gender-swapped versions of male/male ships, so no Dreamling, no Corintheus, etc.

Our askbox is open if you want to shoot us any questions! Looking forward to appreciating some femslash with all of you :D

#sandmanfemslashweekend #the sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman comics #foxglove the sandman #donna cavanagh #hazel mcnamara #lucienne the sandman #lucienne the librarian #gault the sandman #death of the endless #johanna constantine #calliope the sandman

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littledollll · 1 year

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Into The Dreaming

Morpheus:

• Agere fics

Mr. Sandman

Little artist (1/2)

• Sfw fics

Sweetest of dreams

Favorite place

Despair’s cold embrace

Missed opportunity

• Nsfw fics

Dangerous temptation

Lucienne:

• Sfw fics

A day off

• Nsfw fics

Desirable

Other masterlists

• Lucifer Morningstar

• Larissa Weems

• Brienne of Tarth

• Extras

#it’s littledollll #the sandman morpheus #the sandman #dream of the endless #lucienne x reader smut #morpheus smut #lucienne x dream #lucienne the sandman #lucienne the librarian #cg! morpheus #cg! dream of the endless #lucienne sandman #lucienne sandman smut #lucienne x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus sandman

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lucienne-thee-librarian · 8 months

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Sandman fic recs for Underrated Characters and Ships: Lucienne Edition (part 1)

This is a non-exhuastive list of my personal favorite Lucienne-centric and Morphienne fics and series I've found so far. If you can think of any others I've forgotten don't hesitate to add on!

Okay first off: my friend @pratchettfan87 has written a lovely fic I'm helping beta where Lucienne and her comic counterpart meet and bond and you need to go read it rn You Are The Light That Guides the Way. It's also a great exploration of the events of Sandman from the perspective of both librarians. It's not complete but it's rapidly getting put together so pls go give her encouragement and feedback so you can keep seeing more if you want! I'm gonna try to roughly go in order from most to least nsfw as we go down. Part 2 will contain other ships like Gault x Lucienne and Calliope x Lucienne.

Gen fics

And the Darkness Hummed by @navigatorwrongway - one of my all time absolute favorite Lucienne fics in this fandom, period that delves into her backstory before she even met Dream and takes you on a Journey through her life and it's. Mwah. It's art

nosso amor (our love) by marveling_under_an_open_sky is an achingly tender exploration of Lucienne's trauma and her getting comforted for once.

For Morphienne

Literally everything @cosmictapestry (aka cosmicjourney on AO3) has ever written is an instant recommend from me. Seriously. I can't think of one single thing she's written I didn't like. Heed the tags, but if you're old enough to be interacting with the NSFW stuff and it's your thing, do yourself a favor and dive into their delicious Morphienne smut drabbles on tumblr and the longer stuff on AO3. Go do it right now. It can be emotional and painful but all very well written. And his We Divinity series is heartbreaking and beautiful and with all the characters spot-on and the writing poetry like you've never seen.

and take thee up thy nurse's fee by stellerssong, a selkie!Dream au with wonderful atmosphere

It's About Old Friends by JerseyDragons is sweet and funny and a spot on take on a queerplatonic/sort of romantic version of their dynamic.

Wingmanning for Fun and Profit by unseenbox - is an absolutely adorable look at a Morphienne love confession from Matthew's POV.

Jewel by @softest-punk is super lovely and sweet, pure quality fluff.

Stellerssong's red moon series is a really interesting werewolf au of not just Morphienne but also Corintheus. It's on a slow burn but it's definitely worth it imo.

Also stellerssong's OTHER series "through endless revisions" is just a fantastic take on Daniel!Dream adjusting to his new life and everyone who knew and loved him having to do the same, but the specifically Morphienne standouts are as follows: please come back and be (just a little bit), eutropic, a pillar I am upright , room for one more taste , and for just to suffer that hurt. All of these are well worth the read, most but room for one more taste have angst and smut involved as well as sharp writing and characterization. Seriously can't recommend these enough, these are some of the best of the lot and that's saying something.

Dreams Written in Sand by cunticuss very slow burn but lovely and feels very them.

Woolgathering by sunsorbit is ANOTHER slow burn series full of wonderful characterization and pining and includes the library as an observer and character in itself which I'm always a sucker for.

How Vibrant the Color by unnecessary - unfffff. This is peak poetic emotional therapy dream sex. One of my favorites.

Gold by MDWG aka the most tender sex imaginable.

Contrapposto by stuntmuppet - pure smut. My only complaint is how short it is.

#the sandman #lucienne #morphienne #sandman fic recs #lucienne appreciation squad

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endlessbigbang · 9 months

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Masterlist

And that's a wrap! We're so happy to conclude the first big bang for the Sandman fandom with 23 amazing collaborations. Endless, endless thanks to everyone who lent their support, to our writers and artists and podficcers, to the alphas, betas, and cheerleaders and, last but not least, the readers. We're so overjoyed with the success of this event, and can't wait to be back next year!

You can find all creations beneath the cut, please leave all our creators some love!

Love,

the mods (@kairenn-n, @magicinavalon, and @queerofthedagger)

Title: Feathers take Flight (find a home in my heart) Writer: @the-narwhals-awaken Artist: @amielot Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No archive warnings apply Word Count: 16,233 Pairing/main characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus / Hob Gadling, Destiny of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Death of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Destruction of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Desire of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Despair of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Delirium of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Hob's Coworkers (just characters). Up to 10 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe- Wings, all relationships other than dreamling are somewhat minor

Summary:

In a world where there are those that have wings sprouting from their backs, many things remain the same- after all, human nature is human nature, and wings can only change so much. However, when a belated meeting turns into a chance to get closer, to offer and recieve trust and care after a century locked in Fawney Rig, a new path can be set upon- and new futures open up.

Fic link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48303274 Art link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48587698

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Title: blue windows behind the stars Writer: celestarium (@meadowziplines) Artist: Blargh (@brokebrainmountain) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator chose not to use archive warnings / Suicide, suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts Word Count: 21,532 Pairing/main characters: Gen; Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Lucien | Lucienne (The Sandman), Death of the Endless, Hob Gadling, Destruction of the Endless, Matthew the Raven, Desire of the Endless, Despair of the Endless, Delirium of the Endless, Background & Cameo Characters Up to 10 Additional Tags: Trauma, Panic Attacks, Flashbacks, Depression, Nightmares, Exhaustion, Catharsis, Farms, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Hopeful Ending

Summary:

Dream contemplates what death would mean for an Endless after the resolution of the Vortex, dragged down by untold millennia of exhaustion, suicidal ideation, and self-loathing. Struggling with his own past and mistakes, but with the conviction that he should give the world a new Dream of the Endless, he attempts suicide. Lucienne, Death, and Matthew catch up in time to save him, and to aid him in the weeks following, Destruction of the Endless offers to let Dream (and his friend Hob Gadling) stay with him on his farm in Aotearoa (New Zealand). A vulnerable and emotional Morpheus agrees. While there, Dream struggles to reconcile his emotional state and sense of self with his duty as an Endless, and most of all, find hope again. His friends, family, and allies do their best to help him find answers, aid in nourishing hope, and plan for the future.

Fic & Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48335944/chapters/121909153

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Title: Room For Love Writer: @staroftheendless Artist: @pintobordeaux Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~ 65,500 Warnings: None Pairing/main characters: Dream x Hob Additional Tags: roommate AU, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, sexual tension, fluff and smut, artist Hob

Summary:

Sometimes in life, we make little decisions that lead to things so much bigger, we can hardly wrap our heads around it. After never quite getting along with people, Dream is surprised to become best friends with his new roommate Hob. He might even have a bit of a crush on him. The only problem? Hob could never like him the same way. Hob makes friends easily, especially with Dream, who's the best friend anyone could hope for. The only problem? After five years of living together, Dream shows up in places of Hob's mind where a friend doesn't quite belong. Now the only question left is, who's going to make the little decision that leads to bigger things?

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48699178/chapters/122844601 Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48715300/chapters/122886778

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Title: By The Dead of Morning Writer: Essie (@essie007) Artist: @teejaystumbles Rating: Explicit Warnings: Suicidal Ideation, Minor Character Death, Temporary Character Death, mentions of revenge porn, mentions of stillbirth Word Count: 39,775 Pairing: Dreamling Additional Tags (up to 10): reverse verse, canon divergent AU, Hob Gadling is Hope of the Endless, Human Morpheus, angst with a happy ending, Endless Family Drama

Summary:

When Despair is killed by the Kindly Ones for spilling family blood, she departs to the sunless lands, never to return. Thus, Hob Gadling, a lowly mercenary living in London in 1389, becomes Hope of the Endless. Over six hundred years later, Death takes him out for a drink, Desire in tow, to the Tavern of the White Horse, where he meets Morpheus, a down on his luck mortal crying into his sangria after a recent break-up. Desire believes that Morpheus’s death wish is genuine and that he will be dead within a year, but Hope is certain the man has too much to live for. Death offers a solution, she will not take Morpheus until he asks for her gift, but as soon as he does, she will grant it. Hob approaches Morpheus with every intention of winning a bet, but Hob is the youngest Endless by far and doesn’t know the family’s full complicated history. Or their connection to Morpheus. A reverse-verse canon divergent AU.

Fic & Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48475690/chapters/122275639 ---

Title: The Moonstone Writer: gisho Artist: @vriah Rating: Not Rated Warnings: no warnings Word Count: 21,254 Pairing/main characters: Rose Walker, Dream of the Endless, Jed Walker, Gault Up to 10 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Knightly Quests, fairytale logic

Summary:

Morpheus finds a way to avoid killing a vortex - he gives Rose his own heart, forcing her to take his place as Dream. The new Dream has to deal with a life she never expected and try not to repeat her predessor's mistakes. In the waking world, the people she left behind grieve and wonder. And when Roses's little brother Jed is offered the chance to switch from superhero to questing knight, with some help from an old friend, he leaps at the opportunity.

