#dark!morpheus x reader

Breakfast was surprisingly peaceful. After the kiss Dream had stolen in that hallway, he had kept his hands to himself and was seemingly content with watching you eat. And, boy, did you pack it in. You were never hungry while he kept you in your prison, but you had missed it so much that you abandoned all inhibition and ate almost everything within your reach. Fuck if he was observing every move you made – the food was unlike anything you've tasted, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Morpheus had escorted you by the hand to the library after, where you were formally introduced to Lucienne, his librarian, who was gracious enough to show you around. He had to leave you in her care while he went away for his duties, and with that, you couldn't be happier – any time away from him was a much-needed respite. Like a madman, you combed through the shelves for your parents' books once Lucienne explained that every dreamer to have existed had one that recorded their dreams. You came up empty-handed, however, so you decided to enlist her help.

"I'm afraid Lord Morpheus has forbidden you access to those books, my lady," she said, eyeing you empathically. "He has not divulged the reason, but it is likely to protect you."

Or likely to sever your connection to the Waking World even further.

You were put out by this, of course. You've been missing your parents terribly since you moved out, even more worried now that they probably realised you'd gone missing for who knows how long. But you weren't about to squander this rare instance of being out of your enclosure by moping. Instead, you found the softest, most comfortable couch in the library and continued reading The Wrongs of a Woman, determined to enjoy this new-found – and possibly short-lived – freedom. You had gone through four chapters, however, but you couldn't seem to concentrate, so you put down the book, thinking it deserved more than a half-hearted reading. You had a plethora of human knowledge at your disposal, and all you could think of was him.

He’d be more than pleased if he’d ever find out.

But Morpheus was away, so if you could learn more about him and his nature, maybe you’d be able to somehow use that to your advantage, eventually. Lucienne was happy to lead you to a rather thin, small leatherbound book that contained knowledge of the Endless, written by a man who was once immortal, which in turn, led you to discover that there were actual immortal humans roaming the earth, and some are friendly with them and the lesser gods. Was Professor Gadling one of them? It wouldn't be too far-fetched, given he had addressed Morpheus by his name and had referred to him as a friend. If you weren't in such distress caused by him, you'd probably be having an existential crisis.

Instead, you had a different crisis at hand, and one in the form of an Endless whose powers you have yet to fully comprehend. You didn't even sit down; right before the bookshelf you plucked the book from, you dug into it at once.

You discovered that there were seven Endless siblings – anthropomorphic personifications – who governed their own realms: Destiny in his garden, Death in her Sunless Lands, Desire in their Threshold and their twin, Despair in her grey Room of Mirrors, and their youngest, Delirium in her realm Formless Chaos. Your interest was piqued further once you got back to the part of Dream of the Endless. While it was rather sparse, the unknown author did his best to jot down the Endless' powers, including crafting dreams, fantasies, and nightmares, and manipulating reality to an extent. The Endless kept endless secrets, it seemed, which was a wonder that the author had that much to write about and put in a book. According to the book, Morpheus went by so many names throughout the passage of time.

"'The Prince of Stories,' huh…" you muttered to yourself. Maybe that was why he appreciated your writing.

"I'm quite flattered you are trying to get to know me, my beloved, but you could've just asked."

The amused voice made you turn on your heels, only to come face to face with the Endless himself looking down on you with a teasing grin merely inches away from you. You did your best to keep your cheeks from heating up at the closeness and stared at a spot on his collar instead.

"Sorry," you muttered. "It's just…it's a nice moniker."

 "Is it?" He dipped his head lower, hovering over your ears, and whispered languidly, "Then, would you allow this prince's mouth to carve stories on your skin?"

To prevent any thoughts of getting away, he placed his hands firmly on the shelf behind you and trapped you between his arms. You stood perfectly still, but you shivered visibly when one of his hands started stroking your spine and the laced ribbon at the back of your dress. Those lips then ghosted over your neck.

"We have been apart for not more than half a day and I already miss you," he whispered in the most dulcet of tones against your skin, leaving goosebumps all over your arm. "Surely you know how you have bewitched me, and I am nothing short of spellbound…"

Then he growled just as those lips touched your skin. You haven't done anything wrong!

"Forgive me, my beloved, I am being called somewhere else." He said as he pulled away. You could tell by his furrowed brows and curled lip that he was annoyed at the interruption. "You are to stay here in the library until I come and fetch you. I need not warn you: any attempt to escape is futile and will be dealt with harshly."

You managed to let out the breath you were holding in when he disappeared with his sand. You could see from the windows that the sky had darkened, immediately followed by a resounding clap of thunder. Despite his threat, you were extremely grateful to anyone and anything that called him at that very moment, even if that meant they would be facing an irate King in the process. Besides, where else did he think you'd escape to?

***

Dream had been fuming when he arrived at the disturbance. His foul mood had inadvertently summoned a thunderstorm that flooded the basements of half the townsfolk in the process, which exacerbated the issue he had been called for: a farmer had poured an entire vat of untested growth potion on a pumpkin patch, which grew at an alarming rate the moment the brew hit the soil. The heavy rains that the thunderstorm had brought made the plant even happier, which in turn started to produce elephant-sized pumpkins within seconds. Dream had to reel in his emotions to prevent these giant pumpkins from taking over fourteen acres of land, which took a great amount of his time. By the time the situation had been under control, Dream was soaking wet, positively irked, and achingly longing to be back with you. The farmer and the owner of the apothecary who had sold the potion had to endure quite an earful from him, and they deserved every venomous word of it, for taking his time away from you.

It was dark when Morpheus reappeared at the library. Had you gone off to sleep without him? The thought made his heart sink; he had not meant to threaten you just before he left, although he admittedly would punish you if you dared wander off with the intention of running away from him – he could not have that, of course. He scoured the library shelves for you, already fearing the worst, but just as his anger started resurfacing, he found a sight that immediately calmed his inner turmoil:

There you were, on a couch just beside the spot where he had left you earlier, fast asleep with a book spread on your chest.

You had waited for him.

Slowly he made his approach, careful not to rouse you, and softly kissed your forehead. He took the book from your grasp, surprised that it was the same book he had caught you reading. You were reading about him, and that elated him to no end, even if it was a little dampened at the fact that he found the book opened on the page about his golden-eyed, meddlesome little sibling. He tossed the book to the table, then proceeded to carry you like his bride (and he knows you will be, very soon) to his bedroom, and laid you on the soft silken sheets that covered his bed. You had not stirred the entire time, perhaps savouring the only soft surface you had laid on since your stay in his realm. He decided he liked the look of you laying on your side, curled up on his bed very much.

You needed to accept him soon so he could have you on it anytime he pleased.

On impulse, Morpheus went inside your head and combed through every single memory you had. He was only getting to know you further, just like what you did reading the book that contained knowledge of him. You were eventually going to be his wife, and what kind of husband would he be if he did not make an effort to familiarise himself with his future bride's innermost thoughts and desires?

Satisfied with what he witnessed, Dream sighed in relief as he gently laid down beside you. He was tired – of course, he needed to rest, and it was his bed. He craved warmth, too, and your body just happened to be a great source of it, so he drew closer to you, his chest touching your back, and snaked an arm from behind you, wrapping it around your sleeping form. He dared not close his eyes, for he feared you would tear away from him as soon as he did. There, he laid still, perfectly content, for hours.

There was nowhere else he would rather be.

***

The first thing you became aware of when you came to wasn't the softness of the bed you were laying on, but an unyielding arm around your waist and a firm body pressed snugly against your back, purring happily like a large cat.

He seemed to notice that you'd woken up too, for he started dragging his nose from your head to your hair and inhaling your scent deeply. Recognizing how precarious your situation was, you tried to even your breathing out and pretend you were still sleeping, silently praying to anyone who would listen that he buys the act and loses interest.

Then that damn hand moved slowly downwards, then started hiking up your dress all the way to your thighs.

