#sandman x female read
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enter sandman - m. murdock
a/n: see me personally? never seeing the pearly gates. never ever. not after this one . enjoy. feedback always appreciated ! <3
warnings: guys... where do i fucking start. SMUT. SMUT!!!! GRAPHIC PORN!!!! no plot!!!! degradation!!! dumbification!!!! praise!!!! oral!!! (m recieving) cursing!!!! nicknames!!!! reader is female and has female parts and she/her pronouns!!!!! matt is cocky, mean!dom!matt, the ending is kind of cute, lots of inappropriate use of matts senses, uhhh guys let me know if i missed any because... wow.
word count: 4.2k
summary: you have a hard time sleeping. the devil has a few games in mind to tire you out.
pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader
now playing: enter sandman - metallica
"exit light/enter night/take my hand/we're off to never-never land"
You have a horrible habit. Okay, you wouldn’t really consider it to be a habit per say, but you’re not proud of it. You will for it to end.
You can never seem to fall asleep. Staying asleep is easy, but getting there is a problem. Your mind is always racing, which causes you to spiral into a whirlpool of anxieties. You’re too busy thinking about your job, or what you’ll eat tomorrow, or when you’ll be doing your next load of laundry.
But most of all, what keeps you up at night is worrying about the devil. And not in the sense that you’re a holy catholic who wants to repent for her sins, either. Your worry for the devil comes because you’re hopelessly in love with him.
And you worry that one day he will come home damaged beyond repair. Maybe one day he will not come home at all, and you’ll have to hear about it on the news the next morning. It’s a hellish existence, loving the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but you make do.
Like tonight—You had baked brownies earlier in the night, and then read your book for the better part of the night. You won’t allow yourself to fall asleep because the possibility of seeing him overwhelms you. But as the hours pass, you begin to lose hope.
And just as you you’re beginning to accept that he won’t be coming to see you and you’re really letting yourself drift, you feel a warm hand on your neck. He’s taken his gloves off tonight. You consider yourself blessed.
“Hi,” You mumble softly, your brain going all fuzzy with even just that bit of contact. You’ve missed him. “Was beginning to think you’d never show.”
But your devil is in no mood for simple pleasantries tonight.
“What have I told you about waiting up for me?”
“Not to?”
“I said,” His hand moves from its gentle place against your neck to grip your chin, “As long as you leave the window open I’ll know to just come in and take what I need.”
Your face flushes, and he grins, because he can tell that he’s making you flustered.
“Stop laughing at me.”
“No one’s laughing at you, sweetheart.” He hums.
“You are.” He shrugs gently. He’s wearing his black suit tonight, and it’s making you feel… a lot of things.
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Damn him.
“Nothing!”
He leans forward and kisses you softly, and you lean up to try and kiss him further, but he pulls away, his grip returning to your chin, to keep you just centimeters away. The devil is an expert at reading you, despite his lack of sight. He has developed the habit of studying you, and knows that as of late, you’re not allowing yourself the pleasure of sleeping. He knows it’s because you’re so anxious and worried about every little thing, so tonight.. He intends to fix it. Or at least, maybe come up with a temporary solution.
“Liar.” He whispers and moves away further. “I’m not going to touch you until you tell me.”
Your devil is many things, but he does not bluff. He has this will of steel.
“I prefer it when you wear the black suit,” You tell him, “It’s not very protective, I know. But you look good in it.”
He makes a noise of realization, before moving his hand to slip under the hem of your shirt, resting his hand on your stomach. You shiver a bit, his hand warm against your skin. That’s what you get for wearing a tee shirt and shorts to bed every night, he’d tell you.
“That’s my smart girl.” Your heart flutters. “Mm, you really like that huh?”
“You’re awful.” You always pretend to hate how he reads you, but secretly, although you suspect he knows it, you love that someone knows you so well. He grins and his hands move again, this time picking you up into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. “Hey! Not cool, we talked about picking up when we have no warning—” You cut yourself off with a grunt when he tosses you onto the bed.
“Shut up.”
He hears no objections.
Just as quickly as you’re thrown on the bed, he is above you, mask still on, kissing your neck.
“Wanna play a game, sweetheart?” He asks, hands on your hips, his fingers creeping up the hem of your shirt. You shiver again, and he just grins “You can answer.”
“Sure. I like games.” Your voice is meek, too busy enjoying all the contact with him. He hums softly.
“I know you do, and you’re just so good at them.” You grin against his skin as he kisses your cheek. “See that? That’s what I want to know.” You’re a bit lost.
“Know what?”
“I want to know what turns you on more— praising you or degrading you.”
What a fun game to play with a human lie detector.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay, let’s play.” You confirm. He kisses you quickly.
“Good girl.” You hum softly, but it isn’t quite what he’s looking for. It’s good, don’t get him wrong, but he’s after more. “Tell me about your day, baby.” He continues to plant kisses along your skin. You know this isn’t a request but rather a requirement of the game.
“Well, I had work today, then I had to stop at the grocery store. I made dinner and—” You’re cut off by a kiss to a sensitive spot on your neck, because you can’t help but let out a gasp of pleasure.
“What? A few kisses and you’re already turning dumb for me?” You shudder softly, your heartbeat steadily increasing. The deep cadence of his voice paired with his words make you want to just melt. “Oh, there she is..”
He lets go of your arms for just a moment to slip your shirt off. Then, your hands are back above your head, held down by his grip. He moves on from your neck and begins to kiss down.
“I like this game.” You manage out, and he chuckles.
“I know you do. You know how?”
You think about it for a moment before you answer. You want to be right.
“You can hear my heartbeat?”
“And I can smell you. You like this a lot. More than you like me?” He continues to kiss down your torso.
You don’t answer for a second. He bites your skin gently, prompting you to answer.
“No.” You answer, “No, I don’t like anything.. anyone more than you.”
He kisses the spot where he bit softly.
“Even smart girls need to be reminded sometimes.” Is all he says before he continues to kiss you. You try to hide it, try to hide your reaction to the words, but he grins against your skin.
“Matt..” you groan out softly because his kisses have stopped.
“What?”
“Why’d you stop?” You whined.
“You’re my smart girl, why don’t you tell me?” You pause, biting your lip. “Is it because you can’t? Do you like being dumb for me, smart girl?” You want to defend yourself, but he bites your skin again.
“Yes!” you respond, and he does the same thing he did before—He kisses where he bit.
“Good girl.” He responds. “I like making you dumb just from a few kisses anyways.” He tells you, finally reaching your stomach with his kisses. “I love my dumb little smart girl.” The cadence he has to his voice makes you whine again. He knows every part of you, even the parts you never wanted to tell him about. He’s just too observant. “I love that despite how well behaved and good you are, you’re dumb enough to be talked down to like this, by some strange man who just crawled through your window.”
You answer before you can think about it. You’re smart enough to know that he’s at least half right.
“You’re not just anyone, you’re my Matt.”
“Your Matt?” He hums. “Your Matt, My ditzy smart girl.” He grins, before placing one last kiss right above the waistline of your shorts.
He moves so he can kiss your lips again, kissing you quick before pulling off his mask so you can see his face. He has a cut on his forehead and a bruise forming on his cheek. It’s clear he had a good night though, or else this wouldn’t be happening.
“Your face..” You frown, concern in your voice.
“Observant and smart?” He teases, kissing your forehead. “What happened to wanting to be dumb for me?”
You’re almost embarrassed of it now.
“You’re being mean.” You say quietly.
“Mean? Me? To my best girl?” He kisses you quickly again. “Never.” He hums. One of his hands goes down to your thigh, his fingertips inching up.
“Never.” You echo.
“What do you say, smart girl?” He asks, “Wanna play a few more games? See just how desperate I can make you?”
You huff at his words, your brain short circuiting to the point where you speak before you can really think.
“I just want you to fuck me!”
He stops just as he’s about to pull off your shorts and slithers back up so the pair of you are face to face.
“First of all,” he places a kiss to your lips gently, “You are not in a position to be making demands, pretty girl. Second,” He kisses you again, “Such a foul mouth for such a dumb baby,” You let off a soft whine, and he has the audacity to mock your whine, “I know, it’s not much of a lecture when you like when I talk to you like this,” He hums. “And third, I know you’re smarter than to be a brat.” He says gently, kissing you again.
“I’m not a brat.” You whine, and again, he mocks you before devolving into a deep chuckle, leaning in to kiss you.
“I love you.” He says, with a grin on his face.
He’s gentle with you for a few moments, softer. You decide that now is your chance, and if you don’t act now, you’ll spend the rest of your night under his thumb. So, you flip over and have him under you, as you sit on his lower stomach. His hands come up to the back of your thighs.
“I’ve got you now, Devil.” You grin, leaning in to kiss him. But before you can, he’s flipping you back over, keeping you pinned by your legs.
“Brat.” he accuses, leaning in to kiss you again. You huff. “Easy, pretty girl, your attitude is getting the best of you.”
You frown and turn your head when he goes to kiss you.
“Tell me I’m not a brat and I’ll kiss you.” You demand, and he grins, but this time it isn’t soft. It’s almost wicked. He grabs your chin roughly and tilts your head towards him, before kissing you roughly.
“What did I tell you?” he asks. “Come on, smart girl, I know you remember.”
“That I was in no position to make demands?”
“That’s right.” He coos, “Now, baby, do you want to hear what I had planned for you tonight?”
You must admit, you’re very curious.
“Sure, Matty.” His grin widens.
“Well, I was planning on playing this little game with you, then eating you out until your thighs are shaking,” You let out a whine, but he just shushes you softly, “Sh, sh, sh… You wanted to hear, so listen.” He hums. “Then, I was going to fuck you until you were full of my cum.” He tells you.
Then, he lets out a disappointed sigh.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“That was what I was planning on, but because you decided to be a brat, I have a new plan.”
“I liked that plan so much though..”
“I know, Sweetheart, me too.. But you’re the one who ruined it.” He reminded, leaning in, and biting your jaw between his fingers. His hand positioning is not exactly choking, but the grip is tight enough to leave marks. He feels you grind your hips up a bit, and chuckles again. “Smart girl, already figuring out what’s next.”
You tilt your head in confusion, but before you know it, he’s repositioning you so you’re in his lap at the edge of the bed. He pats your thigh gently.
“Get up for me, Honey. Then you got to take your shorts off for me.” You do as you’re told, no longer interested in fucking up his plans. Then, he pulls you back onto his lap, and he hums gently. You decide to take a risk and bring your hands up to his jaw, and then up towards his mask.
“Please?” You ask gently. “Wanna see you..” He nods softly, letting you pull off his mask, as his head tilts to the side to kiss your palm.
“You remember who’s in charge, right, sweetheart?”
“You, devil.”
“That’s right, angel.” He praises, “And that’s why you’re going to ride my thigh.” You let out a soft whine, and he shakes his head, “No, no whining from you, sweet girl. You wanted to be a brat, so you gotta reap what you sew.”
He holds your hips as you begin to grind against his thigh, and Matt focuses on the way your breathing hitches as you rub against his thigh. Your hands grip his shoulders as he begins to kiss your neck again.
Your skin burns with need, and your hips roll faster as your breath speeds up, and slowly, minute by minute, you’re edging closer to your release. But he knows you’re close to coming undone not only because of how your skin is hot, and your breath is airy, but because you’re making such a mess.
You’re definitely staining his pant leg with your wetness, because after his insatiable teasing, you’re just desperate for him, and oh so sensitive. The speed of your grinding increases, and then, because he wants to see you break, he starts to bounce his leg up so that in addition to your grinding, it’s overwhelming you.
“Matt,” you say, breathlessly. “Matt, please..”
“Please what, smart girl? What do you want?” He’s really going to make you ask for it. This is all part of his game.
“Please..” You start, resting your head on his shoulder. “Please, can I come?”
“What was that, baby? I didn’t hear you.”
Oh, now he’s being a fucking dick. You know he can hear you, with his damned super senses. Nonetheless, you pick your head up and manage to get it out.
“Please let me come,” You beg, and he laughs.
“You know what’s funny, baby?” You let out a whine. “You’re so smart, always holding the world on your shoulders, and yet.. A little bit of teasing and riding my thigh, and you can barely get a sentence out.. You’re being so good for me, baby. So good at following orders,” He bites your neck. “So, go ahead and come for me, sweet girl.”
As soon as those words leave his lips, you’re letting go, the tight knot in your stomach finally snapping. You moan into his ear, his hands on your side to keep you stable as you come undone. He keeps bouncing his leg to have you ride out your high as your legs begin to shake. You’re making all of these pretty noises for him, and the smell of your juices are overwhelming for him.
“Such a good girl for me,” he hums, kissing you softly. He’s back to being rather gentle with you. But his cock is incredibly hard against his pants, and he needs to feel you clench around him. “Can my pretty baby ride my cock?” You’re shaking but you nod gently.
He knows you’re verging on the edge of being unable to do much else, but he wants to see how far he can push you. So, he pats your leg again and you stand up. His hands come up to undo your bra and pull off your panties.
He holds them in his hands for a moment, breathing in deeply as your scent continues to overwhelm him. He wastes no more time, pulling off his shirt and then starting to unbuckle his black pants. On instinct, you’re on your knees, with this.. primal desire to suck him off.
He takes a deep breath, his hand going to your hair and pushing your hair from your face. You lean into his touch, smiling softly up at him. He knows how much you like just thoughtless sex—You value long, intimate nights too, but after a long week, you need to shut off your brain and he needs to take control.
“Wanna suck my cock first, baby? You’re so good for me..” He says softly, slipping down his boxers.
“Just wanna be good for you,” You hum, eying his glistening hardness. You can’t deny that he looks truly crafted by the hands of God—Most of his body is glistening with sweat, cock glistening with precum. He is heavenly and the only thing you’ll ever want to worship.
“You’re so good for me. My dumb little smart girl.” The name form earlier makes you weak, as you lean in and begin to lick his tip. His hand grips your hair as he inhales sharply. “Careful, sweetheart.” He tells you, beginning to guide you in sucking him dry.
His hand guides you as your head bobs against his cock, the taste of him turning your brain further into mush. He makes sure to guide you at a steady pace, moaning out praise, and occasionally degradation.
“So fucking good for me,” He gasps out, “My good little girl.. Sucking my cock so good—Ah, fuck..” He gasps as you quicken your pace. “Sucking me like the little slut you are..” You moan against cock at that, and he gasps, before it devolves into a low chuckle. “And you like it, too.. Being called my little slut.. Good little slut, just for me.. Got you trained so well..” He holds on for a few more moments before he comes into your mouth, panting softly.
His cum dribbles down your chin as you swallow most of it, so his hand comes up to your chin to gently wipe the dribble off before he slips his thumb into your mouth.
“Every last drop for me, angel.” He requests. You happily suck on his thumb for a few moments while he recovers. Then, he leans down and picks you up, resting you on the bed again. “Now you’re gonna ride me, right, pretty?”
“Mhm..” You smile, and as soon as he lays back on the bed, you’re on top of him. His cock slides against your folds and you whine a bit, just desperate for the feeling of him filling you up. “You know how badly I want your cock..” He grins at this.
“You have it, angel. Just gotta ride me, okay?” You hum in response. You slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, taking a few minutes to adjust to the size of him. But your slow pace is not quick enough for Matt, whose hands find your hips (for the millionth time tonight) and quickly slides his entire length into you.
You moan loudly, a feeling of pain and pleasure blurring together as he hits just the right spot to make you see stars.
“Matt, fuck,” You whine, wanting to take a second to catch your breath.
“Color?” It’s a safe word system—He knows he might have taken it a tad too far, pushing into you like that.
“Green,” You promise.
“Okay, good.” He leans up and kisses your forehead gently, a sign of the gentleness that resides in his demeanor despite just how into his dominate behavior you are. He begins to roll his hips, and revels in the sound of the pretty screams coming out of your mouth as he begins to pound into you. “I’ve got you fucked dumb, baby? Can’t even ride my cock properly?” He asks, pulling you in to kiss your skin.
“No,” You protest, “I can do it,” It comes out whinier than you wanted it to—Much whinier, but you can’t deny that he’s wrong about that first part. Your brain is blurry in the best way. He hums in approval before gently pushing you away from his lips.
“Prove it, then.” He demands, and his hips are no longer bucking into you. Instead, you shakily begin to bounce against his cock, using his moans and gasps as guidance. His hands grip your thighs as you ride him. “There you go, angel. It’s not too much for you, right?” He hums.
“No!” You protest again, “No, Sir, I can take it,” He grins at the slip of the title. He swats the side of your thigh, rubbing it softly after you yelp, but it quickens your pace. His brain is beginning to fog too, so he knows he wants to get a few more comments out.
“Fucking liar,” he laughs, “Even when your.. fuck..” He gasps, the feeling of you clenching around him overwhelming him. “When you’re bouncing on my cock and moaning for me, you’re still lying..” His one hand travels to play with your clit, rubbing small circles into it. “So,” He takes a deep breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder, before picking his head back up. “I’ll ask you again.. Is it too much for you, my ditzy girl?”
Tears prick your eyes, as you will your brain to come up with a comprehensive answer.
“Yes!” You admit, “it’s too much,” You pant, but because you don’t say ‘red’ he keeps going.
“Aw, I know, honey,” He plants a soft kiss to your lips, the hand that isn’t rubbing circles into your clit coming up to brush sweaty hair from your face. “But you can take it. Come on, sweet thing, I know..” He hums. “Come for me, baby..”
And you do—You come hard, your vision going white for a fraction of a second as you let out these angelic noises. He doesn’t give a damn about noise complaints right now, all he can focus on is the smell of your sweat, your cum, and your pretty little noises.
You continue to rock your hips, wanting to feel his cum fill you up. And after a few more minutes, your wish comes true, as he grips your hip tightly with one hand as he comes deep inside you, as you roll your hips just a few more times, riding the last waves of a euphoric high.
His chest is heaving as you slump down against his chest. The pair of you are sweating, but he still looks so beautiful like this. His cock still fills you, his cum deep within you. His hand gently runs up and down your back,
“How’s my sweet girl doing..?” He’s afraid he went too far with you, hoping his words didn’t push you into a bad headspace. It’s happened before, where you just needed time to come back to reality. But tonight, you’re exhausted in a whole new way. You’re happy that you’ll actually be able to sleep.
“I’m good,” You promise. You’re sweaty, out of breath and completely fucked out of your mind.
He takes your jaw in his hand and tilts your head up so you’re looking in his general direction.
“You know I don’t really think you’re dumb, right?” He just needs to make sure.
“I know,” You giggle, “But it’s pretty hot in the moment. Besides, you took care of me.”
He grins and kisses your forehead.
“I’ll always take care of you.” He promises. You know he means it, too. Your Matty, always taking care of you. “You know you don’t need to worry about everything, right? You don’t have to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“I know,” You start, “But you’re always so busy with the firm, and being Daredevil, and—” He hushes you softly.
“I am never too busy for you.” He says gently. “I know I can’t do your job for you, but I can be more careful and help with dinner, you know.” He just wants you to be less stressed all the time, the hypocrite.
“Okay.” You say gently. “Thank you, Matt.” He holds you close and places a soft kiss to your head.
“You’re still shaking,” He says gently, “But you need to shower.” He says softly, moving now so that he can carry you to your bathroom. You whine at the feeling of emptiness you’re left with when he slides out of you, and he just laughs. “I know, Baby, I know.”
Matt is just a general fan of taking care of you. Even when you’re fucked out of your mind like you are right now. You love that about him.