Fic & Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48314338

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Title: little by little, and also in great leaps Writer: she_who_loves_dreamling (all_fandoms_reader) (@i-love-all-books) Artist: @d8dc Rating: Teen+ Warnings: Graphic violence Word Count: 21,082 Pairing/main characters: Dreamling Up to 10 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, The Love Is Requited They're Just Idiots, idiots to lovers, Getting Together, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary:

In one world, Jessamy and Death depart for the Sunless lands, and it will be long years before Dream is free. This is not that world. ~ Hob is eating breakfast on Tuesday, August 10th, in the year of our Lord 1926, when Death comes knocking. Or, the obligatory fishbowl rescue fic, followed by a series of dates in the Dreaming which Dream doesn't realise are dates and Hob doesn't realise are real. AKA mutual pining with a happy ending.

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48535429 Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49062727

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Title: It's Only Forever, Not Long At All Writer: @beholdingthegaytimes Artist: @mayhemspreadingguy Rating: Explicit Warnings: None Word Count: 25k Pairing/main characters: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Up to 10 Additional Tags: Masquerade Ball AU, Vampire Au, Alternate First Meeting, Violinist Hob Gadling, Vampire Dream of the Endless, Blood drinking, First time, Lust at first sight, Strangers to Hook Up to Lovers

Summary:

Hob should know by now not to go along with Death’s schemes, but here he is at a masquerade ball for her baby brother. He’s never met him, but Death's told Hob that he was indeed that pale lord that left the White Horse in a stink just before Death sauntered up and gave Hob immortality. Surrounded by impossible creatures and otherworldly beings, one specific person catches his attention: an inhumanly beautiful dark haired man in a raven mask. Hob loses track of him and the night spirals out in mayhem as Hob gets himself into trouble. Fey trouble to be exact. Or An alternate first meeting with romance, dramatic disputes, vampiric flare, and classical music.

Fic & Art: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/endless_big_bang_2023/works/48594271

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Title: The Seven Lamps of Architecture Writer: Quilling (@Quillingwords) Artist: @the-cloudy-dreamer Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 29,640 Pairing/main characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Up to 10 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Magical Realism; Gothic Atmosphere; The Dreaming is both a setting and basically its own character here; Literary and artistic references and allusions; Meta on storytelling and narratives; Dream goes by all of his names here; POV Hob Gadling; In which he gets to peel back each of the layers like an onion (or a tulip bulb - this will make more sense later)

Summary:

Moonlight made pools of yellow on the marble. What was this place? And the man he caught a glimpse of, the first night this place opened up to him, from between the windows that could have been doors. That was his Stranger from the Tavern of the White Horse, almost a century ago, Hob was sure of it. Hob had come to suspect that on that otherwise ordinary summer evening, he had embraced immortality and perhaps, given up his soul with perfect happiness. What a fable that would be. -- November, 1475. Hob Gadling arrives in Venice, explores a mysterious world of cosmic grandeur, trades ink-stained love confessions with his stranger, and embraces the most important lesson of all: that life is a story all on its own, past and present and an ending that isn't really an ending at all

Fic & Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48302461/chapters/121819900

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Title: Holding On While You Slip Away Writer: @acedragontype Artist: @alexxuun Rating: Explicit Warnings: Outdated queer language/ideas, transphobia, minor character death, public outing, witch trials and drowning, warfare Word Count: 33,148 Pairing/Main Characters: Hob Gadling/Dream (Morpheus) Up to 10 Additional Tags: Trans Hob Gadling, Queer History, Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Getting Together, Dream Sex, Dream Transformation, Trans Hob gets his preferred body in dreams, Top Morpheus, Top Hob Gadling

Summary:

He was not born Robert Gadling, he'd spent the first 16 years of his life going by another name. And yet, he'd always been Hob in his dreams. A Trans!Hob au exploring his various relationships in the context of queer history, as well as how he feels about his own body and identity.

Fic & Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48290944

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Title: Closing the Distance Writer: Ryunya (@ryunyaz) Artist: innenui Rating: Mature Warnings: Attempted Sexual Assault Word Count: 18k Pairing/main characters: Dream/Hob Up to 10 Additional Tags: H/C, Blood and Violence, Fluff, Sensory Overload

Summary:

Distance (and time) make the heart grow fonder, and both Dream and Hob are very happy to be finally reunited. However, Dream gets affected by the Waking world in ways he never has before, and that complicates things a bit.

Fic & Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48624715?view_full_work=true

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Title: Shoulder the Sky Writer: im_not_corrupted (@im-not-corrupted) Artist: @kd-heart Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Word Count: 35,279 Pairing/main characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Up to 10 Additional Tags: Heavy Angst, Depression, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus has Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Grief/Mourning, POV Second Person, aftermath of imprisonment, Emotional Hurt, Suicide Attempt, Post Season/Series 01

Summary:

Dream's time spent caged by Roderick Burgess has changed him, and he is tired. The Dreaming is loud, an ocean that drowns him. His responsibilities are another cage, and Dream comes to the realisation that he does not want to be who he is anymore. But he is Endless, and the Endless cannot change. It is not enough to banish the exhaustion that haunts Dream's steps, but he finds comfort in Hob's company as the two of them navigate a tentative friendship. It is a break, when the Dreaming gets too loud. It is not enough. Dream finds himself unable to find the words to explain what is happening inside his own head, though many are willing to listen. Eventually, his own desire to change and be something different manifests itself as a door inside the Dreaming that will take him to the Sunless Lands. It is not the change he wanted. But he is tired, and this door is the only way to escape his function. Though he doesn't take the chance at first, eventually the Dreaming manifests his own resentment for his function as a fog that blankets his kingdom, until Death seems like the only way out. Thankfully, Death of the Endless has another solution to offer her brother.

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48299206 Art (Podfic): https://archiveofourown.org/works/48631597

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Title: It's A Kind of Magic Writer: artful_fanfic (@artfulusername) Artist: @jeniidrawsshit Rating: Explicit (E) Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Drowning-Related PTSD Word Count: 21,957 Pairing/main characters: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling; Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Matthew the Raven, Lucien | Lucienne (The Sandman) Up to 10 Additional Tags: Movie Night, POV Alternating, Appearance by Death of the Endless, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Blowjob

Summary:

While Dream and Hob navigate their newly-admitted friendship by engaging in traditional movie nights, neither of them seem prepared to admit that being simply friends is the last thing they want. Will their assumptions about the other's wants and needs keep getting in the way? Will Dream stop wanting to glare at Matthew for teaching him about "Netflix and Chill?" Only time will tell. Fortunately for them, they've got plenty of it.

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48640318/chapters/122695573 Art: https://www.tumblr.com/jeniidrawsshit/725505982684397568/endlessbigbangitsakindofmagic

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Title: More Than a Concept Writer: AnneMcSommers Artist: @five-and-dimes Rating: Mature Warnings: Dysfunctional Family, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Touch-StarvedTouch-Starved Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Self-Worth Issues, Self-Acceptance, Homophobia, Acephobia, Internalized Acephobia, Non-Consensual Body Modifications, Trauma, Bad Parenting, Food Issues Word Count: 15345 Relationships: Desire of the Endless & Dream of the Endless, Death of the Endless & Dream of the Endless, Delirium of the Endless & Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Despair of the Endless & Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless & Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Up to 10 Additional Tags: Family Feels, The New Inn is a Temple to Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, non-binary characters, Angst with a happy ending, Dream of the Endless| Morpheus needs a hug, Miscommunication, Sensory Processing Disorder, Misunderstanding

Summary:

When Desire plans to host a June family dinner, with human aspects that Dream doesn't understand, he turns to his human friend Hob Gadling for more information. What he learns leads Dream on a journey of self discovery, about who he is, what it means to be Endless, and his relationship with those he calls family.

Fic & Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48096463/chapters/121279201

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Title: An EPIPHANY of POPPIES upon the BATTLEFIELD or Robert Gadling and Delirium of the Endless' Adventures through No Man's Lands Writer: @questing-wulfstan Artist: Mockspeed ( @mock-arts ) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Canon-typical violence, the Corinthian is his own warning Word Count: 26k Pairing/main characters: Morpheus & Hob Gadling, Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Delirium of the Endless & Hob Gadling // Hob Gadling, Delirium of the Endless, Death of the Endless, Lucienne, the Corinthian, Dream of the Endless Rating: Explicit Up to 10 Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Canon Divergence, Hob Gadling saves Dream of the Endless from Burgess' basement, World War II, Substance Abuse, Hallucinations, Suicidal Thoughts, religious Hob Gadling, Catholicism, Blood and Violence

Summary:

April 1940, On a French battlefield, Hob Gadling doubts his will to persevere in being alive for the second time of his existence. He swallows morphine in the hope to soothe his horror-scarified mind, and summons a mirage of the stranger who occupied his thoughts as the patron of his immortality. In a Japanese psychiatric ward, Delirium of the Endless is alerted by Dream's irruption in her realm, who she found missing when she sought his company on her quest for the Prodigal. Disappointment overcomes her as she finds it was but an image of her brother conjured by a mortal, and so it does Hob when her eruption dismisses the vision. Delirium will not resign herself to her exponential loss of brothers however, neither will Hob Gadling withhold his help from any entity in distress, whether the stranger or his younger sister ; they just might hold the potential to liberate Morpheus between their four hands ...

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48626764 Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48305194

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Title: ask what you want of my soul Writer: PanBoleyn (@eidetictelekinetic) Artist: kdheart (@kd-heart) Rating: Mature Warnings: Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 16,354 Pairing/main characters: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless/Hope|Elpis; Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Elpis (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Mythological Characters, Endless Siblings - Character, Original Characters Up to 10 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Fem!Dreamling, Hope Hob (or Hope Ella), artistic license - mythology, Canon-Typical Violence, Temporary Character Death

Summary:

In modern English, they will even speak of hopes and dreams together, as if they were one. They are not, but hope is often what starts the turn of someone’s dream to their reality, and so perhaps it is not surprising, that the youngest child of Brightness and Day was drawn to the thirdborn child of Time and Night. In which Pandora's jar was never a jar, and Hope was in love with Dream before she was lost. And long, long after, Ella Gadling caught the attention of Dream and Death, setting in motion the end of a curse, and revelations along with it.

