Sandman Netfix - Tumblr Posts
sorry for the late reblog. was busy in school stuff..
anyways..
Though it’s sad, I was kinda expecting this outcome in the dynamics between Mera and Dream. The only reason that the relationship would seem functional was for her to develop a combination of stockholm syndrome and an unhealthy trauma response.
If only Dream learnt early on how to not be a creep, then Mera would probably be endeared to him.
The Dream That Got Away
Chapter 13
Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)
This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol
(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)
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Link to the Masterlist
Overall Warnings!! Take heed:
Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay
18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language
DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes
Character death (sort of)
Creator vs Creation drama
And other dark stuff that may be added in the future
This chapter’s warnings:
graphic dub-con ahead - turn back now if this disturbs you :)
touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own
PTSD and trauma angst, and selective amnesia (depicted creatively) resulting from trauma
reader still hearing voices
manipulation galore
You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!
Link to the previous chapter
Chapter 13: Under the Starry Night Sky
You whip your head around in alarm at the voice, a young woman’s, that had just entered the room and echoed inside the dungeon.
Impossible. Could she have –?
She stands in the corner of the dungeon twirling her wild, multi-coloured, shoulder-length hair, wearing a brown coat too large for her petite frame over her underwear and what seems to be a torn fishnet body suit. She has the appearance of a teenager, but there’s something about her that feels like she’s older than she looks – dangerous, powerful…
Endless.
“I don’t like being ogled at. That’s a funny word, but ‘gawk’ is even funnier, I think,” she says, her voice almost having the quality of a thousand colours in the spectrum. “I do that a lot, these days – think? Even right now, I’m thinking of thinking, while also thinking about what you’re thinking.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ogle, or gawk, or stare,” you amend, flashing her a small smile in greeting. “Lady Delirium.”
She ignores your greeting and favours continuing her line of questioning.
“I can also hear the Voice thinking, but it already went quiet.”
Your smile is wiped off your face at once at her words. Before you, Lady Delirium keeps muttering to herself, confirming what you had dreaded when she walked in.
“I hear voices all the time, you know. There’s that one from the butcher shop, then two coming from a saleslady at a posh department store – I never liked their clothes, they always look so, uh, posh-y, I don’t know the word really. Then there’s this one lady who can actually see me, except no one believes her. But the voice inside her talks to me too. Yours won’t talk now. Do you know ‘what’s here’?”
“I don’t know, actually,” you say slowly, trying to choose your words carefully. “You mean, you can actually hear it?”
Swaying on her feet, she starts creating bubbles out of thin air, popping them with glee. “Oh yeah. It’s not very friendly to me. Not yet anyway, they all become my friends in the end. What about you? Are you a friend?”
Caught by surprise at the question, you stammer, “I – but of course, i-if my Lady wishes me so,” you manage with a shy smile.
“Great!” Lady Delirium exclaims, taking both your hands in hers. Her wide, mismatched eyes look into yours with delight, and you return her toothy grin, even if you find her stare somewhat unnerving – it’s a stare that feels like it sees you bare, looking through and living in your innermost thoughts.
“I’ve heard friends help each other find what they lost. You see, we lost a brother,” she says as she quite literally drags you out of the dungeon by the sleeve. You both reach the foot of a staircase, presumably ascending to one of the main halls, where she stops suddenly, looking at you with doe eyes and a pout. “I tried convincing my siblings to help me look for him, but they all turned me away like I was a n-n-uuu-isaaance.”
Right before you, she pauses her speech as her hair transitions from her rainbow-coloured hair, shortening to almost a dull, badly cut bob. She pops a lone bubble dolefully, before asking, “Do you think I’m a nnuuu-iiissaaance, Mera?”
“Of course not, my Lady,” you reply with a soft smile, recalling a certain Endless who had turned away and rejected your pleas. “I know the feeling.”
“So, you’ll help me find my brother? The one we lost, I mean, not the mean one, or Destiny, ‘cause he’s not going anywhere, he never leaves his garden, you know…”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Yay!!”
With a thrilled squeal, Lady Delirium lets go of you and climbs the stairs, with you following behind.
Shit. Suddenly, you remember: she can hear the Voice and she may very well tell her brother.
“Uh, Lady Delirium?” you call out to her as she wobbles in her steps off the far end of the hallway.
