#dark morpheus x reader

[aphroditelovesu]

Can you do Scarlet Witch!Reader x Dark!Morpheus headcanons please? I’m really curious how he would go about forcing the reader to stay by his side compared to human reader! Like is it even possible? How low would he go?

❝⌛— lady l: I didn't plan on writing this but after reading your request I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like, so… Here it is! I confess that I don't know if it was really good but I hope you still like it, anon. Seriously, now I'm wanting to write a short yandere!Morpheus oneshot with Scarlet Witch!Reader… What i'm going to do now?

❝⌛ tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, implied non-con, mention of torture during sleep and curses.

❝⌛ pairing: yandere!morpheus/dream of the endless x scarlet witch!reader

First, we have to ascertain the chances of Morpheus going to the point of madness from his obsession, even more so with her being a Scarlet Witch. Given the fact that Dream is already canonically obsessive, he as a yandere is even more intense, his emotions are more twisted and stronger than before. He doesn't understand why he feels that way or why he's so desperate for the reader, but he is and the King of Dreams won't give up until he has you on his side. Morpheus doesn't care if you're not human, although he'd rather you were because that would make things easier for him, but either way, he won't give up on his obsession or the love he thinks he has for you. You will be his, whether willingly or by force, but you will be his and his alone.

Morpheus is an Endless, a being older than the gods themselves, he is billions of years old and has some failed romantic experiences and it was those failures that made him who he is. Honestly, he couldn't imagine falling in love again let alone the way he felt about you. He always knew about beings like you, but never cared, however after accidentally meeting you, a Scarlet Witch, he ended up falling in love faster than he wanted to admit. At first, Dream tried to ignore those feelings and focus on other things, but you kept coming back to his mind. He couldn't get you out of his head and he didn't understand why.

Once Morpheus became aware of his feelings for you he would try to fight it, ignoring the growing and burning desire for you as best he could, but unfortunately he couldn't do it for much longer. Every hour, every minute of the day, you were all he could think about. Morpheus thought that this was Desire's silly prank or that you had cast some kind of spell on him, but soon came to the conclusion that it was neither. He decided not to do anything, at least for the time being, he contented himself with watching you from the Dreaming, caring and closely observing his dreams. Dream was content with that, at least for a while, but when his desire and his obsession got the better of him, he would have to do something. And he would.

He would be none the less subtle in his approach to you and without further ado, Morpheus will tell you that he is in love with you and wants you to be with him. Forever. At that moment, you have two life-changing choices that will lead in the same direction, but one choice being harder than the other, accept him or deny him. You were confused by the sudden confession, you and Morpheus had seen each other before but it was briefly and you just exchanged a few quick words without thinking too much, so why all of a sudden? None of that made sense, so you rejected him. You said no, you rejected him, and that was your biggest regret. You should have known better, Morpheus doesn't take rejections very well.

Once the words of rejection come out of your mouth, Morpheus will freeze as if he's been stabbed, before his lip trembles and a wistful ''no'' falls from his lips, while his eyes filled with pure madness never cease to face you. You were alarmed by the expression of madness on the Dream King's face and even more so when he uttered a hateful no, at that very moment you realized the terrible mistake you had just committed. However, you wouldn't give in that easily, if you ever would. You don't belong to him or any other person or being, you are free to do what you want and it won't be an Endless that will take away your right to life choice. Well, that's what you thought.

If you agree to keep him, Morpheus will be nothing but the most generous lover you could wish for. He will pamper you and fulfill all your darkest desires, you will be covered in adornments from head to toe. He would love and idolize every inch of your body, his eyes will be filled with nothing but pure desire and love when looking at you. He will be merciful to you and will try his best to take care of you in whatever way he can. He hates it when you use your powers for the benefit of others. Don't you think you're too good to people who don't deserve your kindness? Morpheus will not try to restrict the use of your powers but will be wary of your surroundings with this.

But what if you reject it? Let's just say this won't end well for you. Morpheus knows that it will be more difficult to force you to stay with him because of what you are and what you are capable of. He is well aware of the extent of your powers and how dangerous you can be but he still won't let you beat him. And honestly, why should he? He's an Endless and he's more powerful than ever but he can't help but feel sulky around you. Listen to me, he will never leave you alone and he will be persistent in wanting you with him, no matter what you do, you can run from him all you want and he will always be after you. Morpheus knows how to be patient and will learn everything he can use against you, your power source and your weaknesses just so he can catch you in the end.

You can even shape reality or alter it, but Morpheus will hardly be affected by it. He is not immune to magic but will be more difficult to deal with after being trapped by Roderick Burgess. You can use all of your power against him and he still won't leave you alone. Morpheus will probably wear you out because, in a desperate attempt to keep him at bay, you've exhausted yourself and reached your limit and he managed to catch you. Or there is also the possibility that, when you sleep, he traps you in your dreams. The time you are most vulnerable to him is during your sleep and he will use that against you. Morpheus will likely give you Eternal Sleep until you finally accept him, and only then will you be released from your own torment. And even if you don't, he can always invade your dreams and stay with you while he takes care of your sleeping body. No matter what you are, Morpheus will never leave you alone.

The point is, Morpheus will go way too low to have you for him. Human, goddess or Scarlet Witch... You will still be his, he has no morals when it comes to you and will go as low as possible for you to be his. He'd rather you were a human because you're easier to deal with but you'll still be his. No matter how long it takes for him to get you, he will know how to wait for the right moment. Maybe he'll find a way to remove your powers or he'll just curse you to sleep forever and he'll still have you. He will always manage to have you, now you just have to accept that there is no way to escape him. Even though you are an extremely powerful being, he will find a way to beat you. He always does.

''I di not want to have to do this but you left me no choice. I give you the gift of Eternal Sleep. Where you will only be released after accepting our involvement, but don't worry, I will keep you company and take good care of you.''

[dotieeee]

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 21

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

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Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

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

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

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

dub-con smut

Deviousness, manipulation and gaslighting galore

Barely edited, please bear with me

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

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 21/Epilogue: A Sibling's Offer

You open your eyes to a million galaxies cradled in ocean blue.

The eyes of your creator, so soft, so benevolent, so full of affection. Slowly, your lips widen to match his tender smile as his hands gently cup your cheeks, so warm you could melt in them. He dips his head closer to yours as if his eyes could see nothing else before him. You could feel heat spread across your cheeks as he caresses your lips with his touch - he hums, as if in approval of your reaction.

“My little dream, you’re beautiful. You’re perfect,” with his lips barely moving, he whispers in a deep, velvety, hypnotic voice. 

“The entire realm pales in comparison to your radiance.”

Speechless at his praise, you watch as he pulls away, instantly depriving you of his warmth, his expression never changing.

“I am Dream of the Endless, the King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm.”

“My Lord,” you speak for the first time, in awe of your master’s beauty, wanting nothing but to venerate him for giving you life.

“My Mera, tell me,” your King says, a look of concern marring his ethereal features. “What do you last remember?”

You furrow your brows in concentration, but your thoughts land on mere snippets - glimpses of what seems like a former life, now long-forgotten; lines of tall, wooden shelves filled with books as far as your eyes could see, bodies drawn together, flushed in a fevered embrace, soft lips searching yours with hunger…

And you eventually giving in and kissing him back just as passionately.

The picture is suddenly crystal clear. You blush at the vivid image of you and your creator in each other’s arms, so you speak bashfully, “We kissed…in the library…”

Worried you might be wrong and upset him, you peer into his eyes in search of a sign that you have displeased him, but there was none - his eyes, sparkling with all the stars they hold, are full of nothing but adoration.

“My Lord, were we lovers?”

Your innocent question brings a shine to his eyes you could not read. He gathers your cheeks in his palm once more and brings your forehead close to his.

“We are.”

Your mind runs through the memory - the only memory you seem to have - in search of clues about your supposed relationship. You would never show it, but it frustrated you a little to have no recall of his love, especially when it seemed to run deep and with utter devotion.

“We loved each other, didn’t we?”

He closes his eyes and hums in satisfaction.

“You vowed to devote yourself wholly, only unto me, for eternity.”

He is gentle when his lips descend on yours as if wanting you to make true to your promise. Tentatively, you return his kiss and wrap your arms around his neck - he is your King, your creator and lover, and you trust him with your life, so you stay in his tight embrace until all that you know is his love, burning and all-consuming.

At the back of your mind is something telling you it isn’t right, but you pay it no mind: what wrong could there be, when your creator is by your side, ready to take your troubles away?  

***

You were more than eager to begin your duties, crafting inspiring dreams in your master’s name, but he himself was adamant that you stayed in the confines of his palace where he could always reach you. Even though you were temporarily taken out of commission, you took his orders to heart: the accident which robbed you of your former self was still fresh in his mind, so for you, it was clear that his actions meant he was trying to keep you from further harm.

But it also frustrated you a little - if you could just remember what had happened to you and why it happened, maybe you could help prevent it from ever happening again. You decide to tell him this one day in his throne room, where you find him sitting on the bottom of the winding stairs to his royal seat. Your king greets you with a small, warm smile - a rarity, you discovered, but which he gives you freely - and closes the book he had opened on his lap. Curtsying just as you get close, you open up to him about recovering your memories, to which his expression goes sombre before beckoning you closer.

“My dream, it is possible that your memories may never come back.”

As soon as you’re within his reach, he snakes an arm around your midriff and strokes your cheeks with another. You could tell how deeply saddened he was about you forgetting many things. There were, after all, memories he shared with you.

“Why is that, Lord Morpheus?” you ask, not at all comforted by soft gestures. “What happened to me?”

He tilts down your chin so you could look only at him. “It was a loss I almost could not bear,” he reveals while he traces your lips with his eyes and toys with your hair. “You met a terrible accident, my Mera. I wish for you to be spared the details.”

You run your fingers idly through his hair, fascinated by how soft it is. “And you saved me, my Lord?”

“I did.”

You let out a tiny yelp just as he pulls you to his lap and cradles you in his cloak. “I thought I was too late, but you held steadfast. I will not allow such a terrible fate upon you again, you have my word.”

***

He calls upon you to his chambers one night. You had an inkling what for when Morwyn gave you the word, and perhaps you had been expecting it; he’s allowed you privacy in your own chambers for months since the day he gave you life anew, but you were aware he has needs that have to be fulfilled.

Knowing that, however, does not make it any less nerve-wracking.

You decide to enter your King’s quarters early in the night. Thankfully, you find it empty of his presence, so you spend the next moments alone, circling the wide expanse of his room, getting increasingly anxious as you watch the night sky from his window turn from orange to purple, to midnight blue and littered with the glittering stars of your master’s creation.

You’re admiring a particular marble sculpture in a corner of his room when you feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand, and arms pulling you tight and pressing your back tightly against a warm, rumbling chest.

Gasping audibly at the pair of lips nipping at your earlobe, you whisper, “Lord Morpheus, you gave me quite a fright!”

“My apologies, little dream,” he says with a seemingly pleased hum. “I have missed you terribly.”

He spins you around and instantly places his mouth on yours in a heated kiss that makes your knees weak, so you hold on to his shoulders, while one of his hands grasps the back of your neck, the other you could feel stroking your back and fondling your dress ties. With his lips tracing yours and his tongue making yours dance with his, he takes your breath away.

Which is why even you don’t understand why you break it off so suddenly.

Is he going to be mad? You ask yourself. 

“I’m sorry my Lord, I don’t know what came over me,” you whisper apologetically against his cloaked chest, wrapping your arms around him in a hug and hoping you could placate him. You could feel your heartbeat soar through the roof and you could swear he could feel it too.

“There is nothing to apologise for, my dream,” he replies, rubbing your back in an effort to soothe you. He places a lingering kiss on your temple while his finger traces circles on your shoulder. Releasing a low, rumbling hum, he nuzzles your neck as he pulls you ever closer to his body, taking in your scent, an act that leaves goosebumps all over your arms.

“Lord Morpheus, were we…intimate in my previous form?”

Your innocent question does not seem to faze your creator.

“We were passionately in love, my Mera. We indulged in the pleasures of the flesh night after night.”

As if to prove his point, his lips travel down from your neck to your shoulders, peppering your skin with soft kisses and hot licks, all of which leave you panting in his hold and a feeling of wetness gathering between your thighs as you rub them together.

But, once again, no matter how good he was making you feel, you still find yourself pulling away from him. Breathless, you back away into a wall, thinking you’ve angered him this time, but you brave a look at him, only to see him look forlorn as he slowly approaches you.

“It wasn’t just you who I mourned for that day.” Stopping just a few feet from you, he reveals, “You were with our child in your previous form when you…when you passed.”

You clasp your hand over your mouth at the only information he reveals about your passing. His eyes, dulling at the pain of such an enormous loss, are glazed with tears unshed for your unborn child, and it was all because of you.

