#Morpheus x reader

[doukeshi-kun]

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 (𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨) + 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨

notes ✥ i think his eyes would give starry sparkle bright flicker when he's jealous ehehe

content ✥ gn!reader, murphy and cat is my fav genre

“Dream, look!”

Morpheus stops his track when you suddenly exclaim excitedly, shaking his arm. His eyes travel to the direction you’re pointing at and he sees a rotund black cat walking towards the both of you. You gasp and crouch, making a gesture with your hand to call the cat to you. 

“Come here, kitty.” You say softly. The black cat meows and jogs towards you. His belly jiggles and you squeal in adoration. The friendly cat bumps his head against your hand, purring. 

“He’s so friendly, aww…” You coo as you carefully carry the cat into your arms. You look at Morpheus and a little smile is already on his face. His dark irises are not on the cat, however. Rather, they’re firmly on you.

“Don’t you think he’s cute?” You say. Morpheus looks at the cat. The cat meows at him, his fluffy paw clawing the air in front of the Dream King.

“Yes, he is.”

“Ah, right. Didn’t your sibling, Desire, say that you tend to turn into a cat—”

“Desire,” Morpheus cuts you off. His voice is firm and layered with a little irk towards his sibling. “Desire was merely jesting. I advise you to not trust their words, lest you would succumb to their cruel tricks.”

“… Right…” You snicker. You turn to the fat cat, giggling at the way the cat squints his eyes at you, so lovingly. “But don’t you think being a cat has its benefits? Like, everyone just loves you.” You smooch the black cat, causing him to meow. “And you would be taken care of all of your life. You just have to look cute and sit in a box!” You kiss the cat again. 

For a second, Morpheus’ eyes flicker and you certainly do not miss that. That flicker is bright—a sudden light from within the void.

“It would certainly be an easy life.” Morpheus nods. His voice is dark and sultry, yet very soft. “Your clothes are dusty now.”

“Huh?” You look down at yourself, realising how your shirt has some grass and dirt on it. You scoff, kissing the cat again. “You’ve been playing a lot, kitty? Yeah, you do,” You giggle before you kiss the cat’s head once more. 

Morpheus’ eyes flicker. Again. 

You look at him, one eyebrow perks up. You grin teasingly at him. “Dream, don’t tell me you’re jealous of some kisses on a cat?”

“Not at all.” He says, poutily.

Yet his eyes flicker again. 

©doukeshi-kun 2025 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, more @/cherikolya

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[attackurheart88]

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really love me?”

“Yes.”

"Do you really really love me?”

They stop what they’re doing and turn to look at you. An audible sigh is heard.

“If I come over there and kiss you until your lips fall off will you shut up?”

[hey-iam-fire-ghost-but-i-write]

the black cat

Lord Morpheus x Fem!Reader

not my gif, credits to the owner

English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes but be nice about it!

Summary: morning brings a strange sight out the widow of the inn.

Warning: Morpheus being Morpheus (annoyingly quiet while being sweet)

Word Count: 2.3K

-

There was something peculiar about that cat.

You called for Hob, who was probably still upstairs sleeping without a care for the world. It was really early in the morning after all, but you had things to do.

Things that did not involve a black cat staring at you through the kitchen's window as it sits in the middle of the garden.

So you started the pot, took out the tea sets and prepared the trays for breakfast. The inn was full this morning, and they all paid for the morning service.

Yet you still felt the stare.

The cat had a long fluffy tail that moved slowly behind it's body. It was sitting on the morning dew grass and besides bored— he looked rather annoyed.

What an expressive little creature— still staring intently at you.

There was definitely something peculiar about that cat, for no cat had that incredibly golden eye look on them.

A curious set of eyes, indeed— one that you’ve avoided countless of times out of flusteredness.

You wrapped yourself with your crochet blanket, long white dress flowing at your ankles as you opened the back door of the kitchen.

London's sky was white, and your naked shoulders didn't help at all to fight the intense coldness of the morning. The animal followed every single one of your steps with it’s eyes, without moving it's head.

It's stoic posture and soft purring was all the confirmation you needed.

You bent down in front of the black cat and smiled "Morning, Dream".

The cat looked at you oh so disinterested, and then back at the New Inn's window.

Looking at the angry movement of his tail, you purse your lips "Shall we warm up inside, Lord Morpheus?" you suggest, the title feeling slightly foreign in your tongue.

You grabbed him from under his front legs and stood up. Fur incredibly cold to the touch, but heart beating out of his chest in warmth.

Funny enough, you cradled him close to your own chest.

And his purring sounded almost like a complaint for being coddled.

"I get the sense that these aren't chosen circumstances" Morpheus dropped his fur chin on your shoulder.

Giving up.

"I see" you nod, sighing as you walk back into the kitchen.

Putting away the pot from the fire, you walk with him between your arms and towards the makeshift lobby— a common area Hob insisted on having for the guests.

A fire crackling, and a soft sofa where you placed Morpheus carefully.

"Hob" you called once again towards the stairs, and yet there was no answer. Looking back down at Morpheus, you tilt your head, "What to do of you?" you pondered "Has your raven deserted you, Dream? Is there a way to call upon Matthew? Surely Lucienne will know what to do"

But the cat looked up, then around and then— oh, he was rolling his eyes at you.

Frowning, you watch him lay his chin down on the cushion as he cuddles against the warmth of the sofa.

"Urgency is not of the matter, I see" you sigh, dropping your hands from your hips and turning back to the kitchen "I'll get back to mine as you do what you must"

It never takes much to get Morpheus in a vexing state, always closer to grumpiness than ease. The problem resided in trying to bright him out of that state, for it more often than not felt quiet like the impossible task.

He was patient with it too, willing to rest on the deliberate annoyance for as long as he pleased since he knew everyone around him had no choice but to accept it and act accordingly.

Years behind glass does that to a being, his teeth rooted out—no way to bite into the hand that hurt him. Just patience, as his wretched heart grew bitter and bitter.

But even now, exhausted out of vengeance since there was no one else to rest it upon, he found himself falling more and more into his biting side.

Quiet side, you thought, looking at his direction— stranged out by what he could be possibly plotting in his now far too small brain.

Maybe it is a chosen state.

You wrap up your preparations, and one by one you deliver the trays filled with warm food and beverages- knocking on Hob's door afterwards once again.

"Seems like your friend's out of our reach" you announce to Morpheus, going down the steps of the stairs. He doesn't even lift his small head to look at you "Just us for the time being, you're not imposing at all" you nod, sarcastically.

His tail hits the air like a whip, not appreciating your comment.

You lift an eyebrow, dipping down just to lift him up once again "I think you're rather rude in this form, King of Dreams" you nod, cradling him against your chest once again as you sit down for your own breakfast "Your need for silence doesn't match your need for companionship, which is weird for someone in your position" you nod, sipping at your tea as Morpheus uses one of his paws to pull from your chest to look into your eyes with intent "Although it's rather preferable than the alternative" that makes his pupils close in a straight line, which makes you chuckle "Bold of his majesty to try and contain all his anger in such a small form— have you chosen black because you feel unlucky, my Lord?" you tease him further.

Tail hitting your arm, and pupils going wide once again— Morpheus's head nudges at your jaw, burrowing against your neck as you keep on drinking your tea.

Humming, you try to find the words.

"I do not know what has depressed his majesty to this point, but if safe heaven is what Lord King's looking for—" you scratch his neck "—then safe heaven I shall provide"

Purring, he hides his cold nose away against your skin.

"Let's just have breakfast and watch how long it takes Hob to notice it is you" you smile contently.

It did take a long while for Hob to actually notice who this strange cat tailing you was— once he did, he almost threw a party.

Morpheus spent the rest of the day on his friend's arms, being taught things about both your routines that he's never learnt before. Being talked down as if he was a newborn creature would surely annoy him, but you've come to the conclusion that nothing Hob could ever do to the King Lord would ever vex him— for they both spent too much time in anxious separation, as the immortal would put it.

Inseparably annoying, Morpheus and Hob would go about their day as if it was the same occasion as always.

