#MORPHEUS X WIFE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thoughtsfromlayla · 9 months ago

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Love and Loss

Summary: Despite being married for centuries, the two lovers have yet to produce an heir. Desperate for a child, she makes a deal with Phanes, God of Life, unbeknownst to her that motherhood has its own complications much like love and marriage. Now she must find a way to save both her child and her love.

Notes: ~11k words, only lightly edited... so yeah. Also, this is my first time posting any of my writing so I'm nervous as fuuuuck. I keep switching between past and present tense but I think I caught them all but idk. Let me know if I miss any tags or warnings! (There's so many plot holes but shhhh)

Warnings: MDNI - 18+ content, one use of Y/N but written in 3rd person, Reader has a "name" that's only used twice, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy, metaphorical use of surrogation, usage of miscarriage themes, jealousy, P in V, oral (F! receiving), unprotected sex, jealous Dream but that's to be expected really, regency-esque, diverges from cannon

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

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Despite having been in the Dreaming for so long, its frigid air was something she could never get used to. The temperature always fixed itself somewhere between an unheated house on a winter’s day and a spring day in the shade. Despite her title in the realm, she always felt like a child walking to the kitchen late at night to grab a snack whenever she meanders into the great hall.

The castle of the Dreaming was her home, and she was the owner in every right as her husband. A small black cat accompanies her, its green collar and bell jingle with each step in its preppy trot. Her Lady wore simple garments, a dark green dress with slits to match her feline friend. Its light-weight fabric billows around her with a breeze that never seems to stop and some golden jewelry decorated her neck and arms, all gifts from his Lord. She opted to walk barefoot, skin to soil, so as not to hurt her feet necessarily before the upcoming dinner the Dreaming would host later today—the idea her own entirely that her husband agreed to for her sake.

Her legs move her toward the throne room, where she is certain her husband presides. Still, her feet are cold and thus she picks up the pace. Her steps are lighthearted as she prances on her tiptoes, heels dangling from her fingers.

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories. She was sure there were more, but if she were to start listing them all in her head, she’d be stuck there all day. Morpheus was as old as humanity itself, perhaps even older. But as she sees him spread out on his throne, the air of authority is never questioned. Age has only made him more intimidating.

Morpheus commands any space he enters. His shadow fills each nook and cranny it seemed fit, aura chilling and distant. Yet he himself was a beautiful creature indeed. His modern form molded himself into a lean body, distinct muscle lines, and a strong jaw. His dark hair always looked tousled as if he had rolled out of bed a mere minute ago, and despite how often she would run her hair through the silky strands, they never behaved as they should have.

“Wife, mine,” Morpheus greets as she nears the bottom of the stairs. “What ails you to seek me out?”

The Lady smiles and gives a small curtsy before she ascends the curved stairs. “Nothing ails me, my lord. Must one have a reason to see her husband?”

Morpheus lets out an entertained breath before opening his arms in invitation. Another graceful smile appears on her lips as she sits comfortably in his lap, his arms encircling her.

“No, I suppose not,” He replies. He watches as she makes herself as comfortable as she can, leaning her head on his shoulder in a way that wouldn’t mess up her hair. The handmaidens would not stop fussing over it if a single strand was out of place from their original design.

“I simply wish to spend some time with you before our feast. I fear that I will be whisked away as I entertain guests for the evening.” She closes her eyes and steadies herself on the patterned breathing of her husband.

“I will stay by your side if you so command it,” Morpheus says. He runs his thumb in circles on her bare shoulder.

“And have everyone afraid to approach me? With your dark and brooding act?” She jests, her eyes opening briefly to look into his.

He can’t help his eyes rolling at her slight tease. “As you wish, my love.”

The two lovers sit for a moment. The sounds of her cat purring and their breaths mingling fill the air. But serenity such as this never lasts long in a castle like theirs. Lucienne comes from a hallway, presumably, the library’s, dressed up as well. Her coat was tailored to fit her body, her shoes freshly shined, and her glasses cleaned.

She gives a curt bow to the two sovereigns. “My lord, my lady,” She addresses. “The guests will be arriving soon.”

“Thank you, Lucienne,” Her lady says. She reluctantly releases herself from the warmth of her husband and uses the throne as a brace to put on her shoes. Her husband’s hand rests on the small of her back to further assist her.

“I will see you very soon, my king,” She says leaning down to peck his cheek before descending the stairs. She looks back once with another smile and then follows Lucienne to greet the arriving guests.

Morpheus’s eyes watch her figure until she turns a corner. He was still underdressed, his day previously preoccupied with trying to find a certain nightmare. He was simply idling on his throne in a simple black attire with his long coat. After all, a king need not worry about how he looks if he commands respect without golden bribes. With a wave of his hand, sand befalls him and covers him like ivy to a broken wall. When they recede he is dawning a tight button-up undershirt and vest, its fabric weaved with intrinsic cloud-like designs. His coat is now replaced with another of a similar shape and design but resembles cotton instead of the original felt. He fastens the raven cufflinks and smooths down his pants before rising from his throne and going to the Dreaming’s castle garden.

When Morpheus enters the gardens he immediately spots his wife at the entrance, standing underneath a pergola of purple wisterias and climbing hydrangeas. The flowers slowly lean towards the goddess as her presence fuels them by simple proximity. Her cat is nowhere to be seen and probably ran off into the gardens after a rodent caught his eye.

Morpheus slides up beside his wife as she greets the last of the guests arriving. He turns his head towards the decorated table and can see a great spread of gods, goddesses, fairies, nymphs, and other mystical creatures that his wife had managed to befriend—the feeling of her arm wrapping around his redirects his attention.

“Shall we, lord husband?” She gives him another one of her smiles and he understands how the hanging flowers feel. How he had ever lived without her before was still a mystery to him. To be him without her, it is like the Earth without its Sun - and he wishes to always feel the gravitational pull of her love.

Morpheus leads them towards the aggregation of guests, all of whom devote their attention to them.

“Beloved guests,” His wife starts speaking in her nectar-like tone, “Despite what is currently happening in the waking world, we are pleased that you could make time and attend this wondrous dinner.”

The goddess pauses for a brief moment as her guests clap in agreement. When they stop, she continues. “The feast is served buffet style, please eat and enjoy yourself to the fullest content. The Dreaming is here for your convenience.”

With her open palm, a long table appears with dishes of all types. Wreaths and fresh flowers decorate any empty space, which is to say, not much. Lambs, beef, and several types of poultry and fish take centerpieces along the table. Fruits, vegetables, and freshly baked bread weave in between the large plates as palate cleansers and small plates appear on the very corners of the table. A satisfied smile appeared on Her Lady’s face as the guests began grabbing food.

As the dust settles and smaller niches of guests start grouping, Morpheus is displeased when his wife leaves his side to mingle amongst the other gods. He watches from the shadows, small fruit plate in hand, glooming as she smiles with her guests. A hand comes up to hide her mouth as she laughs at something Phanes, God of Life, said. Jealousy brews and grows bitter like spoiled milk.

Morpheus stands, ready to come to his wife’s side in hopes of deterring the god, but before he can a nymph comes forward and gives an exaggerated curtsy. He can’t help the slight roll of his eyes as she begins to talk him up. The nymph’s voice carries a small lithe to it and he becomes unfocused, only noticing the movement of his wife’s green dress and Phanes walking off into the hedge labyrinth.

A frown etches itself onto his face. The nymph choosing to ignore the frown finds the courage to lift a mossy hand to caress his coat’s lapel, to which the Endless notices. Morpheus looks down at the nymph, his hand tightly grabbing into her wrist and dropping it away from him.

“Do not presume you may touch me, insolent child.” His voice is deep and grave as his frown deepens.

The nymph’s face contorted into embarrassment as red poppies boom across her cheeks and ears. She briskly walks away, forgetting to curtsy, with her tail tucked between her legs. The forest nymph looks forward to the next time she meets the Dream King, but she does not know that this will be the last time the doors of the Dreaming will open to her.

Dream makes a beeline towards the hedge labyrinth, taking a right turn as he had witnessed his wife doing moments ago. But, as something as lucid as the Dreaming, the labyrinth path twists and turns in new ways each moment. Morpheus turns left and right based on where he could feel his wife’s presence, but seems that she does not want to be found.

As a deity in her own right, should she so command it, she would not be found. Something that the Endless found infuriating at the moment. What could she possibly be doing with Phanes? Did she invite him for a personal reason? Was the dinner event a ruse so she could speak with him without raising any questions? Well, Morpheus surely was starting to ask questions.

Jealously turned into guilt quickly like the crack of a lightning bolt. Has he not been a good husband? Was she getting bored of their marriage? It has been several centuries, after all. Guilt turned into sadness as the questions he asked started bringing down his spirit. Surely there is something he can do to make her happy again. Surely she is faithful, surely, surely, surely…

Morpheus stands still, the drive to find his wife lost. The hedge leaves shiver as the temperature grows colder from the king’s mood. The lovely sunset leaves the last of its warmth before disappearing, leaving the sky full of stars. He turns around and retraces his steps, if his wife does not want to be found, he will grant her this wish.

Morpheus would never admit to anyone that he mopes. But with his sluggish walk and downturned lips, he clearly was. He sees his wife had made it out of the labyrinth quite some time ago and is already waving her guests goodbye, Phanes nowhere in sight. When she sees him emerging from the hedges, she perks up and excuses herself from her conversation.

“Dear husband, where did you run off to? Too many people in your presence?” She jokes, latching herself onto his arm.

“I was merely looking for you,” Morpheous murmurs. He starts walking with her back to the castle.

He waits as his wife takes a pause, slowing down in step. “You followed me into the labyrinths?”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Yes…” He draws out, trying to tread lightly, hoping that she would open up without much prompting. “I saw you and Phanes entering together.”

An amused huff escapes her. “I see.”

The silence lingers like the plague: uncomfortable and heavy in the air.

“Will you not speak as to why?” He questions and he almost hates how desperate he sounds.

The lady takes a seat on his throne, only to lean down and take off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. She rubs the ankles of her foot when she speaks again. “I believe it to be a personal matter.”

The answer was vague, and Morpheous hated it. Angry, gray storm clouds formed overhead and the ice-cold rain started to hit the stained glass behind her.

“Am I not worth sharing with?” He asks again, but he doesn’t stop to let her answer. With her eyes wide in surprise, he continues. “Am I not good enough? Faithful enough? Am I not devoted enough to you, my love? Will you command me to beg on my knees, I shall if you so ask.”

He falls to his knees before her and runs his hands from her ankle to her knee, slowly, deliberately. His lips follow soon after, tracing the same path his fingers had. Her breath hitches and her hearts start beating faster.

“How can I show my devotion to you, my love?” He kisses.

“My wife?” He kisses again.

“My forever goddess?” And again.

“Morpheus,” She breathes out, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. She is all he ever wants to breathe and all he wants to taste.

“I pray to Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, for forgiveness. I have left my wife unsatisfied and feel the crop of our love withered. I shall repent for my sins by your guidance.” Morpheus says in a hushed tone as he slowly inches higher on her leg.

The goddess feels power surge through her as the prayer leaves her husband's lips, and she craves the touch of them on her own. Heat pools between her legs as her husband’s breath fans across her lower regions. Her dress slits exposed her legs deliciously to Morpheous but there were still her undergarments, which he removed slowly, keeping contact with her silky skin as it slid down.

Her Lady looks down at him with uneven breaths and waits for him to give her what she wants. Morpheus, however, is patient. He traces his lips higher, he kisses all the spots she wants, but not where she needs it the most.

“Morpheus,” She pleads, and it is all he needs. One moment it is the cold air of the Dreaming and the next it is the warmth of his lips, tongue languishing the length of her slit.

She jerks in place, strong hands holding down her hips. Her own hands shoot out, desperate to grab onto anything. One, bear-clawed and desperate, on the arm of the throne and the other weaving itself into the silky strands of her husband. She gasps at the wet sensation and her head is thrown back in pleasure.

The Endless is unmovable, driven solely by the purpose of satisfying his wife. A low groan emits from deep in his throat at the unapologetic sounds she cries, babbling in a series of his name and other obscenities. He tilts his head higher until he finds her clit and relishes in the pain of her nails in his hair, lapping at her arousal with contentment until it drips down his chin. He is a starved man and she is his salvation.

Morpheus continues his demonstrations, alternating between her clit and her needy cunt. She clenches her thighs hard as she feels the impending rise of her orgasm. Her fingertips buzz with excitement as he continues to ravish her sensitive clit. His pace continues, and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

She calls out his name again, and a high-pitched whine leaves her lips as he easily adds two digits into her weeping hole. He moves them slowly, slightly curved to touch that delicious spot inside her that has her arching her back taught like a bow. From below, Morpheus looks at her through his lashes, and he can’t help the smirk that tugs on his lips as his wife tries to thrash from the sensations. She tightens around him, cunt pulsing sporadically, and he is flooded with her orgasm where he drinks greedily from the taste - sweet like a plentiful summer wine.

He places a final gentle kiss on her clit before looking at her again, the skin of her extremities glowing ethereally as she tries to control her ragged breaths. She is still in the midst of her orgasm, trying to calm herself from the high and he finds it the perfect time to leave a bruising hickey on the inside of her plush thighs. Morpheus gets up, dick painfully hard as it brushes against his pants. He takes hold of her hands to help her stand on wobbly legs and leans back.

He leans until he falls, through the throne room floor and then onto the plushness of their shared bed. His command dematerializes both of their clothes and he basks in the sticky warmth of his wife on top of him. He runs light fingers down her spine, shivers following behind like a loyal companion, whispering sweet nothings into her ears.

“Come back to me,” He murmurs, kissing her sweat-filled brow.

“Hmm,” The goddess exhales after a few more seconds of silence, eyes opening languishingly, lashes tickling the skin of her husband.

She looks around the dimly lit room for a moment before realizing that she is in their bed. Using her husband’s chest, she props herself up, effectively straddling him beneath her. Morpheus remains unmoving, ignoring the way his tip brushes against her lower lips, only messaging the meat of her hips with his thumb.

When she meets his eyes again, he speaks. “Have I proven myself, dear wife?”

It takes a moment for the goddess to remember what he was talking about and her feelings crash down again. “You had never needed to prove yourself to me, Morpheus. What happened between me and Phanes will remain between me and Phanes.”

She lifts herself on sore thighs, but can’t get far as gentle hands turn rough. The next moment, she is lying down with her husband looming over her. There was not enough light to illuminate his face, leaving only the impression of his merciless, mercury eyes. Deep down, she knows no harm will ever befall her, but in this moment, something primal presents itself.

Perhaps it is how his eyes bore into her very soul, to the very moment she was born several millennia ago. Or perhaps, she was just crazy about how his touch was driving her mad. She was very aware of the appendage that settled between the two of them and the way that her slick was coating it. His hands cup her cheek and slide down her neck and her head tilts back at the ticklish and yet pleasurable sensation. She swallows thickly and a broken sigh escapes her as his hand ghosts over her nipple.

Shivers bloom once more as his mouth incloses over the perk nipple, suckling at it in a way that has her legs wrapping around his waist. Her arms come up and snake over his shoulders, fingers gliding over the smooth marble-like skin, then resting behind his neck. One of her hands finds itself back into his hair, clenching as he gives continuous pleasure to her body.

Her hips buck up, her pussy clenching down on nothing. Cold fingers glide down the center of her stomach, going lower and lower until they cup her heat. A thumb gently circles her clit, understanding the overstimulation it recently received. They trace over her outer lips, downwards, then upwards again, coating themselves with a mixture of spit and arousal.

Morpheus removes himself from her breasts and presses his lips at the junction between her neck and shoulder. He licks at the sweat that accumulates on her collarbone and continues up her neck. When he faces her again, he speaks.

“Beg for it.” He commands.

Her Lady remains silent, slowly chewing on the inside of her lip, weighing the options in her head. Morpheus, as always, is patient and he continues running his fingers between her folds, keeping his pace but occasionally rubbing his pointer finger in circles around her clit. When she realizes that he really would just keep rubbing her and nothing else, she opens her mouth.

“P-please,” She stutters, the mere idea of begging or pleading foreign on her tongue. As a goddess, one would never allow such lowly behavior. Nevertheless how her husband will give her whatever she asks for.

Morpheus hums in approval, removing his hand to hold his dick instead. He rubs it this time in lieu of his fingers around her cunt and the goddess almost begs again. Before she can, a moan releases from both of them as he inserts himself into her and she whimpers at the familiar dull ache of being stretched out. Morpheus dips his head between her neck and shoulder again and remains stiff, feeling the warmth that only his wife can provide.

He pulls out and she mews beneath him in pleasure, ushering him to fill her up once again. Her cunt sucks him back and he wraps one of his arms underneath her waist to ground him. The other slams against the headboard of the bed, and he grabs on for all he is worth. His thrusts grow harder as her cries grow louder and he feels the way she clenches down on him.

“How divine you are, my love,” He says with a shaky breath, kissing more bruising hickeys that he hopes will last for millennia. He blows cold air over them and goosebumps rise in place, her back arching again and he can feel each perk nipple rubbing against his chest.

She moans his name again, losing herself in each drag of his cock, screaming curses when the head brushes against her sensitive spot, and whimpering when it kisses her cervix. Morpheus rises, looking down on his wife with half-lidded eyes, running a hand down between the valley of her breasts, feeling each desperate breath of air. He goes lower and groans when he sees how the two of them are connected.

Each thrust creates an unholy, slick noise and he can see the inflamed clit begging for attention. He presses his fingers on her lower stomach and she cries out for him.

“Can you feel me, my Queen?” He growls down at her, feeling the way his dick moves within her.

“Yes!” She cries back, her brows furrow and her cunt pulses around him, gripping him like a vice.

“Do you love me, my Queen?” He asks again.

“Yes!” She cries again. She starts begging again. Please, please, please, please. “Don’t stop, please my King. Please, don’t stop!”

“Will you tell me why you spoke with Phanes?” His last question.

Her eyes snap open, all the build up from her orgasm lost in the question. With her legs still around his waist, she twists her hips and topples Morpheus over until he is beneath her again.

“No,” She whispers, rocking her hips back and forth to regain the momentum they had lost.

This time, it is him who pleads. “Please,” He whispers back. His hands cup at the roundness of her ass cheeks, loving how soft they were.

She increases the ferocity of her grinds, looking down at her husband like he had just done with her. His head tosses back and she loves watching his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat as he moans for her. His eyes are squeezed shut and his grip tightens but she doesn’t relent.

That familiar searing hot feeling appears again in her lower stomach and with one final grind she releases her orgasm all over him, falling onto his heaving chest. Morpheus cums right after, shooting his release into her in hot loads and she feels each jolt inside of her.

Her orgasm rocks through her body, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time. It tingles in her fingers and toes and when she closes her eyes, she sees the stars of the Dreaming shinging back at her. When she comes back to her senses (again) she can feel her husband’s hand running through her bed hair, untangling it as much as he could with the one hand. The other hand holds her waist flush with his. The two lovers share a quiet moment after their throw of passion before she speaks again.

“Phanes and I…” She starts, and she can feel Morpheus stiffen under her. She groans as his cock is still deep in her, semi-hard and the only thing keeping them together.

She shifts a bit and some of their combined release pool down onto his abdomen. He would never admit to her how filthy he thought it was, nor the fact that he loved it all the same.

“Yes?” Morpheus urges, looking down at her on his chest with full attention.