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48314875 Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48631930

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Title: Do you believe in life after love Writer: dino_cattivo Artist: spiaem ( @spiaem ) Rating: teens and up Warnings: none Word Count: 17,667 Pairing/main characters: dream/hob Up to 10 Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending self-Esteem Issues, Nosebleed ,illnesses ,Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Summary:

God's like Zeus have shown themselves to humanity in modern times as they felt their power dwindle. With the worship of the people at an all-time height, they recover and are stronger than ever, sometimes even forfilling their followers wishes. History teacher Hob doesn't pray to any god. The history texts have taught him gods were only kind as long as they needed something. A belief that wavers after a bad breakup with his long-term boyfriend. Though before he can do something, he meets Morpheus, a handsome stranger showing interest in him and pushing for a relationship. They end up together but Morpheus has a hidden agenda.

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48302005/chapters/121818418#workskin Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49454986

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Title: where dreams dwell not Writer: jamais_vu0 Artist: foxish (@kitsune2022-artish) Rating: Teen Warnings: canon-typical violence, temporary character death Word Count: 89,523 Pairing/main characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless, Hob/Dream Additional tags: fairy tale AU, Hob saves Dream from the fishbowl, slow burn

Summary:

Hob Gadling is wasting away, aching for adventure and the chance to live life as it's meant to be lived. When he receives a mysterious letter promising all the adventure he could want in exchange for a year of his company, he takes the offer and finds himself in a lonely castle in a land of magic, a strange figure haunting his dreams. And when Hob himself breaks the one rule he's been given days before the year is complete, he finds himself embarking on the adventure he's always wanted, in order to save his Dream from a fate worse than death.

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48303526/chapters/121823242 Art: https://www.tumblr.com/kitsune2022-artish/726233688430477312/my-art-for-the-endlessbigbang-2023-for

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Title: Love at Third Sight Writer: Gfawkes / LLflorence (@llflorence) Artist: @hpurlnovi Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 20,455 Pairing/main characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Up to 10 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Top Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Bottom Hob Gadling, Explicit Sexual Content, Identity Reveal, Mutual Pining, Romance, Light Angst, Emotional Sex

Summary:

Hob is dyslexic, and music notes are just like letters. B’s and d’s and p’s and q’s all look the same, as do all those little bastard tadpoles on the musical staff. So he does it a little differently, with a little humor and a lot of close-ups of his hairy fingers. And for some reason, it’s a hit in more ways than one. As Robyn begins to tune his instrument, Hob cases the room for his stranger. It’s the third time the handsome man has been to one of their gigs. There’s something familiar about him, something Hob can’t quite put his finger on. But the fact that he’s made eye contact for the third time is extremely intriguing. Johanna, of course, notices. “You’re looking for him again, aren’t you.”

Art & Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48001063/chapters/121029040

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Title: Sunrise in Chocolate Ink Writer: @aquilathefighter Artist: @vriah Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 15,047 Pairing/main characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Up to 10 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Autistic Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Anxiety Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Social Anxiety, Poet Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Barista Hob Gadling

Summary:

Dream Endlaez is newly living on his own and trying to make it as a poet. He starts going to work at a nearby coffee shop known for supporting local artists, where he meets a handsome and charming barista named Hob. Dream learns the business is not doing well, so he decides to host a poetry reading night to attract customers (and boost his career at the same time!), all the while falling for the barista.

Art & Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48363172

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Title: The Many Lives of Hob Gadling Writer: @landwriter Artist: @teejaystumbles Pairing/main characters: Dream/Hob Rating: M Warnings: Chose Not To Warn Word Count: ~20K Up to 10 Additional Tags: Canon Divergence, Non-Linear Narrative, Reincarnation, Letters, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Devotion, Quests

Summary:

A man, supine and utterly still, in what might have seemed like a deep sleep, draws in a long slow breath and opens his eyes. He smiles up at the sky, for he knows not much at all, but he knows this: Hob Gadling is a man of good fortune. A story about refusing to leave. A story about a quest that spans lifetimes. A story about losing someone, and bringing them back with love.

Art & Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49088941

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Title: Strains of a Melody Writer: @ginoeh Artists: Theotherwillow & @kairennart Rating: M Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Word Count: 55 526 Pairing/main characters: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling & Orpheus, Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless, Orpheus Up to 10 Additional Tags: mild gore, past character death, angst and hurt/comfort, suicidal ideation, comic compliant assisted suicide of minor character, Hob's inability to die despite bein fatally wounded, look this has a hopeful ending okay?, Light At The End Of The Tunnel, Orpheus is a warning all for himself really, Comic spoilers for Brief Lives

Summary:

When Hob Gadling strands on Naxos at the beginning of the 20th century, some long-laid-plans and designs unravel. While the great stories always return to their original forms, for some this is the start of an entirely new narrative. The Fates, though, demand their due and neither Dream not Hob are free until all debts are paid in full.

Story & Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48637858/chapters/122689126

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Title: Which Prisoners Call the Sky Writer: @dreamerinsilico Artist: @harukaspiegel Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Word Count: 16,339 Pairing/main characters: Dream of the Endless|Morpheus/Hob Gadling; Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless|Morpheus, The Corinthian, Desire of the Endless, Unity Kinkaid, Matthew the Raven Up to 10 Additional Tags: Angst With a Happy Ending, Nightmares, The Corinthian is His Own Warning, a particular Siamese cat, Dreamwalking, Medical Abuse, Fishbowl Rescue, the rescue is mutual

Summary:

In his lucid periods, Hob worries more and more often about how long he has been asleep. People dream of things that don’t exist all the time, of course, but not the same things, with such consistency. In 1916, Hob Gadling falls asleep and doesn't wake up. He begins to realize that he can wander after an encounter with a young girl on a black-sand beach, and he knows there's something important missing, everywhere he goes. When he learns it might be a someone, he puts all of his six centuries of being a tenacious bastard to use.

Story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49760731 Art: https://www.tumblr.com/harukaspiegel/727195638811574272/wich-prisoners-call-the-sky-by?source=share

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Title: The Other Kingdom Writer: Banhus (@that-banhus) Artist: Mockspeed (@mock-arts) Rating: E Warnings: Gore, attempted suicide (OC, minor character, not too explicit), canonical minor character death, starvation, illness, sexual content, horror. Word Count: ~50k Pairing/main characters: Dream/Hob Gadling; Dream/Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Randall Burgess, Johanna Constantine, The Corinthian, Jessamy, Destiny, Mazikeen. Up to 10 Additional Tags: WWI, AU - Death captured by Roderick Burgess, Sandman-typical roadtrips, plot heavy, po-ta-toes, slow burn, I will show you fear in a handful of sand.

Summary:

In 1916, Roderick Burgess successfully summons Death, and Hob Gadling wakes up in no-man’s land alongside three dead soldiers.

Story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49615189 Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48305038

#the endless big bang #the sandman #masterlist

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 1 year

Text

Anyone interested in some Lucienne content from The Sandman…? She’s certainly something… 😮‍💨 Really hoping this reaches the right audience.

Let me know! Send in some asks, message me, or comment if so!!!

#cissyenthusiast010155 finds #lucienne sandman #lucienne #lucienne (the sandman)#Lucienne (sandman)#lucienne fanfiction #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman x y/n #the sandman x reader #the sandman #the sandman smut #the sandman fandom #vivienne acheampong #vivienne acheampong character

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two-hands-toward-the-sun · 2 months

Text

“hey sunbreak when are you gonna write for sandman ships who have actually interacted in canon” um. next question please

lucienne x mazikeen wall sex <3

“You always surprise me with your strength,” Mazikeen murmured.

Lucienne smiled. “Books are heavy.”

“I highly doubt you are carrying books with your thighs, Lucienne.”

“Did no one ever teach you to always lift with your legs, never your back?”

“Do you truly think that is something a demon would concern herself with?”

Lucienne lifted a shoulder in a shrug, somehow managing to look superior even with her shirt hanging unbuttoned and her breasts spilling out of her brassiere. “Perhaps she ought to.”

Mazikeen nipped her ear. “Perhaps you ought to put your legs to better use.”

#sunbreak writes #mazikeen the sandman #lucienne the sandman #mazikeen x lucienne #lucienne x mazikeen #sunbreak writes smut

11 notes · View notes

cosmictapestry · 11 months

Note

C7 and B16? The Agonies spa service combo

C7. bathing together

and

B16. massage

enough sexiness. Horrors and Agonies ahoy. and some sexiness. and the single saddest most Unwell entity to have ever existed. amen

@pratchettfan87 says that there are hot springs outside the castle and i say hell yeah there are

prompt list + fills here

The pressures of Lord Morpheus's position are harder on him now than they were before his imprisonment.

At first Lucienne hoped he just needed to readjust to managing his storm and his realm all at once, and that once he did the vacant exhaustion in his eyes would become less common. This has not been the case. Instead he seems to grow wearier, more distant when he drifts.

He talks to her, at least. He holds her hand in quiet stolen moments, loves her well in their shared chambers, comes to her when her own dreamscape runs dark. She wants to think she's helping. But though he becomes softer with her, more honest and forthcoming, his wounded existence drains him, leaves him spread thin and so, so tired.

She finds him in his throne room, staring up at the shifting stained glass windows. They seem cloudy today, the shapes indistinct and the light dim. His upturned face is bathed in the opaque gold cast from the jagged image of a star who had gone mad. He turns his head to look at her, and he blinks several times before he recognizes her. "Lucienne."

Today Lucienne is lonely, and she is stressed from the noise and the bustle of her rebuilt realm, and she is tense in mind and body, and she trusts him when she trusts nothing else. He frowns and his eyes flicker over her face, and he doesn't move, but his focus sharpens. "How can I help?"

"I've not been to the hot springs since you rebuilt them," she says.

Lord Morpheus stands there awkwardly still, and he looks away from her. "You deserve to rest, Lucienne," he says softly. "You certainly don't need my permission."

Instead of answering, she holds her hand out to him from across the expanse of the throne room. He stares at it, and he appears conflicted, and sad, and scared, and like he is as close to collapsing as he is to accepting any offer to bridge the gap between himself and someone who loves him. She waits for him to make his choice.

Finally he takes a step that echoes through his great hall, and then another, approaching her with all the caution of some once-bitten prey animal. She has bitten him before, to be fair. He stops in front of her and he stares down at her hand, impassive marble expression running with fault lines. His hand shakes when he raises it to hers.

Lucienne clasps that shaking hand in both her own and watches his jaw shift and his eyes brim with tears. His shoulders shake, too, his black cloak shivering with the motion. "I apologize," he whispers. "You do not want my company today."