You love that the devil is so devoted to you. It stirs something deep inside you that you can’t quite voice. Matt knows it, too.
#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock x you#daredevil fic#daredevil#matt murdock fic#matt murdock fluff#daredevil fanfiction#matt murdock smut#dom!matt murdock#marvel smut#rough kink#never seeing the pearly gates#no plot
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Nocturne
Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader
Summary: Miguel wakes you in the middle of the night to fulfill your arrangement.
Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit, NSFW, Wake-Up Sex, Kissing, Biting, Scratching, Miguel's Fangs, Miguel's Claws, Blood Drinking, Groping, Fondling, Caressing, Teasing, Taunting, Miguel Ripping Your Panties in Half, Vaginal Sex, Doggy Style, Female Orgasm, *Bonus points if you catch the Sting reference*
Word Count: 1.6K+
Read my other MIGUEL stories!
You always feel him before anything else; before you can hear his footsteps bend the hardwood of your floorboards into a whiny creak, before he whispers your name longingly into your ear as he crawls into your bed, slipping beneath the sheets. He’s always careful not to stir you from your slumber too abruptly, crossing over that threshold of the waking world and into the hazy realm of your dreams with relative ease.
He first appears as tall stalks of grain in fields of gold beneath your fingertips, as wispy branches dangling from the tops of willow trees, surrounding your face and arms with soft, delicate touches. Those leaves gently lay themselves across your shoulders, pleating around your upper body as they pull you in closer to the aged tree trunk, slowly growing in warmth. The smell of his sweat and the heat of his breath eventually signals you to his presence beyond the sandman’s grasp, the kisses he plants onto your neck tenderly waking you as the trees begin to fade out of sight.
“Mmm, you’re late,” you mumble as your eyes flutter open, the blurry green numbers of your alarm clock showing three thirty in the morning.
“Am I?” He slides his hand beneath your shirt, tickling the skin on your torso like those dreamy willow branches before cupping your breast with his palm. “I ran into some trouble, but I can make it up to you,” he kisses his excuses into the nape of your neck, taking your nipple between his fingers and pinching to get a quick moan from your lips. “I promise.”
“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage in response, his targeted handiwork distracting you from his tardiness as he pinches even harder, forcing your breath to quicken.
“What were you dreaming about anyways, huh?” He twists your nipple toward him, grinding his hips against your backside as his bare arousal grows between your cheeks, getting your body good and ready for what he has in mind, for what he always comes here for.
“All kinds of things,” you whisper, his erection more than prominent against your underwear as you instinctively rock back into him, your own moisture collecting between your folds as his kisses only get deeper.
“Oh yeah?” He lifts his knee between your legs, shifting his weight onto your hips with a quickness that forces you onto your stomach, keeping you right where he wants you. “Anything like this?”
The weight of his massive body resting on your lower back nearly forces the air out of your lungs as both of his hands graze over the gooseflesh cascading it’s way down your spine. Like a blind man reading braille for the very first time, he palpates every bump, studies every raised hair on your skin as if committing it to memory before slowly pushing the fabric of your t-shirt up above your shoulders. He waits for you to fully acclimate to the sensation of him laying on top of you before tickling the tiny spaces between your ribs just enough to get you to shiver and tense back up.
“Arms up, baby, you know the drill.”
Too drowsy to make any quippy retorts for your usual snarky banter, you follow his command and lift your arms above your head. You let your eyelids fall shut again as he disrobes you at an agonizing pace, peeling your sleeves off your biceps and forearms as he playfully nips at your shoulders and neck along the way. He takes his time massaging the muscles in your hands as your collar passes over your head, finally pulling your shirt from your fingers before silently dropping it onto the floor.
“You’re almost all healed up from last time,” he notices as he kisses his way back up your arm, sucking on the yellowing bruise he’d left on your shoulder just last week. “It’s like I was never even here.” He sits up and leans backward, slowly dragging his claws down the length of your torso just deep enough to leave tiny trails of white, disrupted skin in their wake. “Looks like I gotta fix that.”
Your back arches instinctively as the cool air of your bedroom shocks your nervous system, stinging your freshly exposed skin as you inhale with a quick hiss. You try not to writhe beneath him as the pain trickles down through each layer of your skin, settling into a deep somatic ache in its futile attempt to soothe your now reddened flesh.
“Nice and open for me now, huh?” You hear the fabric of your underwear being split down the middle before he mercilessly rips it apart, each thread separating in sequential succession before it falls to shreds around your hips. Another hiss from you turns into a high-pitched gasp, his expanding audacity almost making you regret your unspoken arrangement with him to trade your blood for sex.
Almost.
You hear him laugh in sheer delight before you feel him glide down across your folds as he wastes no time thrusting against you. You can feel him pause to grab hold of himself at the base, barely brushing over your swollen bud as he spreads your juices up and down your length, refusing to acknowledge the wounds he just created. “Where should we start this time, eh, cariño?”
“Miguel,” you plead, lifting your hips up to meet him just in time for him to pull back with another confident chuckle. “Miggy, please, I’m so tired.”
“Oh, you’re tired? Hmmm?” He taunts, playfully slapping the head of his cock against your ass as he spreads your cheeks apart with his opposite hand. “Maybe I should bite into one of your wrists this time, huh? Take a little bit more than usual… or try this spot over here by your ribs,” he pinches the skin behind your breast to make you flinch. “That seems pretty fucking ticklish.”
You whimper at his callousness, nodding your cheek against the pillow as he glides over your clit a few more times, relishing those little bursts of joy that counter the throbbing ache in your back as he continues to toy with your emotions. “Or maybe you could just…”
“How about here?” He cuts your suggestion short by grasping onto the muscles at the base of your neck, tracing the outline of your pulse as it races down your throat into your right shoulder. “Give that other side a break?”
“Mmm hmm,” you nod again, your mumbled word stifled as he finally thrusts inside you at the most delicious angle, turning that moan into a feral groan as he delves inside your slick, velvety walls.
The two of you sigh together as he fills that void deep within you, stretching you out inch by inch until you’ve enveloped him completely, his muscular thighs flush against the backs of yours. You can feel his heart beating through his chest as it rests against your broken skin, pausing in a brief moment of stasis before he pulls out and pushes back in at twice the speed. Closing your eyes again, you choose to focus on the tantalizing, rhythmic thrusts of pleasure he feeds up into your core, clenching down around him as you ignore the stinging friction of his body as he holds up his end of the deal.
Each ounce of pain he doles out is worth every pound of ecstasy that he delivers along with it; his hand smoothing its way across your hip and beneath your pelvis to find your bud, rubbing it up and down in perfect tempo with the dizzying movement of his hips. Like a classically trained musician, he plays you like a fiddle, knowing exactly how deep to push and how long to pull against your soaking wet organ in order to get you to play the tune that he wants. Your breathy moans reach notes you’ve never even dreamed of hitting before, the sound of his skin slapping against yours providing the perfect beat for his baritone growls as he wraps his other arm around your chest. Pulling you into him, he plays the last few notes leading up to your crescendo with such unmatched fervor that he can feel you vibrate around his bow.
You surrender to the music and let it move its way through you, its rapturous notes immersing your senses with such unbridled bliss that you can barely feel his bite. Your part of the deal never felt so good, so mundane compared to what he gives you in return every time that he drains that little bit of life from your veins. That sharp twinge sinks deep into your shoulder as the song he plays continues up into your spine, exploding in a symphony of the erratic drumbeats of his hips, the mismatched chorus of your moans and his muffled breath against your skin. The reverb shakes itself through you both in waves, pulsing through your core as you flutter around him, quaking into your extremities and out of your fingertips as you desperately grasp onto the sheets.
“Fuck, you taste so sweet when you come.” He finally whispers after getting his fill, lapping up the excess blood off your neck as he finishes sputtering his release inside you.
“Yeah?” You turn your neck to face him as your body continues to shake, running your fingers through his hair as he playfully licks and sucks the skin around your new bite. “How’s that?”
“Like honey, or butterscotch,” he smiles, pressing a trail of kisses into your cheek until he reaches your mouth, giving you a small sample of whatever it is that he can taste.
“I’ll take your word for it,” you whine as he pulls out, the absence of his girth leaving you feeling empty again as he lets go of you completely before laying down next to you. You tuck your head up under his armpit and wonder if you’ll be able to feel him laying next to you in your dreams after you finally fall asleep again.
#miguel o’hara#Miguel O'hara smut#Miguel O'hara x Reader#Oscar Isaac#spiderman across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara fan fiction#spiderman 2099#2099#across the spiderverse
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Sweet Dream
The Sandman AU
Her father means to summon and capture Death, but ends up with the wrong sibling. She becomes fascinated with their prisoner // Main Masterlist
Dream!Aemond x unnamed female character
Warnings: 18+, spells n shit, mild gore, death, lowkey Lima syndrome, smut
Words: 8000
A/n: For my fellow Morpheus and Aemond lovers. Also available to read on AO3.
Roderick Burgess had always been a terrifying man. In grief he has only become more irritable and less predictable.
The telegram came in the early days of July. She delivered the news to Roderick herself, while he was in his study. Her father did not like to be disturbed and he might have beaten her to remind her of the fact, until those fateful words slipped from her mouth. “Randall’s dead.” Shot down by a German machine gun at the Somme. In the end he had been one of thousands, his body buried in a neat line of tombstones somewhere in France, his name engraved on a plaque in the church at Wych Cross, ultimately unremarkable and indistinguishable from the other men and boys who had lost their lives.
But it was not so for Roderick. He let out a sudden groan and clutched his chest as though his pain was tangible and terrible. He shed no tears– of course he didn’t, but he gritted his teeth, crying out in fury as he dashed his hands over his desk, sending papers, books, fountain pens and empty whisky glasses tumbling to the floor.
She stood frozen, waiting for his hand to descend on her for being the one to tell him, but it didn’t.
When they held a memorial service for him, Roderick handed her a piece of paper, to read before the crowd of faces she didn’t recognise.
“Randall was our family’s happiness. He was the bravest, the wisest, and kindest older brother I could possibly dream of having.” Her hands and voice trembled as she read because she knew it was all a lie. In truth, Randall was like their father. They had the same short temper, the same stubbornness and the same cruelty.
But Randall being dead meant she could reinvent him.
Lately, she dreams of happier memories and looks back on them fondly, knowing they can never be contradicted or disproved.
While her father has dreamt of Death ever since.
It’s a brisk afternoon in October when a man in a suit, bow tie and bowler hat arrives at Fawny Rig. He clutches a leather briefcase in front of him and introduces himself as Dr John Hathaway, a curator from the Royal Museum, travelled all the way from London to this quiet corner of East Sussex. She leads him through the panelled halls of the manor, to her father’s study.
Roderick barges in behind them, in a shirt and waistcoat, already smelling faintly of whisky and waving his cane in her general direction. “Tea for our guest,” he orders.
She has the pot ready and strains the dark, reddish liquid into two delicate china cups while her father and Dr Hathaway settle on opposing leather sofas in the centre of the room.
“I take it you have reconsidered?” Roderick says.
“After our meeting at the museum… I know what I said, but–” Dr Hathaway takes an unsure breath. “I received a telegram this morning. My son, Edmund, his destroyer was sunk last week off Jutland.”
It’s a loss Roderick can share, even if he doesn’t really understand how other than a few quick words of condolence. “I lost my son, Randall last year. He was my greatest joy.”
She pauses as she reaches for the sugar bowl. She has never been under the illusion that her own existence has given her father any joy, but then what sort of person would she have to be to earn his respect? She places the sugar on a tray, along with the small jug of milk and the cups, and brings them to the small table between the sofas. The pair don’t spare her a word of thanks or even a brief glance.
Dr Hathaway’s hand lingers on the clasp of his case. “If I give you this, could you truly do it? Could you really–”
“Capture the angel of Death?” Roderick says. “I believe I could.”
She shudders unexpectedly. The old groundskeeper used to say a sudden chill meant someone was walking over your grave.
Dr Hathaway clicks open the clasp and takes out an aged, leather bound book. It has no title on the cover, just gold markings in square, geometric patterns.
“The Magdalene Grimoire,” her father mutters, his eyes wide in an ominous sort of wonder. “With the spells recorded in the book, we will see our sons returned to us.”
The next night is a full moon. She stands by the door with Sykes, welcoming men and women dressed in midnight blue robes to the manor and directing them towards the door that leads to the cellar. They’re all part of Roderick’s ‘Order of Ancient Mysteries’ which as far as she can tell is a cult of fanatics who still believe in witchcraft. They come to Fawny Rig once a month, to listen to her father read from so-called ‘spell books’ as though he is a preacher.
The fanatics pull hoods over their heads and descend the narrow stone steps into the cellar with lit candles grasped in their hands. Roderick leads the way, the book Dr Hathaway gave him tucked under his arm.
She shoots Sykes a concerned frown but he just shrugs. He’s paid to organise the household and guard Burgess’ collection of relics, not to ask questions. Questions are a dangerous game with Roderick.
She trails after them and shuts the iron lock on the door behind her.
The cellar is more like a crypt, an expansive room sprawling under the house, held up by pillars and arches. In the low candlelight she makes out a set of markings on the floor in the heart of the room and this is where the Order of Ancient Mysteries gathers.
The shapes and symbols are unfamiliar to her, painted onto the flagstones, twisting and curling over each other to form a circle. Roderick stands at the very edge of it by a brass lectern.
She watches, half hidden behind a pillar as they stand around the circle and Roderick opens the book, his desired page already marked and studied in the hours since it has been in his possession.
“Tonight,” her father says to his congregation, “we will achieve what no one before us has attempted. We will summon and imprison Death.”
His eyes meet hers through the shadowy space, heavy and sunken with age, grief and months worth of sleepless nights. They glisten slightly too.
He holds his hands out and looks down at the markings on the floor. “Here, in the darkness.”
The others echo his words, softly and melodically at first. Here in the darkness. Here in the darkness.
And so the ritual begins.
“I give you a coin made from a stone,” Roderick says, presenting the object to the ceiling as though the eyes of God are looking down from the heavens, through the house and the earth, and drops it to the floor, inside the circle of markings.
“I give you a knife from under the hills.” He holds up a thin blade and lifts his other arm so the sleeve of his robe drops to his elbow. “I give you the blood from out of my vein.”
She winces but does not look away as he draws the knife along the skin of his forearm, until dark droplets begin to fall and stain the markings.
“I give you a song I stole from the dirt and I give you a feather,” he says, raising a white feather that almost seems to glow through the gloom, “pulled from an angel’s wing.”
And all the while the voices persist. Here in the darkness. Here in the darkness.
He drops the feather and it drifts gently down, landing in the very heart of the circle.
The room is still and she holds her breath.
The feather starts to move. It twists in a circle and floats up, lurching and turning as though it’s being blown about by a breeze she cannot feel or hear.
The voices raise to an urgent chant. Here in the darkness. Here in the darkness.
She clenches her fingertips against the stone of the pillar. She tries to meet her father’s eye again but he is fixated on the feather flying above their heads.
He calls over the chanting, “I summon you with poison,” and the moment he does the feather flickers like the striking of a match. “I summon you with pain! I open the way! I open the gates! I summon you in the name of the old Lords, we summon you together! Come!”
A noise, like a cracking whip splits her ears. The feather bursts into white and golden flames like the flash of a camera. The heat of it rushes over her face and burns her eyes.
And from the flames a body falls to the floor.
It thuds as it hits the ground, silencing the voices save for a few gasps and murmurs. She feels the flagstones rumble under her feet, sees the edges of a black cloak spilling across the floor and a head of long silver hair trailing from its head.
This isn’t an illusion. Roderick Burgess has brought forth a tangible entity, plucked from God-knows-where, lying motionless on the floor. For a moment she wonders if he is dead, until she sees a slight movement in his chest, but even then she fears she could be imagining it.
She takes a few unsure steps to where Roderick stands and the man– he is a man as far as she can tell– is further revealed to her. She can see his face now, his pale skin, the angles of his jaw and cheeks, the curve of his lips, but beyond that she finds herself unable to look away from the jewel that sits where his left eye should be. It is a bright, deep shade of blue and dotted with silver specs, like the vast expanse of twilight when the stars are out but the sky is not quite black. The eye is framed by twisted, red flesh and a scar, slicing from his brow to his cheek. It takes her a moment to realise his other eye, closer to the ground, is closed.
The only other parts of him she can see are the tips of his fingers, clasped around a small pouch.
“Is this… Death?” she utters.
“That remains to be seen,” Roderick says. He points to the pouch. “Get that for me.”
She stares back at her father. How he can speak so flippantly when a man has been conjured, seemingly from thin air, is beyond her. But he glares back, his dark expression only more formidable with his aged frown.
So she steps forward and begins to lower herself beside the man.
“Careful, girl!” Roderick barks, “don’t break the binding circle.”
She stops and looks down, where her skirt is inches from brushing over the markings on the floor. She shuffles back and, with trembling fingers, reaches for the pouch. It’s not hard to take, the man hardly resists, twitching his fingers to keep it in his grasp. It feels wrong, stealing from someone too weak to hold onto what is his.
She looks into the jewel-like eye. Can he see through it? Perhaps it has something to do with the scar? Did he place it there himself, or was he simply made this way?
Someone snatches the pouch from her. She looks up at her father as he undoes the strings and peers inside. “Sand,” he mutters, and stows it away inside his robes.
“And the jewel,” he says to her.
She means to protest, but finds she cannot.
She avoids the markings as she leans forwards. She presses her fingertips beside the man’s eye. His skin is cold and firm.
She swallows her guilt and the nauseous feeling in her throat, nudging her fingertips into the socket. It takes her a few attempts, but she pries the jewel free, wincing when she feels it come loose. If he feels any pain he hardly shows it. His brow furrows but his other eye remains closed, and he makes no sound.
She stands and offers the jewel to her father.
Roderick holds it to the light of one of the candles, giving a curious hum before he pockets that too.
“Move,” he mutters to her, pushing her out of his way as he stands over the man. He tugs on the black cloak and it falls into fragments that fade away, like dust on a breeze. The man’s body is bare, pale skin running over details of muscle and bone. He shivers and twitches like he has a fever, but still he does not speak, or even let out a breath.
“We’ll let our guest recover,” Roderick says, “and then we shall make our demands.
They leave him there for days. He does not move, or ask for food or water.
She doesn’t dream in the nights since they captured their ‘guest’. In fact she hardly sleeps at all. Each morning she wakes, already exhausted, having felt like she’s only closed her eyes for a few brief moments.
Then come the stories in the newspapers. They call it ‘the sleeping sickness’. People all over the country, and in fact the world, have been plagued, either to not sleep at all or never wake up.
On a cold, drizzly morning, a stranger appears at the door to the manor.
She listens and watches from the top of the stairs, crouching by the bannister to stay out of sight as a man with choppy silver hair and pale skin strides into the entrance hall, with Roderick following closely behind.
“Do I know you?” her father asks, furiously.
“No.” The stranger’s voice is low and almost seductive. “But I know all about you, Roderick Burgess, and the being trapped in your basement.”
“You mean to intimidate me?”
She sees a flash of a grin and a pair of pale purple eyes through the wooden balusters.
“I am here to help you,” the stranger says. “There are benefits to keeping one of the Targaryens in your confinement.”
“Targaryens?” her father echoes.
“Did you think Death was the only one of her kind? Death has family. Destiny, Despair, Desire…”
“And who have I got?”
“Dream,” the stranger says with a smile that bares his teeth.
A shiver runs over her shoulders. She keeps her jaw tight to stop herself from reacting to it.