“We made a deal.” She finishes her sentence.

Everything stops as Morpheus sits up. “What deal did you strike? I can do it instead, terminate the deal at once, my love.” He says with anxiety.

His wife grabs onto him as she is rocked back and a smile appears on her face. “Morpheus, my love, you have done your part.” Her smile turns sad and a forlorn look cloaks her face and she casts her gaze downwards. “We just needed some extra help.”

A confused look crosses Morpheus’s face. He brings a hand to lift her chin to look at him. With the raise of an eyebrow, he doesn’t have to say anything for his wife to know he wants a better explanation.

“I asked for a child, Morpheus.”

When her husband remains quiet, her lips start to tug downwards and his heart lurches at the sight. Her waterline soon floods with tears.

“We have not been able to produce an heir once.” She says, voice wavering. She dares not to blink for she is afraid if a single tear were to fall, all of them would.

“What in return?” He asks.

“I look after his pet snake for a weekend.” She replies simply. Morpheus has returned to his previous position.

The tears start to fall, each fat drop hitting his skin seemingly striking him directly in the heart. “You need not worry, wife. This time it will take, with Phanes’s help or not.” He whispers into the crown of her head.

She nods once, sniffling as her nose starts to run, too. The rhythmic breathing below her and the continued brushing of her hair rocks her to a dreamless sleep. Morpheus wraps his arms protectively around her frame and should he have known, he would’ve stayed longer. He would’ve held her tighter, kissed her longer, and promised her that he would be there when she woke. Alas, there was a missing nightmare, rampaging through the waking world, something that was his responsibility as king.

When she wakes up the next morning, with a satisfying ache throughout her body, the bed was cold and empty, and her husband was nowhere to be seen. To say that this was new behavior would be a lie, unfortunately. The number of times that a night of passionate love-making ended in a cold and lonely morning was more than she could count on her fingers and toes. That isn’t to say that Morpheus didn’t want to stay in bed with her, it’s simply a sovereign that understands his responsibilities, and she could never blame her husband for that.

Avoiding the difficult conversation the two lovers shared last night, her Lady avoids the locations her husband is most likely to reside in. Instead, she chooses to look towards her duties in the Dreaming. She finds herself amongst a simple dream from a small farmer who looks after sheep, who struggles with getting their weight to increase during the harsh winters. Carefully, she admits herself to him, dressed in a light yellow dress, sunflowers decorating the fabric and her hair. Her hands were covered in dirt, and she held a shepherd’s crook that had a bell attached to the end.

The farmer looks up from his rocking chair, prized sheep chewing lazily around him, and smoke from his pipe circles him. His face was rough - old and wrinkled from long days in the sun during his youth. But she smiles gently at him when his laugh lines appear around the edges of his eyes and mouth.

She stands next to him and they stare out on his flock together. He shares his life story. The story of a young boy whose father was also a farmer, and his father before him, and his father before him. He talks about his first puppy, named Barkly, his first love, whom he lost after he was drafted into the First World War, and how he now finds solitude with his late wife’s grave and his grandchildren.

He mentions that he needs to fatten his sheep up for the winter as he can’t lose any more stock so he may afford medicine for his sick grandson. He confesses that he has tried everything and nothing seems to have worked. He looks up at her now, tired, and slumped over, and realization dawns on his face as she smiles down at him.

She whispers at him a simple solution, one he can’t quite hear over the muddle of a dream. He stands abruptly as her figure distorts, the dawn is rising and a farmer’s body rises with it. He thanks her - he offers a sheep for her, which she nods at before he wakes from his dream.

The goddess visits a few more dreams, each giving her ethereal presence. Some were like the one she was just at, some needed comfort from the loss of animals, and some dreamed of a new pet to have. By the 5th dream, she realizes that several days had passed in the waking world, and her husband was nowhere to be found.

She admits to herself that she had been avoiding him longer than she intends, but perhaps it was time to face him again. She teleports to the castle, summoning herself before the drawbridge of the magnificent building. The ivory dragon perks up at her arrival, but otherwise pays no attention to her, going back to hoarding its gold coins, a few of them falling when she crosses the large doors.

As always, the castle is slightly colder than what she likes. A small sense of deja vu encapsulates her as she walks to the all-familiar throne room. This time, however, it was empty. No figure on the throne, nor the stairs as he sometimes preferrs it. Odd, she thinks, but not impossible. So she turns a corner to the library, she often finds him here as well, looking over the books of his dreamers. She searches high and low, through each aisle and reading spot, but still nothing. Anxiety and thoughts of doubt begin to fill her. Perhaps she did mess up, making that deal with Phanes.

Her last stop was Cain and Able’s homes. She finds the two brothers in front of their own homes, tending to their garden and playing with the gargoyle that Morpheus had given them. The two were of no help as they were unable to answer something worthy of even a hint of where her husband was.

She rolls her eyes as the walk away from their homes was accompanied by the sound of a scream and the resolute bang of a metal shovel hitting a skull.

As her last resort, she calls for Lucienne. Often, she hopes to never bother her, understanding that the work she puts into maintaining the Dreaming is never-ending. And, she knew that if she were to ask something of her, Lucienne would stop everything to help her.

“His Lord left several nights ago to fetch the Corinthian,” She spoke, pushing up her round glasses.

“And since then?” She questions, her hands wringing with themselves. She hopes for an answer she knows she won’t get.

Lucienne shakes her head no. “My Lady, Jessamy hasn’t returned either. Perhaps his Lord is simply taking longer than usual.”

“Let us hope,” She says defeated.

For the next few months, the goddess stays within the Dreaming. Each day that passes, more hope was lost for her husband's return. Doubt and anxiety cloud her mind at the uncertain future.

She looks down at her stomach, a distinguishable bump had made its appearance and she rubs it gently with her hand. The deal with Phanes went through, she is with child. She should be happy right? Except for the obvious fact that Morpheus still had not returned.

Her cat lounges at her feet where she sits and she pets its head. With a trill, it looks at her, similar mercury eyes of her husband stares back. She had no choice but to find him herself.

“Go,” She asks of it. “Go to the waking world, find Morpheus.”

The cat sits up and stretches, hind high in the air. Its claws grips into the plush carpet it rests on. With another stretch to its lower back, it trots off, the jingling sounds of its bell disappearing as it crosses over to the waking world.

All the goddess could do was wait and hope. She runs another anxious hand across her stomach and a tear escapes her.

Lucienne had mentioned it to her in passing a few days ago. The librarian stated that it probably was nothing to worry about, but the conversation had stuck with the goddess since.

The Dreaming is dying.

As much as the Dreaming is hers through marriage, it is suffering without its true ruler in the realm. She could see it in the dying leaves and small cracks of the castle. The ivory dragon that rests above the castle has gotten more restless in the past few weeks. And despite her best efforts to comfort the animal, the dragon did not listen to the Goddess of Husbandry.

This brings up a second concern of hers. The child she carries is as much a part of her as it is the Dreaming’s. It embodies a part of the Dream Lord and if the Dreaming is suffering, there stands to reason that her husband is suffering as well. If both of these entities are suffering, what is to happen to her child?

This child that she already loves until she is forgotten and nothing but stardust and she had been asking for centuries. This child that Morpheus is finally ready to love after the untimely death of his son. She must find Morpheus, and soon.

For the sake of the Dreaming and her child.

Several more weeks pass and her cat had yet to come back. She only hopes that it was due to the difficulty of finding an Endless and not because it got distracted with a family whose heart was big enough to take in a “stray” cat. Each day that passes, she grows significantly weaker. The prayers of her followers still ring in her ears, but she could not leave the Dreaming to help her devotees.

Another war broke out among the humans, the one they call World War II. Less and fewer people were crossing over into the dreaming and slowly, the once beautiful realm was losing its colors. The goddess couldn’t stop the residents of the realm from leaving its gates, the Dreaming was no longer a place they wished to stay. Furthermore, there weren’t enough dreamers for them to bother staying. She only remains thankful for those who decided to stay.

She sits on Morpheus’ throne, the castle colder than ever. Behind her, the once beautiful stained glass had shattered. The Corinthian had still not been captured, or else her husband would have been home and Fiddler’s Green had decided to leave. She runs a hand through her hair at the issues that seem to keep piling up. As she ignores her prayers, her powers start to wane. Fewer and fewer people were still believing in her.

And how could she blame them? She hasn’t made herself present in any of their prayers and with the war, people were less concerned about animals and more about themselves. She sighs.

A sharp pain yanks her out of her thoughts and a scream rips from her throat. She doubles over from the throne and kneels, hunching over on the floor. The pain spreads across her lower abdomen and a shaking hand holds her stomach. Immediately she knew something was wrong and it involved the safety of her child.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, too focused on staying conscious. The throne room was empty, her fall echoed around and bounced across the wide walls. When she thought the pain was over, she took in a large breath, inhaling shakily in gulps.

Salvation lasts a few seconds before another wave of pain overwhelms her. It wraps around her like a hot blanket on a sweltering day, sticking to her skin and making her overstimulated. Too much was happening at once and it was almost too hard to bear.

“Lucienne!” She screams between cramps. Tears fall in fat drops onto the floor and wets the hand propping her up.

Lucienne appears quickly, followed closely by Mervin. Hands grab at her weak body and hoist her back onto the throne. Where she had fallen, blood pooled and more fell from between her legs.

Her whole body shakes with shivers and a whimper leaves her.

“My Lady,” Lucienne says with concern. The librarian couldn’t stop from staring at the growing pool of blood below her.

“What do we do?” Mervin asks. Even though he was a glorified janitor, constructor, and destructor for the Dreaming, he didn’t know how to fix this.

“Call for Phanes,” Their Lady said weakly. Sweat begins to appear like morning dew across her forehead. For once, she was grateful for the cool temperature.

“Mervin, take her to his Lord’s chambers,” Lucienne instructs. She doesn’t stay to watch as she sprints to the library.

She flips through leather-bound books, old and new until she finds the correct summoning spell she was looking for. The loyal librarian could only hope that a god would listen to a dream like her.

She hauls the large book into the room her Lady lays in. Labored breathing came from both women, although for two vastly different reasons.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I require your assistance,” Lucienne said next to the goddess’ bed.

The goddess gives her a hand limply and Lucienne starts chanting the words on the page while holding her cold fingers. The wind whirls around them and Mervin holds onto his pumpkin head to not have it knocked off.

Lucienne finishes the spell and looks down. Her Lady was glowing with power but she could not have looked any more weak. Nothing happens for a few bated breaths, only the sound of howling wind around them. Then nothing, not even the sound of crickets could be heard.

Enters Phanes, golden and warm like the sun. He materializes in a cloud of golden dust. He slams his staff down, and his golden snake slithers up from under his robes.

“Who dares summon m-”

“Lord Phanes,” Lucienne interrupts, something she knows she would be punished for, if not for the more important matter at hand.

A glare is thrown her way and softens at the familiar face. Phanes’ eyes travel across the intertwined fingers and land on his friend.

Weak eyes open and meet his. The godly figure is almost too much to stare directly at.

As if understanding what was happening to his friend, he drops the golden light he had been shining. The Dreaming returns to its cold blue, and it was just two deities and two dreams in understanding.

“A new deal,” Phanes announces and the goddess wants to weep again. Judging by how her husband acted the last time she had done this, she was going to be doomed. But the decision was easily made.

“Anything,” she whispers. Her eyelids are starting to feel heavy. She had delivered countless calves, kittens, and cubs, but never another deity. Was she supposed to feel this weak?

Silky scales slide across her feverish skin and she is face to face with Phanes’ serpent.

“Give your child to him, he will keep them safe until they may come to fruition. Until then, you must look after the serpent as if it is of your blood.”

The goddess could barely pay attention but understood in a way without words. She nods in agreement and the relief begins almost immediately.

Pain seeps out of her body, slow, like molasses and her body starts to glow again. Lucienne shields her eyes and peeks through her fingers. The goddess’ stomach glows and deflates.

A small glowing ball releases itself from the warmth of her womb, its dim light is warm and lights the room like a lantern on a foggy night. A weak hand cups it and it sits in the palm of its mother.

“Hello, darling son,” She whispers. The ball stays still, a small high-pitched noise emitting from itself.

The goddess smiles. “Darling daughter, then?” This time, the ball bounces gently a few times in response but otherwise doesn’t do anything.

The golden serpent is slowly making its way up the arm that holds the glowing orb. A tongue flicks out and smells it. Then with a nod from the goddess, the serpent unhinges its mouth and swallows the child whole. The light shines through the crevices of its eyes and ears as it makes its way down the serpent's throat. Eventually, the light dissipates and the serpent looks all the same, save for the bulge in its stomach.

A sense of longing borrows itself into her chest where her heart lies. Quite literally, the light disappears right in front of her. Physically, her pain had been removed, only the dried blood between her legs reminded her of what had happened just moments prior. And yet, a dull pain resides. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she could feel it behind her eyes and how it lodges in her throat.

Her gaze is unfocused as she pets the golden snake, her golden snake now, her child. For the rest of the night, she rests and Phanes leaves without a word. Lucienne stays by her side the whole time, eyes only moving when the serpent shifts. Mervin went back to work after a few hours, the castle’s foundation still cracking under their feet. He left with a sorrowful look, well, as sorrowful as a pumpkin head could be.

As the sun rises the next day, the goddess wakes up to not only the snake by her side but the librarian and her long awaited cat. Lucienne wakes up at the first shift that her Lady makes and stands.

“Let me draw you a bath,” She said before any debate.

“Lucienne,” Her Lady calls after her anyway in rejection. All of her handmaidens had left. They were only there to help the goddess under the instruction of the Dream Lord who created them. Without him here, no one would punish them for leaving and not attending his wife.

Still, the librarian doesn’t listen and disappears into the joined bathroom. Meanwhile, the goddess looks down at her cat and raises an eyebrow. It has certainly gotten fatter. And a new name tag was attached to his collar next to his bell.

“Buttons,” She said out loud, reading the new name. At that, the cat perks up and stares back at her disappointed face. “You got distracted on your mission didn’t you?”

She pets his rounder stomach and scratches his head. “Well, they certainly loved you…” The hidden passive-aggressive message was evident.

The cat, now Buttons, doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, it lays back down, flicking its tail aggressively at her comment.

She rolls her eyes. “Did you locate his Lord?”

Buttons rolls onto his back and stretches, belly exposing to her, and opens his mouth in a yawn. “Burgess Manor,” He says and turns his body away from her.

Finally, an answer. She throws the blanket off her body and goes to stand. She looks at her closet, thinking of what to wear to the waking world to retrieve her husband.

“My Lady!” Lucienne exclaims as she walks out of the bathroom. The goddess looks over at her and notices her staring at her dress. She looks down as well and remembers all of the blood that she spilled last night. It had caked itself into the fabric and was still crusted on the inside of her legs.

The librarian’s shock was still on her face when she realizes that her Lady fully intends to go to the waking world looking like that, having overheard the conversation between her and the cat. Lucienne insists she take a bath first and that she would find something for her to wear.

Her Lady doesn’t disagree and disappears into the steaming bathtub that was made for her. She doesn’t regret it for a second the moment she steps in. The warmth was comforting like a mother huddling to keep its cub warm. The water washes away the filths of yesterday and within the embrace of the water, she finally cries.

It’s not a gentle cry, it is hiccups and gasping for breath. The pain of yesterday that she felt behind her eyes and in her throat spills out. Her bathwater which used to smell of apples and cinnamon now turns into a maroon as her blood washes out. It starts to smell of iron and salt and it reminds her of war.

Her hand runs over her stomach and a whimper leaves her again at the lack of the bump she had grown so accustomed to. Logically, she knows that her child, no her daughter, was safe. But, one would have to admit that having their daughter in the stomach of a serpent was a bit unnerving.

A golden head peaks at her over the side of the ceramic bathtub and flicks out its tongue.

She sniffs the last of her tears away and pets its head with her index finger. “I’m sorry for leaving you already, dear daughter.”

The serpent’s stomach had grown twice as large since last night and since this is new territory for her, she must make haste so she may be back in the dream to witness the birth of her daughter.

Before she left, though, she walks into the castle gardens and gets to work. From her fingertips she grows a birch tree, its white branches and muted green leaves fit right into the dying realm around them. She sprouts flowers and brushes for scenery and a bed made of straw under a tunnel that she dug out.

The golden serpent follows her and slithers up her body, wrapping around her curves. When its head was next to hers, it let out a rattling-like noise in agreement with the small open enclosure the goddess had made for it. It slides back down her body and makes it home in the tunnel.

“Mommy will be back,” She whispers to it when it settles in and gives it a quick peck on the top of its head. It flicks its tongue at her and moves further into its nest.

The goddess stands back up and dusts off any dirt that could have gotten on her dress. Lucienne helps her pick out an appropriate attire for the waking world. Something she wouldn’t personally wear, but it certainly helps to blend in with the mortals. She quickly had to locate her husband. After all, she has no idea how long it takes for a snake to incubate a child.

It was easy to find the Burgess Manor when she arrives in the waking world. Everyone who was anyone spoke about the grand magus who managed to capture the devil in his basement. That the devil had granted him eternal life and some other rumors. All she had to do was flaunt a smile and go where the fingers pointed.

The rumors, of course, were mere rumors. The devil? No. Without knowing it, Rodrick Burgess managed to capture something even more powerful. How he had managed to keep him captured was a different question entirely and the goddess had a sneaking suspicion that he had some help.

It was nightfall when she arrives at the gates of the manor. Thousands of people clamor in the front garden, talking amongst themselves. Suddenly, the clothing she had worn was not fit for the environment she was walking into. Using a little bit of her powers, she changes the outlook of her clothing into something else. It was a bit more formal, growing longer and softer to the touch. However, if someone were to squint and stare hard enough, they would be able to see the original dress she had worn.

She weaves her way to the front and listens carefully to the words around her.

“I had arrived this morning, my feet are killing me.”

“Ha, me as well. But anything to get into the manor. I want to see what the Great Magus is hiding.”

“Not to mention the party of your lifetime!” They joke together.

Someone taps her on her shoulder. Another young man was waiting to be let in.

“You are a new face,” He comments and takes her hand. He presses his lips to the back of it. She takes her hand back and wipes it away on the back of her dress while keeping a smile.

“Yes, I wish to see the Great Magus himself.” She half-lies through her teeth. The young gentleman offers an arm to her which she reluctantly takes. Perhaps he will be the key to getting into the manor.

The doors of the manor open and people slowly trickle in. She peers over shoulders into the manor but couldn’t immediately find anything of note that would be dangerous. The warmth of the building fans over her as she enters through the large doors and a breath of relief escapes her.

“Isn’t it everything you could ever dream of?” The gentleman asks. He looks down at her with a smile.

She looks around, the manor was certainly lively. Foods of all kinds sprawl out on tables, fresh flowers almost too sweet to smell, and candlelight flickers and dances from the sudden wind. There were some party tricks as well, the flames seem to sparkle a bit more, bubbles were floating around in the air without popping, and the statues follows her with their eyes. But, they were all small party tricks, nothing to indicate this holier-than-thou man.

Through the buzz of it all, she could feel it. The string of fate that connects her to her husband. It was faint, but it was there and she knew she was in the right place. She just had to find out where.

A man emerges on the top of the stairs to the second floor and opens his arms in a flourish. She frowns at him because there he was, Rodrick Burgess, the man who took her husband. By the end of tonight, she promises herself, there will be no Rodrick Burgess.