She dips her head, tries to catch his gaze as it drifts from her. "You've decided that, have you?" she teases, her thumb tracing the sharp ridges of his knuckles. "I don't get a say?"

He flinches. "I didn't say that," too quickly, breath rapid, shivering intensifying, his eyes snap to hers. "I did not—you misunderstand—"

"Dream," she interrupts, startled, squeezing that ice-cold hand. "A joke, my lord."

He does not respond, he just stares, wide-eyed and terrified of her, of harming her or being harmed by her or something he is seeing that is not her at all. "My lord," Lucienne whispers. "My lord, come with me. Rest with me. I want you to. I am asking you to."

She watches as this calms him, steadies him, and he breathes, and the panic slowly drains from him, leaves him bowed and yielding. She holds his hand until he nods his head almost imperceptibly.

She closes her eyes, and when she opens them they are no longer in the throne room—they are in a cavernous grotto, its granite walls silvery pink and sparkling by the light of the sun gleaming through the open roof of the cave. Mosses and flowers and ferns bloom over the cliff face and cascade down to obscure the edges of a clear blue pool.

Lucienne and her lord stand at the bank of the pool, soft sand sloping down to the water's edge. Sweet-smelling steam rises in curls from the pool and the flowers that take root around it bow inward and sway languidly in its swirling eddies.

He leans into her now, the privacy or the heat or her patience cutting through his resistance. His forehead bumps hers, his hand cradled close to her chest, his shivers palpable in her own bones. There's an undercurrent of desperation in this soft moment, his eager acceptance of distraction, her need to set aside the past hundred years like they never happened. "May I take your clothes?"

Lucienne raises one hand to his face, pets his cheek, and he leans into it. "You may." Her garments melt away into silky sand and then into nothing. His free hand spreads across her lower back, holding her close to him. "Will you be able to undress?"

He thinks about it, and she kisses him to tell him it's alright, that he doesn't have to answer or know or make a decision if he can't. "Not right now," he manages eventually, when her lips have left his red and slick. "Later, perhaps." He swallows hard, breathes heavy between them. "I want to touch you. You feel real."

She does not know what it means for him that something might feel real. He is the king of all that is not real. And he is mad with it. "Touch me, then," and she moves his hand in her grasp to her breast and feels it trembling there. "As much as you need. I'm here."

His arm wraps around her back and he pulls her to his chest, embraces her, crushes her close, breathes harsh and unsteady in her ear. She' wishes he wouldn't wait until he is hanging by a thread to ask for a hug. She breathes in the scent of his skin, presses herself all along the line of his body, lets him stay there and shake—and she feels better, at least, because her home is solid in her arms and they are together.

Lord Morpheus pulls away before he's warmed, his eyes downcast, his expression drawn and uncertain until she kisses him again. "Whatever you need," she whispers against his lips. "Tell me, love."

He finds it easier to show her, as he often does, and he helps her to sit on a fluffy towel he's manifested under her feet, and he disappears momentarily from her view. She is left gazing at the sunlit haze above the water, obscuring blue water amongst pale pink stone and dark green foliage. She feels his hand on her shoulder, then the back of her neck, and finally she feels him sit behind her on the rise, his legs politely crossed.

His hands when they touch her are cold and trembling, but the oil on them is warm, and it smells sharp and sweet, and he pauses with the softest pressure on her shoulder blades. "Is this alright?"

All at once Lucienne is painfully aware of the tension in her back and neck and the grinding clench of her jaw. His thumbs rub smooth circles either side of her spine. "Not quite what I came to you for," she teases as though she isn't close to melting just from what he's giving her.

"You came to me because you feel alone." He leans forward and presses his lips to the back of her head. "Alone and weary from the burdens I've saddled you with."

"You misremember," she tells him gently, patiently, when her irritation fizzles as quickly as it kindles. "I have chosen every burden I've ever known. You have not."

This is not something Lord Morpheus can acknowledge if he hopes to remain in control of everything inside him, and so he ignores it. His hands shake harder. "Regardless," he whispers. "Let me help you. Please."

Lucienne would be a fool to argue when his clever hands begin to knead her shoulders, softly unwinding her tension, making her head drop forward in bliss. His palms run down either side of her spine, his long fingers sink into the plushness of her hips, draw back up and then down again, working softness into her frame. The strain in her back melts away under his attention.

The air is warm and wet and the sweat that gathers on her skin mingles with the oil, eases his movements, makes even the deepest pressure on her shoulders and lower back glide sweet and smooth, and she feels like she's floating in the pool already.

She realizes she's making some fairly obscene noises when he makes a sound in response, a comforting little shush that seems to jolt through her. Gods, his hands—on her neck now, then her upper arms, pulling her back against his chest so he can kiss her temple, stroking down her biceps. He shifts behind her, and he stills, again uncertain, and she guesses what the problem is, and she scoots back into him until she feels him hard against her arse.

With the unspoken permission he uncurls his legs, straightens them out on either side of her to accommodate the spread of her hips, pressed close to him. He does not move against her, just resumes his attentions, though without access to her back he's just stroking her now, feeling her skin, breathing hot on her ear. That's fine—she doesn't think she could feel much more jellylike than she does.

Lucienne tips her head back on his shoulder, exposing her throat for him. He kisses along the underside of her jaw, and his hands roam back to where she put them in the first place, cupping her breasts all slick and soft and cool, thumbing over her nipples, and Lucienne glances down to see the way her flesh spills between his fingers, the rich darkness of her skin worshiped by the pale of his own. Her head falls back again, and he gives her an approving groan, lavving his tongue over the hinge of her jaw.

She lifts an arm up behind her to wind through his hair, stroke it while he mouths over her hot skin. She is boneless, slouched, weak against her lord, sighing and whispering moans to him, encouraging him to pinch and grip at her until her spine is arching, hips pitching up, legs rubbing together in luxuriant delight, asking for his hands somewhere else in all but words.

"There you are," Lord Morpheus whispers, and his left hand abandons her breast, runs down the length of her body to touch between her legs. Lucienne sighs and stretches and mumbles lax encouragement that he takes in stride. He rubs her clit with three slick fingers, draws those fingers down, slips the middle inside her. "You are so beautiful," he tells her, choked, his teeth on her shoulder now. "Lucienne. My Lucienne."

She's practically purring, rocking up into his hand, fingers clenched in his hair. He buries his face against her neck now, mouthing up her throat, right hand tweaking her nipple in time with the drag of his finger inside her, the others tapping her folds, palm grinding on her clit. She is disembodied, wholly so, reduced to the warmth of her structureless frame held together by his hands.

He draws it out, doesn't give her more than that one finger—and it seems like he's just feeling her, inside and out, stroking where she's softest and warmest, and she's feeling him too, every slow deliberate slide building her up to a slow, burning orgasm that leaves her utterly nerveless in his arms.

Her lord kisses her face and pets her shaking thighs while she comes down, sweet approving hums and praise from his soft lips. She is still not quite in her body, and it takes long moments for her to return. She notices that his shivering has died down to a faint tremor, and his chest has warmed, and his erection prods her arse.

She endures it for several minutes more, relishing in his hands and the warmth of their realm, the release and the affirmation she's been seeking that has now encompassed her entirely. Then she sits up, and he makes a protesting noise as she stands, hands steadying her legs when she immediately stumbles.

As soon as she's stable Lucienne holds her hands out, pulls him to his feet, then stretches up to kiss him. "Help me wash up?"

Lord Morpheus glances over her shoulder at the spring, then back to her, and down to his clothes, soft black trousers and long-sleeved shirt since they left the throne room. His feet are bare, white toes buried in the pink sand, black-painted nails peeking through. "You don't need to undress," Lucienne reminds him.

Her lord swallows several times, and there's a crease on his brow that means he is going to be extraordinarily honest with her about something that is confusing him. These things are usually difficult for him to articulate and painful for her to hear. "I fantasized about this, when I was imprisoned," he says, and he cannot look at her, or at her face at all. "Hot water and being touched. It was my most desperate fantasy, the most pleasant feeling I could imagine, when not feeling became unbearable. It was all I thought about for months at a time. It was all I wanted."

Lucienne does not say anything because she is preoccupied trying to conceptualize that, the depths of the torment he's alluding to, the absence of anything at all but memory of pleasant sensation. Her silence makes him flinch and begin to pull away, though he allows himself to be held fast by her hands squeezing his. "I apologize," he says quickly, "I know it is—strange—"

"It is not strange," Lucienne interrupts with more fire than she anticipates. "Please do not think it is strange."

He stares at her now, wide-eyed, bewildered, but something on her face must ensnare him, because he tilts his head and doesn't try to pull away again.

"Let me give it to you," Lucienne says, and she runs her hands up his sleeves, feels him shiver in the wake of her touch. She searches his eyes and all the fractured glass of his expression, weariness and terror and confusion anchored to his bones. "You can have it now, my lord. You can have your bath and, and someone to hold you." His eyes well with tears. "You are home and you are safe and you are with me. You can have this."

Lord Morpheus is silent, and his throat works, and his eyes dart like he's fighting for his life inside his own head—too accurate a turn of phrase, and for her own sanity Lucienne resolves not to use it again. His shirt melts away all at once under her hands, leaves her touching soft skin that trembles, very nearly crawls, and he flinches. Lucienne is still, and she is silent, and he breathes, and his trousers disappear too, and he is bare and beautiful before her.

She takes his hands. She pulls him with her, her eyes on his all the while, and the first touch of hot water on her heel is so shocking she gasps a little. She ducks her head to watch the clear blue swirling around her ankles with her next step, and it feels better than she imagined it would. There was no hot water in all her lord's long absence. It brings tears to her eyes, and she smiles up at him, and he stares at her.

One more step back brings his toes to the water's edge. He is shaking quite violently again, and he is soft against his thigh, and a shudder runs through him at the first touch on his skin. "Good," Lucienne whispers, and she squeezes his hands, and she draws him forward into the water.

Lord Morpheus is crying by the time they are waist-deep, silent tears running down pale cheeks that have begun to pink in the heat. "Wait," he tugs on her hands to still her. "A moment, please."

Her thumbs stroke his knuckles. "How do you feel?"

"It's good," his voice is low, hoarse, his shoulders hunched high and stiff.

