Morpheus X You - Tumblr Posts

<3

D is for -I know your dirty little secret!

Dirty Secret- I refuse to apologies for this! I DARE you to tell me you wouldn’t :P

Very smutty 18+

As always your comments feed my writing.

Dedicated to @layla2-49​ @nushy​ @wandas-soulmate​ @dilf-of-the-endless​

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pairing: morpheus x reader

summary: morpheus apologises to you (kind of)

word count: 1.1k+

Morpheus–prideful creature that he is–does not seek you out at first. He can still picture your teary eyes and angry words in retort to him dismissing your ideas. It’s not that he doesn’t know he’s insulted you in some way, but apologising is a whole different matter. An apology means admitting that he’s done something wrong. An apology is the last thing on his mind right now. 

That’s what he thinks and that’s what his mind settles on. He’s satisfied for the moment, until he nearly walks past your statue-like form in between one of the bookshelves of the library. You’re deep in thought, fingers tracing the spines of the books on the shelf one by one, searching. One of your arms is already wrapped around a dangerously tall stack of books. You’re still helping him look for information, even though he’s brushed you off. A strange constricting feeling settles in his chest. 

He’s certain that if he was close enough, he could hear you muttering the alphabet under your breath, trying to remember exactly where the book you’re looking for is held. He’s been staring for much too long, but you still haven’t looked up at him yet. He moves to leave. If you wanted to talk to him, you would have by now. It’s been two weeks after all. Two whole weeks of radio silence from your end. It’s almost like you’ve disappeared into the cracks of the library. 

Morpheus has seen Lucienne look at him almost pityingly over the past few days, although she absolutely divulges no information about your location since he hasn’t asked. But Morpheus absolutely will not ask, thank you very much. He’s been content in inquiring about you over the two weeks, asking if you were well, and Lucienne has simply told him that you were. And there hadn’t been any real reason to not believe her. But seeing you now, even from a distance, is different. 

You look tired, blinking fatigue out of your eyes and they’re ever so slightly puffy. Perhaps he should conjure up more comfortable spaces in the library for you to sleep in. He knows you’ve been spending all your time here, because he has yet to hear Lucienne tell him that you’re out of the library when he asks. 

“Morpheus?” 

He flinches at the formal tone in your voice. Morpheus’ eyes scan your form one more time, before meeting your gaze. You don’t look impressed at all – one eyebrow raised and your free hand now relaxing on top of the stack of books, facing him completely. 

You sigh. “If you’re looking for Lucienne, she’s further down that way.” You point to the right, turning your attention away from Morpheus. 

“I’ve already spoken to Lucienne.” He speaks calmly, not a single tone betraying the nervousness he feels at all. 

You stiffen, eyes still drawn to the books on the shelves, blinking furiously. “Well,” you glance towards him again. “I suppose I’ll move out of the way so you can find what you’re looking for.” Despite the neutral tone you try to use to pull yourself together, your voice cracks at the end of the sentence and your eyes are almost misty, trailed onto the floor in front of you. 

No. 

You curl your form around your armful of books, stepping past Morpheus quickly. And he knows immediately, knows that if he doesn’t say something now, then he might never get the chance to again. And if this final opportunity is lost then– 

“Wait.” 

To his surprise you stop in your tracks, but you’re still looking down towards the floor, avoiding his gaze at all costs. Your breathing has become shaky and uneven. You take a deep breath in, eyes closed, before looking directly at him. “Did you need something else?” 

“Yes.” You. He shuffles his feet and it makes you want to burst out into laughter. He looks so awkward, so clearly out of his comfort zone, that you can almost immediately guess what he’s finally got the courage to speak to you about. The hesitation in his words speaks volumes, along with a slight chill settling around the library as the sun begins to set earlier than it usually does. Inner torment. The Dreaming follows suit with his emotions, and it’s become a lot easier to read him since you’ve realised that. He speaks before you can. “It was wrong of me to deny your ideas so viciously.” 

The last rays of sunlight trickle through the windows, catching the inescapable fleeting pieces of dust in its grasp, surrounding your form. You look almost ethereal like this, especially once your eyes soften and your lips break into a half-hearted smile. The start of forgiveness. Although, to be fair, he would describe you as ethereal under any sort of lighting. He watches as your eyes harden and you almost turn away once again. “Your way worked in the end anyways, didn’t it? So, why bother–” 

“Because I hurt you.” 

The words stop you in your tracks, and you pause. Interruptions while you’re speaking are rare and Morpheus has always been polite, waiting for you to finish your ramblings before he gathers his thoughts together. He listens, and he remembers well. He steps closer to you, watching you for any kind of discomfort. Morpheus cautiously reaches out his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. If you leaned forward just a little, you would be right up against him. Too bad that the books clutched in your hands set up a sort of barrier between the two of you. “I hurt you and I wish to reconcile that. It may not always seem like it, but I value your opinion and thoughts.” 

“Morpheus.” You say at last, eyes gazing up at him fondly. The light is so, so bright on your skin. “I know.” 

He straightens up a little, and you hadn’t even noticed he’d been moping and dragging his feet along the floor this whole time. His hands come up to grasp over yours under the books, tugging them out of your hands. You let out a noise of protest, but Morpheus doesn’t stop his actions. Whatever it was could wait. Whatever it was could not possibly be more important than him making up for lost time with you; right here and right now. 

Cold fingers brush your chin, tilting it upward to meet his gaze. He’s smiling. It’s the small smile that crosses his lips whenever he becomes pleasantly surprised or satisfied, but you’re not really able to look at it for too long because Morpheus–sometimes painfully awkward, and still trying to figure out how love with you works–leans down and presses his lips against yours. And well, you’re not really thinking too much of anything else after that. 

an understanding

morpheus x reader. 5k. no use of y/n. yearning. the only thing i know about video game development comes from mythic quest. dont feed ducks bread (its bad for them) morpheus.

“You know feeding ducks bread is bad for them right,” you pointedly tell the stranger in black. The man was wearing 30 layers of black under the midday sun. You had no clue how he could bear wearing a wool coat in this heat. Sweat was already gathering around your forehead and you were in a gauzy shirt. 

“Oh.” His voice was deep, an alluring quality that would’ve made him a perfect audiobook narrator. He doesn’t look up, still hunched over his loaf of french bread: the good kind that was made fresh in store at some local bakery. 

“Mind if I sit here?” You didn’t want to sit on the grass. Lugging a towel on top of your laptop and bag was bad enough so you were really hoping for a bench, even one with no shade. It was just too nice of a day to spend working indoors. 

He doesn’t respond. Tearing another piece of bread, he pops it into his mouth, finally looking up, looking out at the park contemplatively. 

You decide that it’s okay. He didn’t say no.

Keep reading

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 8

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

non-consensual kissing and touching

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

mentions of death/killing

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 8: The Dream Plan

If you thought the first beach you’d visit in the Waking World would take your mind off things for a while, you were sorely mistaken.

For the past few days, you had taken to sulking in Ollie’s study. Trying to come up with plans for evading your Dream King had made you a bit moodier and jumpier than normal. To top it all off, you swore you had felt this immense surge of endless power find its way back to its rightful owner – has he finally retrieved all his tools? If so, it wouldn’t be long before he gets to you and finds out what you had been up to. The thought bothered you so much, you had started refusing to eat and step out of the study, enough for Ollie to put his foot down and address your depressed state. Ever the fusspot, he insisted you come with him on a trip to Cape Kennedy, Florida, for a change of view, saying it would be good for your health. You had wondered vaguely why he chose this place, but you just got a shrug from him, mumbling how there was just “something about it” that drew him in. After reluctantly agreeing, all he had to do was dream of the room he was staying in so you could travel through his dream to meet him in the Waking.

Instead of calming your inner storm, however, going to the beach only made you realize how sorely you missed the ones in the Dreaming. With a twinge of sad nostalgia, you recall just how fine their sand felt as you wriggled your toes in them, and how the serene waters were the loveliest shade of blue. Involuntarily, a pair of eyes in the same shade, with galaxies swirling in righteous anger, floats into your line of vision – the unwelcome image goes away in a blink; a mere hallucination. It takes all your willpower to not stagger backward and make a run for it, so when you see a young woman with colourful dreadlocks in the distance, crouching before a raven, you quietly thank the Fates for a much-needed distraction. You’ve met the woman in passing at the Bed and Breakfast you’re staying at, so you take a step forward to say a more proper ‘hi’ this time.

You don’t get a chance to, for someone grips your arm tightly and hurriedly drags you away from the bizarre scene.

“What the – hey, what in the –”

You object to the intrusion, yanking your arm away and eyeing whoever it is. Whatever indignant retort you had bubbling at your throat dies down, leaving your mouth agape. What is he doing here?

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, doll.” The Corinthian gives you a mock salute in greeting.

“Corinthian,” you tilt your head to greet him back. “What was that all about?”

Smiling cheekily, he replies, “You should be thanking me. I just saved you from meeting your maker earlier than I’m sure you planned.”

Wide-eyed, you shudder inwardly at his insinuation. “You mean that’s his raven? How can you be so sure?”

“I overheard them.”

With a quiet gesture to follow him, you both walk away from the scene, ensuring you’re both out of earshot.

“What is a Dreaming raven doing, talking to Rose Walker?”

“You’ve met her?”

“Yes, she’s a fellow tenant at this place we’re staying.”

“Oh? I’m guessing you’re with your lover? You like getting yourself in trouble, don’t you?” He says playfully, wagging a finger at you.

Ignoring his comment, you repeat your question: “What’s a raven of the Dream Lord doing with her?”

“Don’t you recognize her? She’s a vortex.”

The Corinthian’s revelation makes you halt your steps in your shock.

“So, you are familiar with Vortexes.”

“I’ve read about them. Dreams are drawn to them, like moths to a flame.”

“Smart as ever, doll. As for me, I’m going to make her kill Dream.”

“No,” You say, shaking your head at him in incredulity. “You’re really not going to do that, are you?”

His smirk only grows wider, more sinister. “No spoilers, doll. Just sit back and enjoy the show.”

Your heart sinks at this – it’s clear he has made his choice, and there is no saving him from it. A sudden, concerning thought crosses you:

“He’s going to use her to draw out those who are missing.”

“Oh, you think?” He remarks sarcastically, looking around the beach with faint interest.

“It was a mistake, coming here,” you say in a haunted whisper.

Humming thoughtfully, he asks you, “What are you gonna do, then, Dream’s little plaything?”

“Don’t call me that,” You pout at the nickname, eyes darting at the beachgoers, looking for signs of Rose or the raven. “I must go and warn Ollie. What are you going to do?”

Hands in his trench coat pockets and with a confident air about him, he drawls, “What I do best.”

You give a final nod in his direction and say, “Thank you, Corinthian, for…this.” You gesture awkwardly between the two of you. “Take care of yourself.”

Chuckling lightly, he responds, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me, doll. I can take care of myself just fine. You, on the other hand…” he trails off, clicking his tongue.

He turns his back on you with a single wave, and you watch him vanish in the crowd of incoming beachgoers.

***

As soon as you enter the room, you find it void of the doctor, much to your dismay. The bed had been made, his clothes tucked neatly inside the dresser, and he had the towels replaced. He had at least tidied up the place before he left. Looking around, you notice a box on the table with a note attached to it. The note reads, in Ollie’s immaculate handwriting:

Mera,

I’m out witch-hunting lol :) back before dinner

I left you money for food if you get hungry,

should be enough to order an entire menu ;D

True enough, you lift the box, and you find ten one hundred dollar bills. The box itself, to your surprise, held a six-inch cherry chocolate cheesecake, which he must’ve ordered in after you left.

The cake looks fantastic, but you find yourself without an appetite, so you set the box down and start packing his things. You neatly fold every shirt and every pair of pants he hung in the dresser and place them in his luggage. You then pack the pair of shoes he had left under the table, and after ensuring everything else he had brought is tucked in the luggage trolley, you sit on the couch and wait.

After about six hours of waiting in the room, you had finished off half of the cake he left in your boredom; you’re restless, scared to death that your master might pop in the room any minute to whisk you away from the Waking for good. Sick of counting the flowers on the wallpaper, you take some of the money he left on the table and sneak out of the room to take a walk in the town square. You had heard Rose and her friend, Lyta, talk in the lobby about searching for a lost relative – you didn’t really stick around, not wanting to draw attention to yourself – all you found out was that they would be out the entire day. You expected Dream’s raven to stick with them, so you figured it would be safe. After about three servings of frozen yogurt and three hours later, you head back to the Bed and Breakfast, hoping Ollie had made it back so you could leave this place for good.

As soon as you burst through the door, you find him fast asleep on the bed, still in his day trousers. Looking closely, you notice a third-edition LeRêve device on his wrist, its extending wires strapped to his fingers. Wasting no time, you travel to his dreams, ready to give him an earful and drag him to the nearest airport to get as far away from Cape Kennedy as possible.

You arrive to find him on his desk reading a pocket-sized, antique-looking leather-bound book that you’ve never seen him read before.

 He looks up from the book as soon as he feels you arrive. He spiritedly gets up from his desk to approach you, saying, “I’m sorry for leaving you alone at the last minute, Mera, but I’ve been busy. Hear me out: I think know how to keep you safe.”

You let out a humorless chortle, and admit, “Ollie, we’ve thought of everything. Cutting off your consciousness from the Dreaming isn’t enough, now that he’s got a Vortex cooperating with him. That’s what I came here to tell you. We have to leave this place. He’s going to find me soon. Getting away from here can at least buy me more time.”

“What ‘vortex?’ And why did you pack? I need more time to figure this out.”

Now visibly panicking, you grab him by the arms. “Figure what out, Ollie? We don’t have time for this!” You strain out, slightly shaking him. Without your control, tears start to pool out of the corners of your eyes. If he finds me, he finds you. 

Very gently, Ollie breaks free from your grip, cups your cheeks with both warm hands, and brings your foreheads together.

“You have to trust me, please. Remember what you did for me, even after I placed that binding curse on you? You came back for me and helped me. I want to do the same for you. Don’t cry, please. He’s never going to hurt you again, not under my watch.”

Sniffling, you give him a tiny nod, touched by his determination to protect you from a being with powers beyond his comprehension. If there is even a tiny percentage of his plan working and staying with him, you decide to cling on to that at that very moment: anything, anything, just you could be free with him.

“Alright. What have you got?”

He sighs in relief, wiping your tears with his thumbs, and says, “Wards.” He grabs the open book he left on the desk and waves it excitedly in the air.

At your befuddled look, you explain further, “I drove all the way to Jacksonville to meet this witch I saw on Facebook. That was a hundred and sixty miles away, can you believe it? And I told her I keep being followed by this supernatural thing and I wanted to keep it away, and she asks what supernatural thing, right? So I told her I don’t know, but it’s powerful beyond –”

“Ollie,” you interrupt, waving a hand in his face. “You’re rambling. What did she say?”

“She sold me this book about magical wards. So, what if I can put up these wards in my dream –”

“The way they’re used in the Waking,” you finish his sentence for him. “It’s a novel idea, Ollie, but I’m not sure how a simple set of wards could keep an Endless away.”

In your head, flashes of a circular glass cage cross your vision. “But I think I’ve seen a barrier that kept one at bay.”

Ollie’s face lights up with hope at your comment. “We have to try, right?”

Tacitly, you agree, asking, “What do you need?”

“Just give me a few days. Please.”

You nod, starting to feel sick in the stomach at the price you need to pay to buy him time.

Don’t do it, comes the Voice’s ominous warning.

“I have to go back to the Kingdom.”

He turns his head away from the book sharply and narrows his eyes on you. “What did you just say?”

Expecting this reaction, you sigh deeply, sitting back down on the couch and pointedly ignoring the Voice’s protests. “I have to appear in the castle, so they don’t suspect a thing.”

“No. No, absolutely fucking not. You’re going over my dead body.” Ollie’s brows are furrowed together, and he places his hands on his hips in indignance at your proposal.

“Ollie, I don’t like it any better than you do. But please, hear me out. The Vortex I mentioned? It’s a human being with powers that can include traveling through other people’s dreams. She’s here, right in that building with us. Anything to do with dreams and nightmares, she draws nearer to herself, and she’s working for the Dream King. If I don’t go right now, they’ll realize I’ve been with you this whole time.”

Ollie, rubbing the back of his head, dons a distraught, yet resigned expression. “Are you sure there’s no other way?”

You shake your head glumly. With a sudden inspiration, you close the distance between you two. You fish out the dreamcatcher that had made its home in your pocket, untouched for almost a year. You hold it between your thumb and forefinger and show it to him.

He looks at the all-too-familiar object with a confused smile. “I thought you destroyed that.”

“I don’t know why I kept it. You’re still a bastard for binding me to it,” you jest, placing it back into your pocket and adding, “But I’m glad I did.” Breathing deeply, you summon all the courage you have in your heart for what you’re about to do.

Standing on your toes (he’s so bloody tall), you wrap your arms around his neck and plant a quick, soft kiss on his lips.

“I’ll see you later. Keep safe.”

And in an instant, you will yourself back to the sea of dreams for the first time in months, leaving him flustered and red as a tomato in the face.

***

In the fantastical dreams of Barbara McKean or Barbie, as she likes to be called, a dense fog engulfs the figures of a young female with rainbow dreadlocks and a tall, dark-haired male clad in flowy robes of black.

As Rose Walker takes slow, calculated steps through the fog, the King of Dreams follows wordlessly after her. His expression cold and unreadable, he watches the Vortex tread onwards with hands wading through the thick gray mist before her, perhaps looking for an exit from this dream. Morpheus can feel her dogged determination to find the dreams of her brother – his quest, on the other hand, is to fetch a Nightmare called Gault, whom he suspects may have kept her brother away in an effort to mislead him and exercise her own powers to rule a dream she has full control of. Another subject of his had gone rogue and had overstepped their boundaries. If only his creations know well to toe the line and obey the rules he has set out since the inception of his kingdom, he would be somewhere else, perhaps deep in the dreams of other mortals, in search of a dream that had proved so loyal, enough to sacrifice her safety to find him and save his dying kingdom. Perhaps, should they follow your example, he might be inclined to enact a more merciful punishment.

The fog before them gathers right in front of his companion, swirling to the middle to form a single door. Rose Walker hesitates for a moment, before pushing it open and stepping into the dream of another mortal.

The two unlikely pair find themselves in a neat, minimalist office, with the dreamer on his desk reading from a tiny, old book with utmost concentration.

Oliver Chapman, the said dreamer, slowly gets to his feet, placing his book inside his desk drawer.

“Excuse me, can I help the both of you?” he inquires, his suspicion-filled green eyes, glaring, locking on the galaxy-filled blue ones of Dream of the Endless.

A lucid dreamer.

The King rises to this quiet challenge, wondering inwardly why, of all the dreams he has been in since his capture, his is the only one with a strong scent of the dream most precious to him. Could his dream have recently sought refuge here, perhaps, before moving on to another’s? Are you close by, injured, too weak to come home to him and return to his arms? To his credit, Oliver Chapman does not flinch; Morpheus, however, the perceptive being he is, senses his rapid heartbeat. Has he got something to hide?

“You shouldn’t be here,” he declares, his narrowing eyes never leaving the Dream King’s.

Sensing the tension between the men, Rose clears her throat loudly and says, “I’m sorry, Ollie, we were just leaving,” putting emphasis on the last word.

Just as she finishes her sentence, another door materializes on the wall of his study where it wasn’t a few moments ago. Rose glances nervously between the two before finally pushing the door open and moving on to the next dream.

With a scoff of barely-concealed contempt, Morpheus tears his gaze away from the dreamer and exits through the door after the Vortex. He might not know it yet, but Oliver Chapman just found himself worthy of another visit from him in the near future.