“Ow, dang you’ve got a grip on you,” She breaks eye contact with Rodrick when her escort for the evening exclaims out. She releases the iron grip she had wrapped around his lower arm and apologizes.

“I am terribly sorry,” She apologizes. “Actually, I am parched, can you be a gentleman and fetch me some lemonade?” She bats her eyelashes and gives a smile. His face lights up in a blush and runs off to fetch her the lemonade she wants.

As soon as he was out of eyesight, the goddess began moving. She moves between bodies like wind on the beachfront - gracefully, wistfully, but with purpose. She uses her senses to locate where her husband could be. It was like an invisible dance.

When the sense weakens she backtracks, when it strengthens she moves forward. She was so lost in her quest that she almost did not register when she ran into a wool-covered chest. Surprise overtook her face as she looks up, ready to apologize and continue on her way. But she stops when she realizes that the man she bumps into is the very host of the party.

“Rodrick Burgess,” She says almost breathlessly. Oh, how she wants to commit a grievous crime to this mortal.

The old man chuckles above her and grabs onto her shoulders. His fingers are cold when they come into contact with her bare skin and she wants to cringe away from his touch, but he holds on strong.

“You seem like a curious creature, my little dove,” He comments and starts to walk. Without much room to budge, she is reluctant to follow him.

“Yes,” She drawls out much like how Morpheus tends to do. She suddenly acts with interest when she realizes that the bond strength between her and her husband increases. She holds on tighter and presses her body against his arm.

“I heard that the great Magus kept the devil in the basement of his manor. Can we see it?” She fakes a supple voice and looks up at him with an innocent smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think a small thing such as yourself would want to see the devil.”

“No!” She belts out, a bit too quickly. But she recovers smoothly. “What I mean to say is, I am far too excited to see him. Please don’t deny me this one pleasure Great Magus.”

“How loathsome,” She thinks to herself.

“Very well, I can’t deny you anything if you keep looking at me like that.” He confirms.

Rodrick Burgess leads her away from the party, down a long and quiet hallway. It is decorated with antique and rare collectibles. The older man talks about each one, dragging on his time that leads to her husband, but she nods along anyway.

She had waited decades to be in the arms of her husband again, a few more minutes surely wouldn’t hurt. Soon, she is led to a dark and demanding set of double doors. Locks and bolts seal it from top to bottom. With a nod of Rodrick’s head, the guards stationed outside open the door slowly and a cold air seeps out and blows her hair back. The basement smells musty of old water and stale air. A cough emits from further down the stairs and she frowns.

“Scared yet, child?” Rodrick says to her mockingly.

She only shakes her head no as she continues down the steps.

The smell grows stronger as she gets closer and she can also make out a small portion of dirt and sand amidst it all. Despite it, the air was crisp and cold, suitable for a stone basement.

A light emits from the end of the long staircase downwards and she can’t stop her jaw unhinging as she finally sets her eyes on her husband. Tears well up in her eyes as they dart across the room.

Arches supported the basement throughout the floor and a moat still separates between her and her husband. A singular fluorescent light is cast on him in a glass prison as if he were some circus animal on display. Below the glass prison were some sort of gold runic markings and even from far away, she could feel the real magic emitting from them.

Rodrick releases her hold on him and turns to the two guards on duty that night. “You two may go,” He instructs, and the two leave without debate.

At the sound of his voice, Dream opens his eyes but remains in his laid position. His gaze pierces into his corrupt heart, if he even had one left, but quickly notices his wife by his side. With this, he sits up and gently places a hand on the glass barrier.

“Would you look at that!” Rodrick boasts. “He moves, he doesn’t do that much. Perhaps he has feelings for a pretty thing like you.”

The goddess doesn’t hear him and walks up to the glass cage in a trance. How does she free him? Tears fall restlessly down her face and her stature dejects. She snaps out of her trances on the small bridge above the stagnant water when a rough hand squeezes her upper arms.

“Stop, you must not get any closer. He is trying to seduce you into releasing him!” Rodrick hashes out between gritted teeth.

She opens her mouth to tell him something, anything, to release her husband but stops when she hears Dream’s voice again.

“Wife,” He calls simply and her body fills with all of the love and adoration she had been missing for decades.

Rodrick’s grip tightens at his voice, the first time he remembers hearing it. With a shocked face, he looks down at the woman in his grip. “Wife?!” He screams at her furiously.

She takes a deep breath and steels herself, ripping herself away from his bruising grip, and stands between him and her husband. The tears had dried and only anger left in its wake.

“The one before you is Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, Mother of Agriculture and Protector of Animals, Saint of Farmers, Queen of the Dreaming, wife of Dream of the Endless. You face me now, mortal.”

Wind swirls, somehow, in the basement but it is the least of Rodrick’s worries. He plants himself firmly as the wind picks up and sand envelops the two of them in a vortex of anger.

“I have captured something more than a god! I have an Endless!” He points a finger at her, eyes scrutinizing. “What makes you think you can defeat me? The Great Magus Rodrick Burgess?”

Walking a few steps forward, her shepherd’s crook materializes in her hand, the bell jingling violently in the wind. Her extremities start to glow their familiar light as she musters power. She points the staff at Rodrick as billets of wheat start growing around his feet and crawl up his legs, the nice wool of his pants long forgotten against the harsh stalks of the plants. The plants bloom as it sucks the life away from the very thing they grew on.

Rodrick starts chanting in Greek.

“Prostasía,” He chokes out. “Prostasía.” He chants again and he breathes easier. “Prostasía.” He chants one more time and he’s back to standing at his full height. The plants that were wrapped around him wither away and fell into dust, sucked into the sand vortex around them.

The goddess frowns, she did not realize how much power she had lost until now when a simple protection chant could stave off her attacks. Rodrick lunges at her, hands open and clawed, ready to grab onto any piece of her clothing. In turn, she slams her crook into the ground and a fissure opens up, but not before he can shove her further and her body slams into the wall of the glass prison. The fissure separates the two opponents away from each other and Rodrick steps back before he falls into the Earth.

She braces herself on the glass wall at the impact and loses her breath for a moment. She could feel the warmth of her husband��s hand and she turns away from Rodrick to look at him. His hand was aligned with her own, so close, only inches apart.

“The runes, my love,” Morpheus tells her. She looks down at looks at the graphics that surround them, the sand had erased some of it through the abrasive nature of itself. The magic within the runes would still be strong if not for the defiant smudge she creates with her foot, just in time for the fissure to finish opening. With a final look at her husband, she walks closer to the fissure, pulling the sand vortex smaller so it was just her and Rodrick again.

From the fissure glows a golden light, soft and merciful but quickly overshadowed by the growing dust. The light expands as the golden serpent which holds her daughter emerges. It had grown in size since the last time she had seen it. Its length and mass have nearly tripled in size and the baby bulge it used to flaunt was now merely a small bump.

Rodrick’s stare grows higher and higher as the snake continues to emerge, it stares at the man, tongue flicking angrily at him for daring to harm the goddess. The snake lunges, all fangs and dripping venom, its large scales clattering against each other like gold coins. Rodrick moves to the side and the serpent misses. It hisses in retaliation and comes around again, this time wrapping its body around the legs of the Great Magus.

Panic sets in as the serpent starts to constrict around the man and he can feel his pulse pounding against his head and the blood circulation gets cut off. The bones in his knees pop as they press together.

“Father!” A young boy’s voice screams across the vortex and the goddess sees a glint of silver cross into the vortex arena.

The serpent is halfway up Rodrick’s body when the goddess notices the sharp dagger that Rodrick now possesses. He rises it high in the air and with a large gasp plunges it into the flesh of the serpent. The golden scales provide little to no protection against the artifact.

“No!” She screams and takes a step forward, only to be stopped by the protective tail of the serpent.

The metal hisses as it melts against the golden scales, melting the scales together until they become smooth around the wound. Rodrick slides again and again until the weapon becomes too slippery with blood and he loses grip. The snake is now a mosaic of gold and red as it tightens one last time.

“Curse… you…” Rodrick strains out, his face turning purple as the last bit of air leaves him. The serpent weakens and falls in a slump like an inanimate rope and the sand around them falls like rain.

The goddess leaps over the fissure and after making sure the man is dead runs to the head of the golden serpent. Its eyes were dim, mouth agape as its muscles weakens and she can no longer feel it breathing on her skin when she places a hand above its nostrils.

“No, no no,” She mumbles to herself. She grabs her dress up and away from her feet as she makes her way down the length of the serpent. When she reaches where she last saw the small baby bump, she runs her hand along its underside, soon becoming slick with cooling blood.

She finds a particular cut that was deeper than normal and when she sticks her hand in there, they grab around a small appendage. A cry of relief leaves her lips as she digs deeper. She pulls her baby from the dying body and cradles it to her body. Golden scale imprints are decorated across her arms and legs and a few more along the spine of her back.

Her breath hiccups as silence fills the air. She pats her daughter’s back and wipes her mouth clean and panic seeps into her bones when still she remains quiet.

Morpheus appears behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turns to him, tears streaking down her neck.

“Crying, why-why isn’t she crying?!” She wails and clutches her child harder against her chest.

Morpheus hugs her from behind and holds the two of them to his chest.

“Y/N,” He calls her name, her real name. Not her titles, or what the mortals call her, but the name given to her since her creation.

She weeps into his form, salty tears mixing with blood and the amniotic fluid that covers her child. Her tears fall into her daughter’s mouth and feed into the child her grief, regret, and guilt as well as the hope she still had in her.

A soothing hand pets her and the silence disappears. Loud wailing comes from below and her eyes shoot open. Her daughter was finally crying, her hands in fists as they move around in the air.

“Praises,” She sobs again, this time tears of joy. Her child's eyes peel open and smiles as she grabs at her mother’s hair.

Morpheus smiles, a rare one, all teeth showing as he touches his daughter’s head gently. The three, now a family, return home to the Dreaming. There will be more to do, especially for Morpheus but for now, a small victory lies within the hope that is their daughter.

Extra:

“Well I’ll be baffled, bamboozled, and befuddled,” Phanes says, hands on his hip and his staff leaning against one of the walls of the basement.

He stares at his serpent covered in dried blood and dearly departed, lying alone on the cold basement floor.

“Look at how they massacred my boy!” He screams to no one in particular, arms out in disbelief.

He lets out a huff and crosses his arms. “I’ll let you borrow my snake, blah, blah, blah, take care of it like it’s your own, meh, meh, meh,” He mocks.

Phanes runs a hand across the top of the snake’s head and watches as the dried blood rehydrates and moves thickly back into the cuts. The gnashes done by the weapon stitch itself back close and the gold scales return to their original form.

The snake shrinks smaller and smaller until it is back to its original size. At which, it perks up and flicks a tongue out in thanks to its god.

“All right, let’s go,” Phanes says with a sigh as if this was a mundane chore. He extends out a hand for the serpent to slither up to.

“I am never making a deal with those two ever again, that was crazy.” He says to his snake.

The snake flicks its tongue again and rattles the scales on its back.

“Ohh, that’s nice that she made you an enclosure.” He responds, then remains silent as the snake says something else. “What do you mean she forgot to put mice in the enclosure for you to eat?!”

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#morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x reader smut #the sandman #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless #dream #dream x reader #dream x reader smut #angst with a happy ending #light angst #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x wife!reader #morpheus x wife reader #dream of the endless smut #dream of the endless x reader

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fatecantstopme · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!!! Can I plzz request a Morpheus and y/n are married and reader just wants alone time with her husband but he's always busy so unsatisfied reader has some alone time and Morpheus hears and goes to help her (smut included plz) 🤧🤧

Need

Pairing: Morpheus x wife!reader

Summary: Morpheus has been extremely busy since returning from captivity. He never intended to, but he'd left you without his touch for far too long.

Warnings: Fluff. SMUT, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V)

A/N: I love this idea. Hope you enjoy! 🥰

It felt like it had been ages since you'd had any alone time with your husband. He'd been incredibly busy, so much so that you barely saw him these days. It wasn't that he was ignoring you, he was simply overwhelmed with work and he had the tendency to get completely lost in it.

As the Lord of Dreams, Morpheus was constantly busy managing his kingdom, creating new dreams and nightmares, and ensuring the comfort of his creations and the dreamers who entered his realm. Given his recent absence from the realm, his work had quadrupled. As such, he had been spending a lot of time in his study or out in the Dreaming.

You had to admit you missed him terribly. When he'd first returned from his captivity, you hadn't left each other's sides for weeks, but once he began to rebuild The Dreaming, he became more distant.

This evening in particular, you were feeling extra lonely--and perhaps a bit needy. You decided to take a walk through the palace, searching for your husband. Eventually, you wandered into his study and found him hunched over his desk, several books open in front of him.

He looked up as you entered, an expression of surprise on his beautiful face. "My love? Is everything alright?" he asked gently.

You smiled as you moved across the room. "I'm alright, darling. I just haven't seen much of you in a while."

Morpheus frowned. "I am sorry, beloved. I did not intend to ignore you."

"Oh, no, not at all. I didn't think you were ignoring me. You're just very busy and I completely understand. Your work is very important."

He stood up and stepped in front of his desk, arms reaching out to pull you towards him. "Nothing is more important than you," he said solemnly.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him gently. "I appreciate that," you paused. "Do you think you'll be coming to bed tonight?"

Morpheus looked a little sad--perhaps even regretful. "I have much to do this evening, my darling. I shall endeavor to finish it in a timely manner, but I do not think it will be tonight."

You couldn't help the frown that graced your face, but you tried to hide the intensity of your sadness from your husband. "That's alright, Morpheus."

He could tell you were sad, but before he could say a word, one of his creations knocked on the open door. "Sire?"

Morpheus stepped away from you and turned his attention to the newcomer. "Yes?"

"There is a--situation that requires your assistance, my lord."

Morpheus sighed.

"It's alright, darling," you said softly. "Go take care of it."

He nodded. "I will be quick, my love."

You smiled at him before he rushed out of the room, after which you allowed your smile to fall. You sighed softly. You didn't want to be annoyed--it wasn't his fault he was so busy--but you were just so lonely.

You made your way slowly back to your bedroom. You took a hot bath before crawling into your bed. The bed was quite large, and so painfully empty.

You tossed back and forth for at least an hour, but you couldn't fall asleep. Eventually, you rolled onto your back with a dramatic sigh. Your body felt like it was on fire, your nerve endings alight with need.

You knew what you needed, but you didn't often have to take matters into your own hands--Morpheus was always ready and willing to satisfy your needs. Tonight, however, you needed a release and your husband was much too busy to help you.

You sighed as you sat up, tugging your nightgown off over your head. You laid back down and closed your eyes, trying desperately to imagine Morpheus's hands instead of your own. Your hands slid down your body towards where you needed them most.

The moment they settled between your legs, you released a soft sigh. As you began to move, your breathing became heavy and your soft moans filled the room. You sped up your ministrations, the volume of your moans increasing with the speed.

"Morpheus," you whispered softly, your imagination filling your mind with images of your husband.

On the other side of The Dreaming, Morpheus was finishing up his business when he suddenly heard your voice breaking through his concentration.

"(Y/N)?" he said as he looked up.

Soft moans carried across the breeze--your moans.

Morpheus froze, his body immediately wanting to respond to you, despite the fact he was not alone. He knew he likely wasn't going to be able to finish working, especially when he heard you call his name.

"I must go," he said abruptly.

"My lord?"

"My wife requires my immediate attention. I shall not be returning until tomorrow."

His creation simply nodded, but Morpheus didn't stay long enough to see it. He disappeared, instantly reappearing in his bedchamber. What he saw was enough for him to stop breathing.

You were completely naked on top of your shared bed, hands between your legs, body writhing as you pleasured yourself. Pretty moans floated across the room, turning Morpheus almost completely feral.

"Beloved," he said lowly, voice rough with desire.

Your eyes shot open and your hands instinctively flew to cover yourself as much as you could. When you saw Morpheus standing at the end of the bed looking at you like he was about to eat you alive, your hands lowered to your sides and you bit your lip.

"What do you think you are doing, my love?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Morpheus--I just--I needed--I need you."

His eyes impossibly darkened, turning into a starless night sky. "You could have come to me, darling."

"You were busy...I didn't wanna bother you."

"Sweetheart," he whispered as he lowered himself onto the bed, body hovering above yours possessively. "You could never bother me."

Your lips parted and your breathing became heavy. "Morpheus..."

"Yes, my love?"

"Please..." you whimpered.

"Tell me what you need, my darling."

"I need you to touch me," you begged.

Morpheus smiled wolfishly. "Anything for you," he whispered as his clothing magically disappeared. His lips met yours in a hungry, possessive kiss, which you responded to instantly. You tangled your fingers into his thick, dark hair and moaned against his lips.

His soft hands caressed your skin and his lips began to trail down your neck, focusing on your most sensitive spot. His fingers glided down your body, stopping to collect the moisture pooling in your core.

He separated from you, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste you, a soft groan of satisfaction leaving his mouth.

"Please," you whispered. "Don't tease me."

Morpheus smiled. "As you wish, my darling."

He wasted no time in lowering himself between your legs, lips immediately attaching themselves to your core. When his tongue snaked out to caress you, a broken moan slipped past your lips.

Every time with Morpheus was incredible. It was to be expected from an Endless, but you couldn't deny his sheer talent. You weren't sure if he used magic or if he was simply that good; either way, you were thankful.

"Morpheus," you murmured, his name both a prayer and a plea.

Somehow he always seemed to know exactly what you wanted and needed, and this moment was no different. His tongue danced across you, fingers gently coaxing you towards your climax.

You moaned loudly enough for all The Dreaming to hear when your orgasm washed over you, but those moans were practically whispers in comparison to the sounds the Dream Lord would tear from your throat this night.

Morpheus did not stop his actions, did not allow you even a moment to catch your breath. He brought you to climax again and again and again, before he finally acquiesced to your pleas for a pause.

"I have left you alone for far too long, my love," he murmured into your ear. His soft hands caressed your form, gently massaging your skin, the touch a comforting gesture. "It is my honor to make it up to you."

"I think..." you gasped out breathlessly, "...you have."

Morpheus chuckled darkly. "Oh no, beloved. I have only just begun."

Your eyes widened as you gazed into his handsome face. "You can't...be serious."

He offered you a pleased smirk. "Oh, but I am, my darling. I fully intend to have you writhing beneath me for the rest of the night. I wish to hear nothing but the sweet sounds coming from your lips. All the mortals visiting The Dreaming this night will have the most pleasant dreams indeed."

You stared up at him, completely breathless, utterly spent, and yet so entirely his. His fiery gaze and his passionate words lit a spark inside of you only his touch could put out.

You touched his face almost reverently as you whispered, "Please, Morpheus." Your meaning was quite clear: you wanted nothing more than the promise of endless pleasure, pleasure only he could give you.

His fingers intertwined with yours and he pulled your hands above your head, holding them in place with one arm. He entered you swiftly, giving you no time to prepare or adjust, before setting a brutal pace. There was nothing cruel about his actions...it was pure passion in its rawest and truest form.

Morpheus was true to his word, as he always was. He pleasured your body all throughout the night, bringing you a pleasure so intense it would have incapacitated a lesser being. His own pleasure was derived from seeing you like this, from hearing you scream his name, feeling you clench around him so tightly he couldn't breathe.

