Summary ~ There’s nothing worse for a deity than to be abandoned by their maker. You’re saved by the one who’s watched you for centuries, Morpheus, the King of Dreams.....But your rescue comes with a price.
Warnings: Smut, Dark Dream/Morpheus x Goddess Reader, Psychological Manipulation, Possessiveness, Obsession, NonCon/DubCon, Power Imbalance, Gaslighting, Captivity, Gothic Horror, Gothic Romance
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
You no longer sleep. Not truly.
Your body rests. Your eyes close.
But something behind your thoughts stirs, dream-wrought, patient, possessive. It leaves marks you don’t remember receiving. It whispers along your spine when you move. It hums through the pouch of sand at your hip, a lullaby and a curse braided into one.
You forget things now.
Words slip sideways.
You blink and time bends.
Your name feels foreign in your mouth.
And the mirror?
It no longer shows your face.
Just his.
You brush your hair one night but maybe it’s morning. You no longer know how to tell.
The door creaks open. You don’t remember unlocking it.
But someone enters anyway
She walks in like a misplaced daydream.
A girl. Or the memory of one. One eye shimmered emerald green with silver flecks, the other a vein-blue, soft and bruised like something too close to breaking. Her hair is tangled with goldfish and shadows. Her dress flickers between velvet and mist, thunderclouds stitched with butterflies and bones.
“Hi,” she chirps, chewing the silence like gum. “You’re cracking.”
You freeze, your hand wrapped around your brush tightened “Who are you?”
She twirls, clapping her palms softly. “Once I was Delight. But that was when I still believed I could stay that way.”
You blink. Her voice is both fragile and bottomless.
“And now?”
She stops spinning. Tilts her head.
“Now I’m Delirium.” Her smile falters. “People always think that means I’m mad. But really … it just means I remember too much.”
There’s something ancient beneath her voice. Something older than sense. You say nothing.
She crouches in front of you, her mismatched eyes sharp and shimmering.
“You reek of him,” she murmurs. “Like the softest part of the dark. Like binding promises whispered into dreams. You smell like Dream… and like you’ve been loved too hard by him. Or maybe devoured.”
Your hand tightens around the pouch at your hip. “He’s not here.”
“No,” she says gently. “But he left a lot behind.”
A pause.
Then she sighs, voice growing softer...softer than you thought Delirium could ever sound.
“You don’t belong to him. Not yet. But you will, if you don’t choose something else. And soon.”
You swallow. “There is nothing else to choose. There’s no one else left.”
“There is always someone else. Always another path,” she whispers, eyes flaring briefly with something like grief. “Even for me.”
You stare.
Delirium smiles again, faintly. More fragile than before.
“They don’t know why I changed, you know. Not even Destiny. There are paths even he can’t map. But I walked one anyway.”
She rises, twirling a thread of stars around her finger.
“You could walk one too.”
You’re trembling. Not with fear but with some unnamed hunger. Some desperate hope that smells like ruin.
“Where does it go?”
“To the Kindly Ones,” she says. “They hate most deities. But not you. Not yet.”
You shake your head. “Why would they help me?”
“They won’t,” Delirium says cheerfully. “But they might offer you a chance, to torment my brother”
“A chance ... but at what cost?”
She leans in, presses her cold lips to your forehead like a farewell kiss.
“A chance to stay yourself,” she breathes. “Before he claims the last piece.”
The lights flicker. The room tilts sideways.
You reach out to stop her, to beg her, to thank her -
But Delirium is gone. Only the brush remains in your hand, tangled in hair you don’t remember brushing.
You follow the scent of iron and lilies. Delirium never said how to find them. Only that you would know when the way began.
So you walk.
Through streets that fold in on themselves. Through dreams that might be yours, or might be his. Through a field of candles that melt in reverse.
The pouch of sand grows heavier at your hip, as if dreading where you’re going.
It knows.
𓆩༺𓆪
The Kindly Ones wait in a place outside of time, past reason, beneath mercy. You pass a broken well where birds whisper in reverse, a forest that screams when you look too long.
And then -
A cave. Blacker than shadow, quieter than death.
You step inside. The temperature drops. The ground feels wet. Something crunches beneath your feet.
You don’t look down.
At the center of the cavern, three women sit at a loom. One weaves. One cuts. One knots a strand of red, over and over, binding it tight.
They do not speak.
You clear your throat. “I’ve come for help.”
No answer.
“I was sent.”
Still, the Furies do not turn.
So you take the final step, kneel before them, and say the name:
“Delirium.”
The one who knots pauses. The weaver’s hands stutter.
Then, slowly, the eldest one speaks, her voice a rasp like dead leaves.
“You would ask us for mercy, little goddess?”
“I’m not asking for mercy,” you say. “I’m asking for a chance.”
The middle one, sharp-eyed, ageless, smiles like a knife.
“Then you are more foolish than you look.”
You stay silent.
“You seek to preserve yourself,” the youngest says. Her voice is curious, almost kind. “But we smell madness on you. We see the shape of him in your bones. You’re already marked.”
“I want to choose something else,” you whisper.
“Then choose,” the oldest says.
Your breath hitches. “What’s the price?”
Their voices braid together in a terrible chorus:
“If you fail, you die. No rebirth. No worship. No name.”
You flinch.
“Or,” the middle one says, voice softer now, “you may walk away. Return to the Dreaming. Let him keep what he has already taken.”
Your hand moves to the sand pouch, fingers curling tightly around it.
“Trial,” you say. “I’ll face it.”
And the world splits open.
𓆩༺𓆪
The first thing you see is him.
Not Morpheus. A mortal man.
He is laughing in the sunlight. He is singing your name like it’s a hymn, like a prayer whispered over folded hands. He is brushing your hair back, reverent, pressing a kiss to your temple like it might keep you whole.
You know this memory.
You’ve buried it. Or tried to.
He was the first. And last. The only one you ever truly tried to love. Not worship. Not consume. Not toy with for a couple fleeting moments before leaving them breathless and broken.
You wanted to be different. For him.
You changed for him. Or tried. Tried to live quietly. Tried to pretend the divine violence of your nature was something that could be set aside like a crown.
You walked among mortals like one of them, barefoot in the grass, letting time pass in slow sun-dappled hours. You didn’t tempt. You didn’t ruin. You didn’t pull hearts apart like petals, didn’t lace your voice with longing or shadow.
You made yourself smaller than you are. You were a wolf pretending to be the lamb. And for a time … he loved you for it. He called you good. Called you kind and you almost believed him.
You remember the first time he bled.
The first time your nature slipped, just a little. The way jealousy burned in your chest like a swallowed star. How your power curled up from your spine, purring. How you looked at the girl he smiled at and whispered her bones into dust.
He never knew, until he did. Until you let him too close, too far past the mask.
You see it now, all of it, from above: your divine form unraveling in his presence, bit by bit. The way your laughter began to echo, how your eyes shone like galaxies made of want and rot. The way your skin shimmered like the edge of desire.
But still, you hoped. Still, you tried to show him gently, your godhood, your hunger, the terrible beauty that made you you.
He loved your humanity. You wanted him to love the rest. But fate was cruel. As it always is. And so is love.
You see the moment, that moment. When he pulled away from you. When his eyes stopped seeing a woman and started seeing a weapon.
His voice, cracking:
“The one I loved… she was just a mask, wasn’t she?”
You tried to explain. That the mask was you, too. That you made it for him.
But he didn’t want the goddess.
He wanted the lie. But you… you couldn’t bear to be left behind. Not by him, a mere mortal.
So pride took hold of you. As it always does. You could’ve let him go. You could’ve unspooled the threads of his memory, gifted him peace, oblivion.
But you didn’t, you couldn't, it wasn't in your nature..
Instead, you tried to make him see. Make him stay. You wrapped yourself in stars and truth and longing and showed him the full scope of what you were.
He ran but you caught him. A mere mortal stood no chance against your divine power.
You kissed him as he wept. Held him as he died in your arms. Watched the light drain from his eyes and instead of feeling just sorrow and sadness, a guilty buried part of you felt a cruel relief spark in your chest.
Because now, you wouldn’t have to wonder. Wouldn’t have to be rejected again. Because now, he couldn’t leave you. Because he was yours. Because now he will always been yours. If not in life then in death.
Even if he never truly wanted to be. You fall to your knees, breath caught on some ancient scream still lodged in your ribs.
“I didn’t mean to kill him,” you whisper. The words taste old. Hollow. “I loved him.”
The Kindly Ones watch.
They see through it. They see the truth in your bones. Even now, you still refuse to take full accountability for your fault in his demise. The refusal to regret what you are. The pride that coiled around your heart like armor, even as he begged you to let him go.
You loved him like a goddess does, absolutely, violently, without mercy. That was always the problem. The memory flickers. Your lover’s corpse turns to face you. His lips twitch into a smile. His eyes shine with ruin.
His mouth moves.
“You destroy what you love.”
You scream. And you fail. The cave cracks. The loom unravels. The threads of fate fray beneath you, choking on your choices.
The ground beneath your knees splits like a mouth opening to swallow you whole.