***

Back in the Dreaming, you surface from the seas, relieved to finally know the waters have calmed down in your King’s presence.

The King of Dreams, back in his kingdom.

Of course, you’re happy he has finally returned to restore life to the Realm you loved with every fiber of your being –but surely that meant the sealing of your fate to a function you had dreaded to fulfill. You could hear your heart thumping loudly in your ears, and you try to compose yourself by breathing through your mouth as you begin your walk towards the towering gates. You trek past the town center, all the way to the bridge that connects the majestic palace that had been your home. It seemed only yesterday that the entire land had nothing but barren landscapes. Everything has been brought back to the way it was – the Dreamfolk, going about their lives merrily, grateful for their monarch’s return. It all reminded you of all the fun you once had before you came on your master’s radar, so it’s with a pang in your heart to have to say goodbye, granted Ollie’s plan works and your King does not get wind of it.

Ollie. You had just kissed him right before you left. If he found out…

The steps to the palace grounds shake you from your reverie. You take a final deep breath and ascend. Gripping your skirt in an effort to strengthen your resolve, you feel something solid in your pocket; fishing the object out, you see the ruby you had removed on your first day in the Waking World – his gift, or rather, his mark on you, a rather ominous reminder. You fix it on your head hastily, before darting to the Library to greet a friend you have not seen in almost a year.

Entering the Royal Librarian’s premises takes your breath away like it’s the first time you’ve seen it. You take a moment to stroke the giant shelves containing the books you thought you’d never get back in your creator’s absence, fighting back your tears of joy – humanity’s books, the same ones you’ve found solace in, now have finally made it home.

“Mera, is that you?”

At the sound of Lucienne’s voice, you spin around to see her, almost losing your balance. She has not changed a bit, except for her expression – you had gotten so used to seeing her in a morose mood for the past century, you forgot how bright her smile could be. Running to her, you give her the tightest hug you could muster.

“Mera, thank goodness you’re safe!” Lucienne exclaims in a relieved voice.

Breaking the hug, you brace yourself for the lie you’re about to tell, hoping one day, she could forgive you for it.

“I got stuck in the dreams,” you begin with a strained look, finding it difficult to tell the lie. Thankfully, she seems to mistake this as you recollecting your memory of getting lost in the waters.

“Oh, dear, what happened?” she asks, concern marring her features.

Shit. You had not prepared for this at all.

“I-I got…trapped,” you stammer, but before she could press on, you both feel the almighty presence of your King return to the shores, evidently coming from the dreams of the mortals. Has he seen Ollie?

“I’ve got to go, Mera. The Dream Lord has come back from a quest to find a Nightmare named Gault. I’ll explain everything to you later, but it isn’t safe in the palace yet – there’s a Vortex, and it’s recently been causing dream-quakes,” she explains. With a grasp on your hand, she flashes you a welcoming smile. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

And so you wait, rooted to your spot – not that you could move anyway. As much as you wanted to dig into the books and find out what your dreamers had been up to, you’re trembling and jittery, fumbling with your hands with nothing but dread filling your thoughts. What has he found out in his trip in the dreams with Rose? What if he found out about your plans or worse, what if he hurt Ollie? Your intrusive thoughts wander to an image of Ollie, eyes almost glazed over, lying in a pool of blood –

Pull yourself together, the Voice scolds.

You rub your face with your palms to erase the gruesome image. The Voice is right – now is not a good time to lose it.

As soon as you hear a pair of footsteps enter the library, you brace yourself for their arrival. You look down at the floor and try to regulate your breathing. When the footsteps come to halt before you, you bow your head in reverence – you’re in the audience of the very omnipotent being who had molded you into existence, after all. He merely stands there, yet he changes the entire atmosphere in the library to one of petrifying tension.

Dream of the Endless.

“Mera.”

The sound of his deep, velvety voice, echoing in the expansive space, sends shivers down your spine. Your hand unconsciously goes to your thigh where your other pocket is, feeling for the dreamcatcher as if trying to draw comfort from it.

“Lucienne, leave us.”

You inwardly flinch at the command he had directed at his Royal Librarian – it was the same command he had issued to her in the throne room all those years ago, the events after which haunted you ever since. Ever the obedient one, Lucienne rushes past you – your scared eyes meet her reassuring ones briefly as she mouths, ‘we’ll talk later,’ before retreating. Her footsteps die down and one of the massive doors to the library close behind her, leaving you and your master alone.

He takes dawdling steps towards you, taking his time – your eyes keep glued to his feet, willing your hands not to shake. He takes a stop a few inches right in front of you.

You see him raise his hand – is he finally going to unmake you after all the rules you’ve broken? With resignation, you wait for the excruciating pain of disintegrating into millions of grains of sand, but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel a warm hand cup the side of your face ever so gently.

“Look at me.”

You are quick to raise your head and meet his eyes; in place of righteous wrath, he has an unexpected softness in his gaze, the galaxies in his blue eyes swirling in seeming anticipation. You almost get lost in it, if it isn’t for the memory in you of the same eyes that had looked at you with such lust it made your skin crawl.

As if on cue, his gaze darkens, the hunger in his eyes evident – like they did so many times before, those haunting moments still fresh in your mind.

You’ve thought of many things that would occur when you meet him again and kept playing them over and over again in your head.

His insistent lips on yours isn’t one of them.

Wrapping his other around your waist, the Dream Lord spins you around and pins you on the nearby bookshelf, inadvertently knocking off some books in the process. You close your eyes tightly, thinking of Ollie so you could endure the kiss, but his thumb on your chin forces your mouth open and he slips his tongue, tangling yours with his. Without meaning to, your palms make their way to his chest, tapping lightly, wanting to make him stop. To your surprise, his lips leave yours, and nuzzles your hair, but before your relief could register, his words make your heart sink to your stomach:

“Thoughts of you were my only solace in my capture.”

 And he takes a deep breath to smell your hair before pulling away, looking into your eyes as he strokes your jawline.

“I had feared the sea of dreams had claimed you for itself. What happened to you?”

With your breathing still uneven and shallow, you stammer in response, “I-I… got t-trapped, my Lord…”

“Trapped?”

You hope to the Fates he doesn’t see the fear in your eyes, or feel your escalating heartbeat – he waits for a response, narrowing his eyes slightly. Delaying any further could make him doubt anything else you would say, so in your rush to find an excuse, you blurt out, “S-someone trapped me using m-magic, your Majesty.”

For a second he assesses your words, trying to detect a hint of deception. But how could he? It was a partial truth, and one that you might regret revealing, but this isn’t the time to think of it.

He clenches his jaw with a look of burning outrage. With a low voice, he asks, “Who?”

“My Lord, it doesn’t matter –”

His hold on your waist tightens by a tiny fraction. “Who trapped you?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“Please, my Lord, they did it because they needed my help, and they let me go in the end –”

“You must tell me, my dream. Their reason, nor their change of heart, matters not.”

You bite your lip in distress, trying to persuade him from his line of questioning. It isn’t working.

“My little dream, I am only looking after you. ‘They’ tried to keep what’s mine. I will ensure that they shall never do so again.”

“You don’t have to, my Lord, please…” you try to beg, daring to place your palm over the hand cupping your cheek. “Please, don’t…”

The Dream Lord hums lowly, and he swoops in on you and kisses you once more.

His kiss is desperate this time, as if wanting to savor every inch of your mouth – you let him, and at some point when he deepens the kiss even further, you tentatively kiss him back – anything for him to let the matter go. Will it be enough?

He growls in pleasure at your response, probably unexpecting it. This goads him on – his hands travel to your back, fondling the ribbon of your dress. Inwardly, you pray with all your might that he doesn’t undo it –

Then the ground beneath your feet shakes, forcing the both of you still your movement; grateful for the opportunity, you waste no time pulling away from his embrace and putting as much acceptable distance as possible without causing his temper to flare further.

When the quake eventually halts, your master breaks the silence with a warning: “I will soon coax it out of you. In the meantime, I forbid you to leave my Kingdom.”

You give him a wide-eyed look in protest, but he ever-so-slightly shakes his head, dismissing your objection. “It would set my heart at ease if you stayed there, my dream, until the Vortex has been dealt with. Your quarters have been restored to their original state. Your previous attendant would be happy to resume her role.”

No, this wouldn’t do; not again. You had spent so much time by yourself in that wretched prison, it almost drove you to insanity. Besides, you need as much freedom of movement as you can to visit Ollie’s progress.

So, clutching your hands to your chest in a plea, you say, “My Lord, please don’t confine me in there, I could help, or continue forming dreams –”

“No, you will not.” Despite our pleading eyes, you are met with your Lord’s resolute ones.

“Please, at least let me to the Library, I could be of use to Lucienne.”

He takes a threatening step forward with a curious expression, wondering, “Why, my dream? Do you not like your room? Or are you worried you’re going to be lonely, without company?”

No! shouts the adamant Voice in your head. Shaking your head wildly, you say, “No, sir I –”

“Well, if my dream requests it so,” he starts with a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth, “I can perhaps make quick visits to your quarters to keep you company.”

Perhaps, if you could’ve just agreed, maybe it should not have come to this? Visits from him, no matter what length, seemed to always leave you with a great deal of anxiety.

“I could never tear your time away from your duties, my King,” you say in an attempt to dissuade him.

A resonating caw from above interrupts your conversation.

“Sir, sir, you have to see this!”

You look up: the raven you saw only this morning circles the high ceiling above you before swooping low and landing on the nearest desk, facing you.

“Hello, ma’am!” he greets politely with a wave of a wing.

The Dream King steps forward with a leveled expression, addressing the raven and gesturing to you. “Matthew, this is Mera. She is a dream of mine. You will address her as ‘my lady.’”

Matthew the raven caws before bowing and amending animatedly, “Oh, I’m sorry, my lady. Are you okay? You look spooked. Did he scare you? I gotta admit, he does scare me a little bit – no, not a little bit, but, like, a lot, you know –”

“Matthew.” Your creator sharply interrupts his chatter. Facing you, he motions to the bird perched on the desk with a tilt of his head. “This is Matthew, my raven.”

With a tiny wave at the raven, you greet him ‘hello’ and flash a smile. “Have you met Jessamy, Matthew?”

His dark, beady eyes blink in hesitation, and he ruffles his feathers. “Uh… I have not –”

“That is a matter we can discuss at another time, my dream,” he declares flatly, his face donning a stony mask you know so well; one that always indicates no room for more argument. His eyes bore into yours once more with clear castigation. “My word is final. No wandering around the Realm, or you shall hear from me. Come, Matthew.”

“I’ll see you around, my Lady.” At his master’s bidding, Matthew takes off with a caw and follows the Endless, whose cloak billows around him as his long strides take him away from the library and out of your sight.

The instant he’s gone, you let out the breath you’re holding in and clutch a nearby chair in support.

And once again, like he has done so many times before, he has left you feeling trapped and helpless – and this is just your first meeting with him after a century. What could possibly go down next, with that vague promise of him invading your privacy in the pretense of keeping your company?

***

Morpheus likes to think he’s a man of his word.

This is why he quietly makes his way to your chambers using his sand to avoid rousing you from what looks like a troubled slumber.

The moonlight filtering from the windows of your room illuminated your figure. In your tossing and turning, he surmises, the silken sheets that had previously protected your form from the cold, night air, now reveal quite a sight to behold: your disheveled hair partially covering your face; the strap of your thin nightgown had fallen below your shoulders, exposing your delicate flesh; your nightgown had hiked up to your soft thighs. All the powers he had at his disposal almost isn’t enough to hold himself back from ravishing every inch of you laid out for him in such a state. With a low hum, he contemplates your choice of such a flimsy article of clothing in mild amusement – had you specifically chosen that nightgown to surprise him and tease him with such a view? Knowing how innocent you are, you could not have done that, at least not intentionally. And yet, it’s one of the many qualities he desired in you – your purity, and the thought of corrupting that little by little makes his cock twitch uncomfortably.

He takes deep breaths to will his arousal down, Matthew’s advice echoing in his head.

After they had left you in the library to begin tackling a wayward Nightmare of his and his devoted followers, his raven pressed him about his relationship with the dream he had just met. Morpheus confides very little, but it was enough for the motormouthed bird to conclude the nature of your involvement together. He had then given unsolicited advice; that his ‘scary, creepy vibes’ were pushing you away, and that he had to ‘be patient and go slow’ in pursuing you. Of course, this earned him quite the ‘scary glare’ even before he’d finished his sentence.

But a hundred and six years were evidence of how patient he was in your relationship.

He had been starved of you, and he’s desperately wanting to satiate this appetite. He has to give Matthew’s words some credit, however; he had been bold in his actions before, and he had indeed, ‘spooked’ you, as his raven had noted.

He sets aside his conflicting thoughts and approaches your bed. Softly, he brushes away the stray strands of hair that covered your face. Such beauty he crafted, he muses. Is he not allowed to appreciate his own work of art? His hand moves on its own accord, tracing the outline of your cheek, all the way to the exposed collarbones he had longed to lavish with marks of his possession. The thought of you underneath him, your skin flushed with his bites – he licks his lips in anticipation. He sits on the edge of your bed as gently as he can, his eyes locking on your luscious, bare thighs. He wonders inwardly how long these thoughts would sustain him before his emotions spill over.

No; his mere, clandestine touches aren’t enough. He needs to have you soon.

***

Get up.

Get up.

UP!

The Voice renting space in your head is never this insistent, so you heed its third call, and force yourself to wake and open your eyes. True and alarmingly enough, you find your King sitting on the edge of your bed, watching you with glowing, predatory eyes.

Your immediate reaction is to cover yourself – you pull at the sheets and drape them over yourself hastily; it only partially covers your body and it doesn't help the feeling of being exposed – not under his gaze.

“Forgive me, my little dream, for the intrusion. I planned to visit only momentarily, but I’m afraid I had stalled,” His eyes travel from your face to your partly covered thigh, and adds, “I could not leave, not when I’m presented with such a…tempting sight.”

You watch in muted horror, frozen in place, as one pale hand snakes toward your flesh and strokes it ever-so-delicately, tracing invisible lines. It’s when his hand travels upward that you flinch and pull your legs closer, covering them entirely in silk and hiding it from his heated stare.

He doesn’t appreciate your instinctive reaction.

“You refuse me, still,” he coldly states, his eyes glowing threateningly. “I had thought a century was enough for you to accept your role to me.”

“My Lord,” you start, your plea barely a whisper, “I beg you to reconsider –”

Slowly, he rises from the edge of the bed – you hope against all hope that he goes away in his disappointment, but he only advances nearer to your side, his face contorted in displeasure.

“You may have forgotten: I’m still your King and your creator, and you have a duty to me. A reminder may be long overdue.”

In a split second, you find your back hitting the bed and let out a startled cry. Your master had just gotten on top of you, pinning your hands to the side, his body pressing against you and straddling you at the waist. He's still fully clothed, but you could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent almost suffocating you. You try to stifle your whimpers and avoid struggling against his hold – angering him while in such a precarious situation wouldn’t do you any good.

With a low hum, his lips hover over yours, a hairbreadth away from touching. Your breath hitches, and slowly, agonizingly, he moves down to the groove of your neck, his hot breath peppering your already-flushed skin. He then nuzzles his nose on your jawline and inhales deeply, taking in your scent as if he couldn’t get enough. He’s motionless for a few moments, then you start feeling his lips hover on the side of your face.

“You,” he growls, his hand suddenly on your thigh, hiking your nightgown up, “Are,” he strokes upward, reaching your waist, fondling the hem of your underwear, “Mine.”

“No, my Lord, please…”

At this point, you couldn’t hold back your cries – tears start spilling from the corner of your eyes. When he feels the tears on the side of your face, he shushes you.

“Not another word.”

With your free hand, you cover your mouth at the threat, drowning out the pitiful noises you’re making, not wanting to upset him any further. You close your eyes, wishing this…this nightmare was over.

When he pulls away from you at last and gets off the bed, you scramble to adjust your gown and cover yourself up with the sheets. You sit up hurriedly and scoot backward until your back touches the headboard.

“You will meet me tomorrow morning, on the balcony of the highest tower in my palace. I will have my raven fetch you. Be there as I command it.”

He is gone in a flurry of sand.

It takes about five minutes before you break into tears, clutching a pillow close. You shake in uncontrollable sobbing as you squeeze the pillow tightly for comfort that wouldn’t come. As you do, you feel something solid against the soft cotton – you quickly rummage inside and take the dreamcatcher out. Once an abominable object that bound you against your wishes, it has now become your only source of strength. Nuzzling it to your cheek, your sobs die down, allowing you to think clearly and make an inward vow: no matter what he does, you will not break – for your dream of freedom and for Ollie.

It will all be over soon.

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Author notes on the Chapter:

More angy, touchy, possessive Dream Lord as promised :D

This was an adventure to write NGL. Also, I might be busy by next week - I will be out of town for work for an office party and a project, so the next update might be late (Sunday, Monday, perhaps?). Crossing my fingers I still get to write because I love this fic so much, and shit's about to unfold for our poor reader lol

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Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby@endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 12/10/22

Edit date: 12/10/22

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Tagging the following:

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I don't know what exactly to say so I make memes

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 10

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

non-consensual kissing and touching

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

angst, so much angst

threats of perpetual nightmares

the King of Nightmares living up to his name

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 10: This Dream is Over

Morpheus left the library, and you on the couch, just a tad bit disgruntled at his Royal Librarian’s interruption – and for a second time too, however unwittingly so. You were already responding to his touches, and he was so close to finally taking you fully as he had desperately wished to for so long. But, perhaps it was for the best – after all, he made a vow to you to take it slow until the fifth day tomorrow. Only one more day, he tried to placate himself.

And yet, as he paced at the foot of his throne, he recognized the frustration invading his thoughts stemming from forcing himself to separate from you (why did he care, anyway? He is the King of Dreaming, he should be able to take you wherever and whenever he pleases). He was painfully aware how bottling these complex emotions like so might lead to uncontrollable outbursts, given his experience in the past.

Just pacing in his throne room and stewing in his thoughts won’t do – he needed an outlet.

He willed himself, with a bit of his sand’s help, to a beach at the outskirts of his kingdom; a beach only he, and on rare occasions, his librarian, had access to. On one bended knee, he took a fistful of the beach’s black sand, feeling every coarse grain in his palm. He stood slowly, spreading his fingers and allowing the sand to be carried away with the light breeze. Except the sand didn’t land on the midnight-coloured shore he picked it up from – every single grain started floating in midair before him as his power commanded so, gradually taking shape.

Into what, he was unsure of yet. However, he allowed his current storm of emotions to guide him to this new creation of his, eventually concluding the nature of the being he’s forming.

He had not created such a potent nightmare in a long time.

He looked around the black shores, his workshop of sorts, with his hands clasped regally right in front of him. His thoughts landed on a certain little dream of his, as he was wont to do.

The intimate moment he had witnessed in the dream of Oliver Chapman had led him to a flare-up in the library, and you had unfortunately received the brunt of it. He had stormed off to Fiddlers’ Green to find out if you had confided to your fellow dream about any personal matters. His heart wanted to believe your word regarding your connection with the mortal that had dreamt of you in such an insulting manner, but his age-old intuition told him differently. Experience had taught him to trust such inklings, and so he begrudgingly allowed an invasive thought to cross his mind: did his beloved dream harbour…feelings for the wretched human?

This was a thought he had refused to entertain at first, for it left a bitter, cloying taste on his tongue. Furthermore, he had no reason to doubt you in such a way. How could he? He had read so in the books himself: such was your steadfast devotion to him that you were willing to risk your life in search of him.