He whispered sweet nothings against your skin, marking the supple flesh with his deep, endless love. His body was never apart from yours for more than an instant all throughout the night.

When the sun began to rise, Morpheus finally allowed you to rest. He held your spent body against him, the warmth of your skin a comfort to him. You had long since fallen asleep, but he did not dare move. He couldn't bear the thought of waking you or leaving your side, duties be damned.

So there he lay, the King of Dreams, holding his lover tightly in his arms, protecting her and loving her with all he had to give from his Endless soul.

#Morpheus x reader smut #Morpheus x reader #morpheus x wife!reader #morpheus smut #sandman smut #the sandman #Dream #Morpheus

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roguelov · 1 year ago

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Since we're all just dumping filth in your inbox 🩷, consider:

You have been repeatedly visiting the Dreaming at night and constantly hound nightmares and dreams alike about the realm in curiosity (because you forget about asking them in the first place when you wake up the next morning)... only one dream you end up coming across Dream, hound him with questions, then a BIG one enters your mind. What happens when dreamers have sex in the realm? Dream of course answers because of course he's had to deal with plenty of sex dreams. Which of course turns into you pointing out that if the realm's ruler is the Dreaming (you still have no idea who you are speaking to), does he therefore get sucked into such dreams? Dream blinks and tells you yes... which then leads you to wondering if you've ever had a sex dream, and you begin to wonder what that is even like and pester Dream about it (again, you have no clue who he is). Dream is further amused and rather attracted to you, this strange mortal with a fascination for his realm). So he makes an offer: "would you like to find out?"

You can guess what ends up happening 😏

Only come morning for you to actually remember said dream for the first time. "so that's what its like to have a sex dream... dude was hot..."

The next night! You are right back in the Dreaming, but this time you come across Lucienne and are (once again) asking a million questions about the library, only for Dream to pop by. Lucienne is like "oh, do you require a book, my lord?" Cue a light bulb moment as introductions are made and it becomes clear that Dream knows you, and you him. Matthew ofc wants to know how you know each other. You flounder, Dream just smirks smugly and replies that he helped you with research.

*cackles*

😘

YES BRING ME THE FILTH I LOVE IT

Dream being so smug about it and you just standing there like that woman equation meme and finally being like ‘I fucked the boss?! Oh shit’ And also Dream continues to tease you a bit because he hadn’t had this fun in ages

Lucienne and Matthew shared a look. How do the two of you know each other?

Standing at your side, Dream rested his hand on your lower back. He bent down, whispering lowly in your ear, “Shall I help you with more research?”

You tried to suppress a shudder.

Dream smirked to himself. He stood straight up and started to guide you away. He nodded to Lucienne and Matthew, “Excuse us, I will assist them and answer all questions they may still have.”

Lucienne and Matthew stared somewhat surprised as Dream led you away. They certainly had more questions now.

Dream’s steps quickened and soon he guided you down a row of bookshelves hidden away. He pressed you up against the shelf.

“You are such a curious mortal,” he murmured. His lips trailed along your neck. “What must I do to quiet your mind?”

#I love filth #the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #smut #honeybeezgobzzzzz #honey my wife #ask

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melancholypancakes · 2 years ago

Text

Death: You know….he’s only ever happy with you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.

Y/n: Me? But I’m just a mortal…there’s nothing special about me.

Death: but you are. You stole my brother’s heart, you have complete control over him and I know he would do anything for you.

Y/n: well….he deserves to be happy, have a friend…it wasn’t easy but I got through to him and began to talk to me more about everything.

Y/n: I wouldn’t force him to do or say anything he didn’t want me to know or do and I don’t judge him for it. I know he did a lot of terrible things.

*Death listens as she smiles*

Y/n: but so have I and everyone else, we all make mistakes we’re not proud of it...

Y/n: Despite, how terrible our sins were, It shouldn’t define us.

Death: that’s why he loves you, you’re so kind, caring, and understanding Y/n. Even I’m surprised but grateful you two didn’t break it off.

*Y/n smiles as she looks back on her favorite moments with Morpheus and their domestic moments*

Y/n: yeah…I’m glad I have met dream. I can’t wait to start my eternal life with him.

#the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus #y/n #dream x reader #i am a simp #morpheus x y/n #lord morpheus #the sandman x reader #lord morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x you #morpheus headcanon #morpheus fluff #Y/n about to be immortal and spend her eternity with Morpheus as his queen and wife #morpheus x fem!reader

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your-nanas-house · 8 months ago

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An idea: Tommy has one of his recurring nightmares and YN decides to help him sleep by giving him a blowjob

Dunno who this anon is but I love this kind of ideas so much!! 🙇🏼‍♀️ So thank youuuu 🤗

Just another nightmare

◇ Pairing: Thomas Shelby x wife!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, handjob, choking, Tommy is a whore here and a sub... so bit ooc!Thomas, nightmare and PTSD and bad writing.

◇ Summary: Tommy wakes up from a nightmare and Y/n helps him calm down.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

"Tommy... Tommy—" her soft tired voice called as her hand shook him awake, bringing him back to reality and out of Morpheus's arms so to escape one of his reccuring nightmares.

Thomas never really talked about them with Y/n, preferring to just ignore them or ponder in silence while lighting a cigarette, instead of wasting her time by keeping her up with past crude memories... even though she offered her ear him each time.

"I'm okay" his low voice grumbled out in a dismissing tone, his body still sweating probably in state of shock as it trembled softly, joined by his fast heartbeat.

He wasn't okay, not at all... his mind was playing twisted games on him again and the past was heavier than usual during the night.

And she knew... but there wasn't much she could do if he didn't allow her to enter his mind to try, so to understand the problem better. The young woman kind of lost her patience, adopting a different approach when something like that happened when she was around.

The questioning and the oral support wasn't accepted from Thomas usually... he searched a more physical one even when there was a bit of hesitation at the beginning. But that night... it didn't seem like he would have calmed down with just some cuddles.

Reason because Y/n decided to try with a different physical and oral help.

So her tender hand traveled from his sweaty chest down to his abs and lower before sneaking inside his underwear, earning a shaky breath from Tommy.

The poor man was still a bit under shock, his body sweating cold, his heart hammering against his chest as his jaw remained clenched. Y/n could see his muscles since the moon reflected its light on them in a lovely way, allowing her to start a path of wet kisses from there.

Her beautiful eyes remained closed as her hand lazily pulled slightly down the fabric so to ease the access. Feeling his pre-cum leak on her warm skin when she accidentally brushed his angry red tip.

"Shhhh, everything is okay, love. You are here... in bed with your wife" the young woman started as she pumped his now hard lenght, using her spit to lubricate the action

"At your house in Birmingham... safe and sound... it's just you and me, honey" she purred softly out attempting to calm him down while her hand kept working. Her free one slowly moved Tommy's sweaty palm towards her so that she could place a kiss on his knuckles before sneaking it in the neckline of her nightgown.

As if by reflex, his rough hand grabbed her left breast, kneading it flesh while he felt her heartbeat against his skin.

Her tactic was working, his body was reacting at her touch and his mind was turning off, letting lust take over him... making his heart still beat fast but not due to fear or adrenaline caused by something awful but because of her small hands working his cock.

The feeling was getting intense and Thomas' eyes shot open as he slowly approached his orgasm, his muscles tensed and his back slightly arched while his hand moved away the blanket so that his icy stare could watch his wife work her magic.

The man could see his dick throbbing thanks to the attention and the familiar pre-orgasm feeling was getting more and more noticable. He could feel her soft fingers giving some attention to his balls as well before black dots formed in his view, making him roll his eyes and arch his back even more.

A whoring moan escaped his lips while he shot his seed, dirtying her hand and the sheets. He never came that hard before.

He could hear a whistle in his ear that covered the background noises in the room but not the breathless and impressed curse that left his wife's mouth.

Thomas was about to say something when she shifted, now wide awake, shutting him with her warm tongue which began to clean up the mess he did.

"You should react at my touch like this more often, love" the young woman commented smugly, gagging when he thrusted up his hips with a fake annoyed expression, so that his cock would have shut her up and removed that shit eating grin off her face.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinders smut

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hunny-beann · 1 year ago

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Hi! I love love love your first fic and your portrayal of dream!

Could I request two prompts from your hurt/comfort prompts? Specifically number 11 and number 52?

No Greater Patience

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! tysm for the request, I hope you enjoy the fic!

synopsis:

Prior to his century long captivity, Morpheus and his wife have an argument so disastrous that even after regaining his freedom over one hundred years later, he still questions whether or not he has the right to seek her out.

And yet, the yearning of an Endless is not so easily ignored by the mind, and he soon finds that regardless of his conscious thoughts, all roads lead back to her.

To you.

Prompts:

(hurt/comfort list here)

#11: Please don’t go. #52: I kept this for you while you were away // It’s been two years // I know

Warnings: A once unhappy marriage(?), is Dream himself a warning? Because he still should be.

Word Count: 4,014

Having the opportunity to visit with Death again had been nice.

Far nicer in fact, than the Lord of Dreams would ever willingly admit aloud.

She had always understood him in a way that none of his other siblings ever seemed to manage, and she was far too aware of his flaws and his past to allow him to continue his typical path of avoidance without a bit of a challenge.

Of course, there had been many a time where that had been less than ideal, particularly when Dream had little interest in dealing with those things, big and large, that always seemed to haunt him so.

Still, it was nice to be reminded of the topics and people that he had neglected to consider throughout his time held captive, like Hob Gadling for example, who Dream was now almost eagerly planning to visit at his earliest convenience.

And perhaps he would have headed off sooner, had it not been for Death's one lingering question regarding her brother's personal relationships...

"Dream?"

She had asked just after he had stepped away upon making his intentions of setting off to visit Hob clear.

Slowly, hesitantly, the individual in question turned to face his sister in response, one brow cocked in question to make up for his persistent silence.

Death sighed a bit, almost looking a little unsure before she finally continued upon realizing how little time she truly had for this particular conversation.

She had a rather important deadline to make, after all.

"Have you seen her?"

She asked gently, a sort of pity in her gaze that immediately made the being standing in front of her bristle in response, forcing down the slowly increasing feeling of anger within him as he closed his eyes and took a single deep breath before opening them once more to find her still standing there, waiting.

He shook his head.

"No. Our last conversation was... less than amicable, and was several weeks prior to my disappearance."

Death took a few steps closer, and placed a hand upon Dream's shoulder, watching him fight off the urge to step away, clearly trying his best not to end their interaction on a negative note.

"Then maybe you should consider seeing her as well. Last we spoke she wanted to ask about you, I could feel it, I just didn't want to push-"

"Sister."

Dream interrupted her, his voice not unkind, but still rather stern, at least as much so as politeness would allow.

"She made it quite clear during our last conversation how little interest she had in seeing me again. I would not think it appropriate for me to seek her out in spite of that."

Death sighed, but removed her hand from her brother's shoulder, watching as he nodded toward her in farewell before beginning to move away once more.

Still, no matter how gently she had attempted to address the tense topic, Death was still an older sister, and how could she possibly call herself by such a title if she didn't do some teasing from time to time?

"You cannot avoid the wife forever, dear brother! Do not forget, you are bound to her until I come to collect!"

Dream rolled his eyes, and though Death could not see that particular movement, she could see the way that his shoulders shifted slightly as he chuckled to himself, his head shaking from side to side as he walked off to attend to his own personal duties.

Except several hours and a visit with Hob later, he found that he could do no such thing, as his mind was far too wrapped up with thoughts of his wife.

Thoughts of you.

He had always loved you after all, hadn't he?

You, a deity worshiped into existence by humans, meant to embody nourishment and nurturing, as that found in the relationship between a mother and child, or an owner and their pet.

You were unending and fierce loyalty, the fire in the pit of the stomach, and the gentle hand clutching that of a child during an afternoon walk in the woods, setting them on the right path while never disallowing an opportunity for adventure.

You were beautiful.

And so very deserving of a type of love that Dream had simply been unable to give you.

Sure, he had always been polite, and at times even kind, but considerate was not an adjective that any would have used to describe him, nor his relationship that he shared with you.

Still, you had found it within yourself to love him anyway.

He was cold, calculating, blunt, quiet, and scrutinizing. Dream saw all, every flaw and every weakness, and though it was a rarity that he would point them out aloud without prompting, it was difficult to know just how much he truly saw whenever he looked at you.

That said, none of that had ever seemed to bother you beyond what you could manage.

You enjoyed his company, particularly back when the Dreaming had been slightly less complex, and he had been able to provide you with conversations and time, both things that he would eventually cease to have very much of as the waking world began to shift and change, thus requiring the evolution of the Dreaming as well.

More people meant more dreaming, and more dreaming meant more of the Dream Lord's attention.

And what he had neglected to realize at the time, was that you were the very first thing to lose his affections, his thoughts, and his actions.

It was as if you had always been expendable without ever truly knowing it until he was long gone, a slight indent in the bed that was only ever filled after you went to sleep and before you woke up, leaving you the possessor of both of your rings as day after day he forgot his on the bedside table until it was nothing more than a habit long forgotten.

Where you had once been the love of The Dream Lord, it now appeared that you were his wife in name and nothing more, and though it stung, you had stuck to your duties for far longer than Dream ever would have allowed you to now.

You had always deserved better, even before the being had shifted his attention's elsewhere, and even if he had not known that then, he could so clearly understand it now.

You had never given up on him, not even when nearly all of your interactions seemed to end in dismissals on his part, or arguments due to his seemingly constant exasperation in general. You wanted your husband back, but he wanted to be the Dream Lord far more than he ever wanted to be a husband at that time.

And maybe he had felt that way, sure, but he never should have said it, at least not in the way that he did.

Because he had seen the way that your face fell and your eyes grew teary. Of course he had, he saw all.

But in spite of that fact, he did not go after you when you rushed off to be alone for the one thousandth time.

And the next time that he saw you, you had approached him at his throne in the evening, and quietly, meekly, in a voice he had never heard you use before, asked for a divorce.

You had looked defeated in a way that Dream had found himself surprised by, eyes shadowed, gaze cast downward, and skin slightly paler than usual in spite of how impossible it would be for you to have taken ill due to your godly status.

And any husband, or at least any good one, would have asked you what was wrong, or what had driven you to wanting to leave so suddenly.

But Dream had not been a good husband, so he had simply grown frustrated with you.

He had accused you of being attention seeking for your "childish behaviors", called your attempts at appealing to his emotions laughable, and had all but sneered in the face of your desires.

You were, after all, the Lady of Dreams, everyone knew you as such, and the idea that you could abandon such a title? It was nearly as unthinkable as him leaving his.

His creations, nightmares and dreams alike, adored you, his siblings, (or rather those of whom that cared), seemed to enjoy or at least tolerate your presence when necessary, and most importantly of all, the Dream Lord could not imagine a world within which you were no longer his wife.

It had been centuries since your marriage, and over a thousand years of knowing you prior to that, after all.

It was almost as if he thought of you as his after all of the time of you living within his shadow as nothing more than a figurehead, the wife of a powerful being who was seldom paid any attention to by the very "man" that she had married.

But to Dream's surprise, if your actions had been for attention, you were all too keen on taking things even further, because when he made these accusations in his usual uncaring and borderline insulting tone, you had shouted at him for the very first time that he could recollect.

"It hurts!"

You had cried, eyes brimming with unexpected tears of both anger and sadness,

"It hurts to know that you see me each day without ever truly seeing me, that you call me your wife while scarcely knowing who I am anymore. If me donning the title of Lady of Dreams is so important to you Lord Morpheus, then fine, call me what you will, but know that I do not consider myself your spouse anymore, and have no intentions of staying here in this suffocating realm with you any longer."

And with that, you had gone, and The Lord of Dreams had not seen you since.

Though he had thought about you plenty, as unwilling as he was to admit it.

Your words had gotten to him, though most primarily when he had been trapped for so very long, forced to consider his past actions and mull over all that he had endured throughout the passage of time in spite of how little it was meant to impact him.

You were his wife still, sure, but now only in name, and over a century had passed since he had last heard your voice or seen your face.

Were you still worshiped as you had once been? Did his nightmares and his dreams know where you were? Had you thought of him or thought to visit the Dreaming in his absence? Had you even known that he had vanished in the manner that he did?

All of these questions coursed through his mind, and thoughtlessly, without even realizing it, he brought himself back to where he subconsciously knew that you would be.

Your home.

Nestled deep within the woods of the waking world, in a rural town within a country rather sparsely inhabited, you still resided, unsurprisingly, to this day, and as Dream approached your door for the first time in centuries, he stopped himself before he could raise a fist to knock on the sturdy old wood.

What was he doing here, bothering you after so very long of giving you the space that you so desired?

Had he not made a promise to himself that he would leave you be now that he understood all that he had done to you? All that he had deprived you of by trapping a being such as yourself in a marriage as loveless as yours had been?

At that line of internal questioning, Dream sighed, and turned to leave, only to hear the door swing open behind him just as he did so, a gasp filling the air behind his back before he quickly spun to face the source of the sound.

There you were, a giggling and bouncing baby at your hip, with a bottle in your hand, staring at the personification of dreams with eyes that were beginning to brim ever so slightly with tears.

"Please, don't go."

You whispered, causing the Dream Lord's eyes to widen ever so slightly,

"I need to talk to you."

And much to his surprise, Dream was quick to oblige, stepping into your abode in only a few simple strides, taking in the familiar yet so very changed space and atmosphere found within the walls of your home.

This was where he had met you well over a thousand years ago by happenstance, though he knew all too well deep down that all things happened for a reason, and that his meeting with you had been preordained by his eldest sibling and the stars long before the humans that had created you had even existed.

It was peaceful here, in the deeper woods with you, in your fire-heated home so hidden from view.

Or maybe, it was you who brought on that familiar peace, you who made his physical form relax in spite of how tireless it was meant to be.

He did not linger on such a thought for very long, for fear of what he might come to realize.

"You look well."

He said almost timidly, eyes cast downward and body language tense as he tried not to consider how similarly you looked even still to the last time that he'd seen you.

Beautiful, as always.

You sighed in response, wrestling a lightly chiming metal pendant out of the hand of the child in your grasp before tucking it into your shirt and away from view.

"With all due respect, my lord, I have absolutely no interest in small talk."

You said quietly, watching as Dream raised his gaze to look at you once more, eyes following intently as you shifted the child at your hip slightly, eyes still not entirely rid of the tears that had so clearly threatened to fall upon the sight of him.

"You disappeared."

You stated in a whisper, sounding almost defeated even as Dream nodded in reply,

"I did."

He said.

You sighed again, and looked down at the child, gaze softening slightly as you raised the prepared bottle to it's lips, watching as it started to suckle with delight, chubby limbs wiggling within your grasp, though you notably did not falter.

You never did, you were far too good with children, a fact that Dream had always felt unsettled by.

He was discernibly not a family man, particularly back when he had married you, and the idea that you were meant for something outside of what he could comfortably provide you with...

"And now you're back."

You said matter of factly, using that same tone as before as the being in front of you was snapped out of his reverie at the familiar sound of your voice, his reaction instantaneous.

"I am."

He said simply, watching as you looked up at him once more, tears spilling slightly in a way that for a moment, caused him to freeze up entirely.

You had never been one for crying, not even throughout the many years where he had harmed you through his lack of attention and desire. What could it have been, here and now that would bring you to such tears upon his simple words?