You feel your name begin to burn away from the inside out, consumed by the truth you could never shed: You weren’t doomed by love. You were doomed by pride.
Then...he arrives.
A storm of fury. A silence that drowns all things. A crown of night behind cold eyes.
Dream.
Morpheus appears between you and the Furies, and they reel back.
“Enough,” he says.
His voice is not cruel. But it is final.
“You cannot save her,” the eldest Fury hisses. “She chose the trial.”
“I did not come to save her,” Dream says softly. “I came to claim what is mine.”
Your body goes still.
“No,” you whisper. “No, I’m still-”
“You are breaking,” he murmurs. “You have broken. And there is nowhere left for you but me.”
He lifts you into his arms.The pouch of sand bursts open, dissolving into him. Your mouth parts in a cry, but no words come.
He kisses your brow and the world disappears.
𓆩༺𓆪
You wake in moonlight.
But this is no moon you know. It hangs over a sea of glass, casting bloody shadows that bloom like rotten roses. The air tastes like longing. The stars blink like watchers.
You’re in the Dreaming.
Your body aches in strange ways—weightless and heavy all at once. You try to rise, but silk binds your wrists. Not harshly. Lovingly.
A voice, soft as breath, answers the question you have not yet asked.
“You were dying.”
You turn your head.
Dream stands at the edge of the bed. His hair spills over his shoulders like shadow given form. His robe has fallen open—bare chest pale, sculpted, still as a statue. But his eyes…
His eyes are wounds.
“You failed,” he says.
The words should wound.
They don’t.
“I saw,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “You tried to abandon your nature. You bled for it. You killed for it. You were magnificent.”
You look away. “I was cruel.”
He kneels beside you, hands resting on the silk that binds you.
“You were honest,” he whispers. “You are not love. You are what love becomes when it festers. You were never meant to be gentle.”
His mouth finds your neck. You shiver.
“I did not save you out of pity,” he says. “I saved you because I could not allow death to take what belongs to me.”
You tremble in his hands. “Then what am I now?”
His fingers slide into your hair. “Mine.”
The kiss is slow. Deep. Possessive. There is no rush. He takes his time, dragging his tongue along your lower lip like it’s a vow.
And you let him. You want him to. Because you are broken, yes. But you are no longer alone.
His robe slips from his body as he climbs above you. The Dreaming sighs around him, stars shifting, the sky curling inward. His weight presses into yours. His thigh between yours.
Your wrists remain bound. You don’t try to free them.
He strokes your face like he’s sculpting a masterpiece.
"You are not healed," he says. "But you are mine."
He sinks into you with a slow, deliberate thrust.
You gasp.
It's like sinking through velvet, like falling through stars. Like being rewritten cell by cell.
His rhythm is slow, cruel, designed to unmake you.
“You are forgetting your name,” he murmurs.
You cry out as his hips roll deeper.
“Good.”
You arch beneath him, eyes glassy. The world flickers. You see the threads of dreams and nightmares unraveling and reweaving around your body.
A throne in the distance. A crown hovering over your head.
He cups your jaw, makes you look at him.
“Say it,” he commands.
Your lips tremble. “Yours.”
He groans. “Again.”
“Yours.”
His hands grip your hips, driving himself harder into your soul. Each movement forces more of you open, to the Dreaming, to him, to what you’re becoming.
You are no longer the goddess Desire made. You are something else.
You are loved. Possessed. Claimed.
He comes with a sound like thunder swallowed in silk, spilling deep inside you.
You follow, back arching, bound wrists curling tight as starlight erupts behind your eyes.
And then.....silence.
The Dreaming holds its breath.
𓆩༺𓆪
You stand in the throne room now, cloaked in black lace and twilight. A crown of onyx and moonstone hovers above your brow like it’s afraid to touch you. The Dreaming hums beneath your bare feet.
Morpheus stands beside you.
You do not remember all the exact details of how you got here. But you remember the trial. The failure. The truth of your nature. Your smile tilts sideways now, like a secret half-spoken. You speak in riddles that loop like dreams-within-dreams. Your eyes shimmer with delirium, and your laugh makes even the stars pause.
Delirium perches on the jagged edge of a broken mirror. Her legs swing. Her eyes are mismatched, one soft as delight, the other sharp as madness.
“She suits you,” she says cheerfully, like it’s obvious. “Even if she can’t walk in straight lines anymore.”
Morpheus turns to her. His jaw clenches. His voice, when it comes, is quiet, but dark enough to crack bone.
"You led her to them.”
Delirium’s grin doesn’t falter, but her eyes shimmer with amusement. “You were watching. You let her fall.”
“She was nearly unmade.”
“She needed to be,” Delirium says. “You don’t build muses out of mercy.”
Morpheus steps forward, the air thickening around him like stormclouds. “She could have died.”
Delirium blinks, then tilts her head.
“But she didn’t,” she says, sing-song soft. “She came back through you. And she’s yours now, isn’t she? So what does it matter?”
Morpheus does not answer. He stares at her for a long moment, eyes like the end of time.
He says nothing. But he reaches for your hand, slow and sure and you let him lace his fingers through yours.
“Will you keep me here forever?” you ask, your voice bright yet hollow like a bell rung underwater.
“No,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I will set you loose inside every poet’s mind. Every painter’s fever dream. Every tragic love that knows it’s doomed.”
You blink, lashes casting shadows like daggers on your cheek. “Why?”
His lips curl, dark and reverent.
“Because you are no longer just a goddess. You are my muse.”
And somewhere, far away, in the waking world....
A poet stirs from sleep, weeping.
A lover dreams of the one who ruined him.
A mortal walks into the ocean for a voice he cannot name.
The Dreaming sings your name in secret, stitched between stars.
Warning(s): Dark Morpheus, minor violence, stalking, obsessive behaviour, pretty dark (I hope)
A/N: As requested! I hope this was up to your expectations! The longest piece I’ve written for Morpheus too! Enjoy reading! Comments and reblogging are welcomed! (THIS IS A ONE SHOT ONLY)
Taglist: @bhflowers324
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The dark skies clouding his realm, adding to the grim expression Morpheus wore. There he sat on his throne, majestic but with a deep frown and eyes dark as he stared at his forearm. Amidst the pale skin was black ink. It had two black oval eyes and a bony trunk, eerily looking similar to his helm. The longer Morpheus stared at his mark, it made him realise how much emotions he felt just with one simple look. Aeons he has walked among the living and yet none of them was his significant half. His eyes darken further, flashes of past memories involving his journey in finding his soulmate.
Many forget he is the King of Nightmares too.
Oh, the things he did, scouring the Waking world in search of his soulmate.
“Will you be back?” In all honesty, each time Morpheus spoke those words, it worried the chief librarian very much. She was afraid the Burgess events would happen again. However, she was sure that Morpheus would not allow that to ever happen to him again.
Morpheus, too deep in thought to realise that Lucienne had attempted to catch his attention. She cleared her throat and finally, his eyes flickered in her direction and just as he did, he felt a hard squeeze to his heart. A low grunt escaped his lips, hand gripping the armrest of his throne. Only when the pain subsided did he release his iron grip.
“My Lord? Are you alright?” Lucienne enquired, concern on her face. Morpheus only grunted in response, standing from his throne.
“I will be away. I leave the realm in your care,” He instructed, descending from the stairs.
“I will be,” He murmured, leaving his realm.
Lucienne let out a soft sigh, watching as her King left. She knew his predicament all too well. It got worse after news travelled to The Dreaming that Destiny too had found his soulmate, a woman who shared a similar personality with him.
This sent Morpheus into a fit of silent rage. All of his siblings had finally met their significant other and he has not? Did he not travel to the Waking world enough? Were his sinful acts over the long aeons insufficient? Those unfortunate humans who had the displeasure of experiencing his rage were either dead, overwhelmed greatly from their nightmares or died from their madness. A dark part of Morpheus found joy in their suffering. After all, it was a way to ease his anger. Lucienne absolutely despised when he spiralled so low, doing everything in her power to calm her King down. So far, she had been successful and she could only hope that her King’s path finally crossed with his soulmate.
The sun was cool against Morpheus’s skin as he sat back on the park bench. A soft mewl averted his attention to his foot, a little, black and white feline brushed her little head against his ankle. Morpheus leaned over, picking up the mewling kitten as it shook slightly in his hand.
“Hungry?” He asked quietly, conjuring a can of wet food for the feline. She mewled loudly, pawing on the King’s lap as he opened the can. She stood on her hind legs, paws supporting herself on his arm as she mewled again and again. A tiny smile curled on the corner of Morpheus’s lips, guiding the kitten to the empty space beside him and set the can down. She didn’t hesitate to stuff her little mouth with as much wet food as she could.
Morpheus turned back to the view before him. Children giggling, chasing one another around the playground. Mothers chatting with other mothers, updating one another about their daily gossip. Joggers passing by, going about their day. Dogs barking, tail wagging excitedly as they initiated ‘play time’ with their owners. The Waking world may seem perfect but to Morpheus, it had flaws. Way too many flaws. A perfect example was his soulmate.