It was the cursed Chapman he did not trust.

Was he the one who had trapped you with magic? Even worse, had he brainwashed you against him, your master and creator? Was he the reason why, even after such a long time, you still had not accepted your eternal place with him? With a low hum, he contemplated gathering more of the black sand to craft more horrors he wanted to inflict – he might have a need for more nightmares than he originally intended. But should a third visit to the cursed dreamer confirm his suspicions, he would be forced into a more drastic, devastating approach.

Perhaps he could make the doctor forget? It would be like child’s play – with a pinch of his sand, the Chapman would forget about you, thus, you would have no more reason to refuse your function and shirk your new duty. You’d finally be more accepting of your fate as the King’s only consort, an honor he had no intention of bestowing anyone else. Whether or not he would even need to would be another matter.

He stayed on the midnight shores, concocting nightmares shaped in the maelstrom of his emotions, until just a little past sunset. He had planned on retiring to his chambers afterward – there was work to be done tomorrow, after all, and a dreamer to visit – but on a whim, he materializes into his library. He found Lucienne scribbling on her desk with the lamp on, having already dimmed the lights in the library.

“My Lord,” she greeted, polite as ever, putting her quill down and getting to her feet.

Morpheus slightly tilted his head in greeting, before issuing a command: “I need you to fetch the last Chapman’s book of dreams.”

Lucienne knew never to question his motives but, this time, she furrows her brows at the request. “Sir, you had asked me to put them away in your office with the intention of never touching them again. May I ask what brought this change about?”

“A mere hunch,” Morpheus replied, purposefully being vague about his reason. As loyal as she was, he and his librarian had developed a rapport that allowed her to freely voice her opinion on both matters of the Dreaming and personal affairs, but there were things that even she need not know – his plan for the dreamer in question being one of them.

With a purse of lips and a small bow of her head, she pulled out a set of keys from her desk drawer and quietly excused herself. Minutes later, she came back with a thick leather-bound book in tow and set it down on the table, dusting it off before handing it to him.

He gripped the book with unnecessary force, immediately flipping to its last pages. To the untrained eye, there seemed to be nothing amiss – but Dream knew better. He had handled an endless number of dream-books since the inception of the library, enough to know the final pages on the Sleep Doctor’s book had been cleverly and cleanly removed from the stitching on the spine instead of simply being torn off.

“Curious,” he muttered to himself, running his fingers on the portion of the book where the pages should have been stitched.

“Sir?” Lucienne looked on with mild intrigue, eyeing the book in the King’s grasp.

“Had there been any other instance of dreams going undocumented?” Dream asked, hoping to draw a more rational conclusion. Could you have –?

“None that I am aware of sir,” she responded confidently.

Could his suspicions be true? A bright flash of light followed by a loud thunderclap reverberated through the entire Dreaming, mirroring its sovereign’s inner turmoil. But no – he knew he needed to approach the matter more judiciously. After all, the vandal that tampered with the library book may not have been acting on her own accord. He tried to take control of his simmering rage, but in doing so, his hands, still holding the book, started shaking ever-so-slightly. This did not escape the notice of his worried librarian.

“Is there something wrong, your Majesty?”

Morpheus let out an imperceptible sigh. “Nothing I cannot amend, Lucienne.” Wordlessly, he handed the book back to her before walking away, retiring in his quarters. He made a beeline for his desk, where a quill and a small piece of paper lay waiting. He wrote a brief note on the paper addressed to his little dream, before traipsing to the expansive balcony that offered him a view of his Realm and the now-cloudy night sky, not minding the cold, harsh winds blowing against his form.

As soon as light touched the first blade of grass in his Kingdom, he would set to work: Fiddlers’ Green whom he would enlist to distract you, then the mortal from whom he would extract the truth, no matter the means.  

***

Ollie pulls you to him in a tight, warm hug with light shushes, trying to soothe your sobs. You’ve always liked his hugs, so you bury your face in his shirt, not caring that you were staining it with your tears. When you both pull away, he cups both your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He then places a kiss on your forehead, then whispers against your skin with the gentlest of tones:

“Then I’ll protect you with my life.”

His words were touching, but the last thing you want was for him to risk his life, not when the Endless could easily take it away with a snap of his fingers. “Ollie, he’s going to hurt you, I don’t want you to hurt…you could still run away –”

“Absolutely not,” he says, pulling away so he could look into your eyes. There isn’t a trace of fear in his, even with the impending threat on his life. At this moment, he’s the bravest human being you know, perhaps foolishly so. “I will not abandon you. I made you a promise, yeah? You will stay here, with me, and he’s never going to touch you again.”

He’s your only hope at freedom, now, but it would all be meaningless if your freedom isn’t with him. Trying to match his courage, you do something you have been meaning to do for quite some time.

“You mean, you…?”

“Take this,” you say as you place his dreamcatcher in one of his palms and cover it with one of your own. You ignore his befuddled expression and put on probably the wettest smile you’ve ever had. “This is yours. It always has been. I’m yours, Oliver, and as long as you have that, you have my heart.”

Your own confession takes you by surprise – who knew you had it in you to finally reveal your forbidden affections? Judging by his astonished look, he couldn’t believe it, either.

“Yes, I do. I love you, you big dum-dum. I love you so much,” a fresh set of tears makes your voice tremble, but they’re happy ones, and when you hear Ollie chuckle as he hugs you again, you laugh with him. You had not laughed in days – his laugh is just that intoxicating.

He cuts your winded laughter off with the gentlest of kisses on your lips. Gladly, you wrap your arms around his neck, still clutching the dreamcatcher as tight as you can, leaning into his kiss. Once both let go, elated and breathless, he holds the sides of your face in both hands and brings your foreheads together.

“I know this isn’t the time, but I love you, Mera, so fucking much,” he says with the widest smile he could muster. “I never thought you’d come around, you know. It’s what I’ve always wanted, it feels just like a dream.”

“Then maybe it is time you woke up, Oliver Chapman.”

Ice-cold shivers wrack your body at the sound of the voice, resonating in the entire dream-space – one you had hoped never to hear again.

Dream of the Endless.

Your heart rate goes through the roof as every hair on your body stands on end. You find yourself rooted to the spot – when had he entered the dream? Had he been there the entire time, masking his presence? Even worse, had he been lurking while you and Ollie poured your heart out for each other? You hastily conceal the dreamcatcher behind your back, away from his burning gaze.

Ollie recognizes the being that has come to whisk you away; immediately he positions himself before you, hiding you from your master’s view to protect you.

“Mera, stay behind me,” he orders you calmly.

You peek behind his outstretched arms to get a glimpse of your King. His eyes, the first thing you see, are pitch-black, so far from the ones that looked at you with so much warmth in the first moments of existence. The Endless that you saw then is gone now, replaced by this monstrous nightmare, with unbridled fury emanating from him in visible waves of black smoke.

“You shouldn’t be here. This is my dream, and you’re not welcome in it. I have placed runes –”

“None of which can ward me off,” he interrupts with a clenched jaw and shaking fists, his voice seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, overwhelming your senses. He takes deliberate steps toward Ollie, his cold, coal eyes never once leaving Ollie’s warm greens.

“You really think that a mere lucid dreamer is a match to one such as I?” he spits out venomously. “I am Dream of the Endless, the King of Dreams and Ruler of Nightmares, the one whom you owe your dreaming abilities. There is not a place in the Dreaming I cannot penetrate.”

Ollie, undeterred by the mad King’s words, rises to his challenge. “You won't take her away – I won't let you. She clearly doesn't want to go with you, so you leave her alone.”

Don’t anger him any further, you want to say, but you seem to have lost the capacity to speak.

The Ruler of Nightmares scoffs, an icy sneer forming at the corner of his lips. “Your hypocrisy astounds me, doctor. Were you not the one who bound her to you and manipulated her against her wishes? The dreamcatcher, that pathetic human magic is proof of that.”

“I don't deny your accusations, but I have never manipulated her feelings. Her love is real, I know that now, and so is mine. I won't let you take that away from us!”

“Ollie, no…” your warning comes out barely a whisper.

He either does not hear it, or he chooses to ignore it, continuing his tirade against your creator.

“And what about you?” he points an accusing finger at him, outraged on your behalf. “What right do you think you have to order her around and make her do shit against her will? You think you’re God?”

But the Lord of Dreams just lets out a mirthless, sinister laugh – one that sends chilling shockwaves down your body. “I am more than a God: I am an Endless, and one that can unleash terrors you dare not speak of, so watch your tongue. Or should I send a nightmare to cut it out for you?” he tauntingly asks, his sand threateningly circling his raised palm.

Oliver just refuses to back down. Instead, he takes a step forward, goading him on. You grab his arms in an attempt to hold him back. “Just because you have the power, does not mean you can give life to somebody –”

“Oliver, don’t –!”

“ – And hold their autonomy against them, you sick, twisted fuck!”

“Enough!” Dream thunders, the intensity of his outburst making the floor beneath you quake momentarily. “I have had it with you foolish humans trapping beings beyond your comprehension, all for the sake of your selfish, paltry desires. I will not let you, a mere mortal, covet what is mine any longer.”

Before your eyes, your King, surrounded with black smoke manifesting his uncontrollable rage, raises a trembling hand. His sand swirls with growing speed around him, getting ready to strike. He’s going to hurt Ollie.

“My Lord, no, please, please don't hurt him...” you find the courage to step in between your lord and the man you love. You’re not about to let him hurt Ollie, and so, with your palms clasped right in front of you in prayer, you beg. “I'm the one at fault, so please punish me instead –”

“Mera no –”

“Mera, my little dream,” the Dream King’s attention turns towards you. He lowers his hand, his voice softening by a fraction as he addresses you. “How you disappoint me. You lied to me. You threw away a hundred years’ worth of devotion to me, all for this mortal? By loving him, you have betrayed me, defied my will, and abandoned your role in the Dreaming, yet you still protect the very man who led you astray.

“I shall give you this choice, then: you will give me that dreamcatcher or I will be forced to give your beloved doctor what he so foolishly seeks - an eternal sleep, where he could dream all he wants without waking - forever.”

Your head slowly shakes in disbelief. Ollie would suffer in perpetual sleep, haunted by nightmares he formed, and all because you had dared fall in love with him. Was that such a sin in his eyes?

“Please my Lord, you don’t have to do this…”

“My dream, you brought this on yourself. Tell me now, before I think of a greater punishment. What will you choose?”

You bite your lip in distress, eventually tasting blood. Your Lord always keeps his word. And like he always has done; he now has you against the wall. You were always his prey, running off into a trap he had set – and he, the predator, circling you, drawing out your suffering. And now, if you don’t let him pounce, he’d hone in on another victim. It’s either you or Ollie.

As sick as it sounds, for you, it’s an easy choice to make.

Your hesitation seems to give it away for Ollie. He takes a hold of you by the arms, turning you to face him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him.

“Mera, don't give it to him. Mera, look at me.” He cups your face so he could look into you. “I don't care if he makes me sleep forever. We'll be together, then! It'll be just us, in here, don't you want that?”

Oh, sweet, sweet Ollie. Fresh tears start rolling down your cheeks, and he makes a move to wipe them away, but with your free hand, you lower them.

“I want all your dreams to come true, Ollie.”

A smile starts to form on his face, but you cut him off.

“So make them come true, in the waking world –”

“No Mera –”

“They need you there. You'll do great things –”

“No! Mera, don't do this –”

“Please listen to me –”

“I won't let you – !”

“Please, my dear Ollie!” you desperately beg, placing your palm on his cheeks. You put on a reassuring smile to try and persuade him to save himself, but you're breaking on the inside and you could feel it. “Do it for me. You are meant to chase your dreams, so do it in the Waking World.” Better you hurt than he.

You peer into your beloved doctor's face. You see nothing in it but love, sorrow, and acceptance of your doomed fate. You hate that resignation in his eyes, but you look into them, nonetheless. In your mind, he’ll always have that cheeky smile and that bright spark, just like he did when he first started talking about his passion to help people dream better. You’ll always have that look, and him, in your heart. At that moment, both of you get lost in each other, even for a few final seconds.

"Go live the life you’ve always dreamed of – for me," you whisper. "And I'll be happy and content just knowing that you did."

Slowly, you let go of your doctor's face, but he takes your hands in his, kissing your palms, desperate for more contact.

"Mera, I love you. Please..."

"And I love you, Oliver Chapman; in the Dreaming, in the Waking, and in everywhere else in between."

You feel your world coming apart when you finally let go of him. With one final choked sob, you turn to face your Maker; the Endless whose unforgiving glare was enough to pin you to place. You could tell by his look that the display of your affections deeply repulsed him. You cling onto the dreamcatcher for comfort with trembling fingers. All you want to do is to curl up in a ball at how his pitch-black, pitiless eyes bore into yours, but you swallow back your fear. Ollie had shown immense courage for your sake – he deserved the same from you.

The Dream Lord, obviously growing more impatient by the minute, walks to you intimidatingly, his smoky coattail trialing him behind him. He yanks the dreamcatcher from your shaky grip with so much force he breaks a few of its strings. He spares one brief look of angered disgust at the insulting object before looking into your eyes and crushing the dreamcatcher with his bare hands. Not once did he look away from you as the totem, a symbol of your slight against him, turns dust in his powerful fist.

Your heart clenches in pain, almost as if it was your heart your creator just crushed. Anguish washing over you, you collapse on the floor and clutch your chest, letting out a silent scream you try to hide from Ollie. The Endless, unmoved at the pitiful scene unfolding before him, strides purposefully over to Ollie with his pouch of sand in his hands. Panic immediately engulfs you, and you get to your feet, staggering toward them.

"My Lord, please, I did what you asked of me..."

Your words do not deter your creator, who promptly blows sand in your Ollie's face. The sleep doctor vanishes in a flurry of sand, gone forever.

"NO! OLIVER!"

What has he done? You double over in your grief, already fearing the worst.

"You promised you wouldn't hurt him…”

"I did not."

Morpheus turns to look at your quivering form hunched on the floor, face as stony as ever.

"I merely sent him back to the waking world."

But his words offer you no relief.

"He will, however, have no memory of you, of your time spent together, nor of his love," he continues with a snarl, "...for you. You are now, to him, a fleeting, fading recollection, a mere dream he had which he will forget at the first few moments of his waking hours. Nothing more, as it should be."

Your eyes, already blurry with the tears you shed at your beloved's parting, grow wide at this revelation – the King of Nightmares, living up to his title, yet you know you had barely seen his true form. There seem to be no other words you can place for what he has done.

"You're heartless." It comes out barely a whisper, yet your master hears your words clearly. He seems to be unaffected by them.

"No. I could have punished you, cast you to the darkness for openly lying, attempting to leave my Realm, and abandoning your King and master. Yet I have not, for I acknowledge that you had no hand in your capture."

Gathering all the strength you could muster, you stand to your full height. "I'd have rather you cast me to the darkness, my King. I no longer have a purpose or a reason to live. You already took him from me."

He takes an intimidating step forward, invading your personal space like he always does. With your master's face a few inches away from yours, you look away, wishing his callousness was directed at anything but you. He harshly lifts your chin with his forefinger and thumb.

He speaks, his voice slightly shaking with barely controlled rage, "Is this what it feels like to you, my Mera? Have you truly any idea what it is like to feel aimless, without purpose? Perhaps I can give you a taste."

You swallow the bile forming in your throat at the threat, but you could no longer bring yourself to care about what he can do to you. He has done the worst possible thing you can imagine.

"I hereby strip you of all your Dreaming powers. You shall be kept locked in your chambers, without any contact from outside.”

With this declaration, he uses his sand to transport you both to the prison cell he calls ‘your room.’ In the blink of an eye and a swirl of sand, you appear in your quarters, expecting the natural sunlight streaming from the windows to almost blind you, but the warmth does not come. Instead, you’re enveloped in the dim light source that is the starry ceiling above; the windows and the balcony are gone, replaced by nothing but solid walls, effectively holding you in your own, personal insane asylum.

"Here, you shall spend your time in isolation, contemplating your transgressions, your betrayal against the Dreaming and against me.” His scathing voice echoes around the dimly-lit room. "Call upon my name when you are ready to fulfill your purpose to me. Only then will I free you from this place and forgive you of all your offenses. Be warned, my Mera - Endless as I am, my patience is not."

And with that thinly veiled threat, he vanishes, leaving no trace of his presence, save a trail of sand falling to the carpet, leaving you alone in deafening silence.

Just as you start getting used to the quiet lull of your surroundings, you hear a piercing, tortured wail bouncing off the walls. Gasping for air and clutching your throat in pain, you barely recognize your own unearthly screaming. You collapse on the bed in renewed sobbing, wishing that your Dream Lord had indeed been ruthless enough to spare you the torment and just banished you to inexistence.

Ollie had gone to the Waking World and had forgotten about you. The only thing left in you are memories of him, ad in your solitary confinement, nothing stopped you from reliving them; every snarky comment he ever made, every bawdy joke he ever told, every fleeting touch you shared with him. It made your loss even more unbearable, but what else could you do but stew in them? His was the only memory you had worth recalling in your existence, yet he had none of yours. It was the spiteful King’s idea of retribution meant to wash away your sins.

***

You spend the next three days in absolute misery. Refusing to get out of bed, you stay curled up in a ball, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, warming you but never comforting you in your heartbreak.

He materializes in a spinning whirl of sand inside your bedchambers. It’s a pure display of power at this point, for he hadn’t removed the door to your room, even if he had it locked. You kind of half-expected him to close the distance at once, kissing you in greeting like he always did. Instead, he just stands there, intensifying the already-gloomy atmosphere in the room. Out of habit, you get up and bow your head slightly, even if you were still in your nightdress.

Languidly, he makes his way to you, pausing until he’s an arm’s length away, looking down on you with a reproachful look.

“You have not called upon me for forgiveness.”

You flinch the moment he raises his hand – only for him to lift your chin so you had no other choice except to look at him.

You give him the blankest of looks, unsure how to respond.

“The sooner you accept your fate, the sooner I can end your confinement. So, I will ask you again, my little dream,” he says in a low voice, leaning downwards so his face is but a hairbreadth away from yours. “Will you carry out your duty?”

Your response is barely a whisper, fanning the hair framing his forehead.

“I cannot possibly do what you’re asking me, my King. I am only a dream, so why me? Why make me suffer so for it?”

“You are more than a dream to me, my Mera. Out of all my creations, I treasure you, love you the most.” For a moment, his expression changes, but that tenderness in his gaze is gone in a flash. “Which is why, out of all the treason my subjects have committed, yours was the most painful. It is within my right as your King to pass judgment. And yet, it is within your power to end your penance.”

He whispers, “You need only do one thing.”

At the end of his last sentence, he angles his head – your noses touch, but he doesn’t press his lips on yours like you expected him to.

“Seek my pardon, and I can make it go away.” He whispers against your lips.

But if you do, it would mean admitting that Ollie was a mistake.

“No. My love for Ollie is no sin. I have nothing to ask for forgiveness for.”

You don’t regret your words, even as your master grabs the back of your neck forcefully to pull you closer to him, making your noses touch.

“You dare speak his name in my presence…” he hisses.

Closing your eyes, you feel his lips ravish yours in a vicious kiss, seeking to possess – in its force you’re pushed back into one of the bedposts. His unforgiving grip on your jaw forces your mouth open, coercing you to kiss him back. He abruptly pulls his head back when he feels a wetness on your cheeks.

Tears.

Despite the salty discharge, you stare at him with defiance.

“You still love that worthless mortal,” he concludes with a faint amount of sick amusement. “I have not decided the form of judgment I should pass on him. Should you prolong this further, it would give me more time to create potent nightmares tailored to his fears.”