“I didn’t know.” You muster the courage to close the distance between you and place a trembling palm on his cheek. Welcoming your touch, he leans onto it, clasping it with his own and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. His grief was all your fault, and you couldn’t even remember. With tears cascading your cheeks, you say, “I’m sorry, I’m terribly sorry, Lord Morpheus. I should’ve taken better care of us…”

“That was not your doing, my dream,” he responds with the gentleness you know you don’t deserve. He kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, still wet with tears, which he wills away. He then captures your lips with his in a slow, searing kiss, and this time, you kiss him back without reservations, hoping you could share even just a tiny amount of the pain he bears.

It isn’t long before the kiss becomes more passionate, his lips more insistent and his tongue swirling around yours insistently. He suckles your bottom lip before he grows bolder - his lips make their way to your jawline, then to your neck, where he licks and nips at your skin. He seems to be spurred on by how your chest starts heaving up and down, for he starts biting the strap of your dress and lowering it to your arms, exposing more of the flesh he seems adamant about marking. Licking his way back up, his lips brushing over your ears, he whispers in a tone laced with hunger:

“There is no one else I desire, my Mera, no one, across all realms and dimensions. Just you.”

He bites your earlobe just as you feel his hands undo the ribbon at the back of your dress. For some reason, the anxiousness you felt before comes back, making you close your eyes and whimper, just as he pulls away to take your mouth in his.

You bite your lower lips as you hear a tiny, disapproving growl from the back of his throat.

“Why do you reject my touch?” he whispers against your temple. “Losing you was painful enough, so why do you spurn me and hurt me still? Do you not love me, my Mera?”

Sniffling and choking back your tears, you respond, “I do, Morpheus. I love you.”

“Then, grant me this.”

Your actions cost him his child. It’s the least you could do.

With your lips trembling, you give him a small nod. “Take comfort in me, my King: do with me as you wish.”

Ignoring the way your skin crawled at your words, you let your King take you in his arms and carry you to his bed, with your dress barely clinging to your form. With all the gentleness he possesses, he lowers you on the silken sheets, and with a single move, removes all your clothing, just as his own disappear in a wink - all while not breaking eye contact with you for even a single moment.

He takes a while to appreciate the sight you offer: you, bare underneath him, bashfully peering into his face. His eyes, laden with barely contained lust, roam your form freely while you squirm at the attention.

You love him, you tell yourself. You’re doing this for him.

After a long, agonising minute, he descends on you at last, his sculpted chest hovering over you almost threateningly as his mouth finds yours, and his hands rake every inch of your skin he could reach. You lie back down and take all of it - his mouth licking and nipping your jaw, your neck, and your collarbones, his hands groping and squeezing your breasts, his knee parting your thighs so he could nestle between them - you take them all.

You love him.

You let out an involuntary moan as his hot mouth finds its way to your nipple. Biting down and suckling, his other hand pinches your other nipple while your back arches further to welcome his touches. With your breathing turning shallow, your hips squirm underneath him, intent on finding more of the friction he provides.

Chuckling darkly, he pulls away, only for a brief moment, to chide you:

“Patience, my little dream. I shall have you soon. For now, I thirst for something only you could quench.”

From your stomach, he licks his way down to his goal: that increasingly throbbing mound between your legs.

You watch him as he teases you further by planting butterfly kisses on your inner thighs, then surprising you by biting down the flesh and leaving bruising marks on your flesh. When he reaches your pulsating flesh, already wet even before he laid you down, you let out an embarrassingly loud, high-pitched moan, unable to help yourself. With that devious tongue of his, he parts your folds at an achingly slow pace, flicking your clit with it as he does. He repeats the action over and over, before delving further down, licking your entrance and lapping up everything you offer. You could do nothing but cling onto the pillow on your head as you close your eyes, mewling at his ministrations.

But he squeezes your thighs in a warning.

“Eyes. On. Me.” he enunciates every word of his command.

Jerking them open, you maintain eye contact with your King just as he sucks your clit - it’s all you could do to come undone within minutes as he holds your hips down and gorges on the feast that is your elixir. Immediately, you’re thrown into a world of pleasure your current body has yet to be familiar with, and you’re left weak and panting, and somehow yearning for so much more.

“Your sweet nectar will be my undoing. I crave more of you, my Mera. I must have you now.”

You’re broken from your lustful reverie once he looms over your body. As he parts your thighs further apart and nestles his hips between them, a trepidation awakens in you, and your hands, of their own volition, claw at his chest, and tears you don’t know the source of come bursting forth. You glimpse a flash of onyx in your Lord’s eyes of what looks like fury just before he takes your wrists and pins them to your sides, amplifying your bizarre fear. You tilt your head to the side, weeping and apologising profusely, dreading punishment from him. His lips descend to your exposed ear, shushing you gently.

“Shh, little dream. You have nothing to fear from me.”

You give a small nod as the anxiety you felt dissipates as soon as it came. You swallow a lump in your throat - you could feel his hips shift slightly, his hard member pushing against your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, while your creator releases your wrists and lovingly wipes your tears away. “Will it hurt, my Lord?”

He takes your question as a sign, so he starts aligning his cock over your entrance, untouched in this body, all while he cups your cheek as if trying to be a source of your comfort.

“Fear not our joining, my dream. We are fated, and so is this.”

As you lay within his hold, already resigned to your fate, you feel something large and hot and pulsating invade your body, tearing through your flesh and making you cry out in pain. Your King shushes you, this time peppering your tear-stained face and neck with soft kisses; he pushes himself further inside your protesting body, groaning above you in pleasure while you sob profusely at his intrusion.

You love him. This is all for him.

“Relax for me, dream of mine,” he whispers hotly against your skin, then proceeds to leave open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone and breasts. 

You try to relieve yourself of the tension, but it’s impossible, especially as he shoves his entire length inside you, stretching your walls more than you could ever imagine. He pulls his head away to look into your face, and you focus on his eyes, brimming with lust he could no longer contain. Still whimpering and breathing shallowly, you feel him withdraw his cock almost entirely before pushing it back in with slightly more force and speed. Tears continue to spill from your eyes at the unfamiliar friction, but you take it all, you take it all for him. He repeats his actions, settling for a pace that eventually allows you to adjust to his size. Moaning and making strangled noises at the back of your throat, your thoughts of wriggling away from underneath him die down as he grabs your waist and starts bringing you to his hips to meet his thrusts. You throw your head back as the pleasure begins to mount in your body and you arch your back, your muscles now clenching and unclenching his cock uncontrollably, eager for more. Your hips, now meeting your King’s thrusts, melts in his hold, so when he picks up a pace at a slightly different angle that makes you see stars, you all but welcome the endless amount of pleasure he’s giving with heavy moans that echo his chambers.

You love him.

The eyes that refuse to leave yours darken, glistening with unbridled carnal longing, and with a bruising grip on your hips, he begins an uninhibited pace.

“You are perfect, my Mera,” he praises. “You’re mine. Mine.”

You try to bite down the embarrassing sounds coming from your mouth, but this earns you a displeased look from your King; he draws his body even closer as he wraps your legs around him, the angle making you scream into the night while his unforgiving pace brings an intense heat in your abdomen. It isn’t long before the heat explodes, and immediately, you fall - you come with your creator’s name on your lips, a screaming, sweaty, writhing mess, while his hands anchor your hips, unceasing and growing increasingly erratic with his thrusts to seek his own. Amplifying your orgasm, he, too, comes undone with a loud groan that shakes his castle. An almost overwhelming warmth floods your core, making you moan incoherently, and as he pumps more of it inside you, he whispers your name over and over in utter ecstasy. He waits for your breathing to even out, pulling your foreheads close and cupping your face before his mouth descends on yours and rolls his tongue languidly on yours, kissing you with so much adoration you couldn’t help but moan in satisfaction and run your fingers through his messy locks.

As with everything, your high fades, replaced with an indescribable, dull ache between your legs, where his cock is still buried. You break away from the kiss, releasing a tiny whine from the back of your throat. Perhaps recognizing the pain you’re in, your master pulls out of you completely. You roll over your stomach to find some sort of relief, and as your inner thighs brush together, you could feel some of his sticky substance spill out, coating them with the evidence of your union.

Your Dream Lord does not lie down beside you like you expect him to - instead, you could feel his lips caressing your shoulders, biting down on the skin you could feel it sting. He continues doing this all across your back, while you could feel him press up on your backside, his once-again hard cock probing your entrance. Your whimpers of protest are all but ignored, and in a swift motion, he sheathes his entire length inside your still-aching walls, which earns a soft squeal from you. He kisses his way from your back to your ear, purring wantonly:

“You took me so well, dream of mine. You will take one more for your King.”

You could only nod, helpless, when he grabs ahold of your waist, bringing your hips to his as he starts pounding relentlessly, parting your cheeks so he could get further access. Grabbing the pillow and squeezing with your might so you could take it, you remind yourself that you’re doing this for your creator, the King who fathered the child you lost, the being you pledged your life, your heart and your soul to. You love him.

Right?

***

“Dream, if I ever hear her soul call out for me in any way, I will snatch her away from you without warning, I will take her soul where even you can’t go, and you’ll never find her again!”

Dream of the Endless recalls his sister’s threat in the cave of the Great Void with an inward flinch. She was kind enough to allow him to keep your soul (it is his right, after all, and he didn’t need her permission), but he is aware he is treading on thin ice, now that his sister is forever going to keep an eye on his affairs. He had made a vow to her to give you a choice in your resurrected form: one between him and the other, to remain only as his dream, free of his pursuit and his love. He had made true to his words, of course.

Conveniently, he had glossed over the part about modifying your memories - just a little, just enough so he could gently push you into choosing him.

Even more aware is he of the fragile state of your soul - as disturbed as he was when he saw your bright light flicker and dim, he knows it would prove useful to him. Apparently, your soul had been using its energy and manifesting itself as a voice, calling out to his sisters for help. He had no prior knowledge of this until Death had inadvertently revealed this important little tidbit - was this why even your past forms have been resistant to him? How long had your soul been rebelling and turning your mind against him?

But, none of that mattered now - your soul is all but close to being diminished - it would no longer bother you nor him. He had been seeing remnants here and there of your defiance, causing you to pull away from him several times on your first night with him in this current body. He could see how it brought you so much distress, not knowing why you were doing it, you had been so regretful of those actions you could not control, so he is patient - he could be, for you - he will continue to push that disobedience in you aside until it baulks. It will only be a matter of time, he surmises.

Even more vexing to him was the manner with which his siblings had obtruded with matters they should not have. His little sister, Delirium, who had confessed to helping you by leading you to that mortal you had claimed to love, and then, his sister Death, who had attempted to wrench your soul from his grasp: why had the two of them become so invested in his affairs, when his other, normally-meddlesome sibling had gone unusually silent since the events related to the Vortex?

This is the reason why he isn’t much surprised when the sibling in question requests his audience for the first time in centuries.

“Dream, dear brother, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil. Can I come in?” comes his sibling’s smooth, echoing in his throne room. “Pretty please?”

Morpheus feels his eyes narrow at his sibling’s request. What could they possibly want at this time?

“Desire,” he mutters. He exhales audibly as he closes the book he was reading only a few moments ago, emitting a small cloud of dust from its pages. He’s lost interest in the book.

“You may enter.”

Drumming his fingers on his throne’s armrest, he watches his sibling’s lithe form manifest at the foot of the stairs leading up to his throne, wearing a sleek, double-breasted suit.

“Hello Dream,” they greet, a wide, toothy smile adorning their cat-like features.

Morpheus does not feel like returning the smile. Sand rises from the ground to form an ornate, high-backed velvet seat for his sibling, which they gracefully plop onto. “To what do I owe this visit, sibling?”

“Oh, I was just checking up on you - worried, actually,” Desire says with a bat of their eyelashes, crossing their legs and leaning back on the velvet chair. “Tell me, how's your ongoing project? Have you perfected her yet?”

Dream feels his eye twitch in slight annoyance. “My current undertakings are my business, my little sibling.” None of your business.

Humming thoughtfully, his sibling places a well-manicured nail on their lips. “I'm just surprised how, even after you've recreated her over and over for the past millennium, you can't seem to make her...bend to your will. Pun most definitely intended.” 

Desire laughs, throwing their head back in their mirth. “Truth always seems to have a way of worming its way to her.” They sling their knees over the armrest and lay their head back on the other, continuing, “I remember her visit to my Threshold about.. four centuries ago, I suppose. She was the seventh, I think? She was so distraught, so desperate for my guidance. And, like the Mera before this current one, she was in love.”

They let their tongue roll on the last phrase for emphasis, which somehow Dream finds incredibly irritating. Quietly, he drags a nail against the marble armrest, while feigning disinterest:

“Oh?”

His sibling pouts and places a hand on their chest, saying, “Looking back now, I think it was cruel of dear Destiny to have orchestrated this on the man’s poor lineage. She was in love with a Chapman.” They side-eye Dream for a gauge of his reaction. “The poor doctor and his ancestors seem to have a penchant for attracting your stubborn, wayward creation. Did I not mention this before? Wait, I did!”

The laugh they let out, louder than the former, is mirthless and bounces against his throne room walls.