No such luck.

Still, you had to try. You held up pretty well, even as he turned you on your back and proceeded to straddle your hips. You tried your best not to twitch while he gripped your chin to turn your head to the side and a hot tongue licked your cheek. You squirmed slightly just as his mouth found your pulse point and sucked your skin heavily. You whimpered a little while he dragged his hands all over your still-clothed body and you felt him shift slightly.

But you drew a line when you felt him part your legs and settle between them.

You opened your eyes with a startled yelp and flailed your arms wildly, hitting his chest, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, deep chuckling as he did so.

"I see you have decided to forgo the act, my little saviour. As impressive as it was, I could hear and feel your heartbeat. You could never fool me."

You look up to those intense, dark blue eyes and those lips, curled upward in a malicious grin. True enough, your heart was racing and your breathing had quickened, but you tried your hardest to wrench your hands from his grip. It didn't work.

"Please, g-get o-off me…" you started begging.

But Dream merely hummed as his body inched closer to yours. Your terror only amplified when you felt something hard brush over the mound between your legs. You were still clothed, thank goodness, but your dress had been dragged so far up your legs you could feel the cold air on your inner thighs. Egged on by how you reacted, his hips pushed further against you, and you watched his eyes shift into black for a split second before they became blue again.

Of course, the bastard was enjoying this.

As deeply disturbed as you were, you felt a hot wetness gush between your legs, and you started to ache the slightest. And judging by his widened smirk, he knew.

"Do you find me unattractive?" He asked.

"What?" You were a bit surprised by how casual his tone was. "No, of course, you're…aesthetically pleasing… "

"Then why do you refuse me so?"

"I just don't want to, okay?" You burst out. "I don't have to justify my choice, least of all to you. Now, please!"

Halting his movement altogether, he donned a look of contemplation. "Have you laid with anyone?"

A blush started creeping up your cheeks at his question, so you pointedly avoided his stare. "Why the hell would I tell you that?!"

He tutted and said, "My little saviour, this is an open conversation that lovers usually partake in prior to being intimate." He firmly gripped your chin to turn your head and force you to look at him, his expression now serious.

"Now I ask again: has anyone laid claim on you?"

You gave a small nod, next thing you knew was a firm hand around your throat, squeezing it just enough to make you start gasping for air.

"You lie." Dream's eyes were blazing and his teeth were bared in a furious snarl.

He was right – you had lied on impulse. To your defence, you did it only in the hopes of him being disgusted that you weren't as pure as he thought. The truth was, while you had the occasional fling here and there, none of them ever progressed to anything sexual. And he knew, for some reason. You couldn't get his hand off your throat, for he still had yours pinned above your head.

"Morpheus, please…" you choked.

He said through gritted teeth, "Lie to me again and I will personally torment every single one of your past flames with nightmares until their death."

Tears started to stream through your eyes, and it was getting more difficult to say a single word as you struggled to breathe.

"Please…I-I'm s-sorry…" you managed to let out.

You gulped greedily for air as soon as he eased the pressure, but his hand remained around your neck, and it was evident that he was still unappeased. You didn't give a damn, however; you were now crying in earnest and genuinely frightened of him even more so than the nightmare you'd seen him transform into.

"I know everything about you. I combed through every thought, every repressed memory, every dream and every nightmare."

Then, what was the point of asking, you thought. You could've said it aloud too, but you were far too scared out of your wits to even stop your tears from flowing freely.

He must've acknowledged your distress, for he slowly released your throat and gently wiped your cheek with his finger.

"I am already aware of your purity. I merely asked because I trusted you enough to tell me the truth, as lovers should," he said softly as he continued stroking your cheek, perhaps to ease your discomfort.

"Fuck you, we're not lovers," you summoned the courage to whisper as your sobs died down. Fear was overtaken by irrational anger – you were fed up with his bullshit. You looked him in the eye with all the disdain you could muster as you whispered, "You think I could love you when you keep torturing me just so you could have your way? I will never accept you."

And honestly, you didn't know what scared you more: the nightmarish being with madness contorted in its features, or the stoic, oddly-calm Nightmare King pinning you down with eyes you could no longer read.

"Still as obstinate as ever, I see."

In a swift move, he removed himself from you and vanished. Before you could relish the freedom, you sat up when you felt grains of sand cloud your vision, and your entire surroundings faded to black. Within seconds, there was nothing more you could see, and everything was enveloped in darkness, including the bed you were on.

You simply floated in the vast nothingness.

"Allow me to remind you, my little saviour: I am the King of Dreams, and you are my prisoner." Your captor's voice echoed all around you, sending waves of panic through every cell in your body. Even the darkness paled in comparison to the fear his voice instilled.

"I have been patient, yet you insist on defying me. Perhaps, a reminder is due. It is time I showed you torture."

Then began the fall.

You fell into the endless darkness, unable to scream nor break the descent. You fell at an increasingly faster pace into nothing, weightless, your heart racing and your skin being blasted by the cold. Just when you thought you were going to pass out, you land safely, feet-first, like the fall never happened, and in a place that looked so achingly familiar.

You were in your parents' kitchen.

You have not been in this kitchen in a long time, but it looked as similar as the day you left. It was a bittersweet farewell, that day, you, your mom and dad celebrating your new job and telling each other you'd call and visit whenever you can. On the fridge door, you recognized the drawings being held in place by those little vegetable magnets – you made them when you were little, and since then, they have refused to remove them. They've always been proud of you, they said, as you packed your bags to head for your apartment and live your own life the way you wanted it. You didn't know until then just how much you needed to hear it from them.

A pained sob interrupted your reminiscing. It came from the dining room, so you made your way inside, your footsteps not making a single sound on the hardwood floor.

"Mom? Dad?" You called out.

Your mom sat on the end of the dining table, hunched over and visibly shaking, as your dad sat opposite her and quietly held both her hands. Behind the both of them, hung on the wall, was this large abstract painting you didn't care much about as a child but have grown to like as a teen. It didn't escape your notice that the table was strewn over with papers. You picked one up against your better judgement.

It was a photo of you taken the night you took them out to dinner with your first paycheck. Right on top of your picture were the words, printed in large, bold letters:

'MISSING.'

You put it back down at once, not bothering to read the rest. You were back! Did they not hear you?

Your mom let out a wail that would break anyone's heart. Your dad stood to hold her in his arms. He too, had tears streaming down his face, trying to comfort his wife as he nursed his own grief.

"I-I just w-want my b-baby back," your mom cried out in between sobs as she held onto your dad as if her life depended on it. "My po-oor baby, my sweet little girl, I want her back, Harold. Please, God, bring her back to me…"

"I'm here, I'm back!" You said, louder this time. Perhaps they didn't hear you.

She buried her face in your dad's shirt, and he kissed the top of her head. It did nothing to soothe her.

"We will, Martha, I promise," your dad said softly. "If we have to sell the house to continue finding her, we will. I'll sell everything we have, we'll sleep in the car, it doesn't matter."

Your mom nodded her head and gulped before she replied "I just miss her so much…"

"I do, too, honey. Every damn day.”

“This is my fault. This is all my fault, I let her leave,” your mom rambled on. “I could’ve stopped her, but I didn’t. I failed her –” 

“No, you didn’t. If anything, it was my fault. But we will find her, and then we'll apologise, yes?" Your dad cupped our mom's cheeks and brought his forehead to hers. "We'll tell her every minute of every day just how much we miss her, and we'll never let her feel alone or unloved until our last breath, you hear me?"

Your mom managed a nod before she broke once more into agonised tears.

"But, I'm here!" You had tears streaming from your eyes as you screamed. They were falling apart without you, but you were back. You came back!

"I'm right fucking here!" You took a step forward so you could give them both a hug and assure them that you'll never leave their side again, but something in the painting behind them moved, making you halt your steps.