And when night time came and the King didn't attempt to make his leave, it was only natural for you both to settle into your night time routines as per usual.

Bedroom dimly lit by oranges and yellows, you were sat on your vanity as you unknot your hair before bed when Hob's head popped off the door he cracked slightly open "Does milk seem like a good option?" he asks, Morpheus in his arms looking at you too.

"I've heard you don't give cats milk— could cause trouble" you nod, looking at them through your mirror.

"Do we have tuna, then?" he asks, rather worried.

"I do not think so, love, none of us enjoy it so much so I don't often buy it" you point out, turning on your chair exactly when Morpheus jumps off Hob's arms and stalks towards you.

"I do miss when cats were merely domesticated, they could eat rancid cheese and still walk the day off" Hob nods.

"This is no ordinary cat" you point out, booping Morpheus nose when his front paws nudge your thigh— looking up at you as his pupils widen "And I do not think the Lord of Dreams would wish for the food a cat could digest anyways, nor he would need it"

"Alright then, bud, you've heard our love— leave her be" Hob nods, calling upon Morpheus again.

And the cat silently follows his instructions, walking lazily towards his old friend.

It takes you a far longer time to be able to fall asleep in your bed, and when you do there's claws on your door.

Sighing as you rose, weighing yourself on your elbow, the door cracked open by Hob's hand and then closed again just as fast— without even a word.

"Have you grown bored of the man's company, Dream?" you wonder, turning to your side as the cat jumps onto the bed— sitting up to look at you boringly so.

For the first time in forever, he actually meows.

Which makes your heart sing.

"What's troubling you, friend?" you wonder mindlessly, resting once again against your pillow as your hand looks for his fur— hearing him purr at the contact "Is it easier? This form?" you ask softly.

The black cat has no words, and has no intention of even trying to voice anything to you.

Still, you pressed "Is it rather simpler to let yourself be coddled when you're like this? To take what you would not usually allow to even be suggested?"

The cat sighs, almost too human-like to not let a smirk grow on your lips— and he nuzzles his way into your arms. Spine arching and limbs flexing, his silky hair caressing all the way towards your chest. Head flopping down on your neck and warm body pressed against your nightgown.

"Cheeky little god" you whisper softly, holding him closer "Putting me through all kinds of strange situations just to get what you want" you sigh, closing your eyes.

Slumber softly rocking the both of you.

In the morning, your room is still dark when you find yourself stirring— long legs tangled with yours, warm breath on your collarbone and a hand grabbing a handful of your hair.

He's on top of you —in the only form you know him to portray apart from his feline one— softly nuzzling further against your warmth.

As you grab a handful of his hair too, you pull at it softly calling for his attention.

A soft hum vibrates from him, complaint and annoyance palpable in his tone.

But you couldn't care less, so you pull harder at his hair— only for him to pull at yours too as his eyes flash gold in a warning look towards you.

"Isn't my whole body enough for his majesty?" you croak out, feeling him snaking further up to reach for your neck.

Biting and sighing— playing with his food. His need was familiar, and you laid comfortable under it.

As you usually do.

"It is not" he rasps, voice hoarse thanks to the hours he spent not using it "Not nearly enough" he pulls at your hair even harder, biting down at your skin as he shifts on top of you. Sighing and closing your eyes, you try not to think too much about his raw honesty.

Ando so, legs open wider for his hips and you crane your neck back at the way he's feeding his hunger from you.

"You grew tired of the silence" you point out, almost accusatory in a soft whisper.

"I grew tired of not biting," he replies, lips caressing up toward the corner of your mouth.

Voices finding home in the darkness of your dreamroom.

The quiet rain outside would probably keep you both inside, all of the morning and into the night.

Your fingers untangle from his hair and fall against his cheek, pulling him slightly away so you can see into his eyes "What's got you troubled?" you ask, knowing it would take far more than a sweet mouth and a warm body to pull him out of his self indulgent misery.

"Have I been misunderstood?" he inquires, looking between your eyes. His grip leaves your hair to travel downwards, soft against the skin of your thigh as he slides the nightgown up— grabbing a handful in the cold palm of his hand.

You look around his face when he says that, knowing what it means.

He didn't change back to talk, he changed back to find other ways to quieten his mind.

And then, something shifts in his gaze— something softer shining through. Most likely mirroring you.

"I would rather have my mouth full of you—" he points out, simple and easy "than with words that could bore you into oblivion" his hand squeezes and kneads at the skin of your hip.

You hum, fingertips caressing his cheek "His majesty cleary underestimates how much the sound of his voice brightens my days"

Is soft, and small— but a confession either way.

Morpheus sighs, "Mellow" he accuses.

"Honest" you counterpart.

"Throughout foolish" he nods, looking down at you in something closer to amusement.

You pull lightly at his hair once again, "And it still entices you" you nod.

Now he's smiling wide, looking down at you.

So he was utterly playful this morning.

You should’ve known: his shapeshifting was no more than an incredibly exhausting way for him to pout upon feeling sorry for himself.

Which lately’s been happening more often.

Staying for a few minutes in silence, you look around his face "Would it make his majesty feel any better? If we keep ourselves locked inside this room for six days" you ask teasingly.

The exact amount of time it took the creator to make the universe burst into existence.

He snickers, his cold face burrowing into your neck "I'm going to devour you" he warns in a muffled whisper, making you giggle as your hands cradle his jawline.

And it takes you both more than a few knocks from Hob to be able to stop your early morning activities.

[goopysoup]

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Morpheus finds you to be the absolute dumbest woman he’s ever met in the history of his entire life- forever.

But that’s why he loves you.

Not only are you dumb enough to fall for his tough exterior, but you somehow managed to break open the incredibly hard and locked up shell of his. You’ve made Dream of the Endless soft. Congratulations.

There was no hint of a doubt that Morpheus was curious about you in the beginning. Constantly looking into your dreams, occasionally appearing in them just to feel your skin on his fingertips. Occasions turned to every night very quickly.

You’d dreamt of this man for weeks, and it only confused you. It felt so real.. he felt so real, like you could touch him and feel the warmth radiating from his skin. You could feel the breath from his parted lips as he looks down at you, almost like he wanted to kiss you.

So, it was a major surprise when you saw him outside of your dreamscape. The night had fallen and your body had refused to let you sleep, even through the ache in your tired eyes and the exhaustion your being felt. So, what better way to spend the night than to go for a casual stroll?

Streetlights dimly lit your path, the pavement wet from the rainstorm earlier that evening. You could still hear water drops dripping from the rooftops. The stars were hard to see, you silently cursed yourself for deciding to live in such a large city, the stars always made you feel less alone when you looked at them.

You sat down on a bench, the overhead having blocked the rain from getting the seat too wet, making it the perfect place to sit for the time being. You looked out at the city, seeing all the lights illuminating like stars brought you peace of mind, all up until you see him.

You couldn’t tell if you were just immensely tired or if he was truly there, standing just a ways away from you.

“Is this seat taken?” His voice was just the same as it was in your dreams, soft and low, maybe a tad raspy. You shook your head, not trusting your words, and he sat next to you.

It didn’t take long for him to reveal himself to you, not that it was entirely hard to figure out but you were a bit slow at discovering it.

“So.. you’re the man of my dreams?”

“.. you mean the man in your dreams?”

“I know what I said.”

Flabbergasted, he was. It had been all too long since anyone was openly flirting with him like that, he almost forgot how to speak.

You didn’t mind his quiet nature, just as he didn’t mind your yapping. Morpheus liked listening to you talk because that meant he didn’t have to.

There were many times where he would lay his head in your lap, listening to you talk about your day all while your hands brushed through his already messy hair- you only made it worse and laughed at him when he would sit up.

Morpheus adored you, your silly habits and quirks, they were what made you.. well, you.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Lady Luck is Smiling - Chapter Three

.☘︎ ݁˖ Misericors Fortuna Adiuvat- Fortuna favors the compassionate.

Summary: When the Fates leave Morpheus' call unanswered, he gains insight into another goddess that may be able to help regain his lost tools. Lady Luck, as you go by now as opposed to Fortuna nor Tyche, is the second youngest of the Four Ladies. Morpheus is determined to learn how and what makes you smile, for your smile will allow luck to be on his side, and with any of it, will he find his tools.