Then, his mind drifted. Morpheus could only imagine what his soulmate would be like. A female? A male? He didn’t mind either. What was their personality like? What colour was their hair? How tall were they? What was their name? Morpheus imagined himself, arms tight around his soulmate as he nuzzled into their hair, taking in deep breaths of the scent of their lovely shampoo. He imagined his hands caressing his soulmate, studying every inch of their skin, marking them as his. The possibilities itself were endless and yet, where was his soulmate? As much as he wanted to seek the help of his siblings, but he was not like that. They have their own matters to attend to.
Morpheus allowed his mind to continue drifting as long as they could, until he felt a sharp pain in his heart again. The pain was getting more and more frequent over the aeons but never this closely timed as today. His hand grabbed the front of his shirt, jaw tight and teeth grinding as he hunched over in pain. The pain was a stabbing pain, a tearing pain, a pain only he could bear. His other hand gripped the wood panel of the bench, cracking it under his grip. A harsher stab struck his heart and Morpheus hunched further. The loud cracking scared the little feline away.
For once, Morpheus thought he was going to die.
That was until he felt a hand on his shoulder and suddenly, the pain disappeared, as if it was not tormenting him just mere seconds ago.
“Hey, are you alright?” A soft voice asked, a little shaky, Morpheus admitted. The grip on his shirt and the bench eased up as he slowly lifted his head. As he did, he allowed his eyes to trail up to their arm and that’s when he saw it.
Two blank ovals and a bony trunk, peeking under the three-quarter sleeve just enough for him to see. Morpheus’s head snapped up quickly, eyes meeting with a pair of brown so dark, he was lost in it. They held everything beautiful, like a universe swirling among the pool of chocolate. Morpheus was deep in it very quickly but the hand shook him again and his trance faded.
[Name] pursed her lips, worry clouded her gorgeous face.
“Are you okay?” She repeated, his voice sweet in his ears. His throat bobbed, inhaling deeply.
“I am alright,” Morpheus replied lowly. As her hand moved from his shoulder, he frowned. He found himself craving more. The feeling of want overpowered the pain he felt for aeons.
He felt an insatiable hunger and excessive thirst for his soulmate. He wanted more..
More
More
MORE
“Hey, babe!” Another voice called out. A man, jogged over to where his soulmate was.
“You alright?” He looked between [Name] and Morpheus, confusion clear on his face.
“Um, yeah! Yeah, everything is alright,” She smiled sweetly. The man leaned in, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Come on, let’s go,” He took her hand and led her away from him.
By now, Morpheus could only watch silently as his soulmate ran from him. A small spark. A small spark was enough to create a raging flame and that was exactly how Morpheus felt. He stood up, watching [Name] until he was out of her view. He needed to go back to his palace, find out every information he could about his soulmate. She was not going to get away from him that easily. He didn’t care if she was involved in a relationship with another man who was not her true love. He would get rid of him if he had to get himself in the picture.
Nothing gets away from Morpheus..especially not his soulmate.
Lucienne’s worry grew even more for her King as he had locked himself in his personal study within the library’s premises. He had requested books after books about his soulmate, digging deeply into whatever he could find. He didn’t rest. Not even once, ever since he came back from that particular day. She was glad that her King had finally found his soulmate but he had devoted himself to her. Even though he was still attending to his duties, he rarely spoke outside during whatever little free time he had. Day and night he spent in his personal study. Lucienne could only watch. After all, she was in no position to stop her King from every irrational act he has done or will do.
His time in isolation had been fruitful. He learnt many things about his soulmate such as her name, her address and her whole life. It brought a smile to Morpheus’s lips, his heart feeling lighter than ever. His thin fingers brushed over the neatly written address. Tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, he was going to pay his soulmate a little visit in her dreams.
[Name]’s fingers brushed against the tips of the high grass, wind blowing gracefully against them. Before her, stood a tall apple tree where she bore such red apples, it rivalled rubies. A sad sigh left her lips as she stopped before its trunk. Her fingers now brushed against the trunk, the mark she wore on her forearm. She raised a forefinger, tracing the odd mark. What did it represent? Where was her real soulmate? The pain she felt in her heart was growing by the years and she wanted the pain to finally go away. Kevin was a good boyfriend and his soulmate would be so lucky to have him, she noted. Then, [Name]’s mind drifted to the man she saw at the park. Even in her dreams, she thought about him. Before she approached the man, she felt an ache in her chest and just before the pain could strike her, it disappeared as she approached the man in pain.
That should have been the first sign
That should have been the first sign [Name] should have realised but she was too deep in her own sorrow to realise the possibility that her soulmate is out there.
Then, [Name]’s eyes focused on a black, shadowy figure in the distance behind the apple tree. The figure stood out like a sore thumb as the sun shone brightly behind him.
“Hello?!” She called out loudly but received no reply. It looked vaguely like the man in the park but she simply brushed the thought off.
Soon, all of her dreams melted away. Time to snap back to reality
Nowadays, [Name] kept on having these weird dreams where this black, shadowy figure was always following her. Every turn, there it was. Every dream, no matter how different it was, there it was. Her heart would race as she tried to outrun or hide from the figure but her actions were useless. What was haunting her? Were they nightmares? Everynight, she had to have Kevin with her, consoling her and reminding her that they were only dreams.
Yet, why did they seem so real?
Her nightmares seemed to affect her in the waking world too. Once, she had just gotten off work at the office. The route back home was fairly simple because she lived a few blocks away from the office. Usually, it was very safe. However, it didn’t seem to anymore especially after the first dream about the black shadowy figure. [Name] rushed back home, constantly looking over her shoulders with her handbag clutched so tightly and closely to her chest. She finally got home safe, telling Kevin all about her experience.
The next few days felt the same, until the next day where a thief had snatched her bag off her shoulders.
“Hey!” She called out, chasing after the thief down the streets. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as she followed the thief through turns and finally, a dark alley. Coincidentally, the light was busted so she couldn’t see the thief at all.
[Name] swallowed, peering closely into the darkness.
The thief screamed, slammed down on the floor. The bag slid to her foot as she looked at the thief and for the first time in her life, she saw real, genuine fear. The thief screamed as he was pulled back by..by something. [Name] jumped in shock, shakily picking her bag up as, through the darkness, she saw a pair of eyes..? The pair of eyes mixed so well with the darkness but there were two prominent reflective dots that stared directly at her.
She swallowed, taking a step back with the bag pressed close to her chest.
“T-Thank you,” Her voice quivered and Morpheus felt shivers from it.
Even her fear was beautiful.
“Go,” He instructed deeply and watched as his love scurried away. Morpheus gripped the thief’s hair, forcing the human to look at him. The blood trickling down his face was a sight indeed.
“You messed with what’s mine. Your punishment can only be death,”
Only the thief’s screams were the last thing heard by those unwilling.
If [Name] thought her life couldn’t get any worse, boy, was she in for a ride. Night with Kevin has..lessen. He complained of having nightmares worse than those horror movies and they differ. Some involved in total darkness, others involved in his own death; all brutal and gruesome that even he couldn’t even explain further. [Name] would sob as she watched Kevin spiralled further and further, unable to sleep and constantly drinking himself to death. Her heart was cracked and it broke when Kevin had left her. Packed his clothes and whatever belongings he had and left without even saying a word to her.
She had tried to contact him several times but he had blocked her everywhere. So, she cried and cried and Morpheus only watched with a smirk and a gleam in his eyes, Lucienne knew enough that her King was in such a bright mood due to soulmate. The Dreaming mirrored the effect of his happiness. Though it was a good thing, it came with a cost. Lucienne could only sit back and watch as the story unfolded itself.
[Name], with tired and puffy eyes and aching muscles, dragged herself to bed. She sniffled, tugging the duvet open to crawl under it. She couldn’t let her tears out anymore. No point crying over something that was done, right?
Her eyes fluttered close..
The floorboard creaked and they flew open. Morpheus stood before her, a sick smile on his lips as he pressed a hand over her mouth.
“Don’t scream,” He instructed, slowly lifting his hand. She wanted to but nothing came out. The only way she could convey her emotions was through those eyes Morpheus loved so, so much.
“It represents me. I knew you were mine when we met at the park. When you helped me ease the irritating pain in my heart,” He continued, trailing his lips up her arm. [Name] whimpered, shuddering under her breath as tears pooled in the corner of her eyes.
His cold fingers traced her forearm, over the soulmate mark she wore.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? This mark?” Morpheus began, sitting down gently on the edge of the bed. He brought [Name]’s arm up to his lips, caressing the mark with his lips.
“Remember the dreams of the black shadowy figure? Oh, how he enjoyed watching you from afar, admiring his soulmate from far. Even in the Waking world, he was watching. Every move you made, he watched and watched. Simply waiting for the perfect time to strike,” Morpheus’s words were like poison to listen to yet they carried so much honey.
It was very calming.
Morpheus pulled away, rolling the sleeve of his coat up to show his own mark.
“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, my queen? I am your soulmate. I am Dream Of The Endless, your soulmate. Do you know the effort I had to put in to get rid of that man who bed with you?” Morpheus now wore a dark expression on his face, refusing to speak his name because it disgusted him greatly. [Name] whimpered louder, tears falling this time as she realised that this was his work.
This..This monster’s work.