Roderick scoffs. “What good is a God who governs dreams?”
The stranger's voice darkens. “There was a saying in the ancient times of humanity, that said the Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. But they are not Gods. They are more than Gods. They are Endless.”
He tells Roderick of Dream’s vestments, the pouch of sand and his sapphire, both of which he says Roderick may manipulate for his own influences. He says the binding circle will not be enough to contain their prisoner, that they must construct a sphere of glass within the circle.
Most crucially of all, he says no one must be allowed to fall asleep in Dream’s presence.
“Why are you helping me?” Roderick finally asks.
The stranger runs his tongue over his teeth and smiles to himself. “Little family dispute, I shan’t bore you with the details. But for your sake, and for mine, he must not escape.”
He offers his hand to Roderick, who returns the gesture after a moment of hesitation.
Before he heads for the door, the stranger’s eyes trail up to where she hides. Her heart leaps with a sense of dread, like she’s seen something she wasn’t meant to.
She doesn’t trust him, not by the look or sound of him, but her father does. He follows the stranger’s instructions, ordering the construction of the glass sphere, to be welded around their prisoner as it is made. Finally, he arranges a rota of guards to keep watch over him, under strict orders to never fall asleep, lest their prisoner escape into their dreams.
The details of his face are etched into her memory, even after months, the angle of his jaw, the curve of his upper lip, the silver falling over his shoulders. If she could dream, she is sure she would dream of him. Instead she holds onto the flashes of images that appear before her waking eyes, the pale skin of his bare body against the floor, the stars in his sapphire eye, now kept locked away in her father’s study.
She knows Roderick has tried to bargain with him, and each time he returns from the cellar more furious than when he entered it. “He will not speak a word!” his voice bellows through the quiet halls of the manor. “He will not even look at me!”
When she dares to ask questions, Roderick glares at her and tightens the grip on his cane.
The stranger with silver hair was right about something, wealth and admiration have come to Roderick Burgess in droves since he acquired the Lord of Dreams. It’s something about the sapphire, or the sand, something she doesn’t understand, but their family comes across good fortunes, which is almost entirely spent on lavish parties to entertain Roderick’s ever expanding crowd of admirers.
She wakes with the sunrise, from a void and dreamless sleep. The manor is littered with empty bottles, full ashtrays, plates of half-eaten food, odd shoes and playing cards. Her father must still be asleep, which is odd. He is usually an early riser, even after a night of drinking.
A rumbling in her stomach has her heading through the entrance hall towards the kitchen, but she stops when she sees two men waiting by the door to the cellar– two of the guards her father has hired to watch the prisoner, dressed in smart suits with service revolvers just poking out of their jackets. They look restless, peering their heads round corners, shifting their weight on their legs, not wanting to step too far from the door.
“We can’t just leave,” one mutters to the other.
“I’m not staying down there with that… thing one second longer than I have to–”
“Good morning,” she calls.
They look at her in unison, and frown.
“Have you seen Noel and Mauirce?” one of the men asks. “They’re nearly half an hour late.”
The rotation of the guards. They take eight hour shifts in pairs.
Her eyes glance to the cellar door, opened only a fraction. “I could watch him until they get here,” she says, “if you want to leave.”
It doesn’t take them long to agree.
They leave through the front door. When she hears it shut, she finally lets herself reach for the handle to the cellar door. The handle is cold, untouched for hours at a time, and a little stiff. She pushes on it slowly, carefully, making as little noise as possible.
With the cellar door closed, she shuts out the light and warmth of the morning. A silent, icy draft drifts through the narrow stairway. She follows it down, all the way to the dull, eerie light of the main chamber.
The sight takes her breath away, the glass sphere, suspended above the ground, still within the circle of markings that keep his power contained.
He sits in the centre, still bare, his knees tucked into his chest and his hair falling around his face like a veil.
As far she knows, no food or water ever passes the threshold to the cellar, and the cage is never opened. How does he breathe? How does he eat? How does he not wither away? He just sits there, stoic, his face frozen in time like a statue, like the image of a god cut from marble, to be preserved and admired.
A man like that cannot be real, and yet there he is.
“Hello,” she says.
He does not react to her voice or the sound of her footsteps as she walks further into the chamber.
If he can even hear her. She wonders how thick the glass is, if sound can permeate it, or does he just hear the sound of his own breath echoed back to him, endlessly.
She comes to lean against one of the pillars, tracing her fingertips down the cold, rough surface of the stone.
“Are you really the Lord of dreams?” she says.
His gaze lifts and turns to her, just enough that she can see his chin, his nose, and a single violet eye. It is not like the stranger’s, it is far more vibrate, burning with with a silent fury that makes her heart flutter and her skin feel tight.
“I have not dreamt since that night.”
She knows it isn’t just her. It’s the sleeping sickness, the war, the cloud of darkness looming over the rest of the world.
“The groundskeeper has a son, he’s only ten years old. He’s been asleep for months now. He can’t even eat. If he doesn’t wake up, he’ll die.”
He does not react, but his eye follows her as she takes a single step away from the pillar, towards the sphere.
“This is my father’s– our doing, yes?”
Her eyes dip to his chest, to the movement of his lungs underneath skin and muscle, a steady rise and fall with a deep, patient breath.
“My father is a reasonable man, if you could give him something, anything, I am sure he would let you out.”
He tilts his head, until she can just see the point of his scar on his cheek and the edge of his empty eye socket.
He is simultaneously the most terrifying and most beautiful thing she has ever laid eyes upon. The low light only accentuates the harsh angles in his face, the ridges and lines in the muscles and tendons of his neck, torso, arms and legs.
She takes another step closer. “I would let you out, if I could,” she says quietly, like a secret.
He blinks softly, and when her eyes flicker to his lips she sees them curled into something almost like a smile, but not quite.
“Oh you would, would you?”
Her blood runs cold at the sound of her father’s voice. She whips her head around just in time to see Roderick marching towards her with his hand reaching out. His fist grips at her hair, and when she yelps in pain he hisses at her to be quiet. He drags her back up the steps, away from the cold cellar, to the warmth and the light, to the world without dreams.
She bathes before dinner, wincing as she runs her hands over the fresh bruises that mark her skin. Most of them are red, others are set deep and already turning a greyish purple.
Her father’s fury still rings in her ears. “Stupid girl! If he escapes he will slaughter us all!”
Leaning on her back is especially painful, it’s where her body took the brunt of his cane. She brings her knees into her chest, hunching over herself.
She hasn’t cried over her father’s cruelty in years, not since she was a small child. He’d always call her weak for it. Randall never cried when he was disciplined, because he knew, deep down, it was good for him. Perhaps she is simply not as strong as Randall was.
Her tears are hot and stinging in her eyes. She blinks and lets them fall onto her knees, to become the dew that lingers on her skin.
“Do you want to die, girl? Because it can be easily remedied!”
She doesn’t wear anything special, a white satin dress, with long, billowy sleeves, and applies some rouge to her cheeks, to make her seem more awake, more alive.
She reaches the bottom of the staircase as the clock in the entrance hall starts to chime. Five times. Marking the start of another shift rotation.
Two men appear from the hall that leads from the cellar, vaguely nodding as they pass her.
She can see into the dining room from the stairs, an enormous table set with silver cutlery and china plates, for just two of them.
The door to her father’s study is closed, obstructing the voices within. He’s arguing with someone.
Before she can stop herself, she’s walking towards the cellar. She tries the handle to find it unlocked. With one final look to the door to the study, she descends back into the darkness.
Two guards sit on wooden chairs by the entrance from the stairway, and immediately stand to attention as she walks into the chamber.
“Miss,” one of them calls, “you cannot be here.”
And she seems to have caught his attention too. He looks up from where he sits in the sphere, his forearm resting on his knee. His hair is pushed from his face, and his violet eye is wide, curious.
“This is my father’s house, I will go where I please,” she says, shakily, continuing until she comes face to face with the glass.
He stares at her, somewhat furious, but in a way she knows it is not meant for her.
The men behind her are muttering to each other, she doesn’t hear their words, but she hears their panic.
“It isn’t right for him to keep you here,” she says. “It isn’t right for him to think he can play with mortality. And I am as bad as he is for letting this happen.”
The tendons of his hand flex as he clenches his fist, his fingers restless as he stares at her, intently.
“If I let you out,” she whispers, “would you harm me?”
His face softens as his eye moves over her face.
He’s studying her, she realises. She imagines him noting the curves of her cheeks and chin, the shape of her mouth, perhaps the faint teartracks and the dark circles under her eyes.
What does he make of her, the daughter of his captor, the one who pried the sapphire from his eye? Roderick could be right, he might slaughter her the moment he is free from his cage.
“I would like to believe that you wouldn’t,” she says.
His expression gives nothing away.
Suddenly he shifts. His muscles tense as he comes to his feet and uncurls his spine to stand before her. Something about his movements are distinctly inhuman.
The guards behind her are shouting now, telling her to step away, calling for Mr Burgess. Their voices are inconsequential to her, muffled as though spoken behind a closed door. Her heart pounds in her ears. All she sees is him, the intense gaze of his eye, a wide palm reaching out and pressing against the glass.
She reaches up slowly, his eye growing wider with every inch she comes closer to touching the glass that separates them, but not quite meeting it.
His brow furrows as if to question her. Why are you hesitating? What are you afraid of?
She won’t be dragged upstairs again. She won’t be thrown to the floor with nowhere else to go. She will not suffer at the hands of Roderick Burgess any longer.
So she presses her hand to the glass.
Her skin is feverishly cold, her arms weightless. She can almost feel the shape of his palm through the glass, but not quite, like she is reaching for something she will never touch, clawing to the memory of a dream.
She can feel herself slipping into numbness, her eyes and her limbs becoming heavy. She presses her fingernails against the glass, silently pleading though she doesn’t know what for. An escape? An end? Anything.
His face is strangely gentle as he pouts his lips, hushing her, lulling her panic. She can feel her breathing and her heartbeat slowing, but it does not frighten her.
The glass shatters, her knees give way. She is awake enough to know she is falling, but too far gone to stop herself.
But she does not need to.
The world around her is silent– no, a gentle breeze drifts over her skin and whispers in her ear. Sunlight beams onto one side of her face and the other rests against bare skin. She feels a weight around her waist, something propping her body upright.
She tries to steady herself but the ground shifts beneath her. The arms around her only tighten their grip when she stumbles.
Finally she lets her eyes flutter open. They are in a desert, a vast expanse of dry sand, reaching as far as the eye can see.
Her head is moving with his breath, against his chest.
She tilts her gaze up, close enough that her lips barely brush over the base of his throat.
His eye is already fixed on her, holding her firmly in his arms, pulling her into him.
Wordlessly, he releases one arm from her waist, and reaches down, keeping his eye on her face. When he brings himself back up, she looks at his closed fist, where sand slips from between his fingers.
Her confusion must be visible on her face because he smiles softly at her, letting out a low “hmm” as he does.
She means to blink, but when she opens her eyes the world has changed again.
She lies face down against the ground of the cellar, dust and dirt pressing into her cheek, broken glass littering the floor around her.
She blinks again through the haze of sleep still clouding her vision. She makes out a figure in a long black coat with silver hair falling down his back. He stands over two bodies, lying lifeless on the ground, and stalks towards another.
Roderick is at the base of the stairs. He raises his cane and cries out as the prisoner reaches into his coat.
Her father’s voice fades into a spluttering, retching sound. Then he is silent. His body slumps to the floor with a gut-wrenching thud. When the stranger walks away, she sees her father sprawled out on the floor, blood spurting from his throat, seeping into his shirt, pooling on the floor around him.
She pushes herself up, leaning on her hands as her vision is blocked once again by a black coat. He stands over her, blood dripping from a knife he holds in his hand, his eye a brighter shade of violet than it was before.
He kneels beside her, taking her chin in his fingertips.
“Are you hurt?” he says. His voice is a hypnotic blend of soft and harsh, low and light, chilling in a way that sends a wave of warmth through her stomach.
She looks past his shoulder, where Roderick’s skin is turning from white to grey. “What did you do to my father?” she utters.
He jerks her head back to him. His expression is dark, lips upturned into a sneer.
Does he expect her to be grateful?
“My tools,” he says.
“You’re… what?”
“My tools. The sapphire and the pouch.”
The items that were stolen from him, that her father has now paid for with blood.
“Are you going to kill me too?” she says, digging her fingertips into the stone and the shards of glass beneath her.
He tilts his head and his lips twitch in a flicker of movement. His voice is barely above a whisper. “Tell me where they are. I will not harm you.”
Three men lay dead mere feet from them, and yet she finds herself wanting to trust him.
He offers her his arm as she stands, gripping at the thick, leather sleeve. Her palms are covered in small cuts from the glass, droplets of bright red blood pearling at the edges. He takes her wrists in his hands to have a look and tuts to himself.
“Quickly,” he says, moving towards the steps, leading her along with him, past the bodies of the guards, and the body of her father.
She brings him to the study, her hands shaking, bloody and outstretched before her. The door is wide open, a stack of papers thrown carelessly to the floor.
Roderick’s safe sits in a black cabinet in the corner of the room. She uses her fingertips to open it, wincing at the pieces of glass still stuck in her skin, but she swallows down the pain.
She guesses the combination on the first try. 1895– Randall’s birth year.
There, in the centre shelf, above the Grimoire, below a stack of banknotes, is the pouch of sand and the sapphire.
He reaches for the gem first. She turns away as he fixes it back into his socket, remembering the weight of it in her palm when she took it from him. She sees him reach forward again, but not for the pouch. He takes a hold of her wrists.
With no magic words or spells, he waves a hand over her palms. For a moment she sees a glow in his sapphire eye. The pain vanishes, so does the blood, the glass and the dirt.
She blinks a few effortless tears from her eyes. Tears for her father, tears of relief, she cannot place a cause.
Cold fingertips meet her skin once more, as the Lord of Dreams wipes her tears away, bringing her gaze to meet his.
He leans in closer, until his forehead meets hers. “Sleep,” he whispers.
She falls into him, to find herself wide awake, clinging onto him as she had done in the desert.
But they are somewhere else entirely. The sky above them is a pale yellow, like daybreak, painted with swirling grey clouds. The land here is… dead. Dead trees, barren mountains and hills, and in the distance, beyond a dried lake, is a castle of red brick, decrepit, falling into ruin.
“You see the damage that has been done to my realm?” he says. With her ear pressed against his chest, his voice is cavernous and she feels everything, the way his words drag through his throat. She feels his pain at being confined, the loss of his home and his creations.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“I do not forgive easily, that is why Roderick Burgess had to die. But you…” he pulls away from her so he might look at her properly, cupping the sides of her face and swiping his thumbs over her cheeks. “I do not need an apology from you. We are free of him now.”
“Is that what you think I wanted?”
He hums with tight lips. “I have seen your dreams, as I see the dreams of every mortal. I see them as clearly as you perceive the waking world. It just so happened that our dreams coincided.”
She had never dreamt of her father’s death and she had certainly never imagined that she might have played a part in it. But she cannot deny the weight now lifted from her shoulders. She will never have to earn his approval, she will never have to endure him again. She is free of him.
“Go now,” he says, “I am sure you have your own business to resolve.”
He releases his hold of her and brings his hands behind his back. As he walks towards the castle the world around her starts to fade. She can smell the musk of the manor, the lingering smoke of her father’s cigars, the distinct scent of a winter evening.
“Wait!” she calls.
The ends of his coat swish around his legs as he turns back to face her. “Yes?” he says, the corners of his mouth curling up into a small smile.
“I want to know your name.”
“I have had many names,” he says.
“And how would you have me know you?”
“Aemond,” he says.
She echoes his name, letting her mouth linger on the final syllable. “Will I see you again?”
He draws the tip of his tongue between his lips. “Perhaps,” he says.
When she wakes she is laid out on one of the leather sofas of her father’s study. She looks down at her hands, traces her fingertips down her face, now free of the dirt and dust.
She wonders if she might have dreamt all of it, the beautiful man in the sphere, the glass breaking, her father’s blood on the floor…
Her life is never the same after that. With her father dead, his estate passes to her. For the first time, her life is hers to do with as she pleases.
And yet she feels an absence, a hollow longing in her chest.
Her dreams come back to her since she set him free, and each night she dreams of him.
He only appears in brief moments, like lighting, bright and brilliant, but gone in a heartbeat, before she can truly see him. She sees the movement of a leather coat, flashes of silver, violet and sapphire blue. Sometimes she is met with darkness as a pair of lips ghosts over her neck with a contented sigh and a warm breath.
She cannot bear it.
As she lies in the empty manor house, she traces her fingers over her body, her lips, down her neck and her chest, underneath her cotton nightgown, to her navel and the pool of wanting wetness between her legs, trying to imagine they are his.
She pictures the way his hair fell around his face, the coldness of his skin, the curve of his lips. She imagines them parting in a small sigh, the sound of his breath, the way his chest hummed as she circles over her bundle of nerves. Pleasure sparks at first but it keeps slipping from her grasp.
She circles faster, harder, searching for a spot that will finally give her the release she craves.
She feels heat and a sheen of sweat settling on the surface of her skin, her breathing hitches, her hips twitch under her touches. The pleasure heightens, then fades.
With her eyes tightly shut, she spurs herself on with thoughts of him, breathlessly chanting his name into the empty space and cold air of her bedroom.
“Aemond… Aemond…”
Something changes.
The mattress shifts beneath her and a weight presses against her body, her legs, her stomach, her chest.
A hand clasps around hers, ceasing her movements, and bringing it to rest by her side.
She laments the loss of the friction against her bud, her pleasure pulled away from her, but in its place anticipation blooms within her.
When she opens her eyes he is above her, against her, hovering his face over hers so that all she sees are his eyes, one violet, one sapphire.
“You have my attention,” he says in a soft but unsettling voice.
A thrill ripples through her body.
She whispers his name on an exhale of breath, running her fingertips over his arms, tense and toned as his props himself over her.
But she is somewhat dazed, her senses numbed by fatigue and the echo of the pleasure she had been chasing.
“Is this real?” she utters.
Aemond leans further into her. She feels a weight between her hips and an unmistakable hardness prodding at her centre as he brings his lips to her neck, pressing a slow, teasing kiss against a sensitive spot of skin that has her body tensing and her fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Does if feel real?” he whispers against her skin.
How much has he truly seen of her dreams, her desires, she wonders? Perhaps she should feel some kind of shame, but she cannot, not when she is on the precipice of something bright, beautiful and damning. She can hardly stand being on the edge of it, having him so close but not close enough.
She wraps her arms around his neck as he teases her with his lips, crosses her legs around his hips, meeting his movements as he torturously grinds his hardening cock against her cunt, dripping with arousal, twitching and clenching around nothing at the anticipation.
“Needy little thing,” he mutters, dragging his nose along her neck as he comes to kiss the hollow of her throat.
His voice sends a shockwave through her body. Her hips buck against his, determined for relief as her fingers thread through the soft strands of his hair, and tug.
He lets out a quiet growl against her skin. A hand rests upon her thigh and trails up, bunching the hem of her nightgown to her waist and adjusting the other side.
He sits back, watching her with the same darkness and intensity as when he was trapped inside the cage, intrigued at the least, fascinated if she is presumptive.
The irony of being laid half bare before him and at his mercy does not escape her.
“I’ve heard you crying out for me, little mortal,” he says.
“You said you can see my dreams,” she says, “how?”