“Yeah?”
“Remember how you said we can be friends?” you start, shooting her a hopeful look. “Can you keep the Voice you heard a secret? Please?”
She turns her head at you, her mouth forming a comical ‘o’ at your request. Finally, she says, “Sure, I keep many secrets, I’m rather good at them! The people who see me tend to reveal stuff, and even if they don’t really like telling them, they tell me anyway. Even Dream has a secret, but I can’t tell you…” With a flair, she places her forefinger to her lips.
“Thank you, Lady Delirium,” you say with a relieved sigh.
Taking your hand once more, she walks on, turning right to another hallway you’re not familiar with. She continues telling you stories that don’t connect and don’t make sense, but you listen anyway, knowing she could teach you a thing or two.
“I know where we can start looking for my brother. He created the Abyss, and Dream offered it a place to stay somewhere here, in his realm, but I don’t really know where. But I’m close, I think? I just rowed to the wrong island, I think.”
“Hang on,” you wonder, your curiosity spiking. “Isn’t that just a myth? The Abyss?”
“I suppose it could be for someone who hasn’t really seen it,” she just replies casually.
After three of four left turns and five rights, you later find yourselves in the same hallway as before when you came out of the dungeon’s staircase.
“My Lady, I think we’re lost…” you comment, looking around for another way out besides what you’ve already passed.
Her only reply is cryptic.
“Being lost is only temporary, but if it isn’t, then maybe you’re meant to be there and you’re not really lost, I dunno,” she says with a nonchalant shrug. She then pushes the door to her left open and enters, with you trailing behind.
You’re greeted by the sight of the tall, all-black figure of Dream of the Endless, standing in the middle of the room.
“My sister, my Dream,” he acknowledges you both, tilting his head in his sister’s direction. “What brings you both here? Little sister, you know better than to enter my realm without consulting me in my Gallery.”
“But you weren’t answering, and Desire told me to ‘go away,’” she counters, her hair growing rapidly and turning ash-blonde with red and green highlights. At her brother’s hard, chastising stare, she continues, her voice quivering as if trying not to cry, “And Death is busy, as always, and Destiny just kept telling me nonsense, I couldn’t make out any of his words, and Despair told me to ‘give up’ but you know I can’t, I just miss our brother terribly and what if something bad happened, or something…so there.”
The Dream Lord sighs in mild irritation before pinching the bridge of his nose.
“We have been through this, little sister. Our brother does not want to be found. Now, I have my realm to attend to. Perhaps it’s best you return to yours.”
“I knew you’d say that,” she says with a dejected sigh. “At least Mera was kind enough to offer help.” She sticks her tongue out at her brother, before waving at you farewell and disappearing into a blinding, white crack in the space.
***
You had expected (or hoped?) to see Lady Delirium again, but you don’t see a single hair of hers after her visit. More than a month has since passed – but then again, you had stopped counting since the second week. You’re still imprisoned – in the castle and in your own mind. If you aren’t catatonically staring out to open the sea or the grey walls, or in bed, sleeping, you take to locking yourself up in the bathroom after your Dream Lord leaves for his duties. The Voice isn’t much help either. It has so far only spoken one thing since it’s been heard by Lady Delirium: the word ‘dungeon.’ Exactly what the fuck that meant, you had entirely no clue. Perhaps it isn’t really the Voice you heard, but you going out of your mind. After all, why would Lady Delirium choose to come to you, if you had not started going over the edge?
Having so much time alone by yourself, you had every opportunity to replay the events that had led to your imprisonment, but since that day you saw a vision of the blurry man in Ethan the Knight’s place, your memory has been coming in fragments, if not an entirely blank sheet. No matter how hard you try or how loud you scream, nothing would come, except distorted shapes and muddled emotions.
It has been hours since your Dream Lord left this morning. As you sit on the cold bathroom floor hugging your knees to your chest, crying desperately for any recall that wouldn’t come, it dawns on you that you had hit rock bottom and are in bad need of help.
You had called to him many times before. Will he listen to your pleas this time?
***
Dream of Endless expects that when he comes home to you and to the tower he’s keeping you in, he’ll find you on the bathroom floor sulking.