It was a pair of ocean-blue eyes that blinked, now staring into your soul, spanning the width of the entire painting – the last thing you see before the hardwood floor gave out beneath your feet and fell, once more, into the abyss.

You woke up with a start, sitting up almost at once, as you tried to calm your heart's incessant beating and relive the cause: it was a nightmare – one of many – of grief you couldn't understand, followed by an irrational fear of a pair of beautiful, ocean-blue eyes, before you were thrown into a pit of darkness with nothing to break your fall.

It was quite humorous in hindsight, given that you've lived many millennia in the most terrifying place in Creation, and one too, that countless souls dread ending up in the most. 

The crackling of Hellfire in your cramped enclosure proved almost comforting, even if it was always so close to licking your skin. It provided almost ample protection against the bitter cold that seemed to seep into your bones, but you have learned to live with the stark contrast both provided. Better than being thrown directly onto the mass of hideous, mangled writhing demons at the pit of Morningstar's court. The cold, you could live with; the torture and the screaming, maybe not so much.

You stood from the jagged surface of the cave just as you felt the air around you shift. It hadn't been caused by that dreadful demon that had just passed your door, but by a powerful presence you had not felt in aeons, and which you’d never thought you’d ever feel again.

True enough, it was him: he walked right before your enclosure adorned with those large, thorny branches trapping you in and sealing your fate:

“Kai’ckul?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes, even after he stopped in his tracks the moment you called for him out loud. You were breathing heavily, now, as you walked up to your barred entrance to get a better look at him.

“Dream Lord?” You called again.

You could not help the gasp you let out the moment he acknowledged your call and faced you. He had the same brown eyes that conveyed a thousand emotions in a single flash, those thick locks you had once caressed with your fingertips, those soft, full lips you had once kissed with all the passion your mortal heart could muster…

“It is you…” you said with awe in your voice. He was just as beautiful as the day he sent you to your eternal damnation.

“I greet you, Nada.” He responded softly with that velvety voice that had once whispered such amorous words in ears the night you both gave in to your earthly desires. Yet, today, it was sombre – melancholic, even. What could have brought him here after so long? Perhaps, you dared hope, he’d come to say he had changed his mind? Has he come to finally release you from your endless torment, like you have dreamed he would for countless cold nights in your prison cell?

“Kai’ckul,” you said, your voice and the tears that brimmed your eyes betraying that little bit of joy that blossomed from seeing him again. Your beautiful king. “How I have prayed for this day. I knew you would come.”

With a doleful expression, he stated, “It pains me to see you like this.”

Does it? “Then, free me, Lord.” Your tears finally fell down your cheeks. All those words you had imagined yourself saying to him, some of them hurtful, some of them outright offensive — all of them erased by the weariness of carrying out his righteous punishment. “Only your forgiveness can free me.”

But he had no response, only a tightening of those lips, his eyes growing more guarded and unyielding.

“Do you not still love me?” You asked. Perhaps if he still did, he would be merciful?

"It has been ten thousand years, Nada."

Yes, it has been. An awfully, excruciatingly long time and a reminder wasn't needed.

"Yes, I still love you."

Hope blossomed in your heart at his words, but it was just as soon dampened by his next.

"But I have not yet forgiven you."

You looked away just as more tears started to flow. Even after those years, his heart was as cold and unrelenting as ever. Yours, however, remained steadfast, despite the continuous onslaught of coldness and hostility he and this place had for you, there was something else that helped keep your sanity and dignity intact.

He began to walk away and commanded his raven to follow. Your grip on your prison bars tightened as you called after him.

"Kai'ckul, I will not give up hope."

But he had gone too far away for you to hear his footfalls.

"I will never give up!" But was that meant for him or for you?

Your voice broke at your statement, and so do the sobs. You sank into the chilly, uneven surface of your enclosure and hugged yourself, seeking some sort of comfort. Your heart refused to be crushed. Ten more millennia could pass, and you'd still have hope that one day, you will walk on soft, warm grass and breathe fresh, sulphur-free air, and you'd travel hand in hand with Death to ferry you to your peace. You'd forgive him wholeheartedly, should he seek it from you. You loved him.

So, how come the moment you closed your eyes to rest, only one foreign thought crossed your mind and reverberated in your heart?

You don't love him and you never will.

***

Dream never tore his onyx eyes away from you when the nightmares began.

He was admittedly livid. You had dared lie to him in the face and once again refused his advances; on top of that, you had dared insinuate that he had hurt you? He would not have it. He could never hurt you, much less torture you – but he also was not above showing you what could happen to you should you go on defying him like so.

He had not meant to show you Nada's predicament, truth be told. It was a last-minute decision, but he had not in his entire Endless life encountered such blatant, insulting refusal. The venomous words you had uttered to him on his bed would have garnered a far more agonising punishment than he had given his former lover, if it had not been for the fact that it was your kindness that had once helped save him from an aimless existence. Your words felt like a slap to his face, sure, but he knew you did not deserve such a cruel sentence.

By the end of the nightmare, you had been writhing on his bed, as if in pain, and crying profusely. You were muttering in your slumber, calling out for your parents in despair. He gradually allowed the effects of the nightmare to wane to let you breathe and he knew you were drifting in and out of sleep, even though you had not realised. 

"I'm sorry, Mom and Dad," he heard you whisper, half-awake, clutching the sheets beneath you and weeping softly. "I couldn't be a better daughter. I miss you guys so much. I wish I hadn't moved out so soon…if I stayed, I would still be with you and I wouldn't be here…"

Then you proceeded to toss to your side and curl into a foetal position, hugging your knees in want of comfort.

Dream's heart ached at the sight. How could it not? Despite your continued rejection of him, he truly loved you enough for him to feel your pain on a physical level. Deciding to put an end to your suffering, he approached your trembling body and planted a kiss on your head, and took away with him the effects of the potent nightmare he had given you. He had had enough, and the way your sobbing ceased and your breathing evened out gave him some sort of relief. He then replaced the nightmares with fond memories of your parents and even crafted a dream where you were once more back to your old job, writing what you pleased.

As he sat on the edge of the mattress and stroked your hair, his thoughts drifted to your parents. Although they had raised you the best they could, he could not help but criticise the way they initially pressured you into excellence the moment you showed potential. Not that he was a perfect parent, himself; his own son perished and he had a hand in it somehow. Loathe as he was to admit, your mother and father loved you with all their hearts and had been severely affected by your disappearance. He knew about their tireless efforts of trying to locate you, as futile as it may be. If you had been amenable to a proper courtship and accepted his initial offer, he would've introduced himself to them and formally asked them for your hand, but he brushed that thought aside. There was no point dwelling on what could have been.

You needed rest from the lingering effects of the nightmares. He had no regrets showing you that dream of your parents, even if he hated your reaction to it. Content with the punishment he gave you, he went off to work.

He had a proposal to plan, and a wayward sibling to visit.

***

You were still shaking slightly as you climbed the stairs leading to a balcony far up the castle, just like the note you had found on the nightstand instructed when you woke. It was an after-effect of the nightmares you had last night, you suspected. Your attendant, who was leading you to the designated meeting place, had even taken pity on you and allowed you to wear flats instead of the heels that the dress you were supposed to wear came with. Your legs almost gave way as soon as you arrived and saw him.

Your jailer and tormentor.

Dream of the Endless sat on a round table filled with an assortment of breakfast pastries in a basket, leaning comfortably on his straight-backed wrought-iron chair. His gaze was far away into the view the balcony provided, but his eyes shifted as soon as your attendant announced your arrival.

You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you sat on the only remaining chair, and you could feel those intense blues bore right into your soul. A memory of them blinking on an abstract painting made you shudder inwardly.

"Eat, my beloved," he commanded. "We are to discuss an important matter when you finish."