“Your dreams exist in my realm,” he says, “in The Dreaming. I see your dreams as I see the dreams of every other being. I feel them, as clearly as you perceive the waking world. But you…” he muses, settling his hands on either side of her waist. “You are incessant.”
She shivers and writhes under his touch, a pulsing heat settling within her.
She traces her hands over his, where they grip at her waist, along his smooth skin, the tendons and veins. His fingers are long and lithe. She knows they would feel so perfect, wrapped around her throat, stroking over her skin, pushing inside of her wet heat to coax her pleasure.
Aemond smiles to himself as though he can hear her thoughts.
He grips harder into her flesh and pulls his hips back, only to let his cock slide over her slick folds with teasingly gentle thrusts.
Every stroke pushes her closer and closer to the edge, but not enough to find release. She feels the frustrating want pulsing through her body, the coil getting tighter and tighter, her cunt clenching over nothing.
“Aemond…” she says with a breathless mewl, “please…”
“You really want it, don’t you?” Aemond growls, resting his forehead against hers. “Just feel how wet that empty little cunt is for me.”
Her eyes trail along the angles of his face, the line of his scar, the night sky in his eyes as he stares down at her, the gentle curve of his lips and how they settle into a soft expression.
Her gaze slips further down, over his throat, his collar, his pale, bare chest, the ridges of the muscles on his abdomen, the slight dip in his waist, the trail of silver hair to his cock, long, hard and flushed with need, transfixed by the way it moves against her.
She holds her breath each time he withdraws, stifling her whines into his mouth when he only keeps teasing her.
“I want it,” she groans, “I want you. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.”
He lets out a contented hum as he leans down to kiss her. The movements of his mouth are slow and consuming, claiming her with lips, tongue and teeth, wetness and warmth.
She holds him close by the sides of his face. In his violet eye she sees his hunger, his rage, his lust. In his sapphire, she sees oblivion.
And finally, he eases himself into her.
He fucks her delicately, dragging his cock through her gently, slowly, deeply. His lips ghost over her skin, her temple, her cheek, back to her mouth with light kisses and strained but soft breaths.
With a few deft circles over her bud she feels herself come undone around him. Her climax burns through her and she holds him closer for purchase, digging her fingertips into his skin as her resolve melts and her legs tremble around his hips.
Aemond doesn’t stop. He holds her against the mattress with a determined grip, fucking her through her peak until her pleasure settles and simmers once more.
Being kissed by him, held by him, fucked by him feels light a dream, that weightless, numb feeling of being between consciousness and sleep coursing through her limbs. It feels good, it feels deep, it feels perfect.
She cannot be sure how many climaxes he draws from her, she just feels him, his heat, his hands and his skin as he repositions her legs, guides her onto her front, brings her up to her knees, pushes her back down again, until she is a blissful, mindless mess.
He meets his own end when he has her face down on the bed, her face turned to the side against the pillow, his mouth on the underside of her jaw as he pounds into her.
“You’re doing so well,” she hears him rasp, “you’ve been so good to me… fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”
Her mind is beyond words and coherent thoughts. She utters the only thing she feels, the only thing she can think of, “Aemond… Aemond… Aemond…”
He stills his hips against her rear with a guttural moan, pressing his face against hers, squeezing her waist under his hands. He allows himself a few more shallow thrusts until he is spent. She feels his cock pulse within her, a warmth pooling, his spend dripping from her cunt once he has pulled away.
The weight dissipates from her back and for a moment she lies there, basking in the afterglow, feeling her chest rise and fall against the bed, the softness of her sheets under her fingertips.
She wakes to a gentle breeze running over her skin and slipping down her spine.
She allows her eyes to flutter open and recoils at the pale sunlight beaming through the spaces in the curtains.
She holds her breath.
She hears no sound or sign of life other than her own pulse.
She twists herself to sit up, noting that her bedsheets are neat and the hem of her nightgown is where it should be.
Is it possible that she dreamed it? She remembers it so vividly, but the mind has a way of playing tricks. Perhaps it was only a dream.
“Your dreams exist in my realm,” he had said. “I feel them, as clearly as you perceive the waking world.”
How do we determine what is real? she wonders as she pulls on a robe and goes to open the curtains. The morning floods her bedroom. It brings no warmth, but it brings light and life back into the room.
To dream is to live beyond ourselves, why should that be any less true than the world around me?
She seats herself before her vanity, reaching for the drawer for her hairbrush.
But something catches her eye, a glint of colour against mahogany wood, a small gem catching the sunlight.
She takes it between her thumb and index finger and brings it before her eyes; a sapphire, the size of a pearl, a deep and vibrant blue. Its edges are uneven and dull, uncut, as though plucked straight from the earth.
She turns it about between her fingers. It could be a trick of the light, but there is depth to it, a vastness within. The sapphire seems to capture the night sky, dotted with glimmering stars.
His was the same.
As the dazed state of sleep wears off, she feels the satisfied ache between her legs, the spots on her skin marked by him. She smiles to herself and holds the gem in her palm, this precious gift, this reminder, this promise from the Lord of Dreams.
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Sweet Dream taglist: @solisarium @sirenangelroyal @sabrinasstar @shygardengalaxy @aemondsfavouritebastard @wintrr13 @thedamewithabook @lexwolfhale @rainyforest777
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Could I request morpheus finding his wife after imprisonment in the mortal realm maybe she left to keep watch of the dreams that left the dreaming and is living as a mortal (maybe has a job at a bookstore). Morpheus gets slightly possessive and protective (you're my wife you belong in the dreaming where you're safe) and maybe gets a little jealous of a human friend she made. Ends with them goung back to the dreaming. I kinda imagine a grumpy x sunshine vibe. it can be fluffy slightly-angsty or even more of a funnier side up to you either way I'll read it
Also I say wife and fem-terms but I don't mind it being made gender neutral if you prefer
Thank you for your time and effort I look forward to more amazing content ✨️ 💕
Fandom: The Sandman
A/N: I made her as female because the thing in these is that when you use certain pronouns and say that she's his wife etc when requesting, I can't help but mentally adapt it onto the fic = I might accidentally use womanly stuff even if I'm trying to write it gn = I might get hate for it (it has happened before and it was quite a show last time which ended in a big drama and I lost a lot of followers for that and I definitely don't want it to happen again). Saying because I know someone might think I'm avoiding gn the best I can and attack me for it if I don't say anything. (And clarifying that I don't think it's your fault, it's just one of my oddities and I apologize for that, and yeah I have to admit that I prefer writing fem reader because at least then I know I won't make mistakes that would cause drama, but I want my blog to be as inclusive as possible with my abilities so I also write gn)
Word count: 1.4k
When your husband disappeared, the whole Dreaming had gone crazy. People were worried about him first - then frustrated, and then they started to flee. You and Lucienne tried to tell them to stay and questioned if they'd really believe Morpheus would abandon his kingdom and all of its people like that.
"It has happened before," Afsaix grumbled as he packed his bags with everything he owned. "There's no telling when he'll return."
You grabbed the faun's arm and made him look at you. "He will come back! I know it!" Your words came out more desperate than you intended.
Lucienne watched the scene from the door, sighing as yet another resident of The Dreaming was about to leave.
The faun ripped his arm from your grip, closing his bag. "Don't be ridiculous, he's been gone for what, over 30 years? My house is in crumbles, I have nothing here anymore… We need to find somewhere new," he said quietly but firmly. He shook himself as if your hands had given him fleas and left.
"Lucienne, we have to stop this!" you pleaded with the only person who was just as confident of Morpheus returning as you were.
"I'm afraid there's little to do other than wait. Once Lord Morpheus comes back, we can work on restoring all this, but until then, we can only wait." She sighed, rubbing her forehead tiredly.
You nodded in defeat, knowing she's right. Then your eyes widened, only now realising where the dreams are going.
"Lucienne, they're going to The Waking World, which means that someone has to guard them," you told your friend desperately. "I have to go there and guard their doings. They can cause a lot of damage in there."
"I understand your concern, my lady, but are you certain you're ready to take such a large job on you?" Lucienne asked kindly.
You nodded again. "I have to, it's my responsibility while my husband is away. I will make sure everything remains safe." You bit your lip before you briefly hugged her. "And you, keep people who decide to stay safe here."
"I will do my best, my lady."
***
You had settled in a little town and began working at a little bookshop around the corner with a nice woman living upstairs, secretly keeping an eye on dreams and nightmares that had escaped here. Most dreams settled just fine, living a peaceful life. But you sensed they felt like they didn't completely fit in this world, which was true, and you were sure they'd come back once Morpheus would return.
A hand was laid on your shoulder, and you smiled at your friend - Michael, a young man, barely 18, and you had persuaded Mrs. Brooks give him his first job.
"What is it?" you asked gently, and Michael gestured at one of the shelves with an elderly woman.
"She's trying to find a book that she read as a child, she doesn't seem to understand we don't have so old books."
"Oh dear," you sighed as you walked up to her.
The woman stared blankly into space, repeating "I need that storybook," over and over again.
You whipped your hand, a book appearing in your hand. "This one?" You held out the book, and her eyes lit up when she saw the title.
"Oh! Exactly that one, the young man over there said that you don't have it."
"Michael is new, and this is our last edition. Do forgive him."
The woman came to the desk, tightly holding onto the book and gave you a generous amount of money, way too much for it. "Keep the change, you just made an old woman's year." She patted your cheek kindly before leaving with the precious book.
You smiled after her, Michael blinking.
"How do you do that?" he asked.
"Do what? Make people happy?"
"No! The thing that you know exactly what they're looking for without them telling you, and then you just have it in your hands the next moment." He frowned thoughtfully.
You chuckled softly, putting your hand on his shoulder. "I guess I just am good at reading humans. But Michael, would you be a dear and go unload a box of books that arrived this morning? I have to order another box for next week."
"Of course, right away," Michael replied eagerly, going back to work. You went behind the counter and got to work yourself, barely hearing a tingle of the door bell as the door opened. You heard steps and saw someone stopping to stand between the shelves.
"I'll be with you in a moment," you called out. The person didn't answer, but stood still which you found a little weird and finally looked up. Your breath hitched when you met his gaze.
He stood there in his black coat and a small smile playing on his lips, and you couldn't help but feel something stir inside your chest. It was like butterflies were flying around in there, as if you saw him for the first time - and it kind of was, first time in over a century. "Morpheus!" you breathed happily.
"My love." His voice whispered as you circled the counter and ran to him. You crushed against him with all the strength left in your body - his smell filled your nose, the warmth of his coat embracing you. Then he pulled away slightly, searching your eyes.
"Where have you been?" You asked urgently. "I've missed you so much."
"I was imprisoned, my sweet," he told you sadly, cupping your face tenderly. "I was kept away because of people's selfishness and greediness."
You kissed him then, relieved that he's returned safe and sound. Then you heard someone clear their throat and broke away, looking at Michael frowning at the two of you. Morpheus frowned back at him, but you just smiled.
"Michael, can I introduce you to my husband?" You laughed lightly before gesturing the boy closer.
"Oh! So this is your husband, he returned from his trip then? Pleasure to meet you, I'm Michael." he extended his hand to Morpheus, but he didn't shake it, just glared at him and Michael retreated his hand. "Right. Um, do excuse me." He cleared his throat again nervously and walked back to the storage room.
You frowned at Morpheus after Michael had closed the door after him "Why did you do that for? He tried to be nice."
"Humans are not nice. They are full of themselves, thinking they are better than everyone else. People who kept me prisoner showed me how humans truly are." Morpheus sighed heavily, and you rolled your eyes.
"You're jealous." He didn't reply, but his expression confirmed it. "You have no reason to."
"We will go back to The Dreaming now." he muttered, turning towards the door, but stopping as he saw you had no intention to follow him.
"Morpheus, I have to take care of the shop first."
He sighed, lifting his chin up. "No, you are my wife, you belong in The Dreaming with me, where you are safe. You do not belong here among mortals."
"I didn't mean I'm staying here for good," you said with a small laugh. "I just have to arrange things so I won't leave anyone in trouble."
"You worry too much," he murmured, leaning down and kissing your forehead tenderly. His hands stroked your cheeks softly and looked around the little bookshop. "This is... nice looking."
"Well, not as nice as the library at the palace, but it's a cute little shop." you grinned, taking in your surroundings. This building had been your workplace for over a century, it had gone for so long that you pretended to be the great-granddaughter of your first self, but you always knew there would be an end for it. You had told Mrs. Brooks when you started working that you'd quit once your husband returns from overseas from his "business trip" and one of your employment conditions were that you have the right to quit on the spot if you wished. She had been fine with it, she had a bunch of people who were willing to do part-time job there in case they were in need of a new employee - her friends who had already retired, if you had gotten it right.
So you squeezed your husband's hand and made your way upstairs to tell Mrs. Brooks that it had come your time to leave, and after hugging Michael and getting a box of cookies from Mrs. Brooks and her wife, you took off with Morpheus, back to The Dreaming.
Back to home.
---
The Sandman taglist: @jesllianaquilesrolon // send in an ask to be added, and specify which of my fandoms you want to be tagged on! Don’t just say “can you add me to your taglist” as I can’t know what taglists do you mean by that!! ALSO IF YOU WON’T INTERACT BEYOND LIKING, I’LL EVENTUALLY TAKE YOU OFF THE LIST!!
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{HEADLIST - UPDATED VERSION }
{ FANFIC CHARACTERS COMING SOON }
↓
See here
♡characters I've written for so far♡
Larissa weems
Mortica Addams
Miranda hilmarson
Rebecca Welton
Gwen { in fabric}
Marilyn Thornhill
Lady dimitrescu
Brienne of tarth
Melissa schemmenti
Agatha harkness
Kate bishop
Addison montgomery
Sarah alder
Lottie matthews
Emily prentiss
Lucifer { the sandman}
Billie [ from national treasure ]
Natasha romanoff
Mother miranda
Nadja {what we do in the shadows}
Vanessa shelly
Olivia crain
❗️CHARACTER HEADLIST❗️
[ this is where you find all the links to every fanfic I've written]
❗️SERIES ❗️
Real persons i'v done:
Adele read it here
Gwendoline christie read it here
Chaptered Series Lay Out:
Don't be shy little one - gwendoline christie
Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4
Manners - gwen {from in fabric}
Part 1 part 2
"I see the way you look at me" - lady dimitrescu
Part 1 part 2
Cupcakes and muffins - Agatha harkness
Part 1 part2
Wanna get drunk and nasty? - brienne of tarth
Part 1 part 2
When you call my name. Do you think i'll come running? - lady dimitrescu
Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7
I will carry you - coming soon
(Lady dimitrescu multi chapter series { WYCMN} )
{Keeping up with the dimitrescus}
{Keeping up with the Wednesdays}
{2023 KINKTOBER FICS }
{KINKMAS FANFICS & SERIES}
☆ TERMS AND CONDITIONS ☆
Who I write for? Any FEMALE fictional character. Though There might be some exceptions.
I only write on fictional characters! If I write on a real person, at NO circumstances will it be smut or anything inappropriate what so ever, theses people have a life and should be shown respect!!!
If you are requesting a fanfic with a real person it has to be SFW/fluff
© I do not give permission for anyone to re-write/reblog my work in anyway and claim it as their's on another { Platform, Website or App!! } If this act is done I am not responsible for your REPERCUSSIONS ‼️
Reblogs and comments are always appreciated♡♡
I mostly write FANFICS in the category of smut, fluff, comfort, depression, anxiety, hurt, angst etc themes, and of course if you are suggesting a fanfic you can include your own that you would like me to write :).
My fanfics are for people over the age of 18+ read at your own risk!! NO MINORS SHOULD BE INTERACTING WITH MY BLOG OR WORK!!.
If the fanfic is a smut , kinks will mostly be based on the story line or the story line of what was requested, and if it's requested you can feel to specify what kinks you'd like added.
I also write x wife!reader , x daughter!reader etc.
For All x student facfics the reader is 22 or older! I do not support UNDERAGE / MINOR SEXUAL ACTIVITY!
No fanfic request will be writen if the following are included : excessive BDSM, physical abuse being done towards someone or something , sexual harassment, minors with sexual activity, r@pe, etc.
I don't do x male characters.
If you have respect for me, i will also have respect for you!♡:)
Please note that no racist act will be promoted on this blog towards me or anyone for I am a black woman, in other terms a 'woman of color'!!
Please note that if you request a fanfic where i don't feel comfortable writing the character or your request has things in it that i am uncomfortable writing or it doesn't make complete sense, it will not be WRITTEN! Please don't not take this as a offense for I have limits too.
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If you need someone to talk to I'm always available! If your doing it through anon ask please use T.S before writing so I can know it's a 'talk space' conversation. I'm very big on mental health issues and wish to help anyone and everyone🥺💞.
*How to find my fanfics easily*
Further up, there is a link that says " character headlist" when you click on that every fanfic that I have ever writen will be found there through another link that leads to the fic itself.
My fics are all in categories of a character.
Have a fun time reading! Also more fucs will be added in the near future! Love you!
☆Requests☆
My Requests are open 24/7, your free to request anything (respectfully!!) If you are requesting a idea for a fanfic please be specific as to what you want in it ( detailed ) :) . And please be patient when waiting for your fic to be posted, because I want to make it as nice as possible and sometimes I may have other fics/requested fanfics writing at the time of when you sent yours, i go in order:). I take all requests seriously and enjoy writing them💕 love you!<3
- sincerely the, MOTHER OF SMUT :)
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MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS (TEMP) CLOSED !
Come check out my works bellow!
I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)
RULES:
I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.
NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. I find them kind of weird for me to write so my fics are mostly 1st Person POV. I write most of my fics based off on Fixations that may last a couple weeks, months, years. If you've requested something but havent seen the fic, that might be because i've lost interest!
What i will write:
male!reader
gender-neutral reader
Ftm! Reader
Smut
Platonic or Romantic relationships
angst
fluff
comfort
headcanons
nsfw alphabets
drabbles
Series
Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)
What I Won't write:
female!reader
underage characters (anyone under 17)
necrophilia
real people
pedophilia
Omorashi
age play
rape/non-con
incest
offensive/harmful things
THE CHARACTER LIST! Or, characters I will definitely write about if requested!
PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE
Ezra (prospect)
Joel Miller
Javi Gutierrez
Javier Peña
Frankie Morales
Whiskey (Kingsman)
Tim Rockford (yes from the Ad)
TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK
Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd
Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin
Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw
MARVEL & XMCU
Miguel O'hara (ATSV)
Hobie Brown (Platonic/fluff only)
Pavitr Prabhakar (Platonic/fluff only)
Kurt Wagner (xmcu)
Loki Laufeyson
Bucky Barnes
Moon Knight System
Deadpool
Daredevil
Eddie and Venom (They come as a pair)
BULLET TRAIN
Tangerine
Ladybug
Jujutsu Kaisen
Satoru Gojo
Nanami Kento
Higuruma Hiromi
Ryoumen Sukuna
Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)
Toge Inumaki (Fluff)
DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN
Connor (RK800)
Nines (RK900)
COD MODERN WARFARE II
Simon 'Ghost' Riley
John 'Soap' Mactavish
König
HONORABLE MENTIONS
Chris Knight (Real Genius)
Hannibal (NBC)
The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)
Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)
Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)
Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.
If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!
For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!
Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff
XMEN Family Pride Fic
Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1
Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2
Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession
Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut
Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff
Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy
Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature
Tangerine/Male Reader Mature
Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature
Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up
Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)
Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader
Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff
Joel Miller & Kid Reader
Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst
Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff
Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff
Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff
Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst
Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut
And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!
Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)
Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)
Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)
Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)
Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)
"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)
Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)
Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands.
Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!
#male reader#x male reader#gender neutral reader#writing requests#for my dudes and no genders !#robert bob floyd x male! eader#robert bob floyd x gn!reader#jake hangman x male reader#jake hangman x gn!reader#bradley rooster x male reader#kurt wagner x male reader#loki laufeyson x male reader#bucky barnes x male reader#moon knight system x male reader#deadpool x male reader#symbrock x male reader#tangerine x male reader#ladybug x male reader#hannibal x male reader#ezra prospect x m!reader#joel miller x male reader#agent whiskey x male reader#javi gutierrez x male reader#leon s kennedy x male reader#luis serra x male reader#Gojo x male reader#Satoru x male reader#sukuna x male reader#higuruma x male reader#nanami x male reader
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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 7
Chapters: 7/?
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
Note: I included a couple of sentences from the show in a dialogue to better explain what the Dreaming is about and how i tworks.
It was finally time for you to learn more about Morpheus.
He allowed you to walk beside him into the Dreaming and learn about his family.
Chapter 7
You sit there in complete shock, staring at the bird in front of you with an unblinking expression. For a moment, you felt like a female version of Doctor Dolittle, understanding the language of animals that nobody else could hear beyond the noises they originally produced.
You had met the God-like entity that you had admired as a child, someone you thought only belonged to a bedtime fairytale. Encountering a talking bird was just as unexpected, and yet there it was, staring at you with its black eyes while its shiny feathers reflected the colors of the sunset.
All the things you thought never existed were manifesting before your very eyes.
And so you asked, "Who are you?"
The raven opened its wings in reverance. "I am Matthew. At your service."
After a moment of disorientation, and with your chest still burning from the coughing fit, you smiled wholeheartedly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew. Though I don't understand what is even going on here.”
Matthew nodded. "I mean, a talking bird like me is not something you see happening every day, is it?”
“No,” you chuckled. “Not at all.”
"Sorry for the jumpscare. Are you feeling better now?”
Not only did he sound human, he was even considerate with you.
"Apart from my throat on fire, it's all good.”
He sighed. "I should have considered the consequences when the boss sent me here.”
You immediately sit up straight, fully attentive. “Your boss? Are you talking about Morpheus, by any chance?”
"Well, that didn't take long to figure out.”
Knowing that Morpheus didn't actually disappear immediately put you at ease. "It’s not like I have other options to pick,” you said with a wide grin. “I don't know anyone else who would send me a raven, of all things.”
“Fair point.”
You looked at Matthew, and the memories of the other bird lying motionless in a pool of blood on the basement floor came back to you like a stab. In your book, there was a phrase that evidently justified his presence by Morpheus's side:
"Observe, child: Dream of The Endless has a longtime ally and trusted companion, a raven that travels between realms as The Sandman's faithful messenger.”
You asked yourself if a new raven automatically took over once the previous one was gone.
Matthew tilted his head to the side and asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"
You snapped out of your pensive state. "I am, sorry. I was lost in thought."
"I suppose this is quite confusing for you.”
"It is. Not in a bad way, I promise. May I ask why he sent you here, Matthew?”
The raven took a step closer, looking up at you. "Actually, I don't know much about it myself. The boss told me to look out for you and report back that nothing is out of the ordinary." He clicked his tongue. "Sometimes I can feel him on the back of my head, you know, watching through me.”
You raised an eyebrow. "Is he watching right now?”
A part of you wished he was.
"Not at this time."
Oh, well.
The thought of him checking on you during his absence made your heart flutter once again. As time went on, you began to realize that your idealized vision of the perfect relationship was not a realistic expectation. You accepted that a man could go radio silent for days or weeks, shamefully cheat on you with a random woman, or simply show interest only when his testosterone was driving him crazy.
Despite that awful acceptance, you found yourself in a new situation with Morpheus - not even a mortal man, someone you barely knew and couldn't yet define. He sent a raven all the way to the human world so that he could observe you, leaving you with a mixture of emotions: happiness and wholeness, but also uncertainty and confusion.
You were left wondering how to categorize Morpheus in your life. Was he your boyfriend now? Would you get the chance to be intimate with him again, or was it a one-time occurrence that he had no intention of repeating? The way he made you feel the previous night was indescribable. You still shook in excitement whenever you remembered how his lips felt against yours, the way he touched your skin and pleasured your senses, making you drawing out your deepest desires. Your body was still tingling and your mind was consumed with thoughts of him all day. If you closed your eyes, you could breathe in his lingering scent of sand, of the sea, of a forest in winter, of a sweet incense.
Morpheus was literally a dream come to life.
You smiled at Matthew as you laid comfortably against the soft pillow of the chair. “I haven’t introduced myself to you, have I?”
You could see the top of his folded wings raise and lower, almost as if he were shrugging. “I already know who you are, Y/N.”
The question that popped into your head immediately escaped your lips. "Did he say anything about me?”
"It seemed like he preferred to keep it all to himself. So, no, not really. Just… uhhh…. bits, here and there.” he replied.
“But why send you here? What is it that shouldn’t look out of the ordinary?”
“He didn’t say. Something was clearly on his mind though. He seemed... worried.”
Although you couldn't discern what was troubling him so deeply, his care and concern were more than welcome. The fact that he still cared for you, even from afar, and offered some form of companionship while being away was enough to make you feel gratified.
And so, you decided to satisfy some of your growing curiosity. "How long have you been with him?”
"Only for a few days. Lucienne sort of 'hired' me for the job," he explained.
"Lucienne..." you trailed off, thinking about the woman you had spoken to in your dream.
“You know her?”
You pondered over what answer to give before saying, "Vaguely. I met her once, but my memories of the Dreaming are still a little fuzzy.”
Matthew hummed in thought, turning his little head to the setting sun. "You know, I used to like this time of day when I was human," he said, reminiscing.
"You were human?!" you asked, seeking clarification.
"Oh, I was. Just maybe not the best one," he replied with a hint of sadness.
“How did you-”
“-End up becoming a raven? That’s a good question, which I unfortunately can’t answer. Magic? All I know is that I was in my bed, then all of a sudden, poof! I had wings and feathers and a sharp beak in place of a mouth,” he explained with humor in his voice.
"In other words, you died?”
“Seems like it.”
“That's quite mind-blowing."
"Tell me about it. So now I am a messenger working for Dream of The Endless, whether he likes it or not."
You took hold of your mug again, despite the tea having gone completely cold. You drank the last drops of it in order to not let it go to waste. "Why, is he against the idea of having you by his side?”
"Let's just say he's not over Jessamy yet.”
“Who’s Jessamy?”
“Oh… she was the other raven. You know, the one before me.”
‘So her name was Jessamy…’
"But he sent you here," you pointed out, "You must be rather important if he asked you to find me.”
"That's the perk of being a raven, I guess," he said. "I can easily travel between realms without using any sand or crossing portals. But enough about me. How are you doing? Is your human life proceeding well? Anything weird or scary to report?”
"Not really. I'm doing quite well over here, better than ever, in fact."
You were pretty sure that you saw Matthew smile.
"You know, I don’t think I have any food suitable for a bird, but... would you like to come in?"
"No worries, I don't need to eat. But I accept your invitation. I've got nothing else to do right now, anyway,”
You stood from the chair, keeping the empty mug in one hand and opening the window to let him in. Matthew jumped off the table, walked in front of you and took a look inside.
"Nice house," he remarked.
You laughed to yourself. The scene could definitely look comical with you warmly welcoming a bird into your home and gesturing to it like it was a human guest.
Watching Matthew fly over the couch to test its comfortable cushions was odd, but his company was already bringing you joy. Maybe it was the fact that he sounded like a comedian, providing comfort with his reassuring voice.
Or maybe it was due to Morpheus's hidden presence within him, which you could somehow feel all around you as you walked into the kitchen.
When Morpheus decided to find you in the Waking World, he didn't plan to get carried away in such a manner. He had finally retrieved the tools that were stolen after his capture, but the quest had turned out to be slightly more complicated than he had foreseen. He felt satisfied and more powerful than ever before now that the Dreaming was almost fully restored, but the Endless was also left with a sense of emptiness. After a century of holding a grudge and wanting nothing more than freedom and revenge, he found himself with nothing else to strive for.
However, there was just one thing he still needed to do: establish a proper conversation with you without holding back anymore. Morpheus was prideful, but the affection he felt for you was incredibly genuine. It started as a curiosity he wanted to satisfy, and he didn't think too much of it until he noticed how persistent you were in wanting to see him. The way you spoke and gestured conveyed all your kindness and sincerity, a rarity among humans that he wasn't accustomed to.
The connection that developed between the two of you didn't go unnoticed. Morpheus could feel it to the bone in a way that even he, as an Endless, found difficult to describe. He couldn't stop thinking about your smile, the sound of your voice, the light that sparked in your eyes whenever you visited him. At that point, he knew he should have pushed you away for your sake and his own, pretended that you were nothing more than a mere burden, allowing you to follow your own path without giving his fate too much thought. But the more he saw you in the basement, the more his need for you thrived. The moments he listened to you in silence were the only times he could forget about being sealed away from his realm and contained in a cage like a miserable insect.
He wished he could talk to you, touch you. The indirect connections he established with you through the glass were potent enough to make him explore your depth and feel you in his core, but it only resulted in a devastating eagerness he didn't know how to control or fulfill.
Morpheus knew the rules. A relationship between a human and an Endless was strictly forbidden, and he had witnessed the terrible consequences of such a mistake firsthand. His love and obsession for the girl he once fell for had mattered more to him than the tragedies she was forced to endure because of their choices. His selfishness had led to her complete downfall and his inevitable heartbreak.
For this reason alone, he had no intention of crossing that line again and causing you the same harm.
Morpheus found you through your dream, smelling the salt in the air and hearing the sound of the ocean moving peacefully back and forth with gentle waves. You were as beautiful as an angel, with the breeze blowing through your hair and your dress flowing around your body. He wanted to call your name, to let you know that he was free and right by your side, but he was so mesmerized by the way you walked to the shore that he wanted to imprint such a piece of art into his memory for eternity.
When your eyes met, Morpheus realized that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to escape from your grasp. He had been in love so many times he lost count, but none of those feelings could compare to the spiritual link he had formed with you. It was different, it was new, it was unique.
He wondered why you were so special, how a simple human could be as gentle and compassionate as a Goddess. Morpheus asked himself over and over again why he couldn't let you be, forgetting about ever meeting you, as his realm needed to be rebuilt in the process.
No, he had absolutely no intention of touching you the way he did, kissing you, caressing you, and pleasuring your body over and over again through the night. However, his resistance crumbled when he felt the warmth of your body pressing against him, inebriated by the sweetness of your loving strokes along his face. He needed to reward you and a simple kiss would be enough for him. Just a quick, small, innocent kiss before taking his leave of you.
But then he wanted more. More than he could ever offer anyone else, more than he could ever ask to receive. Your boldness caught him off guard as you crashed your lips against his the moment he reluctantly released you, invading his mouth in search of his tongue and desperately seeking his closeness. Morpheus always wanted to be in control, but with you, he felt like he could let you do anything you wanted, and he would be the happiest living creature in the entire universe.
Morpheus wasn't one to have sex without being emotionally involved, so the physical intimacy he shared with you left a permanent mark on his heart. The fact that you wanted to see him again, not only in your dreams but also in the Waking World, was a big red flag he knew he couldn't just avoid. He needed to keep you safe, and the only way to grant you a good life would be to get out of it.
Unfortunately, just like in the past, he failed to find the will to do so.
As soon as he sent Matthew your way, Morpheus almost expected to find your dead body lying on the ground. He could barely contain the relief that washed over him when he saw you sitting on that bench, more radiant than ever, with the most beautiful smile he could witness. He stared at your image carved perfectly by the galactic spiral onto the starry ceiling above him, every curve of your body beautifully shaped.
You were a dream, his dream, one he didn't want to ever lose. So he had instructed Matthew to follow you in the Waking World, to observe everything around you and keep him informed of the slightest change when he couldn't take a look himself. Maybe it was too soon for the consequences of his mistake to befall on you, or maybe, after 10,000 years, the universe had finally decided to put that clause aside.
Didn't he deserve to be happy at least for once in his eternal existence? Couldn't he be free to fall in love without bringing death and sorrow to the one he cared about?
Something told him that things with you were about to take a different turn, one he had never seen before. Was he brave enough to risk it again, when the solution to the problem would be just so easy? All it took was an action, one that he didn't really want to take, and that would shatter two hearts at the same time.
Morpheus walked back to the throne room with that thought in mind as the images from your night together continuously played before his eyes. The King of Dreams and Nightmares was literally daydreaming about the human he had fallen in love with, fighting the rising urge to bring you to his castle and ravage your delicious body again without any inhibition left.
He watched you from afar as you moved about the kitchen, gathering the mugs and dishes together from the table. Your voice echoed in the room, distant but clear, and your melodic laugh brought a tiny smile to his pouty expression. The nebula followed your movements, highlighting your contours whenever you stopped and occasionally turned towards him - Matthew - to let him catch a glimpse of the mundane yet stunning display.
Morpheus couldn't help but feel a sense of longing as he watched you, and for a moment, he forgot about the responsibilities that came with his position. He wanted nothing more than to be by your side, to see your smile up close and to hear your laughter fill the air.
"My Lord," Lucienne called for Morpheus' attention as she entered the room.
"What is it, Lucienne?" He asked, turning to the librarian.
"It is about the woman, sir. The human you are watching."
"What about her?"
He could spot the hesitation in her eyes. "There is something you should know. Something I haven't told you before."
Morpheus felt the uneasiness forming in his stomach. "Go on,” he urged her.
Lucienne raised her hands and gestured as she spoke. "She was here. I found her in this room not long ago, when you were still imprisoned."
"What?" Morpheus exclaimed in shock. "How is that possible?”
"I do not know, my Lord," Lucienne replied, looking troubled. "But I saw her with my own eyes. She was standing right where you are now.”
Morpheus felt a chill run down his spine. He already knew that you had established a sudden connection with his realm as you struggled to remember the things you had witnessed in your newly discovered dreams. But how could you even reach his castle uninvited, with the Dreaming completely torn apart without his lead?
"I must warn you. There is something about her that seems... different.”
"Different?" Morpheus repeated, his curiosity piqued. "How?"
"I am not sure, sir," Lucienne admitted. "But her presence here felt almost otherworldly. Not dangerously so, just unlike any other human I have ever seen in this realm."
Morpheus fell silent, lost in thought. He shifted his gaze back to your image in the galaxy and couldn't shake the feeling that there was indeed more to you than met the eye.
It seemed like he had found something out of the ordinary in the end, and that something was you; an intricate mystery that he intended to investigate.
You didn't even realize how quickly time was passing. The hours flew by as you laughed, talked, and enjoyed yourself without a care in the world. Matthew left at night, fluttering his wings before leaping from the dining table to the open window. You watched him fly into the clouds until he was nothing more than a distant dot fading away.
As your eyes started to droop, you suppressed a yawn and began to clean out the kitchen, stretching your legs to get some blood flowing. Finally, when your back hit the mattress of your bed, exhaustion made its way through your body. That day you had walked for so long that the soft, welcoming covers felt amazing under your feet.
You rubbed your wrist with slow circles, pressing your thumb over the nerves that no longer hurt as much as before, but still made you flinch after a wrong movement. When you massaged your upper arms in a soothing manner, you could feel the skin around the healed cuts lightly scraping your palms. The three months you had spent working at Fawney Rig now felt like a distant memory, as if it had happened in another life.
You breathed in and out slowly, relaxing your senses and listening to the chatterings outside, the cars moving, the doors in your building opening and closing with people coming and going.
And then, those common, urban noises molded into something else, as the familiar sound of waves hitting the shore started to fill your ears.
When you opened your eyes, you were standing on the same beach you had dreamed about the previous night, looking exactly as you remembered it. You could even spot the crystallized shell a few feet away, sparkling and calling out to you, umoved.
And so you reached it again, brushing your fingers over the hard surface, sliding over each little crystal and strong ridge. A part of you wished you could keep it, placing it on your bedside table to admire it before going to sleep and waking up in the morning. At that moment, the colors transitioned in a gradient loop from pink to purple to light blue, resembling the color scheme of an LED lamp, except that the natural masterpiece in your hands held no artificiality.
You admired it one last time and placed it back into the sand. Your gaze then shifted to the calm ocean and the sky above, which blended into a carpet of stars and nebulas. It was as if the sun was setting behind the sea line, yet the time of day remained frozen in a permanent spectacle, combining day and night into one.
(Image generated with leonardo.ai)
As you stood up, you sensed someone approaching, and a pair of black shoes advanced into the golden grains. Your own boots partially sank into the ground with every step, and the new gown you were wearing danced around your legs with the wind blowing through the fabric.
The beach seemed to come alive at his arrival, the sand parting and forming a path for him to walk on. You watched in awe as Morpheus stopped in front of you, confident and proud, his eyes never leaving yours. He had a little smile on his lips, his presence commanding and powerful.
You looked up at him, feeling small and insignificant in his shadow, but at the same time, you felt a sense of comfort and familiarity.
"Hey stranger," you said fondly, bringing a hand over his chest and curling your fingers around the soft material of his coat. It was a repeated gesture that made you feel even more connected to his heart.
As he leaned close to you, his eyes sparkled in the starlight. "Hello," he answered, his voice shaking you in excitement like the first time you heard him speak.
"This place is so beautiful. There's still so much I don't know about the Dreaming or dreams themselves.”
Morpheus looked around, taking in the sights and sounds of the land. "Sleep brings you here to find freedom and adventure. My kingdom is a world of imagination, with dreams and nightmares that I create.”
“It all feels so real.”
"It is. There is another life which awaits you when you close your eyes and enter my realm.”
"I want to see more," you declared. "I've been wondering what dreaming felt like my entire life, now I don't want to miss any of it.”
You yearned to explore, experience and be inspired, to discover what laid beyond the corner of paradise you had found for yourself - a quiet place that seemed to be reserved just for you.
Morpheus interlaced his fingers with your hand, while it still clung onto his coat. He looked into your eyes, observing the anticipation growing on your face.
You waited for him to lead you, to guide you through his realm. The King of Dreams and Nightmares removed your hand from his chest, firmly enclosing it within his grasp.
"Follow me," he said.
"Where to?"
“Anywhere you wish to go."
In that moment, you realized that Morpheus was granting you the freedom to choose, allowing your imagination and desires to run wild.
You had barely begun to test the limits of your subconscious mind when the wind picked up and the world around you started to shift, reshaping your surroundings into something else.
What you saw was even better than the image that had crossed your mind. You were standing in a forest with the tallest trees you had ever seen in the Waking World, the green color of the leaves and bushes was incredibly beautiful, creating a vivid tone that went from dark to light. Sun rays passed through them and touched your faces gently, highlighting the contours of Morpheus’s jaw and giving his eyes an ethereal glow.
As you beheld the Endless being in front of you, you were struck silent, completely lost in his perfection. Hesitating momentarily, Morpheus gently brushed his fingers over the strand of hair that had fallen on your cheek, moving it out of the way to have a clear view of your features.
It felt like a scene straight out of a movie, and the urge to kiss him was building up inside you. Although you knew you were asleep, the dream felt way more realistic than any other fantasy you could remember. Despite a distant sense of confusion that threatened to cloud your mind, you managed to stay focused on the man you loved and chased it away, maintaining full control over a dream that would otherwise spiral into strange and confusing events.
