#Sandman Fanfic

[seiya-starsniper]

now, and forevermore (Morphienne, AO3)

Rating: General | Status: Complete | Chapters 1/1 | Words: 2.3K

Tags: Love Confessions, Declarations Of Love, Soft Dream of the Endless, Fluff and Angst, but only a little bit of angst, Promises

Summary:

The first thing she notices is the smell of flowers, fragrant and sweet. The second, is that she is no longer indoors within the castle, but outside in a small courtyard that is also new to her. Though it had been nighttime within the castle, here in this mystery garden, the sun is still setting, casting a soft red and orange hue across the grass and the fauna that surround the perimeter. Lucienne finds her eyes drawn towards the center, where a large arch trellis sits above a wooden bench. The archway is wrapped in ivy interspersed with roses and jasmine, all in full bloom and bursting with life. Sitting on the wooden bench, of course, is the lord of dreams. --- Or, Lucienne and Dream finally have a long overdue conversation.

Written for the National Librarian Day event run by the @mr-sadman server!

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Don't Stop (Sandman One-Shot)

​GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

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

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

Word Count: 1.7k

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

Sandman Masterlist

-------------------------------------------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not at present."

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

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

Morpheus calls to his friend.

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

"I suggest you do the same, sir."

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

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

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

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

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

Desire.

They are present, filling you with neediness and longing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You register this in his stance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"May I have the honour of tasting you?"

"Yes," you consent, breathless already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Morpheus?! What are you -"

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

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

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

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

You nod.

"Verbal consent, please."

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

You gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @herfantasyworldd @shadowqueen1318

[the-centennial-husbands-bigbang]

We are happy to introduce you all to the Centennial Husbands' Big Bang!

We wish you a warm welcome to the Centennial Husbands Big Bang!

This is a Big Bang challenge focused around all things Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) from the Sandman comics and show, brought to you by the @mr-sadman Modteam!

Without further adue, here are all of the details!!

Our stance on plagiarism and AI 

We do not accept nor condone the use of plagiarism, including the use of AI, whether in writing or art. If you are caught using either, you will be disqualified from the current event and barred entry for the other events the Mr. Sadman team puts forward.

General Rules and Informations

Anyone is welcome to participate! 

Fear you can’t make it yet? Sign-ups for pinch-hitters will be open later during the event!

You can sign up both as an artist and a writer!! That said, we do not want you to bite more than you can chew, be careful and conscious of the event’s schedule!

Joining the Mr. Sadman discord is strongly advised, as there will be event related channels and roles available, but not required. Please make sure to give us another reliable and quick way to get a hold of you in the case that you don’t join the server/don’t use discord often!

If you are under the age of 18, you will not be able to create explicit content for the event. As a general rule, Mr. Sadman is a 16+ server, be aware of this fact!

The Mr. Sadman Modteam is a firm believer of “ship and let ship” as well as the kinktomato (https://fanlore.org/wiki/Kinktomato). As such, and in accordance with the Server’s existing rules, we will not tolerate any discrimination and harassment in any forms whatsoever. This includes : queerphobia, homophobia, racism, content policing, hate speech, doxxing, shaming, etc. 

What’s a Big Bang?

What’s a Big Bang?

Glad you asked! This is a challenge where writers come up with a 15k+ words fic and get paired with a just-as-enthusiastic artist that accompanies their written work with a piece of art! A detailed schedule spanning around 4 months will be available down this post, fear not! 

15k is a lot of words, is there any other way that, as a writer, I can participate?

There is! We are offering a beta-reader partnering system as well as a Mini Bang!

What’s a Mini Bang?

This is a challenge similar to a Big Bang where you write a piece under 15k words! Do note that the Mini Bang does not come with art like the Big Bang does!

Why does the Mini Bang don’t include art?

This is the less stressful option for writers who still want to participate in the event! Less stress for the writers and none for the artists! That said, this might be revised if an important number of artists sign up!

I don’t think my Big Bang fic is gonna reach 15k, can I downgrade to the Mini Bang?

Yes! You will be able to downgrade until December 2nd, a few weeks before drafts are due and artist pairing starts!

I think my Mini Bang fic is gonna be longer than 15k, can I upgrade to the Big Bang?

Yes! You will be able to upgrade until December 2nd, a few weeks before drafts are due and artist pairing starts!

Rules and requirements

For Writers

What are the requirements for my fic? 

Your fic must be an unpublished, completely new work! It needs to be able to stand on its own (meaning that sequels and crossovers/fusions are allowed, but your fic must be able to be read on its own!) and must meet the minimum word count requirement, which is  15k words. It is also strongly recommended for no parts of your work to have been already published elsewhere (even small snippets)!

It is also mandatory that you keep your work a secret - this is to assure an anonymous art claim process and is very important. If you talk about your work in any public way (this includes our discord server), your violation will be discussed amongst the mod team and could result in potential removal from the event!

Does it have to focus on a romantic pairing?

Not at all! Your fic can be platonic, romantic, neither or all of the above, as long as it focuses on the relationship between Dream and Hob!

Does my fic have to be beta-read?

While it is not mandatory, we strongly encourage you to use a beta reader during your writing process! Don’t have a beta reader already? We offer a beta-reader pairing system! Just make sure to fill in the appropriate section in the sign-up form to indicate that you are in need of betaing!

My friend and I want to co-author a fic, is that alright?

Hell yeah! We love collaboration! Simply make sure to indicate it on each of your sign-up forms (meaning that each one of you needs to fill a form)!! The word count requirement is still 15k (even if you are one, two, three or more, yes!) and keep in mind, though, that you will not receive more art because there are more authors!

Can I have a secondary pairing in my fic?

Yes! As long as the focus of your fic is Dream/Hob, go ham!

Can I write threesomes, foursomes, polycules?

Yes! As long as the focus of your fic is Dream/Hob, please do!!

Can I write RPF (Tom Sturridge/Ferdinand Kingsley)?

Yes! 

What can’t I write, then?

Anything is fair game as long as it is properly tagged and/or warned for! Major content warnings (such as AO3 dictates) must also be applied properly! There is only one exception to this : work depicting real life children (such as the actors’), which is not allowed.

What if I have a fic that I’ve been working on but never posted?

You can totally use it! As long as your work remains unpublished, it’s fair game!

Can I write something for NaNoWriMo and use it as my submission?

Hell yeah!! As long as it’s unpublished and meets the word requirements!!

I’m so excited for this event that I want to write two fics, is that all right?

We never say no to more cake! Please do keep in mind that you’ll still have to respect the schedule for both works at the same time!

As the author, do I have a say in what my paired artist creates?