He moved after a moment, almost instinctively, to stand before you, some longing once believed to be long lost within him bubbling to the surface as he raised both hands to your face, cupping your cheeks in order to wipe your tears away with almost trembling thumbs that had nearly forgotten the once worshiped feeling of your skin beneath their pads.

You sighed shakily, looking him in the eyes for one of the very first times that day as you shook your head slightly,

"How could you do such a thing to me, Dream? How could you vanish so entirely without a word to me or anyone that you knew would be worried for you? How could you turn up here so casually and think to turn away and leave without letting me see the realness of you for myself?"

The Lord of Dreams looked down at you with sadness in his eyes, and moved to shake his own head in response, his hands still soft and warm against your skin.

Alive.

"I did not choose to leave, my dear."

He all but murmured, the familiar nickname he had once used for you finding his lips as naturally as water did a spring,

"And I did not think you desired to see me again after our last interaction. Coming here, it was not something I thought to do. I simply did."

You gazed up at him incredulously still stuck on that first part of his statement,

"What do you mean you did not choose to leave, Morpheus?"

You whispered, horror seeping into your tone as the being in front of you faltered, before finally speaking, shame present in every word that he spoke.

"I was captured by a human, and held against my will for over a century. My freedom, as it stands currently, is new. I did not choose to leave and stay away from my duties, I assure you."

You let out a choked and humorless sounding laugh, shaking your head even further,

"And what you consider upon your exit from such a hell is not of who you want to see, but who may wish to see you? Where has my selfish King of Dream's gone?"

You asked, voice slight and smile lopsided as Morpheus sighed and thoughtlessly traced the curves of your lips with his thumb, finding much to his surprise that the shape remained familiar even to this day.

"I was not fair to you, dear wife, not for a very long time. If nothing else, I wanted to know that I had at least respected your wishes for space, though even that may have been self serving."

You adjusted the child on your hip, before you raised your hand up to your husband's, ignoring the slight way that he shivered beneath your touch.

"Whatever do you mean, King of Dreams?"

You whispered, watching as Morpheus gave a humorless sounding chuckle of his own.

"I mean that even today, I could not bear to call you anything besides my wife. I mean that by avoiding you entirely, and calling that your wish, I am able to ignore the fact that I am still not strong enough to give you the end to our union that you so justly requested. I do not wish to lose you in that way, even if I have lost you in all others."

You hummed softly in response, smile growing gently as you removed his hand from your face, giving him a glance that had him dropping the other to his side before you guided him to your sofa, where you sat the two of you down, you with a child upon your lap, and him with nothing but his most bare self, vulnerable in a way he had not felt since he had been so plainly naked behind glass for what had felt like all of man to see.

Seeking out a distraction, Dream looked down toward the child sitting upon your lap, before moving his gaze back up to yours again.

"The child..."

He began, and immediately, you shook your head,

"He is not mine. I found him roaming the woods a few days back, and have yet to find his mother, even after stopping by the nearest town. I'm hoping to hear word of someone searching for him soon."

You said casually, watching with gleaming eyes as the child took your finger and clasped it within his chubby little fist, his grin revealing his few teeth, just barely poking out from beneath his gums.

Dream could not help but smile softly along with him, though his was merely a shadow compared to that of the child sitting atop your legs.

"I see..."

He replied, and you gazed toward him with noted amusement,

"Were you worried that I had stepped outside of our marriage, Lord Morpheus?"

You teased, watching as the man in front of you rolled his eyes before responding.

"No, I was more hoping than anything else. If you had moved on, then I might find it easier now to do the same."

You looked up at him upon hearing those words, before reaching down to place the small child on the floor in front of you with a sigh, thus allowing you to better face the being sitting at your side.

"And why is it that you are so eager to move past me, dear husband?"

You watched as Dream cast his gaze downward, eyes trained on the child playing nearby in spite of the fact that you could tell his mind was far away indeed, off somewhere that you could not follow, deeply considering every event he'd ever endured in search of an answer to your question.

How nice it must have been, to be so knowledgeable.

"If I were to move past you, wife, then I might finally be able to let you go, and if I managed to do such a thing, it would be far more feasible that you could truly hope to be rid of me someday."

You sighed, and reached for the hands of the individual that you had once known so well, and perhaps even did still, causing him to look up at you in surprise at the sudden contact.

"And if I do not want to be rid of you, dear Morpheus? If I said that after a century I have found it within myself to forgive you for the husband you once were in favor of learning what husband you could be now?"

You watched as the being sitting in front of you stared for a moment, as if in complete and utter disbelief, before he slowly began shaking his head, the corner of his lips raising ever so slightly as he leaned in to press his forehead against your own,

"Then I would say that I have known no greater patience than that of my dear wife."

He murmured, causing you to laugh quietly with a subtle roll of your eyes before you reached upward, pulling a pendant on a chain out from where it had been hidden beneath the collar of your shirt.

Dream watched curiously, not entirely sure of what you were doing, until suddenly you yanked at the chain with such force that it snapped in the back, causing either end of it to come tumbling forward into your palm.

Dream raised a brow in response to your actions, but remained silent, seeing in your eyes that you were all too eager to explain, the glint there unsubtle in a way that he was immensely familiar with.

"I kept this for you while you were away"

You stated casually as you pulled one of two clinking pieces of metal off of the chain, revealing to Dream a sight he had never anticipated having the privilege of viewing again.

There, between two of your fingertips and presented to him with such normalcy, was his wedding ring, and he could see from the subtle glint still remaining in your palm that the other metal piece on the chain had been yours.

He stared in shock, reaching for the familiar symbol of his union to you in utter disbelief, even as the coolness of it's structure wrapped itself around his ring finger as he took it and slid it on to its rightful place upon his hand.

"It’s been more than a century..."

He murmured, his tone betraying his surprise in spite of how little emotion he typically showed, even in vulnerable moments like this one.

You smiled at him, shrugging slightly as you slid your own ring onto your finger again, sighing as if having arrived home after a long day of work,

"I know."

#morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream the endless x reader #morpheus x y/n #sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream x y/n #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless fic #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x you #morpheus x f!reader #sandman x female reader #dream x fem!reader #the sandman fic #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus fic #morpheus x wife

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itskindofidontknow · 2 months ago

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What dreams know about love?

Chapter 16

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

TW: Abortion as an option, light violence between sisters

If I forgot any TW, please let me know!

The lake shimmered beneath the gentle rays of the afternoon sun, its surface dotted with the occasional ripple where a stray leaf or bird’s feather met the water. Surrounding the lake were tall trees whose branches swayed lazily, offering shade from the warmth above. The breeze was soft, warm tender even, brushing through the reeds at the water's edge. It was a typical summer day and one could easily hear the buzzing of cicadas all afternoon. It was a place designed for peace, a sanctuary of nature where the muses often congregated for lazy leisure and might enjoy each other’s company undisturbed by the chaos of gods and mortals. And yet, tension now held the air hostage.

What was meant to be an afternoon of gentle persuasion had already turned sour.

Calliope sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the far side of the lake, with her back turned away from her sister. The gentle overture from Polyhymnia, the eldest of the muses, to begin the conversation—one that every muse but Calliope knew to be the very purpose of this gathering—had met with quiet resistance. What began as a moment of peaceful indulgence, as Polyhymnia softly brushed her hair in that familiar sisterly manner, soon transformed into a posture of defiance, quickened by the shift in the air, her sisters encircling her as if she were some creature ensnared. Their expressions ranging from concern and frustration.

“She is a spoiled child who saw something she could not have and worked in a devious way to take it!” Calliope’s voice rang out, raw with the emotion she could no longer suppress. Her dark eyes flashed with fury, but beneath that fiery surface, tears glistened, threatening to spill. Her sisters had ambushed her, invited her under false pretenses to what she believed would be a tranquil afternoon. Instead, they had brought their judgment, their warnings, and she could no longer bear the condescending in their demeanor.

“Sister!” Polyhymnia’s tone was sharp, her face marked with the effort of maintaining composure. “Do not speak of what you do not understand.” Her dark brows knitted together, and for the first time in this conversation, her regal calm began to waver. She had promised herself, and the others, that they would approach Calliope with reason, that their words would be tempered with love and concern, the way that was always the best to talk to Calliope, the only way to make her listen. But how difficult it was when faced with such stubbornness, such blindness.

Polyhymnia’s figure, always elegant, now felt rigid. Her dark, braided hair, so carefully woven into a crown, stood in contrast to the loose, windswept strands that framed Calliope’s tear-streaked face. Both sisters, mirror images in appearance, now seemed so far apart.

“What is there to understand?” Calliope spat, turning to face the older sister, even if it felt almost unbearable. “She got what she wanted, didn’t she? She trapped him, and Desire helped her. They plotted together to force him into this—this cage of a marriage!”

At this, Polyhymnia’s lips thinned, her patience unraveling thread by thread. But before she could form a response, Erato stepped forward, her eyes burning with righteous anger. "Is that the sweet lie Oneiros has been feeding you?” Her voice, sharp as a blade, cut through the air between them. Erato’s cheeks flushed with the heat of her own frustration, the kind that only sisters can invoke in one another. Though a few years older than Calliope, she moved with the restlessness of youth, her steps quick as she paced in front of the group. “Does he truly make you believe he is some victim of love, poor and powerless in the hands of a scheming queen?”

Polyhymnia sighed, casting a glance at Erato—her warning unheeded. She had told her sister not to let her closeness with Lady Love cloud the conversation. Erato and Calliope always had friction between them, disagreeing on even the most mundane topics, and Polyhymnia was clear that Erato should not let the emotions of the heart interfere with the delicate matter at hand. But now it was too late.

Her devotion to Lady Love had always made her the first to rush to protect the queen, and judge anyone that dares to speak ill of her. It could almost be compared to the devotion of cupids, although they would not like to be compared. And it showed now in every line of Erato's body.

“He is not kind to her, Calliope. Oneiros treats her with cruelty,” Clio interjected quietly, her voice steady, calm—too calm. She emerged from the lake, her red hair dripping as she wrung it out with slow deliberation, as if the conversation was but a trivial matter.

Calliope’s breath hitched. That calm tone unnerved her more than Erato’s fire. Clio, ever the pragmatist, always seemed to know more than she let on, as she was a specialist on every subject in the universe. And Calliope always believed in her sister's wisdom, now however it sounded as over-the-top pretentiousness. The younger muse looked up at her, seeing in her sister's expression not malice, but pity. And that, she could not abide.

“And what of it?” she replied, her voice now cold, detached. “He is cruel because she deserves it. He punishes her for what she took from him. A fitting retribution for all that she has deprived him of.”

In an instant, the air seemed to still. Polyhymnia’s breath caught, and the others exchanged startled glances. Then, with a sudden, sharp movement, Polyhymnia’s hand connected with Calliope’s cheek, the slap echoing in the quiet, idyllic scene. Not even the buzzing of cicadas could be heard.

Calliope’s hand flew to her cheek, stunned. She had not expected this. Not from Polyhymnia. A deep sense of betrayal flooded her, mingling with the stinging pain of the slap. She opened her mouth to speak but found no words, only a raw, wounded silence.

Polyhymnia’s chest heaved with the effort of regaining control, her hand still trembling slightly from the force of the blow. She never raised her hand to any of her sisters, she never resorted to violence and her immediate instinct was to hug Calliope, and beg for forgiveness. A quick glance at Clio, who locked eyes with Poly, gave her the strength to keep her stance. This was bigger than Calliope’s feelings. This was for her own good. “You defend a man who punishes his wife, and for what? A fleeting love that cannot last?” Her voice softened, but the steel remained. “This affair... it must end, Calliope.”

“She deserves it,” Calliope whispered, her voice barely audible, her pride still clinging to the remnants of defiance. Her sisters exchanged glances, even Euterpe, Melpomene, Thalia, Terpsichore, Urania who let the older ones guide the conversation, sitting on the side, realized with the exhausted sigh of Poly. They were no longer listening to her as a sister, but as a threat to their way of life.

Clio stepped forward, her eyes hard. If love and gentleness didn’t resolve, maybe rationality would. “And what of us, Calliope? What do we deserve? The wrath of the Queen of Four Loves for your defiance?”

The muses all knew what that meant. Lady Love’s sisters, the Ladies of Emotion, were known throughout the realms for their beauty, gracefulness, the embodiment of every form of feeling— They were good sisters, and loving nieces to the Aunts, but they were also known for their ruthless and unforgiving nature. Each had their way of exacting revenge. Honesty and Pride were quick to act when their husbands strayed, they had a tendency for the drama, crafting the bloodiest violent scenes as lessons to their husband.

Not that it worked, as their husbands were equally kin on bloodshed, feeling more proud and enticed by their wives. It is what Lady Honesty called “games of love”. Melancholy and Happiness had more long-term provoked suffering, playing with the lovers' emotion until they themselves ended their lives. Love didn’t agree with her sisters, and they would often fight when it came to discussion. Love used to say that they should punish their husbands for the infidelity, not the affairs they search for. Her sisters always disdain her opinion, saying that she would understand when she got a husband of their own.

Eoster promised herself to her if it ever came to infidelity, she would punish her husband and hold no ill against their lover. But more than often she broke that promise, and hated Calliope and referred to her by despicable names when fighting with Morpheus. Eoster knew it would elicit a reaction from him, she would have his attention, and after she hated herself for it, to reach so low, and found herself wanting her husband to defend her honor against the gossip and awful whispers that called her frigid and unfit, as he defended Calliope’s to her. But even in her lowest moments, Aphrodite never thought to resort to her sisters’ tricks and games. The muses however couldn’t know this, they couldn’t be certain, and they couldn’t risk it. It was for Calliope's own good and survival.

“If Lady Love chooses to punish you…,” Clio said, her voice now edged with fear, “She may be softer, but do not think her heart will remain unscathed by your defiance. She may not draw blood as Pride and Honesty do, but she can withhold her blessings, and with them, the very inspiration that keeps us alive.” Calliope’s sisters feared not just for her, but for themselves. They could not afford to anger the Queen of Love, the one who controlled mortal desires, the very prayers that sustained the Muses’ power.

Polyhymnia’s eyes hardened, her voice unwavering. “The mortals pray to us because they are moved by Love, Calliope. The songs, the poems, the art—it all begins with her. And if she turns away from them, if she takes away that spark… what would become of us?”

Calliope’s heart sank. She knew the weight of those words. Without the prayers, without the devotion of mortals, the Muses would fade. And it was all tied to Love, the queen whose influence stretched farther than even they could see.

“Oneiros won’t allow her. He promised me…” Calliope began, but her words sounded hollow even to her.

“Promised you?” Clio cut her off with a cold laugh. “What good are his promises when our very existence hangs in the balance? He will protect his queen, his soul, not you. You are a passing affair. She wears the crown.”

Polyhymnia stepped forward, her voice firm but tinged with sorrow. “You must understand, Calliope. This is not just about you or your heart. This is about all of us. We cannot risk losing everything for the sake of your… infatuation.”

Tears welled in Calliope’s eyes, but this time, they were not born of anger. They were tears of realization, of betrayal. Her sisters—her family—were not standing by her out of love or concern for her well-being. They were protecting themselves, preserving their own power.

Melpomene with her melodic voice, spoke for the first time, without directly facing Calliope, her tone different from all the others, she didn’t seem like to be talking directly to them, but to an invisible audience preaching a prophecy, her voice was distant “When push comes to shove, he will have one choice only. And she is the one sitting by his side, wearing his crown. She is, and always will be, his queen.”

Calliope looked at each of them, searching for a sign that they still cared for her, that their words came from love. But all she saw was fear—fear for their power, for their survival. They used the worry for her as an excuse to veil their desire of self preservation. The bond they shared, as muses, as sisters, had been broken, replaced by cold practicality.

She stood, feeling the sting of betrayal heavier than the slap across her cheek. She had lost her sisters.

—------------------ Calliope sat at the edge of the bed, her thoughts swirling as heavily as the storm outside the window. Her fingers rested on her belly, a gentle gesture, yet one laden with uncertainty. The Three stood before her, their dark chitons contrasting sharply against her pale gown, their presence an embodiment of fate and finality.

“My child,” the Mother began, her voice both tender and admonishing, “I feel for your tears, but you were warned. You were advised against this.”

Calliope had hesitated to summon them, but the silence of her sisters and the weight of her secret had driven her to desperation. She could no longer bear the burden alone. Weeks had passed without her monthly bleeding, and as the truth of her condition settled in, fear took its place. Oneiros had to know—yet how? How could she speak of the life growing inside her when the very act of creating it was shrouded in betrayal?

She could almost see the dream she once had, seemingly a lifetime ago, before the complications. Calliope watches them from the window from the same bedroom she sat now. A child wrapped in Morpheus’s arms, eyes like the starry skies of the Dreaming, cherished by the Lord of Dreams, as Morpheus would cradle him with the same tenderness he once held for her. How Morpheus would love him, their child, his child. She knew that, just as surely as she knew the stars would continue to shine. A father of stories would fill their child’s nights with tales of the Dreaming. In another life, perhaps, it would be a perfect future. But perfection, Calliope now knew, was fragile.

“It is the last time,” said the Crone, disapproval dripping from her lips as if she had already judged Calliope’s heart. “That is what she said, the last time,” echoed the Maiden, sitting beside Calliope and placing a compassionate arm around her shoulders.

Every breath Calliope took seemed to make the room smaller, as though the air itself was pushing in on her. “Please, my mothers, what shall I do? I crave your guidance.” A blessing it should be. A blessing that belongs only in that perfect life in her dream life.

Because the moment the universe learned of this child, the whispers, and gossip would become insufferable. A scandal, which according to Oneiros, was all that Love wanted to avoid. The Lady of Love herself floated through socials with her sweet, brittle smile and gentle manners. But a child would be different. No amount of feigned ignorance or public pleasantries would quell the storm that would follow.

Calliope knew little of Eoster beyond her public mask—preaching love, displaying polite affection for her husband, always by his side, with her hand holding his arm, in a way that grated on Calliope’s nerves. She expected to see a fracture in her facade or regret, but the Lady of Springs was always composed. In private, Eoster was miserable; Calliope knew this. And yet, despite her misery, the queen had never directly harmed her. She didn’t torture her by any means. But could she trust that?

Eoster might not harm the child, but Calliope didn’t know that. What guarantees did she have, besides Morpheus' word?

And worse— She could see the future as clearly as she could feel the weight in her womb—Morpheus loving their child, yes, but unable to silence the outside judgment. He could not protect him from the scorn of entities, nor from the cruelty of his own family. What would be his place in the universe? The opinion of others might not be relevant to the Dream King, but to a child, it might shape their future.

“I see it,” Calliope whispered, her voice trembling. “I see the life we could have. The child would be so adored by his father, loved as no child could dream to be loved. But...”

Her voice faltered as the weight of the decision pressed down upon her.”My mothers, What would you have me do?” She repeat the question, craving for an answer, for an solution made by others. If she kept the child, he would be a source of joy, but also a source of endless conflict. Their son would grow up knowing he was not entirely welcome, his very existence a reminder of the broken vows of a True Marriage. Would Eoster ever allow Calliope’s child to feel love? Or would she punish him by devoiding him from the feeling? An empty shell, never satisfied, never knowing what is missing.

“It is not a question of what we would have you do,” replied the Mother, her expression softening as she seated herself beside Calliope. “It is a question of what your heart will allow.”