You wanted to embrace him, to press your lips against his and relax in his arms, but the fear of being too clingy prevented you from taking the initiative. Since your relationship with Morpheus was yet to be defined, you didn't want to complicate things and ruin the moment with awkwardness. Instead, you held his hand tightly, savoring the warmth and comfort it brought you.
For a moment, you had the impression that the flowers at your feet were talking, whispering and giggling at the romantic display they were spectating, like an echo in the wind.
Reluctantly, you released his hand and took a step back, inspecting your new surroundings with curiosity. A massive, shiny rock was emerging from the ground next to you, with a few ivory white Moonstone crystals mounted on its surface. Each gemstone was a different size, with a magical blue flash of light that was twirling around in harmony. As you moved your fingers over the rock and followed the edges of the Moonstones, like you did with the shell, you felt their coldness beneath your touch.The energy they contained was so strong that you could feel the tingles on the back of your neck just by grazing their rough material. It was as if they held a secret, a powerful force that could unlock something from deep within you.
And so, you found yourself thinking out loud, "If someone had told me this was possible just a few months ago, I would have found it hard to believe.”
Morpheus came to your side, and as he did, the magical glow of the Moonstones immediately intensified, illuminating the surrounding area with a soft blue light.
"You were always connected to this place," he stated. "But without my guidance, the Dreaming stopped flourishing a century ago.”
His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you looked at him with guilt for what he had to endure.
"That's horrible. To think that something so beautiful has been shattered to pieces by humanity’s greed. History never taught us a damn thing," you blurted out in frustration.
Morpheus looked down, concealing the affliction of his captivity. “Mortals need this realm to face their fears and fantasies,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I agree, but that doesn’t excuse their actions. Roderick Burgess was a terrible person even before your imprisonment. He showed no mercy or compassion, not even to his own son. He only brought more corruption to a world that has been stained with arrogance and ignorance for as long as I can remember.”
Despite all the advancements that humans had made, there was still so much cruelty and injustice. Morpheus's misadventure with them was a reminder of that, and it made you question whether progress was even possible when the same mistakes were made time and time again.
Maybe humans truly needed a place to confront their deepest fears and desires, a space where they could learn from their blunders and strive towards a better future. Unfortunately, history books may have taught you otherwise, portraying the world as an unforgiving place with people that were inherently flawed.
"Perhaps," he replied. "But not all of you are Roderick Burgess.”
You let out a sigh. "There are still far too many like him out there, though. I do wonder what their dreams even look like.”
“They are haunted by their sins, trapped by their fear, and tormented by the nightmares that dwell within the blackest reaches of their hearts. Their dreams are filled with torment, with the twisted imaginings of twisted minds.”
Despite the somber subject matter, his eloquent explanation brought an unexpected smile to your face. As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but think that there was something undeniably attractive about the way he spoke. His voice was deep and resonant, with a hint of gravel that shook you from head to toe. It was a voice that commanded attention, that drew you in and held you captive.
"It was a rhetorical question, but I like the way you tell things.”
Morpheus smiled slightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It is rare for mortals to come to me seeking knowledge, rather than mere amusement. And it is indeed a most welcome change.”
“It’s not only knowledge that I am seeking. Like I said last night, I genuinely want to know more about you.”
Morpheus regarded you for a moment, his expression inscrutable. "There is much that I could tell you," he said at last. "But I fear that some of it might be beyond mortal comprehension.”
“I don't expect to understand all of it, but I want to at least learn what I can.”
Morpheus smiled again, this time with a hint of warmth. "Very well," he said. "Ask your first question.”
Your mind was brimming with questions, forming more and more the closer you got to him and farther into his realm. You wanted to choose them carefully because, no matter how intimate you might have grown, he remained a powerful being deserving of respect.
When you finally did, you formulated one. “I want to know what makes you who you are and what drives you forward.”
"What makes me who I am is a question that has troubled even the wisest of mortals. I am a being of many faces, many forms, and as you know, many names.” He paused, his gaze turning inward. "As for what drives me forward, it is my duty as the King of Dreams and Nightmares. The responsibility to maintain the delicate balance between the Waking World and the realm of dreams.”
"That sounds like a heavy burden."
Morpheus nodded, his expression somber. "It is one that I have carried for eons, and I will continue to bear it for as long as I am needed,” he replied.
"Have you been around for that long?"
"Yes. I have existed since the dawn of time, since the first stars shone in the night sky. I was there at the beginning of all things, and I shall be there at the end. I am a timeless force, a manifestation of the universe's infinite mysteries, a guardian of all that is, and all that may be."
It was indeed hard to comprehend the vastness of his existence and the scope of his power.
"I have seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations, the ebb and flow of time itself. And yet, there is always more to learn, more to discover,” Morpheus said.
You leaned forward. "Can you give me an example?”
"The mysteries of the human mind. But beyond that, I have also learned that even the most powerful beings are not immune to pain and suffering. As guardians of the universe, it is our duty to ease that suffering wherever we can.”
In that poignant moment, the tidal wave of understanding washed over you. The torment he went through for an entire century was something he had never experienced before, something that had left him completely destroyed, empty, and drained of all he was.
The memory of the desperation you had seen etched on his face that first night at Fawney Rig was still fresh in your mind. You would never forget it.
"You deserved better than that," you said softly, your heart breaking at the memory. You reached out to take his hand again, offering what little comfort you could give him. Your touch was gentle, like that of a butterfly's wings, but it carried with it a weight of empathy that only comes from knowing the depths of another's suffering. “You deserve everything.”
Morpheus swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tried to find the words to respond. His eyes glistened in the blue glow that pulsed from the Moonstones.
He moved another stray hair away from your eyes, lowering his forehead over yours with disarming tenderness. "I am Dream of The Endless, Y/N. I already have the universe."
You chuckled, feeling his breath on your skin. "Then you deserve something even greater, how about that," you said, your voice filled with conviction.
Morpheus smiled at your exclamation. "Your words honor and humble me.”
“I mean it.”
Morpheus bent his head down, and his lips gently brushed against yours in a kiss that neither of you could resist sharing. As soon as your mouths touched, the Moonstones reacted with an explosion of light, illuminating the space around you in a dazzling array of colors. Another rush of wind pushed you even closer to his chest, as if the Dreaming was trying to keep you united, granting you its blessing.
Time seemed to stand still. The only thing that mattered was the feel of his soft lips on yours, the warmth of his embrace and the beat of your hearts.
When the kiss ended, you struggled to restrain yourself from moving things forward a second time, wanting to stay lost in the moment with Morpheus forever. You allowed him to detach from you without trying to stop him, and with your hand still linked to his, he resumed the previous conversation naturally. "Ask your second question," his voice calm and steady.
You took a deep breath, trying to focus your mind on something other than the intensity of your connection with the Endless. “‘It is our duty as guardians’, you said. You’re not the only Endless being, are you?”
"No,” he confirmed. “I have siblings, each of them with a kingdom of their own and a role to fulfill.”
“Can you tell me more?”
He nodded. "There is Death, my sister. She is the one who greets the souls of the departed and guides them on their journey to The Sunless Lands. There is Desire, who shapes the passions and deepest needs of mortals. There is Delirium, who embodies the wild, unpredictable nature of madness. There is Destiny, who holds the Book of Fate and knows the path that every living being will take. There is Despair, who feeds on the pain and suffering of others. And then there is me, Dream of the Endless, ruler of the Dreaming.”
You listened with lit up interest as Morpheus spoke of his family, a group of eternal and immortal beings with immense power and influence. Each one was unique, with their own personalities and domains to control.
But there was something off about such family story that made you feel unsure and extremely bewildered.
"Wait. Why didn't any of your siblings ever come to your rescue, then?" you asked.
As Morpheus pondered your question, you could see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "We do not leave our kingdoms unattended unless it is strictly necessary," he explained.
“You were imprisoned. That is strictly necessary to me.”
His discomfort became more apparent. Nevertheless, he continued to speak. "It was not their burden to take. It was mine alone.”
Although the family of the Endless was not as typical as a human group, it was difficult to understand how a sibling could abandon any of them like they did with Morpheus. Despite knowing very little about the Endless, it was clear that their lack of intervention had left him feeling lonely and afflicted.
You were not looking forward to seeing him upset. You wanted him to smile, to feel loved, supported and appreciated for what he did. You had no intention of rubbing salt into a fresh wound.
And so, you felt the need to express your utmost apology. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Please, do not apologize. Your concern flatters me,” he replied. “My siblings and I… we have not always seen eye to eye. But I have learned to accept their ways, as I do have mine.”
You pressed your lips together, savoring his taste that lingered on your mouth. Your hand slipped away, sweetly closing around two of his cold fingers.
"Okay. I might have a third question. Will you answer it?"
He responded without any hesitation. "Yes.”
"How does it work when I dream? Do I just come up with a visualization, and it automatically materializes itself?"
"Dreams are a complex creation of the subconscious mind, and they can take on various forms and meanings. While some humans may have the capability of shaping their dreams as they please, maintaining this level of control requires a certain power that only I possess.”
You grinned. "So if I think about something, can you create it for me?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Creating dreams and nightmares is my calling. What is it that you wish to receive?”
Although you were an adult now, the inner child within you still sparkled, perpetually tied to a creative imagination that had kept you safe during the hardest times of your life.
You thought that what you were about to say might be seen as ridiculous, something that even he could consider futile and nonsensical. But the moment that thought formed perfectly in your head, Morpheus smiled proudly and lifted his gaze to the sky, without needing your verbal explanation.
A gust of wind burst around you, and you turned on your heels to check the source of such a brutal force. You were left speechless as you stared at the giant figure landing on the ground, spreading its wide wings and almost darkening the sky above. The scales were a mix of green and gold, refracting the sunlight and shimmering like precious jewels. The neck was long, and the head looked as big as half of your body.
You were in shock, slowly walking towards the dragon, carefully placing one foot in front of the other to test its reaction. The creature didn't seem to have bad intentions. If anything, it bowed its head as if it was kneeling in your presence.
You continued to advance until you got close enough to feel its hot breath against you, carefully lifting one hand to touch its muzzle. The skin felt incredibly warm and much softer than you had anticipated. The dragon closed its golden eyes at the contact, which gave you a very content smile.
You looked at Morpheus, who was standing with his hands crossed in front of him a few steps away. The little curve of his lips betrayed satisfaction for a job well done.
"Now you're flexing," you stated with a smirk. He only responded with a chuckle through his nose.
As you kept moving your hand on the dragon’s head, you could feel your heart beating ever faster from the amount of wonder shaking your entire form. It was something that exceeded the simple fantasy of a child coming true, an old dream that you once had with open eyes.
No, it was far more than that. It was the realization of Dream's power, the things he did for humanity despite how unkind your race had been in his presence.
Waking up feeling like something was amiss, facing darkness whenever you closed your eyes at night, a world without dreams was a condemnation you had gone through first-hand. You never lost your sense of justice and the kindness your father had taught you, but it still plagued the unlucky ones and continued to spread through generations for over 100 years.
Standing there before a dragon that you could touch and physically perceive, you let your emotions flow all at once: happiness, relief and completion.
Morpheus came to your side, and as soon as you moved away from the creature, the majestic animal took flight again, lifting up into the vastness of the dream world with a booming roar.
When you faced the Endless once more, you were overcome by that familiar, strong impulse that forced you onto your toes. You planted a kiss on his cheek and curled into him, wrapping your arms strongly around his neck, as if you were afraid to see him disappear.
“Thank you,” you whispered in his ear. “Thank you for existing, Morpheus.”
Those moments with him were fleeting, and soon you would be back in the Waking World all by yourself. You didn't want to let him go.
Morpheus didn't speak, but after a moment of surprise and indecision, he brought his hands to your waist and held you gently.
The words 'I love you' were on the tip of your tongue and you wanted him to hear them. "What am I to you?" you wished you could ask. "What are we?”
In the end, you chose not to reveal your true feelings just yet. Although he may have already known, you needed it to unfold without turning the gears in a way that could simply backfire.
His touch on you was shy, fingers drawing little patterns on the fabric of your dress without even moving from their position. The subtle movement of his fingertips against your covered skin was enough to send new electric shocks along your form.
And then you let your arms fall down as your hands followed the line of his shoulders and traveled along his biceps. There was something incredibly soothing in the way he seemed to relax as you touched him.
However, that didn’t last.
"Y/N."
"Mh?"
"Lucienne informed me about your visit to my castle.”
The way his voice sounded was so suddenly serious that for a moment, you thought he wasn't happy about it. Did he feel like you invaded his space, which was even reduced to a pile of crumbles at the time? The magical sparks between you started to dissipate, and the mere idea of him being resentful with you had your stomach twisting into a tight knot.
"About that. I still don't know how I did it.”
Morpheus considered your answer, but when he said nothing, the need to justify yourself painfully nagged at you. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude. I couldn’t even tell where I was until she told me.”
“You misunderstand me. I am not accusing you of such a thing.”
Morpheus's statement was like a soothing balm, relieving your worries and easing your nervousness. You released a deep sigh, and in response, you managed a timid "Oh.”
“I suspect that our… indisputable connection might have granted you access to places that are normally out of reach for most mortals.”
Your mind went back to the basement when your hands indirectly touched through the glass for the first time. Your dreams had started after that specific moment, leaving you with distant fragments that could barely be remembered upon waking up, until he was finally released.
“I suppose that makes sense,” you replied.
“Yes. And I believe that Lucienne is not the only subject you have encountered.”
You nodded in agreement. “Able and Cain.”
“Correct.”
“Does it bother you? That I have explored parts of your realm when I was not supposed to?”
You tried to decipher Morpheus's expression, but after a moment of consideration, he shook his head slightly. "It is not ideal for mortals to roam the Dreaming in my absence. But, I do not hold it against you.”
"I would never want to disrespect you," you said softly, offering him a small smile.
(Gif from Tumblr, found via Pinterest. If you happen to be the owner, or you know who made it, please notify me.)
Morpheus returned it, his eyes warm and reassuring. "It is my duty to guide and protect you in the Dreaming, and I will continue to do so to the best of my abilities."
While you knew that others could also enter Morpheus's realm and see him appear in a dream, you couldn't help but feel possessive when he spoke to you with such a glint in his eyes. You also understood that you could not keep him all to yourself, as all of humanity was under his care from the beginning of time. His touch made you feel special and grounded, but you were aware that Morpheus had influenced countless minds throughout the ages, and you certainly wouldn't be his last conquest.
Even though it may sound selfish and immature, you found it a little difficult to accept.
You gently took one of his hands from your waist, bringing it up to your lips to kiss his cool knuckles. As you released him from your grasp and resisted the urge to cling to him, you lifted your dress from the ground to walk more easily. "Would you care to take a stroll with me, Your Majesty?"
Morpheus’s smile grew wider than ever before. "It would be my pleasure," he answered, extending his arm out for you to take.
As you accepted his offer, he led you through the wonders of the dreamworld, passing through the vastness and magic of its many pathways. You saw the most unique flowers and creatures you could ever imagine in your waking life, as well as trees with all kinds of shapes and shades. You walked for so long that you couldn't tell how much time had passed since you fell asleep in your bed, but the longer you stayed in the Dreaming, the more you felt like you belonged.
Morpheus had told you different stories about his adventures, and you couldn't hide your surprise when you found out that William Shakespeare himself became the greatest playwright in history solely because of the inspiration he received from the King of Dreams. You were passionate about his tales and eager for more, wondering how many important individuals he had come across before you were even born.
Eventually, you asked him about Matthew, specifically avoiding mentioning Jessamy for the sake of his mood. He appeared to be quite reluctant to tell you the reason behind the raven’s appearance in the Waking World, only mentioning that it would be a story for another night. His reaction seemed strange to you, but you decided not to pry and dropped the subject altogether. You were learning to know him just as you wanted, and it was easy for you to declare that Morpheus was the most enigmatic man (well, creature) you had ever set your eyes upon.
It didn't really bother you. In fact, his mysterious demeanor only served to add to his allure and attracted you more and more with each passing moment. In the presence of Morpheus, you didn't feel unsure or doubtful about what was to come, but the battle between your gut instincts and your restless heart was keeping you on edge.
You couldn't help but wonder what secrets Morpheus was keeping from you, but for the time being, you were content to bask in the thrill of the unknown and his presence by your side.
The sky began to shift to a darker color until the light of the sun gave way to a sea of stars and northern lights. You walked along a bridge large enough for the two of you to walk side by side, while the surrounding waters enchanted you with the sound of calm waves rolling back and forth.
The stars above shone like diamonds in the night sky, while the lights roiled around in a mesmerizing display of colors. But despite the enchanting scenery you were stepping in, your attention was still drawn to Morpheus and the way he moved with otherworldly grace. You studied him closely, taking note of every detail - the way his hair caught the light, how his eyes sparkled with an inner fire, and how his voice carried a hint of magic.
As the bridge came to an end, Morpheus paused, gazing out at the infinite expanse of water before you. You unlinked your arm from his, taking a few steps forward to watch the distance. A thick layer of fog obscured whatever was lying ahead, leaving you feeling excited and apprehensive.
"Where are we?" you asked him, kneeling on the wooden planks and carefully touching the water surface with your fingertips. To your surprise, you felt the water respond, moving around your hand and seeming to enjoy the contact.
"This place is yet another aspect of the Dreaming," he replied cryptically. "It exists between your world and mine, where the boundaries of dreams and reality are blurred.”
As you looked into the waters, you could see a few distant images playing in sequence, like another world set in motion at the other side of a mirror. It was both beautiful and eerie.
"Those are dreams of other mortals," Morpheus explained. "We are at a crossroad.”
Suddenly, a fuzzy feeling began to creep into your mind, intensifying as you tried to shake it off. You knew very well what it was, and you didn’t like it one bit.
"You are waking up," Morpheus stated matter-of-factly.
You stood back on your feet, your hand instantly drying. "I don't want to leave just yet.”
"Do not resist, Y/N. I will see you again.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
As he lightly pushed you to the front of the bridge, the waters in front of it parted like the Red Sea with Moses, forming a flight of stairs that he started to descend. Seeing your uncertainty, Morpheus reassured you with a light squeeze around your shoulder. "Fear not, you are safe with me.”
After a moment of disorientation, you nodded your head and followed him down the dark road that had formed. The freshness of the water around you sent chills down your back, but at the same time, it felt invigorating against your skin. As you reached the bottom, Morpheus stopped next to you, turning you around to meet your eyes one last time. You had so much you wanted to tell him, but you felt yourself fading away the more you tried to talk, and the waters started to close around you. You could barely register his lips brushing against your cheek before he moved his hand in front of you, waving it slowly from your right to your left.
"This dream is over.”
The morning sun hit your face with its warmth and brightness. You squinted and covered your face with the back of your arm, breathing in and out a few times to steady yourself and fully recover from your sleepiness. A deep yawn escaped you, and you shifted around a few times, enjoying the softness of the mattress and pillows beneath you.
You let your mind wander back to the dream world, to every single detail of what you had experienced with Morpheus, the things he showed you, and what you had learned about him and his family. To you, it seemed like you had been away for a long time, and returning to your regular life was almost unnatural. Dreams were complex and ever-changing things, offering a window into the subconscious and a gateway to escape. The Dreaming was a place where time had no meaning, and in which those lost in sleep could find peace and salvation from their waking nightmares through infinite possibilities.
You stretched your limbs and pushed up into a sitting position. You massaged your neck, eyelids, temples, and lower back to soothe the aching of stiff muscles, your eyes finally adjusting to the light.