Your attendant poured coffee into your cup and promptly placed herself inconspicuously on the corner, likely anticipating the needs of her king. Wordlessly, you picked up your cutlery and began to eat, even if you had absolutely no appetite. You picked a danish, purposefully avoiding the baguette on the basket and even giving it a glare like it was its fault you landed in this predicament. Instead tried to enjoy the coffee, which admittedly, was a thousand times better than any coffee you had ever tasted in the Waking. He watched you the entire time, his kingly posture only shifting once you put down your knife and fork and pushed your plate away. 

On cue, the attendant took the plates and the bread basket away, leaving your cup of coffee, and disappeared for good. You waited with bated breath for whatever he had to say.

"Next time you wish to cry 'torture,' remember that I have been nothing but gracious and merciful despite your continued defiance."

Ah, so he was still bitter about what you said last night.

"Nada." You blurted out, totally unprompted. Morpheus narrowed his eyes a little at the mention of the name.

"What about her?"

You squirmed in your seat at his biting tone. But he was the one who showed you the dream – you had the right to know.

"What did you do to her?"

"What I refuse to do with you: sentence you to Hell for defying me."

Curt as his response was, it chilled you to the bone. He sent a woman to that horrible place just because she rejected him? 

"And my parents?" Your voice almost broke at the question, as memories of them grieving over your disappearance flooded your mind. "Why would you show me all of that?"

"I take it you miss your parents."

"Was that dream real?" You asked, your voice solemn. "Did it…did it really happen?"

"Yes."

They were losing the house just so they could keep searching for you. The thought of them homeless, sleeping on the streets in the bitter cold, made tears gather at the corner of your eyes and spill. You couldn't control them any longer, because you knew, no matter what they did, they would never find you.

"Their determination to find their beloved daughter is admirable. It is such a pity their search is futile,"  he said, mirroring your thoughts.

Amidst your tears, you shot him a reproachful look at the way he rubbed your mother and father's predicament on your face. You quietly wiped them away with your knuckles as you watched a ghost of a grin appear on his lips.

Jackass.

"Which is why I have decided to release you back into the Waking World."

His words made you stare at him in disbelief. It couldn’t be, perhaps you misheard him.

“I will allow your return to the Waking, to your parents, and to your old life,” he repeated, perhaps for your sake.

You blinked at him, twice, to make sure you weren't hearing things. He made no move to correct his words, but knowing him, anything he offered you came at a price that could very well cost you your soul.

"Why would you do that?" You asked slowly.

His smile grew to a smirk – this was an offer you already knew you wouldn't like. He straightened his posture and spoke with all the authority a king such as him could possess.

"Because you will marry me," he said with conviction. "You and I will be wed and you will wear a ring to symbolise your devotion to me as my wife and my queen. If you submit to me fully – heart, body and soul – on the night of our wedding, I will arrange a new life for you: one where you live your old life in the Waking World during the day, and come home to me and fulfil your duties to me as my wife, and to my Kingdom as its queen, during the night."

Surely your brain has short-circuited – you gaped at him openly in your shock. He seemed to grow amused with your expression by the glint in his eyes, but you could also tell he was dead serious.

"Something I said, little saviour?"

You opened your mouth to speak, thinking you could easily say 'Yes, go fuck yourself, thank you very much,' but instead, you ended up with, "You're letting me go, seriously?"

He nodded once and firmly responded, "If you become my wife in every sense of the word, yes."

Realising you still had a bit of coffee in your cup, you downed the tepid liquid all in one gulp. You couldn't help but wonder if it was proper to ask for something a little stronger.

 "But, how would that work?" You then asked, choosing your words carefully. "I'd be married to you, but then you'll let me go? I find that too good to be true."

"You will simply divide your time between my realm and the Waking."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will, my beloved," he said, his tone growing more amused with your increasingly suspicious expression. "But I assure you, it will not be any different compared to merely sleeping and waking."

You leaned back against your chair to stare at the blue sky and contemplate. He clearly has put a lot of thought into his offer, but there were other factors that needed to be addressed.

"I can't be a queen. I don't know anything about being one! I'm just a human, I have no royal blood, I have no training –"

He interrupted your rambling with an impatient flick of his hand. "Your stature matters not to me. You already possess the heart of a queen in my eyes. There is no one else I find more worthy."

He meant it as a compliment, but even that didn't ease your worries. "What would I tell them when I get back? I can't just go missing and then reappear as if nothing happened…"

You imagined there would be so many questions from so many people; where you've gone, why you left, how you got back – all of them posed challenging to formulate believable responses to.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow at you. "You have read the book, have you not? I can manipulate reality to an extent. I can make it so as if you never left the Waking. Your disappearance will seem but a nightmare to them, and one that they shall forget in time, as they do most dreams."

"And that is if…I willingly marry you."

Once more, he nodded. "I will, however, require nothing but complete surrender." This time, he leaned forward and placed his clasped hands on the table, continuing, "And, know this, my beloved: if there is but a small amount of unwillingness in your heart, I would know, and everything I offered will be forfeited. As such, you shall stay in my realm forever and will never be allowed to set foot in the Waking."

This made you raise your eyebrow back at him. He's really not leaving anything to chance. "What if I decline your offer?"

Surprisingly, he was rather nonchalant about it. He tilted his head slightly and said, "It is of no consequence to me, but you leave your world wanting of your presence. I, in turn, shall simply continue our…unconventional courtship."

You had no response to that. Everything he has so far offered you has been to his advantage, leaving you very much the disadvantaged party. Damned if you said yes, damned anyway if you didn't. You stared blankly at nothing, chewing the insides of your cheek in indecision. He must've taken pity on you, for he decided to break the silence.

"You need time to consider my proposal, I understand. I will leave you to it. I have duties to attend to for the day. In the meantime, you are free to roam the palace grounds. You need only seek me should you come to a decision."

He stood from his chair, straightening his coat, and approached your side. He bent down so he could whisper somberly close to your ear.

"Mind this, my beloved: the longer you tarry, the longer your parents suffer your absence."

You were about to come up with something to retort, but instead, you caught a mouthful of sand. He had disappeared, off to fuck-knows-where, and left you alone to make an important decision. Once you coughed out the last of the sand, you rubbed your face with your hand and groaned in frustration.

Returning to your parents, and to your old life, in exchange for marriage to none other than your captor. You’d be forever bound to him as his wife, and while you’d continue living the charade that would be your life back in the waking, you’d come to him by nightfall and he’d do with you as he pleased. And even if you refused his offer, he’d also likely do with you as he pleased. Every day, you’d pretend as if all was well in your world while being slapped repeatedly with a reality involving a husband that just might send you to the fiery pits on a mere whim.

If you refused, your mother and father would continue their fruitless search, ruining their lives and breaking their hearts forever in the process. They’d blame themselves for your disappearance until the end, unaware of your fate that this cosmic being has selfishly tied with his.

You fought the urge to vomit what little breakfast you ate with one thing on your mind: did he ever really give you a choice?

***

It was sundown in the Dreaming when you arrived before the massive doors of Dream’s throne room.

You’d been sauntering about aimlessly in his castle, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, until you reached these doors. On a regular day, your parents would be having tea at this time, your dad probably reading the paper for the fifth time, and your mom probably playing a jewel-matching game on her phone. Idle, comfortable, safe. You hoped they’d still be doing the same, but that would be wishful thinking.

That was precisely why you had made up your mind.

The doors opened without your prompting, which you took as a sign to step forward, heading straight to that tall, all-black-clad king standing at the foot of the stairs leading to his throne.

He had been waiting for you.

His eyes were burning in anticipation as soon as you got close enough to see. And those same eyes glowed with the stars it held, utterly victorious as you said ‘yes.’

Better you suffered forever than your own mother and father.

“What happens now?” you asked solemnly, trying not to feel thoroughly defeated. Morpheus approached you with an air of perverse delight as his eyes twinkled.

“I believe we are to be wed.”

Your heart began to beat faster at the realisation. “What, like, now?”