In short : no. While we do encourage collaboration, this is not a commission process. The artist has free reign on what they want to create that is inspired by your fic. If you can write what you want, then your artist can create what they want!

Can I already pair up with an artist friend?

Absolutely! Just make sure you tell us in the sign up form!

I don’t like my paired artist and/or what my artist has created.

While this is unfortunate, your artist has spent their own energy and free time to create their piece. To dismiss them and their efforts is plain rude. The mods will not step in and give you another artist simply because you are not pleased with your match. Your artist deserves your thanks, not your ire. 

What are authors check-ins?

Be not afraid! These are mostly touch points for the modteam to make sure everyone is still on board and on schedule! That said, these are mandatory! Failure to respond to check-ins will disqualify you from participating in the current event.

What if I can’t meet a deadline?

Please make sure to inform a mod as soon as you know! Accommodations might be worked out depending on the situation. We simply ask you to be considerate to your fellow artists, it is unfair to them to back out as they had already started working on their pieces!

Where do I post my fic?

We ask you to post your story to the AO3 collection! You are free, after that, to post it anywhere else you’d like and/or prefer! There, you will also be able to embed and link to your artist’s piece(s)!

For Artists

What kind of art can I make?

Anything from traditional or digital drawing, to photomanips, fanvids, podfics, songwriting, book binding and more! We only ask you to put some effort into it, after all, your author has worked hard on their piece as well! 

A few exceptions include : playlists, icons and banners. These, while being a nice and fun bonus for your author, can’t be counted as your primary piece!

How much art do I have to make? 

You are required to make one piece of art! But if you are inspired, more are definitely welcome!

What are the minimum requirements for my art?

A minimum of 500px by 500px piece for visual pieces. A minimum of 2 minutes for digital pieces. 

*If your art doesn’t fit within these parameters, an agreement can be reached between mod, author and artist as to what could be considered equivalent/sufficient. 

How will I be able to claim a fic?

Art claims will be held from January 6th to 10th to give authors the time to complete a first draft as well as send in a summary of their work. We ask you to be readily available to answer messages during that time period as the process will be held on a “first come first served” basis. You will receive a link to the claiming form at the beginning of this period. 

Can I already pair up with a writer friend?

Absolutely! Just make sure to tell us in the signing up form!

How do I get in touch with my writer?

Fear not, the mods will place you in contact with your partner once pairing is done!

What are artists’ check-ins?

Be not afraid! These are mostly touch points for the modteam to make sure everyone is still on board and on schedule! That said, these are mandatory! Failure to respond to check-ins will disqualify you from participating in the current event.

What if I can’t meet a deadline?

Please make sure to inform a mod as soon as you know! Accommodations might be worked out depending on the situation. We simply ask you to be considerate to your fellow writers, it is unfair to them to back out as they had already started working on their pieces!

Where do I post my art?

From your designated host (whether that’s tumblr, pillowfort, etc.) so that it can be embedded into AO3! We simply ask you to use the relevant tags and link back to your writer’s story!

I’m not a writer nor an artist, but I wish to help. What can I do?

You are very welcome to join us as a beta reader! Every author has different betaing needs, but betaing ranges from cheering your author on, to making sure their grammar and spelling is tip-top! This is an event-long commitment, so make sure you know this before signing up! You are also very welcome to share any relevant information about the Big Bang and join us on Mr. Sadman for all things Sandman!!

Event Schedule

Sign-ups : September 18th to October 21rst First Check-in : October 28th Second Check-in : November 18th Upgrade/Downgrade for Mini Bang/Big Bang : December 2nd Third Check-in/First Draft+Summary due : December 22nd Holiday Pause : December 23rd to January 3rd Art claims : January 6th-10th Art Pairings Masterpost : January 11th Pinch-hitter Signups : January 29th to February 2nd Fourth Check-in : February 3rd  Pinch-hitter post : February 4th Final draft : February 25th Posting dates : March 1rst to 3rd

I want to Sign Up!!

You can fill the form and sign up here : https://forms.gle/2RwZrPNxs4Y95oLS9

I need help, how do I reach a mod?

If there is something that is not covered by our rules masterpost and/or FAQ, you are very free to DM us here, on tumblr!

We are also available on email at mrsadmandiscord@gmail.com and on discord at Mr. Sadman

That said, the dedicated mods for this event are Winter, Aria, Ches and Britt!

Have fun and keep the Dreamling on!!

[aetheltrythh]

The first known Dreamling fic

Yesterday, I came across this Dreamling fic: All Hearts, Which I By Lacking.

Very special - it was written in 2003.

It's amazing how it foreshadows some of the common themes of the post-Netflix fics. Yet, it's also very different. Which makes sense because both Dream and Hob are different in the comics, so this is a good window into how people perceived them before the show. I will never be sure how I would see them because I only read the comics after the show :-(.

It's just that even though the fic is beautiful, the ending is very sad for me. F*ck, I am still sad today.

P.S. If anyone knows of an even earlier fic, feel free to share it.

[zzoomacroom]

Hey guys, soooo I have never written fanfiction in my life, but this just fell out of my brain for some reason. I don't know what came over me, but here's a little crackfic drabble for ya. Just a thousand words of Matthew being a complete idiot. Enjoy! (Yes, I know this premise has been done to death, but I'm having fun so shhhh)

Edit: now on ao3!

.......

So there Matthew was, just minding his own business, catching up with Merv in the gardens outside the palace, when a goddamned nuclear bomb went off.

"JEEZUS FUCK!" Mervyn bellowed, his cigarette dropping from his open mouth and into the pile of leaves he'd been raking. Matthew squawked and catapulted himself ungracefully to the top of the nearest tree.

Oh, so not a bomb then, thought Matthew as he watched the stunning display of fireworks that had erupted above the palace, gold and crimson embers now drifting lazily towards the ground. Still, what the hell was that all about? He would have to ask the boss--if there was some kind of celebration happening in the Dreaming, he wanted to join the party! Hopefully he'd be off his feathery tits on dream champagne before the day was over.

Matthew launched himself from the tree branch, ears still ringing as he made his way up to the palace. He soared through an open window to the throne room. Hmm, empty. So where was the party? He made his way to the library--Lucienne would know what was up.

"Heya, Loosh," he called as he circled down to the table where Lucienne was occupied with cleaning up a puddle of ink that was spilled all over the yellowed scroll she had been writing on. "What was up with the fireworks?"

"Hmm?" she glanced over to him, preoccupied. "Ah. That sometimes happens when...actually, it's probably better if you don't know. For your own sake," she adds pointedly, peering over her glasses at him.