He seems to relish the way your lips tremble in terror. The thought of Ollie getting nightmares especially made for him makes your empty stomach churn.

“Or shall I remake the Corinthian and send him to plague your mortal alone? He was and still is, my perfect nightmare. The both of you, my errant creations, so perfect in every way, yet so flawed…Renounce your love for the human now, and I shall be merciful.”

But he doesn’t see you fervently shake your head, for he closes in on your throat, planting wet, open-mouthed caresses on your skin. You make a move to push him away on his shoulder, but he grabs your wrist harshly and pins them above your head on the bedpost. It was no use struggling against him in his firm hold, so you close your eyes, imagining you were somewhere else, as you feel his free hand roaming your still-clothed form, desperate to feel your warmth. As his tongue lavishes your pulse point, you let out an involuntary moan.

“Ollie…”

By the time you realize your grave error, your Dream Lord has already pulled back, tugging on your hair with enough force to make you gasp in pain.

He looks at you with a dark, displeased expression, seething in anger. “I have tried being patient with you, my dream, but you truly test me.”

“My Lord, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –”

Your frantic apologies are drowned out by a maelstrom of sand engulfing the both of you. As you feel the sand disappear, you hear the loud rumble of thunder, followed by the thrashing of waves of an ocean in a raging storm.

You open your eyes to a different room. Your master had transported you somewhere else, but where it was is unclear – the room, however, looks to be inside an old castle. You can see the exposed stone bricks in its interior; against its closed, murky windows the rain outside pelted hard, offering you a view outside: deep, gray skies that littered with flashes of lightning, and a sea that tossed violently against the harsh winds. You’re now far from the Dreaming palace, you know that much. He had taken you here to isolate you even further.

The King before you places a firm hand on your shoulder, forcing you to sit on something soft – a huge bed covered in sheets of silk in the colour of his long coat, which you notice had already fallen to the floor. You pointedly avoid looking at him, your face turned to the side, fidgeting with the sheet. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see him shed his shoes, followed by his shirt. Suddenly, your breathing becomes more laboured, and you could hear your own pounding heartbeat despite the furious storm outside.

“My Lord, where have you taken me?” you start softly, attempting to distract him.

“Where we shall not be disturbed,” he says simply.

It’s when you hear him undo his belt that you make a last-ditch attempt to save yourself evade him and jump to the side of the bed to get as far away from him as you can.

It’s a futile move – you find yourself lying on your stomach, your right arm awkwardly buried underneath your body, and a taut, heavy, naked chest pressed against your back.

Your Dream Lord has you pinned beneath him, his thighs straddling your waist.

“No!” you cry out in distress; it’s the only thing you could do against the impregnable force pinning you to the bed without any wriggle room. You could feel his hot breath fanning the back of your neck. In response, he whispers over your ear:

“I grow tired of your refusal, dream of mine. You will carry out your duty to me tonight.”

“No, my Lord, please, please, I beg of you…”

But your fraught whimpers fall on deaf ears.

You feel a hot, wet kiss on your exposed shoulder, while a lazy finger traces your spine. To your horror, you only notice that your nightdress has disappeared when trails of sand enter your line of vision, before promptly vanishing into thin air. You’re completely bare under his gaze, and like a starved man, he feasts – his hot mouth starts leaving butterfly kisses on your upper back as he strokes the sides of your waist, while you lay below him, sobbing in earnest and unable to move.

“Please, no, please, no, no…My Lord, please…”

“You will not deny your King,” he growls against your back, gripping your waist tight. “For every ‘no’ I hear from you during our union, I will create a ferocious nightmare that will follow only your pathetic human until his end of days. Will you be responsible for the madness he will surely turn to?”

Still weeping piteously, your closed eyes flash vivid images of Ollie thrashing in his bed, screaming in his sleep at horrors only he could see.

For the last time, it seems, your Dream Lord had you effectively backed into a corner with no chance of escaping. The predator had grown weary of circling its prey and had now pounced, ready to devour.

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

Author notes on the Chapter:

Ollie and Dream's confrontation is the most challenging dialogue I have ever written. Next chap with will be full of smut, smut smut, so be prepared!! (I need to be, too, it seems - writing smut can be intimidating af lmao)

As usual, thank you for sticking with me in this!! Love lots!!!

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

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby@endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 12/26/22

Edit date: 12/26/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsetsts

@izziclee

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@sarahbullet235

@blu3what

@justporple

@emy635

@ggxsan

No kidding but my first thought in this "wait....aren't they siblings?" Then I remember I ship targaryen couples😂..

.

The incestry feels of this fic no longer deters me ever since HOTD yassified incest..

𓅨 As Dawn Breaks: Chapter One

As Dawn Breaks: Mother Night and Father Time, after having sired seven Endless to personify life in the known universe, create Earth and human life begins. One last Endless is created: Dawn, the personification of illumination and hope, the beginning of a new day, and a chance for happiness and improvement. A love will span thousands of millennia, breaking with every sunrise and renewing hope come sunset. Yet, even the personification of hope can lose the very notion of her existence from the sting of a broken heart.

Warnings: None. 

To Note: Dream/Morpheus x Endless!FemaleReader(Dawn), This Involves Themes That Are Not For Everyone. 

Word Count: ~2.7k

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Mother Night and Father Time created the seven Endless to personify life within the known universe. Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delirium. They did their jobs admirably, and well, for eons. Destiny personified a life journey. Death, the end of life. Dream oversaw the dreams and nightmares. Destruction, so that creation may happen from ruin. Desire embodied the darkest secrets one held. Despair embodied a feeling that all lifeforms felt at some point in their life and the youngest of the Endless? Delirium, the epitome of chaos and previously known as Delight. All was well within the universe, millennia going by in harmony. Then a life-sustaining planet came to be and it quickly became abundantly clear that the new race of sentient life was lacking in one last personification. So Mother Night and Father came together to create one last Endless. You. 

You were created on a bed of lavender and stars, swathed in blankets of shimmering ebony. Against your naked breast lay a morning dove whose wings were of grey and pink. You had been woven from stars, oceans, and daffodils to culminate the very essence of what you were to represent: hope. You would rise and fall with the sun and moon, come and go like the great tides of oceans, and feel with the crescendo of the tallest waterfall. The capacity in which you were created to understand and feel human emotion was like none of the previous Endless before you. Eyes flickering open, you saw the inky black of the universe, touched with stars, planets, and dust. You had the knowledge of the universe, but the sight before you still took your breath away. 

Rising from your cradle, dove fluttering into space, you felt the blankets that had been covering you, travel and drape across your body until you were dressed in a simple onyx shift. Your eyes gazed out at the universe in wisdom and innocence, enraptured by the overwhelming beauty and life that stretched out before you. Your dove fluttered in front of you and holding your hands out, you let her land on your joined fingers. She was your companion your creators had gifted to you, she would represent you, be your sigil, be your closest friend. Cradling her light body in one hand, you stroked a finger over her head and down her soft grey back speckled with black. She cooed at you and leaned into your shift, her black eyes closing in contentment. Already you could feel the bond you shared with her. While you stroked your companion, you felt a shiver run across your shoulders. You looked up into the vastness of space, feeling Mother Time and Father Night. 

They did not need to speak physical words to convey their message to you. You had a job that they were entrusting you with, the entire reason for your creation after so many eons of on seven Endless. You were to personify the one natural force that life could not exist without. It was a daunting task but you, in your newborn state, were ready to take on such a task. As your creators drew back to return to their duties, you felt a ripple of energy and then the blossom of seven powers much like your own. Your predecessors had arrived. Holding your dove close to your body, you slowly turned around, your bare feet sliding across space rocks and rubble. The seven Endless, eons older than you, were lined up in order by creation. The oldest, Destiny, spoke to you first. 

“We welcome you, sister,” Destiny had a kind voice and was draped in cloth, his face covered. You knew he could not see but he still had sight and saw the possibilities of everything. “To the beginning of the endless and all that you may bring to creation.” He was wise and all-knowing, a heavy burden you could feel.

“Come now brother, you don’t need to be so formal and mystique,” Death interjected, kind brown eyes looking at you with softness. She held so much life behind her eyes, despite the very task she was made for. 

“Mystique? It’s rather amusing, actually,” Desire cooed, their golden eyes washing over your form and to the little dove you held against your bosom. “Our parents appear to have made such a fragile and innocent Endless, how are you to help creation?” You remained silent to their provoking words. “Will you not speak little dove? Surely we aren’t that terrifying.” Your head tilted to the side in curiosity as the older siblings proceeded to chide Desire for attempting to pick on you. Desire merely rolled their golden eyes. 

“Dawn has been made as Mother Night and Father Time bid, Desire,” Destiny called out, shifting his grasp on the book chained to his wrist. “We shall leave our new sibling to her new realm.” The siblings bid their farewells, giving you curious last looks for your lack of speech. As Desire prepared to return to their realm, a voice broke the silence in a sweet almost intangibly beautiful lit. 

“Tell me, Desire,” You spoke, your eyes focused on Desire as the rest of the siblings turned around in surprise. Gently, you moved your hands away from your body and held out the one holding your dove within. “What is life without hope?” Your dove soared from your hands into the blanket of deep space, speckled heather gray wings stretched out. As flower petals started to swirl around the skirt of your shift, you gave Desire the briefest of smiles, your eyes glowing with the embers of your true power. Then you disappeared in a swirl of flower petals and stardust, leaving behind the nest of lavender and stars you had been born in. 

To the surprise of their siblings, Desire let out a genuine laugh and smiled deviously. 

“Well, what do you know? She has a backbone after all. What fun she’ll be,” They mused with sly rhetoric. A red shimmer surrounded Desire. “I like her already, I wonder what other surprises Dawn holds behind those innocent eyes of hers.” Destiny, Death, and Dream were the last to leave and the three oldest siblings exchanged looks. 

“It is troubling that Desire has taken a liking to our newest sibling.” Death commented softly, looking to Destiny. Destiny did not immediately reply, his mind absorbed in the endless futures of the newest edition to the small family. 

“Hmm, sibling, I do not believe… not purpose, hope…” He trailed off, his mind fully entranced in the future and possibilities of Dawn of the Endless. Dream and Death watched as he walked away disappearing in a fade.

“Do you think that Desire shall tempt her?” Dream asked, addressing his remaining sibling. Death considered what she had witnessed and what she could feel from their new sibling. 

“I believe that it is far too early to assume anything about Dawn, for we do not know who she is as an Endless, what she is like, or what she is capable of. We all could feel the immense power Mother and Father placed within her… only time shall tell.” A troublesome thought, Dream considered as he returned himself to his realm, questing the intersection of dreams and hopes. He was sure that out of the siblings, you would have the most interaction with him. After all, what was life, what were dreams, without hope?

Your realm was called The Gardens, but unlike the eldest Endless, yours was not a labyrinth. No, your realm was the epitome of all beauty found within a garden. Lofting waterfalls, endless woodlands, lakes, rivers, and oceans, and homes made from the trunks of trees. At the very heart rested the citadel, your home. It was a sprawling stone fortress that looked overgrown with trees and vines… but make no mistake, the flora was the very lifeblood of your home and was the brick and mortar that held the space together. In total, your realm housed a culmination of mythical creatures from those that took shelter within the tallest of trees, to those that slept in the deepest depths of the ocean, only surfacing when the moon was at its peak. You rather liked having the creatures mortals only dreamed of, inhabiting your realm, it made it extra special. 

You had surrounded yourself with dryads to take care of the living gardens that popped up sporadically within the citadel, and they also helped you keep track of the growing count of hopes that appeared within your library. With each passing year, the numbers grew exponentially and you were well busy. The hopes that the precious humans had were Endless. You supposed that is what gave them their charm. 

“… remind you that the spring flooding in the Flowering Wetlands has, once again, displaced several Will-o'-the-wisp families, three Naiad families, and—“ Rita passed to look at the scroll in her hand, her green finger running down the list. “Ah, yes, the Jengu has decided to make home in the papyrus again, farming has been… difficult. Bezia, I think her name is?”

Pausing in your efforts to prune the over-growing vine of ivy vines within the heart of your citadel, you looked at the stressed Ruta, your head handmaiden. 

“Take a group of handmaidens to reconstruct the flooded homes, I’ll talk with Bezia. I’m sure there is something we can do about her residency” You told her, returning your pruning clippers to the basket of garden tools. The skirt of your dress swirled around your bare feet as you approached Ruta and looked at the scroll in her hands. The spring floods caused mayhem each and every year, but the residents of the Flowering Wetlands refused to live anywhere else. You had no issue with that and were glad to help rebuild what got ruined every year… but Bezia the Jengu, or swamp mermaid, repeatedly used the flooding to take residence in the papyrus fields. You couldn’t have that because it impeded parchment production for the library… but you couldn’t exactly remove Bezia from what made her happy. 

“I see that you have a plan, my lady?” Ruta questioned with a knowing smile. You smiled back and looked up at the sky that shone in the open courtyard

“I’ll be back soon, expect the realm to tremble with change anew,” You spoke over your shoulder, flower petals and stardust swirling around you. Your dove cooed overhead seconds before you and her disappeared. Your journey to the Flowering Wetlands only took seconds and soon you were standing knee-deep within muddy waters, floating plants and flowers surrounding you. Your dove cooed and fluttered down to your shoulder. Scanning the papyrus around you, you spotted a glimmer of a green tail before it disappeared beneath the water. “Bezia?” You called, slowly walking towards the Jengu. 

You spotted the mischievous Jengu watching you from the shallow waters, swimming between the papyrus plants and never staying in one spot. 

“Bezia, I wish to speak to you, will you not pause in your mischief merry-making?” You called out. There was another splash, and you saw her tail flick a couple of plants before she popped out of the water in front of you. The dark-skinned Jengu eyed you wearily, her tail swishing about in nervous energy. “You can’t keep taking residence among the papyrus fields, Bezia, we need them for the library.” Her facial features scrunched in distaste.

“The papyrus fields are the best home to have, my lady, the salt water chafes my skin and the freshwater doesn’t feel right on my fins,” Bezia replied, flashing you her pointed teeth. Your eyes flickered around you, observing the papyrus fields.

“Which is why I shall make an extension to the Flowering Wetlands to provide you with a home you may take residence in year-round.” You explained to her, a kind expression on your face. “I do not wish for the residents of my realm to feel not at home, that includes you Bezia.” 

The Jengu regarded you carefully, assessing to see if you spoke the truth. Then she nodded. With your eyes sparking to life, you looked to the heavens of your realm and raised your arms, shifting and molding the nearby landscape to stretch and bend, expand and reform. Muddy water sloshed against your dress, staining the white fabric as you worked. When you were done, there was a winding path through the papyrus fields that led to a new grove. In that grove were twisting vines and flowers that wove halls and rooms, a perfect home for any Jengu that further sought home. Bezia’s eyes glowed with happiness, and without a thank you or word, she swam her way to the newly made grove with the excitement of a child. 

You smiled, knowing that she would be much happier now that she had a place to call her own. Raising your eyes to the heavens of your realm, you spent a moment enjoying the nice breeze breaking through the heat of early summer. While you were closing your eyes and feeling the soft gales caressing your body, you felt a summons. 

Dawn, I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil. I request permission to visit your realm to speak with you on a matter regarding recent dreams. 

You blinked and your lips parted as you exhaled. You could see in your mind's eye that he held an ivory dove in his hands, his starlit eyes staring down into the carved sigil. 

As long as my gates remain open, Dream, you are free to visit me however you shall design. My gates welcome you, you may meet me in my courtyard, I will be but a moment. 

You felt Dream acknowledge your words and enter your realm, his presence emerging within your palace walls. His presence always made you feel more connected to the Waking World. While you carried their hopes, Dream carried their dreams, and together you made dreams come true. Blinking out of your inner thoughts, you looked down at your soiled dress. It wasn’t completely ruined… so gripping the part of it that was mud-stained, you began ripping the hem. Your dress hem was torn to your knees by the time you decided you were satisfied with your work. Wiping your damp palms on the skirt of your dress, you focused on transporting yourself back to the citadel. Ruta will be happy to know that Bezia would no longer be a problem among the papyrus fields. 

Walking barefoot down a hallway you spotted Ruta speaking with Zinnia, the dryad who was in charge of keeping the rooms tidy and neat. In other words, making sure that the plants that intertwined with the castle didn’t get overzealous in their growth.

“My lady,” The dryads echoed as you approached them. Ruta peered at you with a knowing look. 

“I take it out papyrus problem is no more?” You smiled and bowed your head.

“A minor adjustment to the realm was all that was needed, Ruta. There was no malignancy behind Bezina’s actions.” Ruta bobbed her head and drew a line through a point in her checklist. 

“I thought so, I have a few more items to sort out within the Forest of Songs… but I can do that by myself. I believe Lord Dream is waiting for you within your courtyard?” 

“Yes, we have business,” You confirmed, your eyes lifting to the hall that led to the inner sanctum of the palace. “Please contact me if you run into any more problems, Ruta.”

“Of course my lady,” Ruta replied before she and Zinnia bid their farewells and departed. You resumed your course to your courtyard, walking beneath the curtained waterfall that flowed at all four entrances of the open space. At your footfalls, Dream, who had been standing and observing the pond in the very center of the courtyard, turned around. His eyes met yours, then widened when he took in your state. 

“Apologies for my state of dress, I was assisting with the spring floods within the Flowering Wetlands and it gets… muddy this year,” You said in a soft explanation. Dream’s lips twitched at your words. “You said you had a matter of recent dreams you wished to speak of? How may I help you?” 

Date Published: 1/16/23

Last Edit: 1/16/23

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god x worshipper trope pls

has anyone ever written a morpheus x reader with a god x worshipper trope??? its all thats been on my mind like imagine a REALLY devoted mortal praying/worshipping him idk HAHSHAHSHA it reminds me of the song crucified by army of lover

like imagine him being really caught off guard by this really devote mortal who borderline worships the ground he walks on and prays to him almost everyday

adding onto my morpheus god x worshipper trope post idea,

conntext: basically i really want a god x worshipper trope x reader fic with morpheus where plot twist /YOU/ are worshipping, infatuated, and very much so passionate with him and not the other way around

imagine the really devoted mortal being borderline OBSESSED and so worshippy around him to the point hes so confused

"i'd die for him" "please do not" - probably morpheus

crucified by army of lovers is still very much so the main theme song for this bc i imagine the really devoted mortal just praying with their eyes closed with tears in their eyes bc theyre THAT type of devotee

theyre so devoted they even DREAM abt him and what better way to call for the dream lord but to dream about him in so much more detail

like the dream is of u in a church or temple of sorts and just . praying to this sistine chapel esque art of him and hes so 👁👄👁 watching it all

i imagine morpheus gets so sick of it/is mildly intriuged/very much disturbed of all of it to the point they visit the mortal in all his brooding glory

and the mortal just . DROPS TO THEIR KNEES AT HIS PRESENCE AND HES SO "?!?!?!?!?!?!"

anyway im not a writer so like

thinking abt if i should try my hand at writing on here abt the morpheus x reader (god x worshipper) trope 🤔🤔🤔 i havent really posted any of my writing stuff in fear of getting judged HAHSAHSHAH

Divine Dream Of The Endless, I Shall Serve You So, My Lord Morpheus.

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream x Gender-Neutral!Reader

Trope: God x Worshipper, God x Devotee

Content Warning: Alluding to religious imagery, nothing spicy tho

Rating: Mature, Comedy (No Smut)

Summary: You've devoted your entire mortal being to Morpheus. He doesn't understand why.