Warnings/Tags: Sometimes, you have to be cringe.

Word count: 3.6k

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

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•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

“I said the Sandman, and guess what? The Sandman,” Mad Hettie officially presents Morpheus as Johanna walks up to you and him. There is a certain “I-told-you-so” tone to her voice that you chuckle at. 

“It’s good to have you back, milord, milady,” Hettie smiles happily, one that you return before she hobbles away. 

“My gran used to tell me stories about you lot,” Johanna says once Hettie is out of earshot. 

“I have known your family for centuries.” Morpheus confirms the stories with a single sentence. 

“Then you know there’s not one of us that can be trusted.” A moment of tense silence passes between them and you feel like a fly on the wall. “What do you want with me then?”

“I believe you may know something about a possession of mine. A leather pouch filled with sand, a helm made from the bones of a dead god, or a ruby made from my essence.”

“What makes you think I have any of it?”

“Do you not?”

Johanna sighs. She has—or she did come in contact with a leather pouch of sand. Though she has no idea how Morpheus figured that out. 

“I bought a pouch of sand at an estate sale a while back. Didn’t even manage to get the drawstrings open.”

Morpheus breathes out a deep sigh. Blessed be Lady Luck for you do smile upon him. He turns his head slightly, looking at you but you are rummaging through your brown paper bag for your hamburger instead. 

“What’s so important about your sand?” Johanna’s question brings his attention back to her instead. 

Your eyes dart back and forth between them. You feel like you’re at the movies—the sexual tension between them. Umph, so palpable. 

You chew your dry hamburger with great interest as Morpheus seizes into Johanna’s personal space, but you know she won’t back down. She’s far too stubborn for that. They bicker a bit more before you decide this was too much tension for you. 

With Morpheus so occupied, you simply wander off. It’s been a while since you’ve stepped outside your casino. You take in the breath of fresh air as if you were a recently released convict. Though, the prison you escaped from would have been one of your own doing. 

Your eyes wander around the empty pavilion, your mind so occupied with other thoughts you almost miss it. On a lone bench, a raven perches amongst the drab and rain. 

Do ravens live in London? You thought they just exist in forests or something. An odd shimmer of magic radiates from it as it judges you from the distance. 

“Hello,” it speaks. “I’m looking for—awk!”

You snatched the bird in one hand, the other still loyal to a half eaten burger. There’s no way you can’t show this to Morpheus. It’s a talking bird!

He’s still tensely conversing with Johanna when you barge yourself back into their conversation. 

“What is that?” Morpheus asks, looking down at your hands. 

“Um,” you look down as well. Why would he ask about that? “It’s a hamburger? Come on, you were there when we ‘bought’ this!”

Morpheus gives you an impatient look. “No, that.”

“Oh!” You hold up the captured bird. “I found a fucking talking bird!”

“You, release me. Heathen, barbaric, unhand me this instant!” The raven caws, his sharp beak pecking at the meat of your thumb. “I am here to find Dream of the Endless and I will not be stopped!” 

“Oop,” you mutter, then hold the raven higher to meet Morpheus’ eyes. 

“Who are you? Tell me your name,” Morpheus frowns. 

“It’s, uh, Matthew… sir.” ‘Matthew’ answers, bobbing his head as he swallows down his nerves. 

Morpheus takes a step back, an annoyed look crossing over his features. You analyze the look. It’s almost as if he was hoping it to be a regular raven, that your random ramblings were just that—random. 

“Matthew,” he tests the name like it’s a displeasing flavor amongst his tongue. “I have made it clear to Lucienne that I do not require a raven at this time.”

Matthew caws awkwardly. “Yeaaaahhhh,” he drags out. “She told me you would say that.”

“If I need assistance I will ask for it, but at this time…”

Your eyes connect with Johanna’s as she makes a quiet escape. You give her a discrete nod and a smile before returning your attention back to Morpheus’ and Matthew’s bickering. 

“But, sir, you do need my help. She’s—”

“Do not interrupt me, as I was saying. If I need—”

“She’s getting away, she’s… gone.” Matthew squirms uncomfortably in your grasp and you loosen it so that he could stand in your flat palms instead. “See, this is why you need a raven.” He mutters under his breath. 

Morpheus turns around, finding Johanna gone like the wind. The pavilion turns empty once more. 

“Go back to the Dreaming, Matthew,” Morpheus commands, annoyance rolling off him. 

The raven flies off your hands and perches on a bench again. You give it a wave goodbye before you’re inclined to follow a moping Morpheus. His strides are long as you stuff the rest of your half-eaten burger into your mouth. The excess grease on your hands gets wiped on your pants. 

You’re not going to say that it’s his fault that he lost Johanna, but you sure will think it. Though, you did let her slip away undisrupted so maybe it was partly your fault. But only partly. 

The two of you stop at a nearby park. It’s small, only a winding path with some trickling fountains and a bunch of leafless oak trees. A small chill ran through the late night and just the slightest hint of dawn was starting to creep over the horizon. 

A ladybug crawls over the edge of the stone fountain and you extend a finger so it could climb onto your hand. Odd, considering that ladybugs typically came out in the warmer hours of the day. 

“Hullo, miladyyy…” the little insect squeaks quietly, barely audible. 

“Why did you decline Matthew’s help?” You ask suddenly. 

“I do not see how this pertains to anything.”

“He is your raven, they are your familiars. Are they not?” You push. 

“The last raven that tried to help me died,” he bluntly answers. 

His eyes peel away from the ripple of the water to yours and the sorrow you find swirling within them is heavy. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Your little ladybug friend flutters off your finger and lands on his shoulder, six legs dancing away the tweed of his cosmic jacket. 

You understand, though. It’s like a punishment inflicted by himself for himself. He feels responsible for his raven dying—not for him, but because of him. In this notion of thinking, he denies himself any help, and believes that denying help will also save Matthew from meeting the same fate. 

But how can he know that, if Matthew is an entirely different raven and therefore will face an entirely different set of circumstances and fates?

Perhaps you would think about it more if something didn’t catch your eye. It’s hard to make out by the way the water ripples in the fountain. You hold your breath as you dunk your head into the cold water. You can hear Morpheus protesting, but the sound is muffled. 

Thankfully, your fingers manage to wrap around the object before he yanks you out of the water by the collar of your shirt. Your hair is dripping wet and it’s seeping into your clothes, but you don’t care. 

“One day I hope to understand anything that occurs within that flowery brain of yours.” Morpheus’ scorn rolls off your back like water on a duck. 

You hold up the coin to him with a proud smile. “Lucky penny,” you say simply. “And very shiny.”

“It’s a shilling,” he corrects you instead. The chance of you finding a coin that’s no longer in circulation nor minted is not lost on him. You really do represent the epitome of luck.

“Rare?”

Morpheus sighs. “Supposedly.”

“Lucky shilling,” you chuckle. “Shy-neigh, shinyyy~” you sing as you wave the coin around his face. 

You peek back over the fountain with a small smile. You do love your little trinkets. “Hey, what are the chances I find another one?” You challenge the universe.

“Incalculable,” Morpheus replies. 

“Oh, hello,” you mutter to yourself as your hand dips into the cold fountain water again. The smell of wet metal coins fill your nose as your finger wraps around yet another rare coin. “Nice,” you giggle to yourself. 

“Tada, another shiny coin,” you boast, holding up the two shillings to Morpheus. 

You begin to sing again. It’s horribly off tune and the lyrics don’t quite make sense but that’s okay. You were always better at dancing than singing. 

‘Found me a coin in a fountain, soaking in the wet Smells like cupronickel and old regret Shimmered in the moonlight, might be just my luck Two makes a pair and a pattern of… of… ducks? Yes, DUUUUUUUUUUUCKS!!’

“Stop.” Morpheus places his hand over your lips when you try to hit a high note that could’ve made a banshee jealous. 