“That’s why you cursed his descendants!” They sigh deeply, and in what sounds like contentment, before placing their palms in the air to admire their nail polish. 

“Anyway, the poor thing had no one to talk to, no friends, no family…I didn’t know you could go so low as to keep her isolated. But it wasn’t her love for the Chapman fellow that drew me to her. Surprisingly, her heart’s deepest, innermost desire was freedom - for everything to end. Sadly, it wasn’t mine to give. Anyway, you should be thanking me for what I did. I may have nudged her little mortal lover to take another woman. My twin sister indulged in her misery, she practically bathed in it.”

“Enough.”

Dream, already on the verge of banishing his mischievous blood relation from his realm, shifts in his seat in his ire, his jaw clenching and eyes turning silver and wanting very much to break something. He need not be reminded of how the dream he’s fallen in love with seems to choose anyone else but him, no matter what form they take. “I have no need to hear of the petty games you and your meddlesome twin play at my creation’s expense. I should have your blood for that, if not for the fact that I have remedied your misdeed.”

“By ‘remedied,’ you mean ‘unmade.’”

Feeling his self-control wane in an instant, he stands to his feet abruptly, the book on his lap falling several steps down the stairs. They dare insinuate that he had caused your demise?

Desire just rolls their eyes and curls their lips at his outburst, brushing it off. “Oh Dream, it was merely a joke. I mean, she doesn’t always get to be unmade by you, of course.”

They follow their brother’s action and get to their feet. They walk up the stairs to get closer to the monarch, who’s currently fuming in rage underneath his composed mask. 

“Let me get to my point, then. I came here to help you.”

Dream replies with a biting tone, “And what on earth makes you think that I am in need of your aid?”

“Oh, dear brother, you know of my expertise. Surely, you know just what I can do to your little dream. I can make her want you. Make her crave only your touch. Imagine, a Mera, completely under the spell of her master, her King, submitting to her Creator's wildest fantasies. I mean, there is no one better suited for that task than me. All you have to do is ask.”

Always suspicious of his devious sibling’s intentions, he purses his lips with a heavy scowl marring his pale features. “You’re assuming this one will fail.”

Desire sits on one of his armrests and places a hand on his shoulder, the other toying with his hair. “Oh, I don't know. I just want to spare you the heartbreak of her being uncreated for, what, the tenth, twelfth time? I'm afraid I've lost count. I'm only looking after you, big brother. Isn't that what family is for?”

Ignoring his younger sibling’s manicured nails grazing his scalp, he actually finds himself smirking, finding the idea ridiculous at best, and devious at worst.

“I appreciate the gesture, sibling, but given your propensity to bring sabotage to my personal affairs, I'm inclined to refuse. I have reason to believe this Mera will succeed where the others have failed.”

“Suit yourself,” his sibling shrugs. They pull away from him and begin to descend the stairs, but not before declaring, “You know that when this one proves faulty, my offer still stands. You need only call me.”

Dream’s only reply is taciturn. “I will keep that in mind.”

Flashing that large, crooked grin Dream has come to associate with the craftiness unique only to them, they wave playfully and say, “Till then, big brother.”

His realm would have to freeze over first before he lets them touch you.

***

He’s done for the day - and it was a long, exhausting day, too - so he comes home to you.

Morpheus knows you’d be waiting for him dutifully in his chambers - his dream, his only lover, splayed all over his bed on the softest silk sheets, your hair fanning the pillows, your eyes glazed over in desire - it’s a sight that only he gets the pleasure of seeing, and it makes his cock twitch in anticipation.

When he enters his room at last, he finds your silhouette hiding behind the curtains of his four-poster bed. You had heard him arrive, so you got out of bed just to meet him.

He finds his breath taken away by your beauty, as always.

You’re wearing a sheer ruby nightgown that cascaded just a little above your knees and nothing else underneath.

Just like he had instructed.

Dream makes his approach, never taking his eyes off your form. Once you’re but inches away from him, he grabs ahold of your body and immediately plants his lips on yours - engaged in passionate liplock, he could feel your hands travel beneath his coat before taking it off from him. He obliges, not wanting to deny you of anything, much less undressing him. He only pulls away to undo the ribbon, the only thing that holds your nightgown in place. The flimsy article of clothing falls to your feet, revealing your body - one he’s crafted with care, one he’ll never get enough of no matter how many times he takes it. 

His eyes, after scanning your entire, naked form, bathed in the moonlight, land on the bulge on your belly. It’s small, but he sees it - he can feel the life you had formed with him four months past, swirling happily, safely tucked on your bosom. He lets his palm brush over your abdomen. As if recognising the touch of his father, his son’s energy spikes slightly, making you jolt a little in excitement - wide-eyed, you look up at him as you place your hand over his, wanting to share the experience. He could feel his own eyes glowing with so much emotion - you will be round with his child in no time, and who knows, maybe you will be again after this. He leans on the next being a girl - a princess, just like you in every manner, except maybe she’ll have his eyes, or his hair - he brushes the thought aside; he has an eternity with you to plan this out.

Hating to waste any more time, he gives a little nudge on your shoulder - a silent command for you to lie down for him. You offer no resistance, it seems: you happily get on the bed, your eyes glimmering coyly as you wait for him to climb on top of you. The fight in your soul has died down. Inwardly, he celebrates this victory.

Willing his own clothes into sand and disappearing completely, he descends on his ultimate prize: your body, now completely his and waiting for him to ravish over and over, like he does night after night, indulging in the pleasure only you could satisfy for him. Underneath him, you gaze up at him with so much reverence, so much love, and his heart sings in utter triumph. Just like that, all the work he had poured into you for more than a thousand years, bearing fruit right before him, and it’s all for him to bask in, to take.

This little dream of his is never getting away from him ever again.

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

Author notes on the Chapter:

I. AM. SCREAMING. !!!!

Did I just finish my first-ever fic? Yes. Is it long? Oh, yes. Did it take so much time out of me? Double yes. Did I have fun with it? Immensely. Will I write another? Absolutely.

But seriously, thank you for being with me this entire fic, this journey of mine in writing a fanfic for the very first time. It’s a ride I’ll never forget. Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart for following thus far! Look out for my next ones featuring the same, mopey, sopping-wet cat of a man (endless)!! ILY

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

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

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

Post date: 3/23/23

Edit date: 3/23/23

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

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsets

@izzicle

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@saraicus

@blu3what

@justporple

@emy635

@chantzmar

@dawnissunnysideup

@esmeralda-tupi

@ggxsan

[withoutyouimsaskia]

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

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

​GIF: Originally posted by @tavners

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

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

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

Word Count: 2.6k

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

Sandman Masterlist

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

Fate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This foray into the water may be fruitless.

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

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

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

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

"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.

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

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

Then there is a pull.

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

You are alive, and you are dreaming.

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

Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.

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

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

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

You stand by said window, head turned from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.

It clicks into place.

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

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

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

You see him.

The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.

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

You disappear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would his triumph drive them to distraction?

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

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

Tears pool in his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Fates were making it transparent.

You were the one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It has done the opposite.

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

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

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

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

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

An erotic idea enters his mind.

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

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

To give you a taste of what was to come.

A gift that only he could bestow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.

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

He doesn't even try to fight it.

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

It is surprisingly liberating.

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

All he has to do is wait.

The door to the building is pushed open.

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

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd

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

[nxtaliaistyping]

Thinking about Morpheus making you ride him as punishment :(

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

18+ nsfw, fem reader, slight bondage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can do better.”

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

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

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

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

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Promises Four: A Request

Dark!Morpheus x (female)reader, fantasy/medieval AU, 18+

Master List

Dream of the Endless had been promised a bride.

Chapter Track: "Blue" bardcore cover by Cornelius Link A/N: SHORT chapter. A necessary bit before a bigger scene. Obviously not updating as often as I'd like, but I have some mental health stuff going on that's actively interfering with my creativity/ability to write. Your comments and support mean the world! <3

A Request

The bard found her opportunity in the midafternoon.

The court wheeled slow. Too early to dine, too late for anything but quiet meetings over tea. Gossips bartered in corners, warmed by sunlight and conspiracy. The oldest and youngest members of court disappeared for a private rest before the night’s feasting, and the empty spaces they left behind became walls between cliques and families. Everyone found a place and settled there. Or most did, at least. Even the king wandered from his guest to attend to matters of state – his new mistress, rather – and Dream of the Endless sat like a black tear in the golden hangings and wreathed roses.

A cat, perfectly still, intent on everything and nothing as it watched for something worth the bother to hunt. A flicking tail would suit him well.

She’d spent the morning watching his frown cut over the assembled nobles, more judge than hopeful husband, and each failure to notice a pretty girl or answer an eager boy drew a new line in the web she suspected he wove over the court, the trap under the façade. The Endless’s true motive and threat.

She twiddled inoffensive tunes with her lute, banished by her own free will to the minstrels’ corner. Her songs had a purpose, even when played softly. She saved a queen’s reign once, sitting quietly and listening to courtiers sing in traitorous whispers. With busy hands and a clear purpose, she was invisible. Even her friends only remembered her every hour or so, and most knew her well enough to let her be.

The Endless did not leave his seat on high. He did not lower himself to converse with the lowly mortals gathered for his pleasure, and he raised his wine to his lips but rarely. Everything moved like a dull play someone bribed him to sit and watch.

Stealing strings from the growing web, the bard wove a tapestry, working until she could see the shapes and faces, until something resembling sense appeared. The scene in the unfinished fabric looked more like a war than a courtship.

And when the slow hours crept over the castle, and Dream of the Endless sat alone, she turned like the shadows over the wall to settle at on the steps of the royal dais.

“You must enjoy your misery, King of Dreams, to subject yourself to seven full days of this.”

He looked at her, nearer than the rest of court, but still so clearly beneath him, and lifted a brow.

“My misery?” It was the most he’d engaged with any of the lesser beings he sat amidst, and each word weighed heavy, spoken slowly so she’d feel the burden of his attention. “What inspires your assumption?”

Assumption was not presumption, and she took it as permission to continue. He would deign indulge her questions. For the moment. But she must tread carefully, and she continued playing, a gentle ballad a half-step removed from a lullaby.

“Your bearing,” she said, keeping her eyes on the chords. “Your face, your manner.”

Music and mathematics came from the same house. A simple melody and simple addition led to answers most preferred to ignore.

 “You seem terribly bored, majesty.”

A ghost of a smile shadowed his face, a passing eclipse over the moon’s bright face.

“And you would entertain me, little bard?”

“I would not presume to know your tastes, though they clearly do not walk this court.” He didn’t even pretend to show interest. When the king left the room, the Endless’s starry eyes turned flat and cold, proof that the promised bride hadn’t lured him back. Which left only one possibility. To ensure she was heard, she turned to meet his gaze, filling the natural pause of her lute’s tune with her request. “I wouldn’t ask it as a favor, but if you would deign consider it – perhaps whatever cautionary tale you spin will spread farther carried by survivors.”

Now, she truly had his interest. Graceful as a snake, he shifted in his throne. His dark figure blocked the sun, and the only light to creep over his shoulders caught in the ruby at his throat. The bloody glint drew the hair along the back of her neck to stand straight, and she hoped the goosebumps didn’t betray her by running down her arms. She didn’t dare look away to check.

“Do you fear for your life?”

Not at all, and the unnatural confidence of immortality buoyed her courage, lifting a smile from the deep pit in her chest where it sank before she came to sit at Dream’s feet.

“Your sister will not have me, as I’m sure you know.”

The stars in his eyes flashed, and while his shadows didn’t grow any brighter, their knife’s edge softened.

“I’m asking so I might advise a few wiser birds fly the coop before the fox comes calling. They’d make excellent messenger pigeons, if they escape.”

It was too much to hope for a direct answer, and she didn’t wait for one. She rose from the step to sink back down in a far more honest curtsy than she’d offered the mortal realm’s king the night before. Here was a monarch due much greater respect.

And for the second time, she took her leave of him.

[waywardsummoner46]

Eternity, Part One

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x (?)Reader

Summary: You should’ve known that running from your past would be your downfall… you just never would’ve imagined it’d land you right into the waiting arms of an Endless, one that’s been searching for you for eons. he may be trapped for now, but your new job at Fawny Rig may just be the solution for that. Heed the warnings: you took something from him and now he must consume you for himself…

Word Count: 2392

Warnings: mind manipulation/control, possessive and obsessive behaviour, mental breakdown, suggestions of psychological torture, threat of bones collapsing,more to added with more chapters

A/N: Heyyyyy, I know it's a tad bit late to be posting the first part to a prologue that was released like two months ago but it's here now! And it's longer than what I usually write so I hope that makes up for it. Enjoy this while you can because Morpheus is about to get a whole lot freakin' worse. As always, I hope you're okay and let me know what you think!

Fawny Rig had an… impressive exterior, to say the least. 

  Chuckling to yourself, you knew that living in somewhere as grand and beautiful as there would be a concept you’d never be able to experience. Although, based on the job description, it seemed as though the owners were quite friendly and presumably welcoming enough for it to seem like some sort of a home.