“Yes, my beloved,” he dipped his head closer to yours as he breathed, his eyes half-lidded and focused only on you. “At this very moment, we can be wed, right here. We need only utter our vows to each other, as husband and wife, and a witness, to make it official.”

Trying not to panic and failing hard, you stammered, “W-wait, I thought there were preparations, like an officiator – “

“We have no need for an officiator,” he interrupted. “I answer to no authority but my own. Matthew,” he called the name louder, and the sound of flapping wings echoed in the throne room, followed by a raven landing on the floor before the both of you.

“You called, sir?”

You blinked twice to make sure that you hadn't gone mad. Did Matthew the Raven just speak?

“Call for Lucienne,” he told Matthew, like a talking raven was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it was; you were in the Dreaming, after all, where anything is possible, including marriage to a cosmic being that ripped you from a life that you belatedly realised you actually liked. “Tell her it is for an urgent matter.”

"I know you," you addressed the raven, whose attention immediately was on you. "You pecked at my gla – "

"My beloved, this is Matthew, my raven," Dream cut you off again, this time, with just a little hint of impatience in his voice. Dream curtly introduced you to the raven, who promptly ruffled his feathers and dipped his head at you in a polite bow. "Formal introductions can be made later. Go, Matthew."

"On my way, boss. Nice to meet you, my lady, and congratulations!" Matthew once again bowed at the both of you, and you watched him as he took flight and disappeared.

A cold hand laced around yours, and you turned to see him bring it close to his lips to kiss your knuckles, all while staring intensely into your eyes. Like ice-cold water being splashed right in your face, it hit you: this cold, cruel, hungry eldritch nightmare was going to be your husband pretty soon.

Maybe you could run fast, and maybe when you do you'd run into a portal that'll take you back to your world and he won't be able to catch you…

But the pained faces of your parents stopped you from taking your hand away and heading for the hills.

The doors swung open, revealing Lucienne, who strode to her king with a worried look on her face. She sent a curious look at your still-linked hands before addressing her king.

"My lord, is something the matter?"

"Nothing so worrying, Lucienne," he replied in a lilting tone. "I called to ask you this: will you, and in addition, Matthew, grant us this honour of bearing witness to our vows of marriage?"

Lucienne's expression changed from worry to surprise, adjusting her glasses as she clarified, "Sir? You're getting married? Right now? I mean, congratulations are in order, and to you, and my lady," she dipped her head in a small bow at you, which you returned with a shy grimace. "But may I ask why you would settle for such a humble ceremony? Shouldn't there be a feast, a gathering of representatives from all the other realms?"

Morpheus made a point of using your hand to pull you closer to his side with a grin. "Make no mistake, Lucienne: I will not deny my kingdom, and all the realms in the universe, the honour of celebrating the new and rightful queen of the Dreaming, but the festivities are of lesser priority. Now, I have a beautiful bride before me." He turned to face you, lightly caressing your cheek with his fingers as he continued, "I loathe to keep her waiting."

Perhaps touched at his loving declaration, Lucienne placed her palm on her chest and smiled fondly at the display. "Of course, my lord. It would be the greatest honour."

"Yeah, boss, go get her!" Matthew cheered from the top of the arches in the ceiling.

Oh, he's almost got you, alright.

"Very well. We shall begin." He declared with finality. His eyes glowed silver for a split-second, just as you felt the clothes on your body shift: you peeked down to see that he had dressed you in a sleeveless, all-white satin gown hugging your every curve, tied at either shoulder with only a satin ribbon. By the way scanned your figure and nodded to himself appreciatively, you could tell he liked how it looked on you. Maybe he fancied how pure you looked in it.

When he's done with you, would you still be?

Morpheus clasped both your hands in his, his eyes solely on yours, as he kissed your left hand and whispered your name against it.

"Will you take me, Dream of the Endless, as your eternal husband? Do you pledge your trust, your devotion, your heart, and your soul to me?"

Do it for Mom and Dad, you repeated in your head over and over.

"I do," you responded faintly.

The throne room is dead silent, as both your witnesses seemed to be holding their breaths just as you were, but the eyes of your almost-husband screamed triumphantly as he released your hands and waved a finger. A silver ring, adorned with a ruby, appeared floating in your midst, which he then plucked from mid-air.

"Then you shall take this ring," he went on, as placed the ring on your finger. The jewel's blood-red colour faded to white the moment it touched your skin. "A symbol of my endless vow: that to you, I offer protection, loyalty, and love, until I am Endless no more. From this day forth, I claim you as my wife, and we are bound together until the end of days."

The ring now rested ominously on your finger, without a trace of red, and was the heaviest piece of jewellery you had ever worn. It felt as if it was burning your skin, even though it gave off no heat. It made you want to scream and tear your hair out.

Your husband's eyes now bore on yours with a dark, jubilant look, just as sinister as the ring he just used to bind you to him for eternity. An impatient-sounding squawk from above alerted you both to your witnesses' presence. Morpheus smirked in amusement despite the interruption.

"Matthew, would you care to do the honours?"

"Hell yeah!" Came his raven's response. "You may now kiss the bride, boss!"

As soon as the words were said, he cupped your cheeks and placed his lips on yours. It was soft, short, even loving, by normal human wedding standards, and then he let go, and proclaimed to the entire realm:

"We are now officially husband and wife, my precious little saviour."

He brought his forehead to yours, ignoring the way your lip trembled at his statement.

"I have been wanting this for so long."

The sound of clapping, wings flapping and cheering echoed in the throne room, just as his sand wrapped around your figure and took you somewhere hauntingly familiar. The sight of that massive bed in the dark, covered in silk midnight sheets, was enough to send your heartbeat soaring through the roof.

There was only one reason he could've brought you here.

You let out a startled gasp as a pair of cold hands fell on your shoulders. You turned around and backed as far away from the bed as you could, to find Morpheus standing where you were seconds ago, clad in a different, shorter robe with a tie around his waist. He seemed to have nothing else underneath.

"Have I startled you, my beloved wife?" He asked softly, his eyes shining in the dark and his silhouette glowing in the moonlight from the open balcony. He held out a pale hand and said, "Come to your husband."

Aside from bunching the fabric of your dress near your thighs, you made no move whatsoever.

"Come to me this instant."

His low, commanding tone sent warning signals, darkening the atmosphere of the room even further. You took a few tentative steps to where he was, stopping only when he was at arm's length. He, however, closed the distance, dipped his head to yours, and whispered, "Kiss me."

Using a finger, he traced your jawline slowly, down to your neck, lingering at your shoulder where the ribbon of your dress was. His touch immediately gave you goosebumps.

"Please," you whispered shakily. You wanted to beg for him to stop, but his lips were on yours even before you could formulate the words.

The kisses you previously shared with him paled in comparison. This was different: it was as if he longed to suck the soul out of you. His tongue chased yours, and he nipped at your lower lip when you refused to respond. His hands were on your waist and the back of your neck, preventing you from pulling away. You couldn't make a sound except the whimpering from the back of your throat, yet he drowned it all out by syphoning the air out of you. With a final peck on your swollen lips, he pulled away. As he did, you got a full glimpse of his eyes: half-lidded, dark, wanting; it terrified you to no end. Then he threw you off with his next order:

"Disrobe me."

You took ragged breaths as your hands crept up to the knot around his waist, but you were shaking so much you couldn't do anything to it. He held your hands steady and guided you, and the knot came off in no time. He then brought them to his chest, where the robe was slipping – that, too, came off, and there he was, your husband, totally bared before you. Heat spread on your cheeks as you stared pointedly at that sculpted chest, refusing to look anywhere else.

Morpheus hummed lowly as he brought his lips to your ear.

"Have you ever worshipped an all-powerful being? Let me show you how. On your knees for me, my love." He gripped your shoulders and pushed down lightly to encourage you. Your stomach churned as soon as you realised what he wanted you to do.

"Morpheus, please…" you begged as you tried to get those hands off you, but he wasn't having it.