Word Count: 2,760

Disclaimer: This is only for fun and I am in no way shape or form trying to dictate what Morpheus would do!

~

You sighed dreamily as you looked up at the skies, hands clasped together tightly against your chest, whispering words of both tender and intimate worship to the one and only Lord Of Dreams And Nightmares. You don’t exactly dwell on the details of how it started– how this devoutness (some would say, obsession), for a seemingly forgotten god came from.

To put it bluntly, you didn’t mind people’s stares whenever you talked about your savior. Why would their words matter when only his did? Fortunately, your friends still supported you in any way they can (albeit with looks of worry and confusion).

“ ‘Lord’ Morpheus? You mean one of Hypnos’ many children?” Your friend who was particularly interested in mythologies asked. You and them had planned to meet up at your apartment to simply hang out. They figured that you needed at least a little time not wasting your every breath singing phrases to your supposedly fictional god. To their surprise, you vehemently shook your head in “no” before your eyes glistened as you thought about your lord even more. 

“He comes with many names, be it Oneiros, Morpheus, Shaper Of Forms, Kai’ckul,” A dopey smile adorned your face as your friend looked at you with slight concern and disturbance.

“Sandman, Lord Of Dreams, and–” You stopped to take a breath, breathing in heavily before exhaling in deep admiration. “Dream.”

As you talked on and on about how glorious and magnificent your one true savior is, your friend couldn’t help but just stare in shock at how extremely devoted and obsessed you were.

“How did this even start..?” Their question made you halt in your ramblings as your eyes glistened even more (if that was even possible) as you recounted the tale of how you came to know such a sacred figure or deity.

(Your friend could do nothing more but only get goosebumps as you talked more and more about him. It kind of sounded like you were in a cult.)

“Well, of course my lord introduced himself to me in his most beautiful creations…”

… A dream. It all started with a dream. You remember waking up in a meadow that was so peaceful you could just close your eyes and let yourself sink into the soil and let nature take its course. You laid there for a moment, basking in the seemingly absent sun and its rays, sighing deeply and enjoying the peacefulness.

The peacefulness was interrupted by a quiet russell in the bushes ahead of you.

You opened your eyes, slightly inconvenienced at the noise. Begrudgingly, you carefully got up in order to not disturb the local flowers you had spotted near you. As you made your way through the meadow, a being with greatly beautiful features that both scared and intoxicated you came into view.

They lifted their head up, their blonde hair swaying with the wind. Their beautiful gold eyes met with yours, before a cheshire grin took hold on their face.

They said your name in what would be the human equivalent of a purr, causing your face to heat up before you approached them slowly, feeling the light tickle of the grass on your feet.

“Who… Who are you…?” You asked meekly, mesmerized yet overwhelmed by their appearance. The wind pushed you away from them, almost as if warning you of their presence.

They looked pensively at you for a moment, before shrugging and speaking in a silky voice.

“Let’s just say… I’m a prophet that's been sent to give you a message.” They snickered, before beckoning you to come closer. Their grin never faltered as they spoke, it even looked like it grew wider if you looked close enough. The grass continued to tickle at your feet.

To their surprise, you deadpanned at them and immediately turned on your heel to walk away. You just wanted to enjoy this meadow more yet this weirdo disturbed your peace. Clicking their tongue, they grabbed you by the arm. 

“Wait,” They whispered in your ear, causing shivers to go down your spine. 

“Don’t you want to meet your lord and savior?”

“My lord and… what now?” Their grin grew even wider.

As they recounted stories about this king…. this King Of Dreams, you suddenly felt pulled to his very essence as your heart weighed heavier and heavier as the mysterious beauty described him to you. You tried to shake off this feeling, but you could not stop it from weighing over your shoulders.

A black feather (in the back of your head, it was telling you it was a raven’s) materialized itself in front of you along with a five pointed star. Your eyes darted to the alluring being beside you, before your hand slowly reached for them, as if they were calling you. 

And as soon as you touched both things, you were hit with the overwhelming knowledge and stories about him– about Morpheus. 

His form flashed in your mind, and your brain made sure to trace every little feature it can. From the shine on his ebony hair– to the cool ivory of his soft skin, to the elegant sweep of his raven black coat. And those eyes. Those eyes pierced your very being as you saw dreams, hope, and fantasy swirl into a vortex within them.

You fell to your knees, gasping softly, before looking up at the stranger with the golden eyes beside you. You felt your eyes pricking with tears as you burned his image in your mind. Your lord. Your savior.

They grinned once more, kneeling down and taking your hand in theirs before kissing your knuckles softly. 

“Is this not what you desire?”

You sighed wistfully as you finished the story, your hands clasped tightly together in a habit, while your friend just stared at you with worry and concern.

“Isn’t he wonderful-?” “Dude, I think you should look into paranormal investigators.”

After smacking your friend’s shoulder multiple times as they teased you under their breath whilst laughing, you both resumed doing the activity you planned to do. And it was almost like a switch was turned off. 

Whenever one asks about who you’re praying to, your face contorts into one of ecstasy and love. But if one were to change the subject, you’d get back to being your “normal self.”

Soon, the sky turned into a hue of dancing purples and blues– indicating your friend would have to take their leave. They bid you goodbye, ruffling your hair on their way to the door. You chuckled and waved goodbye, before the switch was turned on again.

You spent the rest of the evening worshiping and bomboarding your dearest deity with compliments. Your lips composed a ballad of praise and flattery entangled into an elegant dance reserved for him and only for him. 

Soon enough, soft murmurs filled the air as you felt overwhelming love and admiration pour from your heart, your eyes pricking with tears once again (ever since you became a proud devotee of his, this always seemed to happen). Gently wiping the tears from your eyes, you checked the time and quickly prepared to go to bed– excited to visit his realm.

~

Morpheus, even as he did not know he was capable of doing such a thing, gulped.

Morpheus heard it– he heard all of it. Your desperate prayers that you chanted like a mantra everyday, your eyes so full of devotion and sincerity. He didn’t know what to feel about it.

Frankly, Morpheus felt awfully awkward and stiff to be the subject of such high praises and worship. Let alone a mere mortal’s worship, in the modern times at that.

If Morpheus had it in him, he would cough awkwardly in his sleeve to disguise his confusion and stiffness, but he could not. All he could do was keep his head high and watch your dreams at the sidelines. And heaven’s name, they were always so detailed and vivid!

He sensed the air shift around him, alerting him of your slumber. Letting curiosity take over him, he personally went to your own dream, though he made sure not to let Lucienne and Matthew know (who were all too familiar with your antics).

Soon, Morpheus came face to face with what looked like a cathedral, temple, and chapel all mixed into one. Its shape was constantly changing in small yet noticeable details, referencing your mind’s subconsciousness on what this certain architecture represented.

Hesitantly, he pushed open the doors, making sure not to make a sound. His eyes scanned the area, looking for you before coming to a rest when he spotted you at the very front, kneeling and clasping your hands tightly like you always did.

Your soft low voice can be heard echoing throughout the building as you let out a breath and looked up at the art piece in front of you. He was pretty sure he could see a few tears stain the bench you were resting on.

Wait a minute.

Morpheus’ gaze followed yours…. Before he came face to face with a stained glass painting of… himself in all his naked glory, with only his helm and pouch among his person. The painting constantly shifted from being stained glass to a canvas painting. 

Morpheus did not know which one was worse or if either were flattering at all. (At least you had the decency to censor his private parts with a leg, he supposed.)

His usual brooding face was filled with bewilderment, intrigue, a bit of flattery, and disturbance. Even in your dreams you choose to worship him? Dream Of The Endless? Not even Desire? Death? Destiny? You chose him of all beings?

Morpheus vaguely hears the loud laughter of his sister as he tells her of your unwavering devotion.

He suddenly came to a still, something in the air had suddenly changed.

 Morpheus’ face of mixed emotions is suddenly replaced with alarm as he gazes at you sharply. Through means even he did not know of, you had somehow sensed he was in your dream. 

Your head quickly snapped back as your eyes met with his. His eyes widened and in an instant, Morpheus fled and dematerialized out of your dream. 

You awoke with a startle as you gasped for air, clutching your chest. You felt disoriented, mouth feeling dry as you looked over at the clock stand. 3:33 am. For a few moments, you focused on evening out your heavy breathing, drinking the cup of water that was on your bed stand. Soon however, your emotion of startle morphed into one of loving as you felt your face heat up. 

Putting a hand to your cheek, you looked above you with such adoration and affection. He visited. You grinned gleefully, bearing the image of a child receiving their favorite toy. You stayed like that for a few beats before deciding to go back to laying down and continue dreaming.

Morpheus, who was standing in the corner of your room could not do anything but watch you in utter bafflement as he saw how true and deep your never-dying devotion was.

Though he was never a being of many words, Morpheus had found himself truly at a loss for words.

~

You felt your own heartbeat quicken as you giddily prepared yourself some breakfast. The King Of Dreams personally visited you! You were chuckling and swaying as you felt your face heating up almost as hot as the eggs you were cooking. The King Of Dreams visited!

From outside your window, a certain talking raven looked at you with what could only be described as judgment and unease before he flew back to his master who was waiting just outside of your house. Morpheus looked at him expectantly, not daring to utter your name. 

If Matthew could, he would scratch the back of his head in nervousness.

“They’re… okay…. Nothin’ suspicious going on apart from the…'' The raven paused, unsure how to word this to his master who was already disassociating as we speak (can the endless even do that?), “.... usual.” He squeaked (squawked) out.

Morpheus let out a breath he did not know he was holding before he spoke with what sounded like encouragement to himself. “Very well.” He lifted his head up in fake confidence. “I shall speak with them.” Matthew tilted his head. 

“Uh... about what, boss?” About everything. He thought, and as though Matthew could read his mind, the raven nervously perched onto his shoulder as support.

You were happily transferring your breakfast from your pan to your plate, when a figure suddenly appeared in the middle of your kitchen, causing you to shriek and almost drop your breakfast. You quickly placed it on the table (making sure the food was unharmed) before putting your spatula in front of you in defense.

The tall dark man gazed at you pointedly, before raising an eyebrow at the spatula you had pointed at him. Your mind came to a stop as you took in his features. Black hair… Pale skin… A coat so long it pooled at the end…

Your eyes gazed over the raven perched on his shoulder, before you gasped as the fear in your features washed away.

“You’re…. You’re Dream.” You said, breathless.

“And you.. are wishing to defend yourself with that.” Was all he replied, gesturing vaguely to the spatula in your hands. 

You gasped and dropped the spatula. “Forgive me!”

Much to his and the raven’s surprise, you quickly pushed away your spatula and dropped to your knees in front of him, your forehead touching the floor. “My lord.” You said with so much passion and faithfulness, he could do nothing more but to tear his eyes away from your quivering form.

Morpheus stood there stiffly for a few moments, not knowing what to do. Sure, he’s had his fair share of worshippers but it’s been over centuries since he has seen someone so devoted to him in mind, body, and soul. He did not like this feeling. This feeling of uncertainty, of blundering. Morpheus did not like the feeling of being awkward.

He cleared his throat, stopping himself from shifting from one foot to the other. 

“You may rise.” Your eyes locked with him for a few moments, and it took all of his essence to not look away from your intense glistened gaze filled with adoration, passion, and devotion. He inhaled deeply. An endless should not yield to a mere mortal.

You slowly stood up, head still in a bow as a respect from him. You noticed his clenched knuckles and quickly shrank into yourself, not knowing what you had done wrong. Morpheus had taken notice of this and breathed in deeply to compose himself, before relaxing some of his own body parts.

“Tell me, dear dreamer,” He started in his honey-filled voice that you swore you could listen to for days. Faintly, you can hear your friends’ voice in the back of your head saying, “He should start a podcast!” 

“What is the purpose of your rather… intimate prayers to the King Of Dreams… and Nightmares?” Morpheus emphasized the last part as he had felt you often forgot about that. 

You grinned at him dopily, though. Much to his chagrin. “It’s because you’re my lord, Divine Dream Of The Endless.” You replied, tail practically wagging behind you. Matthew could only do what the equivalent of a facepalm to a bird is.

“You are my hope,” You started, “my love,” Morpheus took note of how ambiguous this statement was, “my passion, my dreams.” Your eyes were practically glittering at this point. Matthew swore he could see sparkles coming from around your aura. Morpheus scanned your face, no lie or deception was in sight. He felt his eye twitch, still very much so baffled and puzzled by your actions.

“You have so much devotion to give… yet you save it all for one such as myself.” You nodded, uncaring of judgment from the bird who had been staring at you for the past fifteen minutes,

“.... Why?”

You clasped your hands tightly together closely to your chest, the familiar look of lovesick adoration gracing our features once again. Matthew let out a puff of breath. Oh, brother.

“Because I know you, Divine Dream Of The Endless, My Lord Morpheus.”

Morpheus could not do anything but hopelessly stare at you, still very much shocked and partially flattered he was at your bold confession. 