Uh, wow. Ouch. "What? Aw, come on, don't leave me out of the loop. Ravens aren't invited to the party? Wait, why aren't you at the party?"

Lucienne stared at the raven, confusion and irritation mingling on her face. "What party? Lord Morpheus is in his private chambers, there is no--"

But Matthew was already hopping off the table and flying towards the nearest window. So it was a private, VIP kinda thing, then. He was a little hurt that he wasn't invited, but no matter. He would slip in and infiltrate the event, just in case the boss needed protecting from a disgruntled fae or something. And if he managed to dip his beak into some unattended booze, he felt he was sneaky enough that no one would be the wiser.

"You really don't want to know!" Lucienne called out exasperatedly as he flitted away, not looking up from her work. "Don’t say I didn't warn you!"

Yeah, yeah, he'd been to parties full of snooty elites before. Whatever weird shit they were into couldn't be any worse than what he'd seen during his recent trip to Hell. He circled upwards towards the highest tower and perched on the balcony outside the boss's private chamber. There was definitely something happening in there, judging by the noises coming from inside. It sounded like things were getting crazy--a shout, glass breaking, a thud like a body hitting the ground, a screech that may or may not have been human. Shit, the boss man might be in trouble! Good thing Matthew was here to...well, he wasn't really sure how he could help, but he'd figure something out. And he just really, really wanted to know what was going on! Curiosity may kill the cat, but the raven should be fine, right?

He darted into the darkened room and blinked as his eyes adjusted. Oh. No party, then. The boss was standing in the middle of the room, looking even more like he'd just sucked on a lemon than usual. His robe flicked around him and drooped off one shoulder, like he'd just hastily pulled it on (was that...a tentacle peeking out from under the hem?). And was he sweating? He didn't normally sweat, did he? And hold on--did he have cat ears?? Matthew stared, and just as he noticed the ears they receded down into his disheveled mop of hair and disappeared.

"What is it, Matthew?" the Dreamlord demanded icily.

"Uh...sorry to interrupt whatever...this...is, but I thought maybe you were in trouble. And I was just wondering what was up with the fireworks. Scared the bejeesus outta me and Merv," Matthew explained.

The boss looked confused for a moment before answering. "Ah. My apologies for the disruption," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm even as Matthew failed to get the hint. "The matter has been handled. You need not come to my defense."

At that, a poorly-stifled chuckle sounded from behind a marble pillar. "Sorry," the pillar mumbled sheepishly. The boss shot a withering glare at it and the pillar instantly dissolved into a pile of sand, revealing...

Ohhhh. "Um...hi, Hob," Matthew said with an awkward wave of his wing, wishing very much that he could dissolve into sand right about now. Hell, that may very well be his fate soon enough, based on the way the boss was glaring at him.

"Hey Matt," Hob replied with a bashful smirk. He was mostly naked except for an Elizabethan ruff, white knee-high stockings and a pair of 18th century shoes with little bows on them. And he was wearing the boss's helm. But not on his head (cool, cool, not like Matthew had followed the boss to Hell to get it back or anything). Oh, and he also had cat ears. Wonderful.

"Ya know, I better get going, I think Merv may need some help with--oh, yep, he set the garden on fire." Matthew peered out the window down to where Mervyn was currently shouting at no one and flailing around a steadily growing conflagration. "So I should go deal with that. Just wanted to check in, glad everything's good here. Uhhh nice to see you Hob, Boss. Not that I, uh, saw anything. Okay bye!" Matthew zoomed out the window before either of them could say anything else. God, he really needed a drink now.

.......

Morpheus continued to glare at the spot where Matthew had been perched as Hob came up and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Right. So where were we?" asked Hob, apparently unphased by the whole incident.

"I think we should take this to the Waking if we wish to avoid any further interruptions," Dream replied through gritted teeth.

Hob chuckled and started to massage the knots out of his lover's shoulders. "Yeah, probably. Kids, right?" he sighed.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow at him. "Matthew is not my child."

"Isn't he, though?" Hob replied with a grin, peering over Dream's shoulder to watch Matthew and Mervyn frantically darting around the flaming pile of leaves, making no progress whatsoever in putting out the blaze. Morpheus merely sighed in exasperation.

[karalynlovescake]

THE CENTENNIAL HUSBANDS 2024 BIG BANG IS LIVE!

You can read my fic on Ao3 - Entropy and Optimism, rated T, 56k words, complete at 13 chapters.

Hob Gadling is offered immortality by Death in 1389 and he meets with her every 100 years. In his dreams, he befriends and grows close with a man who he knows is Death's brother, but who never gave Hob his name. After a disaster in the late 1700's ties him even closer to Death, Hob sees his Stranger less and less, and believes his choices are to blame. Meanwhile, exhausted by seeing Death everywhere he goes and heartsick over losing his relationship with her brother, in 1889 he tells her that while he still wishes to live, he does not want to see her again.

Hob goes over a hundred years with no word from either of them, until one day two women with two talking ravens show up and tell him that his friend desperately needs his help. He embarks on the quest, hoping to once again see his mysterious Stranger, who he learns must be the King of Dreams. But when he arrives in the Dreaming he finds two people he has never met ruling, his friend asleep as if under a spell, and the kingdom falling apart around them, with the legions of Hell trying to invade.

And check out the art from my amazing artist Koresephone !!!

@koresephone66

The plot for this story started out as the plot of the novel Paladin of Souls by Lois McMaster Bujold, which is one of my favorite novels ever written. I consider it to be an absolute masterpiece of writing and plot weaving. It won a Hugo, a Nebula AND a Locus award for a REASON, and Ms Bujold is a far better writer than I am.

I had to change a lot of stuff to make the plot fit the setting and characters. So much stuff that I debated is it really even the same story anymore? Apparently very few people in the active fandom are familiar with the Bujold novel, which meant no one would see exactly what I was trying to do.

But it also meant that there was no one out there who was going to write this story if I didn't write it! This is the first novel-length story I've ever completed, and my first big bang, and honestly if you're going to borrow, borrow from the best of the best, right? I was already using Neil's characters, and I think I did a pretty good job!

I'd love to hear if you enjoy it!

[reika881]

He closed his eyes and a cloud passed over the bright circle cutting it in half, and he was there on the cloud, front row seat  to the smiling moon. A thunderstorm brewed in the distance charging the sky with soft water vapor that swirled in orderly spirals at every lazy motion of his hand. 

"thank you Selene, I shall stay here in this memory for a while, then resume my work."