Calliope’s gaze fell to the small cup in the Crone’s hands. The tea was warm, fragrant, almost inviting. “Poppy for a dreamless sleep,” said the Mother. “Peony and safflower to ease your pains, and honey to sweeten the bitterness.”

She stared at the cinnamon-colored liquid, her heart pounding in her chest. How easy it would be—just a sip, and the terrible weight that had settled in her bones would lift. Maybe in a few decades she would tell him. What would he think of her then? Morpheus would forgive her, embrace her, soothe her pain, but beneath that forgiveness would always lie a wound—a wound that would never heal, because she had taken away something he would have loved beyond all measure. He would always feel betrayed, even if he never said it aloud.

The Maiden’s voice broke her thoughts. “What pains you now will not pain you any longer.”

But Calliope’s hands were already trembling. Could she live knowing that she had denied her child the life he could have had, the father who would have adored him, all because she feared entities whose whole lives revolve around gossiping and whispering lies? Could she truly carry on, lying beside him, pretending as though nothing had happened?

She looked at the tea again, the weight of her decision pressing down harder with every passing second. She imagined again her child in Morpheus’s arms, the life they could share together. But then the universe’s whispers crept in—the cruel, cutting judgments, the sarcastic jokes and mean laughs, the reminders that their love was hurting love itself.

The Mother’s voice broke through her thoughts, gentle yet firm. “A child can be a blessing.”

“And a curse,” added the Crone, her tone far less comforting. “What the Dream Lord gives to one, he denies to another.” Calliope closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She had made her choice, though the weight of it bore heavily on her heart. “I will talk to Oneiros,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The Three exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. The Mother spoke softly. “Guard your heart, for his answer may not be what you wish it to be.”

“And yet,” the Maiden added, “perhaps it will be.”

Calliope swallowed hard, fear and hope warring within her. Whatever path she chose, it was clear: there would be no peace. Whether she kept the child or ended its life, the scars would remain forever. Yet one thing she knew—she could not bear the weight of this choice alone. Morpheus had to know, and together they would face whatever came.

But the final words from the Three echoed loudest of all, chilling her to the bone. “Remember dear Calliope, if you keep this child, it will never be entirely only your son. It belongs to the Dreaming, and tragedy follows the Dream King.”

—------------------ They had a home, the Dream King and Calliope. It wasn't a palace, like the one in the Dreaming or the one in the Garden. It was a quiet home nestled within a secluded glade, where the trees whispered ancient secrets, and the light filtered through leaves in soft, golden dapples. It was their escape from both their realities. And Calliope and Morpheus were content there, the best they could, taking the circumstances. The land around them was pastoral, untouched by time—wildflowers spilled across the meadow, and a gentle stream wound lazily through the valley. It was a place that seemed to belong more to myth than reality, where dreams and reality blurred together, a sanctuary for their love.

In the early days, the thought of ending her pregnancy had never truly surfaced in their conversation. Calliope’s worry were clouded by the unexpected emotion by her so often introspective king. Morpheus had cradled her growing belly with tender reverence, his dark eyes softened by the love he felt for the life within her. Orpheus grew in their little bubble, they had built dreams of their son, untarnished by the harshness of the universe beyond. And Calliope had been cherished, adored by the Lord of Dreams as if nothing else mattered.

But no child can be forever protected, and Orpheus grew into a fine gentleman, and gifted of music. He was enamored by life and nature, and soon, against his mother’s wishes, started to frequent socials, only from the greek pantheon, which Aphrodite was usually absent. His charisma and harmonic voice, inherited from his mother, soon made him a dear guest at any greek social. Both Calliope and Morpheus forbade him from going to any universal manifestation meeting. Until one day his eyes turned to a girl that always ran way, but in early spring, decided to stay longer than usual, to celebrate the spring solstice and the good fortune that came from mortal’s abundant harvest.

And from a young love, the promised tragedy came.

“I am going to kill her!” Calliope's voice, raw from endless weeping, cracked with a fierce determination as Morpheus appeared, his presence still and impenetrable as ever. Her face was gaunt, cheeks hollow from the toll grief had taken. She had not truly slept since Orpheus' death, haunted by the cruel fate that had befallen her son.

Morpheus stood there, watching her, his expression unchanged—a figure wrapped in shadows, the weight of the Dreaming ever present in his silence.

“My beloved, calm down,” he said, his voice low, distant. But the words felt empty to her, hollow like the chasm now carved into her heart.

“Calm down? She killed him, Morpheus!” Calliope’s fists clenched, her eyes wild with fury. “She used that girl—Eurydice! She took him from us on the day of their wedding, trapped him in darkness. Our dear boy…”she wailed, her voice thick with sorrow. “He will hate the Underworld. He loved the sun, the earth, the very breath of life. And now... now, he is lost, forever entrapped, his soul, his poor soul.” Her sobs broke free again, as though the tears would never end.

Morpheus said nothing. He simply held her, as he had done countless times before, letting the storm of her grief rage while he remained the silent center. Rain began to fall in the Dreaming, clouds swirling above, a reflection of Calliope’s inner torment. He, however, was removed from it. His thoughts drifted to the Garden, to the figure of Love, serene in her eternal role, utterly unaware of this grief. He hadn’t seen Eoster in what felt like an age. The thought of her, oddly, surfaced now, perhaps jealousy of her unremarkable week. The bond was quiet, it has been for a few thousand of years.

Calliope’s tear-streaked face turned up toward him. “Promise me you will bring her to justice. Promise me that you will make her pay.” Morpheus’ eyes darkened. “Calliope... Eoster had nothing to do with this.”

“How can you be so sure?!” Her voice broke with disbelief. “There was a mortal girl, Morpheus. He followed her because he loved her. Loved, Morpheus. Does that sound familiar to you?”

He averted his gaze, jaw tight. “I warned him. I told him not to pursue Eurydice.”

“And that is all you have to say?” Her voice trembled with rising anger. “You warned him?” She scoffed bitterly. “She despised him. She despised me. Her sisters, her aunts, her cupids, her circle of protégés—they all called him a bastard behind your back, they shunned your son. Who do you think allowed that?”

“They needed no permission to behave as they did. Eoster does not control them any more than I can control the tides of time. She would not—”

“Why are you defending her?” Calliope’s voice was raw with accusation. “Orpheus’ blood is barely cold, and you’re here defending her! Why are you not feeling this? Why are you not seeking justice for your own flesh and blood? He was your son!”

Morpheus’ voice hardened, though his expression barely shifted. “Do not mistake my restraint for indifference. I grieve our son. But I will not be ruled by madness.” “Madness?” she spat. “Is that what you call a mother’s grief?” Her breath caught as she trembled. “How can you be so... How can you not see that she is responsible for this?”

His voice was ice, unyielding. “Eoster would never harm a child. She is the queen of love, of family. She would not break her vows so easily.”

Calliope's laughter came sharp and bitter. “Easily?” She whipped a tear from the side of her eye” Wouldn’t be the first time she’s bent her ‘sacred vows’ to get what she wants.”

A brief flicker of emotion crossed Morpheus’ face—something too fleeting to grasp. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself in the calm he always maintained. “Do not speak of what you don��t understand.” It was difficult to explain the bond, how he could be certain that Eoster had nothing to do with it. How he could vouch for her innocence even after years of not seeing her. How he knew her nature even if he didn’t properly know his wife as one often does.

“No. You’re right. I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can stand there defending her—defending the woman who has scorned us since the day of that accursed marriage, who has despised your son from the moment of his birth.”

Silence.

Something dark and cold settled in her gaze as she looked at him.”Oh, I see” Calliope let out a sharp, mirthless laugh, one that sent shivers through the cold air. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Her voice dropped to a low, venomous whisper. “That’s why you don’t care. She’s carrying your heir—your legitimate heir.” Morpheus’ brow furrowed, his face set like stone. “Calliope, that is not—”

“That’s why!” she cried, interrupting him, voice rising in hysteria. “That’s why you defend her! You have a new child to look forward to, a new legacy to secure. You won’t accuse the mother of your ‘legitimate’ heir, will you?”

His voice, usually a command in the realms of dream and reality, faltered for the briefest of moments. “Do you hear yourself? I know you are in pain, but do not twist this into something it is not.”

Her eyes blazed. “When push comes to shove, you’ll have only one choice.”

“What?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but filled with a deep, unspoken sorrow.

“You’ll choose her. The one wearing the crown. Sitting by your side.” Calliope’s voice was cold now, final.

Morpheus moved closer, trying to reach her with words, with a touch—but she recoiled.

“Get out,” she demanded, her voice barely audible.

“Calliope, please...”

“Get out!” she screamed, her face twisted in grief, in rage.

Morpheus stood there, the weight of centuries pressing down on him, but his expression remained impassive. He gave a small nod, turned, and walked away.

Even as the pocket sand wrapped him, Calliope’s heartache echoed through the emptiness, and Morpheus was left to face the terrible truth—he could not bridge the gap between them. She would always hate him, see him as the one who could not protect their child.

And somewhere in the depths of his silence, he knew she was right.

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya @notyourwildestdream @roxytheimmortal

#the sandman #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless fanfic #morpheus x reader #morpheus x wife #morpheus x ofc #dream of the endless x reader #lord morpheus #eoster #queen of love #sandman netflix #what dreams know about love?#dream of the endless #tom sturridge #the sandman masterlist

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roguelov · 2 months ago

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AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HONEY WHY YOU GOTTA ALWAYS WRITE STUFF SO CUTE AND HOT AT THE SAME TIME???!!!! YOURE KILLIN ME!!!!!!!!!!

NOT MORPHEUS BEING A DENSE ROCK AT FIRST 🤣🤣🤣 AND PLEASE LET ME GNAW ON HIM I WISH TO MARK HIM SO BADLY

… and also my lovely Gilbert please no talking from the peanut gallery I know we waltzed in but I would also not want to hear anything for you even if you twist it all nice and romantic 😳😂

𓅨 Beneath the Moon's Watch

Beneath the Moon's Watch: Bored out of your mind, you decide to pay Fiddler’s Green a visit.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: Morpheus x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~5.4k

You lounge on a divan in the grand hall of the palace, your eyes tracing the intricate stained glass woven into the ceiling. The Dreaming is as surreal as always, a place where reality bends to whim and desire, where the rules of the waking world do not apply. Where your every dream comes true. Yet, even in this magnificent realm, boredom has a way of creeping in. Your boyfriend, Morpheus, the lord of dreams, is busy attending to his endless duties, leaving you to your own devices.

You sigh and shift your position, trying to find some spark of interest in your surroundings. The strained glass overhead has grown tedious after watching it for an hour, dreams, nightmares, and the palace staff are all off doing their duties. Even Matthew is indisposed!

Oh you can’t be this bored, could you?

Your head drops over the padded end of the divan and you let your hair dangle down to the marble floor. Oh you definitely are this bored.

"I am going to die of boredom," You sigh dramatically, throwing an arm over your eyes. The words echo through the grand hall, but there is no response. You peek out from under your arm, half hoping that Morpheus might appear, his presence breaking the monotony. But the hall remains pitifully empty, its vastness swallowing your voice.

You drop your arm and stare at the ceiling again, tracing the intricate stained glass patterns with your eyes. Maybe you should get into stained glass making? How hard could it be? Who are you kidding. You rise from the divan, determination welling within you. If Morpheus can't rescue you from boredom, you'll have to take matters into your own hands. A spark of excitement ignites in your heart. You hadn't visited Fiddler's Green recently! You skip across the grand hall, your steps echoing off the marble floor and vast walls. The first pep in your step in hours.

As you make your way out of the grand hall, the echo of your footsteps seems to amplify the silence around you. You try not to think about how alone you feel when Morpheus is busy. Instead, you focus on what new places that awaits you in Fiddler's Green. The arcana is always changing things up for you, varying the type of forest you might encounter or the specific blooms you might see. Tropical, Mountainous, Subsaharan… Upon exiting the palace, the realm warps around you and places you at the edge of Fiddler's Green.

"Thanks!" You call out over your shoulder to the realm, knowing full well that it didn't have to assist you in getting around the realm when it had more important things to do. A breeze flutters your hair in response and you smile. Oh you love the realm just as much as you love Morpheus.

Ahead of you lays a group of flowering bushes near some trees and you decide to see if the flowers are as fragrant as they look. Each flower seems to glow light, their hues shifting subtly as you approach and you catch a lovely scent wafting your way. The scent is intoxicating, a blend of sweet and spicy notes that makes you close your eyes and breathe deeply. When you are close enough you reach out to touch one of the blooms, feeling the softness of the petals under your fingertips. You swear you've never seen these types of flowers before and furrow your brow.

"I wonder what type of flowers these are," You muse, your fingers the vibrant red curls.

"It is the carolina allspice," Gilbert disembodied voices says. You look up to the canopy above you despite knowing that you wouldn't physically see the major arcana.

"Gil," you call out, a smile spreading across your face. While the major arcana's official name was Fiddler's Green, you prefer the name he went by when in human form: Gilbert, or Gil for short. "It's been too long."

"Indeed, it has," Gilbert responds, a hint of amusement in his tone. "You seem to be in need of some adventure."

You laugh softly, nodding. "You always know. Morpheus is busy, as usual, and I was dying of boredom."

"Ah, boredom in the Dreaming, a rare but serious affliction," Gilbert says, his voice now sounding closer. "Come, I have something to show you."

A path opens up before you, the foliage parting to reveal a narrow trail winding deeper into the forest. You follow it, excitement quickly replacing your earlier boredom. The air grows warmer, and the light takes on a golden hue as you venture further. After a short while, the path opens up into a breathtaking clearing. At the center of the clearing lies a lake, its surface perfectly still, reflecting the sky and surrounding trees like a giant mirror. The water is crystal clear, with patches of lilies floating gracefully on the surface. The scene is so tranquil and beautiful that it takes your breath away. Which given what you have been exposed to while dating Morpheus, is a feat.

"Welcome to the Lake of Serenity," Gilbert says, his voice now seeming to emanate from all around you. Like he is standing in the clearing with you.

"Lake of Serenity?" You repeat, your head tilting as you think the name is fitting. You walk towards the edge of the lake, the soft grass cushioning your steps. A perfect napping spot really. The water looks inviting, and you feel an overwhelming sense of calm wash over you. Oh yes, definitely a lake of serenity. You decide to sit down on a large, smooth rock at the water's edge and dip your fingers into the cool water. Even the water feels serene!

"This is perfect," you sigh, closing your eyes and letting the tranquility of the lake whisk away your boredom. "I've been restless since arriving with Morpheus so busy… but now, now I just feel at peace."

"Take your time, relax, Miss Y/N. I am sure you will feel rejuvenated in no time." Feeling the weight of your boredom and restlessness lift from your shoulders, you lie down on the soft grass beside the lake. The ground is warm from the sun, and a gentle breeze brushes over you, carrying the sweet scent of the surrounding flowers. When you close your eyes the sounds of nature combined with the floral scent of flowers lulls you into peaceful slumber.

The sun has set while you slept, and the forest around you is now alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. The moonlight casts a silver sheen over the lake, transforming it into a shimmering mirror that reflects the star-filled sky above. Yet another view that takes your breath away. Sitting up, you brace your hands on the soft grass behind you and admire the mirrored stars on the surface of the lake.

Your earlier boredom has become a distant memory, replaced with contentedness and a renewed sense of mischief. Rolling your neck and stretching out our limbs, you get to your feet and look around, knowing that with the fall of the sun and rise of the moon, the greenery will have changed.

The lilies dotting the surface of the lake have closed their petals in slumber, and the green plants that trimmed the far side of the lake now have full blooms, shimmering an iridescent white. You had explored Fiddler's Green at night before, but this was all a new experience for you. You crouch at the edge of the lake, swirling your fingers through the water when a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

"Boss Lady! You there?" You look over your shoulder and up to the sky, seeing Matthew fluttering down to perch on a low-hanging branch. "I have been looking for you everywhere!"

You smile at the sight of the raven, his usual demeanor tinged with a mix of relief and exasperation. Poor Matthew has probably been sent to check on you by Morpheus. "I'm here, Matthew. Just enjoying the beauty of the night."

Matthew hops closer on the branch, his beady eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Morpheus has been worried. You know how he gets when he can't find you."

You chuckle softly, standing up and brushing off your clothes. "I know, I know. I'll head back soon. But look at this place, Matthew. Isn't it magical?"

The raven cocks his head, glancing around the beautiful lake and flora. "Yeah, it is pretty nice. But you should really let someone know where you're going next time. It would save me a lot of flying around."

"Noted," you reply before a mischievous idea suddenly takes hold of you. "Matthew," you say with a devious grin, "I think I'm going to go for a swim."

The raven looks at you, tilting his head and not liking the tone in your voice. You have a proclivity for shenanigans on occasion. "A swim? Now?"

"Why not?" you reply, already starting to unbutton your shirt. "The water looks so inviting."

"Wait, what?" Matthew squawks, his feathers ruffling in alarm. "You can't—what if someone sees you? Morpheus would lose his mind if a dream or nightmare happened upon you naked! You should just, I don't know, magic yourself a bathing suit! Why are you getting undressed!?"

You can't help but laugh at Matthew's panic. "Magic myself a bathing suit? Where's the fun in that?" you tease, your fingers deftly working the buttons on your shirt. "Besides, it's just me out here. We'll be fine."

"But I'm here!" Matthew cries, flaps his wings in panic and hopping from one foot to the other on his perch. When he starts to see your bra he quickly blocks his vision with his wing, covering his face. "I'm serious, Y/N! Morpheus is very particular about your safety. This is not going to go over well! You know what happened last time!"

Quite distinctly, actually. You still weren't going to change your mind.

Ignoring his protests, you pull off your pants and wiggle yourself out of your bra and underwear. Then you pad your way into the cool and inviting water, sighing as water washes over your skin with a delightful feeling. You wade in deeper until you're fully submerged and turn yourself around to look back at Matthew. He is still panicking, but now fluttering around and casting anxious glances around the forest from the grass, look anywhere but at you.

"This is a bad idea," he mutters. "A really bad idea..."

"Relax, Matthew," you call back, letting the water buoy you. "It's just a nice swim. What's the worst that could happen, I'm in the dreaming…"

Just as the words leave your mouth, you hear a rustling in the nearby bushes. Matthew lets out a panicked squawk and flutters up to a higher branch. "See? See!? Someone's coming!"

You look towards the sound, expecting Gilbert to appear. But emerging from the shadows is not the serene figure of the major arcana. Instead, it's Morpheus, his pale face framed by his wild dark hair. He blinks in surprise, hardly expecting you to be naked in the middle of Fiddler's Green.

"Matthew, why is my beloved naked in the lake?" Morpheus' voice is calm, but you can sense the underlying tension. Not to mention confusion.

Matthew flutters nervously, his feathers ruffled in agitation. "I tried to stop her, boss! She wouldn't listen to me and just started stripping!"

Morpheus’ eyes shift from Matthew, to the clothes you had discarded, and then to you, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Why are you swimming naked in the lake?" he asks, clearly perplexed.

You can’t help but giggle at the situation. "It's called skinny dipping, Morpheus. It's a way of enjoying the water. It’s quite fun and liberating."

Morpheus tilts his head, clearly not understanding this human custom. "But why without clothes? A bathing suit? What purpose does it serve?"