It took him this much to realize that he'll never find his words with you. Even if he tried for all eternity.

~~~

author's note: HOO BOY THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE I HONESTLY JUST DROWNED MYSELF IN MY BRAIN AND THEN LET THE SPIRIT OF SIMPING FOR MORPHEUS POSSESS ME AND THEN BOOM THIS CAME OUT. hope u like it :DD also lmao i am amused at the thought that desire would give dream a human really passionate abt him bc they know how emotionally constipated he is and they just wanna mess with him

the markings of your dreams.

Pairing: Morpheus x Reader

Word count: 250

Content Warnings: None

"My dear dreamer," He started in his strong yet soothing voice. Shivers went down your spine as you practically could feel his powerful presence in the air.

"Why must you hate these calloused hands of yours so?"

Feeling bashful, you held them close to you as you shuffled in your place. You didn't dare to answer back.

"These hands of yours have created worlds," He started, looking up at the sky almost as if he was gesturing to your work, "creations that many have admired." His eyes glazed over your shoulders that sagged.

"Even if you believe otherwise."

He strided closer to you, causing you to slightly step back. You did not know if it was in fear or shame.

"These calloused hands of yours are the results of your creations in the waking world."

"Do not put yourself down to such degrees, do not underestimate yourself." He gently placed your hand in his, tracing the roughness of your palms and fingers.

"Your hands have carried the countless hours, days, weeks, months, years of your hardwork. All made in the name of passion."

The way he carefully ran his fingers over your rough hand made you almost believe that he was mesmerized– no, that he was fond of them.

"These are not scars nor are they imperfections, these are markings."

His lips pinched up slightly by the corners.

"Markings that bear the fruit of your aspirations."

He always adored his artists.

"Cherish them, for they are the proof of your ambition… The proof of your dreams."

a/n: idk why but the concept of dream really loving artists is so scrumptious to me also im kinda insecure abt my hands so theres that (i play guitar and draw alot 😭) anw have this short blurb i wrote in the middle of class

heads up!! i made a spotify playlist for this!! well,,, not really for this,,, actually this fic came from that playlist i made bc i brainrotted over morpheus so much

you can find it here! (fair warning tho it becomes a bit angsty in the second part bc of daydreams ive already forgotten about)

also im debating if i should write a sequel to this or just let it be its own thing 🤔

Divine Dream Of The Endless, I Shall Serve You So, My Lord Morpheus.

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream x Gender-Neutral!Reader

Trope: God x Worshipper, God x Devotee

Content Warning: Alluding to religious imagery, nothing spicy tho

Rating: Mature, Comedy (No Smut)

Summary: You’ve devoted your entire mortal being to Morpheus. He doesn’t understand why.

Word Count: 2,760

Disclaimer: This is only for fun and I am in no way shape or form trying to dictate what Morpheus would do!

~

You sighed dreamily as you looked up at the skies, hands clasped together tightly against your chest, whispering words of both tender and intimate worship to the one and only Lord Of Dreams And Nightmares. You don’t exactly dwell on the details of how it started– how this devoutness (some would say, obsession), for a seemingly forgotten god came from.

To put it bluntly, you didn’t mind people’s stares whenever you talked about your savior. Why would their words matter when only his did? Fortunately, your friends still supported you in any way they can (albeit with looks of worry and confusion).

“ ‘Lord’ Morpheus? You mean one of Hypnos’ many children?” Your friend who was particularly interested in mythologies asked. You and them had planned to meet up at your apartment to simply hang out. They figured that you needed at least a little time not wasting your every breath singing phrases to your supposedly fictional god. To their surprise, you vehemently shook your head in “no” before your eyes glistened as you thought about your lord even more. 

“He comes with many names, be it Oneiros, Morpheus, Shaper Of Forms, Kai’ckul,” A dopey smile adorned your face as your friend looked at you with slight concern and disturbance.

“Sandman, Lord Of Dreams, and–” You stopped to take a breath, breathing in heavily before exhaling in deep admiration. “Dream.”

As you talked on and on about how glorious and magnificent your one true savior is, your friend couldn’t help but just stare in shock at how extremely devoted and obsessed you were.

“How did this even start..?” Their question made you halt in your ramblings as your eyes glistened even more (if that was even possible) as you recounted the tale of how you came to know such a sacred figure or deity.

(Your friend could do nothing more but only get goosebumps as you talked more and more about him. It kind of sounded like you were in a cult.)

“Well, of course my lord introduced himself to me in his most beautiful creations…”

… A dream. It all started with a dream. You remember waking up in a meadow that was so peaceful you could just close your eyes and let yourself sink into the soil and let nature take its course. You laid there for a moment, basking in the seemingly absent sun and its rays, sighing deeply and enjoying the peacefulness.

The peacefulness was interrupted by a quiet russell in the bushes ahead of you.

You opened your eyes, slightly inconvenienced at the noise. Begrudgingly, you carefully got up in order to not disturb the local flowers you had spotted near you. As you made your way through the meadow, a being with greatly beautiful features that both scared and intoxicated you came into view.

They lifted their head up, their blonde hair swaying with the wind. Their beautiful gold eyes met with yours, before a cheshire grin took hold on their face.

They said your name in what would be the human equivalent of a purr, causing your face to heat up before you approached them slowly, feeling the light tickle of the grass on your feet.

“Who… Who are you…?” You asked meekly, mesmerized yet overwhelmed by their appearance. The wind pushed you away from them, almost as if warning you of their presence.

They looked pensively at you for a moment, before shrugging and speaking in a silky voice.

“Let’s just say… I’m a prophet that’s been sent to give you a message.” They snickered, before beckoning you to come closer. Their grin never faltered as they spoke, it even looked like it grew wider if you looked close enough. The grass continued to tickle at your feet.

To their surprise, you deadpanned at them and immediately turned on your heel to walk away. You just wanted to enjoy this meadow more yet this weirdo disturbed your peace. Clicking their tongue, they grabbed you by the arm. 

“Wait,” They whispered in your ear, causing shivers to go down your spine. 

“Don’t you want to meet your lord and savior?”

“My lord and… what now?” Their grin grew even wider.

As they recounted stories about this king…. this King Of Dreams, you suddenly felt pulled to his very essence as your heart weighed heavier and heavier as the mysterious beauty described him to you. You tried to shake off this feeling, but you could not stop it from weighing over your shoulders.

A black feather (in the back of your head, it was telling you it was a raven’s) materialized itself in front of you along with a five pointed star. Your eyes darted to the alluring being beside you, before your hand slowly reached for them, as if they were calling you. 

And as soon as you touched both things, you were hit with the overwhelming knowledge and stories about him– about Morpheus. 

His form flashed in your mind, and your brain made sure to trace every little feature it can. From the shine on his ebony hair– to the cool ivory of his soft skin, to the elegant sweep of his raven black coat. And those eyes. Those eyes pierced your very being as you saw dreams, hope, and fantasy swirl into a vortex within them.

You fell to your knees, gasping softly, before looking up at the stranger with the golden eyes beside you. You felt your eyes pricking with tears as you burned his image in your mind. Your lord. Your savior.

They grinned once more, kneeling down and taking your hand in theirs before kissing your knuckles softly. 

“Is this not what you desire?”

You sighed wistfully as you finished the story, your hands clasped tightly together in a habit, while your friend just stared at you with worry and concern.

“Isn’t he wonderful-?” “Dude, I think you should look into paranormal investigators.”

After smacking your friend’s shoulder multiple times as they teased you under their breath whilst laughing, you both resumed doing the activity you planned to do. And it was almost like a switch was turned off. 

Whenever one asks about who you’re praying to, your face contorts into one of ecstasy and love. But if one were to change the subject, you’d get back to being your “normal self.”

Soon, the sky turned into a hue of dancing purples and blues– indicating your friend would have to take their leave. They bid you goodbye, ruffling your hair on their way to the door. You chuckled and waved goodbye, before the switch was turned on again.

You spent the rest of the evening worshiping and bomboarding your dearest deity with compliments. Your lips composed a ballad of praise and flattery entangled into an elegant dance reserved for him and only for him. 

Soon enough, soft murmurs filled the air as you felt overwhelming love and admiration pour from your heart, your eyes pricking with tears once again (ever since you became a proud devotee of his, this always seemed to happen). Gently wiping the tears from your eyes, you checked the time and quickly prepared to go to bed– excited to visit his realm.

~

Morpheus, even as he did not know he was capable of doing such a thing, gulped.

Morpheus heard it– he heard all of it. Your desperate prayers that you chanted like a mantra everyday, your eyes so full of devotion and sincerity. He didn’t know what to feel about it.

Frankly, Morpheus felt awfully awkward and stiff to be the subject of such high praises and worship. Let alone a mere mortal’s worship, in the modern times at that.

If Morpheus had it in him, he would cough awkwardly in his sleeve to disguise his confusion and stiffness, but he could not. All he could do was keep his head high and watch your dreams at the sidelines. And heaven’s name, they were always so detailed and vivid!

He sensed the air shift around him, alerting him of your slumber. Letting curiosity take over him, he personally went to your own dream, though he made sure not to let Lucienne and Matthew know (who were all too familiar with your antics).

Soon, Morpheus came face to face with what looked like a cathedral, temple, and chapel all mixed into one. Its shape was constantly changing in small yet noticeable details, referencing your mind’s subconsciousness on what this certain architecture represented.

Hesitantly, he pushed open the doors, making sure not to make a sound. His eyes scanned the area, looking for you before coming to a rest when he spotted you at the very front, kneeling and clasping your hands tightly like you always did.

Your soft low voice can be heard echoing throughout the building as you let out a breath and looked up at the art piece in front of you. He was pretty sure he could see a few tears stain the bench you were resting on.

Wait a minute.

Morpheus’ gaze followed yours…. Before he came face to face with a stained glass painting of… himself in all his naked glory, with only his helm and pouch among his person. The painting constantly shifted from being stained glass to a canvas painting. 

Morpheus did not know which one was worse or if either were flattering at all. (At least you had the decency to censor his private parts with a leg, he supposed.)

His usual brooding face was filled with bewilderment, intrigue, a bit of flattery, and disturbance. Even in your dreams you choose to worship him? Dream Of The Endless? Not even Desire? Death? Destiny? You chose him of all beings?

Morpheus vaguely hears the loud laughter of his sister as he tells her of your unwavering devotion.

He suddenly came to a still, something in the air had suddenly changed.

 Morpheus’ face of mixed emotions is suddenly replaced with alarm as he gazes at you sharply. Through means even he did not know of, you had somehow sensed he was in your dream. 

Your head quickly snapped back as your eyes met with his. His eyes widened and in an instant, Morpheus fled and dematerialized out of your dream. 

You awoke with a startle as you gasped for air, clutching your chest. You felt disoriented, mouth feeling dry as you looked over at the clock stand. 3:33 am. For a few moments, you focused on evening out your heavy breathing, drinking the cup of water that was on your bed stand. Soon however, your emotion of startle morphed into one of loving as you felt your face heat up. 

Putting a hand to your cheek, you looked above you with such adoration and affection. He visited. You grinned gleefully, bearing the image of a child receiving their favorite toy. You stayed like that for a few beats before deciding to go back to laying down and continue dreaming.

Morpheus, who was standing in the corner of your room could not do anything but watch you in utter bafflement as he saw how true and deep your never-dying devotion was.

Though he was never a being of many words, Morpheus had found himself truly at a loss for words.

~

You felt your own heartbeat quicken as you giddily prepared yourself some breakfast. The King Of Dreams personally visited you! You were chuckling and swaying as you felt your face heating up almost as hot as the eggs you were cooking. The King Of Dreams visited!

From outside your window, a certain talking raven looked at you with what could only be described as judgment and unease before he flew back to his master who was waiting just outside of your house. Morpheus looked at him expectantly, not daring to utter your name. 

If Matthew could, he would scratch the back of his head in nervousness.

“They’re… okay…. Nothin’ suspicious going on apart from the…’’ The raven paused, unsure how to word this to his master who was already disassociating as we speak (can the endless even do that?), “…. usual.” He squeaked (squawked) out.

Morpheus let out a breath he did not know he was holding before he spoke with what sounded like encouragement to himself. “Very well.” He lifted his head up in fake confidence. “I shall speak with them.” Matthew tilted his head. 

“Uh… about what, boss?” About everything. He thought, and as though Matthew could read his mind, the raven nervously perched onto his shoulder as support.

You were happily transferring your breakfast from your pan to your plate, when a figure suddenly appeared in the middle of your kitchen, causing you to shriek and almost drop your breakfast. You quickly placed it on the table (making sure the food was unharmed) before putting your spatula in front of you in defense.

The tall dark man gazed at you pointedly, before raising an eyebrow at the spatula you had pointed at him. Your mind came to a stop as you took in his features. Black hair… Pale skin… A coat so long it pooled at the end…

Your eyes gazed over the raven perched on his shoulder, before you gasped as the fear in your features washed away.

“You’re…. You’re Dream.” You said, breathless.

“And you.. are wishing to defend yourself with that.” Was all he replied, gesturing vaguely to the spatula in your hands. 

You gasped and dropped the spatula. “Forgive me!”

Much to his and the raven’s surprise, you quickly pushed away your spatula and dropped to your knees in front of him, your forehead touching the floor. “My lord.” You said with so much passion and faithfulness, he could do nothing more but to tear his eyes away from your quivering form.

Morpheus stood there stiffly for a few moments, not knowing what to do. Sure, he’s had his fair share of worshippers but it’s been over centuries since he has seen someone so devoted to him in mind, body, and soul. He did not like this feeling. This feeling of uncertainty, of blundering. Morpheus did not like the feeling of being awkward.

He cleared his throat, stopping himself from shifting from one foot to the other. 

“You may rise.” Your eyes locked with him for a few moments, and it took all of his essence to not look away from your intense glistened gaze filled with adoration, passion, and devotion. He inhaled deeply. An endless should not yield to a mere mortal.

You slowly stood up, head still in a bow as a respect from him. You noticed his clenched knuckles and quickly shrank into yourself, not knowing what you had done wrong. Morpheus had taken notice of this and breathed in deeply to compose himself, before relaxing some of his own body parts.

“Tell me, dear dreamer,” He started in his honey-filled voice that you swore you could listen to for days. Faintly, you can hear your friends’ voice in the back of your head saying, “He should start a podcast!” 

“What is the purpose of your rather… intimate prayers to the King Of Dreams… and Nightmares?” Morpheus emphasized the last part as he had felt you often forgot about that. 

You grinned at him dopily, though. Much to his chagrin. “It’s because you’re my lord, Divine Dream Of The Endless.” You replied, tail practically wagging behind you. Matthew could only do what the equivalent of a facepalm to a bird is.

“You are my hope,” You started, “my love,” Morpheus took note of how ambiguous this statement was, “my passion, my dreams.” Your eyes were practically glittering at this point. Matthew swore he could see sparkles coming from around your aura. Morpheus scanned your face, no lie or deception was in sight. He felt his eye twitch, still very much so baffled and puzzled by your actions.

“You have so much devotion to give… yet you save it all for one such as myself.” You nodded, uncaring of judgment from the bird who had been staring at you for the past fifteen minutes,

“…. Why?”

You clasped your hands tightly together closely to your chest, the familiar look of lovesick adoration gracing our features once again. Matthew let out a puff of breath. Oh, brother.

“Because I know you, Divine Dream Of The Endless, My Lord Morpheus.”

Morpheus could not do anything but hopelessly stare at you, still very much shocked and partially flattered he was at your bold confession. 

It took him this much to realize that he’ll never find his words with you. Even if he tried for all eternity.

~~~

author’s note: HOO BOY THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE I HONESTLY JUST DROWNED MYSELF IN MY BRAIN AND THEN LET THE SPIRIT OF SIMPING FOR MORPHEUS POSSESS ME AND THEN BOOM THIS CAME OUT. hope u like it :DD also lmao i am amused at the thought that desire would give dream a human really passionate abt him bc they know how emotionally constipated he is and they just wanna mess with him

i think it’s beautiful that we (the sandman fandom) collectively looked at dream*, picked him up from the back of his neck like the surly wet cat he is, said “ha stupid little blorbo, spiteful little bastard” and put him in our pocket

(*of the endless)

I love it

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 (𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬)

Pairing: Morpheus / Dream x (female) Reader

Summary: being reunited with your lover, Morpheus, after he’d been captured for nearly a century

Warnings: angst, smut, tiny bit of dry humping I guess?, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex (m+f), multiple orgasms, minors DNI

A/N: here we are adding another pale emo boy to my never ending list of men I’d like to fuck lmao! title is of course from Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics! I hope you guys like this <33

p.s. this was not properly proofread bc I was in a rush to post it before I left for holiday so I’m so sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes, hopefully it’s still readable lmao

This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. By clicking ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.

“Here’s here! He’s back!” Lucienne pants as she barges through your door, or what was left of it at least.

You sit upright from where you were lying on the bed.

“What?” You squeak.

“He’s back. Morpheus. He’s here. He’s back at last,” she smiles at you, elation and sadness both mixing in her eyes.

You waste no time in following her, the two of you running through the ruins of your once beautiful castle until you reached the throne room. Your breathing fast and shallow, your heart pounding ferociously in your chest.

“Morpheus!” You all but sigh in relief as you finally lay your eyes on your lover.

He was standing by his throne, one hand rested on its back, dressed in his usual dark attire. For a moment your breath hitches in your throat. For a moment it was almost as if he’d never left, as if he’d been there, where he belonged, all this time. But your reverie is quickly broken when you feel the pang in your chest, the pain as it hit you again just how long your lover had been kept from you.

“My love,” he calls back quietly, his tone as serious and calm as it ever was.

He descends the stairs slowly, making his way towards you. You didn’t have it in you to be as calm and reserved as him. You raced towards him, closing the the distance between you as quickly as you could. You almost don’t stop when you reach him, you just crash into him. Your arms fling desperately around his neck, pulling him down into you. His hands snake around your waist and pull you flush against him, his palms flattening against your body, his fingers digging into your back.

You bury your face into his chest, titling upwards to nuzzle against his neck. He buries his own face into your neck, the warmth of his breath tickling your skin, making your hair stand on end. Your hands wander up his neck, moving to run through his hair, tugging it tightly, afraid that if you let go he’d somehow disappear again. You’re so lost in the moment, of having Morpheus back in your arms, you almost completely forget about Lucienne until she clears her throat lightly.

“I’ll, er, let you have some time alone,” she murmurs.

Morpheus raises his head slightly to nod an acknowledgment at her. As soon as she’s exited the throne room you tug him down by his hair, crashing his lips against yours. You both moan desperately into the kiss as your mouth greedily devours his, as if you could somehow make up for a century of having his lips parted from yours.

You didn’t need to talk, to say anything. There were no words to comprehend this moment. Instead you let all your feelings pass to him though your lips; a century of torment parted from your lover, a century of aching for him, of feeling so empty and incomplete. ‘I missed you’ simply wasn’t enough.

You moan softly again as you push your body against his even harder, arching your back and curving yourself into him. You feel a gentle smile tug at Morpheus’ lips as his hands hold you even tighter against him. Your hands move to tug at his long coat, pushing it off his shoulders. He lets the coat slip off his body before he presses into you even harder than before, walking you back a few paces.

You gasp in surprise against his lips when you feel something hit the back of your knees. You twist your head to suddenly see a magnificently large bed placed behind you. The sheets were black silk, it’s frame made from darkest of brown woods, gothic twists and turns carved into it’s structure.

It was beautiful. It was Morpheus.

“I almost forgot how much I missed that trick,” you smirk, referring to Morpheus’ ability to manipulate everything around you in the dreamworld.

Morpheus just hums deeply against your lips, his fingers digging into your hips as he tilts you further backwards, gently lying you down on the grand bed. He moves to kneel at the edge of the mattress, pausing briefly to slip off his black t-shirt and toss it to the floor. You feel your heart flutter with a mix of pain and excitement as your eyes take in the sight of his pale torso. He looked exactly the same, exactly as you remembered him. The nostalgic familiarity of his body causes a flood of emotions to surge through you, a tear blinking in your eye.

Morpheus notices your tears as he leans down over you, positioning himself above you, his hips against yours. He shushes you gently, bringing a hand to cup your face, his thumb swiping at your fallen tears.

“Shh, I’m here now, my love. I’m here,” he whispers before kissing you gently again.

Suddenly the messy urgency of before dissipates, melting into a languid and lazy kiss, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. Your hands roam over his torso, revelling in the smooth skin you hadn’t touched for a century. You feel the soft contours of his body, the ripple of his muscles as he holds himself above you. You scratch your nails down his stomach, eliciting a deep groan from Morpheus. You stop your movement just short of the small trial of dark hairs on his lower abdomen, sliding your hands back up his body until they clasped around the back of his neck once again.

As Morpheus kisses you his body starts to slowly rut against yours. You can feel the buckle of his belt dig into your lower belly as he grinds himself on top of you. Another moan passes your lips when you feel how hard he is; his cock straining against his dark jeans and poking between your thighs. You shiver and whimper when he moves his hips further forwards, pushing against your clothed pussy, providing the tiniest amount of friction.

Your hips buck up into the movement, humping him just as fervently as he was humping you. Your back arches, your covered chest pushing against his bare one. Slowly the urgency and desperation from before starts to creep back into your kiss, into your bodies. His mouth starts to attack yours more hungrily again, his lips moving faster and more greedily against your own. Your hands tug on his hair again, silently pleading him for more. His hands run down your body, grabbing at your hips and giving them an almost painful squeeze.

“Morpheus please,” you whisper. “I need you,” you whine, pushing your hips up against his for emphasis. “I need you to fuck me.”

He groans deeply again at your words, his fingers almost trembling where they held onto your hips. His eyebrows furrow, his face twisting in contemplation, almost as if he was fighting with himself, or fighting to control himself.

“I- I want to take my time with you, love,” he murmurs against your lips.

You shake your head lightly, your nose bumping against his.

“We can take our time later. We have all the time in the world now you’re back,” your sigh against his lips. “But right now, I just want you to fuck me. Please. Please,” you plead with him.

You continue to murmur the word ‘please’ against his skin as you kiss down his jaw, along his throat. You make your way to the spot just below his ear, the one you knew always drove him absolutely wild. Once you find the spot you bite gently at his pale skin, sucking quickly to pull a bruise to the surface; you were determined to show the worlds, dreaming and waking alike, who Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams himself, really belonged to.

Morpheus grunts when you suck harshly on that sensitive spot. His hands run up your body quickly again, snagging on the hem of your shirt and hurriedly lifting it free of your body. He groans deeply when he realises you weren’t wearing a bra, his gaze burning as he takes in the sight of your perfect tits. It seems he practically has to force his gaze away as he sits up and begins to make quick work of undoing the fastenings of your jeans. You shimmy your hips, helping him as he tosses them aside. You sit up, ferociously crashing your lips against Morpheus’s again as your shaky hands fumble desperately with the fastenings of his own jeans.

But he pulls your hands away, not so gently shoving you back down onto the mattress. He looks down at you with a commanding glare in his eyes. You move to sit up again but he grabs your jaw in his hand, pushing you back yet again until you were lying hapless on the bed.

“Morph-“ you whine, cut off when he squeezes your jaw.

“I will take my time with you, my love,” his voice is a whisper and yet it holds all the command and authority of a king.

A whimper lodges in your throat as Morpheus starts to drag his hand down your body. He gives your throat a gentle squeeze before his hand is trialing down your chest, between the valley of your breasts, over your stomach, right down until he reached your navel. His gaze follows his hand, his eyes mapping your entire body as you squirm naked beneath his stare.

“I’ve missed this body,” he muses to himself, his eyes glazed, drunk on the sight of you. His eyes snap back up to yours before he adds; “I’ve missed you.”

He looks at you with such an intense and sad gaze that you feel your heart twinge again, a tear pricking your eye. You take one of your hands and place it over his where it still rested on your lower abdomen.

“I’ve missed you too,” you squeak, giving his hand a squeeze.

He flashes a soft smile, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips so that he could place a chaste kiss to your knuckles. Your heart twists at the gesture; it was something he used to do frequently before he’d disappeared. He bumps his nose against your knuckles before gently placing your hand back on your stomach. His small smile twists into a smirk when he finally leans forwards again, hovering over you. His lips land on your chest and begin following the same trail he’d just made with his hand.

You shiver as he kisses down your body, his lips somehow cold and yet burning like fire as they sear down onto your skin. You bite your lip as you look down at him, his eyes trained on yours even as he kisses lower and lower down your body.

When he finally reaches the apex of your thighs he first places a gentle kiss to your pussy lips. His hands move to tuck under your thighs, helping to hold you open. He flashes you that tiny beautiful smirk again before he finally licks a stripe up through your folds. You shiver at the sensation, throwing your head back immediately. It was almost outrageous how just the lightest of touches was already driving you wild; you are simply just horrendously desperate for your lover’s touch. And he was more than happy to oblige.

Morpheus licks through your folds a few more times, spreading a mixture of your arousal and his saliva all through your slit. A strained profanity slips past your lips when he finally starts to focus his attention on your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, his tongue swirling it languidly. Your hips buck, your body jerking under his touch as the feeling almost overwhelms you. You swear you can still feel his smirk as he brings one of his hands from under your thighs, moving it to splay across your lower belly again, pushing you down and pinning your hips to the mattress. You whine, a sound somewhere between frustration and pleasure.

“Mmm, I’ve missed your taste,” he groans against your cunt. “You always taste so exquisite. Just heavenly,” he hums.

You whimper, his name falling from your lips in a sinful moan. He reciprocates your moan, the noise vibrating through to your clit as he sucks it back into his mouth. Pleasure sears through your body, a fire inside that you’d not felt for over a century. Your head almost feels dizzy, your breathing shallow and fast, your skin tingling, your fingers and toes almost going numb as all feeling is focused in your core.

“M-Moprheus,” you whine, twisting your head to hide in the sheets, almost embarrassed by how quickly your orgasm was building.

Your thighs tremble and shake on either side of his head, your toes curling and pushing against his shoulders. He moans against you again as he feel you start to buck your hips more fervently against his face. He glances up at you and sees how you’ve twisted to cover your face, hiding the heat in your cheeks as your body surged closer and closer towards your climax.

“It’s okay, my love, just let go. I want you to let go,” he whispers gently.