[preciouslandmermaid]

|throne| - morpheus x reader

Note: All kinktober content is mature/explicit. Fics will be posted on Tumblr first, then transition over to ao3. All fics will be reader/canon-character with no use of Y/N. I will do my best to include additional warnings, but most should be self explanatory in the prompts. 

prompt: face-sitting | pairing: morpheus/f!reader | warnings: explicit sexual content.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His long, ivory fingers unlace the front of your dress with methodical care. You are here, in the Dreaming, resting upon his black sheets of an entirely too-large bed. Your palms twitch at your sides and your chest flutters like a hummingbird when Dream pins you with his eternal, heated gaze.

He says, “You are doing so well, my love.”

His touch is gentle and fleeting, peeling the thin, white dress off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor with a whisper of silk. Your thighs squeeze together beneath his appraising look. Every glance, every faint touch, burns into your skin like wildfire. He has asked you not to move, not to touch him, and you have obeyed for what feels like centuries.

Morpheus drops his lips to yours, kissing you slowly, and you feel his hum of pleasure reverberate through his chest. You arch your back, fingers clutching the sheets, and your peaked nipples scrape against the soft wool of his sweater. You gasp at the new, delicious sensation and Dream takes the opportunity of your parting lips to delve his tongue between them. He kisses you like it is the last thing he’ll ever do. His tongue strokes into your mouth with languid, playful motions, sucking your lower lip between his, and drinking in your soft mewls.

Your cunt throbs, your body writhes with longing, as he braces himself above you.

“I want to touch you.” You whine when you have a moment’s reprieve. His lips quirk into a semblance of a smile. You are in the Dreaming only until your alarm jolts you awake. You don’t want to waste any time.  

“I know.” He breathes, his hand traveling from the side of your ribcage to your hip, before he parts your legs with a single, large hand. His knuckles brush along your clit in a faint, barely-there touch and you whimper.

“There is something I want as well.” He drops the mental image—his fantasy—into your mind like a coin tossed into a wishing well. Your body prickles with heat and awareness and desire. You nod slowly in consent.

His lanky, dark body prowls over you, his hands light and tempting, before he rolls onto his back with glimmering, mischievous eyes. You nervously bite your lip, heartbeat hammering in your ears, and straddle Dream’s narrow hips.

He nudges you with his palms flat on your ass, “Higher, love.” His deep, rumbling voice causes a shiver down your spine. You shuffle forward until his head is between your thighs and you wrap your hands around the twisted, ivy-shaped iron of his headboard. You tentatively lower yourself and his breath ghosts across your sensitive skin.

“Here?” You rasp, nerves and excitement bubbling in your veins like fine champagne.

“Here.” He hums with contentment. The first touch of his tongue along your folds makes you gasp, and you jump, surprised, but Dream’s hands are on your hips and refusing to let you go. He starts slow with teasing, warm licks across your lips. You quiver above him with your hips jerking involuntarily.

You peek down at him and discover his eyes are closed, dark eyelashes kissing his pale cheeks, his wild hair like a shadow of dark feathers tickles your thighs. His hands drift from your hips to the swell of your ass, kneading and squeezing, keeping your cunt pressed against his mouth. His tongue slides into you and you both hear and feel his groan of wanton enjoyment.

Dream speaks directly into your mind; ‘I will never tire of the taste of you.’

Your eyes roll back into your head, seeing stars, and the Dreaming deepens with a rich, silver color—like moonlight. Morpheus works his mouth over your clit, sucking and laving, feasting on you with rumbles of pleasure. He holds you firmly in place as your knuckles whiten around iron-wrought leaves. Your thighs and arms tremble, shaking and pulsing with need, chasing that inevitable, brilliant release that only he can give you.

You are panting, glistening with sweat, and resisting the urge to hump into his face. His mouth draws away from you and a soft, begging “Morpheus,” slips from your lips. He does not verbally respond and nibbles along your inner thigh. Fine. If he is going to play games, then you are going to break his rules.

Selfishly, you plunge a hand between your legs, and fist a handful of his inky, soft hair. His eyes snap open and they burn with white-hot heat.

“I’ve been good.” You say with a pout. You card your fingers through his hair, stroking him like a big, predatory cat. It is such a marvel that the Lord of Dreams has such gentle, tender places. His hair, the curve of his throat, the space between his long fingers. You long to discover them all.

He hums, “You have.”

He returns to his ministrations between your legs with fervent intensity. His tongue works over you in restless, determined strokes and your spine buckles forward and you tighten your grasp in the root of his hair. The Dreaming ripples with molten, gold light and it glistens on your sweat-soaked skin. Your heart pounds, roaring in your ears, as your stomach clenches and your thighs quiver.

You come and a raw and guttural cry is ripped from your throat. Morpheus drinks in your sounds, your release, his hands pinning you to him and squeezing your buttocks. You sag, boneless, pressing your face into the cold metal of his headboard. Dream moves you with gentle, yet strong hands, guiding you to nudge your leg aside and lay on your back against the comfortable, silk sheets. You blink blearily up at him and your skin prickles at the sight of his mouth and chin shiny with your release. He strokes his fingertips along your temple to the curve of your jaw. His eternal blue eyes regard you with open affection.

He says, “Do you wish to continue?”

You nod almost drowsily, “Yes, please.”

His gaze stokes a new, hot flame inside your abdomen. This a dream you never wish to wake from.

[mr-sadman]

The Sandman TV Show celebrates its one year anniversary...

in less than a WEEK!!

Friends, time does fly really fast and we can't believe it had been almost a year already since our dear show aired for the very first time! To celebrate the occasion, the Modmin team of Mr. Sadman cordially invites you to

Sandmanniversary Weekend!

To celebrate, we offer you a whole weekend of daily prompts, fic read-alongs, games and more! This is an event to celebrate the entirety of the show that we all love and cherish so much!

Without further adue, here is our wonderful promptlist

Our lovely FAQ

You have read well, this is an all-ship, gen event to celebrate the myriad of ways we enjoy and love the Sandman!!

Do not hesitate if you have more questions, we don't bite!

TLDR : Sandmanniversary Weekend is happening from August 4th to August 6th celebrating all things Sandman TV. All mediums are encouraged, as well as all sorts of content (SFW, NSFW, Triggering, etc.). We are on tumblr, here, as well as Twitter, AO3 and Discord!! Don't forget to tag #Sandmanniversary and #Sandmanniversary2023 for us to see and reblog!

[seiya-starsniper]

For the gentle prompts: "you look so cozy" for dreamling

More birthday fills🎂 RETIRED HUMAN DREAM LET'S GOOOOOO 💖💖💖 Enjoy this soft little slice of domestic bliss anon, hope you're staying warm!

-----------------------------------------------

Hob Gadling has lived a long life. A long, rich, beautiful life, full of wondrous discoveries and terrible heartbreaks, hard lessons and thrilling adventures.