“I will kill everything and everyone you ever loved,” Morpheus whispered to her ear. Sand engulfed the two, transporting them to his palace.
Morpheus caught a tear, bringing it up to his tongue for a taste.
“Perfect..You are perfect for me. You are perfect for me. I will love you so much. I will give you everything you could ever dream of. In time, you will learn to love and accept me, my love, because if you don’t…,” He stood, arms moving under [Name]’s knees and shoulder. He picked her up with ease and all she did was bury her face in his face and sobbed.
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.''
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!
Summary ~ There’s nothing worse for a deity than to be abandoned by their maker. You’re saved by the one who’s watched you for centuries, Morpheus, the King of Dreams.....But your rescue comes with a price.
Warnings: Smut, Dark Dream/Morpheus x Goddess Reader, Psychological Manipulation, Possessiveness, Obsession, NonCon/DubCon, Power Imbalance, Gaslighting, Captivity, Gothic Horror, Gothic Romance
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5
You told yourself it was only once.
Only a taste.
And nothing more.
You had always known he was watching. Back when he couldn’t touch you, it thrilled you, his gaze was heavy, cold and reverent. You were a goddess of desire then, untouchable. Worshiped.
You try to return to routine. Lovers. Seduction. Power. You press your body to soft mouths and hopeful hands. You close your eyes and imagine heat, desire, pleasure.
But all you feel is absence.
Every mortal lover leaves you colder.
You flinch when they say your name.
Worse still, you see him. Reflected in their pupils. In the shadowed corner of your chambers.
You begin to wake up sore. Not from love, but from being held. Possessed. Claimed.
You strip before the mirror more often now, searching for evidence.
At first, you explain them away.
The bruising on your ribs ... just from sleep.
The pressure around your throat ... your own doing.
The bite on your thigh ... a lover that was a little too eager.
Until one morning ... you wake with a gasp. Not from fear. But from pleasure. From the heat between your legs. The slickness. The ache.
You part your thighs ... and feel it.
Thick, warm. Coating your skin. Dripping down your inner thigh.
You stare at it. At yourself.
It isn't yours. And it isn't any of the lovers you've lain with.
And you know.
You know whose it is.
You do not scream.
You do not speak.
You only sit in the dark, trembling.
And still, you feel his breath on your neck.
𓆩༺𓆪
Desire finds you sprawled on your chaise, regal in your ruin.
You wear your power like perfume, cloying, golden, designed to distract.
But it’s hollow.
Your limbs are too loose, your pupils still blown wide. The pouch of sand rests heavy against your hip. You pretend you’re still whole. Still yourself. That your mind isn’t fraying at the edges where dreams bleed in.
The chamber tilts with Desire’s arrival, sweet as sin, sharp as citrus and blood.
They pause in the doorway, golden eyes glittering as they take you in. Your swollen mouth. The bruises not made by mortal hands. The lingering heat that no bath can wash away.
They hum, thoughtful. Maybe even disappointed.
“So,” they say softly. “You opened his pouch.”
You lift your chin. You don’t rise. You don’t need to.
“I didn’t mean to—”
Desire’s smile is knife-thin. “Don’t lie. Not to me.”
They step closer, lazy and feline. Circling. Stalking. “You dream of him. You wake with his seed still wet on your thighs. You cling to that sand like it’s salvation.”
You flinch but only a little.
“I’m not yours anymore,” you say, quiet but steady. “I chose something else.”
“Oh, love.” They chuckle, low and full of old ache. “You chose him. And you think that’s better?”
“No, I chose myself. I’m stronger now.” You sit taller, fingers curling protectively around the pouch. “The world bends again. Mortals pray when I pass. My power no longer depends on an Endless.”
Desire studies you. For a moment, they say nothing.
Then, voice low , a flash of something close to pity flashed across their golden eyes and they murmur:
“You always were my favourite ... cunning, beautiful, dangerous, power hungry. You're many things, but not dumb don't insult your maker by pretending so.
You freeze.
They reach out, brushing their fingers against your bare shoulder. Not to claim, but to mourn. "You think this power is yours? That your divinity returned of its own accord?"
"No, darling. He is remaking you. Every time he spills himself inside your dreams. Every time you whisper his name in your sleep. You’re being rewritten"
You don’t answer. You can’t.
“You opened the door, little goddess. And now every being who craves power will smell it on you. You shine like a wound in the dark. You radiate longing. And I no longer shield you.”
You go still.
Desire leans in, whispering:
“They will come for you. Not to worship. To take.”
You want to laugh. But your throat is raw. Your skin still aches from his teeth.
“I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.” Their voice turns soft, dangerous. “You’ve invited the sea to devour you. But you’ve forgotten the ocean has no stomach. It just takes.”
You want to scream that they’re wrong.
That you’re free.
That you’re not unraveling.
But the truth curls beneath your skin like smoke:
You’ve started seeing him.
Reflections that smirk when you don’t. Sand stuck under your painted red nails. The word mine whispered in the rustle of drapes, carved behind your eyelids.
You wake with his handprints on your skin. With his seed dripping down your thighs. And you no longer know if it’s dream, memory, or him.
You whisper, "Let them come."
But your hands shake.
Because Desire is right ... you had simply traded one leash for another.
𓆩༺𓆪
You wake one evening to laughter.
A curl of smoke drifts through your sanctuary. The scent of ash and honey. Loki lounges by the window, legs crossed, fingers tapping softly on the sill. His presence is familiar, an ally in friendlier times, once a lover you planned chaos and trouble with.
He smiles, a slow, knowing curve.
“You’re still holding on, aren’t you?”
“How did you get in?” you ask, voice hoarse but steady.
He gestures at the pouch of sand resting near you.
“You lit a beacon that even the minor deities could see. Soon every deity will be on your doorstep.”
You glance down at the pouch, its faint shimmer pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark.
Loki stands and approaches, fingers tracing the air just above your skin, measuring the trembling heat beneath.
“You opened it. Survived it. That’s more than most could.”
You lift your chin defiantly.
“I’m not mortal. I will not unravel.”
“No one is immune.” Loki’s voice softens. “Not even gods.”
He steps closer, eyes scanning you like he’s peeling back your soul.
“Just yesterday, you found yourself chasing shadows in your own garden, didn’t you?”
You blink, startled. The memory flashes unbidden, waking naked among blooming thorn roses, petals blackened, the thorns cutting into your arms as if it had a mind of its own.
“You spoke aloud to the statues, pleading with stone to remember your name.”
You stiffen.
“You’ve been forgetting things. Small things, at first, where you laid your chalice, the names of your lovers.”
Your breath falters.
Loki’s gaze is steady.
“And the marks.”
He flicks his fingers toward your exposed thigh.
“The ones that vanish when you look directly, but burn when you don’t.”
You look down, feeling the ghost of a touch, a heat lingering beneath your skin.
“This pouch,” he continues, voice dropping. “It’s more than a source of power. It’s a beacon. A call to every god with an appetite.”
He shakes his head, almost rueful.
“And no matter your schemes, they’ll find you.”
You swallow hard.
“I can fight them.”
Loki’s smile is thin, haunted.
“ The King of Dreams has always wanted you. No one can stop an Endless from claiming their soulmate.”
His eyes bore into yours.
“This is my warning. Your grip on yourself loosens with every breath. Without help, madness is inevitable.”
You search his face, desperate.
“Then help me. Please.”
He steps back, shaking his head.
“I owe Dream King a favour for my freedom. This is as far as I can go.”
He moves toward the window, pausing.
“Take this warning as my help.”
Loki vanishes in a curl of smoke, and the candle between you sputters. One final gasp of light ... then nothing.
The shadows swell. The air thickens. And you know, with terrible certainty, that the Dreaming has found you, and it won’t let go.
Summary ~ There’s nothing worse for a deity than to be abandoned by their maker. You’re saved by the one who’s watched you for centuries, Morpheus, the King of Dreams.....But your rescue comes with a price.
Warnings: Smut, Dark Dream/Morpheus x Goddess Reader, Manipulation, Possessiveness, Obsession, NonCon, DubCon, Captivity
part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5
There was only one being in the universe who could summon you in a moment’s notice. One you were bound to obey.
Your maker, the cruelest of the Endless:
Desire.
Their palace greeted you like a living trap, a velvet snare of red silk and seduction, mirrors and gold, glass and lies. The scent of want hung in the air like perfume. Your heels clicked across marble, echoing in time with your heartbeat, your reflection fracturing endlessly along every mirrored wall.
Your beauty.
Your power.
Your pride.
And your leash.
You stood at the foot of Desire’s throne, red stilettos biting into the cold stone, a crimson gown clinging to your body like sin. You looked divine. You always did. But when Desire raised their hand, lazy, elegant, fingers curling like smoke and your confidence, worn like armor, faltered for a breath.
Desire smiled, slow and sweet. The kind of smile cats give birds just before they pounce.
“Morpheus has the Key to Hell,” they said, as if discussing the weather. “Lucifer handed it to him. Now my dear sibling plays kingmaker. And wouldn’t it be... poetic, if we were the ones he chose to rule?”