"I command you to kneel before your king and husband," he growled.

You could feel the tears surfacing as you did what you were told, so you closed your eyes so they wouldn't. You were, after all, doing this for the people you loved. You'd be free after this night is over.

"Eyes on me, my wife."

So you opened them to find yourself face to face with a huge, fully erect cock – his hand cupped your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as if he was trying to soothe you.

It did nothing of the sort.

So you pleaded with him again.

"Please, Dream…I can't do this, please," was all your shaky voice could muster. But you found no pity in his eyes; just overwhelming desire.

"Yes, you can. Open your mouth, love."

 The thumb that caressed your cheek made its way inside your mouth.

"You want your life back, yes?" He asked, as his thumb drew circles on your tongue. You nodded in response.

"Good." He smirked. "You will have to work for it. Now, I want my pretty wife's pretty little mouth wrapped around me."

So for the sake of your freedom, you swallowed that lump in your throat and allowed him to push his hard cock inside your mouth.

He tasted faintly sweet, faintly salty and musky. Above you, he groaned in satisfaction at the contact and bucked his hips to push his cock further. You closed your eyes, involuntary tears streaming down your face, as he reached your throat; he was too much, his size was more than what you could handle, and he wasn't even fully in.

A hand bunched your hair and tugged lightly.

"I said, eyes on me, wife," he commanded, his voice straining slightly in pleasure. "I want your full attention as I take your mouth."

So you looked up into those dark, lustful eyes, placed your hands on his thighs, and began to suck him off.

It was a slow pace at first, given you hadn't done anything like this before, but as you swirled your tongue around his thickness and felt it throb inside your mouth, something in you bubbled, making you rub your thighs together. He seemed to notice this, for his parted lips curled in a mischievous smile, and began to thrust forward as you bobbed your head downward to take him in.

"You're doing so well, my love…" he praised as you continued to suck and lick him.

Disgust filled you, but there was something else, too.

He was panting as he quicked his movements, and while he kept your head in place with both hands so he could take control of the pace, your eyes watered at his size and length. But, just as his cock throbbed more intensely and you felt him thicken inside your mouth, he pulled it out with a heavy groan, a trail of your saliva still connecting your tongue and its tip. He was probably close, too – not that you cared; you were thankful you didn't have to do it anymore.

Your husband helped you get to your feet, and he wiped the drool that coated your chin and the corners of your mouth. Just as you thought it was over, dread filled your heart once more as he whispered:

"Your mouth was a delight, my wife, but I would like my undoing to be inside you. Now, undress for me."

"Please, Morpheus, we don't have to do this," you tried to appeal. Of course, it was in vain.

"Our marriage isn't binding without proper consummation," he said, anger and impatience laced in his tone. "I will not ask again."

You could do nothing but choke back a sob as you hastily undid a ribbon on your dress, but his hand halted your fumbling. He looked down at you with a disapproving expression.

"Slowly, my love. I want to savour this."

So, like the obedient wife he wanted you to be, you pulled the ribbon inch by inch and undid the other side just as gradually. As soon as the ribbons unravelled, the satin dress pooled at your feet, taking away whatever protection you had left from his greedy eyes. You could hear the rumble from the back of Dream's throat as he hovered over your naked form. You were shivering from the cold Dreaming air coming from the open balcony, and from the way his eyes swept your body. Nobody has ever seen you so vulnerable.

A sob escaped from your lips, but it was completely ignored.

Pale fingers traced your body – he began on your collarbones, and made his way to your breasts, his thumb circling your nipples which pebbled at his touch. He then started stroking your waist while you continued to let your tears flow silently, before gripping your body and pulling it flush to his. You winced as you felt his erection press against your belly.

"Your beauty is staggering, my beloved," he praised.

The next thing you knew was your back hitting the soft sheets and him climbing above you.

You were in hysterics the moment you realised what was happening – you clawed at the chest that descended on your body and cried out in your despair, but strong hands grabbed your wrists and pinned them on your sides. You tilted your head so you could avoid seeing your husband's face, but in your blurry line of vision, all you could see was that damned ring on your finger, weighing you down as much as the torso sitting on top of you.

Morpheus brought his head closer with his breath fanning your exposed cheek, his ire palpable at your unacceptable behaviour.

"Remember our agreement, my little saviour. Or have you decided to eternally relinquish your life in the Waking and devote it all to me?"

You shook your head in denial, but the tears flowed freely. Gentle lips kissed them away, and you let them, as once more you were reminded what was at stake.

Just one night of this, and everything will be fine.

He pecked the corner of your lips before kissing you fully in the mouth, not caring that his cock was in it just a few moments ago. His hands roamed every part of your body he could reach. As his tongue lapped yours, he cupped your breasts and squeezed softly, and you moaned into his mouth and began kissing him back, albeit hesitantly. He pinched both your nipples at the same time, making you arch your back. It was mortifying, but damn, it felt good.

His heated, open-mouthed kisses moved to your jaw, then settled on your neck, finally biting and suckling your flesh – it hurt a little, but it was as if he longed to mark every part of you. Your skin crawled at the way his mouth moved downwards to your chest. You were breathing heavily now, both in terror and heightening desire. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan when his mouth began suckling your breast and biting the nipple. Heat surged to both your cheeks and between your thighs, and you began to feel this bizarre need for more friction down there.

Maybe this could work, just drowning in pleasure like this. Never mind who it was coming from.

With an agonising pace, that damned mouth travelled down your belly, to your bosom, and reached that aching flesh. He then spread your legs and nestled between them, his eyes darkening when he saw just how much he had aroused you.

"You see, my beloved?" He said with a soft chuckle. "You crave this as much as I do."

You were probably red in the face now, having never been exposed to anyone else like this in your life. You tilted your head and closed your eyes in your shame. You weren't supposed to want this.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, my wife. Your body belongs to me. It is only right that I get acquainted with it."

He started kissing and biting down your inner thighs, marking them as his possession, but before you could adjust to this new-found pleasure, his hot breath was on your wet flesh and that mouth of his feasted.

His tongue parted your folds and then sucked on your clit, and he did this over and over, while you lay there, sprawled for him, panting heavily and mewling, gripping the sheets beneath you. He didn't mind that you weren't shaved, he ate and drank from you like a starved man, and your thighs automatically clenched him to keep him there. You writhed and moaned while that devilish mouth lapped up everything you could offer, and you could actually feel the tension building up in you like a coil, wanting to be released…

But then pulled away, leaving you winded and bewildered, while he looked down on you with a smug expression and the corner of his lips still glistening with your arousal.

"How can someone so pure taste so sinful?" He purred as he wiped his lower lip with his thumb. "I need you now, my precious little saviour. I have waited long enough."

His look darkened, immense hunger overtaking his features, as he descended on you once more and positioned himself between your spread legs. In an instant, the haziness of the pleasure was replaced by sheer panic, but by the time you reacted, he already had your wrists pinned above your head with a hand while he pushed your thighs even further apart with the other.

You knew what was at stake, but your resolve was at its weakest.

"Morpheus, please, please," you began to cry again. "I'll do anything else, I beg you…"

"Sshh, my beloved wife, sshh," he comforted you in a hushed tone as he drew closer to kiss your face repeatedly. He went on further, donning a sympathetic look. "Do you know what your parents dream of night after night? You, safe in their arms, loved and happy and wanting nothing. Do you truly wish for that to remain but a dream to them?"

You were in far too much distress to respond, but in your heart, you knew leaving them like that in the Waking would be a greater pain than what you would endure for this night. So, with great effort, you willed your tears to cease, which he seemed to take as a sign. Shifting slightly above you, he took his raging erection in his hand, placed it over your clit and dragged it a few times through your folds, before the tip landed on your untouched entrance. Letting go of your wrists, he cupped your face tenderly, and started pushing it in.