He had known for quite some time that you had switched from watching the sea melancholically to hiding in the bathroom whenever he’s gone away. He has watched you gradually spiral into depression at being left in the castle for long periods of time without anything to do besides wandering the decrepit fortress, and there are some days he wonders to himself whether he had gone too far in punishing you, if your recent brush with his sister Delirium is anything to go by. On those days in question, he would find his resolve weakening when he hears you plead so woefully beside him as he holds you close in the night, but of course, he never lets it show. In response, would only shush your crying in the softest ways he can – you had to learn, you had to live through your penance before he could shower you with all the luxury the whole of Dreaming can offer. He could not let you, his most beloved, walk away without so much as a slap on your wrist for defying his orders and daring to love anyone else other than him, to whom all your love, affection, and loyalty should belong. It had hurt him the way you continued spurning him, true, but your suffering brought him no joy. Also, although he had thoroughly taken boundless pleasure in every single night he had laid with you, it certainly does not sit well with him to have to force you to fulfil your duties to him, your King, as the King himself does to his realm. No matter: he is sure you will one day see the error of your ways.
And he had another reason for keeping you in the tower and away from everyone else: he knew from the very beginning that isolating you – when you’re still mourning the loss of that detestable mortal that dared keep you from him by way of that deplorable magic – would drive you to inconsolable spirits, and who better to save you from despair than him? He is aware he had started to chip off your rebelliousness, and you had started seeking him yourself to plead your case – he will take you back to his palace eventually, and if he does it at just the right time, he might be able to push you further into accepting your place beside him as his princess-consort.
Morpheus arrives on the balcony of the tower, tired from a long day and very much ready to spend the entire night hogging your warmth. He lets out an imperceptible sigh of relief – since he has placed you here, he has looked forward to coming home to you every night. He could just see how happy you would both be in each other’s arms under the pale moonlight of the Dreaming once he has reinstated your place in his own palace at the heart of his kingdom.
The instant he steps inside the room, he hears soft sobs coming from the bathroom. He reaches you in no time, sitting beside you on the floor and scooping you in his arms. It warms his heart the way you wrap your arms around him at once; he knows you’re starved for company, so he relishes the willing contact. He buries his face in your hair, greedily taking in your scent.
“My Lord, please,” he hears you beg against his shirt, your voice cracking from crying all day. “Please, take me back to the palace, I beg you. I’m trying not to lose my mind, but it’s just so damn hard when all I get to see is this stupid, decaying castle all the time.”
“It pains me to see you this distraught, dream of mine,” he replies softly as he caresses your exposed cheek with his forefinger. Has he pushed you close to your limit?
“Then, free me, my Lord…please,” you choke out.
Vaguely, he recalls the same words from a woman he thought he once loved: one he had sent to Hell for scorning him as you have done.
This time, could he find it in his heart to forgive?
But, this woman was nothing like you, the dream he had so lovingly and meticulously crafted to perfection.
Morpheus carefully chooses his next words. “My Mera, I do not mean to cause you so much anguish.”
Your voice comes as a faint whisper, but the subtle rebuke in it makes him pause momentarily.
“And yet you insist on keeping me here as punishment for something I can’t even remember…
“I know I did something bad, I tried to escape, but my memory – they come in fragments. And I try, but every time I think I’m close, everything becomes blurry again,” you say weakly as he feels your trembling hand crumple his shirt to try to stave off the fresh bout of tears.
“I just want to go back, please…”
Dream, lost for words, places a lingering kiss on your hair as he weaves his sand to send you to unconsciousness. If you were on the brink of mental collapse, he needs you in deep sleep to confirm his suspicions.
He had vowed to himself never to stoop so low as to dive into your mind, let alone even touch your thoughts, but he had to see for himself what your state of mind has become. Once inside, he immediately notices a barrier: behind it are memories of Oliver Chapman and all the time you spent with him – all of it he finds revolting and insulting, it actually leaves a bitter, lingering taste on his tongue. He watches every single memory with shaking fists, allowing his bitter jealousy to course through his veins. This is the first time he’s looking into your so-called love through your eyes, and he wants nothing at that moment but to squeeze the life out of the man that had stolen you right under his nose. He turns away when he gets to a kiss you shared at a bar – he might not help himself from spilling the mortal’s blood if he so much as witnessed another one, and a kiss you had willingly shared with him, at that. Seeing you readily run to the arms of that man felt like he had been stabbed in the heart – what he had sought from you, you had freely given to another: that fact alone is enough to make his Endless blood boil. He then remembers he has a nightmare he’s about to finish – it could be time he assigned that nightmare to torment only the human specifically?