Your spine went stiff at the sound of his name. You lifted your chin, brushing a teasing smile onto your lips like gloss.
“He would never give it to you.”
Desire’s golden eyes glimmered with amusement.
“Of course not. But he might give it to you.”
You exhaled, slow and quiet. Your hand rose on instinct, combing through the white-gold strands of their hair. Your creator leaned into the touch with feline ease, that same lazy grin curling on their mouth, Cheshire-sweet and just as full of teeth. This wasn’t a request. It was an order. A game. A punishment. An impossible task.
And worst of all: a confrontation you had long avoided.
“Send someone else,” you said at last, voice quieter now, measured but slipping. “Perhaps that new deity you made? Shouldn’t she prove her worth?”
Desire gave a soft laugh, velvet and cruel.
“Oh, my darling. You know I could. But none perform quite as beautifully as you.” They turned a glinting gaze on you, head tilting. “You were made to enchant. And torment. You’re my finest work.”
You tried once more, lowering your voice. A rare thing, pleading.
“You know what he is to me.”
Desire's smile sharpened. And in the beat that followed, you realized with a slow, sinking dread that you’d said the wrong thing.
They leaned in, the air between you suddenly colder,
"Don’t tell me,” they purred, “that you’re actually falling for him.” Their voice curled around the words like silk around a blade. “You’ve toppled emperors, brought conquerors to their knees. Don’t tell me he frightens you.”
“Of course not,” you soothe. “I’m loyal to my maker.”
That seemed to satisfy them; for now.
Desire tilted their head with bored delight. “Good.” They stood, dislodging your hand from their hair with effortless grace. Already, you felt their attention slipping, like warmth pulled from a sunbeam. You had reached the edge of their interest.
You knew what that meant.
Dismissal.
Danger.
The limits of their patience.
“I trust you’ll do well, darling,” they hummed, turning away. “And if you fail... well.” Their voice dipped low, velvet and dangerous. “Even the divine must be reminded where their power comes from.”
They turned back only once, just long enough to brush their fingers across your cheek, the touch featherlight, almost loving.
𓆩༺𓆪
The Dreaming shimmered as you stepped through it.
Night unfolded beneath your feet like silk. Trees rustled with sleeping breath. The stars curved just a little closer, as if the realm itself exhaled your name. You wore power like a veil—seductive, divine, dangerous.
You had no illusions about why you were here. The banquet was a spectacle, yes but your true mission was simple:
Make Morpheus bend.
And when he didn’t?
Take something worth the pain.
Because you could not return to Desire empty-handed.
You nodded politely to Lucienne, who greeted you with a wary but polite stare.
“Please offer Lord Morpheus, King of Dreams, my thanks for his gracious hospitality,” you said, your voice smooth as warm honey.
Lucienne’s expression flickered, curiosity tempered with caution. But you met it with a practiced smile, the kind that had undone kings and gods alike.
While the other guests mingled, drinking, laughing, scheming, you walked the edge of the garden, where dreams were birthed from mist and memory.
You didn’t expect him to greet you.
But he did.
He emerged from the shadow of a silver-leaved tree, tall, still, and dark as eternity. His presence bent the air. His gaze made the stars blink slower.
His voice, when it came, was quiet.
Too quiet.
“You came.”
Your lips curved. “You invited.”
His eyes flicked to your mouth.
“I didn’t think you would.”
You stepped forward, lashes lowering just slightly. “Why not, my king? Would you deny an emissary of Desire a seat at your banquet?”
His gaze traced you, sharp, smoldering. Heat and history laced his silence.
“Forgive me, my lady,” he said at last, his voice low, cool. “You’ve... surprised me. I did not expect Desire to send you.”
You tilted your head. The silk of your gown slid just enough to reveal the elegant curve of your shoulder.
“And yet,” you murmured, letting the words hang like perfume, “here I am.”
𓆩༺𓆪
The banquet was already in full swing when you arrived—deliberately late.
The grand hall fell into a hush.
Gods, monsters, angels, demons, all those who had come to stake their claim on the Key to Hell, turned at once. The sound of your heels echoed like a challenge on the marble floor, each step slow, deliberate. Every eye followed the sway of your hips, the shimmer of silk clinging to your divine form like temptation incarnate.
The air seemed to hold its breath.
From his throne of starlight and shadow, Morpheus lifted his glass, slow, deliberate, and inclined his head.
“Welcome,” he said, voice smooth as velvet, cool as night. His lips curved into the smallest smile.
A secret. A threat. A promise.
You returned it with practiced grace, all honey and elegance, dipping into a curtsy that managed to look both reverent and mocking.
And then you turned from him and vanished into the glittering crowd.
𓆩༺𓆪
You flirted with demons. Danced with gods. Laughed at the jokes of men who had conquered kingdoms and burned empires.
You fed Thor compliments like wine to a champion, generous, warm, intoxicating, until his chest puffed and his laughter cracked the air.
You spun with Lady Nuala and her brother Cluracan of the faerie court, your gown catching candlelight like flame dipped in wine.
You allowed Lord Susano to kiss your hand with trembling reverence, and winked at a demon prince in armor carved from bone, who looked ready to kneel.
And when you dragged your fingers down Prince Azazel’s molten jaw, whispering something wicked in his ear
Across the room, Morpheus’s grip tightened around his goblet.
You noticed, even though he tried to mask it behind a slow sip of wine and his usual expression of sculpted ice. But you felt it: the weight of his gaze on your skin like a promise yet to be claimed.
Possessive.
Inevitable.
Burning.
And you smiled.
𓆩༺𓆪
Later, Prince Loki slithered to your side, silver-tongued and sharp-eyed, wearing charm like a blade too finely polished to see until it bled you dry.
"Seems you've stolen the Dream King's attention," he purred as he offered his arm. “Should I be concerned?”
You took it, of course. Let him guide you to the floor, let him believe he had won some small prize.
“You should be,” you replied, coyly.
He laughed, pleased, and pressed further. “What brings Desire’s favorite into the Court of Dreams?”
You tilted your head, let your eyes trail slowly down the line of his jaw like you were thinking about kissing it.
“Can’t a girl enjoy a party?” you murmured. “A little wine… a little music… a little chaos?”
“But the stakes,” Loki said, voice low now, eyes glinting like a serpent’s. “The Key to Hell. You're no idle guest, darling. What do you really want?”
You gave a laugh, light as starlight. Airy. Untouched.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He grinned, delighted by your evasion.
But even then, you felt it, again.
The weight of his gaze.
Watching. Burning. Unmoving.
Morpheus hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked in.
And you made sure he didn’t stop.
𓆩༺𓆪
That night, before the final speeches, before you would be called to plead Desire’s case, Dream left the Dreaming.
To confront the sibling he once had been closest to.
To confront Desire. He found them lounging in their winding red palace, sprawled across a chaise like they’d been waiting for him all along. The air was thick with perfume and cruelty. Honeyed malice clung to every surface like dew.
“Brother,” Desire purred, smiling like an unsheathed knife. “Come to congratulate me in advance?”
Morpheus stood still, cloaked in shadow, jaw carved in restraint.
“She does not belong to you.”
Desire’s grin only widened. “But she does. She is my creation. I created her out of the want for love, crafted her beauty to topple kingdoms."
“She...this is more than a game.”
Desire leaned forward, elbows resting on their knees, voice syrupy and sharp. “To you, perhaps. But to her? You’re just another conquest. Another ruin she will leave behind. She seduces, she breaks, and then she returns to me, full of secrets, dripping with power.”
Morpheus didn’t flinch. But the silence around him sharpened.
So Desire twisted the blade.
“She doesn’t love you, Morpheus. She loves what I give her. Pleasure. Purpose. Power. A leash made of silk still binds tighter than any crown you offer. You’d put her in a cage. I made her a goddess.”
And in an instant, he was on them.
Morpheus seized Desire by their hair, fingers knotting in their silver-blonde hair, yanking their head back. His voice was low and venomous, thunder wrapped in velvet.
“She is my soulmate,” he hissed. “The one made for me, as I was made for her. She completes me as I complete her. And I will not let you twist her into a weapon against me.”
His grip tightened, shadows swirling at the hem of his cloak.
“Mess with me or mine again, and I shall forget that you are family.”
Desire’s golden eyes lit up with mischief. “Oh, Dream,” they whispered, delighted. “Still clinging to your tragic little fantasies.”
Morpheus shoved them back with cold finality. His cloak flared like wings of smoke as he turned to leave.
“Let me know how she tastes,” Desire called mockingly after him. “Though I imagine you already have a craving.”
𓆩༺𓆪
The banquet had faded into soft murmurs and drunk gods. Candles guttered in their tall candelabras. Laughter echoed like the last notes of a dying dream.
You had excused yourself, heels clicking against obsidian floors. You moved through the Dreaming like a siren, restless, radiant, and searching for something you wouldn’t name.
He found you before you reached the throne room.
“I should have known Desire would send you,” Dream said. His voice was low and dark, like distant thunder dragging across the bones of the earth.
You turned slowly, unsurprised. You already knew what you’d find in his expression, tension wrapped tight beneath stillness, fury curling around the corners of his mouth.
But you didn’t expect the look in his eyes.