The look on Morpheus’ face is insurmountable as you lick the palm of his hand in retaliation. It’s the most emotion you’ve seen on him yet. You frown at him as he still doesn’t move his hand and you go to lick at him again. Thankfully for both of your sake’s, he removes his hand before you resort to biting. 

There’s a tense moment of silence only accompanied by the sound of crickets. It doesn’t last long as your eyes notice Morpheus’ new raven reappearing in the night sky. “Oh, he’s back.”

Matthew flaps, quite loudly if you might add, and lands on the edge of the fountain you and Morpheus are resting by. You pull the small fast food brown bag from the pocket of your jacket, not wanting to get the remaining chicken nuggets dry. 

Matthew is like a breath of fresh air after what occurred in the church. His voice soothing like a nostalgic memory of a summer spent with a childhood friend. Though, you may have also found his presence amusing, simply for the fact of how easily he vexes Morpheus without much effort. 

“I’m back,” Matthew announces, and if he didn’t have a beak you’re sure you would’ve seen a sly smile on his lips. 

“Yes, I see that,” Morpheus responds, his body radiating annoyance like a broken dam. 

“Yeah, you told me to go back to the Dreaming, which I did and then I came back so,” Matthew caws, his head twitching in the weird way that birds often do. “Here I am!”

“Go back to the Dreaming, Matthew,” Morpheus commands again.

“I can’t. The boss lady—”

“If you speak about Lucienne, she is not your master. I am, and I am commanding you to return to the Dreaming.” Morpheus’ words are starting to become clipped, his tone taking something deeper than mere annoyance. 

“But I can help, I’ve lived here my whole life and I know my way around—I smell chicken nuggets.” Matthew pauses, his head jerking around as his beady little eyes try to find the smell. 

“That’s me, here.” You open the paper bag, digging out the small cardboard box of nuggets that you “bought” for Morpheus earlier that night. 

“Ooo, thank you,” Matthew says, flipping the box open with his beak before eating a nugget whole. “Man, I miss thumbs… these are so dry.”

“Don’t complain, I got them for free,” you boast. 

“Anyway,” Matthew continues, taking another nugget. “So we got to find Johanna but we don’t know where she lives, right? She couldn’t have gotten far with just her legs.”

“I know where she lives,” you say with a shrug. 

Morpheus turns to you slowly, the smallest hint of bafflement on his brows. “You failed to bring this up.”

“You didn’t ask,” you retort back, a little sass in your tone. 

“We depart, now,” Morpheus demands, his hands reaching out for your temple again. You didn’t have time to protest, much like the last time Morpheus and you traveled by sand. 

You can feel his presence inside your mind, carding through your knowledge like a file cabinet until he finds what he is looking for. When you open your eyes this time, however, you find yourself in a dream. Morpheus guides you forward with a hovering hand behind your back, needing you not to wander or stray. 

The hallway is barren but smells the same as when Johanna banished Agilieth a few hours ago. The sulfur smell is more intense this time around and there is an undeniable heat that comes from beyond the door. 

“Fuck!” You exclaim, holding your hand in front of your eyes when Morpheus opens the door.

The bright flash of hellish fire dries your skin immediately and makes your irises burn with the intensity of the flame. Morpheus’ hand grabs onto your arm, holding you steady as the portal seems to have your body gravitate towards it. The Dreamscape is merciless to anyone who isn’t Morpheus himself. 

You can hear Johanna chanting in Latin, the words tumbling out of her lips with practiced ease. The portal grows weaker the longer she chants the incantation but something catches your attention from the corner of your eye: a child.

Instinctively you step forward, knowing the dangers that could happen, but Morpheus’ grip on your arm only tightens. 

“No,” he says firmly. “We cannot interfere.”

“But, the child. She will—” Your own words are cut off with a gasp as a tendril of fire wraps itself around her ankle, dragging her to hell’s door. 

You can feel the panic in the air, tense and heavy against your ribcage as Johanna grabs her, the exorcist’s chanting growing more desperate. The gate closes and all that’s left is sticky humidity and a dismembered arm of said child. 

That nauseating feeling you’ve come to associate with Morpheus’ sand teleportation magic curdles in your stomach again, or perhaps it is the smell of burnt iron that leaves your tongue heavy and your mouth dry. 

Morpheus closes the door to the dream, or perhaps it was a nightmare, but it doesn’t end. The door opens again and the scene changes to something you’re all too familiar with: your casino. 

You remember this night specifically and you’re wondering whose memories Morpheus is going through, yours or Johanna’s. Johanna’s sitting across from you on the poker table, her eyes lidded from the overconsumption of alcohol and you stared her dead in the eyes as she so gracefully looks at the new cards she’s dealt. 

The dream is a muffled mess but you remember the conversation well anyway, your curiosity spiked that day. You wanted to know why she was so down in the dumps, why she was wasting her life away at a casino instead of performing another exorcism. But you never turned her away, money was money, right? 

“Tell you what, Constantine,” you remember saying to her. “If I win this next round, you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“Alright,” Johanna says, her words raspy and she sits back with her arms crossed. “And if I win, what do I get?”

You think for a moment before fishing out your necklace from underneath your shirt. “This.”

“Game is on.”

In the end, you lost the bet and you never knew why Johanna came to your casino. All you did know is that she left your casino with $50,000 and your prized possession. All things considered, why did you give her that necklace?

For luck maybe. 

The scene blurs and when you blink, you’re back in the waking world, staring down at a panicked Johanna. Your stomach lurches as you transverse realms again and you and Johanna share a brief look. There was a sudden understanding of why she wanted to bet it all that night at your casino. The life of a child, it’s burnt blood on her hands. 

“Fuck me, you guys just come in through the chimney or something?” Johanna scoffs, clearly displeased. 

Morpheus doesn’t bother with an answer and for that you’re grateful. He didn’t sweep you under the rug, telling her he found her through your shared dreams. Memories, more accurately. 

“You were dreaming.” A half-truth. 

“Apparently,” Johanna responds, her eyes returning to yours. She recalls the necklace you gave her, the one with the little charm on it. 

“It wasn’t a dream, but a memory that keeps you from a restful sleep,” Morpheus states and Johanna doesn’t try to deny it. “I can make it go away.”

“If I help you find your sand, right? Always the transactions with you two. Or is it all deities that are like that?” Johanna’s tone comes out accusatory and you internally wince. She’s not wrong, you accept offerings and sometimes if something catches your attention, you return the favor to the mortals. It is very transactional. “I’ll go look in my office.”

Morpheus follows her and she doesn’t try to protest, throwing a comment about how much messier it is in her office than it is in the living room. You wish she told you that sooner before you tripped over a net made out of silver threads that Johanna had haphazardly placed in front of the door to her office. 

“How do you humans love objects so much?” Morpheus judges, carefully stepping over the netting that nearly took your ankles out. 

“Says the Endless who keeps a raven, how many rocks does your new pal bring back to the Dreaming?” Johanna cracks a joke, skillfully avoiding the question. “Plus, you seem quite obsessed with finding your sand.”

“The sand is not an object, but a part of me.” As Morpheus explains, you explore the small office space. 

When Johanna isn’t looking, you place your take-out bag on one of the surfaces before trailing your finger across the table, dust collecting on the tip before you flick it away. 

Johanna has a little bit of everything. Tools of her trade but also she liked to collect a few other things as well. Silver bullets, maps, doubloons—there was a golden sekhem that once belonged to Pharaoh Thutmose II of Egypt that hung on the wall and right next to it was… damn she still had your necklace after all. 

‘Your artifact is reduced to mere wall decoration,’ your constant demeaning companion whispers in your mind. 

“If your sand was so important to you then how did you lose it?” Johanna’s question brings you back into their conversation, your ears perking as you listen discreetly. Morpheus never did tell you why he needed your help. You only said yes because of that pretty snake he gave you. And also you didn’t really get a choice once he sand-ported you. 

“It was stolen from me,” Morpheus defends. “By another magic user named Burgess.”

“Well, not Rodrick Burgess?” Johanna says with a slight laugh in her tone, her hands still busy digging through her things. “Everyone used to call him a fake. The good ol’ demon king himself. He used to boast that he kept the devil locked up in the basement.”