Shaking himself from his train of thought, he remembers what he came here for – torturing the man can wait. He taps the glass-like barrier you had encased those abhorrent memories in.
Admittedly, he had thought of doing this himself just so you could forget your love for the cursed Chapman, but it seems like you had beaten him to it. You had apparently done this yourself subconsciously, likely in order to shield yourself from further trauma. Your own subconscious has declared that memories of your love for that mortal were a danger to your wellbeing, to which he agrees enthusiastically. He sneers slightly in mild amusement: he had powers that now could rival the Morningstar himself, so he could simply shatter the barrier without breaking a sweat. But, why would he?
He had, at last, gotten rid of his rival to your heart, and he didn’t even have to lift a finger.
Satisfied with this development, he ceases his connection to your mind and carries you to the bed, noting how you had turned so frail in your time here. He lays down on your side so he could cuddle you close and listen to your beating heart, which he knows one day will beat only for him.
Perhaps it’s time he takes you back to his castle. And if he plays his cards right, he would have you so grateful that he had finally come to your aid and you’d ultimately surrender to him fully, as he had always envisioned you would.
***
Morpheus wakes you up the next morning to deliver the news. He never tears his eyes away from the way your eyes slowly light up as the realization of freedom hits you, to the way you give him the warmest, most genuine smile he has ever seen from you since his capture. He tries not to be blinded by it, even as the smile is fully directed at him and no one else, like it always should.
“Allow me three days to ensure that you want for nothing in your return.”
Inwardly, he praises himself at the idea of making you wait a little more – he would build up your hope and excitement for your return, making you even more pliable to his wishes. He sees your smile falter a little at the mention of waiting, but what are three more days, when your King is at long last granting what you had so endearingly begged for?
He finds it difficult to keep his composure when you wrap your arms around him in a delicate hug – he just melts in it as he tightens the hug. He couldn’t help burying his face in the groove of your neck, inadvertently planting an innocent kiss. He allows himself a tiny smirk – everything is going according to his plan.
***
The ray of hope that filtered through the room in the form of your freedom was thin, but it was enough to brighten your room a little when your Dream Lord leaves for his duties. This was the only good news you’d ever heard since your imprisonment; you had not been able to stop yourself from impulsively hugging him at the height of your emotions.
It’s when he’s left, however, that the Voice makes known its opinion:
Don’t trust him.
This makes you wonder: is this promise of his another one of his cruel mind games? You know well enough of your master to tell that he can change his mind on a whim, and you realize he might just take it all back the moment he feels the slightest resistance from you.
But in all honesty, what else could you do, knowing he’s your only way out of this place? You release a heavy puff as you sit on the edge of the bed so you could compose yourself. If you could last the next three days being the demure subject and obeying your King’s bidding, he’d have no reason to go back on his word.
Either way you go, you’re screwed.
Thankfully for you, the next two days coasted by with nothing but your frazzled nerves to deal with. Your Dream King had been merciful enough to sense that you weren’t in the mood to sleep with him in any way, so he let you be, only holding you close to his chest as he waited for you to fall asleep. You had drowsily asked him a random question about how you hadn’t seen Jessamy; he had responded after a long pause about his beloved raven’s death at the hands of his captors. He had spoken with so much vulnerability, you actually caressed his face with your fingers to try and comfort him before drifting off. It was probably the only time he’d ever be vulnerable with you.
You watch the afternoon sun in the Dreaming slowly sink into the horizon, painting the sky and sea with a thousand shades of purples and oranges, signalling the kingdom’s passage to a starry night its King is partial to.
That means the monarch in question is about to arrive to spend his night with you in your prison cell.
***
Dream of the Endless appears on the balcony a little after the sun has fully set and the stars have begun glittering in the night sky. He finds you there, staring at the sea, and he watches you turn gracefully to acknowledge him, your silhouette standing out against the midnight blue sky. He feels his heart warm at the way you hold his gaze for a few moments – but then you turn away, breaking the spell. You’re still uneasy around him, it seems.
But, to him, it’s a simple fix: once he takes you back to his castle, he’ll never let you leave his side. You’ll have all the time in the universe to start warming up to him.