You smile, a playful glint in your eye. "Well, it's about feeling free and close to nature. The sensation of the water against your skin is... unique. And it's also a bit naughty, don’t you think?" you add with a wink.

Morpheus' expression remains serious. Oh your boyfriend isn't this dense is he? "Naughty?"

You chuckle, moving closer to the shore but staying submerged. "Oh yes, naughty. There's a certain thrill to it, being exposed, feeling the cool water everywhere. It’s a bit of an adventure, a bit of a secret."

Morpheus seems to consider this, his brows furrowing slightly. You decide to push your point home with a bit more innuendo. "You know, it's not just about the swim. It's about the freedom, the exhilaration... and sometimes, it's fun to share that with someone special."

Morpheus only blinked once, staring you in your naked state and subtle smirk, down, before saying, "Matthew, return to the palace."

It finally clicked.

"But, boss—" Matthew starts to protest, his voice tinged with anxiety.

"Now, Matthew," Morpheus commands, his eyes not leaving yours once. A light bulb appears to go off in Matthew's head and the poor raven can't scramble out of the clearing fast enough.

"I'm out! I am out!!" The raven calls, his wings flapping in a flurry of feathers, his own mind connecting the dots. This is not something he wishes to see. With Matthew gone, the night grows still, the only sounds being the gentle lapping of the water against the shore and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. Morpheus steps closer to the edge of the lake, his intense gaze fixed on you. The moonlight casts a silver glow upon your skin, giving you an ethereal look that the endless drinks in.

"Skinny dipping," he repeats, as if testing the words on his tongue. "Humans have such intriguing customs."

"Care to join me?" you say with an arc of your eyebrow and curve of your lips. "I'm rather lonely at the moment."

He doesn't reply to your question, his eyes taking on an intense predatory look. You watch as Morpheus slowly begins to remove his clothes. Any other person would question why he didn't just dismiss his clothes with his sand, he has done so before… but Morpheus has long since learned you like a show because it gives you time to appreciate.

He starts with his long, star lined jacket, shrugging it from his shoulders and revealing the downy soft grey shirt beneath. The coat disappears in a wave of sand while your eyes are transfixed on lithe fingers plucking at the hem of his shirt. You flicker your gaze up to his eyes, telling him to continue with but a mere twitch of your lips. And so he does.

His fingers grasp his shirt, lifting it slowly. You watch, mesmerized, as more of his pale, smooth skin is revealed. The fabric slides up over his toned abdomen, his chest, and then over his shoulders. When you see the column of his glimmering neck your mouth grows dry as you long to sink your teeth into his flesh. Every movement is deliberate, a sensual dance that has your heart pounding with anticipation. One that leaves you desperate and needy. When the shirt finally clears his head, he lets it fall to the ground, where it dissolves into a fine mist.

Standing before you, bare-chested in the moonlight, Morpheus looks almost ethereal. The light plays over the contours of his muscles, highlighting the lines of his collarbones and the smooth expanse of his chest. There is a raw beauty to him, a timeless elegance that never ceases to captivate you. And his hip bones, sharp and beautifully curved, they make your entire body throb with want.

Morpheus' hands move to the button of his jeans, and you hold your breath, anticipation building in your chest. With one leisurely motion, he unfastens them and slowly slides the zipper down. A sharp lance of electricity explodes from your cunt as pushes his pants down his legs, revealing his cock and then legs. Your eyes ever so briefly dip to his calves which you have always been envious of. Okay maybe not envious, but certainly you worship them for your boyfriend is a Grecian masterpiece.

Morpheus stands before you in all his naked glory, his pale, flawless skin glowing in the moonlight. Barren from the marks of love you so cherished to give. You can't help but admire the way his muscles ripple beneath his skin, the perfect balance of strength and grace that is the very essence of Morpheus.

He steps into the water, the cool liquid lapping at his ankles as he wades in. The sight of him, perfectly naked and wet, sends quivers of desire through your body. You shift your body, sending ripples through the water as your skin tingles with anticipation, every nerve longing for his touch.

Morpheus moves closer to you, the intensity of his gaze is almost too much to bear, and you find yourself holding your breath as he closes the distance between you. When he's close enough, Morpheus reaches out and brushes his fingers against your cheek, the gentle touch sending a quiver through your entire body.

"You are beautiful," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the water, the words carried on a breath of reverence and awe. His words send a wave of pleasure coursing through you, and you can't help but lean into his touch, seeking more of his warmth and affection.

"So are you," you echo, your eyes sparkling with happiness as you reach for his free hand with your own. As your fingers weave together, Morpheus trails the fingers of his other hand down your neck, over your collarbone, and along the curve of your breast before sliding to cradle your back. When he pulls you again his body, you gasp at the sensations that erupt between your bodies. Warm, cool, everything you adore. Your body responds to his every movement, craving more of his touch, more of his warmth.

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You can feel his breath on your trembling mouth, the warm air sending ripples of pleasurable tingles across your lips. Tilting your head back, you look up at him, your eyes reflecting the pure love you hold for him.

"Thank you for spending time with me," you whisper to him, giving his fingers a squeeze as your lips give him an appreciative smile. "I know you are busy."

"I will never be too busy for you, beloved," he replies, his face closing in on yours. You are nearly drowning in his silver-blue gaze. Then Morpheus closes the minuscule distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. You stretch up onto your toes, wrapping your arm around his neck and flicking your tongue across his addicting lips to demand entrance.

He responds immediately, his lips parting to deepen the kiss, letting your tongue search for his. His hands slide down your back, pulling you closer until there is no space between you. The cool water laps against your bodies, a sharp contrast to the heat of your embrace. His tongue meets yours in a dance that is both tender and urgent, exploring, tasting, savoring each moment.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as the kiss intensifies, the world around you fading into insignificance. Every touch, every caress sends waves of desire coursing through you. You know the extent of his love, his adoration, but still, you miss him every second he is gone. Morpheus' hand moves to your waist, his fingers tracing the curves of your body, fueling fire with each gentle stroke.

The heat between you builds, and you can feel the tension rising, the desire for more consuming you both. Morpheus' hands roam your body, exploring every part of your skin as if he can't get enough. Knowing him, he never will. The water lapping at your bodies is a stark contrast to the flames of passion that burn like hellfire, both of you consumed by an insatiable hunger for each other.

Feeling the burn, Morpheus cradles your body and moves so you are in the middle of the lake, you bodies floating effortlessly. He kisses you deeply once more, making sure to indulge in the ecstasy of your lips and tongue. Breaking apart, you have a few moments to stare into each other's eyes, lost in the depths of love and adoration that swirls within them.

Morpheus begins to trail kisses down your neck then along your collarbone, and across the swell of your breasts. His fingers dance across your skin, every touch blooming torturous pleasure that makes you shudder and softly moan in his embrace.

Your fingers tangle in his hair once more, urging him on as his mouth closes around one nipple, teasing and suckling until you arch your back in bliss, thrusting your breast into his mouth. The water laps at your wait, creating a unique symphony of pleasure as Morpheus moves to lavish attention on your other breast. The sighs and sweet moans that depart your lips feed the endless being’s ministrations until he desires more than just precious sounds. He wants you to squirm in uncontrolled ecstasy. A sight that he finds most beautiful.

So Morpheus’ hands slide down your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips before finding the apex of your thighs. Gently, he parts your legs, his fingers trickling across your inner thighs in a teasing manner before finding your folds and dragging his index fingers through the middle. You exhale a sharp breath, feeling his touch linger on your clit. Taunting you.

You curl your nails into his scalp, tugging on midnight strands as Morpheus' fingers continue to trickle along your most sensitive spots. His touch is feather-light, making you softly jerk with each gentle stroke. You can feel the tension building within you, even with such delicate touches.

Morpheus' fingers slide lower, teasing at your entrance before slipping inside. You moan, your head dropping back as your back arches and your fingernails rake at his scalp. With a soft yet pleased chuckle, Morpheus begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you in a slow and more than torturous rhythm. Beneath the softly rippling water, your body squirms at his touch, responding eagerly to his every movement, feeding his hunger for your pleasure.

“Oh gods,” you gasp out, your breaths now coming in ragged bursts as Morpheus continues his ministrations, his fingers expertly pleasuring you while his cock throbs against your thigh. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel yourself nearing the edge of ecstasy. Tears begin to prickle at the corners of your eyes and Morpheus brings his lips to your extended neck, his soft hair tickling your jaw as he coaxes you with delicate kisses against your throat. When your thighs begin to shake, Morpheus increases his pace, his fingers moving faster and harder until your muscles clench his fingers and thighs twist against his wrist.

You are so close to an orgasm, your body coiling tighter and tighter as you edge closer to release. He knows your body better than anyone, and with each touch, he brings you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. He can perform a symphony with but a few tender and well placed strokes! So when his pace backs off and the cusp of your orgasm disipates, you nearly cry in frustration at his cruelness.

"Morpheus," you gasp with a whine, your voice barely audible above the water's gentle lapping. "I need... I need..."

He looks at your pleading gaze, his silver-blue eyes filled with love and desire. "Tell me," he whispers, running his lips along your inflamed flesh.

"I need you inside me," you moan, your hips bucking as you seek out the connection you crave. "please, I crave you—“

Before you even finish begging to him he is moving, keeping one hand wrapped around back, Morpheus takes his cock in hand and runs it through your folds, enjoying the way you shiver and tremble. After the brief pause of Morpheus' cock running through your folds, a searing heat surges within you as he gently enters you, filling you with his thickness. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as your body adjusts to his size, the water lapping against your skin as he pulls back and thrusts into you again.

His thrust are slow at first, allowing you to savor the feeling of being completely filled by him. You wrap your legs around his, pulling him closer and pressing your pelvis as close to his as you can. You adore the way his skin feels against yours. Your fingers curl into the hard planes of his back, urging him on as he thrusts into you with increasing fervor.

With each powerful stroke, you feel yourself growing closer to the edge of ecstasy. Morpheus' gaze finds yours as you breathe heavily against his lips, his eye filled with a mixture of love, desire, and raw hunger. The sight of him, his face etched with passion, sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through your body.

Your walls clench and thighs quiver.

When your lips part to let out a loud moan, Morpheus silences you with a searing kiss. His tongue tangles with yours with ravenous hunger and insatiable desire, his hips slapping against your wet flesh. Letting out a soft whine that is instantly smothered, your nails sink into his back and you rake them across his flesh.

You feel your orgasm building deep within you, and you know that Morpheus can sense it too. He quickens his pace, his movements growing ever more urgent as he seeks his own release. The tension within your body tightens until your entire body is shaking, and you just know that your on the brink of shattering. His next thrust hits a spot deep within your body that breaks the tension and floods your body with unadulterated pleasure.

You arch your back, crying out his name as your orgasm crashes over you, a wave of pure bliss that rocks your entire body. Your muscles clench around him, milking him for all he’s worth as you ride the crest of pleasure. He runs his mouth along your breasts and neck, laying down kisses and love bites, all the while maintaining his thrusts through your orgasm.

The sensations are overwhelming, each kiss and bite sending shivers of ecstasy through you. His pace remains steady and controlled, his own desire evident in every powerful thrust. As your climax begins to wane, you feel him nearing his own release, the tension of his muscles beneath your fingers and thighs apparent. But rather than take his own release as you expect Morpheus pulls out of you, his cock still hard and throbbing. Your eyes fly open with a mixture of confusion and desire, wondering why he stopped. But then you see the mischievous glint in his eyes, and you realize that he has other plans in mind.

Wouldn’t be the first time…

Morpheus lifts you up with one arm, his other hand landing on your ass and sliding down the back of your thigh. With your body draped within his grasp, he carries you away from the deep end of the lake and towards the grass. You shiver as your inflamed, wet skin is exposed to the air and clutch yourself tighter to his chest.

“Morpheus,” you softly groan, much to his amusement. He chuckles at you and lays you down gently on the soft, dew-covered grass.

“Have patience, my beloved,” he purrs as his hands glide over your hips and legs. Morpheus’ fingers pluck at your thigh for but a few moments before he maneuvers your leg over his shoulders.

His gaze meets yours, and you're captivated by the intensity in his eyes. His stars burn so brightly for you this night they are almost blinding. Slowly, painfully slowly, he slides his thick cock back into your waiting cunt at an agonizing pace. A rather pathetic whimper slips from your lips and Morpheus drinks that previous sound from your lips like it is ambrosia.

He begins to thrust, his hips moving with a rhythm that makes you feel each and every push against your fluttering walls. The sensation of his cock filling you is like a lulling tide. Only it grows stronger with every draw. It is almost too much to bear and you find yourself arching your back, desperate for more. Mid gasp for air, Morpheus' lips descend back to yours and kisses you with such possessive hunger that your mind goes blank. All you can think is how you want more. And you go and take.

The heel of the leg he has thrown over his shoulder digs into his back and you make your arm join, raking your nails along the hard plane of his shoulder. Pretty little lines of red along stardust skin. The sound of your passionate union fills the air, echoing through the beautiful landscape. The feeling of being so utterly consumed by Morpheus, both physically and emotionally and with such reverence, is overwhelming, always, but you never feel more alive than you do in these instances.

Morpheus's thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, as he seeks his own release. His fingers dig into your hips, his breath coming in staged grunts against your mouth as he pushes you both towards the brink of ecstasy. You feel your another orgasm building, your thighs shaking and stomach muscles clenching in anticipating.

With a final thrust, Morpheus buries himself deep within you, pressing his pelvis against yours as his cock pulsates and fills your cunt with his seed. The searingly hot sensation sends you hurtling over the edge as well, your second orgasm crashing over you in waves of pure bliss. You wail this time before sinking your teeth into his shoulder and shuddering as the ripples of pleasure spread to each and every crevice in your body.

You are still trembling when you release your teeth form his shoulder and your sated body goes lax.

“I bit you again,” you softly comment, leaning your head against his. Morpheus chuckles and twists his head, pressing his lips against your hair.

“I shall wear your mark with pride, beloved,” he murmurs back, lovingly running his hands along your body in gentle strokes. While you are catching your breath, a realization dawns on you. Fiddler's Green, while not in his corporal body, surrounds you and was most definitely a witness to you and Morpheus having sex. Embarrassment floods you and your cheeks feel as if they are on fire.

"I am so sorry, Gilbert," You whisper with mortification leeching into your voice. A soft chuckle echoes through the leaves, and a familiar voice responds.

"No need to apologize, dear. You are certainly not the first to enjoy yourself within my grounds. Nor will you be the last.”

The leaves rustle gently, as if to reassure you, but you still air out a moan of embarrassment. Morpheus smiles, his touch attempting to sooth your embarrassment as he caresses your cheek. "Fiddler's Green is a part of The Dreaming, just as we are. He understands the depth of our connection."

"It is embarrassing," You enunciate, trying to cover your face with your hand.

Morpheus gently pulls your hand away, his eyes filled with tenderness. "There is no need for embarrassment, beloved. Our love and passion are natural and beautiful, a testament to the bond we share."

Gilbert's voice continues from the surrounding greenery. "Indeed, your love is a part of the life that flows through The Dreaming. It enriches this realm and brings joy to its very essence."

"Can we please stop talking about this?" You whisper miserably, your cheeks still burning with embarrassment.

Morpheus chuckles softly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. "Of course, beloved. Would you like to remain here, or return to the palace?"

You take a deep breath, letting the embarrassment slowly ebb away. The serenity of Fiddler's Green and the comforting presence of Morpheus begin to calm your racing heart. You stare up at the glimmering stars and moon high above you.

"Can we stay here for a little while?" you ask softly, turning your head to look at Morpheus. “I want to enjoy some alone time with you.”

He smiles, his eyes filled with warmth. "Of course, beloved. We can stay as long as you wish."

Date Published: 9/11/24

Last Edit: 9/11/24

Morpheus Masterlist

#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #x reader #smut #honeybeezgobzzzzz #honey my wife

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nvirskies · 10 months ago

Text

sand - c. la rue

idea taken from one of @star-girl69 's asks about married clarisse and immediately went to think about how the vast majority of greek demigods didn't get to live past their 20's or even teen years... and the survivor's guilt that would come with being one of the few lucky enough to live longer.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, traumatic nightmare flashbacks, descriptions of violence, descriptions of blood + war, spoilers for TLO, set after both reader and clarisse leave CHB about 6-8 years into the future, google translated Greek term of endearment, crying, survivor's guilt, platonic RueGard, ooc Clarisse, she's matured more over time and more articulate with her feelings and words

summary: clarisse wakes up from a particularly bad nightmare in the middle of the night, reader comforts her through a breakdown

wife!fem!demigod!reader x wife!clarisse la rue

word count: 2.2k

καρδιά μου (kardiá mou) - my heart

Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου (I kardiá mou eínai i kardiá sou) - my heart is your heart

"but you have more pieces of me than than desert has sand, and I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand" sand, alchemical: vol. 1, dove cameron

taglist: @lvrue @star-girl69 @azrielsdiary @petitegavotte @b0ok-lover

men, nsfw, non-sapphic, 16-/19+ dni

Greek demigods fell in love hard and fast with an unmatched intensity. They normally didn’t live long enough to even envision themselves in their adult lives, and why would they? Every day was a struggle to stay alive with monsters coming in from all angles and quests most didn’t come back from.

And that was why, as soon as the two of you graduated high school, Clarisse got down on a knee and proposed with the knowledge that you were the one she would want to spend the rest of her life, however long or short, with.

When you two had graduated college, the next thing in the books was to make it official in the courthouse, and that was what you had done. No extravagant party or ceremony, just a quiet day in the courthouse and a night in to celebrate.

But no matter how far the two of you ran from Camp Half-Blood, the nightmares never went away, never got better. As the years passed, more of the people you had considered friends died. One after the other, falling like cursed dominos, helplessly standing by as they all tumbled down.

Soon, the nightmares became more about the people that were lost than the monsters themselves. Nightly plagues of searingly painful memories from watching the life drain from so many demigods’ eyes burned themselves in both of your psyches.

All you could do was hope Charon would be kind enough to ferry them across the Styx without his payment of a silver coin.

And tonight certainly hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary with the two of you and your limbs interlaced in a protective embrace while sleep claimed your minds, as if the both of you could protect each other from the monsters both in and outside.

Your head, nestled into her chest. Her deep, rhythmic breathing made your hair flutter ever so slightly as she exhaled. Her arms, wrapped loosely around your waist, hands not-so-sneakily under the baggy shirt of hers you had stolen to wear as pajamas for the night. It was all perfect. Too perfect.

You would be damned fools to think that peace would last for so long. Demigods didn’t get peace, they didn’t get tranquility, and they especially didn’t get uninterrupted domestic bliss.

Unbeknownst to you, Clarisse’s face contorted into one of distress. Her arms pulled you in closer subconsciously as the all too familiar face of Morpheus greeted her with a sly smirk on his face in her dreams.

In moments, she was transported back to the Battle of Manhattan.

She was seventeen again.

Blood was everywhere. Abandoned weapons lay on the floor, the hands that once gripped them tightly, now loose and limp. Shrill screams echoed throughout the air, all cut short by gut-wrenching sounds of fatal injury. Metal cut through flesh. Acid burnt through metal. Flames licked and greedily consumed anything and everything as fuel.

Her feet felt heavy, her hands numb. She could do nothing but stand and watch it all unfold before her own eyes, forced to relive the carnage and devastation that had ripped through Manhattan on that fateful day.