Lucienne knows him well, and she knows he didn't have to ask her to know she wanted what she always wants from him in their encounters—she wants him to feel as though his body of dreamstuff were mortal, and so he does. "Too good?"

"A moment, please," he confirms, and his eyes slip closed, and they stand there together in the water, and they breathe until he is calm, and then she leads him deeper.

At the far end of the pool the water laps at the top of Lucienne's breasts. She sinks down, submerges herself to the neck, and he follows, like he has lost the wherewithal to do anything but follow her lead, the way he always gets when his function is especially cruel and her hand is especially soft. His hazy eyes drift shut, and his breath heaves out of him, and he does not look like he's enjoying himself at all.

Lucienne pets his cheek, wipes his tears away with the hot water, cups his face while he fights for control of his overwhelm. "It's only water," she teases him to feel his breath, hot and wet on a tearful laugh. "You're alright, my lord."

"Safe with you," he mumbles, and Lucienne gasps, and she kisses him, and the hand not on his face wraps around the back of his neck, pulls him close. Her fingers twine up through his hair, tug it until his mouth opens to her and everywhere they touch is hot and wet. He moans with the slide of her tongue, shivers and keens when she moves to mouth at his jawline. "Lucienne."

"Relax, love," Lucienne whispers. "You're allowed to have this."

Lord Morpheus sobs, and he trembles, and he relaxes all at once, strings cut, resistance shattered. He curls into her, his head falling against hers, one hand deep in his hair, the other stroking broad circles over his back. That is all she does—she touches him, the way that melts him, soft pressure, no intention to harm him or leave him or trick him or humiliate him or anything he might convince himself she wants to do.

Through the almost-pain he clings to her, the rapture of his own fulfilled fantasy forced through the pinhole of what he allows himself. "Thank you," he whispers as though she's doing anything at all, as though he is not her lover asking her for the simplest of intimacies. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Lucienne shushes him, and she cries for him the way he hates, but he does not notice.

#it's so so so long i couldn't find where i wanted to stop #anyway. ouch and fuck and argh #cause of death: trying to be thematically consistent in my fucking smut drabbles #the sandman #dream of the endless #lucienne the librarian #lucid dreaming #morphienne #minors dni #x

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 3 months

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 15

Chapters: 15/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Warning: This chapter includes some detailed smut.

As the upcoming fashion show loomed and your days became increasingly packed, you found scant time to contemplate anything else. However, the emergence of an unfamiliar figure unsettled you.

Note: I needed to write this now, as I won't have another opportunity later to include Desire again until a certain point. I used the Dreamcast audio as reference again for their interaction.

I honestly don't know if smut can be incorporated during the Vortex part, so I thought to add more of it here.

Hob's eyes widened while gripping his tea cup. Following a few moments of blinking to regain his bearings, he gingerly set his mug aside. Then, fueled by a playful energy, he simulated an explosion by placing his hands around his head and even supplied his own sound effects.

With a smile and a nod of your head, you echoed his sentiments. "It's mind-blowing, I know"

"I might be an immortal, Shortcake, but you have your fair share of supernatural roots.”

"We are definitely not your everyday humans," you agreed, bursting into hearty laughter.

"It must be tough though, isn't it? To know that your mother has been around all this time," he carried on, his tone shifting to a more serious one.

"It is. But, now that I can think about it from a different perspective, I can at least understand why they had to keep it a secret."

It took you several days to digest your newfound revelation, but despite everything, you couldn't stay upset with your father who was merely doing his utmost to protect and care for you.

"You know, Hob, sometimes it feels like I've quantum leaped. It’s as if the reality I'm experiencing now is not the one I used to live in. I know it sounds a bit Star Trek-y, but..."

"No, no, I understand. You've undergone such significant changes recently. It makes me wonder if our dear friend had a hand in all this," he mused.

"Maybe not directly. To be honest, I can't even imagine where I'd be without him.”

Hob gifted you a warm smile, looking at you with a blend of care and understanding. "You truly do love him, don't you?”

"Immensely," you affirmed, your voice teeming with genuine sincerity.

"I could see a remarkable change in him, but I'm certain that you're also to thank for that," He noted thoughtfully.

“I didn’t do anything, really.”

"The only time I tried to get him to confide in me, he shied away. I still don't know exactly how you two met, but he adores you. That much is clear.”

A faint blush quietly spread across your cheeks as you savored your tea. Even though Morpheus typically kept a guarded demeanor, it was comforting to realize that his affection for you was evident to others.

However, an abrupt thought caused you to falter, prompting a moment of hesitation before you ventured to raise the subject. You debated whether it could be inconsiderate to mention it, but your curiosity was as potent as the infamous curiosity that led to the cat's downfall, a sentiment frequently echoed by Ella.

And so, you chose to bring it up.

“Hob, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Shortcake. What is it?”

You glanced downward, your grip on your cup tightening. "Wasn't it difficult for you, having to see the ones you loved grow old and pass away?"

You almost chastised yourself mentally when you saw a trace of sadness cross his eyes. Nevertheless, he composed himself and provided you with his answer.

"Yes, it was. But not once did I consider giving up on love."

"So you managed to move on, to fall in love again... and again."

"I know where this is going," Hob interjected, disrupting your whirlpool of emotional musings. "I speak from experience when I say that he will never truly be able to move on from you."

"I know that he won't forget. It's just..."

"It’s not comforting, I get it.”

You stared at the tea, its still surface seeming to mirror your somber expression.

"It's stupid. I made my choice fully aware of what I was signing up for.”

"We may understand the consequences, Y/N, but they won't be enough to deter us from getting what we want," Hob declared, his voice a blend of wisdom and melancholy. “Look at me. I could have left this city, even this entire Country, long ago. I could have avoided undue stress and accusations of practicing witchcraft. I could have ceased the charade of pretending to be my own descendant, and yet... I made the decision to stay. To meet new people, knowing that I would never get old.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you listened.

"What's the purpose of immortality if it means spending your life alone? You could follow in my footsteps and ask to never die. Wouldn't that be an interesting adventure?" Hob suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes, you've brought that up before.”

"Have you given it any thought?”

"No, not yet. I just can't envision myself living forever.”

Could you even bear to remain stationary like Hob did? How would you maintain your friendships, career, and every other aspect of life without the incessant need to explain your lack of aging? You truly admired Hob's perseverance, although it was something you likely wouldn't be able to replicate. The idea of being Morpheus' sole love for all of eternity was enticing, yet the choice to accept immortality was not something you were ready to undertake.

Hob tenderly encircled your wrist with his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. His eyes sparkled with a joyful glint as he regarded you.“You never know, my friend. You never know.”

As more days began to turn into weeks, your workload steadily mounted. The preparations for the fashion show were progressing seamlessly and at a satisfactory pace, yet you could palpably sense the rising tide of disquiet in the atmosphere.

You lost track of the times you had to prevent Ella from nervously scratching her skin. As she repeatedly revised the lineup, her anxiety levels soared to unprecedented heights. The event bore great importance for the company, being the first major show in which the Corbyn&Jones brand was participating. You couldn't really blame her for feeling swamped, considering your situation was quite alike.

Your name was slated to be highlighted as the sole creator of the show's exclusive collection, and Ella had discussed the potential this could have in advancing your career as a designer, along with the enormity of the situation that was just now beginning to sink in.

At last able to take a respite from the organizing, you sauntered towards the lounge area with some coffee, hoping to replenish your energy. As you entered the room, you noticed one of your colleagues, Freya, absorbed in her tablet, barely acknowledging your arrival. She appeared to be immersed in deep thought, sighing from time to time, projecting an aura of concern and distress.

She was known for her vibrant energy in the office. Seeing her so dispirited now, you couldn't help but intervene.

"Hey Freya, are you okay?" You inquired, cautiously settling next to her.

Oh, Y/N," she responded, turning her head and managing to conjure up a strained smile. "Yes, I'm fine.”

Judging by the faint redness surrounding her eyes, barely concealed by her makeup, it was easy for you to tell that the truth was far from what she claimed.

"No, something's off. Would you like to talk about it?”

She let out another lengthy, wavering sigh. "I... it's nothing, really. It's ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous if it makes you cry.”

Freya offered a self-deprecating chuckle, hastily blinking away the tears welling in her eyes before meeting your gaze squarely.

"I've received an invitation to a friend's wedding,” she disclosed. "It’s happening in two weeks. We've been close since middle school, you see… and I just know that if I decline the invite, she'll lash out at me.”

"Is there a specific reason behind your reluctance to attend her wedding?”

Freya sniffled, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. She then tapped on her tablet's screen and extended the device towards you.

"This is the dress she selected for all the bridesmaids, including me.”

You stared at the image in disbelief, taking in the red monstrosity displayed in front of you. The design itself wasn't inherently ugly, but to say that it was unsuitable for a bridesmaid would be a gross understatement.

"Wait. You’re joking, right? She expects her bridesmaids to wear this?”

She nodded. "I’d look like shit.”

"That’s not true. The problem here is that such a dress is far from an appropriate choice for a wedding. Does she really want her guests to be focused on you ladies when she's supposed to be the center of attention?”

"She's quite controlling and insists on having everything her way, regardless of others' feelings or opinions. She always had a thing for showy stuff, and her wedding is far from modest too.”

You placed the tablet down. "Have you talked to her about it? If her fashion choices diverge significantly from your style and make you feel uncomfortable, she should respect your sentiments.”

"Oh, I have, but she's as stubborn as a mule.”

She was justifiably upset, but beyond that, you could see how appalled she was at the prospect of potentially having to don an attire that simply wouldn't suit her, or any other bridesmaid with a shred of good taste.

"Freya, this isn't right. A good friend should consider the way you feel. I understand that this is her wedding, but she cannot expect all of you to comply without voicing any objections.”

She diverted her gaze, toying with the golden bracelet that adorned her wrist. "Y/N, have you really taken a good look at me?”

“Yes?”

"All my friends could easily pass for magazine models, while I've always been the black sheep in the group. Quite literally.”

You pursed your lips, feeling a surge of heat coursing through your body. "Freya, you don’t realize how incredible and beautiful you are, do you?”

“You don’t need to flatter me.”

Her voice bore a trace of irritation, indicating that she felt somehow offended.