He approaches your side languidly, never speaking a word as he takes in the scenery, allowing only the hushed sounds of waves crashing against the rocky cliff to break the silence. This will probably be the last time in a long while that he’ll have you fully to himself – he knows other creatures of the Dreaming would take up your time, because who wouldn’t love their new princess-consort? – and so he just wants to savour this moment, and this night, with you.
Quietly, he looks up at the star-filled sky, fondly recalling a promise he had made to you in your sleep.
“A little more than a hundred years ago, I vowed that you’d fall asleep in my arms under the Dreaming stars.”
Morpheus turns to face you fully, and you do the same, perhaps out of habit, he muses, but you continue averting your eyes, looking at anything but him. This wouldn’t do, of course, so lifts your chin with a finger and, closing the distance between you, he kisses your soft lips, revelling in your taste. He feels your lips move against his, albeit shyly, but it doesn’t matter – it’s enough to fuel the fire stirring within him like only you could, and nothing else, no one else, could quell it for him. He cups your cheek and angles his head to deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to repeatedly slide over yours as you bashfully try to keep up.
But a passionate lip lock isn’t enough – it’s never enough for him – he wants you, he’s always wanted only you, and he wastes no time wrapping his arms around your figure as his sand transports you both to a portion of the island he had prepared for this night. He places both his hands on your waist to steady you before you break your footing as you both land on the seashore. Reluctant as he was to break your kiss, he pulls away so he could carry you, bridal style, to the bed that he had fashioned out of his sand just mere seconds ago. Unlike the bed in the tower, it had no upper panels, allowing for an unobstructed view of the Dreaming’s dark, starry canvas. He lays you down on the silky covers like you’re a porcelain doll he’s afraid to break, before shedding these troublesome clothes he had with a wordless command. He gets on the bed, his thighs on both sides of your hips straddling you. He leans closer to you, his lips stopping just a hairbreadth away from yours, and he speaks:
“You will find that I intend to be true to my word.”
He then sits up, intent on admiring the way look, splayed out underneath him so exquisitely; with your chest visibly heaving up and down in anticipation of his touches, and your hair fanning out to reveal that beauty of a face he crafted. He needs to see more of you, so much more, and yet he gives himself the joy of untying your belt, the only thing that holds your dress in place, with the gentleness akin to unwrapping a fragile gift. Slowly, he peels the dress off, baring that perfect body he so lovingly crafted – it’s all for him to see, to taste, to take, and he plans on reacquainting himself with every inch of you as if he had not already done so almost every night for the past month.
With his hands, he traces every part of you slowly, remembering how he poured his heart out when he crafted you. He begins with your lips, still red from the kiss you shared, to your neck, which he laments is still empty of his marks – he must do something about that, but not a moment too soon. His fingers find their way to your breasts, lazily brushing over your nipples as they perk under his touch. But then, when you start trembling underneath him, he glances at your face: he finds your eyes squeezed shut, with tears gathering at the corners – you were trying to conceal your sobs from him.
Why do you cry so, when all he means is to give you endless ecstasy? Could it be that you still longed for someone else, when he had made it explicitly clear that you belonged to him? Could you be thinking of that mortal? His jaw clenches with ire at the thought, but he reels that feeling in – he is aware of how you’re subconsciously repressing the memories you have of that man, so he needs to think rationally and focus on you.
Besides, there is no one else who can pleasure you the way he does.
“No more of your tears, my little dream. Do not fret: I will make you feel good.”
It matters not to him the way you shake your head in denial – he bends down to kiss your tears away, before moving to capture your lips. He needs you to feel just much you’re sending him on edge with longing, and so he marks you: your jaw, your neck, your collarbones – he covers them in no time with angry welts as he alternates between sucking and biting your flesh. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin, but he sets aside seeking his relief for later, knowing you need it more than him. When his mouth finds one of your breasts and his teeth graze your nipple, you arch your back to him and moan. He bites down even harder, emboldened by your response, and moves to the other breast and lavishes it with just as much attention. The hand that isn’t squeezing your breast traces downwards from your stomach down to the mound between your legs, and he hears you gasp audibly before panting. Gently, he massages your folds, taking delight in the way he makes you wet and start squirming in his grasp. He’s thirsty, and only your nectar could fill him – he places one final lick on your breasts before caressing his way down to your folds. He parts your thighs, admiring the way your opening glistens with wetness. He makes sure he never breaks eye contact with you as he lowers down and starts delving right in.