   Holding the advertisement in your hand, you contemplated how this would actually work; were you to be a permanent resident? Semi-permanent? Maybe this would be a day thing? Exhaling once, you decided just to wing it (within reason, of course).

  Speaking of wings, there was the distinct sound of a raven squawking in the distance. Curiously, you looked around and smiled slightly when you saw a beautiful raven perched upon your bag handle. 

  “Oh, aren’t you beautiful?” 

  Almost naively, you reached out a hand with the childish hope of being able to stroke the creature. You completely ignored the health risks that came with birds and it appeared to work out in your favour as the raven’s wings preened and glittered as the sun reflected off of them. 

  A small smile spread across your face, “Oh yes, you are. Absolutely gorgeous.” 

  For a while, you merely stood over your bags and admired the raven, so majestically offering itself up for your generous petting. However, the more you stroked it, the more the distinct feeling that you’d seen it before grew. Come to think of it, your palm had started itching… again. God dammit, you seriously needed to keep track of your meds.

  Reluctantly, you pulled one hand away from the bird and reached for your tablets in your pocket. The incessant crinkling of the paper annoyed you and furthered the  pain of trying to extract a pill from its case. Once you’d finally managed to wriggle it out, you let out a triumphant sound.

  The bird was temporarily forgotten and as you lifted the tablet up to your mouth, the screeching of the raven caused you to drop the pill. Exasperated, you turned to the raven. “Come on, dude. I need those.”

  When the bird raised a brow, you blinked incredulously. But then, it cawed a final time and flew off with the rest of your medication. “Hey! Get back here! This isn’t funny, bird!”

  “Miss, is everything alright?” A timid voice called from the entrance to the manor. Oh jeez, this was embarrassing .

  Turning around with, what you hoped was, a friendly and not-at-all crazy smile on your face, you made the regrettable decision to forget about the bird. “Yes, thank you. Sorry, a raven just stole my medication. I’m not crazy, I swear,” you offered a light chuckle.

 Luckily, the young lady seemed to accept your words for she made idle chit-chat as she invited you in. The maid,  Blythe as she’d introduced herself, led you into a well-furnished and incredibly artefactual, antiquated living room and told you to enjoy the pre-prepared drinks as she called your employers.

  Glancing around the room as her rhythmic footsteps grew quieter, you began to realise how out of your depth you were; never in your life had you been responsible for a job on such an important scale before. It wasn’t even that the job was difficult or in anyway out of your capabilities, it’s just that the weight of-

  “Ah, (Y/N), a pleasure to meet you. How are you? How was your trip? I hope you’re familiar with basements because that’s where you’ll be situated,” Alex Burgess spoke from where he was being wheeled by his husband, Paul. His bluntness caught you slightly off-guard, there was something underlying there that clearly made him anxious if his darting eyes were any indication.

  Immediately, you stood and stretched out a hand. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Burgess. My trip was good, thank you. And, yes, basements are something I’m acclimated to,” well that was complete and utter bullshit. Basements were a big no-no for you. Nothing good ever came from them, nothing, especially after…

  “Blythe informed me that a… raven… flew away with your medication?” He asked, drawing you away from your thoughts. Embarrassingly, your cheeks flushed and you began to stutter.

  “Y-yeah, that’s right. I didn’t even realise until it nearly deafened me.”

  Alex Burgess seemed to tense in  his wheelchair, why? You did not know, but curiosity killed the cat. “Is everything okay?”

  Snapping out a daze, he gave you a quick glance before asking Paul to guide him back upstairs. “Everything’s fine, thank you.” He gave you one last small smile before turning his attention to Blythe, “If you could show Miss (Y/N) to her room and inform her of her duties that would be marvellous.”

  Blythe paled almost imperceptibly, but you noticed, you always noticed. Worry churned your gut and your head turned suspiciously. 

  “Do you mean…?”

  He nodded and that’s all the answer she had before both Burgesses left. 

  Frozen, she stood in place and stared through the floor. The emptiness in her eyes made you uneasy. You took a tentative step towards her, “Blythe?” Snapping her head towards you, she stumbled away, her expression signifying she was seeing something you could not. “Woah, Blythe, take deep breaths. You’re safe, no one’s going to hurt you.”

  The young maid was incapable of listening, of seeing reason. Tempted to call for someone, you paused when her panicked breathing came to a halt. Similarly to before, she acted as though you were a window except this time she started muttering. It was indistinguishable at first, it soon grew to murmurs, to normal words, to shouts, and finally to panicked, urgent yells of pure unadulterated terror. 

  “Leave! You need to leave! He’s here, he knows you’re here. He won’t stop until you give. It. BACK! GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT BACK!” 

  Now it was you who was frozen. Rational thought escaped you, instead overwhelming confusion and slight panic consumed you. What was she talking about? Who was “he”? How did he know you were here? What did he want back?

  Two men clad in suits walked in and wrestled with Blythe’s manic form out of the room, leaving you haunted by her echoing screams down the corridors. Concerned, though you were, bewilderment ceased you from forming any coherent functions for a time - only when Paul came to escort you to your room did you snap out of your daze.

  He made small talk as he guided you to your room, apologising for your rocky and traumatising beginning and assuring you that tomorrow wouldn’t be like this. You responded in kind, albeit numbly. In all honesty, you were disturbed with everyone’s behaviour above all else; Alex seemed anxious at  the mention of a raven, then Blythe had had a mental breakdown and what appeared to be a flashback and now, Paul was acting as though he was used to it, as though they were all used to it. 

  Despite your brain not working at full capacity, you managed to bid Paul a good evening and settled in for an early night. Despite your brain not working at full capacity, you knew that there was something going on here, something they were hiding. You’d be damned if you weren’t going to find out… What worried you was this man Blythe had spoken about and how he knew you were here. Another resident, perhaps? A neighbour? Couldn’t be, there wasn’t another house for miles, at least not one that you’d seen. 

  You had no further options, so you surrendered to exhaustion and hoped that your dreams might bring you some peace…

You were in the forest again. The same one. The same leaves crunching under your feet, the same sounds being your breath, the same stars gazing down at you from the heavens and the same raven, cawing nervously from where it was standing next to your sitting form.

  Regarding it with suspicion, you hesitantly gestured for it to perch itself on your shoulder. Once it did, your suspicion turned into contentment. Nature always puts you at ease, and after the night you’d had you needed a break. Speaking of the night you’d had,  your thoughts began to drift towards the inner turmoil Blythe’s outburst had caused you.

  The abruptness of the entire situation wasn’t lost on you, in fact, it only made you more and more anxious about the job you’d applied for on a whim. Because that’s all it was, wasn’t it? A whim?

  Your eyes absentmindedly traced the curves and edges of the leaves around you as you reflected on the past few days: you’d always made a point to consider things and pinpoint each and every outcome. Your experiences and past had instilled that habit into you from a very young age so your careless decision to take this job was extremely uncharacteristic and that scared you.

  No matter who you surround yourself with, you ensured that you never grew an attachment that could influence your decision making so you were left puzzled over your future and past - your present, even!

  Leaves crunching to your right jolted you out of your reverie. In your skittishness, the raven flew off your shoulder and onto the man who’d entered your space. You registered vaguely that you recognised him, his chiselled features and ethereal complex making it nigh impossible to forget and yet, a headache brewed when you thought too hard about it, about anything really.

  Your eyes looked over him and widened when they met his own; it was pure darkness. Pure darkness with hints of white, of-of stars, you realised, this man had literal space within his eyes.

  Dazedly, you muttered, “What the hell?”

  Calmly and with the grace of a king, he moved towards you. Half of you fought to step back but the other half was utterly captivated by his gaze, completely caught up in the vastness of his eyes and the emptiness within. 

  Suddenly, his gaze turned more intense and all fight left you within an instant. That stuck you as odd, why did your emotions sway that intensely? 

  Before you could question it, he raised his hand, his palm facing the sky, and your eyes were inexplicably glued to it. There was something scarily familiar about this situation… but even that nagging feeling wasn’t enough for you to ignore the urge to place your hand in his own. Eyes completely focused and brain becoming fuzzier by the second, you took in a shuddering gasp and moved your arm up.

  The distance between each of your hands was closing and with it the lack of coherent thought in your brain, the lack of any idea apart from take his hand.

  His celestial eyes were staring hungrily at your hand and when it finally, finally, made contact with his own, he let out a gasp so loud that it broke you out of whatever stupor you’d been in.

  “What the hell? Who are y-mmph!”

  The man had pulled you into his chest and now had both of his arms caging you in, like a bird imprisoned, completely helpless to its situation. Too awestruck to do anything apart from numbly stare into his shoulder, you struggled to comprehend your situation. You knew that this was a dream and yet the complete and utter ridiculous situation and worrying feelings you were experiencing caused scepticism to dominate your brain.

  The man was warm, you had to admit. Probably because of his intricately crafted black cloak. He was also strong if the feeling of his arms around you and your unfortunately placed hands on his chest were of any significance. 

  “Are you gonna let go any time soon, mister? Orrrrr…” 

  Speaking up was the wrong thing to do; his arms tightened once more except, they didn’t actually stop. You grew confused, and scared, especially once it became difficult to breathe. Was he trying to kill you with a hug? That would look amazing on a tombstone: “Death by Hug.” 

  Regardless of your wandering mind, your physical body was under extreme stress. Bones began to grind together and you could’ve sworn you heard some crack. There was no pain, though, so perhaps you were overreacting in the uncomfortable moment.

  “Once we have merged, my love, I will finally be able to care for you in the way only you deserve. But you must give it up to me, willingly,” his low voice directly in your ears sent chills down your spine. There it was again, this giving someone something back. Blythe’s outburst seriously did affect you, didn’t it?

  “This is no mere dream, little one. Have you truly forgotten me?”

  You tried to pull back slightly, to garner any sort of information from his facial expression that you couldn’t from his tone of voice, but he withheld unbearably tight - it was a struggle to even understand what he’d said. 

  You wet your lips, “I don’t even know who I… am… anymore.”

  Like he’d been struck, he reeled back and peered intensely into your half lidded eyes. He looked scandalised, but why? He didn’t know you, he didn’t even exist outside of this dream! You’d just had a taxing day and your subconscious was taking it out on you.

  A sudden look of pure rage crossed his face and you flinched back much like he had done only seconds before. As quickly as it had appeared, it vanished into a look of cold indifference. 

  “Then there is only one thing to be done.”

  Just like that, you awoke. The first thing you registered was the sounds of shouting, shortly thereafter an agonising scream permeated throughout the manor and you were instantly wide awake.

  Somehow you knew, you didn’t know how but you knew that something was wrong with Blythe. Something was wrong with this house and its residents. And you had a sneaking suspicion that it all stemmed from this… man… who haunted them before and who now haunts you.

  Fear unlike any other twisted your heart painfully behind your ribcage. Yet there was also something pulling at it, almost willing it in a way, to leave the room and investigate what was happening.   So you did what any other person would do - you left the confines of your room into what would unknowingly change your life… for eternity.

_____________

Tag list~

@lweina​

@azrielloveselain​

@the-ruler-of-death​

@moonmaiden1996​

@intothesoul​

@lilithskywalker​

@amandarobertsboyce

@carolcrysis​

[roguelov]

Okay so I got an idea for spicy saturday

Imagine dark!Morpheus (because I like him dark, you know me, Rouge 🤭) with a reader who suddenly cancels a date with him. This is a totally impulsive decision on reader's part because she has had a really rough day, she hasn't been out in a while, her friends were buying the drinks and besides, he's always busy, right?? Meanwhile, Dream is waiting for her to fall asleep so she can be with him but she doesn't arrive, and since her going out was totally unplanned, she wasn't able to give him a note at all

Oh the punishment awaiting our poor reader!!! The dirty, unspeakable things he'd do: maybe keep reader for a time in his room, maybe tie her up so he's sure she knows who her time belongs to - i'll let your imagination do the rest!!!!

DOTIE HOLY SHIT YES YES YES A MILLION TIMES YES

Like you letting loose for once and catching up with old friends (and have a blast) and you assume, a horrible assumption, that Dream would be okay (I mean it’s just one date and he usually has to reschedule anyway because of his duties) and once you finally get home and drift off into the Dreaming trouble is already waiting for you 😈

You slowly stirred awake. Your drunken fueled headache from moments ago pushed into the far recesses of your mind. Yet, the taste still lingered on your tongue. You groaned softly and curled -

Wait.

You couldn’t move your wrists, or your legs either. Your eyes widened, now fully aware of the situation you found yourself in. Whipping your head around, you were in Dream’s room; you knew his silk sheets well. However, it was so dark, so cold.

“Dream?” You asked the darkness. “What - what the hell is this?”

You don’t see him, but feel an ominous presence at the foot of the bed. “You did not show for our date.”

You flinched. “Ah, uh, right, and I’m sorry but I wanted to go out and have a drink with my friends. It was so last minute and we hadn’t talked -“

“You abandoned me for mortal friends and potential alcohol poisoning?”