“Yeah, right,” you pipe in. “Like Lucifer would ever do that.”

“Right?” Johanna agrees, briefly turning to you before a realization hits her. “Oohhh… shit. It wasn’t the devil in his basement was it?”

“What?” You ask, following her eyes as they hold Morpheus’ gaze. 

The way Morpheus tries to hold back the memories is like a punch to your gut. His eyes redden with unshed tears as he tries to maintain that regal air about him. 

“Shit.” Both you and Johanna say at the same time. 

It was definitely not the devil locked up in the basement. A tense silence follows and for once you see Morpheus not as this arrogant, cocky Endless who demands what he wants and gets it, but something else. Trauma follows everyone, not just mortals and he is starting to slip away, back into that dangerous place in his mind again. 

“Johanna,” you interrupt, standing in front of Morpheus to pull her attention away from him. “The sand?”

Johanna looks away, Morpheus turning into a shadow and merging into the dimly lit room. You could still feel his presence, hear the slightly shaky breath he inhales into his lungs, but you purposefully keep your attention towards Johanna, holding her attention to you and not to Morpheus. 

Her eyes gleam with realization as her gaze locks onto a small picture in a basket of other trinkets. Johanna takes a deep breath, the shuddering similar to Morpheus’. “Yeah, I know where it is.”

Johanna brushes past you, her eyes determine as she grabs her creamy coat. You let out a deep breath, your shoulders still tense as you look into the shadows in which Morpheus is still submerged. 

You reach for the wall. Now that Johanna is gone, you yank your necklace from the nail that it hung from, feeling the slight tang of magical energy re-entering your system as the artifact reunites with its original owner. 

Tit for tat. You take your necklace back and in return, you give her the greasy fast food bag you’ve been hauling around all night. 

Even after fastening the necklace, Morpheus still doesn’t step out, his face back to the unreadable neutral expression. You have so many questions you want to ask, so many answers you could’ve had if you didn’t go into hiding. But now was not the time nor place. His sand is close. 

You reach for him but hesitate. Does Morpheus like to be touched? You don’t take the chance to find out. Instead, you reach for the sleeve of his coat, feeling the cosmic thread on your fingertips. You give a small pull and Morpheus reluctantly comes out of the shadows. 

“Come on, big guy. Let’s get your sand,” you murmur and he follows behind you. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I cringed hard writing that singing scene, I hope you know that. I'm sorry I had to put you through that Y/N, but it's in your nature. We are cringe, but we are free.

♡ Yours, Layla

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

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[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

☆☆☆

Chapter One - See you in my dreams

Chapter Two - Take my hand

Chapter Three - Mr Sandman

Chapter Four - Pocket full of sand

Chapter Five - What we are

Chapter Six - Blood and bonds

Chapter Seven - Burgess curse

Chapter Eight - Our purpose

Chapter Nine - Piece of me

Chapter Ten - Our two hearts

Chapter Eleven - Cracks in the glass

Chapter Twelve - Deep rooted nightmares

Chapter Thirteen - Make it count

Epilogue

☆☆☆

Queen of the Dreaming - Coming soon!!

[roguelov]

Had a random brainwave

Imagine Morpheus and his human love have a petty argument and she threatens him with a DREAMCATCHER

basically uses it like a cross to a vampire as a joke to stop the argument

Thoughts 👀

And prayers because he might be pissed 😂

“I told you -“

“No, I don’t care -“

“You are being unreasonable -“

“You know what?” You pulled out a small dream catcher from your pocket - a cute charm you found a few days prior. You lifted it up towards him, jokingly and partially curious if anything would happen. “Goodbye, Dream. We are done with this pointless conversation.”

Morpheus’s eyes flickered down to the dream catcher. You couldn’t be serious, could you? He raised an eyebrow, now more so unamused. “And what is this?”

“It’s a -“

“I know what it is, I am inquiring as to why you believed such a thing would work.”

You stuttered out a bit, “Ah, well, it wards off nightmares and such, so wouldn’t it affect you?“

Morpheus’s lips thinned slightly. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Not even a little bit?”

Morpheus calmly walked towards you and your raised hand. He walked until your hand bumped agaisnt his chest, and the dream catcher pressed into his shirt. He cocked his head as if saying ‘see? Nothing’.

You puckered your lips, a little frustrated it had no effect whatsoever. It was a joke of an idea truly, but it had no effect at all? You huffed and dropped your hand from him. “Well that’s stupid,” you grumbled.

“Did you truly think a petty woven net would stop me?” Morpheus asked.

“… I mean … not really but the thought of it was funny enough to try.”

Morpheus stepped in closer. “Perhaps on one of my nightmares, yes it may ward them off. But to me, The King of Nightmares? You will need something far more powerful.”

“… not even a little bit of irritation?” You mumbled curiously.

“Do you believe me to be a vampire of sorts?”

You winced, “Um, no, but -“

Morpheus surprised you, he laughed once through his nose. He shook his head and whispered under his breath, “You and your strange thoughts.”

You huffed. “It was a perfectly logical idea given who you are.”

“Your way of thinking is very limited to the stories around you, there is far much more to the universe.”

“… whatever.”

Morpheus smiled to himself. “It is a trait I adore in you, do not mistake it for anything else.”

You stared into his eyes for a moment, finding the love pouring out of them. You then smiled at him.

“But,” Morpheus added, “if you try such a thing about it may not end well for you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Morpheus’s eyes then twinkled with delight. He leaned down to your ear. “You may find yourself caught in intricate ropes and woven within my grasp if you try again.”

[milkluvr333]

Not pleased with the lack of new fics for my fav characters (hyper fixations) lately. The withdrawals are eating me alive

[taisiabelle]

Therapist: Oh, you definitely have daddy issues

Me: no, I don't

Also, me hours later realizing all my favorite fictional characters are older man....

[stillinraccooncity]

that feminine urge to read something that makes you cry, get angry, scream, laugh like a hormonal teenager, turn up the heat, feel like the most unique and beautiful human being on earth. *sighs*

[prettydeeryess]

i hate mischaracterization except when it's with a character so cold and/or reserve in the og material that reading about them being extremely down bad for y/n in plain sight while all the other characters are their normal selfs so they are weird tf out by that demonstration of affection coming from them is satisfying, fills the hole inside of me fr

[angelicwolf98]

They’re finally free!!! 😄 And I just LOVE protective Morpheus! I hope we’ll see more of his protective nature in future chapters! 😁😍🥰

Chapter 12: Of Dreams and Deliverance

MASTERLIST

Summary: Plucked from her mundane life and thrust into a glass prison alongside the captured King of Dreams, Nora becomes an unlikely confidante and defiant voice in his silent torment. As a century blurs into freedom, she discovers her own impossible existence is inextricably linked to Morpheus himself, compelling them to face future challenges and rebuild his shattered realm, together.

Previous Chapter

~Alex’s Last Apology~

Several more decades passed. The monotonous routine of their lives continued, but the world outside leaped forward. It was now the 21st century. Nora and Morpheus only knew this because of the guards, no longer stoic sentinels but bored young men who loudly bragged about the newest phone that was getting released, a thin slab of glass and light that sounded like a fantasy.

A new century, Nora thought to Morpheus, the idea vast and strange. We’ve been here so long we’ve crossed into a new century.

That quiet moment was broken by the familiar, grating sound of the cellar door opening and the mechanical whir of the lift lowering.

Well, seems like Alex is visiting again, Nora thought, a sense of weary resignation settling over her.

She wasn’t ready, though, for how he looked. The man who was wheeled into the dim light was ancient, withered and bent. Over a hundred years old now, he was a decrepit thing of paper-thin skin and watery eyes, stuck to a wheelchair. A nurse in crisp scrubs pushed him, stopping just outside the rune circle.

“All this time has passed,” Alex said, his voice a reedy, wet rasp, “and you still won’t change your mind.”