The King of Dreams, your soulmate, looking at you like you were the only truth in the universe. Like gravity had finally caught him after centuries of denial. And for one fragile moment, you forgot the script. Forgot the seduction, the mission, the leash.
“I didn’t ask to come,” you said quietly. “They insisted.”
He studied you, gaze drawn to your lips. “You could have refused.”
You laughed, soft and bitter. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect an Endless to understand what it means to say no to your maker.”
That hit something old and raw.
He looked away, only for a moment, but the pain flashed across his face like a shadow over starlight.
“Desire sent you to torment me,” he said at last.
You stepped closer, until only breath lived between you.
“And is it working?”
Morpheus didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
You could feel it, the heat coiling in the space between your bodies, the way his restraint quivered under the weight of want. The hunger that pulsed in him.
The hunger that echoed in you.
Because you burned too.
You always had.
But you would never say it aloud.
𓆩༺𓆪
Your hand tangled in his hair, fingers threading through soft strands as his mouth found the sensitive hollow of your throat, hot, demanding, a whisper of fire against your skin. A shiver raced down your spine before you realized you were falling, back meeting the cool, smooth satin of his black sheets.
The walls around you shimmered, alive with flickering visions, fractured reflections of yourself, captured in the dreams of lovers long past. Some faces blurred with longing, others with torment. You gasped, part fear, part something dark and thrilling. To be seen like this, so many versions of you laid bare, was terrifying and intoxicating.
Morpheus pulled back just enough to look down at you, eyes glinting with an obsession deeper than you’d dared imagine. “You look even more beautiful here, in the Dreaming,” he murmured, voice thick with longing and sorrow. His gaze softened as he added, “It’s a tragedy you never let yourself dream. I have craved to reach you in my domain, but you’ve always kept the door closed.”
His words landed heavy, stirring something rebellious within you. “Maybe I didn’t want you inside,” you said, your voice edged with defiance. “Some things are better left locked away.”
He smiled, a slow, knowing curve that promised change and challenge. “Not tonight.”
Your breath hitched. The tension between you tightened, electric and raw.
You shifted closer, lips barely brushing his ear, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “If I let you touch me… will you give Desire the key?”
“No.”
His answer was immediate, like thunder rolling across the sky. Final.
Yet you stepped closer anyway, sinking to your knees , hands moving to the belt at his waist, fingers deftly unbuckling with deliberate slowness. The sharp click echoed through the quiet room, followed by the hitch of his breath, dark and hungry.
“I was sent to seduce you,” you confessed, voice low and steady, laced with a dangerous honesty.
“I know.”
Rising from the floor, you deliberately began unlacing your tight dress, each slow, deliberate movement drawing his full attention. The fabric slipped down your shoulders, pooling softly around your ankles, leaving you bare before him. His gaze followed every inch of exposed skin, dark and hungry, drinking you in like a feast he’d been starving for.
He looked ready to devour you whole.
With a measured grace, you shed the final barriers between you—the last pieces of silk that dared to shield your most intimate parts. Bathed in the soft moonlight, the glistening wetness of your arousal between your thighs caught his eye. A low, approving hum vibrated from deep in his throat, thick with anticipation.
“And I will fail,” you added, the truth delicate and raw, hanging fragile between you.
His fingers traced a trembling path along your cheek, so light and reverent it was as if he feared you might vanish like a fading dream.
“Then let us fail together,” he breathed, voice heavy with promise.
𓆩༺𓆪
The bed swallowed you both in shadow and silk.
His lips claimed yours with fierce tenderness, kissing like you were the last breath, the first heartbeat, the ache in every quiet moment. His hands worshipped every curve, gliding along your waist, tracing ribs, the tender swell of your hips, the delicate hollow behind your knees.
Your breath caught as he explored, fingers teasing, hands steady, each touch igniting a slow-burning fire beneath your skin.
His lips teased your skin like a slow fire, tracing your throat, biting gently, tasting every inch with deliberate worship. His hands never hurried, sliding down your sides, lingering over your ribs and hips, coaxing a moan from deep within you.
You expected to lead, to tease him like you had your other lovers. But here, he took control, mastering your body and will with subtle confidence, building your desire until it twisted tight in your belly.
He brushed your nipples with feather-light touches, then pulled away at the height of your ache, leaving you breathless and desperate.
“You crave release,” he murmured, “but I will give it to you when I choose.”
His voice was low, dark, possessive, each word a command that made your skin tingle.
He kissed you fiercely, teeth grazing your lips, tongue sliding inside with intoxicating hunger. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wide, and then he slipped inside you with slow, torturous precision.
Each thrust was a promise, slow and controlled, teasing your senses to the edge and pulling back. His body pressed to yours, hot and demanding, a contrast to his patient torment. He pauses his movement for a moment, straightening onto his knees, hands firmly holding your hips against his. Your lower half is lifted onto his lap, back arching from your position as you remain splayed out on the bed in front of him, legs wrapped around his hips.
He leans back slightly, his eyes roaming over your form. He takes in the way your stomach rises and falls with each breath, the way your ribs expand and contract. He notices the way your fingers twist into the silk sheets above your head, gripping tightly as if trying to anchor yourself in this moment.
Morpheus's gaze lingers on where his arousal mixes with yours, before he resumes his thrusts, mercilessly hitting the spot that makes you melt in his arms and cry out in pleasure, finding it again and again. Your breasts bounce with each rough thrust, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.
His hair is messy, intense gaze fixed on you as he fucks into you repeatedly. His lips are parted slightly, low groans and moans escaping his throat every time he is fully buried inside you.
One of his hands slides between your legs to find your clit, rubbing in quick circles to add to the pleasure . “You belong to me,” he whispered, voice thick with need. “Not Desire.”
Your body clenched, trembling as he pushed you closer to the brink again and again, his rhythm relentless, merciless.
Finally, when you were gasping, nearly undone, he deepened his strokes.
You came apart, nails digging into his back, voice broken and raw.
Morpheus held you through it, still moving, his own release crashing through him with a low groan as he spilled deep inside you. You can feel him softening inside you before he rolls off of you, exhausted and blissfully spent. His release slowly leaking out of you, a reminder of your betrayal to your creater.
He lay beside you, utterly spent, chest rising and falling with deep, satisfied breaths. His limbs were heavy and warm, every inch softened by release.
You waited until his breaths relaxed, his body slipping into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Then, like a shadow melting into the night, you slipped free of his arms.
Your bare feet whispered against the cool floor as you moved silently through the room, drawn to the pouch nestled among the folds of his garments, glittering with the soft, ethereal shimmer of dream sand. You knew he always kept it close. More precious than gold. More dangerous than any truth you could carry.
With careful fingers, you tucked it deep inside the folds of your cloak.
And then you left.
No words.
No kiss.
Only the lingering scent of your skin on his sheets and the bitter bloom of guilt twisting slow and sharp in your chest.
Warning(s): 18+, Dark Morpheus, slight spoilers, slight sexual stuff, choking.
A/N: Psh obviously titles aren’t my strongest suit. Also, the very, very light smirk in the gif is *chef’s kiss*. (And I'm dry on ideas so feel free to gimme sum :DD). As always, enjoy reading!
Taglist: NIL
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The hand luggage landed with a light ‘thud’, [Name] straightening her coat with pursed lips. The mansion was nothing like the others she has visited. It was bigger, antique and from the research she had done, it was old. The old doors creaked open, a woman stepped out with a warm smile.
“Hello, you must be [Name],” She extended her hand out and [Name] couldn't help but take in the warmth of the woman as she shook the elderly woman’s hand.
[Name] had a feeling she knew what to expect upon taking the first step into the mansion. Everything about it was old, from the furniture, to the wall and to the decorations. Her eyes observed as other housekeepers scurried around to complete their daily chores while security guards patrolled the hallways. “Odd..,” [Name] thought. The house was old, yes and she was sure it held treasures belonging to the Burgess family but guards patrolling the hallways? It was odd indeed. [Name] chose to brush the thought off but kept it close in the back of her mind as Edith acquainted her with the interior of the mansion, her room as well as her chores. There was no fixed uniform, thankfully, except she had to dress in black clothing to stand out from the other staff. That was fine by her and [Name] somehow couldn't wait to start work.
“That I am,”
“Good. I’m Edith and I am the head housekeeper here. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Master Burgess is currently unavailable at the moment so I will be tending to you. Come,”
After all, it paid very well indeed.
[Name]’s days in the mansion were interesting and as the months passed, she made friends with the other housekeepers. She shared rooms with Sarah, a more senior housekeeper compared to [Name] who helped her familiarise herself with the standard procedures with constant reminder that she should never wander aimlessly around the mansion without motive or else she would end up in the wrong places and end up in bigger troubles.
But [Name] can’t help it. History was her thing and there were rumours about his mansion. About a cult within its walls. She wasn’t afraid, of course. The rumour goes like this: There was a cult back in the 1900s that apparently tangled themselves with the Devil and somehow, they had managed to capture the Devil and kept him in the basement. [Name] had yet to find the entrance to the basement to see if it were all true but there were just too many activities going on in daytime, which was why she ended up exploring the mansion further during nightfall.