“I - I, uh, well -“

A presence was immediately beside you. You felt him bent down, and his warmth breath on your ear. “It is quite rude, and frankly insulting to treat myself and our relationship as such. You left no indication where you ran off to.”

“I’m sorry, Dream, really I -“

A hand wrapped around your throat gently squeezing out your air. You gasped. “No more excuses,” he whispered with a low growl. “I think you need a reminder who you belong to.”

He jerked your head, forcing you to look at him. All you saw through the darkness was the stars in his eyes.

“Now, who do you belong to?” His hand cupped your face, and skimmed his thumb along your bottom lip.

You shivered. “… you.”

He scoffed, “Louder, sweet one. I want your friends to hear you back in the Waking.”

[noforkingclue]

Hey hun, how about a dark!Morpheus that gets upset when one of his worshippers turns their attention to another god? Love all your work and I’m absolutely thrilled you are taking requests again.

Note: requests are currently closed

Of course anon! I hope you like the fic!

Title: Worship Me

Warning: dark fic

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

How could you do this to him?

Morpheus watched you as you laughed with your friends. You laid down on the grass and closed your eyes, inhaling deeply. You smiled as you exhaled and laughed at something one of those supposed friends of yours had said. Those friends who had taken you so selfishly away from him.

The shadows around him deepened and you shivered, sitting up and wrapping your arms around yourself.  Morpheus twitched at the urge to pull you into his arms. You shouldn’t be uncomfortable. Once you were with him he’d never allow to feel any sort of discomfort again. The thought of you curled up in his bed entered his mind and the faintest of smiles appeared on his lips.

Yes.

Yes eventually you’d be his.

How would you react to seeing the God you spent so much time devoted to in the flesh? Would you get on your knees in reverence (he liked that thought a bit too much) or would you be scared. Frightened to see the God you had abandoned in favour for another?

Would you be afraid of him? Cowering before him in fear that he would plague you with nightmares. He could be cruel to those who displeased him but up until recently you had been most pleasing. It might take some to reassure you that he would mean you no harm, as long as you continued to worship him. He would savour the moment he could finally press his body against yours, capture your lips with his, to see your body under his.

He would never do anything to hurt you. That was the truth. You were too precious to him to ever hurt. Well, at least physically. Morpheus was a patient man but even he had his limits. Just few mild nightmares. Nothings to scar you too much but enough to make you pliant.

As for those ‘friends’ of yours.

Morpheus’s eyes narrowed as one helped you to your feet and led you away from him. To that temple of the other God. The one who so deceivingly swept you away from him. Well, those people where hardly good friends and therefore they would not be spared from his wrath. They would be punished for taking you away from him.

Another that would be suitably dealt with would be that so called God you had turned to. That God might be powerful to mortals, such as yourself, but he was an Endless and therefore infinitely more powerful. Dealing with him was going to be enjoyable.

[fastlikealambo]

the invitation.|| a vampire!dream of the endless x black fem!reader fic.

summary: too kind for your own good, you release a trapped man in your boss's basement and strangely enough forget all about it.

one year later, you're invited to his wedding as a thank you for saving his life. as your memories of that fateful night start to return and things go bump in the night, you realize there's something very strange going on.

where is the bride?

a vampire! morpheus fic inspired by the movies the invitation and crimson peak. heavy on the gothic romance and melodrama.

this is the tag post for the fic! If you'd like to be tagged when part 1 drops, reply to this!

18+ only, ageless and blank blogs will be ignored.

[aphroditelovesu]

can you write a love/romantic letter 💌 , gender, neutral reader from the show sandman and the letter is from Dream AKA lord Morpheus please and thank 😊🥰 ❤️❤️❤️

My beloved dreamer,

My heart was captured by an intense and overwhelming passion and you are to blame. Every thought I have is dedicated to you, and the very idea of ​​being away from you causes me anguish beyond description.

I have been watching your steps in my Kingdom, visiting your deepest desires and yearnings. My presence at your side, although invisible, has been a constant in your dream nights. Through the dreamlike landscapes, I have witnessed the beauty of your soul so close and personal.

I feel a deep, mysterious connection between us, something that transcends barriers of time and space. My love for you grows every moment, and the desire to protect and keep you only for me is something that consumes me.

I must request for you to forgive me for any pain my actions may have caused or may cause. My intention is only to take care of you in the best way I know how even if that means taking extreme measures.

I realize that my emotions can be overwhelming, sometimes even frightening and misunderstood, but that's only because the love I feel for you is infinite and uncontrollable. I would do anything to keep you safe, to preserve our love forever.

Remember, my love, that everything I do is because I cannot bear the thought of losing you. You are my reason for existing, the light that guides my way through the darkness of the world. I promise to love you, protect you, and care for you, even if it means going beyond conventional boundaries.

With everlasting love,

Dream of the Endless.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 8)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

GIF: Originally posted by @darklinsblog

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

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

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Nightmares. Violence. Dub/non con. Kissing. Nudity. AFAB + AMAB penetrative sex. Unprotected sex. Plot related cigarette use. Language.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hello there! I wasn't intending on posting this chapter until I had the others finished but I guess Tumblr took that decision away from me and published instead of saving! Oh well, guess I'll roll with it. As always, I hope you enjoy and would be very happy to hear your thoughts. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

The combination of the darkened clouds and the even more desaturated décor is making the room despairingly claustrophobic.

Sporadic breaths rattle up and down your trachea; a remnant of the fear that had been created by the tail end of that conversation. You are struggling to make sense of the direction it had taken; the barrelling downward spiral whereby you discovered your newfound status.

No longer do you hold the lone title of soulmate. You are a captive.

At least that's what Morpheus made it sound like. The word is shudder inducing and a fresh trickle of bile spills into your mouth.

The door he left through, the one blocking your freedom, you are standing close enough to it that you can see every grain and groove of the ebony wood - and the curious absence of a handle or lock. With a flattened hand you gingerly press against the varnished surface, upping the pressure when you don't appear to have tripped any alarms. There's no movement no matter how hard you push, not that you really anticipated any. Morpheus said locked in for a reason. Regardless, you feel that you needed to try just in case he had changed his mind. Again, an eventuality that you do not expect.

You get the sense that Morpheus' grasp of stubbornness would rival that belonging to a group of at least 100,000 people; he is a ruler, and a centuries-old one at that. Accustomed to being in control, well versed in the art of exerting it.

He's chilling too. That nightmare quality really won out just now. You have seen darkness in his eyes before, (brought on by intense moments including sexual desire) and the effects he can have on the environments surrounding him, but this was a whole new breed.

The deflection. The disdain. The remorselessness. How the shadows had danced around him like crude oil twisting in water, a cloak of obscurity and energy to drive you away and leave you isolated.

And your relentlessness was the catalyst for it being unleashed. You're unsure as to why you brought up the theoretical consequences of refusing to be his soulmate. It had just slipped out. There were numerous other ways in which you could have handled the situation yet that was the conversational path you took.

You shudder again, wrapping your arms around your middle in an attempt to self-soothe. It provides a measure of relief but also draws attention to the fact that he should be doing this. Morpheus should be holding you. Talking this through with you.

Instead he left you standing on the marble floor, the intrinsically endothermic nature of the material causing iciness to seep up your legs via your bare feet.

Seeking warmth, you move back to the bed and dejectedly lie down.

The usual covered plate of food has appeared on the bedside table; your expression is so obviously rattled that you can see every detail despite the metal's distortion. You roll over, not wanting to contemplate eating for even a second.

Your entire body is tense, with epicentres in your tight chest and thought-clogged brain, the latter of which is showing signs of inducing a migraine. You breathe with steady intent, a review of the encounter relentlessly replaying.

One question keeps rising to the surface, getting louder and more insistent with each iteration:

Why was he doing this?

He had said it was to protect you. That it was dangerous outside. Was the dream world suddenly that different now that you had free will? Surely he would have led with that if it were true. Found a way to make it safe...

He's been unfalteringly devoted to you in every other way thus far. The aftercare looked to be proof enough of his character. The reassurance, and explanations during the soul-tying. Holding you. Staying beside you while you slept, even though he did not require the rest himself.

But then there is the distinct lack of sharing, both of his internal and external worlds, and of course the 'it is not your place to do so' comment.

That one really stings. You had been convinced that you were his equal. Yet the way the words fell so easily from his mouth, without hesitation nor any sign of an underpinning emotion - it sounded like a response that was not uttered in the heat of the moment.

How were you to know though?

You've not known him for that long and it's not like you can tell from the bond between you, even now after days of longing to and trying to pick up on something, anything that would inform you of his heart. The one thing you can attempt to read into is the state of the ceiling sky; you are getting a sense that it is linked directly to his moods. Its sudden deterioration the moment you had voiced your concerns couldn't have been a coincidence, could it?

The more you grapple for meaning, the harder you are finding it to reconcile the evidence before you, so conflicted on your opinion of him, of the situation. Yet no amount of speculation and reframing could take away from the few facts you have:

The Fates had told you of an unfathomably long imprisonment that Morpheus had endured and suffered in.

So why was he putting you in a parallel of that?

How can someone who is supposed to be your soulmate be so unreadable to you, and so inexplicably cruel?

You curl into a ball, groaning out loud in frustration.

You ponder if there is something defective within you, if he can see something that you are too human to perceive. Maybe you deserve this on some level because you are not quite enough for him.

"No," you say out loud, firmly casting that contemptuous thought out of your mind.

You will not go in for self-loathing or self-pity. You are strong and capable and compassionate. Morpheus is still your soulmate. You can fix this. Once he's back, you will talk about this.

The resolution seems to lessen the lingering despair enough that you unwittingly fall asleep.

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

There's an anticipatory undercurrent to the chatter being passed back and forth across the circular tables spaced evenly across the function room.

You're sat at one such table, the hands folded in your lap occasionally brushing against the heavy dark blue velvet draped over the wood, the feel of the material's sumptuous pile triggering pleasant goosebumps.

Ice laden water jugs and bowls of savoury snacks occupy the middle of the table, and each seat is designated by a placeholder. Your name is displayed in a bold font across the folded piece of stiff card in front of you and the names of all your colleagues have been typed out on matching markers.

The lighting could be described as ambient, moody even - a strange choice for such a celebratory event. The strongest source of light is directed towards a projection screen, where the order of events are being presented.

You thumb the lock screen button on the right hand side of your phone to check the time. 20:28. The scheduled break is due to end soon. You take a sip of water from the tumbler stamped with your lipstick and wait.

The microphone on the podium clicks and crackles as it is brought back to life and all heads turn in unison towards the man standing there. A spotlight provided by the professional lighting rig suspended above is ignited, the light from it so bright that it obscures every feature on his face.

His tone is light as he reels off a few formalities, making a joke about the speed of which some individuals had headed to the bar come the start of the interval, eliciting a sequence of throaty laughs from the crowd. He then jumps back into the award giving.

"This person, I know for a fact has really been putting in the effort with developing the traits required to truly embody this accolade and everything it stands for. Taking gullible to the next level, allowing themself to be debased and shutting down all logical reasoning. A veritable inspiration of inconsequentiality; therefore, it comes as no surprise that the award for most worthless human goes to -"

He pauses for effect, and the entire room watches on with baited breath.

Condensation beads slip down the outside of the jug closest to you, mirroring a perspiration bead that has begun to slide from your nape. You look away from the stage, feeling an impending sense of doom slink into your stomach with the nausea that suddenly washes over you. Your intuition is well-founded.

The microphone wheezes as the man inhales the breath needed to deliver the announcement.

He says your name.

The applause that follows is rapturous; a chorus of hollers and whistles punctuating the clapping. It's like you're at a rock concert.

None of it aligns with the damning description of the award name. Under no circumstance do you want to go and accept it; doing so would show that you agree with the committee.

You sneak a glance over your shoulder, wincing at the harsh fluorescents spilling in from the foyer through the set of double doors - that is where you quietly need to get to.

You're pushing your chair back slowly and carefully, about to attempt this surreptitious exit when a spotlight hits you. The hand going for your bag freezes mid-reach.

It's as if a tractor beam has been activated. You cannot stop yourself from standing, cannot stop yourself from walking on the scuffed wooden floor, made that way from years of dancing.

The journey to the stage on your shaky legs is long, given your distance from it, intensified even further by the stares of your peers. You go up the steps at the side of the stage, jelly legs adding risk with the slight elevation. You grip the handrail in a white-knuckled fist.

The award waits on the podium: an oversized key on a black plinth, the golden colour of the metal glints temptingly. With your gaze turned downwards, the man shakes your hand with the pressure of a constrictor, praising you with words that you can't hear above the continued applause.

You force your mouth into a smile and ready yourself to take the award, telling yourself that being gracious is the best approach you can take.

Unfortunately, in your moment of acceptance, someone decides to take advantage.

There's a blow to the back of your knee caps.

You cry out from shock and pain; the sound doesn't last long for as soon as your knees make impact with the boards, a gag is forced into your mouth.

The situation and the gag make it hard to breathe in any way other than frantically, pulse just as agitated in your tight-feeling chest.