You mewl, your fingers knotting harshly in his hair, your back arching and your neck twisting even further away from his stare.

“Look at me, lover, please. I want to see your face,” he pleads quietly. “I need to see how good I make you feel.”

Though he may be pleading there’s still that edge of command in his tone that lets you know it wasn’t really a request and there really wasn’t any room for arguing. You bite your quivering bottom lip as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You moan lewdly as you catch the sight of him between your thighs. His gentle blue eyes are somehow dark with lust, his hair even messier than usual from where your fingers were gripping it. You can just about see, as well as feel, the smirk on his lips as he keeps his tongue swirling over your clit, sucking softly at the same time. The sight and sensation of it all is finally enough to tip you over the edge.

“O-oh, fuck,” you barely manage to choke out as pleasure races through your entire body, spreading from your core right into the tips of your fingers and your toes.

You fight the urge to toss your head back and arch your spine as you desperately try to keep your eyes on his. You feel his smirk grow into a small grin of pride as he continues to just lightly suck on your clit, enough to prolong your orgasm without making you go too sensitive. When your body has finally given every ounce of pleasure it had to offer, for the moment anyway, he removes his mouth from your cunt and starts kissing your inner thighs again lightly.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs lowly against your skin, placing another kiss to your thigh. “You did so well for me,” he praises gently.

You slump back against the mattress again, your chest rising and falling heavily as you try to catch your breath. Morpheus just continues to kiss all over your thighs as he gives you a moment to recover, occasionally biting and sucking a hickey into your skin. Feeling the wetness of your euphoria on his chin and lips as he kisses over your skin feels deliciously filthy.

His hands stroke the back of your thighs and your ass, grazing over your hips, causing goosebumps to raise on your flesh, a shiver running through your whole body. Your hands loosen their grip on his hair, instead just stroking his head lightly as you try to relax and just revel in the feeling of being with your lover once again.

But it’s not long before you start to feel the ache build in your core again, your cunt clenching desperately over nothing as Morpheus kisses tantalisingly close to your pussy.

“Please,” you beg quietly, your head lulling to the side again. “Please Morpheus, I need you inside me,” you almost cry, your voice pitching in tone.

“Shhh,” he kisses the inside of your thigh. “All in good time, my love,” he promises.

He continues to kiss at your thighs for a short while before you feel one of fingers gently brush through your folds. You mewl at the feeling, at the promise of more. He swipes his finger through your slit, gathering the wet mixture of his spit and your cum. It’s like fireworks explode in your chest when you finally feel his finger push into you, slowly and gently stretching you open. You swear your body was about to combust when he’s quickly able to add another finger, your wetness making it all too easy for him to pump his two fingers in and out of you.

Your fingers knot tighter in his hair, yanking hard as he starts to curl his fingers, searching for that sweet spot inside you. He hums in satisfaction, kissing your thigh again when he hears a squeaky moan lodge in your throat, knowing he’d found the right spot.

“O-oh fuck. Yes...” you whisper with a shaky breath as he adds his mouth back into the mix, his tongue smothering over your clit again.

He curls his fingers in time with his tongue, stroking your sweet spot with the pads of his fingers as his tongue swirls circles around your swollen clit. Your body feels impossibly hot, the pleasure making you feel tingly as it races through you. Your orgasm builds even faster than before, rushing to the surface and breaking over your body. You can barely moan Morpheus’ name as he pumps and sucks you through your second high. You convulse and shake, your body almost twitching from the pleasure, your pussy clamping over his fingers as he slowly continues to curl them against that spot inside you.

Morpheus hums in satisfaction again as he steadily slows down his movements, slowly bringing you down from your high. He sits up, his eyes never leaving yours, before he gently pulls his fingers free from you. You gasp at the loss of contact but the sound quickly develops into a full blown moan when you see Morpheus bring his two fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean of your juices as he continues to stare you down.

You can’t wait any more; you needed this man to fuck you.

You didn’t even care how sensitive you were from your first two orgasms. You sit up and grab him by the back of his neck, yanking him harshly down until his lips collided with yours. Another moan escapes you as you taste yourself in his mouth, the tang of your arousal coating his tongue as it roamed over yours. You pull on the hair at the nape of his neck, arching your back and pushing your chest up against his, your perked nipples brushing against his skin.

Morpheus groans into the kiss as his body starts to move against yours, his still clothed hips slotting between yours. The tent in his dark jeans rubs against your pussy and sends a flare of euphoria through you again.

But it still just wasn’t enough.

Your fingers quiver as they fumble once again with the fastenings of his jeans; only this time he doesn’t move to stop you. You moan greedily into the kiss, your lips moving with an even more urgent hunger against his as you start to push his jeans and boxers down his hips. He breaks the kiss briefly as he shifts to remove his jeans completely, throwing them to join the rest of your clothes somewhere on the floor.

The sound that leaves your throat when you’re finally able to take in the glory of his naked body is almost indescribable. He was just so painstakingly beautiful it genuinely made your chest ache. You can’t bring yourself to wait any longer as you reach forwards to grab his glorious cock in your hand. You swipe your thumb over his red and swollen tip, gathering the pre-cum and swirling it around his head. Morpheus all but shudders as you do so, his eyes fluttering as he tries to keep himself under control.

You’re just about to start stroking him properly when his hand clamps over your wrist, giving a quick but firm shake of his head. You release his cock as he gently guides you to lie back on the bed, his body crawling over yours. His nose bumps yours as he gives you a desperate and messy kiss before you feel the wet and warm tip of his cock nudge against your folds. Your fingers curl and dig into his shoulders as you desperately try to pull him against you.

Morpheus grabs his cock and helps guide it through your slit, gathering the mixture of his spit and your cum and coating himself with it. Then, at long last, you finally feel him start to push inside you. A whimper escapes traitorously past your lips as you feel the dull ache of him stretching you open. You could feel just how tight you were around him as he slowly pushes himself into you, slowly slotting himself to the hilt, until you could feel his hips flush against yours again.

You feel the light tremor in Morpheus’ body, the slight tremble in his arms as he holds himself above you. His eyes close and his face twists with pleasure, and with concentration, as if he was pouring all of his focus into not cumming almost immediately at the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him after a century apart. His head hangs low, his fringe ticking your forehead as he pauses there for a moment, giving you a second to adjust, or giving himself a moment to gather himself before he loses himself completely to the feeling of you.

He takes a deep shuddering breath, searching your face. You nod quickly, bucking your hips again as you silently give him permission to move. He nods shortly himself before he obliges your request from the beginning and slowly but surely starts to fuck himself into you.

He’s barely started to move and already you can feel fireworks explode throughout your body. Your hips buck to meet his, your tits pushing up against his chest, your nails tearing at the skin of his shoulders. He shudders and groans as he feels you pulse around him, hugging his cock impossibly tight.

“Oh, my love, I’ve missed how good you feel,” he whispers with a deep groan, “how tight and perfect you are for me.”

HIs voice is so quiet, almost as if he’s rambling more to himself than to you. You can feel his breath tickling your face as he hovers just above you. His one hand holds himself up, resting just next to your head. His other travels across your waist, caressing the soft curves of your body. That same hand trails higher up your body, grazing the side of your breast until he reaches the apex of your arm.

You shiver, more goosebumps beginning to litter your skin as his fingers dance back down your arm. You mewl softly when his hand reaches yours, dancing over your palm until his fingers interlock with your own. He gives your hand a quick squeeze before he lifts it above your head, pinning it to the mattress behind you.

His name escapes your lips in a plea as he squeezes your hand again. At the same time he begins to speed up his thrusts. His pace is still relatively slow and steady; he puts all his effort is focused on trusting deep inside you, the tip of his cock brushing that spot inside you with each snap of his hips. With each thrust another cacophony of moans fly from your lips.

“I think most of all,” he continues through his shaky breathing, “I’ve missed the sounds you make. The way my name falls from your lips,” he pants hotly, his breath fanning over your face. “You are divine,” he groans through gritted teeth, “like the sweetest dream there ever was.”

You moan his name again as you feel your body coil again, the fire burning and building in your core with each brush of his cock inside you. Morpheus pushes his forehead down against your own, his nose bumping against yours as his own moans start to increase in frequency. You almost smile as you feel a small jolt of joy swell in your chest. His moans grow higher in pitch and you knew it was his telltale sign that he was close to finishing himself.

But you also knew he never let himself finish first. And, as you expected, as he always used to do, he brings his hand, the one not holding onto yours, down between your bodies. His fingers find your clit quickly, wasting no time in circling it with expert precision.

His eyes search yours desperately, a century of unspoken emotions passing between the two of you. You knew there were no words to describe how you both felt. No amount of letters would ever be able to encapsulate the enormity of torment that had been your time apart.

Instead you just let your bodies do the talking. The glaze of tears in his eyes letting you know how much he loved you. The hunger of his lips when they moved with yours showing you much he missed you. The tight grip on your hand signalling that he would never let you go; a silent promise that you’d never be parted again.

You lose yourself in the moment. Nothing else exists other than here and now. You pay no mind to the crumbling castle around you, the vast and empty space that stretches on forever. All you see, all you feel, is Morpheus. Your senses are clouded and overwhelmed by him. The sight his ethereal blue eyes boring into yours. The smell of him, light and clean, refreshing and comforting. The feeling of his smooth skin under your palms are you claw at his back. The wet sounds of his cock slipping in and out of you with ease. The gentle sounds of his heavy breathing and soft groans in your ear.

“Morpheus, I- I’m close,” you breathe, nudging your nose up against his.

He nods lightly; “let go for me, baby.”

You whimper, something akin to a sob, when you hear him call you ‘baby’. He hardly ever called you that despite knowing how much you actually loved it. The pet name, his fingers circling your clit, and another deep thrust of his cock inside you, finally work to tip you over the edge once again.

This climax was different to the others; it was more intense but not in a way that felt overwhelming or too much. It was just the prefect amount of pleasure and you swear your vision goes blurry as you reel from the sensation. Your eyes roll back slightly, your head lulling onto the pillow, your jaw going slack as your mouth hangs open in a silent O.

“Oh how I’ve missed that view; how beautiful you are when you fall apart for me,” Morpheus groans lowly as he keeps fucking into you slowly.

His hips jut raggedly against yours, his pace faltering and his thrusts turning sloppy as he fucks himself towards his own climax. You paw at his back with your free hand desperately as you encourage him to let go. You slide your hand up his neck and fist his dark hair again, pulling tightly in the way you knew he liked. And it worked, as not a second later his hips still completely as he lurches deeply against you, finally climaxing himself.

He pants shakily, deep groans falling from his parted lips as his cock twitches inside you. You sigh his name contently as you feel the warmth of his release flood inside you. His hand shakes where it still holds onto your own. His other hand had moved to squeeze your hip as he slowly rocks you both through the remnants of your highs.

The two of you just stare at each other for a second, the both of you trying to make this moment last for a century, as if this could make up for the century spent apart.

Morpheus smiles gently down at you, his hand moving from your hip to palm your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. You reach up to cup his face in return, your fingers softly tracing over his features. His eyebrows furrow when he sees a slight sadness behind your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly, twisting his face to place a gentle kiss to your palm.

“It’s nothing,” you shake your head slightly.

You sigh defeatedly before explaining further, warmth rising to your cheeks with a slight embarrassment.

“I want to say 'I love you', but the words seem somehow so small and insignificant, like they’d never be big enough to capture how I actually feel,” you whisper.

Morpheus just smiles gently, leaning down until his lips connected with yours in a gentle kiss. You both smile softly into the kiss when you feel the silent message pass from his lips to yours.

Perhaps words would never be enough to encapsulate how you felt about each other. But it didn’t matter. You could feel it in your heart. And, somehow, you just knew that he could feel it in his heart too.

Masterlist

A/N: just gonna tag my babies @mothdruid and @siempre-bucky as well bc I know how much they love this pale emo too!! I really hope you all liked this <33

p.s this will be my final fic for a short while as I’ll be away on holiday and taking a short hiatus from Friday onwards!

Taglist // Join My Nightmare Realm // Ko-fi

Perfection

~Dreaming of him~ - Morpheus x female Reader (not sfw)

warnings: smut and fluff, (less) p*orn with (more) feelings, oral s*ex (f! receiving), nudity

summary: reader falls asleep while thinking of Morpheus and has an e<rotic & emotional dream

words count: 3,312 k

"Finally!"

A loud sigh of satisfaction left your lips when you collapsed on your bed, sinking into the soft sheets and warm furry blanket.

You always looked forward to that moment, especially after a long busy day like the one you had just barely survived. You felt tired, like your whole vital lymph had been drained out and even slightly feverish although you knew it was your usual migraine making your heart pound in your head like crazy.

You needed to close your eyes and have a good night's rest. Your sore muscles however were making it a bit too hard to find a good position to sleep into.

There was only one efficient way to help you relax, to ease your tensed body and although you were quite sleepy you convened that pleasuring the tiredness off your body was what you needed. To this end, you turned and laid on your back, spreading your legs a little under the sheets. Your hand crawled under your nightgown and slipped unceremoniously in your panties.

You couldn't just touch yourself, tough. It wouldn't work. You needed to make up a fantasy in your mind or else you'd still be wanking in the morning. Well, perhaps not the morning but it would definitely take you a lot more time than you were willing to sacrifice that night. You needed to make something up real quick and with that aim in mind you closed your eyes and started rubbing your fingers on your clitoris.

You gasped when your mind presented you an highlight of a few different memories, all associated with the same person or well, a supernatural being. Morpheus.

You have had a crush on him since the first time you saw him in The Dreaming. He had helped you with a particularly aggressive nightmare and since that night you had had a few other brief but pleasant encounters. Literally everything about him intrigued you and captivated you. Although, his voice was what attracted you the most. It was like a soothing balm for your very soul but at the same time a lit match that aflamed your whole body with passion.

And it was his voice that you tried to recall and replicate in your mind as you touched yourself, making it whisper whatever you needed to hear to whet your arousal. With his deep voice came a vivid image of him, his charming eyes wandering over your exposed skin and his full lips parting to kiss his way to the inside of your legs, getting closer and closer to the point where you wanted to be touched the most.

"Y/N... " He whispered and you flinched a bit, startled at how the voice in your head could sound so real.

"Y/N?"

Maybe a bit too real.

Your eyes flied open and you heart almost jumped out of your chest. He was right there, in front of you, on your bed, kneeling between your legs, his crystal eyes curiously looking at you.

"I heard you call my name." he said, his gaze slowly traveling down your laying body, halting at your lower belly, were your hand disappeared inside your panties.

You followed it and gasped, abruptly withdrawing your hand and unfolding the nightgown that was rolled up to your hips.

"I fell asleep?!" you asked alarmed looking around you as you retreated a little to put some space between the two of you, leaning your back against the headrest. Morpheus was looking at your every move, amused, a small smile curving up his lips.

You were deeply mortified. How could it have happen? You were laying there in your bed, pleasuring yourself in the privacy of your room and then what happened? You fell asleep while thinking of Morpheus and inadvertently brought him to you? Oh God. You wanted to dig a hole in the ground right then and there and hide inside it forever or better yet, you wished you could immediately wake up and never ever dream again for the rest of your life. How could you look him in the face after that?

You tried to hide your embarassement as best as you could by covering your face behind your hand, fingers lazily scratching your forehead while you kept your eyes fixed on the ground, not daring to look up.

"Sorry...", you huffed in a whisper, "c-could you wake me up please?"

He chuckled in response at which you flinched a bit in surprise and your head snapped up. He moved your hand away from your face and took it in his.

"Why should I, Y/N?"

The look he was giving you was so genuine and alluring at the same time that you felt your heart missing a beat or two.

"You're here now...", he said, bringing your hand to his lips and leaving a gentle peck on its back, "exactly where you wanted to be."

Your breath itched at the touch and you gawked at him in disbelief. What was he doing? Why was he doing it? It took a moment for his words to fully register.

"I-I didn't mean to come here! I was just- I just wanted to... "

He smiled as he pecked your skin again, then turned your hand around and planted another delicate kiss on your palm.

"Morpheus?" the tremble in your voice betrayed your eagerness and he looked up, locking his gaze with yours.

"You were touching yourself thinking of me, calling my name."

He knew, he knew. Of course he knew. You wanted to melt, vaporize, get struck by a thunder! Anything!

"Isn't it true?" He arched an eyebrow, his head tilting a little to the side, his now seemingly innocent gaze boring into yours. You gaped at him, unsure how to react.

"Was it my hand that was pleasuring you?"

You gulped. The embarrassment of the situation couldn't keep you from feeling a growing warmth in your lower belly at the thought of the fantasy you were only a few minutes ago so nicely weaving in your mind.

"How did it feel?"

You wanted to answer that it was the best fantasy you ever had but you were stunned and kept your mouth shut. The whole situation felt unreal. It was unreal.

"Y/N? How did it feel to be touched by me?"

His gaze was too intense and you couldn't resist.

"So good."

The words spiraled out of your lips in a shaky huff before you could realize what was happening and stop yourself. You looked away, feeling ashamed.

"Oh?", he smiled, visibly amused. His hand moved on your cheek to caress it. You felt a light tingling where his fingers brushed over your skin, making your whole body shudder.

His fingers curled around your chin and he turned your head to face him. Your eyes locked for a moment before his gaze began to wander over your features, admiring every inch of your face, halting at your mouth. His thumb moved up to delicately brush the outline of your parted lips.

"Did I kiss you in your fantasy?"

He looked up at you and you flinched again, heart jumping in your chest. All you could do was shake lightly your head in response.

"No? Well, that's a shame. I think we require one kiss, at least."

He bent over you, slowly closing the distance between your faces. His lips brushed over yours in such a subtle way that made you lose your head and lean forward, attracted to him like a magnet. It seemed to you that your yearning was the only sign he was waiting for because as soon as you moved, his smiling lips crushed on yours. You moaned in the kiss, surprised by his eagerness. He was literally devouring you. His hands came to clench your sides and you felt like jelly, melting in his touch.

You were literally gasping for air when he leaned back, putting an end to that heated kiss.

Dream's eyes were scanning your face once again, seeming to revel at the sight of your flushed cheeks and dumbstruck look. Without uttering a single word, his lips moved back on yours only to tease you with a peck before he trailed them toward your cheek, then along your jaw, stopping at your neck, at the level of your throat. He planted a open mouthed kiss on that spot, sending goosebumps all over your body.

"Morpheus?" you shakily whispered, "why are you doing this? Am I making you do it, somehow?"

You felt his hot breath on your skin as he chuckled and lightly shook his head. He sought your eyes and his hand gently cupped your cheek.

"You are not. I am still the ruler of this realm and I make your dreams."

He saw the puzzled look on your face and tried to explain himself better.

"This is your dream, Y/N. And I am, voluntarily, making it happen. I'll give you anything you wish."

"And you are willing to..."

"I am, my dear."

You searched his eyes, trying to understand, to catch any sign that could finally ease your mind about the whole situation. Was he really willing to play out your fantasy for you? Was he interested in you as you were in him? Would he take as much pleasure in having you just as you would in having him?

Feeling your hesitation, Dream captured your lips in another kiss, less voracious than the last one but equally passionate. It was slow and deep, in one word, intoxicating. Your eyes fluttered close and you reveled at the sensation of feeling desired by someone, by him.

He begrudgingly brought the kiss to an end just to move his lips up to your ear and whisper, "I want you, Y/N. Do you want me?", then moved back and locked his eyes with yours, now wide open.

Of course you wanted him! You were the one who had fantasised about him and brought him to you. You nodded repeatedly, mind already wandering in anticipation to what was to come.

Dream tilted his head a little, scanning your face.