You noticed something unusual on your nightstand — a big, sparkling object that surely wasn't there before. When you turned to take a better look at it, your breath caught in your throat at what you saw. You blinked a few times, and in disbelief, you pinched yourself to ensure that you weren't still asleep.
The shell from your dream was right there, glittering under the sun's rays, as if it had always been a part of your home decor. For a closer inspection, you took it between your hands and felt its weight, the coldness of the surface as real as ever against your palms.
You turned it around, just like you did on the dream seashore, outlining each detail with fascination and astonishment. You had believed that everything encountered in a dream would remain just that, unable to cross between the worlds. But now that Morpheus was becoming less of a mystery and more of a certainty, you could tell that with the ruler of the Dreaming, anything impossible could become possible.
You laughed to yourself in utter delight, placing the shell back onto the nightstand and staring at it for a long time before getting out of bed. As you prepared a quick breakfast, turned on the radio, and resumed your morning routine, you didn't realize that something equally remarkable had happened the moment you woke up. It took you about an hour to notice that something about you had changed, and the moment you looked at your own image in the bathroom mirror, your eyes widened in shock at what it was reflecting back at you.
The scars on your arms had completely disappeared.
You had to look down at your skin, touching it a few times, to understand that it wasn't just your mind playing tricks on you. You reached for your upper back and moved your fingers where the glass piece had previously pierced you, but even there, your body was immaculate.
And then you rotated your wrist, once, twice, over and over again, bending and pulling it to test its resistance. Nothing. No pain, no tingling sensation, no funny feeling. Just a completely healed, perfectly healthy wrist.
A part of you wanted to cry for how absolutely incredible you felt about it all. Morpheus had given you so many gifts that you didn't know how you could even repay him. As a human, you didn't really have much to offer him. An endless being who owned the entire universe could never ask for anything, but there was still a hint of loneliness in him that you desperately wanted to alleviate.
You loved him, but you weren't sure if he felt the same way about you. He was an eternal being with countless ages ahead, and the time spent with you would just be a tiny fragment in the vast expanse of his infinite existence.
And yet, a voice in your head kept telling you to persist, to be there for him because he needed you more than anything else. Relationships had never worked out in your favor, but maybe that was for a reason. Perhaps you were meant for something greater, for someone better. A man who could offer you more than an entire world and treat you like a queen in two different dimensions.
You felt a little ashamed thinking about it. How could you expect a literal God, the King of Dreams, to choose a mere mortal from the Waking World, when he could easily pick any Goddess of equal power?
You told that to yourself as your heart betrayed you, whispering from the depths of your soul and pleading for you to stop. Coincidentally, the next song that played on the radio as you put on your makeup and prepared for the day was "Que Sera, Sera" by Doris Day. They say that the universe may speak to you through subliminal messages or hints that you need to interpret. Whatever it was trying to tell you in that moment, you decided to accept the advice and put your overthinking aside, allowing the natural course of things to continue without any interference.
You smiled at your reflection with that thought in mind, grabbed your bag, and turned the key into the door's lock.
Visiting the Dreaming served to raise the bar of your inspiration even higher. It was hard to tell whether it was Morpheus's influence or the dreamworld alone that was responsible. But as you sat at the New Inn, you let your hand move uninterrupted on your sketchbook.
You had invited Hob out for brunch, but he was completely swamped with work and had to politely decline. At that point, the owner knew you so well that nobody paid any mind to you occupying a table indefinitely. As a regular customer, you always made sure to order something every now and then during your stay, and the workers there had started showing interest in your drawings, which only served to boost your confidence. You had been building your portfolio like a madwoman, always using every bit of free time to complete new projects and bring your ideas to life, no matter if it meant breaking away from the original consistency. You had decided to overcome your boundaries and allowed your creativity to spring free.
In the afternoon, you left the inn to visit your father a few blocks away, relieved to be able to walk there instead of taking a cab and traveling for miles.
Your pace increased as you stared at your wristwatch and crossed the various sidewalks. The streets were particularly lively with the sunny weather, so you had to carefully avoid bumping into the many passersby along the way.
Unfortunately, you didn’t notice the man that was pacing in your direction and appeared in front of you, crashing against his chest and stumbling backward as your bag flew to the ground. The closed zipper prevented it from spilling out all the contents inside, but you had to pray that the screen of your phone didn't crack.
A hand pressed on your lower back, steadying you the moment you faltered on your feet. When you looked up, you noticed a pair of round and black eyeglasses covering the man’s eyes, with the thickest lenses you had ever seen anyone carrying around. His hair was blond, much shorter on the sides and perfectly combed to the back on top. He wore a light grey jacket, a white button-up shirt with a high collar, and a pair of black trousers matched with dark polished shoes.
His expression was blank, difficult to decipher. But then his lips curved into a mischievous smile, one that paralyzed you on the spot.
"I'm sorry," you said nervously. "I should pay more attention to where I’m walking.”
One could say that a man like him was the apotheosis of sexiness, with such a striking elegance and a smile to die for. But to you, things felt suddenly out of place, and you could sense that there was an uncommon aura emanating from him.
"It's alright," he answered, helping you to your feet and removing his hand so slowly that you had the impression he was trying to feel you. "The important thing is that you are okay. You didn't get hurt, did you?”
His voice was coarse and slightly deep with a note of allure. At the same time, it served to make you even more anxious in his presence.
“I’m fine,” you replied. “Are you?”
The corners of his lips raised up even more, and you could see his perfectly white teeth gleaming under the sunlight.
“I am,” he nodded. “But please, let me help you.”
The man bent down to grab your bag from the asphalt, blowing some dirt off of it and carefully brushing the leather with the back of his hand. There was a strange sense of familiarity, as the same energy that generally came from Morpheus was spreading in the air around you. But it was a lot darker and way more negative, making you feel extremely cold inside.
When he was done, he gave you the bag back, scrutinizing your face from behind his glasses.
"Thank you," you said, taking your bag and hastily securing it over your shoulder. "And again, I'm really sorry for bumping into you, sir."
Casting your eyes to the ground, you stepped forward and past him without waiting for his reply. However, to your dismay, his strong hand stopped you before you could cross the street. He kept you in place by the arm, his breath on your hair.
Was he actually smelling you, or were you imagining things…?
"No need to rush away," he told you, his grip on your arm loosening. "After all, I am the one who should apologize. Allow me to make up for it with a drink. Do you like Whisky?”
There was definitely something off about that man, but you were unsure if he was being nastily flirty or if there was something much worse going on that couldn't be spotted by the naked eye.
You forced a smile, trying to get out of that awkward situation in the most peaceful and polite way possible.
“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m really in a rush right now,” you said.
You hoped that would be enough to convince him, but instead, he brought his face even closer to yours. “I insist,” he murmured in your ear.
Irritation and impatience started to build up inside of you. "Look, I don't want to be rude, but I am expected in a few minutes. So, if you'll excuse me.”
While you couldn't see his eyes, which somehow you were afraid to look at, you held the stare as he processed your rejection. You could see that he wasn't pleased, breathing in through his nose and pressing his lips together. Finally, he let go of your arm completely, took a step back, and raised his hands in surrender. "Don't let me keep you, then. Maybe another time.”
The man stayed there, but you didn't want to wait for his next move. With a final, very tight smile, you turned on your heels and went down your path, crossing the street as fast as you could and disappearing into the crowd on the other side.
You didn't see the Nightmare biting his lower lip, smirking in satisfaction, and nodding his head in silence.
Author's notes:
• I generally do not stand for AI generators, as they take away the work from real artists (either with the generations themselves that take bits from existing artworks, or people selling AI art without any efforts). However, I think it can be useful for personal purposes and I like to play around with it to make quick concepts that might help me better showcase what I'm writing about.
• The importance of the phrase "You are not all Roderick Burgess" is there to capture the development that Morpheus is already going through in this initial phase. As we all know, in episode 3 he was about to leave Rachel to her consumption, to a slow suffering and upcoming death. He decided to help her because Johanna reminded him of his intention to save humanity, and that means he should also be a little more compassionate since his own sand put the girl into that state. When Morpheus told Johanna "You are not Roderick Burgess", he clearly wanted to let her know that he learned the lesson and that he shouldn't consider all humans the same. For this reason, I wanted Morpheus to tell this to the Reader as well, also as a reminder to himself.
• Morpheus has a lot of secrets, and right now Reader doesn't know half of the things he's done and went through. In the next chapter she will definitely learn about Nada, but most likely, he will also confess what happened with Calliope and Orpheus. One way or another, every single lover has left him, so let's see if Reader will be an exception... 👀
• In the comics, the Corinthian is 100% homosexual. In the TV show, Gaiman apparently stated that the character is pansexual, although it is clear that he still has a preference for men. At the end of this chapter, he wasn't really trying to get laid with the Reader, but he is known to use his charm and sex appeal to draw his victims in to get what he wants (he just seems rather flirty by nature; even with The Good Doctor, he always had that charming attitude and he tried to use the same tricks with Miss Rubio to locate Jed). Also, I see him smelling Reader's hair as a way to taste her fear. He's a nightmare after all, one that likes to toy with his victims. However, he may have found quite a challenging human this time around. Oops, sorry Cory.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7 (currently reading)
Go to Chapter 8 ->
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Ko-Fi
#the sandman#the sandman morpheus#dream of the endless#morpheus x reader#the sandman morpheus x reader#dream of the endless x reader#story: let your dreams be your wings#the sandman fic
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💕Couple of RP Ideas💕
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Hello, I am looking for new rp partners! As such, I have a few ideas (both fandom and fandomless) in mind. A little bit about me is that I am 19, female, and write semi-literate to literate. Usually, I write a paragraph or more, but it all really depends on what you write.
Somethings to keep in mind:
- I do enjoy darker plots. So keep that in mind as you continue to read.
- NSFW is absolutely welcome, I just don't want that to be the main focus.
- If you are busy or something, please just keep me in the loop!
- I love throuple/poly couple scenarios. If you find that odd or weird that is perfectly fine! I am probably just not the rp partner for you.
- Please don't give me a dead-end response. Most of my responses rely on character interaction and as such, please don't make it to where our characters can't interact or where their interaction is limited. I will just not respond after.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Fandom
- I only do double-ups as far as oc x cc goes! I am okay with cc x cc and oc x cc but don't really do oc x oc for frandoms.
- For now, I will just add the fandoms I am in and we can talk about pairing later!
♥ Helluva Boss
♥ Tokyo Ghoul
♥ My Hero Academia
♥ Demon Slayer
♥ Arcane
♥ The Hobbit/LOTR
♥ The Sandman
♥ Castlevania
♥ Ouran Highschool Host Club
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Fandomless
- I am okay with any gender pairing!
- I will elaborate more on plots and such if you are interested!
♥ Single vampire dad (me) x Human (you)
♥ Elemental Princess (me) x Loyal Gaurd (you)
♥ Moon Elf Princess (me) x Fantasy Creature (i.e elf, orc, etc) (You)
♥ Vampire Queen (me) x Human (you) x Vampire Queen's Wife (me)
♥ Excorcist/Priest (me) x Demon (you)
♥ Mafia Boss (me) x Their Spouse (you)
♥ Mafia Boss (me) x Your oc x Mafia Boss's Wife (me)
♥ Former Criminal (me) x Detective (you)
♥ Goddess (me) x Worrshipper (you)
♥ Demonic Priest (me) x Worshipper (you)
♥ Cult Leader (me) x Follower (you)
Of course, I have a lot more but these are the ones I am really looking to do!
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
give a like and anon will get back to you
#helluva boss rp#helluva boss roleplay#tokyo ghoul rp#tokyo ghoul roleplay#my hero academia roleplay#my hero academia rp#demon slayer roleplay#demon slayer rp#arcane roleplay#arcane rp#the hobbit rp#the hobbit roleplay#the sandman rp#the sandman roleplay#castlevania roleplay#castlevania rp#ouran high rp#ouran highschool host club rp#fandom roleplay#fandom rp#dead dove
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𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Thirteen
Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?
Warnings: Matthew Plays Reader’s Therapist (And Is Actually Helpful), Morpheus Still Refuses to Answer Reader’s Questions (Reader Get’s Pissed Off), Tension, Reader Tries to Pick A Fight With Morpheus (Key Word: Tries).
To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).
Word Count: ~2.6k
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Standing in the lavish hotel bathroom (how did the being even get a hotel room?), you stared at your hands which held absolutely no evidence of what had happened last night. Your fingernails were nice and rounded, not broken and bloody. You didn’t have micro cuts on your fingers. Your hands didn’t have deep gouges from crashing into the lamp… you didn’t have any evidence of the attacks from those hell beasts. Your mind liked to play tricks on you, but you could feel the physical difference this time. You had been healed but by what? Dream? What were his intentions then? He didn’t seem to be a being that did something like that without an ulterior motive. Shifting your gaze from your hands, you looked at the octagonal-shaped ruby hanging around your neck, sparkling with inner magic you could feel humming from where it was pressed against your bare skin.
“Unless you wish to be hunted by the hell beasts again, I advise against taking the ruby off.”
Dream’s— Morpheus’s— words hadn’t been entirely reassuring and you wanted to ask what he meant by that or at least question what the ruby did. But you had chickened out and fled to the bathroom for a moment of privacy from the Endless and his talking raven, Matthew. Matthew, the talking raven… you were giving yourself a headache just thinking about it despite knowing that there were stranger things in The Dreaming. Reaching for the ruby, you brushed your fingers over the gemstone, feeling the tickle of energy buzzing into your fingers. The ruby felt alive.
Sand, Ruby, Helm.
Those tools were gone, you knew that much from reading Roderick’s journal. Morpheus would be wanting those back and you suppose that was exactly what he was doing at the moment. But why bring you along for the ride? You shook your head and slapped your cheeks. Best not to get into an Endless’s business, be smart about this, Y/N. Reset. Take stock of the situation. Come up with a plan. First things first, your current attire was far from appropriate and you felt entirely embarrassed standing in front of Morpheus and Matthew in it. Granted that dream you had of him when you fell asleep in the tub certainly exposed plenty and left you feeling a noxious draw to him, but you just felt too exposed at the moment. There was a knock at the door. Letting out a heavy sigh and rolling your eyes, you went to open the door. There was no one there, then you looked down.
Matthew was standing on the ground, a plastic bag hanging from his beak. He tilted his head at you. You could just barely see what looked like one of your shirts in the bag. Bending down, you took the bag from him.
“Thank you, Matthew,” You stated before closing the door in his face.
“Well at least I got a thank you,” You heard Matthew grumble before the sound of wings fluttering told you he had left. You returned to the bathroom counter and set the bag down, taking a peak at what was inside. It was one of your shirts, along with a pair of lounge shorts, underwear, and a bra. Your eyebrow went up.
“Gone through my underwear drawer have you, Matthew?” You questioned, pulling the clothing out.
“And I didn’t like it!” Matthew snapped from the other room, having heard your words. You couldn’t help the cheeky laugh that escaped your lips. Changing out of your nightgown, you dressed into comfortable lounge clothes and carefully folded your nightgown, placing it in the bag. Now wearing more modest clothes, you worked on getting your hair into a more manageable state. When your rat's nest was cleaned up and you felt that you were in a sort of normal state, you ventured from the bathroom. Morpheus was nowhere to be seen but Matthew was waiting for you on the back of the chair at the table. Walking over to the table, you set the bag on it before taking a seat and looking at the raven.
“Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?” Matthew blinked at you and fluttered his wings.
“Are you going to hit me with that book again? Because one, rude. Two, that hurt.” He asked, your eyes dropped to the book that rested on the table. It was the same book you had been reading last night… you looked back up at the raven.
“Don’t give me a reason to and we’ll get along fine.”
Matthew had explained as much as he could about why the hell beasts had been hunting you. Apparently, it was because you were bound to Morpheus and now one of his weaknessess because of it. Take you out you hurt him. Yet another reason for Morpheus to not like you, you were essentially a liability he was stuck with until you died of, hopefully, old age. At the moment you were waiting on the DoorDash order you had placed, your phone was among the things Matthew had grabbed from Fawny Rig. How he did with wings and a beak, you didn’t know nor cared. Since it was dinner time, and you being a decent human being, you had asked Matthew if he wanted you to order him anything. As it turned out, he was craving hot dogs so that’s what you had bought. One fully loaded hot dog for you and just a plain one for Matthew.
Morpheus hadn’t come back yet, Matthew explaining that he was on the hunt for his sand which was here in London. You were in the middle of a very boring game of I spy when room service dropped off your DoorDash order. Carrying the bag to the table, you dug into your hot dog, promising Matthew that you’d fix his when you were done eating. You wolfed down your hot dog, not leaving a crumb behind before taking out Matthew’s order. He hopped over to you in excitement. You hadn’t exactly thought about the logistics of how Matthew would eat it, but you figured that you could just tear it apart and feed it to him that way. So that’s what you did.
Your fingers picked apart the cold hot dog slowly, its juices coating your fingers. You then flicked a piece in the air and Matthew who had been watching you work away like a hawk, snapped it up with a croak of happiness.
“Are you actually tasting it or are you just taking pleasure in watching me feed you a hot dog?” You asked him, your eyes lifting from the half-torn hot dog. Matthew shifted his eyes to you and shuffled his wings.
“Believe it or not, this is incredibly pleasurable for me, and I am enjoying every bit of hot dog you are currently feeding me, ma’am,” Matthew responded, taking a few steps closer to your hands. “Just cause I’m a bird now doesn’t mean I can’t taste it… man, I miss hot dogs. Don’t even get me started on pizza.”
Your lips twitched and you threw him another piece. He happily snapped it up as you returned to picking the cold processed meat apart. While you continued to feed the elated bird, your thoughts wandered. Being bonded together aside, you didn’t know why he had taken you with him. You were a Burgess. One of the family members of the man who had taken his freedom for over a century. If anything, you expected him to have a severe dislike for you. Plus, it wasn’t like he needed you to stay bound to him and like you had thought earlier, you were a big, fat liability. Why would he want you around when your family was responsible for his condition?
“You know it’s not your fault.” You looked up to see Matthew studying you with his small black eyes. He hopped closer and picked at the hem of your shirt with his beak. “You didn’t even know about him until a month ago and we both know how unhappy you were when you found out. I mean the shouting match… wow, I’ve never heard a woman that mad before. Don’t even get me started on the axe… wish I could have seen that. Sounds kickass.”
“How do you know about that?” You questioned in confusion. Matthew gave you a bird’s form of a shrug.
“I’m connected to him now, ma’am. I see what he sees, and I can somewhat feel what he feels. Don’t ask me how this familiar shit works because I still don’t know and am new at this… but what happened isn’t your fault.”
“I would have tried to get him out sooner if I had known,” You replied honestly, your fingers ceasing their picking motions. “I’ve heard the stories of my great-grandfather; I just thought it was bullshit. I never thought there would be any truth to it. I had so many chances to go down into that basement, but I never tried to. If only I had—“ You paused and then sighed. “Doesn’t really matter now. The damage has been done.”
“That’s not true,” Matthew protested loudly, flapping his wings. “Granted I have no idea why he’s bringing you along when you had nothing to do with him except cracking him out of that prison… this is dangerous work… but I don’t think he holds any ill will for what your great grandpops did.” Matthew cocked his head and shuffled his feet. “Pretty sure it’s the opposite actually.”