The moment he starts lapping your juices, you let out a breathy moan and lift your hips to meet his mouth. Grabbing one of your inner thighs to still you, he parts your folds using his tongue and starts flicking your nub with it. The way you cry out makes his cock twitch in anticipation – he’s painfully hard now, but he knows he needs to hold out for you. He intensifies your pleasure by inserting his middle finger into your tight opening. You jerk at the intrusion, but he holds you still while he sucks your clit, sliding his finger in and out and enjoying the way you shake beneath him. Once he adds a second finger inside, he feels you tug his hair harshly. He lets out a pleasured groan and picks up the pace he set with his fingers. He knows you’re close, so he lets his fingers brush over your spot as the continues to suck in your sweet nectar. In no time, your thighs start trembling as you cry your climax out, and like a starved man, he laps up everything you offer him. He then leans back just in time to see you come undone, gasping for air as you finish. He withdraws his fingers from you, coated in your arousal. He gently opens your mouth and issues a command to lick it clean. It stirs him up further, the way you look at him with innocence as you suck them with puckered lips. When he’s satisfied with your work, he takes your hand and places it on his throbbing erection.
“Can you not see the effect you have on me, my Mera? No one else can make me feel the way you do,” he purrs, guiding your fumbling hand up and down his shaft.
But, like always, he wants his undoing to be after you had found yours multiple times, and he prefers being inside you as he does, so he releases your hand and lowers himself closer to your body so he could breathe you in. He clasps his length and uses it to part your folds before positioning himself over your slick opening.
Dream releases a sigh of relief as he slides inside your velvety walls – inside you is where finds his home – and how he wishes he could stay within you forever. He enters you gradually, but it’s pure torture for him to wait as your strangled cries die down, when all he could think of is taking you wildly, so he breathes heavily as he rolls his hips ever-so-slightly to seek some form of comfort. You’re so tight around him, he couldn’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes him as your walls clamp around his length. He begins with slow, deliberate thrusts, while he watches you fist the sheets beneath you. He takes your arms and wraps them around himself so you could hold on to him. As he sets a sensual pace, he drowns out your sobbing with his mouth and runs his tongue over your lips, tasting your salty tears. He knows your tears will eventually turn to cries of pleasure, so he needs to be patient. He continues this laborious pace of his to draw out your little whimpers while he licks and sucks on your jawline and massages your breasts. Eventually, he feels you instinctively meet his hips, so his thrusts become harder and faster, and you reward him by digging your nails into his back and moaning louder. He would never tire of hearing you make such sweet music as he hits your spot over and over.
He then hooks your leg around his waist to deepen his thrusts – he grunts with every roll of your hips together, and for a time, your bodies move in perfect sync. Within minutes, your screams of pleasure fill the shore, and he knows he’s about to bring you over the edge – so he grasps your hips and finally starts taking you in the rhythm and force he had craved since the beginning. He lets loose as his thrusts become more unforgiving, and with a harsh snap of his hips, you come undone beneath him, your body quivering all over as your walls clench desperately around his cock. Right before his eyes is a vision of you he burns into his memory: your hair damp with sweat, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes close, mouth parted in desire as you scream obscenities into the night – you had never looked more ravishing in his eyes.
But he isn’t done with you yet, not by a stretch. He allows you to catch your breath, but only for a while – he then flips your positions over swiftly so you’re lying on top of him, careful not to pull out of you. He growls a command over your ears:
“Ride your King, dream of mine, and make yourself come.”
And like the obedient little dream you are, you sit up and start moving shyly on top of him, withdrawing from his cock and sinking back down. He watches intensely as you rock your hips, your breasts bouncing with every movement. He reaches up to cup one with his hand as his other digs into your waist so he could control your pace as he thrusts upward. You continue grinding into him until you come apart for the second time, throwing your head back so he could get a clear view of your neck and collarbones littered with his love bites. The sight is almost enough to bring him to the edge, he has to hold himself back, clenching his jaw and growling as your core tightens around his length – you, above him, screaming hoarsely in your passion, bathed from head to toe in the light of a billion stars: his ethereal goddess, his only lover, collapsing on top of him in full bliss.