There are, Hob thinks sometimes, few experiences left in the world that are truly brand new for him. The realization does not make him want to live less, for he always finds a thrill in experiencing something familiar, just in a different way, a different decade, a different century. But he does occasionally mourn the fact that the gap between novel experiences has grown longer and longer.

When the role of Dream of the Endless is passed on, and the facet known as Morpheus is cast off and left to his own devices, he stumbles wide eyed and weary into the arms of his oldest friend. That event alone is an entirely unprecedented experience for Hob, who has never seen Morpheus as anything other than infinite and otherworldly. But in this exact moment Morpheus is mortal, and so very fragile, and Hob vows to himself that he will not let this man walk the earth alone for as long as they both lived.

Over the next few months, Hob rapidly realizes that every experience with Morpheus is something brand new, for both of them. Morpheus has never been anything other than Endless, and Hob has never had to teach anyone the basics of being human. They fumble and fight, laugh and cry, and then at some point through it all, Hob realizes he’s in love.

He has no idea how to go about confessing to his friend of 600+ years though. At least that will be a new experience for them both too.

On a cold and rainy evening, Hob returns to their shared flat after a long day of lectures. The weather outside was utterly miserable, and he was looking forward to planting himself on the couch and watching TV, while pretending to accidentally cuddle with Morpheus.

Except, Morpheus is fast asleep on said couch. And wearing Hob’s forest green fluffy robe despite very much having his own matching robe in midnight black.

Hob swallows as he takes in the sight. He wants to take out his phone and snap a photo. He wants to burrow himself in Morpheus’s side and never let him go. 

Before he can do any of these things, Morpheus stirs awake and yawns, only startling the slightest bit once he notices Hob is home. 

“Hob?” Morpheus asks. “I—I apologize, I did not mean to fall asleep here.”

“You looked so cozy I didn’t want to disturb you,” Hob replies, smiling as Morpheus rubs the sleep from his eyes and looks around. Suddenly, the other man’s face pinks, and he must realize what it is he’s wearing, for he wraps his arms around himself, as if that will somehow hide the fact that he’s wearing Hob’s robe.

Hob snorts and then nudges Morpheus’s feet with his knees. The raven-haired man brings in his knees, and Hob flops unceremoniously onto the couch, patting his lap to indicate that his friend could place his feet there. Morpheus does so easily, and Hob tries not to yelp when he realizes just how freezing cold Morpheus’s feet are. 

“Green’s a good color on your,” Hob says, placing his hands on Morpheus’s ankles and rubbing small circles to warm them up. He grins, and Morpheus huffs, his blush even more pronounced now that the subject is out in the open.

“Yours was more convenient to locate than mine,” Morpheus replies, still not meeting his gaze. Hob knows that’s utter shit, they hang their robes next to one another over hooks on the bathroom door. But he hums and accepts the flimsy excuse, before he grabs the remote off the side table and turns on the TV.

They watch a silly movie for the next few hours, and settle into easy conversation, Morpheus asking clarifying questions on pop culture references he still doesn’t quite grasp, and Hob explaining some of the minutiae of human chores when they’re mentioned in casual dialogue. 

They order take-away eventually, eating peacefully on Hob’s couch, and then the next thing he knows, Hob is waking up with a serious crick in his neck, the TV long turned off due its power saving feature, and with Morpheus curled into his side. Hob jostles the other man lightly, laughing when Morpheus groans in obvious displeasure at having been disturbed.

“Wake up sleepyhead it’s time for bed,” Hob whispers to his friend. 

Morpheus blinks up at him, still half asleep and Hob can’t help but lean in close, like he’s ready to tell his friend a secret.

But then Morpheus leans his head up, and their lips brush in an accidental kiss. 

Hob freezes, unsure of what to do. His eyes are wide open but Morpheus’s are shut. The other man lets out a pleased hum at first, and then a moment later they snap open as Morpheus belatedly realizes exactly what he’s done. He pulls away and Hob—

Hob leans down and kisses his friend of 600 years on purpose. 

Morpheus  kisses him back.

Hob sighs happily into the kiss, and Morpheus wraps an arm around his neck, pulling him down onto the other side of the couch. Hob goes easily, carefully placing his body atop his oldest friend’s, all the while refusing to let go of his mouth. Morpheus tastes like starlight, even though Hob knows that shouldn’t be possible. He’s mortal now, or at least as mortal as Hob is, which is to say, not very. But he’s no longer Endless so nothing about him should feel so otherworldly. 

But maybe Hob’s just projecting. Maybe he really is that far gone for this man. 

“You desire me,” Morpheus whispers, his voice tinged with awe when they take a short break from kissing.

“I do,” Hob answers. “Have for a little while now,” he admits. 

Morpheus’s brow furrows.“But…you didn’t before—”

Hob shushes him gently.

“We didn’t spend time like this before,” Hob whispers, pressing his forehead to Morpheus’s. “You were never this accessible before you were human. I’ve always found you beautiful, even before, but it was always look, don’t touch.”

Morpheus nods in understanding. There was never a chance for the idea of them before, not when Morpheus was still Dream, and Dream of the Endless carried the weight of the entire unconscious universe on his shoulders. Not when he held so much baggage he knew Hob could not help him carry. 

“But now?” Morpheus breathes, his voice so hopeful, so longing, so human, it nearly breaks Hob’s heart with how much he loves him.   

“But now,” Hob replies, touching his hand to Morpheus’s check, admiring the way the other man’s eyes flutter shut in pleasure. “Now we have all the time in the world to love each other, if you’d like.”

“I would—like that,” Morpheus says, opening his eyes once more. “It will be new for me, to love as a human.”

Hob smiles, and presses a kiss to the corner of Morpheus’s mouth. 

“It’ll be new for me too,” he replies, grinning against his friend turned lover’s mouth. “Everything is new and beautiful with you.”

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

​GIF: Originally posted by @tavners

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

Fate.

A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.

Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.

The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.

For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.

For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.

Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.

But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.

It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.

Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.

Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.

What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?

It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.

Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.

Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.

The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.

The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.

With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.

The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.

"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"

He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.

There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.

The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.

He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.

Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.

This foray into the water may be fruitless.

You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.

Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.

He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.

"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.

The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.

At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.

Then there is a pull.

It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.

You are alive, and you are dreaming.

A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.

Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.

As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.

He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.

A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.

You stand by said window, head turned from him.

Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.

You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.

The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.

What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?

There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.

Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.

The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.

It clicks into place.

What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.

Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.

You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.

You see him.

The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.

Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.

You disappear.

-------------------------------------

Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.

Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.

Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.

Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.

All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.

He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.

It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.