"It's not a matter of needing to, it's simply how I see you.”

She lapsed into silence.

"Listen, if attending her wedding means that you have to wear something you hate, then don't go.”

“I can’t do that, Y/N.”

"Why? Just because she demands your presence? It's clear that she doesn't value your opinion, or you as a person. So why should you care about her reaction if you refuse?”

"It's..." she hesitated. "...not that simple.”

Witnessing her lack of self-assurance was heart-wrenching, especially considering she was one of the first members of the team who embraced you as part of the family from day one. Freya was kind-hearted, humorous, perpetually cheerful, and tackled her job with a positive attitude every single day. Despite her struggles to recognize her own beauty, you couldn't really pinpoint a single flaw in her.

Consequently, realizing that her supposed best friend was the source of her distress and suffering, fueled your resolve to take action, any action, to restore her joy and self-assurance.

"I assume she's chosen red as the color scheme for all of you?”

"Yes, she wants this thing in red."

"What if you opt for a different dress, one that maintains the elegant yet sexy style and color, but without being as revealing?”

"Oh no, she would absolutely go nuts. She's set on this dress, period. That's just how her mind functions.”

You huffed. "Look, Freya, whether you attend her wedding or not is entirely your choice. But you really shouldn't let her exert this level of control over you. Let me try something, I have an idea.”

Her eyes expanded in astonishment. "Wait, what? You're not planning to design something for me, are you?”

“Why not?”

“Uhh…. because you're already swamped with work between our new collections and the show?”

Getting up from the couch, you dismissed her concerns with a wave of your hand. "I can do it in my spare time, it's no trouble at all.”

"But...”

"No buts. Allow me to do this for you. And if you're not convinced, then I'll let the matter rest.”

Freya found herself flustered and at a loss for words, searching for an appropriate thing to say but failing to find one.

In the end, she acquiesced. "Okay.”

"Just give me a few days, I'll create something for you that will spark jealousy among all your friends. Even the bride.”

As you finished your coffee and exited the room, you picked up the sound of her voice uttering your name. She leaped from the couch with all the haste she could gather, bolting after you, her eyes ablaze with a fresh spark of hope.

"How do you do it?” She queried, her breath labored from the unexpected exertion.

You weren't entirely certain about the implication behind her question. “Do what?”

“You're always attentive and take everything to heart. Even when Maya did all those horrible things, you urged us to forgive her and uplifted our spirits.”

You quietly listened.

"How do you manage to be so compassionate in a world like this?”

You didn't require a moment's thought for that, as the answer was an innate response to you. Now, more than ever, you grasped the foundation of something you had always taken for granted, something that had been ingrained in your being since birth.

And for the first time, after many years of believing it to be your worst flaw that would bring nothing but disaster, you felt a wave of pride in possessing it.

Your smile broadened and your eyes shimmered under the soft lighting of the corridor. "It runs in the family.”

In the subsequent week, your inventive mind remained persistently active during your time at home, outside office hours. You functioned much like a machine at full throttle, failing to switch off, with only brief intermissions for meals or nightly rest. Serving as a maid for Alex Burgess had conditioned you for prolonged hours and demanding tasks. But now, your heart and mind were wholly immersed in the endeavor, and you found immense satisfaction in your accomplishments.

One night, you were so engrossed in your creation that you didn't notice Morpheus silently materializing behind you, moving with the stealth of a cat as he cautiously advanced towards your desk. He tuned into the sound of your pencil gliding across the paper with precision, observing how you swept your hair back and tucked it behind your ear, revealing a portion of your neck that he couldn't help but gaze at. He absorbed your occasional hums as you scrutinized your sketch, and the rhythm of your steady breathing that resonated directly with his heart.

When he softly murmured your name, in a low tone like a tender melody, you lifted your head and partially turned in your chair, discovering the King of Dreams standing near you, appearing contemplative and unsure.

The genuine happiness you felt upon seeing him reverberated throughout your room. "Hi!”

Morpheus pouted. As he typically did. Oh, how much you cherished that expression of his.

“You are not in bed.”

You shot him a puzzled glance. "Uh... no. Wait, what time is it?”

As you extended your hand to grasp your phone, unlocking the screen to inspect the LED, you emitted a startled gasp at the sight that greeted you. The white numbers at the top of the display glaringly read 3 AM.

How could you be so absorbed in what you were doing that you didn't even realize it was well past your bedtime?

"Sorry… I was distracted.”

You closed your sketchbook, pushing your chair back to stand up. Morpheus remained immobile, and as you rose to your full height, your lips came close to his.

“You were not in the Dreaming,” he murmured.

Although this wasn't his first time checking on you for burning the midnight oil, it was undeniably the longest you had kept awake in a considerable while. Knowing his worry about the possible repercussions for you, given his past experiences with Nada, a pang of guilt ebbed at you for not being more mindful.

"I know… I lost track of time. I'm getting ready now, promise. Could you wait for me?”

Morpheus nodded in agreement, but held his position without moving.

You brushed his cool fingers with your own, tenderly taking his hands into yours and placing a gentle kiss at the corner of his lips. As always, he softened at your touch, reciprocating your gesture and holding you tighter, his thumbs gently stroking your knuckles.

It was a repeated exchange to which you had become accustomed, but it never lost its charm. His scent, the paradoxical coolness and warmth he exuded, his voice, his mere presence. You craved all of it as much as the air you breathed.

"I'll see you in a bit," you announced, reluctantly releasing him and unzipping your hoodie. The moment you retreated to the bathroom, washing off your makeup, cleansing your face and slipping into the comfort of your nightgown, he had already vanished, evaporated, awaiting you in his realm.

The moment you sank into the mattress, turning off the light and being soothed by the softness of the covers, it was only a matter of minutes before sleep overtook you. You remembered those times when you failed to surrender to your fatigue, the insomnia that Morpheus' imprisonment had caused. It was all gone, nothing more than a distant memory, a story that you hoped no one would ever have to experience again.

You were eager to reunite with him, deep within the Dreaming. A world that felt like home.

When your eyes fluttered open, you found yourself still lying in your bed, your vision gradually adjusting to the darkness. The lights seeping in through the window began to illuminate parts of your room, but as you rolled over, something felt out of the ordinary.

You were unable to discern exactly what was wrong, as everything seemed to be positioned correctly. However, there was an indistinct fuzziness, a sensation of floating that left you questioning the authenticity of your wakefulness.

A dark silhouette emerged at the end of the bed, but before you could react with a heart-stopping scream, you quickly recognized Morpheus, watching you with a dignified posture. You held your breath, barely blinking, awaiting his next move or words.

Then, very quietly, he moved onto the mattress with the agility of a stealthy predator. Yet, you were far from feeling like a frightened prey.

You propped yourself up, the covers sliding down from your chest. "Am I dreaming?”

"You are," he responded, inching ever closer to your form, his right hand tracing the outline of your covered legs.

"You're not an illusion, are you?”

He offered you a faint smile. "No.”

“Good. I’d be disappointed otherwise.”

His hand reached the hem of the covers, shifting them down, further and further, until more of your body was exposed. The nightgown felt peculiarly warm, enveloping you like a cozy bath.

"I'm intrigued. Why choose this setting?”

"I wanted to offer you something more... familiar, for this occasion.”

You chuckled, biting your lower lip as you could already feel the arousal stirring within you. How could you lose your composure in such a way, just by watching his face inching closer to yours?

"And, what exactly is this occasion...?”

Morpheus looked intensely into your eyes, brimming with hunger and love for you.

"You desire me, Y/N," he revealed. "I can sense it.”

As much as you felt inclined to deny it, you realized just how fervently you needed to feel him against you. Given your work commitments and his responsibilities as the King of Dreams, the time you could allocate for each other was rather restricted, let alone for intimacy. Consequently, you were left to savor quick exchanges of affection that only intensified your craving for more.

It was truly maddening, but it couldn't be helped.

And in a way, it was somewhat exciting.

"I could claim that it's not true, but you're in my head right now," you stated, wearing a smile. "And quite frankly, I would never deny you.”

Morpheus moved closer, nudging you back against the mattress with a mere push of his fingers. Your body was under his enchantment, one that you didn't have the slightest wish to break.

"Please, allow me to attend to you.”

You swallowed, feeling your nightgown being lifted, its fabric brushing against your skin as it rolled up.

"What about you?”

"This is your dream," he replied. "All of this, is for you.”

His hands continued to guide the fabric upward until it reached your breasts, allowing it to rest just above your nipples, while he took in the sight of the rest of your body, completely bare, spread out before him like the most delectable of treats.

For a fleeting moment, you wondered about the whereabouts of your underwear, but you conjectured that he might have conveniently made it vanish. Regardless, you had no qualms about it.

“Morpheus-”

“Shh.”

His lips grazed your cheekbone, tracing a path along your jawline, chin, and down to your neck. You felt his middle and forefinger glide down your stomach, lightly tickling your navel and moving lower past your belly. You glanced down, admiring his long digits as they continued their exploration, but just when you anticipated they would venture directly to your sensitive center, they veered off course and moved towards your thigh.

Your breathing quickened, your heart pounded fiercely, and your legs instinctively parted for him when his hand encircled your knee. Your nipples were continuously rubbing against the nightgown, generating an exquisite friction between them and the silky material. His touch was tantalizing, deliberately slow and feather-light, escalating the tension you felt emanating from your core. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was executing it impeccably well. Never before had you imagined a lustful dream could be so satisfying.

At last, his fingers began to glide forward, and his other hand slipped under the nightgown to cradle the curve of your breast. The sensation you experienced when his thumb just barely swiped over your nipple was electrifying, but the way your body jerked, quivered, and twitched didn't seem to faze him in the least.

Even though your senses were considerably amplified in your dream state, your body had always been especially receptive to a man's touch. Morpheus had ceaselessly demonstrated that your pleasure was paramount above all else, and yet, it continued to feel incredibly mesmerizing. You couldn't tell if it was owing to his magical essence or an exceptional degree of restraint, but his consistent focus on giving rather than receiving was truly exceptional.

Your fingers gripped the bedsheets when he explored your labia, outlining its shape yet not fully delivering the pleasure you wanted. As his other thumb maintained its attentive caress on your nipple, your back curved gracefully. The sensations were so vivid and intense that you feared you might awaken prematurely, preventing the dream from reaching its climax and interrupting what Morpheus had initiated.