Lifting the remaining piece of hot dog, you let Matthew take it from your fingers before reaching for a napkin and cleaning your fingers. You wanted to tell him that seeing him locked up in the basement wasn’t the first time you had seen him. You wanted to admit that you had so many dreams of Morpheus you thought you were going crazy when you actually came face to face with him. You wanted to admit that something in your gut had always been begging you to go to the manor and check out the basement you had always been told to stay out of for years. But you stayed silent and away like a good granddaughter. Always so obedient.
Somehow, someway, deep down you knew that something was going on between you and Morpheus, and he didn’t like it. It was a gut feeling you had that you knew to be true. Whatever magic Roderick had played with had done something to your family. You were forever marked by it, some connection that left you tied to Dream of the Endless. That damned bond. Morpheus was probably dragging you along to try and find a way to sever that connection, whatever the cost. He didn’t seem to like the fact that you were his. Then again, why get so pissy about you kissing others? He’d made it clear that you were his in that dream. You had no idea what to think. There was the sound of a door shutting and Morpheus strode into the bedroom, his face once again devoid of emotion. You straightened up in your seat as Matthew hopped across the table, coming to attention.
“How was your outing, sir?” He broached, cocking his head to the side before fluttering his way to the back of the chair next to you. “Did you convince her?”
“To a point,” Morpheus replied, coming to a stop next to the large window opposite the bed. He stared out into the night, half of his face highlighted by the moon. Your eyes traced his beautiful cheekbone before you managed to tear them away. “I’ll be retrieving it tomorrow. In the meantime, did you do as asked?”
“Of course,” Matthew said, dipping his head. “Left the message with Lucienne. Spent the last twenty minutes enjoying the hell out of my first hot dog since I died. Those things are damn delicious if I might say so.”
A black eyebrow rose, and silver blue eyes turned to you. You shifted your gaze away, not wanting to meet his electric gaze.
“DoorDash, the human does actually need to eat to live.” You stated crisply, annoyed with the fact that he had basically rescued you from certain death (and a rather painful one too) and then pissed off to somewhere else for an entire day leaving you to wonder what the hell was going on. You weren’t happy with him, he knew that. Finally, he spoke.
“Matthew, leave us,” Morpheus drew out. The raven looked between the two of you. He picked at the hem of your shirt.
“Try not to get too violent, I like having my boss in one piece.” You gave Matthew a withering look. “What? I saw what you did with that axe…” He then flew off, disappearing into the night sky.
“Should I be expecting violence from you this night?” Your eye twitched at his words and pushing back from your seat, you stood up and squarely faced him.
“I don’t know. Why am I getting ‘Me Tarzan. You Jane. My Banana!’ from you every time I kiss a guy I like!?”
His face didn’t deviate from his cool look but he did step right up to you, so you were chest to chest. You glared up at him. His blue eyes glimmered silver for a few moments, reminding you who you were prepared to go off on. An Endless.
“If I recall, we’ve already had this conversation, Y/N.” He told you, looking down at you with just a hint of a tug at the corner of his mouth. Oh yeah, you had this conversation. When you were naked, taking a bath, and of course, asleep. What was it he had said? ‘You are mine’ That most definitely did not count.
“That doesn’t count, and your answer wasn’t an answer.”
“It was, just not the one you were looking for.” This man, this being, is going to make you develop an eye tick. But he also made a flush simmer just beneath your skin. Your body knew what it wanted… but why him? Morpheus was beginning to vex you.
“You know what I want to know,” You hissed, raising your finger, and jabbing him in his chest with it. Damn it, his pectoral felt immaculate. Was there anything about him that wasn’t perfect? “Why won’t you tell me!? What am I to you? A pest? A problem? A minor inconvenience you must deal with until you figure out how to undo what Roderick did!?”
Morpheus didn’t answer you immediately, rather he gently took the hand of the finger you had pressed into his chest in his. His fingers wrapped around yours and slipped across your skin. His touch made little zips of lightning run down your arm. Morpheus’s head bent down, inching towards yours until you could feel that calming coolness his skin gave off once more.
“Tell me, Y/N,” He questioned, his voice whisper soft. You sucked in a breath, pressing your lips together. “Do you trust me?”
A shiver went up your spine and you were sure he had seen you tremble… and felt it as well. The proximity of your body made your heart start to beat faster and for a moment, you considered lying to him just to get an answer. No, at this point in your life you had no secrets. Not when he was always there in the back of your mind, watching over you. You dropped your eyes, no longer able to maintain that contact.
“No, you know I don’t trust anyone.” You responded equally as softly.
“There is no point in telling you if you do not trust me, little troublemaker,” Morpheus explained, gently stroking his thumb against the palm he still held. Your fingers twitched against his. You hated that he was right. “You know I have patience, I’m willing to wait as long as that may take.”
He had patience. He had all the time in the universe. He could wait.
But you didn’t.
Date Published: 9/26/22
Last Edit: 7/2/23
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#morpheus x reader#dream the endless x reader#dream of the endless x reader#morpheus#sandman x reader#lord morpheus#the sandman netflix#dream of the endless#dream the endless#the sandman
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✶ all playlists are on spotify.
fic inspired.
wicked game (joel miller)
romantic getaway (scott lang)
virus of the heart (joel miller)
heavy metal love (eddie munson)
call me lover (andy barber)
the art of a storm (bestfriendsdad!steve rogers)
(her) interlude (yelena belova, band au)
sweetman (jake 'hangman' seresin)
fandoms.
in love with a rich boy (ransom drysdale)
and he’s toxic (frank, endings beginings)
my beautiful beautiful makkari (eternals)
bruce wayne’s apple music account
in a toxic relationship with marc spector
summers with peter (tasm!peter parker)
a soft love with steven grant
getting high with peter (tasm!peter parker)
001’s favorite girl (henry creel)
sub!bruce wayne
songs eddie munson would [redacted] to
songs i’d drop it down to for joseph quinn
songs to gulp eddie’s fingers to (eddie munson)
a dream within a dream (morpheus)
my lucifer is lonely (lucifer, the sandman)
a party with desire (desire of the endless)
a god u party (gen v)
jordan li <3 (gen v)
tag team cocksplosion (jordan x marie)
i would eat your puke (sam x emma)
don’t be scared (jordan x marie)
#top4 (gen v)
little bad ass (emma meyer)
lost in saltburn (saltburn)
are you going to behave? (farleigh x oliver)
resourceful.
fight scene vibes
is it lust or love (for writing filth)
like lovers do (when you need a fluff boost)
heartbreak hotel (angst ain't gonna write itself)
that reading ambience
(lit)ature
miscellaneous.
the female gaze
the culture
we saw you from across the bar
unhinged homely men
bimbocore
regency daydreams
springcore
suns out tits out
he’s a murderer!
unhinged hot girl era
sad girl autumn
girls do it better
i wanna be sedated
cool story bro
visceral rejection
hitch hiking in the desert
happy girl autumn
one of those moods
desolate estate
kpop girlie
bumpin dAt grind
baby it’s cold
pink sepia
boyband sundaes
poppin summah
feeling slutty on a tuesday
slasher summer
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Name: PrimrosePrime ❀❀❀❀❀
Nicknames: 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝐺𝑒𝑚，ᒪITTᒪᗴ ᑭᖇIᗰᗴ, 🅟🅡🅘🅜, 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔢
Age: 21 years old
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Bisexual, Lesbian, Polyamory, Demisexual, Xenosexual
Favorite Tv Shows: Transformers (Prime, Animated, Cyberverse, Earthspark and 2015’s Robots in Disguise), Star Wars Rebels, Gravity Falls, My Little Pony, Steven Universe, Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, The Owl House, Lucifer, All American, Pokemon, Star Vs. The Forces of Evil, Miraculous Ladybug, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Stranger Things, Dragons: Race of the Edge and Defenders of Berk, Tales of Arcadia, Sonic Boom, My Hero Academia, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Legend of Korra, Lego Monkie Kid, Young Justice, The Sandman, Obey Me, Death Note, A Centaur's Life, Bob's Burgers
Favorite Books: Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Alexandra Bracken’s The Darkest Minds, Lore, Divergent, Warriors, Chronicles of Narnia, A Monster Calls, Wings of Fire
Favorite Games: Five Nights at Freddy’s, Sky: Children of the Light, Switchcraft 3, Super Mario 3D World, Apex Legends, Bendy and the Ink Machine, Minecraft, Genshin Impact, Uncoven, Pokemon Go
Favorite Movies: Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief and Sea of Monsters, Avengers (Age of Ultron, Infinity War and Endgame), Godzilla and King of Monsters, Spider-Man: Into/Across the Spider-Verse, The Amazing Spider-Man 1 and 2, Spider-Man: No Way Home, Jigsaw/Spiral, Carrie, Shrek, The Last Unicorn, The Maze Runner, The Hunger Games, How To Train Your Dragon 1, 2 and 3, Rise of the Guardians, X-Men, Ghost Rider, Descendants, Jurassic World 1, Fallen Kingdom and Dominion, Nimona, Split, Glass, Candyman (2021), Nope, Us, Kong: Skull Island
Loves: writing, drawing, reading, taking naps, making friends, stargazing, watching movies, painting
I am autistic and I support LGBTQIA+
I am a writer and I’m working on 55 chapter stories called Transcendants.
I ᵃᵐ 𝕒 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔩𝔣 ᙖY ᑎᗩTᙀᖇᙓ
☆☆☆ 𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒰𝓃𝒾𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓈ℯ 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒫𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝒻ℴ𝓇 ℐ𝓉’𝓈 𝒫𝓇ℯ𝒸𝒾ℴ𝓊𝓈 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 ☆☆☆
♱
WIPS: Transcendants: A Light in the Darkness (55/55)
Transcendants: Skyfall (55/55)
Transcendants: The Ghost's Curse (6/55)
Stars Colliding (5/30)
A Rose Among Thorns: (7/35)
Witch of the Moon: (6/60)
The Human Among the Elves: (6/30)
Curse of the Divine (3/?)
A Dragon’s Enemy (4/?)
Through the Spider-Verse (10/?)
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Ineffable (Dream of the Endless x Reader) - Chapter 1: Daydream *preview*
The complete Chapter 1 now posted!
Dream/Morpheus x female reader
Synopsis: Reader is arguably as much of a mystery as Morpheus. She can communicate through thoughts, manipulate others' dreams, and sometimes, employ telekinesis. A chance encounter with Fiddler's Green leads to her being a part of Morpheus' crowd in the Dreaming, doing her part and using her abilities to help keep everything in check. She believes Morpheus only tolerates her, and keeps her around for her abilities. Merv, Lucienne, and some others become her good friends, but Morpheus remains distant. Yet, the Reader is intrigued. And maybe, Morpheus will be, too.
.... my first ever piece on here! (all typed from my phone so apologies in advance if anything looks out of place)
Also - I haven't read the comics (yet!) so my Sandman knowledge will all be coming from the Netflix series
Morpheus had a way about him. This much I'm sure of.
Some nights, it makes me want to bombard him with a million questions. What must it be like to be one of the Endless? To be a being that cannot even come close to comprehension? To be, quite literally, all dreams personified?
And then he shoots me a look that is subtle, but with a hint of distaste in it.
Oh yeah, I've seen it. In the few months that I've been around him, I know for a fact that he's not the most open of people... well, entities.
But every time he catches me absentmindedly looking at him, I get one of his classic glares.
And I get, I do. The guy just wants to keep to himself. He doesn't need some human staring at him from time to time, as if he's some kind of museum attraction.
To be fair, he does look like some kind of museum attraction. Perhaps, that can't even encompass it. He's more.... he's... he's....
"Are you listening?", a familiar deep tone inquires.
Shit. Caught lost in my thoughts yet again.
"Yes", I stammer. Great going.
He raises an eyebrow.
"Alright, well, you better run along to Gault and relay the details of your next mission which is highly important..."
"Okay", I sigh, what is he on about?, "I was... uhhh... daydreaming. You caught me!"
I attempt to muster a dry laugh, trying to appease him, and say, "I'm just tired, my mind just drifts away sometimes..."
"Sure it did, and it must have drifted well off onto something on Lord Morpheus' cheek." Merv helpfully quips, and I blanche in my seat, "He got a spot or somethin'? You been looking reeaaal har.."
"What?!" Morpheus and I raise our heads, voices melding in annoyance.
"I'm just saying, anyway I gotta go fix.... a thing.", Merv backs off and struts out of the room, a sly jump in his step. He sneaks a look back at me, smirking, and suddenly Halloween's not my favourite holiday anymore.
"Ignore him.", Mr. Dreamboat over here waves a hand impatiently, "As I was saying..."
"My lord," Lucienne interjects, "Forgive me but don't you think y/n needs to get some rest? She's already drifting off as it is. If you're about to give her an important task, it may be best to put it off until she's ready."
"I'm okay, really, I...", I start, but who am I kidding? I'm exhausted. And when I am, my gaze apparently lands on a certain bone-pale face.
Thanks, Merv. I'll get you back for that one.
"You may be right, Lucienne."
I look up, and I am arrested by his gaze on me. Brows furrowed, as if he's either trying to crack a challenging mystery, or he's dismayed by a stain on his sable coat.
With him, I can never tell.
"You're free to go. I just need to speak with y/n about something.", he motions to Lucienne, who tries to comfort me with a smile, and it works. Dear Lucienne. The ultimate confidante.
She walks away, and I am left with Morpheus, in the biggest library in all of existence, seated facing each other.
"Are you feeling alright?", he startles me.
"Hmm? Of course. I am a bit tired, but I'm fine. Nowhere else I'd rather be.", I shrug.
"Listen. I have a... request. And as such, it is up to you whether you will accept it or not.", he mutters deeply, his voice a mere whisper yet I have a feeling it can reach the farthest corner of this room.
My eyes stays locked onto his blue, and I realize I've held my breath for a minute, reeling from what he said.
"Go on.", I implore. I want to add, For you - anything.
But I bite my tongue, and wait.
* end of preview *
Chapter 1
#morpheus#neil gaiman#the sandman#dream of the endless#dream of the endless x reader#dream of the endless imagine#the sandman imagine#morpheus x reader#morpheus imagine#the sandman netflix#morpheus x y/n#dream of the endless x y/n#the sandman x y/n#dream imagine#dream x reader
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Read before Requesting - General Guidelines
This is long overdue, but welcome to the alleyway guidelines! First things first, I can never guarantee when a request will be fulfilled or that I can match it to exactly how you’re wanting it as I have to allow my creative liberty to take hold and come in to play. Regardless, these requests are ultimately in place to make my job easier.
Before requesting, please provide the following through my asks. If you request through my messages (DMs), I may not see it. Also please don’t be demanding, us fic writers are only human after all and a greeting and “please” and “thank you” go a long way (: Also, please don’t forget to comment or reblog, it really helps encourage and motivate me to write more, plus I love hearing your thoughts!
IN YOUR REQUEST, please provide the following:
~ the fandom/character ~ genre/mood (ex. fluff, angst, etc.) ~ any tropes (ex. friends to lovers, one bed, etc.)
Note: If requesting an x reader fic, please specify gender if desired. Otherwise fic will be written in 2nd POV (You). I never utilize Y/N in any of my work so 2nd person POV (You) is always implemented.
Who I am currently writing for
Fandoms
BBC Sherlock: (Sherlock Holmes {also the variations of Strawberry Sherlock / Victorian Sherlock})
The Sandman: Morpheus (Dream of the Endless) & The Corinthian
Good Omens: Anthony Crowley (David Tennant)
Star Wars: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian), Boba Fett, and Poe Dameron
Star Trek (aos): Khan Noonien Singh
Stranger Things: Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson
Marvel: The Moon Knight System, Dr. Stephen Strange, and Yelena Belova
The School for Good and Evil (Netflix): Rafal and Rhian Mistral (only at my discretion. I only write them when inspiration strikes).
Shadow & Bone/Six of Crows: General Kirigan (The Darkling/Aleksander), Jesper Fahey, Nikolai Lantsov, Matthias Helvar, (Kaz Brekker? - still uncertain)
What I will write
My fics are reader inserts, where the reader is female, afab, or gender neutral. I write fluff, hurt/comfort, and angst. When I am in the mood I can write smut, but it’s more focuses on the intimacy between the characters and not the explicit act itself (this is what you get from an asexual writer haha. If you need to see examples, you can go through my masterlist)
Off limits, no go, what I absolutely will not write
(TW) non-cub/dub-con, A/B/O, underage sex, incest, abuse/harrasement, eating disorders or where a character contemplates suicide or self-harm. Most of my fics revolve a lot around the reader being romantically involved, so I won’t write parent/child fics.
******
ALSO if I receive a request I feel I am not able to write or that makes me uncomfortable, it is within my right to not write it out. (I don’t mean to come off as rude, but it has to be said, regardless).
Again, I cannot guarantee when your fic request will be written or published. Life tends to happen, and my posting varies by day so I cannot guarantee a publishing date either because of this. Thank you for your understanding!
Special thanks to @frostandflamesfanfic and @starks-hero for whose own request rules I drew inspiration from. xoxo
#bakerstreethound#request rules#ace's request rules#request rules masterlist#rules of the alleyway#ace's alleyway
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I’m on a ladies of Sandman appreciation kick and currently delving into:
Dream x Lucienne
Morpheus x Calliope
Hob x Eleanor
# 2, 4, and/or 7
And really, I’ll read anything with these characters that isn’t romantic. Feeling like there’s a lack of character studies/gen fics on these ladies. And I’d pair Johanna Constantine or her ancestor with pretty much anyone.
Oh marvellous! I fully support some Sandman ladies loving! You rarely see such a host of amazing female characters in one show/comic. And sadly they do often play second fiddle when it comes to fics and ships.
2.Do you ship them?
So let's see, Dream x Lucienne.
It's not on my personal ship list. But I can easily see the appeal and would happily read fics for it. Nearly every Dream ship is about giving him someone loyal and true, who will love and believe in him no matter what. A stalwart supportive type who will stand up to him for his own good when need be. Well... (pushes Lucienne forward). There she is. You don't have to get creative with Lucienne to prove it either. She is, always has been and always will be that being for Dream. To paraphrase her. When she says Dream is never without his raven. On a whole deeper meaning, he never has been. She has NEVER abandoned him....You know I'm think I'm talking myself into this ship. 😅
Dream x Calliope and Hob x Eleanor.
I've put these two together because my answer is the same for both. Are they my favourite parings for these characters, no. But do I ship them... Absolutely! These canon lady loves deserve their realtionships explored in greater detail! The only women in their long lives, Hob and Dream went so far as to wed and start families with. How spectular these women must be!
I cannot describe what an absolute tower of strength and beauty I find Calliope. And Eleanor, when you consider how much of huge risk it would have been for Hob to settle down to that extent. He must have seen something truly special in her. I'd love to see these two realtionships explored further.
4. Would I consider writing for them?
If the mood takes me, I'm pretty sure I'd have a bash as writing for any ship. 😅 But the history enthusiast in me would love to delve into the two marriages, especially Hob's. To explore the late Tudor/ Elizabethean period.
7. What are some good fics...
Ah now, if I don't ship it, I can usually hand you over to someone who does. 😅 For Dream x Lucienne recs I shall hand you into the capable hands of @lucienne-thee-librarian. I have just read the most beautiful fic here on Tumblr by @two-hands-toward-the-sun about Morpheus and Calliope which is platonic but heart meltingly good. If I ask very nicely they might tag it. 😅 Have Hob and Eleanor ever been explored outside of side notes for other ships? If you find anything, please let me know. I'd love to read them!
And my god you're right! Johanna Constantine has truly missed her calling as the disaster bi, fandom bicycle she was born to be!
And thank you so much for your ask! 😁❤️
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