Would his triumph drive them to distraction?

It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.

He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.

Tears pool in his eyes.

His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.

"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.

He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.

He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.

It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.

Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.

Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.

Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.

You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.

Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.

He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.

The Fates were making it transparent.

You were the one.

Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.

He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.

Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.

Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.

Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -

Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.

Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."

He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.

When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.

It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.

It has done the opposite.

His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.

He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.

He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.

He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.

For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.

An erotic idea enters his mind.

Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.

Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.

To give you a taste of what was to come.

A gift that only he could bestow.

The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.

"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."

He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.

-------------------------------------

It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.

The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.

The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.

It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.

Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.

He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.

He doesn't even try to fight it.

The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.

It is surprisingly liberating.

He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.

All he has to do is wait.

The door to the building is pushed open.

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd

"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."

[aetheltrythh]

You Drive Me Mad, Hob Gadling

7.2k words, Dreamling, Mature (but only slightly :P), Established relationship, Dream's POV, Competence kink, Banter, Teasing, Fluff, Winter hike, Snowshoeing, Light Angst, No car sex - surprisingly, Marriage proposal

My piece for @designtheendless' contest. It is the inevitable fic for that topic. Someone had to :-). You are welcome to the cheesy title too :D. Read it on AO3.

Summary:

On their winter getaway, Dream and Hob have their transportation differences, starting with opinions on snowshoes, and continuing with cars. What could possibly go right? Little does Dream know that he can enjoy confined spaces of glass and steel, that he'll gain a new goth accessory, and that he's doomed by the narrative to be proposed to in the least spectacular way possible (sweet nonetheless).

Excerpt:

"Hob. Stop the car. Please."

Hob shoots him a concerned look. "Right now?"

"At your earliest convenience."

"Okay, hold on a sec. I'll pull over as soon as I can. You can't get motion sickness, can you?"

"No. You need not worry."

Within a minute, Hob stops where the road is wide enough at what appears to be a lookout point. Maybe Dream will admire the scenery a bit later.

As he pulls the handbrake, Hob asks, "So what's going—"

Dream launches himself from his seat across the centre console (or maybe he moved through the Dreaming) and lands in Hob's lap, silencing him with a kiss. His lover tastes after tea and biscuits, soothingly familiar, and when he has to resurface for air, Dream purrs, "Nothing is going on. Only that you, Hob Gadling, are driving me mad."

Fumbling with the key behind Dream's back, Hob manages to turn off the engine. "You're a menace, dove. This the true reason you were avoiding cars? Mortally attracted to whoever's driving?"

"No."

Dream locks his lips against Hob's again, fingers going through his hair, and wriggles in his lap until he can feel Hob's growing interest and hear his heartbeat quickening.

"Whoa, if you keep this on, it might lead to some public indecency. Unless you get back in your seat and I'll just hide my head in between your pretty legs—" Dream just grinds against him with a wicked smile. "—Nnnghh—"

"That will not be necessary, lover. I am satisfied now—"

With one hand on his back and the other on Dream’s thigh, Hob rocks his hips upwards and groans, "Well that was fast."

"—that you will have to suffer for the rest of the way just as I do."

[just-some-random-blogger]

A Goth & An Emo Walk Into a Room

Dream of the Endless x Wayne!Reader, Bruce Wayne & Sister!Reader

Summary: "He's literally an anthropomorphic personification of dreams," Bruce says, making me roll my eyes. I place my hands on my hips as he continues, "the attraction you feel to him is just-" "It's literally just a coffee date!"

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, overprotective older brother!Bruce, THERE IS NO INCEST IN THIS FIC I WILL CHOP YOUR FINGERS OFF, i said this would be short idk why i did this to myself, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: i'm in a goth/emo bf brain rot and i thought of this last night so i had to write it. ALSO I WANNA SAY I HAVE 3 REQUESTS PENDING BUT DW I WILL GET BACK TO YOU MKAY I LOVE YOU Part 2 ig??? "Vengeance & Nightmares"

Alfred stops what he is doing and heads for the entrance the moment he hears the doorbell buzz. The moment he opens the door, one thing is very apparent to him.

"Lord Morpheus," the old butler with white hair greets, nodding.

Alfred takes in his attire, the long trench coat that reaches his ankles and the shiny, black, heeled, leather dress shoes that were barely visible because of it. He takes in his dark hair, wild and unkempt, the darkness of his water line that makes his blue eyes more teary than it already is. He takes in his black leather pants and black cotton shirt, and its stark contrast to the bouquet of wildflowers and peonies in his grip.

He was exactly like his master Bruce.

"Alfred," the King of Dreams regards with his deep voice that vibrates in the butler's thorax.

The said man sidesteps and motions, "the young masters have been despairing over the dress that our dearest-"

"DREAM!" I call from the top of the curved staircase. I grin breathlessly as I tighten my grip on my silken robe and run down the steps and rush towards them.

I release a breath as I make my way between Alfred and my date, eyes falling to the flowers in his grips.

"Are those for me?" I ask, painted lips curving in endearment.

"They are indeed," Dream's stoic face barely softens as he hands me the flora.

I release a chuckle and accept them gratefully, "you've been taking my pointers to heart, it seems."

"I have," he responds, lips curving, though not nearly as much as mine.

I inhale deeply the fragrance of my flowers before releasing a chuckle, "well they're beautiful, Dream. Thank you."

"You are welcome."

"Might I suggest that the lord wait for his date in the parlour while I prepare him some tea?" Alfred says, turning from me to Dream.

I release a huff and pull the flowers away from me, "I swear I was nearly ready but then Bruce ripped my dress, and I tackled him, and because of that I had to redo my makeup, but then he became five and hid my highlighter, then I heard the door, and I had to make sure to got here before-"

"It is quite alright," Dream mutters airily, brows knit slightly, "I do not think waiting for you to finish dressing will wear my patience at all."

I chuckle, pursing my lips in a soft smile, "still. I did say 12 o'clock."

He shakes his head, "Cast away your worries. I will wait as long as necessary."

"I will wait as long as necessary," Bruce echoes when I make it back into my room.

I roll my eyes at him and shove him, "stop being insufferable, you sewer rat."

Bruce raises his brows as he reels back at my violence, "you look like a sewer rat."

"Oh, thank you," I coo, going to my walk in closet, "I really tried my best," make my way behind the folding screen, "but you make it look effortless, babe."

Bruce scoffs as he plops on the bed, lying down on the cushion, "you've clearly never seen a rat, nor a sewer, seeing how disconnected you are with reality from the view up on your high horse."

I release a long string of chuckles, "what do you mean? I'm literally related to a sewer rat; how could I not know its filth?"