Morpheus’ voice whispered in her right ear, the sound of it sending an uneasy chill down her spine. “Daughter of Ares. A fitting dream, no? Your father must have been proud of you for the way you fought after… well, I’ll let you relive that, too.” Before she could blink, she was transported to the moment right after Silena had been sprayed by the Lydian Drakon.

Clarisse was too late. She had always been too late.

She was back on her knees, choking and weeping bitterly as Silena lay in her arms, watching as life slowly left her once-lively eyes.

What kind of a warrior even was she? So weak that she couldn’t even protect her friend? Too weak to protect the girl who had adorned her armor and led her siblings into battle?

Just as Clarisse reached out to touch Silena’s face to wipe away the one mark of smudged eyeliner that the Aphrodite girl normally would never have even allowed to happen in the past, she was jerked back to consciousness, eyes flying open and arms almost crushing your sleeping form momentarily as she came to.

No longer was she in Manhattan, instead sheltered in the familiarly adorned walls of your shared bedroom. Upon the walls hung framed pictures of joyous times past and her sword collection, among other things.

Familiar faces stared back at her, some faces that would never age again. Immortalized memories of times that would never happen again. Everyone was dead or scattered across the globe.

A particular picture caught Clarisse’s eye. It was a portrait of Silena that she had commissioned one of the Apollo kids to draw for the daughter of Aphrodite’s seventeenth birthday.

She never lived to see that day.

Her eyes locked with Silena’s in the drawing for a moment, and that moment was one too much as hot tears began to prick in the corners of her eyes.

She had inadvertently woken you up with the way her arms tightened around your waist in a near vice grip, slowly coming to your senses. No longer were her breaths slow and rhythmic, their steadfast pattern replaced by one that was erratic and shallow. The once-steady thumping cadence of her heart as it beat in her chest was now quickened, all of which you could hear with your head having been nestled into her chest.

Craning your head to look up at her, you were greeted with the sight of Clarisse desperately trying to silently blink back tears and control her own breathing.

Hurriedly, you pushed yourself up off her chest and tugged the blankets off the two of you before sitting down on her lap. You took note of the way her hands had never left your waist, holding onto you as if she were drowning and you were the last life ring thrown out.

It wasn’t anything you and Clarisse hadn’t dealt with before. The nightmares had been a part of your lives as far back as you could remember, it just came with the territory of being a demigod. But they never got any easier as time went on.

She watched silently with eyes brimming with unshed tears, pleading wordlessly with you to do something, anything to make it all go away.

“Let’s switch, yeah? You can lay on me and completely cover me if you want, love,” you offered up, a melancholy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Wordlessly, she nodded and you slipped off her lap, laying back where she had just been moments ago.

Gently patting your chest, you motioned for her to rest her head on it, knowing that the rest of her body would soon follow, completely engulfing your form with hers. After she had positioned herself, her arms snaked around your waist again as she simply held you for a few moments, her face pressed into your chest as tears slowly soaked into your shirt.

One hand reached out to gently run along the length of her back, the motion meant to soothe. A few beats passed in silence before you spoke in a hushed whisper, the bedroom devoid of sound beyond the two of you breathing in tandem with each other.

“You hear that, love? That’s my heart,” you murmured softly, craning your neck to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “It’s beating, beating for you. Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου.”

She didn’t respond beyond releasing another shaky sob into your chest and tightening her grip around your body, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t need her to talk just yet.

“You’re also η καρδιά μου, you know that, right? My heart, my wife, my love, my everything. And I’m yours. Entirely yours, and I”m not going anywhere.” You craned your neck again to press another kiss against the crown of her head, hand never stopping its path of running gently along the length of her back.

“I would go down to the depths of Tartarus for you. I would challenge Hades himself to a fight if it meant I had even a glimmer of a chance in getting you back.”

Never once did you try to rush her into talking or shushing her tears. You knew her better than you knew yourself, and giving her time to let everything out was the best thing you could do for her at the moment.

You were her safe space, the one woman that she could let her walls down around. She wasn’t Ares’ star daughter in your arms, she was just Clarisse. No expectations dangling over her head, just open arms and understanding.

After another few quiet moments, she finally spoke up in between half-choked sobs, whispering so quietly that her voice was nearly inaudible, “Silena… Manhattan… should have been able to save her,” before letting her face fall back down onto your chest, releasing another pained cry.

“She’s gone- a-and everyone else too- why me?”

Her question left you speechless, mouth partly opened in an attempt to come up with a reassuring response, but nothing seemed to come to mind immediately. It was rare for this to happen, as you normally had just the right words at the top of your tongue, weaving them as Arachne once wove tapestries on her loom.

“They’re all gone and- and- ”

“Shh, love…” you cut her off, gently pulling her head up to look her in the eyes, your other hand leaving her back to wipe the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks with the pad of your thumb. “Please, don’t go back into that self-sacrificial spiral. Talk to me, tell me what the dream was about?”

She only shook her head in response, unwilling to divulge details of the memory that had shattered your night of otherwise perfect proportions.

Deflating back on top of you, she whispered, “They’re all gone, and we’re one of the only ones remaining. It was like every time another one of them died, that small part of myself that I gave to them died as well.”

Her arms that were wrapped around your waist tightened for a moment before going limp along with the rest of her body as she lay atop you, her head pressed against your chest.

“Love…” you began softly as one of your hands found its way to her head and carded gently through her curls. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. None of it was your fault. We didn’t ask to be born, to be thrown into this mess of a world and tossed around like pawns in the gods’ game of chess with our lives.”

“We didn’t ask for this life, and we were so young at the time. For fuck’s sake, we were only seventeen- we hadn’t even made out yet. We hadn’t graduated high school yet, there were so many things we couldn’t control.

“None of it was your fault, I promise you. You were so brave, and you did everything you could.” She stayed silent as you spoke, the only sounds coming from her were the soft, shaky breaths as she sniffled and burrowed her face further into your shirt.

“I can’t explain to you why so many things had to happen, that’s up to the Fates. I can’t give you the pieces of yourself back that you lost when we kept losing everyone,” you murmured whilst your hands kept on with their idle motions.

It shattered your heart to give her such an incomplete answer when you knew it was tearing her apart inside to live with it all, but there was nothing you could do beyond offer solace and comfort. “And for that, I am so, so sorry. But the one thing I can do is keep the piece you’ve granted me to keep, safe and sound.”

She only nodded in response, not trusting herself to speak in fear of her own vulnerability. Her tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn’t care. All that was important was that Clarisse was here, in your arms, and slowly calming down.

Clarisse knew just as well as you did that everyone had done the best they could with the circumstances given, and that the loss affected you just as deeply. But she didn’t dig into that, it would be a can of worms to open for another time, another sleepless night where your own troubles caught up with you after running from them for so long.

And so, the rest of the night stretched on into early morning, the two of you half-awake, seeking silent solace in each other until sunlight crept into the bedroom through the cracks of the curtains the next day.

The two of you might have been running from your trauma like runners to a marathon, but at least you were running hand-in-hand with matching strides.

#🖋️ nvir writes #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse larue #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo tv #im not sorry #maybe i am #no im not

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fatecantstopme · 2 years ago

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Hi 👋 can I please request Dream x reader. The reader tries to stop Dream & desire from fighting & it ends in sumt. Thanks 🫣 👉👈🫣

A/N: I hope this is what you’re looking for! 💜

Dream's Desire

Pairing: Morpheus x reader

Summary: Being married to an Endless is not an easy task on a good day, it’s especially difficult when you’re caught in the middle of a fight between two of them.

Warnings: angst, fighting/arguing, bit of fluff, use of pet names, smut. unprotected sex (P in V), oral (F receiving).

You never thought you would be here, sitting at a table in the waking world, having dinner with not one, not two, but four Endless. Morpheus had not wanted to come, but you'd insisted, wanting to meet at least some of his siblings.

It was no surprise to you, nor anyone else, that Dream was in a rather foul mood this evening. It was not that he did not wish to be around his siblings, more so that he wished to keep you as far away from them as possible. At least from two of them.

You hit it off with Death immediately. She was not a difficult woman to get along with and you instantly felt comfortable with her, despite having never met her before. She was also the only sibling Dream felt comfortable allowing you to be around. It would be ironic if it were not so sad.

Dream had told you nothing of his siblings, save their names and a one sentence explanation of how he felt about them. Death was his dearest sibling, whom he loved very much. Despair was simply difficult to be around, given her constant deep sorrow. It was Desire that Dream clearly disliked, though he would not explain why. He simply said, “We do not get along,” with no other explanation. He said it with such a tone of finality, you opted to drop the subject instead of instigating an argument.

You had been married to Dream for several years, but in that time he had never once allowed you to meet any of his siblings. This dinner was Death’s idea, which she proposed in the hopes of getting to meet the woman her brother loved. You only knew of the invitation because Dream was so annoyed by it. Your insistence was enough to make him acquiesce, though begrudgingly.

“More wine?” the server asked as he came up to the table, interrupting the conversation.

“Please,” you said with a smile, the others following suit.

When the server left, Desire took the opportunity to ask you a question. “(Y/N), I must ask you, what made you marry my brother?”

“Desire!” Death quipped, a pointed look gracing her features.

“I am simply curious, sister.”

“Yeah, what made you like him?” Despair asked.

You looked at Dream, who at this moment had such a strong grip on his glass you worried he would shatter it, and laid your hand gently on his arm. The motion seemed to sooth him and his grip lessened.

“Love,” you said simply, addressing Desire directly. “The purest of all emotions.”

“Hmm,” Desire hummed. “Interesting. I was unaware a mortal could fall in love with an Endless without certain…issues arising.”

“Issues?” you asked.

“Desire,” Dream said in a warning tone.

They shrugged as if they could not be bothered by Dream’s warning. “Mortals do not simply fall in love with us. They are made to fall in love with us.”

You looked confused. “As in created for?”

Desire shook their head. “No, my dear. Made as in forced.”

Dream could contain his anger no longer. “Silence, Desire. I will not have you upsetting her.”

You were quick to defend, “Darling, I am not upset. I simply wish to understand.”

“I do not think this is a good topic of conversation for dinner,” Death cut in gently.

Despair, on the other hand, chose to stir the pot, an action she likely learned from her twin. “Who made her love him, Desire?”

“Oh my sweet twin, what an excellent question,” they looked at Dream as they spoke, golden eyes filled with a mischievous glint that made you deeply uncomfortable. “It is not love she feels, it is desire. I made her want him.”

Before you could react, or even so much as blink, Dream was out of his seat and standing behind Desire, yanking their head back to look into his hardened gaze. “You would do well to be silent, Desire,” he growled lowly.

“Dream!” you said worriedly, standing from your chair. You began to move towards him, but Death’s hand on your arm stopped you.

“You do not want to get in the middle of an Endless fight, (Y/N),” she warned.

You looked at your husband’s face and determined he was the angriest you had ever seen him. “Dream,” you said softly, trying to pierce through his hardened exterior.

“You will not speak her name, you will not even think it, or you will face my wrath. Do you understand me?” Dream said angrily.

Desire’s lips curled into a smug smile. “Oh I would not dream of it, brother.”

In the moment of silence that followed, you saw the emotion that fueled Dream’s rage: fear. It was a fear you did not quite understand at first. “Let them go, Dream,” you said firmly.

Dream’s eyes flitted up to meet yours, confirming your suspicions: he was afraid. As if your brain was a few moments behind, it finally clicked into place, and his fears became apparent.

“Desire did not make me love you, Dream. That is not within their power. Even if they are the cause of my initial attraction, the love I have for you is because of you, not some outside influence.”

Dream’s hold on Desire’s hair slackened, allowing the other Endless to regain their poise. “I suppose you will never know, will you?” Desire asked with another smug expression.

“I know,” you insisted. “That is what matters.”

Dream watched you, eyes swimming with emotions, emotions he dared not express in front of others, least of all his siblings.

“Dream?” you asked gently.

He seemed to regain his composure, and moved towards you, hand reaching for yours almost by instinct. “Perhaps we should return to The Dreaming,” he said softly.

You nodded. “I think that would be wise.” You turned to acknowledge Death, but did not spare a second glance for either of the twins. “Let’s go home.”

Dream took your hand in his and guided you to the door, neither of you turning back to look at the three Endless, one of which seemed quite annoyed at the turn of events.

Once you were outside, Dream pulled you close, and the two of you disappeared into a swirl of sand, only to reappear on the shores of The Dreaming.

“Dream?” you ask gently when you feel him pull away from you.

“I think it would be wise for us to discuss this evening’s events,” he said softly, not quite meeting your gaze.

“There’s nothing to discuss, my love.”

He looked up at you in surprise. “Do you not wish to know if Desire is the cause of your affection?”

You shook your head. “I know why I love you, Morpheus. You are my heart and soul. I couldn’t possibly love anyone the way I love you.”

He always loved to hear you say his name, it was somehow calming amidst the chaos of life. This time was no different, although he had to admit he found a deeper appreciation for it in the moment.

You stepped towards him, reaching out in the hopes that he would take your hand. When he did, you smiled warmly, the love that you felt so deeply was reflected in his face as he regarded you.

“May I show my love to you?” you asked softly.

Dream looked confused for a moment, not quite understanding what you meant.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” he answered immediately.

You smiled. “Take me to our room, darling.”

Realization dawned on his handsome face and he offered you a small smirk before pulling you close. You blinked slowly, eyes opening to find yourself in the middle of your bedroom. You reached up and touched his chest, eyes searching for any trepidation in his. Seeing none, you slipped your hands beneath his coat, sliding it gently off his shoulders. The dream lord shrugged the coat off, ignoring it as it fell to the floor.

“I don’t ever want you to question my love for you,” you whispered.

“I am sorry, beloved. It is difficult for me to understand how someone so perfect could possibly love someone like me.”

“That’s nonsense,” you insisted. “You’re basically a god. I’m nothing in comparison.”

He grabbed your face and held your gaze with intensity. “You are everything, my love. Never belittle yourself in my presence again or I shall have to remind you of your worth.”

You smiled warmly. “My apologies, Morpheus.”

His hands slid from your cheeks to your waist, allowing him to pull you closer. “You are forgiven, my darling.” He pressed his lips against yours in a soft, loving kiss.

“I want to show you how much I love you, Morpheus. Please.”

“How would you wish to do that?”

You could tell by the mischievous glint in his eyes that he knew exactly how you planned to do it, but it was clear he simply wanted to hear you say it.

“I’m going to touch every inch of your skin, worship your body the way you deserve. I’m going to give you more pleasure than you can handle. And I’m going to make love to you for hours…until you can’t think of anything but me.”

His breath was already ragged as he watched you, pupils dilating with desire. “You are already all I think about.”

You chuckled lightly. “I believe you, but I’d like to make sure of it. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I would never say no to you, beloved. Especially when you ask so sweetly.”

“Good,” you breathed out before grabbing the back of his head and pulling him down to you, lips hungrily latching onto his.

Despite being an Endless, Dream could be exceptionally impatient. He loved the feeling of your hands against his body, soft and gentle against his skin. He could not stand another moment without that feeling.

In the blink of an eye, your clothes simply melted away along with his, bodies completely bare against each other. "Impatient, are we?" you teased lightly.

"Only for you, my love."

You smiled, running your fingers through his unruly black hair, reveling in the softness of his locks. He moaned softly against your lips, always enjoying the way you played with his hair.

Moments later, you found yourself on your back, the lord of dreams hovering over you, kissing your neck softly. You weren't surprised by the quick turn of events, you knew who you'd married.

"Darling, I believe I was supposed to be reminding you of my love," you said softly, voice breathy.

He lifted his head just long enough to say, "I can feel your love with each touch, beloved. I wish only to ensure you can feel mine."

You sighed happily as his lips reattached themselves to your skin. You knew how the Endless felt about you, you'd always known. From the moment you'd looked into his starlit eyes, you knew.

Morpheus preferred to worship you like the queen you were. He would allow you moments of dominance when you preferred it, but only to please you. It was not that he wished to control you, only to ensure you received as much pleasure as possible and that your pleasure came from him and him alone.

His lips moved slowly down your body, taking care to touch every sensitive spot he came across. He knew where they all were of course, having discovered them many years prior.

When he reached his desired destination, you let out a small whine, anticipation and desperation filling the sound.

His dark eyes flickered up to yours. "What is it my darling?" He knew very well what you wanted, but he always did enjoy teasing you.

"Morpheus, please," you whimpered.

The dream lord smiled, deciding to take pity on you and give you all that you desired. After all, the purpose of this particular activity was to ensure you felt loved.

He lowered his head and began to feast upon you in such a manner that all the air was stolen from your lungs. You could not breathe, nor think; all you could do was feel.

"Morpheus," you gasped, tendrils of pleasure snaking up and down your body.

He did not stop, nor did he slow, until your body began to shake and your moans filled the room. He allowed you to pull him up by his hair as the aftershocks of your orgasm washed over you.

"May I return the favor?" you asked softly against his lips as he kissed you.

"Hmm," he hummed. "As much as I would love to feel your lips around me, I would much rather make love to you. I fear I cannot wait much longer."

You smiled as you touched his face gently. "I think I'm okay with that."

He returned your smile, hands slowly caressing your soft curves. He bent his head, tracing the hills and valleys of your body with his lips. "So soft," he whispered reverently. "So beautiful."

Every moment with Dream was always special, every second in his arms pleasurable, but there was something so uniquely wonderful about this moment--something that was beyond words.

You had promised to worship him, provide him unimaginable pleasure, but instead you found yourself the worshiped one. Every touch of his hands, kiss of lips, and movement of his body brought you to the highest of pleasures.

Dream lined up his body with yours, eyes flickering to your face as if asking permission to continue. Your hips shifted slightly, eyes locked on his, silently begging him to give you what you both craved.

Your back arched off the bed as he entered you, soft whimpers of his name leaving your mouth like a prayer. There was nothing like making love to an Endless--and Dream was deeply passionate, even for an Endless.

Your mortal body had never felt anything remotely close to what Dream could do to you, no Earthly pleasure could ever compare. He knew your body, your soul--knew how to bring you to the edge and make you fall over and over again.

By the time Dream neared his own release, you were completely spent, body practically vibrating from the onslaught of delicious pleasure you'd been experiencing.

"Beloved," he whispered into your skin as his hips began to falter. You clenched around him, earning a low moan from deep in his chest. He gasped your name as he spilled his seed within you, body shaking with tremendous pleasure.

As he always did after making love to you, Dream gently cleaned your body. He could have simply used magic to do so, but there was something wonderfully reverent about using his own hands to cleanse you. Besides, he would use any excuse to touch your soft skin, your perfect body.

"Do you feel loved, my darling?" Dream asked softly as he laid down beside you.

You turned your head to face him, a small smile dancing across your lips. "You always make me feel loved, Morpheus."

He matched your expression as he leaned in to kiss you softly.

"I hope you know I love you just as much," you whispered.

He nodded. "I was foolish to ever think otherwise."

You smiled. "As long as you admit it."

"You are a tease, dear wife, but I would not have it any other way."

When Dream kissed you, you swore you could feel the love of an entire universe pouring into your soul. You would never tire of his presence, his gentle touch, nor his love, and in that moment you knew he would sooner burn his realm to the ground than stop loving you.

#Morpheus x reader #Morpheus x reader smut #Dream x reader #dream x reader smut #The Sandman fic #The Sandman smut #Morpheus smut #Morpheus x wife!reader

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