The hallways were really dark with the exception of the moonlight pouring through the windows. [Name] swallowed, clutching her notebook close as she peered around corners with quiet footsteps narrowly avoiding patrolling guards. She pressed herself between a wall and a closet as footsteps approached her position.
“Y’know, I don’t get why the fuck we gotta sit down there all day and watch him all day. We both bloody know that he hasn’t gone out for the past 100 years and he won’t ever,” A guard complained. [Name]’s eyes widened, forcing a gasp down and peered over to find one of the guard’s hands closing a hidden door by the main office.
Bingo
“Quit complaining. The only reason why I’m even staying is because the pay is good,” The second replied and the first sighed loudly.
“You know what? Fuck this. He isn’t getting out anytime soon and we need some drinks. Let’s get the fuck out of here,” And as much as the second guard wanted to protest, his friend was right. He really needed a drink.
[Name] waited until they were truly gone before making her way down the hall. She held her notebook tightly, pushing the door open quietly. The musty smell of the basement almost made her gag. Shaking her head, she stepped in, closing the door behind her as she made her way down the short flight of stars.
[Name] swallowed. She didn’t really know what to expect. Were the rumours true? If it was, how should she react? Would he have horns and a tail? Or..
“Snap out of it, [Name]!” She scolded herself, stopping just a few short steps away from the metal gates that led to the inner parts of the basement. She stopped because she had to recollect herself and her thoughts before continuing on…
Morpheus felt the air shift, lifting his head from his knees as he stared forward, cold, cold eyes glaring at the metal gates. There was someone here down with him. He tilted his head a little, anticipation growing bigger as he waited for the being to reveal themself. This one felt different. This one felt nothing like the Burgess boy or the guards. This one interested him.
Said this one took a deep breath and exhaled quietly.
“Okay, [Name]. Whatever it is down here, it’s probably nothing. It’s just rumours and the basement is full of old antiques, treasure and whatnot,” She reassured herself, eyes fluttering open.
Now or never.
[Name] descended the last few steps and turned towards the basement. The lights were dim but she was very sure that the sight before her was something she had least expected. She expected chains and the Devil but not this. The notebook slipped for her hand and the sound of impact made her jump. From afar, she saw the being’s head tilted further, eyes watching her every movement. [Name] inhaled deeply again, calming her racing heart as her hand reached down to collect her book off the dirty floor.
[Name] slowly approached the glass cage and as she did, she studied the man. It saddened her to see him in such a manner and with his humility thrown out the window. They could at least give him something to cover himself? Somehow, this annoyed the girl.
Morpheus watched the girl’s movements. She was someone new, this he realised. He wanted to stand but went against his decision, afraid his own…bareness would scare the girl away. He noted that even if her presence was new, he should not be swayed by it. For the past century, it has been very cruel for him. She could be the same as the others.
“Um..Hello,” [Name] greeted with a nervous smile. She glanced down, markings of gold surrounding the glass cage. Perhaps to keep him in? Or to keep others like him out? She didn’t know.
“I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Oh, I hope I didn’t,” There was a flash of distress across her face momentarily before she realised that the man barely reacted to anything. Now, she was sure as hell that he was not the Devil.
“I didn’t think the rumours were true but then again, I didn’t know what to expect,” [Name] let out a nervous laughter, carefully stepping up to the glass cage. She leaned in closely, lips parted as she looked at him all over.
“C-Can you talk?” She asked.
No reaction. She guessed he could but just refused to do so.
“Um, okay,..uh..” She fumbled, opening her notebook. He was such a fine specimen to sketch.
“Is it okay if I sketched you? I’ll keep the..bad bits out. It’s an odd request, I know but I’m just so intrigued. Again, I’m sorry,” [Name] chuckled nervously, retrieving her pencil. Morpheus could only stare, confused with everything that’s happening in such a short moment.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m [Name]. I’m the new housekeeper here because..well, I need the money and frankly, there were so many stories about this place and..uh..it’s a pretty house on the exterior. I like to sketch everything and..yeah! That’s about it,” She bit her lip as she moved the pencil all over the paper.
Every stroke, every line, every detail led to a growth of sadness that resided in her heart.
Eventually, she stopped drawing and shut her book.
“I’m sorry,” [Name] said.
“Look, I don’t know why they kept you here or how long but I am going to let you out. Yes, I don’t know you, you don’t know me but nobody and I mean nobody, should be caged like an animal. I’ll get you out..I just have to figure out how first..Hang in there, okay?” She smiled warmly, pressing a hand to the cool glass.
Morpheus’s eyes flickered to the hand then back to her face. So many thoughts raced through his mind but nothing made sense and as he tried to make sense of them, he was forced to watch her leave.
Research was never easy and if anything, [Name] didn’t like research. Even if the research involved something she didn’t understand, she swore to herself that she was going to release the man. During her free time, she would visit the library in hopes of finding something about releasing the man in the basement. Then, during the night time, at every opportunity she could get, she visited the man. She didn’t care if he did not talk to her. She would try her best to keep him at ease while her research progressed on.
Each meeting would involve [Name] talking to him about herself and her life as well as her day, how good or how bad it was and Morpheus would just listen. His instincts were true and that she was harmless and innocent. She violated everything just to spend time with him at every chance she got and this made him feel something. Every time she visited him, he took the time to notice little details about her from head to toe. He knew so much about her from her stories and this fueled his primal urges deep within him. Something he didn’t know he even had. She was something he wanted all his life, something so different from the past lovers he had. Her dedication to him was enough to let Morpheus know that she was made for him. His blunt nails dug into the smooth glass, jaw tight as he stared at the two guards with deadly eyes. When he gets out, he was going to take [Name] away from everything.
This was a promise.
[Name] realised the more time she spent with the man, her heart felt for him and it aches each time their eyes meet through the thick glass cage. Work upstairs was beginning to get harder and harder because all she could think of was to see Morpheus again. Those nights where she was unable to visit him, she would flip through her notebook. There were many gorgeous sketches of him and it would bring a smile to her face. Sarah would question here on why she was always smiling and her answer was always simple and that was that her notebook held beauties only she could comprehend. Her visit to Morpheus was always the same..
Until one day, it wasn’t.
[Name] made sure the coast was clear first before sneaking down to the basement and the view before her had her horrified. The glass cage was broken and the man was no more. She brought a hand to her chest, eyes growing hot. What happened here? Did they kill him? Where has he gone? Too many questions raced [Name]’s mind. She was supposed to be the one to save him, to get him out but he was gone and she didn’t know what happened to him.
So, she did what she had to do. She packed her items on the very same night and ran back home, away from the mansion, away from everything that had happened for the man she had fallen for was no more.
It took weeks for [Name] to normalise back and months to forget about the events of the Burgess mansion. She had a new job at a cafe just a few blocks down the road and this job was quiet enough for the girl. She genuinely enjoyed it.
She packed up for the day and left for her home. As [Name] stepped in, immediately the air didn’t feel light. She furrowed her brows, turning on the lights as she brushed off the odd feeling.
Yet somehow, it felt familiar to her.
[Name] placed her bag on her bed, getting out of her dirty clothes for a much needed hot shower. The cool air pricked her skin, goosebumps appearing on her arms as she stood in front of the mirror for her nightly routine. Dark eyes continued watching her amongst the shadows, eyes trailing down her bare back and lower. His tongue wet his lips, a smirk curled on the corner of it.
[Name] stepped into the shower, the warm water was heavenly on her tired body. Her fingers laced between the locks of her hair, mind drifting as she listened to the sound of the water. Her mind reminisced back to the man in the glass cage. She missed him but she chose to firmly believe that he was not gone. Her heart still ached for him after all this time.
Her eyes fluttered close, enjoying the sensation of water falling on her skin.
Then, lean fingers ghosted over her neck before wrapping around it gently. She didn’t need to resist. She knew who it was.
Wet lips ghosted over her ear as the hand around her neck guided her to lean back. His chest was broad and strong and a low moan left [Name]’s lips as she rested against his chest.
“Ever since you came to me, I knew you were the right one for me. Your voice was like music to my ears, your beauty captivating and your determination to save me was..commendable indeed. All I thought about was to have you for my own and I was afraid that you might get caught by the guards..Yet here you are,” Morpheus purred, slowly tightening his grip on [Name]’s neck. Her eyes flew open, a hand shot up to grab his hand that held her neck. Air was slowly running out.
“I will have you and no one else will. Nothing can take you away from me ever again. I will make sure that you..,” Morpheus gripped [Name]’s neck even tighter now, her world began spinning as she desperately clawed at his hand.
“Will forever be bound to me,” Morpheus promised.
The spinning world eventually turned black. Morpheus held her in his arms, a smile curled on his full lips as he took her expression. Though unconscious, she still wore the smile Morpheus fell for.
Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x reader
Fandom: The Sandman
Word Count: 2017
Warning(s): Dark Morpheus, unhealthy obsession, lightly detailed smooching scene
A/N: This is a one shot!! I was inspired by the god x worshipper trope because when I first saw it, I was like ‘I gotta write a fic on this’. Thank you to @beautifulbows924 for this inspiration and for the read of your own take on this trope! I also combined the virgin!reader with this trope :D. Enjoy reading and comments are appreciated!