Nora’s patience, worn thin over ninety years, finally snapped. She spoke, her voice clear and cold. “Change our minds? You want him to bargain for his freedom with the sniveling, craven worm who stole his life? You have lived a century, Alex, a gift of prolonged life granted by proximity to the very being you torture, and you have spent it cowering in this house. I hope that when your pathetic end finally comes, you are granted a special place in Hell, one where for eternity, you are forced to listen to every single opportunity you ever missed, every moment of joy you were too afraid to grasp, played back to you on a continuous, maddening loop.”

Alex flinched, turning his watery gaze from her to Morpheus, waiting for the silent king to say anything. As always, he did not.

Defeated, Alex lowered his head, shaking it slowly. He seemed to collect himself, raising his head one last time. “I’m sorry it had to come to this,” he rasped. “I never meant for any of this to happen. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Nora let out a short, sharp scoff, not believing a single word.

“Take me away,” Alex directed the nurse. “I won’t be coming down here again.”

The nurse, utterly unaware of the century of magical protocol, turned the wheelchair to leave. To get a better turning angle, she unknowingly wheeled one of the chair’s wheels directly over the brittle chalk line on the floor. A faint puff of dust, unnoticed by anyone, marked the break in the circle.

Nora didn’t see it, but she felt it instantly—a distinct, sudden shift in the energy radiating from Morpheus. A current, long dormant, was now flowing. She kept her gaze fixed forward, not wanting to draw any attention to him, and waited with baited breath as the lift carried Alex and the nurse away, until the heavy door sealed them once more in the gloom with the two guards.

She finally turned her head to look at Morpheus, to ask what had happened. Before she could form the thought, his voice slammed into her mind, sharp and urgent.

The circle is broken.

She inwardly gasped, completely shocked at the sudden turn of events. What does that mean? What happens now?

A plan was already taking shape behind his ancient eyes. It means I have access to a sliver of my power. Enough. His thoughts were focused, a razor point of will. I will reach the mind of one of the guards. I will make him sleep, and in his sleep, I will give him a dream of freedom. A dream of shattering glass.

The air In the sphere felt electric with possibility.

Just a little longer, he thought to her.

After so many years of unending night, Nora was filled with the blinding, brilliant relief of a possible dawn.

They only had to wait a few more hours. As the guard shift neared its end, a familiar weariness settled over the two men. Their movements became sluggish, their attention wandering. One of them, slumped in his chair, was on the verge of snoozing, the stimulants that kept him alert finally wearing off. That was the moment. Morpheus focused, his consciousness a silver thread weaving its way into the guard’s subconscious.

The dream he gave the man was one of profound, suffocating boredom. The guard dreamt he was in a gray, featureless room with no doors or windows, a representation of his own life spent watching a glass prison. He felt an overwhelming despair, a certainty that this was all there would ever be. Then, a single, beautiful object appeared in his hand: a key made of shining crystal. But there were no locks. An intense, undeniable compulsion washed over him—the key was not for a door. He had to throw it. Before him, a great, imprisoning wall of dark glass appeared, and with a scream of pure, desperate longing for release, the guard in the dream hurled the key. The resulting explosion of shattering glass was the most beautiful, liberating sight he had ever witnessed. Freedom.

Nora, sitting in silence, watched Morpheus stare intently at the drowsy guard. Suddenly, the man leaped from his chair with a shout, his eyes wide and unfocused. He fumbled for his sidearm, raised it, and began firing at the glass sphere.

The noise was deafening. Nora was already positioned slightly behind Morpheus, but at the first shot, he shifted, deliberately placing his body more fully in front of her to shield her from any ricochets or shattering glass. The other guard, now extremely alert, was shouting, trying to wrestle the gun from his partner, but it was too late. With a final, explosive crash, the thick glass of the sphere spider webbed and imploded.

At the explosion, Nora instinctively curled into a ball, putting her head between her knees and covering it with her arms. Shards of glass rained down around them. In a show of impossible elegance, Morpheus reached up, grabbed one of the now-exposed metal beams of the frame, and used it as a guide to leap out with a grace that defied his long imprisonment.

He landed silently on the stone floor. He looked back towards the wreckage at Nora, who was still huddled in a protective ball, and extended his hand out to her, beckoning her to grab it. When she looked up and saw his offered hand, she took it without hesitation. He helped her stand and move quickly out of the ruined sphere.

Standing beside him, free for the first time in ninety-six years, Nora watched as Morpheus turned to the two guards, who were frozen in shock. He raised a hand, and with a soft breath, blew a stream of fine, glittering sand into their faces. They slumped to the ground instantly, lost in a deep, dreamless sleep.

Morpheus then turned to Nora, his voice filling her head, calm and sure. Close your eyes.

She did as he asked. A sudden wind whipped through the stagnant basement air, and she could feel an intense, brilliant light even through her closed eyelids. Morpheus put an arm around her, holding her steady, and guided them both forward into the heart of a glowing, spinning blue portal that had opened in the center of the room.

Morpheus left Nora in a strange, gray, in-between place, a limbo that was neither the waking world nor his own realm. He had one last piece of business to attend to before he could truly go home: Alex Burgess.

He slipped into the sleeping mind of the old man. In his dream, Alex was a boy again, running through the grand, familiar halls of his childhood home. A black cat with eyes like distant stars appeared before him, and the boy felt an overwhelming urge to follow it. The cat led him up winding staircases until they reached a high, forgotten room in the mansion’s turret. The room was dark, with a single high-backed chair in the center. The cat leaped gracefully onto the chair, and as the boy approached, it dissolved into shadow. From the darkness on the chair, two points of light ignited, glowing like captured stars.

Morpheus’s form slowly became visible, seated on the chair, his pale face a stark contrast to the gloom. The dream-boy Alex stammered, his voice suddenly the reedy, wet rasp of the old man he truly was. “You’re free.”

Morpheus’s voice was quiet, but it began to build with a cold, ancient rage. “Free? You cannot cage dreams without consequence for the dreamer. While I was gone, my realm withered, but it is your world that paid the steeper price. An epidemic of sleeping sickness swept your globe—people who could not wake, trapped in endless nightmares, and others who could not find the mercy of sleep at all, driven mad by their exhaustion. Millions suffered because your father was arrogant, and you were weak.”

His eyes burned with starlight, his fury intensifying as his thoughts turned to Nora. “But that is a crime against humanity. Your crime against her is so much more personal. You stood by and watched your father throw a woman into that cage, her only crime being her compassion for a stranger’s suffering. And for nearly a century, you did nothing. You let her languish, trapped with a being you feared, never knowing if she would live or die. You let her hope curdle into resignation, valuing your own pathetic skin over her life. You dare speak to me of freedom after what you did to her?”

He stood, his presence seeming to suck all the air from the dream. “You wished for eternal life, Alex Burgess. But your true desire was not for life. It was for dreams. For escape.”

He reached out a hand, a pinch of sand held between his fingers. “So I shall give you what you have always truly wanted. A blessing. Eternal sleeping.” He blew the sand into the boy’s face. In the waking world, the nurse attending to the centenarian would find that her charge had passed away peacefully in his sleep. His dream had become his eternity.

With that last debt settled, Morpheus dissolved from the dream, finally returning to his kingdom.

Next Chapter

-

Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated! 🩷

[nxtaliaistyping]

Thinking about Morpheus making you ride him as punishment :(

Author’s note: oh my god the season 2 behind the scenes look has me screaming, I’m so excited. I need him back in my life.

18+ nsfw, fem reader, slight bondage

Morpheus is nothing if not an attentive lover, always putting your pleasure first. While you’re in his realm, you don’t have to lift a finger, don’t have to want for anything. He provides.

And while he spends long stretches ravaging you, of taking you apart piece by piece via his long fingers stroking your clit until you squirm and cry for him, or fingering you while your gush around his lithe digits, there’s occasionally times where he finds you…challenging.

That mouth of yours has a tendency to run rampant, undermining his authority. He is a king, a god…more than a god; an endless. And to think a bratty little mortal like you has the audacity to be in his domain, his kingdom, and demand more of his time and energy? Well, you simply need a correction. A simple reminder of your place.