Just as Bruce props on his elbows, I changed into my backup dress and throw my robe at him.

He pulls the fabric blocking his vision and watches me as I make my way to my vanity and press two pumps of perfume on both sides of my neck.

He examines the green dress on my body, snorting at the drop back and the slit, "if he so much as even breathes the wrong way around you-"

"Bruce," I roll my eyes.

"I'm serious," he blurts, quick to stand on his feet, "I don't care what he is, I will destroy him."

I press my lips into a thin line and look up at his darkened expression. I smooth the fabric on his shoulders then pat his cheek, "okay, Batman."

Bruce is hot on my trail as I head out and make my way down to the parlour, putting on my pumps along the way.

"He's literally an anthropomorphic personification of dreams," Bruce says, making me roll my eyes. I place my hands on my hips as he continues, "the attraction you feel to him is just-"

"It's literally just a coffee date!" I quip, grabbing onto his arm as I struggle putting on my shoes.

Bruce catches me, knitting his brows, "tell him that," he is exasperated when he adds, "the man literally proposed to you when you met."

"He's a literal endless being; our mortal concepts are merely quaint suggestions for him," I say, suddenly thinking, "do I have lipstick on my teeth?"

He makes a face as I bare my teeth at him, "no, just spinach from last night."

"Ha," I pull away from him, "you honestly think between the two of us, you have better dental care?" I walk away again, "your front two teeth are literally fake."

"Your whole personality is fake," he quips, walking by my side.

I scoff, "come on," I take his arm once we make our way down the stairs, "your elderly is showing. Your roasts are getting so lame."

"That's because hang around you all day."

"Pssh."

"Or should I say I worry about how you constantly insist on getting yourself into exceptionally venturesome situations," Bruce turns down to me with a hard look.

"I'm literally the best thing in your life, don't even," I snort, I shoot him a similar look, "you'd literally be twice as lame without me. And that's apart from the fact you'd have turned the entire estate into a cave of darkness."

"Hmm, as opposed all your rackety house parties?" He sighs, "sounds like bliss to me."

Once we are two steps away from reaching the floor, I shove Bruce off me. Of course, he does not fall and lands on his feet with a jump, then shoots a look of daggers at me.

I faux gasp and place a hand over my lips, "oops, sorry chummy."

I push back my hair as I make my way to my date.

The moment he feels my presence, Dream turns to me and rises from his seat. He meets me halfway as I walk over to him. Once I am in front of him, I raise my hands and tilt my head, "so, what do you think? Good enough?"

He holds his hand out for me and I take it, "you put all others to shame with your radiance."

I cannot withhold my giggle as he kisses the back of my hand.

Dream pulls away when he hears the annoying cough behind me.

I huff as I hear my brother speak, "Dream."

Bruce makes his way to my side as Dream nods, "Bruce."

"Take care of my baby sister," he says dryly.

I roll my eyes at him, "I'm literally 2 years younger than you."

"That already goes without saying, but I assure you," Dream turns to me, "she will be under my constant protection."

"And can you protect her from yourself?" Bruce snips.

I sigh and grab onto his stiff arms, "alright, that's enough," I push him away, "go listen to My Chemical Romance of something."

Bruce does not listen to MCR at all, and only eyes us from the corner of the room as we make it to the door.

How funny. Reminds you of anyone?

Dream is unfazed as he stands outside the open entrance, still as the wind catches his coat.

Alfred helps me wear my coat.

"I do admit, your brother's dislike is ironic," Alfred notes as he pushes my coat up my shoulders, "when they are clearly cut from the same black, brooding cloth."

"Exactly!" I chuckle, spinning to look at him, "I'm thinking it's because he wants to be the only black sheep around."

Alfred measures my words before speaking as he hums, "then it appears you must like the King of Dreams very much."

I involuntarily chuckle, feeling as though I was caught, "it's just coffee, Alfred."

He hums once more as he nods, "very well then, miss."

Dream turns to me, then to his hand that I take in mine once I am beside him.

I release a breath, "I really like holding hands when I walk with people. Will that be a problem?"

"Certainly not," Dream mutters, his relaxed hand firmly grips mine.

[zzoomacroom]

Fic: The Seeds Are Bursting, The Springs Are Seeping

Dreamling, Smut, One Shot, 2832 Words

Tagging @fleabagoftheendless and @mallory-x because y'all expressed interest with the WIP ask game. Also, credit where credit is due--this was partly inspired by several different asks sent to @gabessquishytum (some of which may or may not have been from me 🤫).

Tags and summary below the cut (very NSFW!):

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, One Shot, Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, Dream Sex, Wet Dream, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Sex Toys, Butt Plugs, Vibrators, Dildos, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Retired Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Has a Vulva, Hob Gadling is Good at Cunnilingus, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Loves Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Musings on Morphussy, Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Top Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Bottom Hob Gadling, Top Hob Gadling, Bottom Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Married Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Lazy Morning Sex, Not Beta Read

Summary:

They are both breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together, and Hob grasps Morpheus’ backside with his free hand and pulls him closer still. Morpheus reaches between them and wraps his hand around Hob’s thick, throbbing cock, stroking vigorously until Hob cries out and spills over Morpheus’ hand and onto his own stomach. His hole twitches and clenches around Morpheus, who soon reaches his own peak and floods his lover’s insides with his seed just as—

—Morpheus, formerly Dream of the Endless, awakes with a gasp. He blinks, bleary-eyed, as he finds his bearings. He is in bed beside Hob, who is still fast asleep, in their flat above the New Inn. It is early yet—6:23 AM, according to the clock on the bedside table. The morning is quiet and still; the only sounds he can hear are the gentle tapping of the rain on the windows and the steady rhythm of his husband’s breathing. He is cozy beneath the covers, their shared body heat making it perfectly toasty. It is peaceful. He is content.

Except for the fact that he just woke up in the midst of an intense orgasm and he is still unbearably aroused.

(AKA the Retired Morphussy fic, in which Retired!Dream has a wet dream and he and Hob have lazy, weekend morning sex)

Continue reading on ao3:

[writing-for-life]

Keeping Them In Character...

It’s so interesting what you wrote about fixing Morpheus in the other post, @rriavian. I didn't want to take that one too off topic, hence I made a new one. I hope this is okay, because I love talking about these things, especially with other writers (everyone who reads this, writer or not, feel free to join in). I think I’ve said this somewhere else before (can’t remember where): If we keep him in character, there is no fixing him anyway.