Taglist: @beautifulbows924
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Since young, books and mythology had been a topic of interest for [Name]. First, it was the Egyptian gods and then it led to more than just Gods. Upon entering adulthood, her obsession grew more intricate to a point where it led to the discovery of special omnipotent beings that not many in the world knew. A special set of beings that were the embodiment of natural forces. [Name] travelled around the world, researching old books, visiting places where it was once said that these beings had visited.
Her obsession never stopped. Specifically to one being. Dream of the Endless. Everything she did, she did it in His name. Every decision she made, she would thank Him for helping her choose the right path. He was like God to her, praying to Him to try to make herself known to Him. Within the compounds of her little home sat a little shrine, ‘items’ dedicated to Him and for Him only. She dressed specially for Him, kept herself pure for Him to take.
Every night when she goes to bed, she prayed her dreams would involve Him. Everything had to be about Him. [Name] has dedicated her life to Him and for Him only.
[Name] had heard of a cult who had managed to capture one of the Endless. She was ready to travel over to witness everything with her own eyes but alas, a message got to her saying that they had captured the wrong Endless and it destroyed her. So much so that she immediately ran to her shrine and prayed for days and for nights.
Over the years, her collection relating to the Endless had grown very slowly. There was a book where the written language was nothing known to mankind, a slab of stone written in the same language. It baffled the girl at how incompetent mankind was in realising that there are godly beings who walk among them. However, the most important item sitting on her shrine was kept in a very small cylindrical bottle. Inside, held hair. Hair as dark as the fur of a panther, hair that was as dark as the night. It was said that this hair actually belonged to Dream Himself, when he roamed the streets of the City of Glass. On the topic of this, [Name] felt actual jealousy upon knowing that the ancient queen and Him tangled with one another.
She wanted that very much.
Sitting in the dimly lit room, one lit by candles on the shrine, [Name] held her head down, eyes skimming the yellowed page of the book. The unknown language made her head spin. What exactly did she have to do to get His attention? To call Dream of the Endless to her and notice her worship for Him? Screaming in frustration, she smashed her fist into the marble tile. The impact split her skin, the strain to her skin allowed blood through.
There were times when she wanted to give up hope, give up on the fact that her master had not yet noticed her. But she never went there. [Name] knew better and knew that she had to do more for Him to notice her.
A light vibration pulled [Name] out of her anger, her phone lit up with a notification.
‘I got what you asked for. Meet me in Greece,’ The text said. She leaned over to pick her phone up to reply, wiping her thumb of blood first.
‘Where?’
‘Island of Naxos,’
[Name] didn’t hesitate on what she did next.
The weather was warm and inviting the minute [Name] stepped out into the Grecian weather, pulling her sunglasses back down on her nose. There was no time to waste. She hailed for a taxi, which brought her to the hotel where she would be meeting a fellow follower.
Leon shook [Name]’s hand with a smile, guiding the woman for a sit.
He reached into his bag, pulling out a small case. He set it gently on the table, the locks open with a click. Turning it over to face [Name], he raised the lid, revealing a small, very clearly, a handwritten book. It was thin, looked light and as she leaned in closely, it was written in the old Greek language. Her jaw slacked, eyes widened as the closer she examined the book, the more she realised that it was a true piece.
“This is real?”
Leon nodded with a hum. “Very real. Very, very real. I did a light read and it’s there. What you need, I mean,”
[Name] inhaled deeply, forefinger caressing the spine of the book. She reached into her own bag, retrieving his payment in the form of two big wads of cash. A brief exchange of goods and a briefer exchange of thanks and they part their ways.
[Name] knew she had much work to complete.
Days turned to weeks and the study room was in a mess. Messy written notes discarded on the floor, an empty mug that had been there since day one, [Name] hadn’t stopped and only doing so when she needed to eat, sleep and relieve herself. But everyday, her progress was getting better and better to the point that she was almost done translating.
[Name] kneeled before the shrine, glasses perched on her nose as her hand moved messily around the paper.
“..If you wish to invoke his presence, to..to summon..uh..to summon the God of Dreams, say his name..,” She mumbled, eyes wide. Was this it? The end of her journey but the beginning of her proper worshipping? One where she would constantly kneel before His throne, dressed in nothing but a black, translucent cloth to please His eyes, her hand rested on His thigh while their eyes locked? The imagination itself was enough to send goosebumps on her skin.
[Name] took in a deep breath before exhaling. As she turned to the next and final page, there was only a single word written. And she knew what it was. Quietly, she translated, eyes focused on the language book without looking at the name she was writing on the paper. Her eyes focused on the last letter, indicating that was the end of it. The end of the book. Slowly, she averted her eyes to the paper, a smile curled on both corners of her lips.
“Oneiros..,” The name rolled off her tongue like butter, enough to make a god crumble to his knees. [Name] looked around, her apartment empty as usual. A tired sigh left her lips. He wouldn’t just come to her just like that. Perhaps a little rest won’t hurt.
[Name] dropped her pen on the paper, leaving the study room for her bedroom. Kicking off her bedroom slippers, she crawled under the duvet, the warmth engulfing her like a lover. As she fell asleep, she dreamt…
The world was dark. Everything was in pure darkness and yet there [Name] stood, in the darkness. She looked to the sides to find nothing but pure emptiness. She turned around and spotted something in the far distance.
“Hello?” She called out. No reply. Just silence, like outer space. Her legs began moving her towards the direction of that something and the closer she got, the clearer it became. A man and a woman. The woman had her arms around his neck, eyes closed while the man had his hands gripping her waist. Low moans came from the woman, soft grunts and growls came from the man as their kisses were filled with passion and hunger. This confused [Name]. What was this dream? What did it mean? She slowed to a stop, a few metres away from the couple. The closer [Name] looked, the more she recognised the woman. She looked strikingly similar to her and this alarmed the girl.
The woman’s eyes flew open, lips still sensually locked with the man and [Name] looked on in horor. It was her! She took a step back as the woman whispered something in the man’s ear. He turned his head slightly, enough to look at [Name] over his shoulder with a dark look and a smirk on his red lips.
[Name] gasped awake, sitting up and panting lightly. The skies outside were still dark and the clock read that it was close to two in the morning. What the girl failed to register was the fact that the woman in her dream, her, was entangled with a man she had never seen before. She swallowed, pushing the duvet off her legs.
“Oneiros,” She whispered, seeking his help to calm her heart down. The girl left her bedroom for her kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, unaware that a pair of glowing eyes was watching her among the darkness. A few gulps down and her heart was steady enough to visit her shrine again.
But this time, something felt off about everything.
[Name] set her glass down, quietly leaving the kitchen for the study room. The room was still the way it was so what changed? She gulped, kneeling down before her shrine and closed her eyes. Her prayer was quiet but loud enough for Him to hear.
A cool hand hovered over her head, a low hum coming from the being.
“I hear you..I hear your call, my beloved,” The voice, deep and low, sent shivers down her spine. [Name]’s eyes slowly open. Morpheus stood before her, as soft gasp left her lips.
“Oneiros..,” Her words trailed off as Morpheus kneeled down, a small smile on his lips. His fingers rested on her chin, tilting her head so their eyes met. He took in a deep breath, humming lowly.
“My beloved, such a good and obedient little worshipper. I have lived endlessly and never have I met anyone as devoted as you,” There was adoration and slight mockery to his words, definitely from the fact that [Name] was obsessed with Him.
“Oneiros–,”
“Please, dear one. Morpheus,” He corrected her firmly yet gently.
The girl swallowed. “M-Morpheus, you’re here..You’re actually here..I..,” Her breath hitched, captured by his dark beauty. His beauty matched Him well. This was Him. Her God.
“I h-have worshipped you for years, prayed to you, did things in your name..kept my purity as my gift for you. I never stopped worshipping you, finding ways to you, hoping you would hear my call,” She rambled on and the grip on her chin was enough to tell her to stop. Morpheus released her chin, turning his hand. The girl took it, standing. His cold eyes stared down at her as his hand snaked to the back of her neck. Morpheus pulled her close, the girl nuzzling his neck while he nuzzled her hair. The scent of it triggered his head wildly and deliciously.
The girl moaned lightly, hands resting on his chest. His hands moved down to rest on her hips, gripping it lightly.
“My beloved, are you ready to fully devote yourself to me? To kneel by my feet for the rest of your life? To worship every step I take? To share the same bed with me? To allow me to revel in your purity in all of its might?” Morpheus’s warm lips brushed against her ear, a low whimper left [Name]’s lips.
“You will stay with me forever in my realm, in my palace. You can never return here and should you do anything I do not like, you will be punished. Are you ready for a life with me?”
His words were a warning to her. [Name] still had time to back out. But why should she? Her devotion to Morpheus was stronger than her own logic. Like a mindless soldier following his captain to a shadow war. She pulled away so their eyes met, her hand moving to the back of his head. Her fingers gently tug on the hair there. He needed to hear the key words, only then will he whisk her away.
[Name] smiled widely, leaning up slowly to nuzzle affectionately against his rough jaw.