So that’s why you find yourself straddling him, thighs burning as you move up and down. He looks every bit the king of dreams as he sits on his impressive throne, how high you both are allowing you to survey the room while you ride your lover to the best of your capabilities. An unseen force is keeping your hands pinned to the small of your back, not even giving you the slight relief of bracing your weight on his thighs or shoulders.

No, instead you simply have to rut against him, feeling every bit like a concubine, pleasing your ruler.

“Are you getting tired my love? That cannot be the case I’m sure, since you were so eager to have me earlier. Quite…insistent, were you not?”

You whine pitifully at his words, the ache of your limbs at the repetitive motions setting in. Morpheus doesn’t have quite the same need to cum that you do, after all you both are in the dreaming, as much a part of him as he is of it. He can withhold his orgasm for as long as needed, which seems to be long enough that you’re soaking his lap with your needy juices.

“Making a mess I see, so wanton.” He chastises, but still makes no effort to help you move.

“Please…”

“Hm?” He tilts his head, a neutral expression plastered on his regal features. “Is there something you need, dearest?”

God you just want to scream, but your outburst would most likely not help your situation, so you give him a particularly strong slam of your hips before batting your eyelashes. “Please just fuck me.”

Instead of your desired response, he simply tuts. “You misunderstand the situation. This is…correctional. Your penance if you will. After all, you were the one being especially mouthy while in my realm. So it’s only right you prove to me you’re worth the attentions of a king.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly how reminding you of his status above you makes you whine and clench your pussy around him. Your body is an instrument he is especially well versed in playing.

“Perhaps I have been too accommodating to your every whim and desire. I have created a spoilt thing it seems, so used to not putting in the work to achieve what she wants. This lesson is needed.”

Knowing no other way, you fight against your bodies’ exhaustion to ride him with vigour, rolling your hips. Pleasant hums occasionally pass his lips, the minuscule praise like a drug as you move faster on his lap.

You must get too carried away, as he gives your hip a light slap. “Now now, do not allow yourself to get carried away. Remember, it’s rhythm that is important in sexual situations such as this. Not just how fast you can move your hips on me.”

At his reprimanding, you nod your understanding and mutter a soft apology, building a rhythm that works. The sheer fact you’re riding him on his throne, in his throne room, really settles in. Anyone could walk in, heaven forbid Matthew flies in and gets the shock of his (after)life.

But you can’t deny how much it turns you on, to be dream of the endless’s favourite mortal, his favourite little pet to entertain him. It’s almost power in a strange sort of way, but it thrills you nonetheless.

Eventually, your lover’s hips start to move up in time with your thrusts, causing the breath to leave your lungs quickly. Your hands are released, and you quickly move them to his shoulders, feeling the material of his black cloak under your fingertips.

“Touch yourself. Feel the pleasure that I allow you to take.”

You don’t need to be told twice, fingers hurriedly rubbing circles on your clit as he fucks up into you with tenacity. “Please…can I cum?”

“You can do better.”

A moan rips its way from your lips before you can stop it. “Please…please my king, I need to cum. Please let me cum, I won’t talk back again, I’ll be so good…please.”

A trace of a smirk tugs on his lips, and he gives a simple nod of his head. Blue eyes trace over your trembling form as you finish all over his lap. A few thrusts later, he’s buried to the hilt inside of your weeping cunt, filling you up. He allows you to slump against him, gentle fingers moving up and down your spine to soothe you, his release warm inside of your spent pussy.

“Was that to your enjoyment?” He mumbles lowly into your ear, and you can’t help the girlish giggle you make as you nod against him. His smirk is now transformed into a soft smile, not allowing you to see this moment of vulnerability as he presses kisses to your hairline.

“Do not make such demands of me again, unless you want your next punishment to not involve climax for you at all.”

[hunny-beann]

I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3

Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.

That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.

She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.

That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.

Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

ao3 link

[dreamingofcalliope]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 𝖌𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖉 {𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊}

When a woman sets him free at the cost of her own life, Dream vows to honour her sacrifice and lay her to rest in the Dreaming, once it is restored... only things don’t quite go to plan when she reawakens unexpectedly.

Pairing: Morpheus x Reader (no y/n used)

Warnings: graphic violence, blood, angst, major character death. basically all the same nasty stuff that happened in the first episode.

A/N: not me showing up suuper late with starbucks but heeeeey gurl! yes this was jumpstarted by the old guard 2 release announcement and i have finally gotten a chapter done for all you lovely patient people! its longer than i originally planned as an apology and thanks for waiting, so lets hope the roll continues even though i have no idea where i'm going with this lol enjoy!

Gif made by me!

The first shot split the air with a crack, even amidst the sound of shouting, and the splatter of red across the glass of his prison was uncomfortably familiar to Morpheus.

His heart had not been inclined to hope for help since he had lost Jessamy, and though it still did not now, the similarity of the moment his loyal servant had been struck down was an uncomfortable weight.

The second took the woman to her knees, in a pose not unlike those who supplicated before him in the past, his subjects, in search of an audience with the King of Dreams and Nightmares, while her hand clutched at the new wound spilling red down the front of her body. Her eyes held his gaze, as it had since she’d found her way into the basement a few minutes earlier, and with the weight of resignation in his throat, Morpheus accepted he would now bear witness to another passing. 

Yet it was not shock he found in her features, surprise at a life cut short, rather she seemed… focused; on living, he supposed even as she pitched forward like a puppet whose strings had been cut, until she reached for the binding circle beneath his cage. He dared not look too long, to linger on the markings that had helped keep him prisoner all this time, even now as she reached for them, but the hope bloomed in his chest heedless of the cost of the act. 

The woman would die here, of that he held no doubt, yet that seed of hope sprouted that perhaps her sacrifice would not be completely in vain. In fact he swore it. 

If she were to set him free, he would see that sacrifice honoured.

Another shot came, he unconsciously echoed the flinch she gave but she did not falter. With her own blood coating her hand, and, he suspected, what little strength she had remaining, she swept across the markings; distorting the edges enough to destroy the power they contained. As he watched her head fall and the light die in her eyes, for the first time in over a century, his power spilled beyond the edges of his prison. 

Like a limb tight from disuse, he stretched his influence towards the guard whose gun was still raised. A push and more shots came, this time at the barrier separating them and finally it gave way, shattering under the joint pressure. 

He was free.

Once the guards were taken care of, and his jailers sufficiently punished, Morpheus approached the still form of his saviour. With gentle hands, he gathered her close and stood, escape and his promise at the forefront of his mind; he would not leave her body at the mercy of the Burgess family. A mixture of emotions, gratitude, sorrow, anger, relief, all warred inside him as he turned towards the portal that would finally carry them home.

- - - - 

“Sir! Sir!” 

The landing was harder than he expected, but he held tight to the body in his arms, cushioning the fall with his own though he knew she was beyond feeling it. Footsteps and hands reached for him, turned him and he blinked up into the familiar face of-

“It’s me. It’s Lucienne.”

“Lucienne..” the familiar smile on his librarian’s face to his weak response was comforting and he reached for Lucienne’s hand, scarcely able to believe that, after so long, he was, indeed, home. The relief and joy gave way to confusion as he watched Lucienne’s eyes take in that her Lord was not alone in his return. With her help, he managed to stand while cradling his companion and soon the gates to his realm stood tall ahead, just as he had left them. The gates responded to his familiar touch and the feeling of coming home was so strong that it threatened to drown him.

Lucienne’s warning did little to soften the blow of seeing his realm darkened… destroyed… decaying right before his eyes. He knew damage had been done to the waking world in his absence, but to know it extended here too…

His concern was not only for his realm but those who resided within it. If the Dreaming had suffered so in his absence, then what of his creations? The dreams and nightmares that were constructs of his will? The staff he had promised protection and safety to, once upon a time? But the pain of seeing the state of his realm compared little to the hurt of Lucienne revealing many had simply believed he would so readily abandon them.

Some had sought him out, yet none had succeeded; that thought drew his attention back to the woman in his arms and his devastation gave way to determination. He would fix what had been wrought in his absence and restore order to both realms, as was his duty.

“I made this realm once, Lucienne. I will make it again.”