"Y/N, I want you to say it" , his forefinger moved on your mouth to gently tap your lower lip, "I want to hear it from your lips."

"Yes, Morpheus", you cleared your throat to let your voice sound more full and confident. "This is what I want. This is my dream."

The beautiful smile that appeared on his face brought one to yours as well and a warm reassuring feeling rose in your chest.

In no time his lips were back on your neck to tease the sensitive skin there, under your jaw, on your jugular, down to the swell of your chest, stealing a series of moans from your lips. He threw a glance up at you and locked your eyes with his as he resumed his descent, peppering teasing kisses over the light fabric of your nightgown. He moved down in a straight line along your chest, kissing between your breasts, on your belly button, halting only as he hovered over your groin.

His fingers skimmed over your legs, igniting the skin through their climb toward the inside of your thighs. They danced around the hem of your nightgown, teasing you with the lightest of touches, before they slid beneath the fabric and reached the hem of your panties, tugging them down in an agonisingly slow pace.

"Morpheus, please..." you cried out impatiently, rubbing your thighs together to make up for the ever more frustrating absence of his touch where you most needed it.

He smirked up at you as he slid off your foot the last portion of your underwear. His hands moved on your knees to give them a little squeeze then trailed up your thighs, spreading them wide, fingers slowly dipping under the hem of your dress, traveling upwards.

"You are so beautiful Y/N."

That compliment caught you off guard and you blushed visibly, bit your lips and averted your eyes from his.

You were on the verge of begging him to touch you and put you out of you misery when he lifted your dress, dipped his head and slicked his tongue through your folds. You couldn't possibly hold back the loud moan that escaped you.

After a second solid stripe down your core he placed a soft kiss to your clitoris and peeked up at you to watch your face contorting, then he continued littering you with teasing kisses until you were writhing under his touch.

"Morpheus!" you cried in frustration as you squeezed your eyes shut and bucked your hips towards him.

He was pleased to see you so desperate under him and he chuckled, his warm breath going cool against the wetness between your legs, driving you mad.

While his hands gripped your hips to hold you down, he latched his lips to you and started dragging his tongue back and forth, occasionally swirling against your most sensitive button.

Your hands instantly found his head, fingers tangling in his dark hair and tugging at it, making him groan against you while you whined pathetically.

He moved to focus on the clitoris sucking gently at first then with more decisiveness. He pulled the little botton up into his mouth, just past the lips as he sucked on it up and down.

A loud deep moan escaped you when his tongue dove into your entrance, making you arch your back and bent your head backwards on the headrest.

You were already worked up before he started so it wasn’t long before you felt your release growing closer. All your muscles felt tense like a violin cord and your hands tightened their hold on each side of Dream's head, supporting his motion.

"Morpheus, I'm- I'm-"

Looking down, you met his eyes which watched your reactions with a hazy, love-drunk gaze. His tongue slid up to focus once more on your nub, sucking firmly on it a few times. That was the last straw for you. A second later a rolling wave of pleasure washed over you and you cried his name out loud, eyes squeezing shut and seeing stars, legs twitching around him. He had to plant his palms on your inner thighs to keep from being squeezed as he got back up.

He licked his lips as he watched you come back from the ecstasy, eyes lingering on the rising and falling of your chest gradually going back to normal and then on the contraction on your face fully abandoning your features to give them a relaxed and satisfied look.

He was smiling softly, hands caressing affectionately your thighs when you reopened your eyes and met his gaze. Your hands were still at the sides of his face so you gently cupped his cheeks.

"That was..." you whispered, still trying to regain your breathing, "that was intense."

He took your wrists in his hands and as his eyes fluttered close he placed a lingering kiss on both your palms. That sweet little gesture after the thoroughness and care he just put in giving you the best orgasm you ever had, felt so intimate and meaningful that it made your stomach flutter and your eyes start to sting a little.

"Did it measure up with your fantasy?" he genuinely asked, looking down at you with the most tender gaze.

You could feel your eyes beginning to fill with tears and before he could notice, you leaned forward, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

"Are you kidding me?", you tried your best to swallow a sob as you nestled on his shoulder and against his neck "this was a billion times better."

His arms were around you in no time, hands supporting your back and he squeezed you against his chest making you feel so safe and happy and loved. You couldn't possibly hold back the tears any longer. A stifled series of sobs escaped your lips and you clinged tighter to him, fingers tugging at his robe.

"Y/N..."

His beautiful voice, resonating so close to your ear only made you more emotional. You genuinely had no idea what had gotten into you.

"Y/N, why are you crying?"

In an attempt to soothe you he ran one hand up and down your spine, while the other kept supporting your lower back.

"I don't know..." your shaky voice was interrupted by your sniffling, "I just- I've never felt like this... I'm so full to the brim of emotions and they're pouring out."

He hummed, nodding his head. "You must know that emotions here are amplified. It's totally normal to feel overwhelmed."

"Is that true?" The grip you had on his robe loosened and you leaned back seeking his eyes.

Dream immediately brought one hand to your face, wiping a tear from your cheekbone with his thumb.

"It is."

It made sense to you. That was still a dream, after all, even though one of a kind. And just like in any other dream you had, good or bad, everything you felt had been ten times more intense. You knew however that what Morpheus had made you feel was totally new for you, dream world or not. You've always yearned to know how it would feel to be desired, to be loved, and truly cared for and Dream had just given you all of that and more. At least that was what you felt. Was it real? Was that intense bubble of emotions pouring out of you real? And was it love? Or something else? Something made up entirely? Would you have felt different in the Waking World? All those unanswered questions were really starting to mess with your head.

You took a moment to scan his face, taking in all his beautiful features, the ones you adored so much. Your fingers reached up to follow your sight in its contemplation, grazing delicately over his skin as if you were scared he could disappear at a moment’s notice, but also as if you were touching a forbidden piece of art of invaluable worth and feeling undeserving of the permission granted to you to even stand so close to it.

You begrudgingly let your arms fall back.

"I'm sorry...", you sighed, giving him an apologetic smile, "I ruined the mood. It was your turn... You still want to...?" You babbled feeling a bit ashamed.

"Y/N. You have not ruined anything." he admonished kindly, brushing affectionately his hand through your hair. "And, I think we should keep something for the next time..."

You perked up at his words.

"For your next dream..."

"Right", you couldn't hide the hint of slight disappointment in your tone.

"Or-", he resumed, leaning forward, a knowing glint in his eyes, "for when you're awake."

As soon as the meaning of his words hit you, you gawked at him, a wide grin taking form on your lips.

"Y-you would?!"

Your earnest reaction made him smile and he nodded.

"If it will ease your mind, of course."

"Oh...", you averted his eyes, rubbing nervously your fingers against your cheek, "am I that easy to read?"

"Perhaps a little", he whispered, taking your hands in his, "the look you gave me just a few moments ago spoke louder to me than words could ever have."

With a sheepish smile you fiddled with his fingers in your lap then you interlocked them with yours and looked up.

"So", he said, leaning his forehead against yours, "until next time, my love?"

You screamed internally at the word 'love' he so earnestly uttered to adress you. There was no way you could refrain the wide smile that popped up on your face as you answered, "until next time".

You both leaned forward to meet in a soft and lingering kiss worth a thousand words.

-

"This dream is over."

A/N = thank you for reading! I hope you liked the story. Feel free to leave a comment to tell me what you think of it, feedback is always appreciated.

Also, you're welcome to come over on Ao3 and Wattpad where this story and other my works are published as well, to live kudos, stars and read other people's comments and opinions. [author's name is the same everywhere]

I officially don't take requests but I'm open to suggestions and I might use your ideas for a future story so either leave a comment under one of my stories, dm me or send an anonymous request.

Thank you again and until next time! xx

My fucking God please this is perfect I need more please

Morpheus Alphabet NSFW.-B

So Claiming his Queen part 4 will not be up tonight as I am writing a juicy ending to the chapter, so as a thanks for all your amazing support please find my first submission to Morpheus Alphabet NSFW. If anyone has any requests A-Z let me know!

Warnings- Smut, sexual content 18+

Keep reading

I love it

Claiming his Queen Part 5

Thank you so much for all the comments and likes. It means so much! Thank you for all the requests; if I haven’t replied, don’t worry, I am working my way through them.- Please leave a comment 

Warning smut and dark theme.

There was something tender in the way Morpheus carried you. Exhaustion had taken your body as the intense cold consumed you. You were relieved when Morpheus hoisted you effortlessly in his arms as you disappeared into a swirl of sand.

He was cradling you to his chest, your face burrowing against the side of his. It wasn’t till now that you registered how pleasant he smelt; more than that, it was intoxicating. There were no words to describe it other than an earthy spice, woodsy and warm, but something sweeter underneath. Blueberries? Blackberries? Gooseberries? You nudged your nose closer to the base of his throat and groaned in bliss, surrendering to the untainted fragrance.

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do yourself a favor and read this story while listening to earned it by the weeknd... you're going to feel morpheus's kisses on your neck... it's so spectacular

under-negotiations

morpheus x reader. no use of y/n. fuck, with feeling, aka smut (rough-ish) unedited (eve babitz would understand)

“I know about Nada,” you tell Morpheus when he reaches for you. His hand halts, hovering over your cheek. You long for his cool touch against you on this hot summer night. Even at midnight, the warmth of the day remains ever present.

But you also know about Nada. 

And that more than anything frightens you. Already, you were aware of who he was. Just because he appeared to you as a man, did not make him flesh and blood. And yet knowing all that, being aware of his severe reputation in the supernatural community, had not stopped your attraction to him blossoming into more. You had grown fond of the melancholic and surly man. 

In the stories, it always went badly for the mortal.

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oh my god my heart ached for calliope but i loved this story so much

New Beginnings | Sandman imagine

Summary: After Calliope’s cry for help, Morpheus goes to her rescue and the muse finds out her former lover has moved on.

Pairing: Morpheus x Reader

Request: Yes

When Morpheus heard Calliope’s calling he was quick to attend and free her from her imprisonment. Out of respect and honoring for the love and grief they shared, Morpheus wouldn’t be capable of lying to himself, as Calliope was undoubtedly a huge part of his story and once was the mother of his child, he couldn’t just sit around and do nothing.

He still felt an immense love for her, and it made his blood boil to find out about her confinement in the hands of Richard Madoc, so he made sure that he would get the right punishment for his atrocities, the man didn’t deserve mercy. Men such as him were rats, cowards who had to be taught a lesson.

For the first time in ages Calliope was free and while she was grateful to Oneiros she was also wondering if he still had feelings for her, out of the wrath he depicted when he imparted justice and the immense tension that filled the room when Morpheus was alone with her.

No matter how much time they spent apart, Calliope still knew her former lover like the back of her hand, and they still couldn’t bring up the subject of their son. But knowing how apprehensive the Endless was, she highly doubted he even acknowledged his pain and grief.

Seeing as he almost walked out that door and it would probably take ages for her to see Oneiros again, she dared to speak.

“May I visit you in the Dream Realm sometime…” His dark blue eyes fixated on her, shining with indescribable emotion. “So that we may finally talk about our son?”

Morpheus opened his mouth to speak, finally understanding the closeness of Calliope was a demonstration of her restraint love, a love maybe she wasn’t even aware that was still there…

But before he could say something female voice he knew very well filled his ears and draw his attention along with Calliope’s.

“Bubs?” A thin woman was outside, just a few feet away from where Morpheus was standing, she was radiant and beautiful, looking at the eternal man with love, when looking carefully at his expression Calliope could see how Morpheus’ face lighted up at the side of you, his whole face changed.

The muse’s heart shattered quietly, the bit of hope she had in Oneiros still loving her died right there. Suddenly, two little kids not older than three years old came out from under your skirt, the toddlers ran in Morpheus direction and he welcomed them with open arms.

You walked over to Morpheus and he was quick to grab you by the waist and kiss you softly. You grabbed your arms around his neck, smiling.

“I’m sorry, love. They insisted”

“It was a very nice surprise” Dream said, picking his daughter up. While your son had his eyes fixated on Calliope who’s eyes watered at the sight of the raven haired boy, he was the living image of Oneiros and her heart ached as she was reminded of the son she lost centuries ago.

For the first time since you arrived you looked at Calliope and she looked back at you, smiling lightly with nostalgia.

“I’m sorry, I’m Y/N. Queen and wife to Morpheus” you reached out your hand to her, she shook it and was reminded of the time she was his as well.

“Calliope” she replied, you nodded slightly, something in your eyes changed, it was some sort of acknowledgment. Of course you knew who she was.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you”

“Likewise” you turned to Morpheus.

“We should leave now, darling it’s getting late” your children whined, protesting.

“But we want to see the Waking World, mama!” the older twin spoke, pouting and batting his long eyelashes at you.

“We’ll have plenty of time to see it, Acanthus” Morpheus told his son, kneeling before him and pinching his nose lightly, making the boy giggle.

“You promise, papa?” Now his daughter spoke, he nodded.

“I promise, Roseann. Now please go back with your mother to the Dreaming. I’ll join you shortly” both of his children complied his command and said goodbye to their father and Calliope before vanishing with you to the Dream realm.

Morpheus looked at Calliope once again, the whole atmosphere changed when getting a glimpse of his new life. The muse now understood that was the tension she felt earlier, the nervousness from a kept secret and not an unexpressed love as she believed at first.

“A rose and a thorn…” Calliope murmured, making Morpheus smile weakly, imagining how she must felt at this specific time.

“One cannot exist without the other, and being twins… it seemed fitting. Y/N suggested it, actually” the muse giggled.

“Of course” there was a minute of silence after that. “You have a beautiful family, Oneiros. I’m happy for you” he smiled, Morpheus was truly happy now, after centuries of grief and pain and he wished the same for his former lover. But all he could say was two simple words.

“Goodbye, Calliope”

“I will never forget this. Fare you well”

Then, Morpheus disappeared in a swirl of sand, leaving Calliope standing all by herself under the moonlight, but being left with another important thing…

Freedom.

for the love of God... this story left me wanting Tom mr to make love being morpheus ok 👌 I loved this story too much... you should read it

Like silk (Morpheus x Reader)

Pairing: Morpheus x fem!reader

Summary: In the afterglow of your lovemaking, you marvel at your immortal lover’s softness, inside and out.

Warnings: nudity, not full-on smut but heavily mentioned throughout and initiated at the end (minors DNI!!!), the author is soft af for Dream’s ethereal features and it shows

Word count: ~1.1K

A/n: Just some fluff inspired by Calliope’s line in the comics quoted below. Hope you enjoy!

***

“He was so gentle, and his skin felt like white silk against my skin.” - Calliope, The Sandman #71

***

Soft.

Everything is so, so soft. The warm breeze sneaking through the open palace window, the thin sheet lovingly draped over your bare lower half but a few moments ago, the mattress you’re resting on, the pillow beneath your head. And the softest of all - your lover’s skin, pressed against yours as you lie in his arms.

You could tell at first glance that his body would no doubt feel as ethereal as he looked. But you hadn’t imagined just how smooth his skin could possibly be, how much it would feel like the finest silk as it glided over yours with each thrust.

In truth, you hadn’t anticipated how gentle he could be, either. You’d expected him to make love as dominantly as he behaved, if not as coldly. Undoubtedly seeking consent and aiming for your pleasure, but coaxing it from your body by commanding you towards it with his, claiming it without falter.

Instead, you’d found yourself showered in tender caresses and feather-light kisses, the tips of his fingers almost hesitant as they meticulously learned where and how to touch so you would tremble in delight. And though you relished the steel firmness of his chest and abdomen pressed flush against your softest parts as he moved inside you, he’d done so with the greatest care, taking notice of your every little reaction and adjusting accordingly. By the end, you’d been lost in a silky cloud of pleasure floating across the night sky, illuminated only by the stars in your lover’s eyes.

You have no doubt he could be rough in bed as well, and the thought isn’t unappealing in the slightest. But for now, you simply lie there, satiated and content with the length of your body half-covering his, and your fingers tracing idle lines over his heart. You marvel at how smoothly your fingertips glide along his alabaster skin as they follow the line between his well-defined pectoral muscles, then make a slow, winding trail over the right one.

Dream lies back with his eyes closed, though he never sleeps. He’s simply relishing your touch, his arm wrapped around you as he lightly brushes his own fingers over your shoulder.

“You’re so soft,” you mouth into his skin, barely a murmur. He gives a low, questioning hum. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you’ve woken him from a deep slumber. You almost feel bad even so, having interrupted his rare moment of peace with such a random thought.

“I said, you’re very soft,” you repeat a bit sheepishly. “Your skin. It feels like silk.”

He’s silent for a moment. “Does that please you, my love?”

If his skin is white silk, his voice is black velvet. It rumbles deeply within his chest, where your cheek is resting.

You sigh at the feeling, but frown slightly as your hand pauses in its movement. “Why would it not?”

“A matter of taste, I suppose,” he says in casual manner. “I can alter any aspect of my appearance if you like. You need only ask.”

He says it like it’s nothing to him, and it is. But you find yourself almost... disturbed at the notion.

You lift yourself up so you’re sitting sideways, leaning on one hand while the other rests on his stomach. He reaches for it to play with your fingers now that you have removed yourself from his embrace. You look down at your touching hands, mesmerized by how well your fingers fit with his as he guides them into a languid dance of small, tender brushes against one another. Your eyes then drift to the contours of his beautifully chiseled abs, then travel across his strong chest, rising and falling with each breath, and finally linger on his face. The impossibly soft rosy lips whose touch you can still feel on every inch of your skin, the elegant line of his nose, the sharp jawline your fingertips had loved to trace, the black, unruly hair you had tugged on at the height of your pleasure, coaxing a low groan from your lover. And, last but not least, his eyes - the universe itself contained in two never-ending pools of starlight, spilling into the ocean of his irises.

You love him for what he is. His wondrous mind, his unwavering commitment to his given role despite its hardships, his depth of feeling, hard though as he strives to contain and conceal it. But you can’t deny that his physical form alone is the most ethereal, bewitching sight that has ever blessed your eyes.

“You are perfect, Morpheus,” you breathe out, holding back a shudder. To lose yourself like this in the image of him lying bare beside you is almost too much.

The lightest crease appears between his brows. His gaze stays locked on you as he sits up, bringing his face inches away from yours. He lowers his eyes to your body, studying you as you did him. His knuckles trace a gentle line over your skin, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake - from your folded knee, along your thigh and over your hip, up your stomach, then pausing a moment to follow the soft curve of your breast. It takes but the lightest touch of his thumb on your nipple to have it grow into a stiff little peak, making you gasp and shudder as you try to keep still under his observing gaze.

His fingers continue their path over your fluttering heart, then up the sensitive skin of your neck, until he finally cups your cheek and looks you in the eye once more. You think he might say something, but he only parts his lips so he can close them over yours.

It makes sense. He never quite knows how to receive your kind words. But he is always oh-so-willing to be kind to you.

His lips taste of stardust and rainfall and home. Of everything he is and everything you dream of, because he is your dreams. And you sink into him as easily as you drift to sleep. Gently guided by his hands, you shift onto his lap, your thighs on each side of his. The hard length of him nudges at your lower belly, seeking permission.

“I want you again,” you mewl softly into his mouth, eagerly granting it.

He breaks the kiss to look into your eyes as he takes your wrist in his hand, and lowers it into the heated space between your bodies. He takes his time savouring the feeling as he wraps his fingers over yours around his length.

“I am yours,” he declares as if it’s the simplest, more natural thing in the world. You guide the tip of him to your entrance, sighing as it kisses your wet folds.

“And I am yours,” you vow in return.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, and abandon yourself once more to his silken embrace.

***

A/n: Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are very appreciated🤗

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