You let out a moan, a curse forming between your teeth as his fingers found your clit, establishing a steady, gentle rhythm that you thought would never suffice, but soon produced that familiar tingle that signaled it wouldn't take long for you to let loose. Even with the most tender of touches, with his fingers lightly stroking your clitoris up and down, sweetly, gently, Morpheus was offering you the universe.

Your legs parted even further, his long coat billowing out behind him, as if intending to enfold the two of you. He paused, guiding one finger towards your entrance, probing it gently to reach your delicate spot inside, akin to pressing a switch to light you up. Your pleasure escalated, not quite enough to trigger your orgasm, but sufficient to make your clit pulse and your whole body tremble in ecstasy. He remained so tranquil, so concentrated, so solemn and silent. You felt as though you were one of his masterpieces, sculpted like a work of art, the most exquisite of dream creatures under his guardianship.

He moved back to your hood, lifting it and stroking his moistened fingers over the sensitive bud underneath, yet again, without increasing his pace or exerting any substantial pressure.

The familiar feeling of satisfaction was approaching, teetering on the brink of release, but just barely eluding your grasp. You brought your hand to his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt, and moving to his collarbones. Your lips parted, silently pleading to be kissed, only to be instantly met by his own in a sensual and heated choreography.

The Moonstone pendant served as a beacon, enveloping both of you and your environment in its radiant blues and whites. It was so potent that tiny particles of light emanated from it, creating a protective halo around you.

"You're amazing," you confessed against his mouth. "Has anyone ever told you that?”

Morpheus seemed momentarily speechless, pausing his movements, but keeping his fingers connected to your core.

"That is not a word I have often heard used to describe me.”

Your head flopped back onto the pillow, feeling defeated. "Seriously, what's wrong with everyone?”

"You may be the first to see me as more than just the King of Nightmares.”

"Nightmares? What you’re giving to me right now is far from a nightmare.”

You kissed him again to emphasize your point, reaching for the hand that was securely cupping your breast. "You are Dream of The Endless. My Dream.”

He inhaled shakily as his eyes gleamed, and his fingers resumed their ministrations on your clit. Despite their touch maintaining a consistent tenderness, barely grazing your skin, the rhythm of his movements hastened. Processing it was unfeasible as the slick strokes rapidly kindled the sparks, triggering your orgasm to erupt beneath his fingertips. It surged up to the nipple he persistently stimulated, and dispersed into a serene state of bliss.

It might have been a dream, but it felt unequivocally spectacular.

He patiently waited for your pleasure to subside, and then, he retracted his hands from you. He grasped the wrinkled fabric of your nightgown, pulling it down, the creases miraculously straightening as it outlined the contours of your body.

Your haziness was intensifying, indicating that the Waking World was beginning to reclaim you. You resisted it, maintaining your focus on him as he observed you, clenching your hands into fists and drawing in a deep breath to anchor yourself.

You felt fulfilled, satisfied, and thoroughly cared for.

However, he did not.

Despite his desire to make everything solely about you, you couldn't accept it as fair. Therefore, you shifted yourself into a more vertical position, tugging the Endless towards you by his coat. This movement prompted him to position himself above you, taking care not to impose his entire weight on your smaller frame.

"Y/N-"

"Shh.”

This time, the roles were reversed, and it was you who hushed him to continue.

"I understand that you wanted this to be about me. But, despite it being my dream, we're still in your domain.”

You extended your hand towards the back of his neck, weaving your fingers through his short tresses. "I'm going to wake up soon, but before I do... let me give you something in return.”

You didn't wait for his reply. By the time he parted his lips, your hand was already making its way towards the button of his trousers.

He made no effort to stop you, allowing you to unfasten his garments, unveiling his eager arousal springing forth, ready and needy. How unfair would it be to leave him unattended, untouched, overlooked?

Morpheus was desperate for you, hungering for your touch.

Your nose brushed against his as you maintained your grip around his neck for support (and comfort), and your fingers promptly encircled the head of his member. His legs, straddling you, tensed and stiffened the moment you glided your hand down to the base, only to replicate the motion several more times. As much as it pained you, you couldn't afford the same level of tender and unhurried strokes. At any second, you could be thrust back into your real bed, and you didn't want to risk waking before he reached his own peak.

The way he groaned, so faintly, imperceptibly, holding himself back, was something you found incredibly appealing. You drew him even closer, accelerating your pace, ensuring that all his most sensitive regions were stimulated.

You continued your ministrations, increasing the speed, feeling the pull of the Waking World, akin to invisible ropes winding around you. You resisted once more, concentrating on the moist sounds your hand produced against his hardness, on his lips tenderly brushing yours as soft as a tender brush on a canvas.

You loved every single part of it.

And just when you thought you might not finish in time, that he would be left there alone, unsatisfied, forsaken in his desires, the perfect touch on his tense underside drove him to that delectable edge that you both longed for. His hips jerked forward repeatedly, his eyes clamped shut, his mouth letting out a few low grunts that intermingled with your breath.

In due course, your hand reduced its speed until it ceased entirely, but it remained connected to him as he softened. You gently scratched his scalp with your nails, playfully tousling his hair, and planted a kiss upon his forehead.

You released a joyful laugh when he curved his lips, looking absolutely content and thoroughly satisfied. You went on to pepper his face with even more kisses, whispering about your immense love for him, your fortune in having him, his talents in every possible way, and more.

It was the most delightful awakening you could ever wish for, a grin permanently etched at the corners of your lips as you left the Dreaming behind.

Freya was in absolute shock. She looked at the freshly tailored red dress laid out for her to see, designed specifically to her tastes and body size. Her eyes had sparkled with excitement when you showed her the initial sketch, but seeing her now, tears of joy streaming down her face, made you feel as though you'd accomplished an extraordinary feat. Unbeknownst to her, you had collaborated with the rest of your team to orchestrate this splendid surprise, with Ella's full backing.

You gently encouraged Freya to try the dress on, assuring her that only by wearing it could she appreciate the full beauty of the sophisticated design and velvety fabric. The moment she emerged from the restroom, you couldn’t believe your eyes. She was even more stunning than you had envisioned, making your own creation appear as if you were beholding it for the first time. The full-length sleeves and high neckline imparted the dress with a modest and elegant appearance, while the front opening tastefully showcased a generous portion of her cleavage. The lengthy gown gracefully traced her curves and swept the floor, and the slit on the right subtly revealed her leg.

She even let her voluminous hair down from the usual high bun she wore and touched up her lipstick, the high heels and earrings she selected that day appeared to be an impeccable match.

It was a day to be remembered, truly. The way she embraced and thanked you, as if you'd bestowed upon her the most anticipated reward. The confidence she exuded by agreeing to be photographed in the studio like a professional model, everyone thoroughly enjoying the occasion, showering praise and throwing a genuine party with drinks and snacks in her honor. All of this warmed your heart, filled you with happiness and fulfillment, and reaffirmed that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Eventually, Freya mustered the courage to send one of her photos to her bride-to-be friend. She expressed her desire to wear the new dress at the wedding, which understandably caused quite a stir. The woman was adamant that all the bridesmaids should be clad in identical outfits. If she couldn't procure the same dress for the others, then Freya wouldn't be permitted to wear something distinctive. You were afraid that this might dampen her spirits and ruin her good mood, but to your surprise, Freya resolved that if she couldn't wear your dress, she wouldn't attend the wedding at all.

You had crafted it solely for her. She was the only one who had the right to decide when and where to wear it. After the party, she chose to reserve it for the night of the show, using it as publicity for both the Corbyn&Jones brand and you.

"You know, Y/N, I think what you do is quite magical," she told you. "You might not even realize it, but you literally create dreams that have the power to transform others.”

“Really?”

“Of course! I mean, just by trying out this dress today, I feel like a completely different person.”

You found it paradoxical that you, of all people, were being described as someone capable of making dreams a reality.

"Let's just say that I have some good inspiration in my life," you confessed with a smile.

Freya lifted her glass, clinking it against yours in a friendly toast. "Well then. Cheers to your good influence and genius!”

The night of the show was a mere two days away. While everyone was busy preparing and setting things up at the designated location for the event, Ella beckoned you to her side, the printed lineup practically attached to her hand. She looked distinctly terrified, while Oliver was able to maintain a more composed demeanor despite his own nerves.

You'd be lying if you said that the impending occasion wasn't impacting you in a similar way.

"I know this is somewhat last minute, but one of our sponsors would like to meet you in person this afternoon.”

You furrowed your brow. "One of the sponsors? Why?”

"Oh, that might be my doing. I may have boasted about you a tad excessively.”

You shook your head in playful disbelief. "Seriously, Ella.”

"I know! But you are literally our leading figure. It's only a matter of time before more prominent people decide to make their move.”

"I'm just a designer, I'm not the one in charge.”

"Our sales have seen a significant increase these past few months, thanks to you. Come on, let me sing your praises.”

You chuckled. "Fine. When should I expect them?”

"You're scheduled to meet the sponsor in the main hall around 4pm.”

“Noted.”

Ella let out a squeal, which she attempted to suppress due to the many people around, hailing from different brands and sectors.

"I'm genuinely proud of you. You truly deserve all the success that's coming your way.”

“Honestly, Ella, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your call.”

"And I wouldn't have called if it weren't for your email. It's funny how life works, isn't it?”

You found yourself nodding with conviction, reflecting on all the remarkable things, whether challenging or rewarding, that had entered your life since you left the Burgess mansion.

Since you encountered Dream of the Endless. Your beloved Morpheus.

If only you had known that the person you were about to meet wasn't who you expected them to be.

By the time you made your way to the main hall, Ella had returned to the office to finalize the remaining details with Oliver. You had been constantly active all morning, barely managing to squeeze in time for an outdoor lunch, arranging the garments for the presentation, and refining the lineup. You were on the brink of being tardy for the appointment, and you left the backrooms in such a rush that you unintentionally left your phone behind.

Casting a quick glance around the luxurious space, you cleared your throat and adjusted your hair to ensure you looked presentable. You didn't spot anyone who seemed to be waiting, so you opted to sit on one of the vacant couches, taking a moment to observe your surroundings.