Nothing, not even that soft touch and that gentle shushing, could have prepared you for the pain you felt at the way his cock tore through your opening. You were petrified and in so much pain, the tears clouded your vision. Breathing shallowly, you could feel him push further into you, and your walls strained to accommodate him. He was impossibly huge, hot and pulsating, and every second he spent inside you was pure agony.

"Morpheus, please," you begged, fisting the sheets beneath you for elusive relief. "Please, it h-hurts, I-I can't – "

Your words were cut off by a searing kiss and a tongue that delved into yours, drowning out your cries of pain. He drank in everything, including your tears, his teeth scraping your lips as he tasted everything. He pulled away from the kiss with a groan; he now filled you to the brim, taking a great amount of pleasure from the way you wrapped around him. He stretched you to your limits while you keened from the effort of adjusting to his size.

"My wife, my love, hush," he murmured against the crook of your neck, planting soft butterfly kisses on the places he hadn't yet marked. "After the pain, will come the pleasure."

Morpheus stayed still, his forehead nuzzling your cheek, giving you time for the pain to fade. He took your hands and wrapped them around his form. You couldn't help squeezing his shoulders as you tried to relax, which he didn't object to.

From within you, he started to move. You could feel the friction as he pulled his cock out almost completely before putting it back in. You hissed and moaned in discomfort, but he went on at a slow pace. It didn't take long before you realised that the foreign feeling of being filled repeatedly to the brim was beginning to feel quite pleasurable, but that was nothing compared to a thrust that hit a certain spot in your core that sent you reeling in its intensity. Morpheus, who seemed delighted at the rather loud sound you made, grinned against your cheek and pulled away slightly, hovering over you, and began hitting that sweet spot again and again.

You threw your head back into the pillow, lost in the pleasure he gave, moaning wantonly as he increased his pace and the force of his thrusts. It was further amplified when he gripped your hips and pulled you to him as he filled you over and over, and in no time, your body began moving in sync with his as you sought more of it. Your walls clenched and unclenched around his cock without your control, you could tell that it gave him as much pleasure as it did you, for he started groaning your name over and over.

Was it supposed to be this delicious?

Soon, your movements became more insistent, and his more relentless; every part of you fired up as the pleasure heightened. You dug your nails on his back and you could feel your pulse drumming in your ears as he pounded your core. You were clenching him harder now, your flesh clinging onto his cock like your life depended on it. 

With a harsh snap of his hips, you burst at the seams and unravelled; you came around his cock, screaming your husband's name, and all you could think of was his rock-hard cock forcefully hitting your sensitive walls. He too, came with a groan and your name on his lips, sending flashes of searing hot cum inside you and flooding your core with it. Your walls fluttered around the cock that was still shooting its load inside you, and your entire body shook as your orgasm took over every thought and every muscle.

It was pure bliss, and you soaked it all in.

It took a while for the high to fade, and a little longer for you to realise he was still on top of you, his cock was still hard and still inside you, and he was suckling the base of your neck and your shoulders. He's already left you bite marks all over your body, but even that wasn't enough for him, it seemed.

Resentment washed over you like cold water, but you didn't know whether it was for him or for yourself.

You let out a noise of complaint and used your palm to push at his chest. Perhaps he got the hint, for he pulled out and away from you with a final peck on your cheek. You rolled to your side as soon as he lifted off you, and your thighs inadvertently rubbed together. You were sore down there and so wet you didn't dare look, fearing you might lose your mind if you did.

Without warning, however, you were flipped to your stomach, with your husband pinning you down with his body draped all over you.

Against your ear, he whispered, "My beloved wife, you did so well. And you're going to take your husband again."

Terror welled in your heart. You were to have him inside you again, and you didn't know how much self-respect you were going to end up with if you so much as let out another embarrassing sound out of your mouth.

"Please, we already did it once – !"

Your protest was interrupted as soon as he dipped his head to your neck and bit your flesh, and with one thrust, his cock was once again lodged inside you from behind, earning a squeal from you and a sob.

He was hurting you again, and it had no right to feel this good.

"And we shall do so again, and again," he growled against your skin. "Until I'm sated. After all, you have denied me of your body for so long…"

He began thrusting into you without waiting for your body to adjust. He was rougher, hungrier, and more voracious than ever before, and the air in the room felt heavier than when he first took you.

As powerless as he made you feel since his capture of you, it was all the more evident now, and yet all that came out of you were shameless, loud moans and incoherent babbling. He hit that sweet spot over and over again with so much force, your body couldn't keep up with his pace, you laid still underneath him and let him have you.

"You will never deny me again, is that understood?"

You couldn't respond with so much as a curse – the onslaught of pleasure as he ravaged you made it almost impossible, but the rumble on his chest told you he wasn't happy with being ignored.

"Is that understood, wife?" He asked impatiently.

"Yes," you managed to let out. "Yes, Morpheus…"

He hummed in satisfaction from behind you. "All mine, all mine," he murmured, and began a pace that made you curl your toes and cry out. From behind you, he pounded into you, while your throbbing core tried its best clamping on his cock to chase that intoxicating high.

"Oh god," you cried out.

This earned a sharp yank of your hair from him. You could feel his anger envelop you and hear him growl at the back of his throat.

"Wrong," he whispered vehemently against your ear. He pulled out of you, and you whined at the absence of him inside you. "I will not have you scream another's name while I pleasure you, wife. Now, amend your mistake, or shall I take away that lovely voice of yours? It would be a shame, not hearing the music you make while I'm – " you screamed as he put his cock back inside you without warning – "buried deep inside you…" 

Whether you angered him or not was of no consequence to you; the moment he continued ramming into your increasingly sensitive hole, you cried out his name, gripping the pillow in front of you with all your might just so you could take it. The ring on your finger was now completely ignored.

"Morpheus, I'm sorry, Morpheus…" you said repeatedly.

"Hmmm…that's my good girl, such an obedient wife…taking me so well…" he praised, holding your hips and bringing it to his.

His was unbridled lust, now making it known to you, and maybe even his entire realm, judging by how loud you were moaning.

"Please, please…" you begged. But for what? For him to stop? For him to go harder?

He chuckled behind you as his pace slowed down a little. "Does my little saviour want her release?"

You had tears streaming down your face in frustration. He was just torturing you at this point, but all you could do was nod as you tried to move to get more of that friction he provided. He tightened his grip on your hips to still you.

"Does my ravishing wife want her husband's seed dripping all over her thighs like the good wife she is?"

"Yes, Morpheus," you bawled. "I'm begging you, please…"

But he continued that infuriatingly controlled pace and made no move to speed it up. He whispered in your ear, "Say what you want, my little saviour and I shall give it."

"Please, Morpheus, make me come, please…"

"Good girl," he purred.

Morpheus happily obliged with your request. He rutted into you, making you throw your head back and move against him at his every thrust. He didn't like it, though; he gripped your hair again and smushed your face into the mattress, and lifted your hips in the air so he could get better access. His chambers were filled with your echoing screams and the rhythmic noise of sweaty slapping flesh trying to become one.

For him, this wasn't about making love anymore: this was primal, this was him marking you as his forever.

You were close – you could feel pleasure, so euphoric, thrumming within your body; your walls were now clenching him harder than ever, and every thrust of his sent jolts of electricity into your abdomen. So close, so close…

From behind you, he commanded, "Now, be a good wife and come for your husband."

And so you do; you came, so much harder than the first, screaming only your husband's name into the night. His thrusts became more erratic, his cock pulsed inside you, while your thighs quivered, your walls clamping down on him. With a thundering growl, he found his release, and sent ropes and ropes of his seed inside your walls, filling you up to the brim with it while you milked his cock for more. He whispered your name like a prayer against your hair, and bit down on your shoulder as he pumped the last of his cum within you.

It was ecstasy, dizzying and overwhelming.