But fanfic wouldn’t be fanfic without those attempts, and I totally get why. I want a different ending for him, too, alas, not in canon, even if that might sound contradictory. If they touched the ending in the show, I’d honestly be pissed off, but that’s my personal problem, and Neil can do with it whatever he wants—it’s his story. So I guess every fic that sees him alive at the end starts with the premise that we have to bend him into shape ever so slightly to make it possible. To me though, there’s a world of a difference between that and basically turning him into an OC with no resemblance to Morpheus bar name and looks (not saying that isn’t fair, it’s just not for me because if I wanted that, I’d write an OC, because that’s what he would be to me).

Morpheus is not weak. I even get why some people who mainly came to the Sandman via the show might be drawn into that direction initially, because we obviously see him very low at the beginning (I’m hesitant to say “at his lowest”). But after that, he pretty much stands in his power again (with ups and down obvs)—a power that burdens him for a multitude of reasons I don’t want to go into now, otherwise I’ll still sit here tomorrow. Wrote about it a million times though.

I think the fundamental misunderstanding is that anyone can fix him. So whoever we pair up with him can only walk with him, but he’ll need to take the steps himself, and more importantly: He would need a reason to want to do that. And yes, that’s exactly what my OC tells him at some point because she suffers, and she’s done with it despite understanding him on a deep level and accepting who and what he is—I think you're right when you say there’s a tendency in fandom to turn one half of the relationship into some kind of martyr and/or “void filler” to save someone. And the tricky thing about Morpheus is: He actually is looking for something to fill a void (which, to stress that again, doesn't mean he isn't powerful, so it's not to be mistaken for general weakness). And both in The Sandman and in real life, that never leads to anything good, but I can see why it's tempting to fall into that trap because his character lends itself particularly well to that type of trope (and I even play around with that in the first part of my fic, but it was also clear to me that it won't end there).

Now, this obviously isn’t real life, a story doesn’t necessarily have to lead to something good, but the most important question, to me, was always: What would make him take said steps himself, and above all: WANT to take them? Because truly, that’s where it all falls down in canon. And there is enough scope to explore that in quite a few different ways in my view.

For me, it was always clear that it can never be through wanting to change who or what he is on a fundamental level (that’s why I’m not into retired!Dream AUs, because they would fundamentally change who he is. Again, totally fine if people want to explore that, it's just not for me). I honestly believe he would bristle at that and recoil/retreat. Because it would just add to what is at the core of his very dilemma: If you want to change who and what he is, you basically admit you don’t truly understand him (not even those closest to him truly do), and that’s part of what breaks him (I say “part”, because there are more things in the mix than one can shake a stick at). And there is a clear difference between his being capable of change (we all know he is) and wanting to change him. They are not one and the same, but sometimes, fandom treats them as if they were.

Misunderstanding him, misinterpreting him is inherent to his being: He is Dream—forever out of reach, forever nebulous and unreal and weird and prone to be misunderstood/misinterpreted unless you stop trying and just trust the process/intuition--otherwise, it wouldn’t be (a) D/dream. It truly applies to all that he is. And you see what happens when he tries to rationalise things himself: Although he understands the boundaries between dreams and reality and keeps them in place, he is UNreality, and forever will be. And the way that gets ignored in fandom sometimes baffles me. Although it also doesn’t, because of course we’re human, and we want things to be real.

Back to those steps: I personally think he would never take them for himself because he doesn’t believe he has a story, and outright centring himself as the main character who is in charge of his own story is something he will always deny himself. But I think that’s also the way in? Because if he could perceive, at least initially, that he is part of someone else’s story and that they WANT him in that story (all that he is and isn’t, including all that is broken) with full acceptance but without complete self-denial. That they don’t try to change him, because they understand what the unreal is (and that requires a very particular type of person). That he would want to try because the love he has for them weighs heavier than how little he loves himself (was it you, @stellerssong who recently also wrote something along those lines, or am I making that up?). And that by doing that, he gradually learns to see himself through someone else's eyes. And once on that path, he would maybe, just maybe, start to understand that indeed he has a story of his own, and that he might be able if not to entirely rewrite, but at least to keep on writing it from this moment onward. Like everyone who believes (because believing something is possible means trusting in it despite it not being real, and trusting in the process rather than the result. He knows the power this wields over everyone but himself--not because it’s not true for him but because he won’t allow it. But maybe he could get himself to a stage where he allows it). That it's not about fixing anything really, but growing enough around what's broken and always will be, instead of trying to make it smaller or go away.

Yes, I do believe that might be possible, although there's much more to it than I've written here because it's incredibly complex, and it requires a lot of give and take, compromise and yes, pain along the way. And maybe it might not work at all (I never really 100% know where I end up when I write because my characters always, always make those decisions for me, and despite setting out with a plan, I almost never end up where I had initially intended to go. So if you asked me today, I couldn’t promise that I truly know where my current WiP is going and who will be where at its end, and it is very frustrating at times because I’m not always happy with what these guys are doing. At the moment, I'm truly not). But I believe he would at least try if someone who allowed for those dynamics were around. And that’s why I wrote an OC, because while I can see one or two canon characters that get fairly close to what I'd envision (and none of them are one half of the bigger ships), I ultimately couldn’t do it with them because there was something in their established dynamics that threw it off for me. Unless I would have pulled at least one of them (probably both) OOC to a degree that felt too much for me. But I'm always super interested in other people's process and line of thinking.

But yeah, that’s the precarious dance between trying to keep him in character while also working towards a different ending (that's obviously far less of a problem in one-shots). If that will ever work—who knows…

[rhosyn-du]

Comyn he is of gret - Dreamling - AO3 Link

Rating: Explicit | Status: WIP | Chapters: 1/2 | Words: 10.5k (so far) Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Porn With Somewhat More Plot Than The Author Intended, Canon Divergence Purely For Porn Reasons, Bets & Wagers, Monsterfucker Hob Gadling, Light Dom/Sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Come Marking, Come Eating, Additional Tags To Be Added Summary:

"I’ve had a bounty of, ah, enthusiastic and appreciative compliments on my skills, as it happens."

"A claim I've heard more than one man make," the stranger says dismissively. "I'm uncertain there's anything men lie about more often."

"Ah, but in my case, it's simple truth." Hob grins, because it is the truth, and he damned well knows it. He might have grand aspirations and be just a bit incapable of keeping his mouth shut when he ought to, but he more than makes up for it with his skill in the bedchamber. "You don't have to take my word for it."

The stranger rolls his eyes, and it's the most human thing Hob has seen him do. "Do you plan to give me a list of your past lovers so I might consult them on the degree of your prowess in sexual matters?"

"I suppose I could," Hob says amiably. "Or, you could find out for yourself."

In 1389, Hob follows the mysterious stranger out of the White Horse, makes a number of questionable choices, and gets thoroughly railed for his trouble.