You found yourself completely zoned out, watching the staff bustling about and your competitors occasionally strolling past, until a voice jolted you from your trance.

"Why, hello there. You must be Y/N Y/LN.”

You raised your gaze to encounter a distinctive figure standing in front of you. They were attired in a white suit, which exposed a portion of their chest and highlighted an oval pendant suspended from a lengthy silver chain. Their blonde hair was flawlessly slicked back, a pair of round earrings graced their ears, and red lipstick accentuated what seemed to be a sincere, yet cryptic smile.

But what truly captivated you was the color of their eyes, which you couldn't pinpoint due to the lighting making them gleam gold.

"Oh, uh, yes. That's me," you stammered.

Their smile broadened. “It's quite a pleasure to meet you in person.”

Their voice was smooth, calm, and suave.

"Likewise," you responded, sitting up straighter and adopting a more professional tone.

"Do you mind if I join you?" They asked, gesturing towards the empty space on the couch beside you.

"Not at all, please have a seat.”

There was something inexplicably peculiar about this sponsor. They settled themselves next to you, a tad too close for your liking, you might add. Aiming not to appear overly nervous, you swiftly collected yourself and returned their smile.

"I'm surprised that you wanted to meet. Do you have any specific questions you'd like to ask me?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. You could say that I'm interested in your... desires.”

You required a moment to process their words.

"My desires...?”

"Look where you are," they declared, sweeping their impeccably manicured hand to indicate the place. "This must be like a dream come true for you, isn't it?”

You had the distinct feeling that they found this thought amusing, leaving you uncertain about whether they were mocking you or not.

"Well, yes. It certainly is. I've worked really hard to reach this point," you affirmed.

"And yet, I can see that you're still searching for something.”

What were they even hinting at?

"There's always scope for improvement," you elucidated. "I may have come a long way in this industry, but that doesn't mean I can't continue to learn as I progress.”

"Is that what you desire? Greater wealth and recognition?”

You were uncertain whether they were attempting to carry out an unconventional interview, or if their words held some concealed subtext. Was this genuinely the sponsor Ella had spoken to you about?

For a moment, a fear gripped you that you might have encountered the wrong person entirely, perhaps someone dispatched by your competitors to probe and expose your vulnerabilities. But as you threw a cursory look around the hall, you didn't notice anyone else seeking you out.

"I wouldn't say that, no. I engage in what I do because I love creating something that empowers the wearer to feel comfortable in their own skin."

They hummed in ponderation. "Well, I guess that's not too far off from what I do.”

“What is it that you do?”

"My dear, I am in search of individuals who are just like you, drawn to those objects of their desire like a butterfly to a candle's flame.”

That was quite an enigmatic and poetic way to respond. You inferred that as a sponsor, they were particularly discerning about the brand and company they decided to invest in. Possibly, as the one fundamentally in control of the main collections of Corby&Jones, they aimed to painstakingly scrutinize your intentions and authenticity.

It was entirely plausible, all things considered. Yet, there was an odd element that was making you feel uneasy.

“So tell me then, what is it that you want? Don't be shy. Or perhaps I should try to guess?”

Alarm bells started sounding in your mind the moment they edged even closer, their fingers lightly sweeping your hair away from your face.

“You want something sensual, or maybe something precious. Or... maybe someone special. Or maybe you want all three. Yes, I think that might just be the case. ”

The last thing you wanted was for your company to lose one of its most significant sponsors, but your patience was already stretched thin and you could not bear any more of it.

Sporting a nervous chuckle, you cautiously lifted your hand to gently move theirs away as diplomatically as you could, using your left leg to redistribute your weight and subtly distance yourself a bit further from them.

"I’m sorry, but I'm afraid your guess is inaccurate.”

“Is that so?”

"I have a boyfriend. I have no need to seek anything or anyone else, as I've already attained everything I've ever wished for.”

You could almost swear their expression transformed into a blend of disappointment and annoyance, even though they managed to somewhat retain their smile.

"Well, that's unfortunate," they proclaimed. "But you see, all humans are creatures of desire, twisting and bending to their whims.”

You were still unable to understand what all of that was about. Regardless of their motive, you had no interest in discerning it.

"I wouldn't want to come off as rude, but I really need to return to my work. Is there any particular matter you wanted to discuss with me?”

Your attempt to abruptly terminate the conversation and depart clearly took them by surprise, as you noticed them purse their red lips and squint their eyes to scrutinize you. The longer you gazed into those irises, the more the notion strengthened that they were indeed gold. But such an eye color was improbable for a human, wasn't it…?

Eventually, they reverted to their initial politeness. "But of course. I was merely curious to finally meet the famous Y/N Y/LN. Go ahead, continue with your work. I won't hold you here.”

With a simple nod of your head, you excused yourself, standing up from the couch and offering your hand in a professional manner, which they accepted. Their grip was firm, warm, and oddly comforting, yet at the same time, a chill ran through your entire body.

What you experienced in that moment was truly bizarre. A part of you felt as though you knew them, or at least, there was a familiarity in their presence that echoed Morpheus and Teleute. A distant voice in your head reassured you that there was no need for fear, that they could calm your spirit and provide the most exhilarating ride you could ever imagine.

And it terrified you.

The instant they released you, you practically dashed off, fumbling in your pocket for your phone to give Ella a piece of your mind about the situation, only to discover that you didn't have the device with you.

And you were oblivious to the way they continued to gaze at you until you were out of sight, narrowing their eyes and resting their fingers on their chin in profound thought.

"My, what a fascinating mortal being,” they commented with a broad grin, before releasing a prolonged, amused laugh through their perfectly white teeth.

The moment you reentered the backrooms, Freya hailed you and advanced with a brisk stride, extending her hand that was gripping your phone. "I found it on the table next to me. Ella sent you a message, I noticed her name flashing on the screen.”

Speak of the Devil…

"Thanks, Freya. I'll check it right away. I'll be back in a minute.”

She nodded in recognition and gave you a thumbs-up, before resuming her task of arranging the chosen outfits on their corresponding hangers.

You unlocked the screen and navigated straight to your friend's chat, freezing in place as soon as you read her message.

You could feel your blood chilling as you recognized that the person you had just interacted with was, in fact, not the one you were initially supposed to meet. You had found them strange, slightly ethereal even, but overall suitable for that specific setting, notwithstanding their flirtatious conduct.

And now, staring in utter disbelief at your phone screen, you could only conjecture about their real identity, how they knew your name, and most importantly, why they were there for you.

The only logical explanation you could arrive at was your initial assumption about a competitor sending one of their own, but you couldn't dismiss that nagging feeling in your gut that they were someone, or perhaps even something, entirely distinct.

Without a moment's hesitation, you tucked your phone into your pocket and sprinted for the main hall, hoping to still find them there and obtain an explanation. Regrettably, they were nowhere to be seen, as you couldn't spot their elegant attire, blonde hair, or golden eyes.

You came to the realization that they hadn't even introduced themselves to you. You had no name to associate with them, no concrete information about their profession or location whatsoever. You were left without any leads, while they appeared to have a clear understanding of who you were. Could you possibly be dealing with an admirer who had infiltrated the showroom solely to see you?

In the end, all you could do was return to your responsibilities and let the matter slide, even though it certainly nagged at you for the remainder of the day.

With all arrangements for the imminent show complete, Ella and Oliver gave their team a well-deserved day off before the grand event, ensuring that everyone could rejuvenate and approach the coming day with renewed energy. Capitalizing on this chance, you planned another visit to your father, as time with him had been scant since the revelation about your mother. The last time you awoke from the Dreaming, he implied there was something he wished to talk about, but assured you it wasn't pressing and could be postponed.

However, as soon as he opened the door to greet you, it was evident that something about him was off again. He appeared hesitant, leaving you lingering at the entrance without fully inviting you in, his countenance displaying unease.

"Dad? What's wrong? Can I come in or are we planning to have lunch here on your doorstep?”

He exhaled deeply, shifting his gaze towards something in the living room. "No, it's just.... there's someone here.”

"Oh... a guest? Would you prefer if I came back next week?”

"No, no, there's no need for that," he paused. "Actually... they're here for you.”

You attempted to conjure a mental image of who they might be. "Huh...?”

At last, he moved aside to let you in, closing the door behind you and assisting you with your jacket. But before you could proceed further, he gently grasped your arm and placed both his hands on your shoulders.

"Y/N, I didn't plan this. Whatever happens, know that I will understand if you decide to leave.”

“Dad, seriously. What’s going on here?”

Reflecting back, you should have realized that there was only one person who would potentially want to converse with you. You had barely interacted with his friends a few times, and he was the sole family you had left. There was no one else who would wish to see you in his house.

Except for someone you believed would never be allowed to come near the two of you, ever again.

When he remained silent, lowering his gaze, you pivoted and ventured into the living room. There, you noticed a woman stationed by the window, her eyes fixed outside, responding to your entrance with a slight flinch.

You couldn't instantly recognize her, but as she slowly swiveled around to face you, your heart abruptly stopped. You found yourself staring at the woman from your dream, the memory that Morpheus had transferred from your father's mind into yours. She nervously fiddled with her thumbs while clasping her hands over her lap, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly to clear her tear-filled eyes.

You felt a dizzy spell coming on, unable to react, as your father slowly moved to stand beside you, nervously anticipating some sort of response from you.

And then it came, your voice shaky, trembling, emerging as a whisper. "Mum....?"

Upon hearing that, she managed a smile in your direction, summoning the courage to take a step towards you. "Hello, Y/N.”

You began to hyperventilate, your ears filled with a loud ringing noise and a dreadful wave of nausea started to swell within you. She repeated your name, but it became inaudible. Her lips were moving, yet no sound was perceptible, as the unbearable ringing in your ears drowned everything else out.

You had reconciled with that she would only exist as a faint echo in the background of your existence, a distant figure you'd never have a chance to see or converse with. Caught completely off guard, you found yourself in her presence for the first time, a moment you had yearned for since your childhood years.

And you were petrified, completely paralyzed with fear.

Your father gently prodded you, trying to elicit a proper reaction that stubbornly refused to surface. Your breathing grew rapid and strained as you struggled to supply enough oxygen to your brain.

Until everything descended into darkness.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 16 (coming soon) ->

#the sandman #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman writing

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