The crowd's clapping doesn't stop even as intricate restraints are added at your wrists, even as burning tears and sticky snot stream down your face.

The agony intensifies when you are hauled up by your hair and then herded by several pairs of hands towards the wings of the stage. Your eyes fall on the opaque box that stands just out of view of the crowd.

Its purpose is clear. It is to be your cage.

You're now screaming despite the gag, thrashing as you're dragged towards your doom. Not even allowing yourself to be a dead weight can save you; the cloying fingers are too numerous, too zealous.

The door to the cage opens and the presence of the oppressive void within ekes out towards you like a disturbing fog. Whatever is in there, you can sense it will smother you. Obliterate you slowly. And the people in this room seem to believe you are worthy of such a fate.

The hands anchored on your body begin their last pushes. You whip your head around, making a last attempt to search for an escape when you see a figure out the corner of your eye.

There's no questioning who it is; the person who has been on the periphery of so many dreams these past weeks, you would know him anywhere.

You see a glimpse of movement. Perhaps the raising of a hand. A ripple of power courses through the scene - you feel it vibrate in your chest. Everything freezes, and in that sudden silence you hear Morpheus' solemn and decisive words:

"This dream is over."

You startle, a shriek echoing about the sunless space as you are ripped from the dream. The sheets have you wrapped up like a python; you try with desperation to get free, half-convinced that those relentless hands are still trying to ferry you into that cage.

Floundering, you work and work against the fabric, crying out again when your progress is minimal.

"Soulmate."

Morpheus' deep voice sounds, speaking your name next in such an intimate and gentle way that you instantly halt in your struggle.

He is beside you.

All the attributes of concern are in his facial expression and body language, eyes glistening with an emotion you can't quite place.

"It is over now," he confirms, dissolving the sheet into nothing.

He comes closer, stroking your face with one hand, the other atop your chest with the palm centred on your soul. It's a welcome feeling, his attentions and being free from the tangle of sheets, but you are too far gone for it to stop the fear that the nightmare has set in motion.

"When you said that it was not my place to accompany you, is it because you think I'm less than you?" You ask in a cracking, pitiful voice.

Morpheus stills for a heartbeat, before bending his head to look you straight in the eyes. "No," he breathes. "My soulmate, I could never think that."

He kisses you softly.

It's not what you expected but nevertheless your hands cling to him on instinct, kissing him back and then he's suddenly straddling you. Covering your body with his own to give you a feeling of safety and it's exactly what you require.

You're on the verge of tears from it all, touching the back of his neck, gripping his shoulders to keep him close.

"Morpheus," you call.

"I am here. I am not going anywhere."

He kisses you deeper this time as if to corroborate his statement. It incrementally lessens your doubts and anxieties but there's a call for communication too.

"We need to talk about what happened," you say with quiet assertion.

For a moment, you wonder if he has even heard you for he claims your mouth again.

"I do not wish to talk," he eventually replies, immediately diving back in for yet another kiss. "I wish to take away your anguish."

"But -"

He hushes you, a soothing shut down that would be infuriating if not for the lingering unease of the nightmare clogging your emotions. "Let us forget what was said. Let us instead indulge in the pleasure of each other's bodies."

You blink, slowly processing his explicit inference, taken aback by the very obvious physical reactions they inspire. You force yourself to adopt a professional expression as your arousal begins to leak onto your gown.

"I want to talk to you."

He's smiling smugly as he tilts his head to the side. "Your emotions betray you dearest, as does your body. I know exactly what you want and it is not conversation."

Shame rises but is quickly blotted out by Morpheus' next action.

You feel bare skin against yours; he's used his power to disrobe you as well as him. A protest forms - he stifles it with his mouth. Your eyes are wide as you take it, as he shifts his weight ever so slightly to align your hips.

His own eyes stare you down after he pulls back, unblinking like an apex predator who has caught sight of its favourite prey.

Easy prey.

That's what you are.

He arranges you as such too; grasping your legs and moving your knees to your chest to bend you in half. Pinning you underneath him.

Neither of you last long with the tightness of the angle once you allow him to enter you.

To say you are dazed afterwards would be an understatement. The events of the past few hours have been persistently erratic. If Morpheus feels the same then it isn't apparent. The colour of his eyes are as clear and stable as the weather above, hand warming his favoured spot on your chest.

Your own hands wander up and down his body, running smoothly over his enticing skin.

"You have not touched your food," he comments quietly.

One of your palms moves absentmindedly to trail lazily across your abdomen. "If I'm being honest, I've been struggling to eat since I got here. For some reason I have no appetite or thirst."

"That would be a result of the immortality."

Your hands freeze up, brain doing the opposite as it spins out in a hundred directions.

"W-what did you say?" You stammer, praying you have misheard him.

"The immortality," he clarifies. "My power is within you and with it, comes certain endurances."

You sit up and put some space between you both. This was a serious matter. Despite your empty stomach you feel like you are going to vomit.

"How long have you known that?"

"It does not matter."

Red rag to a bull doesn't come close to covering what his dismissive reply makes you feel. The set of your jaw is so tight that a section on the left side begins to feather. You talk through gritted teeth, levelling a furious glare at him - making it transparent that you are not going to tolerate his evasiveness any longer:

"Tell me how long."

He makes the smart decision to pause to select his reply, though you decipher from the suddenly overcast sky that it is not going to be one that you will like.

"Since our souls joined."

Your hand flies to your chest, to your soul as tears start to brew.

"That was days ago!"

Morpheus simply looks at you.

"Did you not think that I had a right to know about something as life changing as that?"

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can issue a syllable.

"Please can you give me some time alone?"

Morpheus' intense stare - the one that had gone from intimidating to exhilarating - has now become distressing and you need to get out from under it.

To his credit, he does what you asked and the moment the door is closed, the tears you have been holding back start to flow freely. The ceiling sky is so crowded with dark clouds that you are convinced that it's going to do the same as your eyes.

You feel like you've been tricked. You didn't ask for this, nor were you consulted.

The gilding has fully tarnished now, revealing that things were too good to be true. And had been from the very beginning. You had been swept up in the haze of sexual satisfaction, too blinded by the soul bond to see clearly. The nightmare had spelled it out flawlessly: gullible, debased and without logical reasoning.

The previous success in derailing your self-loathing falls short now. You are bolting down the path of internal admonishment.

How could you have been so naïve?

The answer is your hubris. It had felt good to be finally wanted, chosen to be a part of something bigger than yourself by making a difference to the Dreaming. Unless you had misunderstood.

No, the Fates had told you it in no uncertain terms. What they hadn't done however was provide a time frame. You had stupidly assumed it would be effective immediately. Instead you could be looking at decades, centuries even with this newfound information.

Even with the promise of eventual fulfilment, there was little chance that you would last for years in this room with your sanity intact.

You need distraction from the demoralising thought so you bluster through your bathroom routine like a whirlwind, slamming containers down where possible and huffing out exasperated sounds.

While the gown has re-materialised on the hook by the shower, you are dead set against putting it back on. You go to the bedside table and dive into the drawers to find your clothes from the night of the award ceremony, uncovering the cigarettes and lighter you forgot had been hidden there.

You don't even think before lighting one up, hoping that the nicotine will take the edge off your despair. You are quick to finish it and the clarity it brings encourages you to have a second. And then a third.

From the combination of your reclined position on the sheets and the dainty way you hold each cigarette, you can't help but feel like a 1940s starlet. It injects a bit of delirious humour, and also gumption into the mix.

"You are not at fault here," you whisper out loud. "He is the one who has an understanding of how soulmates work. He withheld that. You are allowed to be pissed off with him and you should let him see it."

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

By the time Morpheus returns, you are in full possession of your wits and sit perched at the foot of the bed. You regard each other; he appears a touch drawn out, eyes subdued and a small line marking the space between his eyebrows.

"You have been smoking," he states flatly.

Buoyed by the confidence gifted to you by said activity, you inhale the scent of the lingering bluish fog, flashing a sardonic smile as you audibly breathe out, labouring the point with the pleasurable sigh.

"What else was I supposed to do while I waited for you to come back?" You cross your legs and smooth out a non-existent wrinkle in the bedclothes you meticulously rearranged.

The effects of your sarcasm are immediate; the air is becoming ominously dense, threatening to unleash a storm of epic proportions. Morpheus' fists clench and the pressure is dampened a fraction.

"Give them to me," he asks in a monotone.

"No."

Your connection is so devoid of dissonance at this point. Morpheus is stone carved. The kind of impenetrable that would shred and destroy finger nails; there is no point in trying to claw your way to the being beneath. The apathy sends your anger to new heights, compelling that shamefully vindictive part of you into lashing out. You want to hurt him just as he has hurt you.

"They're the only thing I have left from my real life."

A lethal quality seeps into his reply, "That life ended the moment you stepped out onto that street."

"Well then I should have run from you that night," you provoke further, tone biting as glacial ice on exposed skin.

The same shadows from before are crowding about his person, settling in his eyes - a tell that you have unleashed the nightmare form. You have to actively remind yourself to breathe at an even pace. All things you had queued up to say to him are long gone as you gaze upon his dark majesty.

"Even if you had been able to evade me, hide your physical body, I would have found you the moment you fell asleep."

The tether on his control slips as a single bolt of lightning turns the room to a white-out. The thunder never comes, instead the rumble of his voice.

"Do not think that I had not anticipated a refusal. I was more than prepared to use force to get what I wanted. What I was promised. I will not share you with anyone. You are mine. My soulmate. You -"

He stops unexpectedly and head snapping to look at the door.

You roll your eyes. "Let me guess, something requires your attention."

He takes in a deep breath. "I will return shortly."

You watch sullenly as he leaves you behind yet again, about to resume smoking when you feel an urge to re-examine the door. It is as pointless as before; no handle nor locks. Your fists hit the mahogany once, then twice before your composure fully deteriorates and you begin to hammer on it. Not because you are hoping to snag someone's awareness, for you heard it from Morpheus that no one could find this place. Sadly, you do it because you are losing hope.

Dejection momentarily quelled, you resort to staring at the door with such concentration that you fear it may trigger another headache.

"How the fuck do you work?" You ask it.

If there is no tangible way of holding it then that left the metaphysical as its locking mechanism. Metaphysical power that came from him - that now resided in you.

Maybe you could use it to break out...

You huff out a laugh at your optimism. There is no harm in trying.

Decision made, you make a quick trip to the bathroom to get the ruby ring you put by the sink. There's no chance you're escaping and leaving a beloved family heirloom behind.

You walk confidently to the door and plant yourself a forearm's length from it. The gold of the ring glimmers on your right hand as your press your palm to the glossy wood.

You do not want to be the person you were in the nightmare; forced into a box-encased void and cut off from the universe. You want to learn, to experience, to love. You want to have dreams and you're willing to make them with or without their master.

You are going to get out of here.

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

Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind. On the borderline of the edge, and where I walk alone."

[aralezinspace]

ok ok ok I had a super angsty idea that's prob gonna make its way into Blade in the Dark but also may get written as a reader insert:

The oldest game, but instead of Lucifer, Choronzon chooses reader to represent him- making them battle dream CUE THE ANGST 🤩

For Blade in the Dark it'd be Yeraz which would be a whole different flavor of angst given their history with Dream I'm so excited to write these

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Promises Five: The Hunt

Dark!Morpheus x (female)reader, fantasy/medieval AU, 18+

Master List

Dream of the Endless had been promised a bride.

A/N: I'll offer song recs to folks who are interested in asks! Still dealing with some mental health issues, but pushing through. HOLY SHIT THE NEXT CHAPTER. 0,0 Liking is sweet, commenting is divine. Talk to the lonely hermit, people. Her dog is tired of her shit.

The hounds sang after the hinds, and their masters followed them under the trees.

In the distance, the high castle sat like a toy house from which all the dolls had escaped, spreading their games and pageantry through the forest with bells and horns to warn away the deer and fox. Huntsmen released other deer, fox, and fowl from prearranged cages out of sight of the king and his swarm of courtiers, so the dolls could play pretend at feats of skill.

The bard kept to the back, holding a tight rein on her grey mare – who didn’t understand why she couldn’t stop and graze if the bard insisted on moving so slowly – in the company of the ladies Alder. Eilwyn, who’d visited the bard’s chamber two nights past, glimmered and glowed, illuminated like a piece of art in the dappled sunlight and the eyes of a few dozen would-be suitors. Officially, no one could pay court until the Endless had his pick. Unofficially, Eilwyn had received six declarations of love, five bad poems about her eyes, one good poem about her hair, and an uninspired puzzle box containing a gaudy necklace without a single gem of value.

Eilwyn loved it all, of course.

But as the younger woman amused herself snaring hearts for her collection, the bard conversed with the Dowager Alder, Eilwyn’s grandmother.

“The city lights are unbearable,” the elder Alder insisted. “My eyes are bad enough as it is, but when every street and tavern glows like the moon, I can hardly make out the planets with my telescope, let alone the fainter stars. With the travel time, I’ll lose whole weeks of work, and gods know if I’ll be alive to note my calculations this time next year.”