- - - - 

His palace lay in shambles, colour having leached from its very existence, the sky above his throne dark despite the twinkling of stars and, with each account Lucienne gave, his devastation was torn all the wider. And yet, she remained, steadfast in the belief that he would return and that he had not abandoned them. Her loyalty inspired admiration and gratitude in him, a vindication of the choice he’d made long ago to take her in as a member of his staff. He made a note to reward her for her loyalty and her attempts to protect the Dreaming in his absence, even as he approached what remained of the steps to his throne. 

It was the only surface still relatively intact and not covered in debris; the only place he could lay down his saviour safely. 

“My lord…” the librarian trailed off hesitantly, as if still deciding how to phrase her question before settling and he turned in time to see her spine straighten as if to brace herself. “While I am glad to have you return to us, I cannot help noticing you have not done so alone.” The pointed look at the woman now behind him felt a little unnecessary, who else would Lucienne be referring to, but he was surprised her curiosity had been held at bay this long. Then again, they’d had other matters to discuss. 

“At the cost of her own life, this woman released me from my imprisonment,” he began. “I brought her here to honour that sacrifice. To lay her to rest under the guardianship of Fiddler’s Green. In peace…”  the dream lord trailed off, sadness and disappointment etched into the marble of his features as he glanced at the body laying atop the makeshift altar. A decaying wasteland was not the deserved resting place of one to whom he owed so much. 

Lucienne was quiet for a few moments, obviously considering this revelation before the librarian nodded solemnly. “Fiddler’s Green is no longer in the Dreaming,” she announced and he resisted the urge to flinch. One of his most loyal and beloved creations, he had not expected Fiddler’s Green’s absence but once the Dreaming was restored, he had faith they would all return. Well, those who still held some loyalty would, he concluded, his mind returning to the reason he had  left the Dreaming in the first place. The Corinthian would need to be dealt with also but the Dreaming had to come first.

With that thought in mind, he reached out with what power remained within and attempted to reshape the room in which they stood. To his dismay, it was so scant and brittle; his control shattered within moments and with the falling of debris, so too did the Dream Lord. It became painfully apparent to them both that until he had his tools, his power would not be fully restored. 

Which meant he would need to discover the fate of his tools after their theft. The Fates would know, loathe as he was to admit it. He could not restore his realm, not even this very room. He would not have the power to summon them and asking his siblings was out of the question, as he told Lucienne. His knowledgeable librarian however had an answer for his next question; a creation of his that remained whole and he stood from his perch upon the stairs. 

“Then let us go-”

The pained groan that came from behind suddenly cut off his statement, louder in the destroyed throne room for its unexpectedness, and both the King and Librarian swivelled abruptly to seek out the source. Impossibly, it came from where it should not have; the woman lying in still reverence upon the stairs.

Only… she was not still now.

- - - -

As it tended to happen when she woke, the first thing she knew was pain. 

Dying did tend to be a painful affair, so that wasn’t completely shocking. She hadn’t had a peaceful one as of yet in all honesty but that didn’t make the experience any more fun. Bullets particularly sucked because sometimes she gained awareness before they’d finished working their way out of her body, like now, and so there was little she could do except grit her teeth and wait for the burning to end. 

This one was particularly bad; it must have lodged into bone or something and despite her instincts, and knowing better, she groaned aloud as the bullet finally worked itself free of her flesh. With a deep inhale, her eyes opened to look upon… the night sky? No… those were ruins around her and for a moment she wondered if the person she’d set free had destroyed their prison as punishment; she wouldn’t have blamed them if they had. 

The crunch of glass under foot grabbed her attention and she jerked upright on instinct; unfamiliar surroundings and the vulnerability of not being alone during her reawakening caused her adrenaline to kick in sharply. She immediately reached for the knife usually stowed on her thigh before recalling she’d put the habit aside while infiltrating the Burgess estate so as not to arouse suspicion. A gardener with a knife holstered on their leg was not exactly typical.

Now she mourned the loss as she angled her body defensively towards the threat.

It took a moment for recognition to wash over her at the sight of the man she’d set free, but then he’d been naked at the time and now he wasn’t and… well she figured she could be forgiven for needing a second to reconcile the two appearances into one. At least her attempt to free him had been successful. 

His surprise was subtle, compared to that of his companion as she finally realised they weren’t alone anymore, but this one wasn’t dressed in the uniform of the guards who’d killed her. 

“You live.” 

During her spontaneous rescue attempt he hadn’t spoken a single word. Of that she was sure because her first thought upon hearing that deep, silky tone was that she would definitely have remembered hearing it, even while dying. In reality she knew nothing of this man before her, save that he’d been imprisoned, and perhaps it had been for some good reason not apparent to her, however nothing deserved to be kept in a cage as he had. 

“Yes,” she replied simply. Any hope that her resurrection may have gone unnoticed and dismissed as a simple mistake was lost in that moment so she might as well admit it. She expected the question from him but instead it came from his offsider and she glanced for a moment at them before her eyes returned to the man… being before her. 

“How?”

“Just lucky I guess,” was her glib answer even as his eyes pierced her, obviously seeking and she had never felt so studied before in her admittedly long life. He exuded a quiet power that was both seductive and terrifying, as if with the same look he coaxed her closer and warned her away and were she mortal, her body would no doubt have been torn between the two feelings. Instead she simply raised her chin, in dual defiance and daring and even having only met this man moments ago, she thought she saw a flicker of amusement in the depths of those pale eyes at her reaction. 

“You are one of the deathless.” That voice came again, flowing and suffused, she thought, with a combination of pleasure at his own cleverness and surprise at the information. 

It was a name she had not heard used in a very long time, and it momentarily jolted her back through flames and blood and chants of witchcraft, a distance overtaking her gaze that, unbeknownst to her, was not lost on her companions. 

“I’ve been called that once or twice,” she said finally, hesitantly as though she still possessed a secret to keep. “And what do they call you? Tall, dark and brooding?” It was a weak attempt at humour, at changing the subject and focus onto something not her miraculous resurrection and return to the living. 

“He is Lord Morpheus. Dream of the Endless. Lord of the Dreaming. King of Dreams and Nightmares,” the… well this one was probably a valet or something if he was supposed to be a king or lord or whatever, rattled off and a snort escaped her before she could stop it. 

“Let me guess. He’s also an aquarius and likes long walks on the beach?” 

They looked at her with a combination of annoyance and confusion, and she figured her joke hadn’t been appreciated. “Okay, Lord Morpheus,” with a hum, she continued, the title dripping with as much reverence as she was capable of, which wasn’t very much in all honesty. “I’m glad to see you’re out and about. I wasn’t sure if breaking that circle would be enough, magic can be fickle like that," she shrugged, glancing around at the ruins they stood within. The changing dark sky above and the light shining in the windows were her first clue this wasn't the Burgess house torn asunder, and for a moment she wondered where the Dream Lord had spirited them off to. 

Nowhere ordinary, she’d be willing to bet; an Endless kept in a cage for who knew how long, but whether this was some dream realm or a very fancy basement of his own, she wasn’t inclined to stay. Setting the Dream Lord loose hadn’t been on her agenda and the reason she infiltrated the Burgess mansion still remained. “But you’re as good as new and I have places to be so, if you’ll excuse me,” she sidestepped the dark figure and was greeted by even more ruins

“You can’t leave.” The valet spoke again and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“I really-”

“I owe you a debt.” Morpheus spoke, cutting off her response and it felt final, absolute, as if it explained why she couldn’t go and really there would no doubt be benefits to having one of the Endless owe her, but that also felt like it would come with a lot of problems and attention she was disinclined to invite into her life as it currently stood.

“It's ok really. Consider it my act of charity for the year. We’re square. Now if you could just show me out, I’ll be on my way.”

“You cannot leave.”

- - - -

Tag list (if I missed anyone apologies, it's been a while);

@ladymoon666 @carrietrekkie @forwheat-is-wheat @intothesoul @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @adishax @minicoop12 @solinarimoon @guilteapleasures

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Morpheus: How many times must I confess my love to you?

Reader who chronically forgets every dream after they wake up: Your WHAT?!