Morpheus is done waiting, he decides. He slides from underneath you and helps you get on all fours, with your elbows propped for support. From behind you, he gets into position, lifting your hips further in the air, and sinks his throbbing cock inside you. His breath hitches at the way you readily take him in while you make a strangled noise at his intrusion. He senses that you’re close to being overstimulated by the way you try to wriggle away, but he grips your hips with bruising force to keep you in place.
He does not start right away – he just rolls his hips softly, even though it brought him endless torment, restraining himself like so. After a short while, he hears you whine and start pushing into him, but with a sadistic smirk, he holds your hips still.
“Please, my Lord…” he hears you beg beneath him.
Leaning over your ear, Dream whispers, “‘Please’ what, my dream? Use your words.”
“Get it over with, please, I can’t take it anymore,” comes your pained reply.
He just lets out a dark chuckle which makes you shiver. Oh, how he enjoys teasing you like so. “Those aren’t the right words.”
He hears you let out an indignant whimper, before letting out in an embarrassed whisper, “Please, just fuck me, my Lord, please…”
He need not be told twice.
“As my little dream wishes.”
With the force and speed only an Endless could muster, Morpheus ruts into you with wanton abandon, chasing after his own release. The way your core clamps around his cock as he pounds into you relentlessly makes him groan loudly into the night, while your hoarse moans and cries fill his ears, making for one sinful harmony. Not one to neglect you, he starts rubbing your clit, earning hoarse screams from you. He sets a pace you could no longer keep up with, so he tightens his grip on your hips as he pulls you towards him. He has only one thought as he focuses on the way his cock fully sinks into your body again and again: he will never take another lover in his lifetime, he will never want anyone else – he only burns for you, and he will continue to burn only for you even as the last star in the universe gives its last dying flicker.
He is close, and he can feel it; he starts losing his rhythm, his hips slamming into yours with strength that makes you buckle – as you climax beneath him, your walls clamp down on his cock with so much pressure, he loses control: with a roar that shakes the entire island and the ocean surrounding it, Dream’s orgasm hits him in shockwaves – time slows around him as he says your name over and over like a prayer to the goddess underneath him. He releases his seed and fills you up with it, while you clench and milk him for all he’s worth – he pumps inside you until he’s got nothing more to give, eventually stilling his movements, before you both collapse on the bed, with him rolling to the side, careful not to crush you.
Wasting no time, he pulls you close so you could listen to his heartbeat – will you pull away, like you always do? It always hurt him a little bit when do after you had shared such an intimate act, so when you stay limp in his arms, he holds you even closer, as he kisses you so softly, so deeply, letting his lips convey what he couldn’t with words. He then pulls away, sensing you were in no state to respond and strokes your cheeks while he watches your eyes flutter in exhaustion. You both listen to the gentle crashing of the waves on the shore under the starry night, the only witnesses to how he made love to you all night with an all-consuming passion.
Finally, he confesses into the night:
“I hold your heart so dearly, my Mera – would it be so much to ask of you to hold mine, too?”
But the only response he receives is your deep steady breathing, signalling you’d already fallen asleep. Nevertheless, his heart sings at his fulfilled promise. He has many more of them to carry out just for you, and you have nothing but an eternity ahead to open up to him.
***
The first thing that registers when you come to is the hollow pain in your lower abdomen. That had been a normal occurrence for you this past month since you had begun sharing your master's bed, especially from last night’s activities. You sit up, suddenly feeling a different set of sheets underneath you from the one you had slept in last night. You rub the sleep away from your eyes before looking around wildly, half-expecting you’d still be looking at the grey, stone-brick walls and grimy windows.
What greets you makes you jump out of bed and ignore the throbbing ache between your legs.
The room you woke up to is large and blindingly white, owing to the marble floors and walls and sunlight streaming from the windows spanning from the floor to the ceiling and the doors that open to an expansive balcony. You had slept and woken up to this a few times before and remember it clear as day.
You’re in your Dream Lord’s chambers.
You must have lost your mind at last, and you’re just hallucinating all of this, you think. This can’t be real, right? Could he really have brought you back, knowing how much you resisted him last night?
You wrap the silk sheets around your naked body and slowly saunter to the open balcony in disbelief.