Manly shouts and howling dogs suggested something ahead had died, or was about to. The bard wondered how many of these fools in their fine furs would discover the material cost of bloodsport when they couldn’t scrub the stains from their velvets in the morning.

“You say that every year.”

The Elder Alder, on her aged palfrey, squinted at the green canopy shielding her beloved sky and tutted.

“And one year I’ll be right, like I always am in the end.”

The woman was an astronomer, a mathematical magician, and the idea of death hadn’t scared her since the bard first met her as a young maid. The wheel of the heavens moved before her, and it would move after, and that was well enough if she could just understand the damn thing before she shuffled off this mortal coil. She’d written books, and papers, and more books, and the bard wondered if Death would really hold off until the universe held no more mysteries. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Of course, Lady Alder.”

Arthritis had long-since gnarled the lady’s hands, and they twisted over the saddle pommel and a hank of her horse’s main like knobby cypress knees, straining with the roll and sway of her palfrey’s gait.

“How far is the damned camp?”

Another lady – one of the fools hoping to wed her daughter to the Endless riding very far ahead near the king – seized the reins of her precious child’s horse and passed the odd trio. She did not look to the side. She did not look at anything. She lifted her nose far too high. And she nearly trotted over her own servants in passing.

The bard waved, and the daughter gawked with wide eyes as she was spirited away from poor influences and dangerous words. Really, any damage was already done, and fleeing the scene of battle only showed weakness. What kind of lesson would the girl really learn besides the fact that her mother enjoyed making a spectacle of her piety? Parents really had the strangest ideas about children.

“Grandmother!” Eilwyn exclaimed, clearly delighted.

The bard, equally delighted, couldn’t help herself. “Such language from so fair a lady. Shocking.”

The Dowager shifted in her saddle, face puckered in discomfort. “Hush, the both of you.”

Oh, if only she could. She laughed to imagine how much pain and trouble might’ve been saved. And how many adventures missed. They never would’ve been friends at all if the bard kept her own counsel.

“You expect a bard to hold her tongue?”

“The sun will freeze first.” The Dowager made a point of staring down her granddaughter, though, and her granddaughter made a point of smiling very prettily in reply. A lord several lengths ahead called for Lady Eilwyn’s attention, and she brokered an armistice by riding out of her grandmother’s line of sight entirely, leaving the two old companions to fight their own wars.

“My old bones are not made for riding.”

A jolt of pity seared the bard’s belly like the pain after eating a rotten fish. She’d rather purge it and be done, but the prickling discomfort would only grow with age. There was no course but to swallow it down and imagine it hurt much less than it would in time.

“Why didn’t you take the coach then? It could’ve brought you in comfort.”

Swollen knuckles flexing, the lady scoffed. “With the rest of the invalids? Don’t insult me.”

“But it’s so much fun, old friend.”

“Old,” Lady Alder muttered. “Yes. I am that.”

The bard shifted in her own saddle, wondering if she could stomach any of the inevitable banquet awaiting them.

“That wasn’t the word I’d hoped you’d echo.”

An eye sharper than any hawk’s pinned her from the side, and she felt like a child caught sulking. “If you need reassurance as to that, then you are not half so clever as you make yourself out to be.”

She seized on the opportunity for levity and smiled with all her teeth. “You’ve known me for a fool many years, have you not?”

“Aye, but a clever one.” The lady considered. “Most days.”

“Such praise you give me.”

“You fished for it so often the lake is empty.”

“Unfair but not untrue.”

The lady hummed her affirmation, welcoming in a moment of calm as they road in the wake of the hunt’s chaos.

Ahead, those most eager to prove themselves brought down smaller prey on their way to the day’s camp. Once all had a chance to refresh themselves with wine as their horses grazed, most would sally out again in the name of dead beasts. Dusk would bring them back, and they’d spend the night drinking, feasting, and debauching one another just outside the safe ring of torchlight, pretending to be very daring and wild for fucking someone in a bush.  A bit more hunting in the morning for those who could still sit straight in the saddle, and then all would return bloody and victorious to the castle.

The bard struggled to understand those who found the prospect of a royal hunt… thrilling. None worried to go home hungry, and the creatures they met in the wood came hobbled, with teeth filed and tusks blunted.

Rushing down a winding stair risked greater peril.

Bored by the day’s excitement, she let her thoughts spin out in wider and wider passes, circling the crux of the drama.

What did the King of Dreams dream of?

Revenge, she suspected. Vengeance on the king that may boil over on the land he ruled, and she must guide her favorites out of the flood’s path. Those practical answers satisfied the part of her that always craved a direction, a purpose, the next challenge to conquer, but the Dream King’s retribution sat like a wax seal over a longer letter. She would very much like to read that letter, even if it was dangerous, and unwise, and entirely reckless.

The Prince of Stories must have depths unfathomable, millennia upon eon of secrets and experiences carved into his bones. She wanted to dismiss her curiosity as nothing but interest in a vision of her future. Would she be like him in another thousand years? No. She’d still be human, and he was Endless. All the lifetimes of the Earth couldn’t teach her to understand one such as him.

But that didn’t mean she had no desire to try.

From farther up the line, a runner came jogging, peering up at the faces of the mounted company. He looked from one to another, seeking the right address to receive his message. The bard paused, recognizing the Everard house colors on servant’s tabard. Her horse stamped, whickering around the bit as her rider leaned out of the saddle to catch the young man’s eye. He saw her and darted to her side quick as an arrow.

“Is all well?” the bard asked.

“My lady Alis Everard and my lord Tomas Everard request you ride with them.”

The bard looked to Lady Alder. She hardly needed her friend’s permission, and none of the Alders were the sort to cherish grudges over perceived slights. But the bard didn’t want to leave her to ride alone, either. She needed good conversation and someone who cared enough to notice if she swayed on her horse.

“Oh, go tend to your nervous foal.” Lady Alder waved her off. “My own proud filly will see you pass and return to keep me amused. We favor different arts, but she has a sharp enough eye to see trouble riding by.”

“Thank you.” The bard pulled out of the column of riders, careful to avoid the servant at her side. “I’ll see you at the camp.”

Whatever Lady Alder replied was lost to the wind. Finally given her head, the bard’s mare leapt into a canter, her hooves thumping a second heartbeat that rattled up and through her rider. Old loam and the sharp green scent of freshly broken twigs gathered around her like a cloak as she moved just left of the path, removed from the rock and dust of the road.

The bard knew what colors to look for, and she let all definition blur as she moved past lords, ladies, knights, and their scores of attendants. They all looked so strange and out of place in the tunnel of green woods, dressed to stand out in a part of the world where blending in more often preserved life.

Near the front of the cavalcade, she found the Everards. Alis stared with wide eyes as the bard pulled even with her, mare prancing and snorting in frustration as her run came to an end. Her dramatic entrance pulled other eyes, and the king – only a few riders ahead – glanced back with frustrated disgust. Perhaps she should apologize that she wasn’t a stag. For all of the ruckus she’d heard from afar, she saw precious few carcasses dangling from the hunters’ belts.

“Thank you for coming in such haste,” Lord Everard said. Stifled amusement plucked at his lips, trying to lift them into a broad, laughing gale. It would be bad manners to laugh too loudly too near the king over a jest to which he wasn’t party, but Everard clearly struggled.

She answered with the grin he’d tried to school away. “Best way to travel. Now, what is the matter?”

Lord Everard gestured to his daughter, and she in turn tried to sink into the mud of the forest track. She hunched low, like she could melt into her boots. Her complexion had gone pale, despite the flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, and her gloves creaked as her dainty hands squeezed into fists. The bard let the merriment fade, looking and listening beyond the girl’s silence.

Alis’s doe eyes flicked towards the shadow who rode beside her king, and the bard understood.

Dream of the Endless wore his customary black, with the blood-red ruby shining on his breast like a heart he’d ripped from his prey. His nightmare mount had teeth where it ought to have eyes, and it laughed with a man’s voice. He carried a raven on his shoulder rather than a hawk on his glove, and anyone who hadn’t met his sister may mistake him for an aspect of Death. Or something worse, perhaps.

Lord of Nightmares indeed.

“He frightens me,” Alis whispered, leaning close. “I’ve had nothing but bad dreams since I came to the castle.”

As she should. A glance at her father confirmed he thought the same. Just because he’d been forced to bring his child to this storm didn’t mean he didn’t fear the lightning. He had too much sense for this farce and too big a heart to let the girl suffer. If his wife were not busy running the estate, she’d be here to shelter and comfort their little girl, but in her absence, he must ask the bard to fill the role, and she gladly pulled Alis’s attention from bad dreams to simpler truths.

“And you’ve never had a nightmare before?” She didn’t chide. She reminded. Even in the security of her own bed in her own home, the girl had touched the darker shores of the Dreaming. Its king would not reach out to swallow her now, even though he prowled so near in the Waking. “Alis, believe me, you are safe.”

Alis pulled her spine straight, taking a deep, intentional breath that shuddered on the way in and trembled on the way out.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise that if I’m wrong, I’ll find a convenient sword to fall on, and you can say you told me so. Does that make you feel better?”

“A little.” Realizing what she’d said, Alis blanched and rushed to add, “But only because I know you’d come back!”

This time her father did laugh, and the bard reached to reassure her with an honest to gods giggle, when chaos erupted at the front. The king and his companions came to a dead stop, and without warning or order, those who rode behind struggled to halt in time. Rearing horses and shouts of alarm rolled down the line like a breaker, and in the wave of confusion that followed, the bard once again left the road to circle forward.

They’d reached the camp.

A glory of golden stitching over swaths of emerald, the vast tents might cover an entire town, and smoke rising with the smells of rosemary and stewed venison hinted at the delights within.

The display paled behind the entity waiting at the edge of the woods, however.

Golden eyes like licks of flame from the sun’s heart smiled over ruby lips. Welcoming and menacing and all-too pleased with themselves.

Power perfumed the air, like honeysuckle and ambergris, clashing with the winter-cold snap of Dream’s clear displeasure. The King of Dreams had lost the veneer of humanity, and he set himself against the intruder like the deepest hour of the night resisting the dawn.

Few creatures could stand up to the king’s guest. Even fewer commanded the presence of function beyond personification. The bard did not know who the stranger was, but she knew what they were.

Another fucking Endless.

Every inch screamed of passion, romance, obsession. Golden hair and loose-fit silks that flowed like water into a garment that was neither tunic nor gown inspired sensual curiosities. They rode a unicorn, a bay mount with cloven hooves, a lion’s tail, and a goat’s beard. The russet horn glinted with flecks of gold, like treasure winking through a smear of blood.

The King of Dreams sneered, lip curling as he shared a frigid greeting.

“Sibling.”

The Endless in their path laughed, bright as bells and smooth brandy. It sounded to the bard’s ears like trouble. “I hope you don’t mind if I join in your hunt. Big brother.”

[waywardsummoner46]

Eternity, Part Two

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x (?)Reader

Summary: “You killed her,” you whispered deliriously.  His hand reached your face once more and in the blink of an eye your shivering body was held tightly against his warm, bare chest. Grains of sand swirled in the air around you; belatedly, you realised that you weren’t in the basement anymore. You didn’t have enough sense to even try and discern your surroundings.  

   A deep, soothing shush came from above you, the vibrations lining the side of your chest. “Rest now, my love. Our eternity shall begin once you wake.”  

  Soft lips pressed themselves against your forehead. For the first time in months, you didn’t dream of the man… you dreamt of a cage. And you were inside of it.

Word Count: 2774

Warnings: mind manipulation/control, possessive and obsessive behaviour, mental breakdown, suggestions of psychological torture, threat of bones collapsing, more to added with more chapters

A/N: I definitely got carried away with this one, I doubt you guys are complaining though. This does begin a tad on the shit side so sorry about that, it does get better though (I think). Thank you all for the overwhelming feedback on my other posts and I hope you enjoy this one just as much!

Smoke filled the house as naturally as any piece to a puzzle. Except, the absolutely vile stench of it burned your nostrils and forced you to squint as you made your way down the stairs, towards the heart of the fire.

  Blythe’s screams of pure agony echoed along the long hallways and you struggled to navigate through the blanketed air. You could also hear Alex and Paul shouting indistinguishable things, presumably at Blythe to cease her screaming, but you couldn’t be sure. 

  Thoughts swam through your head; somehow the abruptness of the fire and the chance of it happening on your first night seemed too deliberate to be a coincidence. As though something had caused it… or someone. The dreams you’d been having were too vivid, too real, for you to sweep them under any metaphorical rug. Instead of them being a place where you retreated to, they became something you ran away from, having done for a while before you consciously became aware of their disturbance of your everyday life.

  Before arriving at Fawny Rig but slightly after college, you and your friend Lia had bought an apartment together. Nothing special, after all what could two freshly graduated students possibly afford with even a shred of a decent standard of living? Regardless of your less-than-ideal circumstances, you’d both settled in quite nicely, always trying to make the most of what you had.

  Oddly, there never seemed to be a cloudy day for either of you (the Great British Weather clearly differed from your moods, what could you expect?). It was just you and Lia… until it wasn’t.

  Gradually at first, you began talking incoherently in your sleep - more common in people than most think. Then, some of your whispers become clear and with it only one word would be repeated: “Eternity”. Considering yourself to be a human with a broad vocabulary, you found it hilarious and perplexing that the only word that you’d ever say was that. Repetition was odd, you’d discovered in your research, for sleep talking. Though it wasn’t unheard of.

  So neither of you dwelled on it for longer than necessary. 

  Once the sleepwalking started though? Not to mention your empty stares and murmurs of one thing, “Eternity”? Suddenly, your innocent nightly escapades turned into a medical concern. 

  Dark, purple bags began to form under your eyes. After the doctor’s had recommended sleeping pills to make your brain fall into too deep a sleep to actually talk or move at all, you refused to take them. For you personally, the extreme that required medical support hadn’t been reached; your brain was just obsessed with one word, no biggy. So as you refused to take your pills, you also refused to fall asleep because despite the situation not being too severe, your dreams were concerning enough to put you off genuine rest.

  A man, always clad in the same dark robes, always with the same palm outstretched, had begun to affect your personal life. You’d be out and about, doing some shopping, when in your peripheral vision you glimpsed the image of the pale man.

  Never did he threaten you. In your dreams, he cherished you. Offering you eternity. 

  His attention and affections in your subconscious made you crave it in the waking world. Lia didn’t understand your want for someone who didn’t exist outside of your conscience and whilst you two fell out over your obsessions, your dreams grew even more vivid. To the point where you could feel the warmth from his hand and the power that emanated from his very aura. 

  He was intense, to put it simply. 

  Like a sailor to a siren, he captivated you in ways you couldn’t explain. You were drowning in him. Funny that it was only now, as you fell over vases and expensive decorations that you were remembering all of this.

   Another scream pierced the manor. After rearranging whatever ornaments you could find from the floor, you slowly manoeuvred through the maze-like corridors. 

  The shouting grew in volume, a small sigh of relief left your lips once you realised Paul and Alex had control of whatever had caused the fire.

  Coughing, you were about to alert them to your presence when something… called for you. Not through sound but through feeling.  It was magnetic and you were powerless to resist its pull.

  Raising your head cautiously, you moved your head around to garner the exact direction of the force. Ominously, the door to the basement stood untouched by the infection of smoke permeating through Fawny Rig; it was a clear sign that that’s exactly where you needed to go.

  Hesitation clashed with morbid curiosity in your mind. Realistically, you knew that if you did decide to venture into the abyss that was the basement, the Burgesses were only a call away so what was the risk? Rationally though, smoke didn’t make exceptions for a door of all things, nor were shrieks of torment to that extent a liable conclusion of a fire. 

  Swooping pulled you from your thoughts. Glancing up, you beheld the blasted raven from yesterday that had stolen the medication for your hand! Which had decided to flare up now of all times. 

  Staring at the raven perched upon the door something fierce, you raised an accusatory finger at it with narrowed eyes. “If I go down there, I’d better find my meds, you sack of shit. I haven’t forgotten what you did and I definitely haven’t forgiven you.”

  Chuckling absurdly at how a bird is what motivates you to finally walk the path down to the basement, you close the door behind you, without looking back, and allow the raven onto your shoulder. It sat eerily still, like a grotesquely beautiful rendition of a taxidermied raven except it was still warm with a beating heart.

  The contrast of the raven’s steady heartbeat served reassuring as your bare feet hit cold, uneven concrete. 

  The silence was deafening as your palms trailed down the wall and fence lining the stairs. Every little breath you took echoed through the grey, gloomy basement in a way that seemed… wrong. 

  Startling you, the raven squawked and flew off your shoulder in the direction of the centre of the area you’d just entered. There was a desk with two chairs, a lot of brainless magazines and newspapers were scattered over it but that was inconsequential compared to what, or rather who, sat before you.

  A delicately crafted cage hung from the ceiling, the framework twisted so that glass was the predominant quality and, oh, if you weren’t frozen in shock you would’ve taken the time to appreciate the expert craftsmanship. Except… there, sat in the middle of the cage, completely naked… was the man from your dreams. 

   Vaguely registering the raven tapping its beak incessantly against the glass, you looked on with  a hand covering your open mouth. 

  Were Alex and Paul aware that there was a literal person in their basement? They must’ve been, despite your short stay, you’d noticed that security guards of some sort had entered it as you walked in. Had they seriously been keeping him here, knowingly? And if so… for how long?

  Considering how solemn and distant he seemed, you’d wager it had been a while. Also considering how, in your short moment of personal turmoil, his head of dark hair had raised and his piercing blue eyes were now staring directly at you. 

  Stumbling back at the realisation, you noticed how his expression was impassive to an extent where you couldn’t understand if his lack of surprise at seeing you there was typical… or expected. As in, he’d expected you to be there. 

  The longer you peered into his eyes, the more you knew this to be true. Although, how he knew was a different question. 

  Relentless sounds of impatience left the oddly behaving bird and, grateful for the excuse to tear your eyes away from his, you looked over at the bird. “What is the matter with you?” You questioned it incredulously, blushing shortly after your eyes met the man’s again. Not only had he seen you gaping like a fish, now he’d watched as you conversed with a bird. What kind of saviour you were, huh.

  Turning back to the raven, you mustered up enough courage to begin walking towards the glass, trying valiantly to avoid the stranger’s heated gaze. 

  You retreated slightly into your mind, partially to cope with the traumatising events that you’d experienced all within twenty four hours and partially because you were a coward.

  Somehow, you’d forgotten weeks, practically months, of obsessive behaviour over the man in your dreams and now out of the blue, he was sitting in a fucking cage in front of you. You just couldn’t wrap your head around how the very same man from your dreams was sitting right in front of you. 

  Without a doubt, something had fucked up neurologically for you; this was either and incredibly vivid dream (which would follow the pattern) or this was a hallucination, that warranted panic. 

  You vowed silently that once you left this hell hole you’d never come back and seek professional help, and actually abide by it this time. 

  The cool sensation of the uneven floor beneath your feet grew to an almost freezing chill. Every step you took seemed to echo in the chamber and reverberated strangely soothingly in your ears. 

   Even the raven’s obnoxious taptaptapping had slowed to a calming beat. Both sounds coexisted as naturally as life and death, which was funny, you realised with a confused laugh, because how could such things be so perfectly in-sync?

  Gradually, the nearer you got, the higher your line of sight got. It continued to rise as an odd blue light began to glow from the cage; completely fascinated by it, you raised your head and greeted blurry eyes. This caused you to rub your own, understanding that your vision had become blurry during your short walk. 

  A distant yawn met your ears, and with a hazy sense you recognised it to be your own. The man tilted his head, a movement so miniscule you would’ve missed it had you not been paying incredible attention to him… to his eyes… his gorgeous, captivating… mesmerising, blue eyes…

  Pressure added to your shoulder almost broke your attention but suddenly, inexplicably, the shadow man grew more intense, the dark voids of his pupils staring into your very soul. 

  Something tugged in the back of your mind, you couldn’t pinpoint what it was yet considering how it seemed to resist the utter serenity that had washed over you like waves on a beach, you ultimately chose to ignore it. Bury it, deep deep down. 

  A small quirk of his lips told you that he was pleased; you’d pleased him! How happy that made you! So happy that it made you fall to your knees. So happy that your hand crept towards the strange gold marks that surrounded his cage. 

  At the reminder of the cage, you frowned. That was no place for a man, a being, such as himself to reside in… for eternity. Oh, eternity! Why did that seem so familiar?

  The raven on your shoulder nuzzled its head into your cheek, your frown slightly lessening at its cuteness. When the nuzzling turned more than innocent, you indicated rather lethargically for it to explain what it wanted to do. Majestically, it glided off of your shoulder and to the floor just before you and it encouraged you to rest your palm on its offered wing. 

  Reaching out a hand, you noticed with startling clarity that it was trembling. Then all at once, you stumbled back far away from the cage and looked fearfully up at the man. Having recently sat up, he looked down his nose at you with a look of definite displeasure and something akin to rage donning his features. 

  The voice you’d buried had fought its way to the surface and won in a moment of all encompassing lucidity that everything was wrong, and that he was the root of it all. 

  “What… are you?” 

  The blue glow returned and grew with intensity. You almost, so very nearly, got absorbed in its magnificence but with blood stemming from your clenched hands you resisted its ethereal pull. 

  Helpless tears flowed down your face - you were desperate, no other word for it. 

  Just as you were about to plead with him again, a different voice cut across the beginnings of a breeze. “Step away from the cage, (Y/N). No one has to get hurt.”

  It was Blythe. Relief crashed down upon you and you breathed her name in relief. Slowly though, her words registered and you looked at her, perplexed.

  “Why would anyone get hurt?” You questioned, and then your gaze travelled downwards. “Blythe, why do you have a gun? Where did you even get that? Put it down!” 

  Your words seemed to enter one ear and go out the other. Blythe was looking everywhere apart from you and as she approached you she raised the gun at the cage. “Blythe, please put the gun down. That’s not the way to do this,” you pleaded with her but again, she ignored you. 

  She stared directly at him. Unflinching, unfeeling, wholly numb in the face of something you suspected was more than human. Knowing you’d regret it, you walked up to her, back to the cage, and went to beg her more sincerely but you reared back as you observed her. Every inch of her pupils, her irises and even the whites of her eyes had been entirely consumed by a galactical exterior. Stars dotted and swam inside of her sight and it was difficult to tell if she could genuinely see like that.

  “Your eyes…” 

  “They’re beautiful,” her head clicked grotesquely as she turned mechanically towards you. “A pity yours aren’t the same. Would you like them to be?” She asked darkly. As mechanically as before, her line of sight returned to the man in the cage. An insane smile crossed her lips. “He wants them to be.”

  She shot the glass; the blue luminescence shone through the jagged cracks like some sort of morbid stencil. She shot once more; larger portions of the light shone  through and a creeping sense of drowsiness fluttered about yourself. On her third and final shot, you tackled her to the ground… except you weren’t quick enough.

  As mighty as a tsunami, the glass shattered across the room and the light crowded the basement in abundance, every single nook and cranny was utterly dominated by its sheer radiance.

  Including you.

  Fluidly, he manoeuvred himself out of the cage as easily as water. His intimidating beauty became almost unbearable without the glass as a barrier between you. Through heavy eyelids, you watched languidly as he moved towards you and as he lowered his hand to caress your face, you were powerless to resist.

  Had you been working at full capacity, you would have registered his longing whisper and the tremor in his hand. Alas, your poor soul refused to obey your brain.

  “Come here.” Sweet nothings and deadly promises seemed to be personified in his voice; pure heaven was the only way to describe it. Once you’d had a few seconds to scramble some coherent thought, your brows furrowed in confusion. What did he mean? You were right there!

  Footsteps echoed in the distance, realistically, however, they were less than a metre away from your collapsed form. 

  “Do you understand your duty?” Hairs raised on the back of your neck at his deadly tone. He must’ve been addressing Blythe, no one else had entered the room as far as you were aware.

  The hand left your face and you cried out at the loss. “Then, you are aware that you are relieved of it.”

  A sickening crack, the thud of something heavy, and the sickening scent of blood.

  “You killed her,” you whispered deliriously.

  His hand reached your face once more and in the blink of an eye your shivering body was held tightly against his warm, bare chest. Grains of sand swirled in the air around you; belatedly, you realised that you weren’t in the basement anymore. You didn’t have enough sense to even try and discern your surroundings.

  A deep, soothing shush came from above you, the vibrations lining the side of your chest. “Rest now, my love. Our eternity shall begin once you wake.”

  Soft lips pressed themselves against your forehead. For the first time in months, you didn’t dream of the man… you dreamt of a cage. And you were inside of it.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added)~

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@moonmaiden1996​

@intothesoul​

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[xmalereader]

— HeartMoor —

Lord Morpheus X Dark Fey! Male Reader

SUMMARY: Reader is a Dark Fey who has been captured and trapped by Rodrick Burgess before Dreams arrival. The two are locked away and only have each other until readers torture changes Dreams perspective and feelings towards the Dark Fey.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Angst, Dream of the endless, torture, Dark Theme, mentions of death, death threats, language, Rodrick burgess can suck ass, Dark Fey lore, semi AU, Possessive dream, slight kissing , mentions of ravens, glimpse of death, slight fluff, courting, mentions of hell.

『Chapter One 』

『 Chapter Two 』

『 Chapter Three 』

『 Chapter Four 』

『 Chapter Five 』

TAGS: @fanficsforheartandsoul @byler4lifeblog @boulevardofgalaxies @gaysimp614 @vainillacookie @mfairycow @namjooncrabs @boofy1998 @1s3v3n1 @mypsychoticlove @mxacegrey @horrfilm @lewi-black @multifandomsimp69 @cherrytricks

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