But the scenery that unfolds before you do not vanish, as visions often do. With tears cascading down your cheeks, you stare with wonder at the beauty of the heart of the Dreaming like it’s your first time, finally convincing yourself that this is real thisisreal –
“My dream,” comes a deep, velvety voice from behind you.
Your creator, closing in on you, cups your tear-stained cheeks and gently plants a kiss on your forehead.
“You’re home.”
This confirmation is all it takes for you to burst into tears of unadulterated joy.
Do not trust him, is all the Voice says in your head.
***
“…I leave you in the expert hands of your headwaiter, Taramis. Thank you all for coming, and I’ll see you all at the party.”
With a final curtsy, you leave the parlour, mouthing thanks to Taramis, who gives you a little bow in response before his army of servers swarms the guests to take in their choice of refreshments.
It has been exactly six months since your Dream Lord has taken you back to his castle. He had since tasked Lucienne to train you officially for your new royal position, which you had of course passed with flying colours. Your master, ever with his fondness of theatrics and grand gestures, insisted that he host a party to celebrate your official ascent as his princess-consort. He had made it clear that day that there’d be no room for arguments, especially from you. So, today, the entire Dreaming is in a festive mood, with the entire palace staff, and in extension, you, running around like a headless chicken to greet and accommodate guests he had invited from different realms across the entire universe.
The day had not even started, and you already couldn’t wait for it to end.
He wouldn’t like it, of course, when he finds out you’d been helping, but it isn’t like there’s much of a choice: you had woken early, and when you saw that some of the guests had started arriving early, you had pleaded with Morwyn to help you dress and not tell a word about it to the Dream Lord, and ran down so you could help in welcoming them – goodness knows Lucienne is already swamped with work as she always is. And it wouldn’t hurt at all to leave a good first impression, right?
Great. You’re now simping for royalty you don’t even know.
After ensuring that the first batch of guests has been well taken care of, you had to let your master know that some of his guests have arrived, as it’s only polite for the Dream King to greet them himself, as the grand host.
You had received word from a frantic Lucienne that the King had an audience he attended to in his office in the library. You had found it odd that he’d be receiving company in an office he barely used, but then again, his oddities are by now, completely normal to you.
You reach the office in question, slightly surprised to find the door slightly ajar. Inside, you could hear your master in a seemingly tense conversation with someone sounding so vaguely familiar.
“…I let you retrieve it because I knew you were mourning, brother. But to go as far as to keep it to yourself and hide it from me? You can’t just keep doing as you please with it,” says the familiar voice, firm and chastising.
“And yet, I believe we had an understanding that you are not to touch it, most especially not in my presence, dear sister,” comes your Dream Lord’s much harsher, biting tone.
A heavy silence passes between the two, and not wanting to eavesdrop any further, albeit unintentionally, you knock on the door to make your presence known.
“Enter,” comes the terse command of your Dream Lord.
“I’m sorry to interrupt –” you start to say as you push the door wider, only to stop dead in your tracks.
Lady Death, with her kind, wide smile, brushes past her brother to approach you and hugs you warmly in greeting. You couldn’t hug back in your surprise, but she seems to think none of it. She pulls away, still with that comforting gaze of hers as she gives you an affectionate stroke on your cheek.
“I am so glad to have finally met you, Mera. My little brother has told me all about you.”
******************************
Author notes on the Chapter:
To the anon who sent an ask about Dream's POV, thank you for reminding me that I have been neglecting our dear Morphy's POV for quite some time now, so this smut in his POV is for you!! I hope I conveyed his thought processes properly!!
On a side note, two Endless??! What could possibly be going on?
Plot also keeps growing, I thought I had only up to 17 chapters for this fic, but now onto 19!! Who woulda thought lmao
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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: 1/14/22
Edit date: 1/15/22
Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!
Tagging the following:
@wt-fxck
@sandman-33
@reallystressedhoneybee
@akiraquote
@safe-teycar
@ponyboys-sunsets
@izzicle
@spygrrl99
@intothesoul
@thecrazytealady
@tastyinspection8860
@kittenssss-blog
@trinittyy
@mxacegrey
@saraicus
@blu3what
@justporple
@emy635
@chantzmar
@dawnissunnysideup
@esmeralda-tupi
@ggxsan
Genuinely sorry if I fail to add blog names that have requested to be part of this list, I forget (not as much as Mera, but hey)