As with all highs, however, came the lows, and for you, it couldn't get any lower: you were helpless, tired, and underneath a husband who was still inside you as you caught your breath and realised just how low you'd sunk. 

"My love, you were exceptional," he said with a kiss on your shoulder, right on the spot that he bit when he came. Just as he pulled out of you, you felt some of his spend leak out, so buried your face in the pillow in absolute shame.

You did this to get some of your life back, but even the reminder didn't make it any easier.

You felt the bed move, and your husband shifted beside you. 

"I am, however, nowhere near sated," he said with a smirk. "I am not done with you. Now, kindly get on your hands and knees for me, my good wife."

You could only whimper in protest at the way his insistent hand gave your ass cheek a good squeeze. He helped you get on all fours, then positioned himself behind you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit before plunging its entirety inside your aching walls with one forceful thrust.

Just this one night, you reminded yourself, then everything will be fine.

***

You were limp, sore, and exhausted beyond anything. After the seventh orgasm, you've lost count of how many more your husband had managed to force out of you, and your thighs were slick with the cum he had pumped inside you. Morpheus didn't seem to mind the mess you were making on his thighs as you sat on top of him with your legs spread to accommodate him and clung onto him with your arms around his neck, your aching body sprawled on his chest. The only thing anchoring you to your horrendous reality was the jolts of unwanted pleasure being sent into your core brought about by his ceaseless upwards thrusts, spreading all across your body and overstimulating all your nerve endings.

"One more for me, my beloved, you can take one more for your husband," he had kept saying.

When you orgasmed, it was rapture in almost every sense – you buried your face at the crook of his neck and blacked out for a few microseconds, only to be pulled back to consciousness by the warmth in your core courtesy of his spend inside you, and the mighty groan he let out as he, too, found his release. You actually cried softly in relief as he halted his movements.

It was over. It was over.

You thought you were going to end up sleeping in that position, but he rolled both of you over on the mattress and the pillows so gently, as if he had not just spent the entire night ruthlessly taking your virginity.

He manoeuvred you so you laid on top of him and you could hear him coo into your hair in a language that seemed familiar but you couldn't quite understand.

Whatever it was, it was oddly comforting, and along with being drained with every ounce of your energy, it was enough to lull you into sleep.

He didn't even have to use his sand.

***

You were jostled awake by fingers softly raking your hair.

As soon as your eyes opened, you were greeted warmly with ocean-blue eyes that held a multitude of galaxies. Despite waking up draped on top of a husband that you didn't really ask for, you had hope for the first time since he had spirited you to his realm. In just a few moments, you'd be back to work, just like nothing ever happened.

"Good morning, my precious little saviour," he greeted with a gentle smile.

Your lips moved, but it wasn't quite like the smile he had on. "H-hey," you greeted back as you placed your palm on his chest and pulled away as much as he allowed you to. "Uh, about our deal…"

"Hmm. What about it?" He asked idly, fluttering those enviably long eyelashes at you.

"I'm free now, right? You'll take me back to my world, and everything should be exactly as I left it."

You couldn't quite sit up, as he had his other arm around your back still trapping you to his naked body.

"Indeed," he hummed nonchalantly. "I gave you my word of returning you to the Waking in the condition that you give your heart to me fully and willingly."

You swallowed your nerves down, which were piqued for some reason. If he was playing around, he needed to quit it. Work started at nine, and you didn't really want to be late.

 "And I did," you insisted. "Now, keep your promise and let me go."

There was a palpable tension as he let go of you and allowed you to finally pull away. You changed your mind about sitting up, fearing you'd pull a muscle with all the strain your body took from last night's activities. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and faced you with a sombre expression.

"I'm afraid you did not fulfil the terms of our agreement, my beloved."

Did you see this coming from a mile away? You should've, said that nagging voice at the back of your head. What else could you have missed?

"Yes, I did," you countered, your voice faltering a little. You sat up abruptly, regretting it the moment you did. All your muscles screamed in protest, and you winced at the sudden pain between your legs. Ignoring it, you continued, "I did…I did everything you asked. You said you'd free me if I did… all of this."

"And I would have," he replied, tucking a strand of your messed-up hair behind your ears. "Had you offered yourself unto me entirely. The ring on your finger shows otherwise."

He took your hand that held the ring just as soon as your eyes were on it. The white in it seemed to swirl ominously, and you didn't like the way it seemed to respond to the man who gave it to you.

"The jewel on this ring detects your heart's pure desire," he explained, his finger tracing the stone. "It was partly imbibed by my sibling's power, and partly mine. My sibling, Desire, agreed to make the ring with me, signifying a truce between us and our realms."

He kissed the back of your hand before he released it, and you took it back and nursed it as if he just stung you.

He simply went on, "Should your heart submit to me in absolution, the jewel would burn blood crimson. Alas, it has not shifted colours the entire night you laid with me."

This wasn't happening. This must be some sort of ploy to get you to stay, right?

"Now, I do not mind in the slightest, my love," he droned on, ignoring the fact that you were now frozen in place and in disbelief. "I have an eternity to win you. But as far as our agreement is concerned, I cannot let you leave."

He lowered his timbre at the last part of his sentence for emphasis.

"So all of this was for nothing?" You asked blankly and gestured at the mess of sheets on his bed.

This can't be happening.

"My love, if it wasn't for you, my sibling and I would still be in a disagreement." He cupped your cheeks in praise, flashing you a proud look. "This was essentially your first act as queen: bringing peace between the Dreaming and The Threshold."

You snapped out of your dazed trance and swatted those hands away. You had a deal and damned if he won't fulfil his end of the bargain. He must be playing mind games with you – that was the only plausible explanation.

"Enough of your games, Morpheus," you spat out. "I married you, I slept with you. You gave me your word. I demand that you take me back to my place!"

But Morpheus merely raised his eyebrow at your outburst.

"I believe you are in no position to demand anything."

"You took everything from me!" You screamed, now fully realising the shithole you've just dug yourself into. You agreed to this, and he tricked you, using your vulnerability to his advantage. The worst part of it was, he had you played right from the get-go. "I have nothing left! I had nothing going for me but your word, and now…a-and now…"

All that frustration you had for him and yourself had to be released, and you did it the way you knew: you burst into tears.

Your mom and dad. They'd never see you again.

The nightmare that called himself your husband gathered your shaking form in his arms and whispered words that were supposed to comfort you, but you struggled against him and hit his chest repeatedly. He drew your face to his chest by wrapping his hand around your head and planted kisses on your hair.

"You planned this, you evil fucking cunt, you tricked me," you yelled against his chest. "You can't keep me in here…please let me go…"

"What kind of husband would I be if I let my own wife roam the Waking and live in a condition clearly beneath her royal status? No, such squalor does not befit you. You deserve to be worshipped, and I shall, my queen, until I cease to be."

"Morpheus," you tried to implore. "Please just let me go…"

But his grip on you never wavered. "I will never release you," he growled against your hair. "You belong to me for eternity. Now, I grow tired of this petty argument."

With a swift movement, he laid you on your back, climbed on top of you, and placed a hand on your throat.

A warning.

Even with tears blurring your vision, you saw his expression quite clearly. Wanton hunger and obsession took over his features, his eyes darkening and bleeding to black, just like they did when he first invaded your life with that confession you had rejected.

"You, however, my lovely wife, I will never tire of…" he whispered darkly. "Exhausted and bruised from our previous love-making, filled to the brim and dripping with my seed… just how you always should be."

You could only watch, helpless and unable to move in fear, as he pinned your wrists with one hand above your head. He slipped two fingers inside your still-sensitive walls without breaking eye contact, and withdrew it, donning on a satisfied smirk. You pleaded with him as he parted your legs with his knees, but even you knew your begging would fall on deaf ears. He had taken everything from you, and he was about to take more – with a single thrust, he was inside you again, and with a groan of pleasure he buried his face at the crook of your neck, whispering only one word again and again:

Mine. Mine. Mine.

With every last bit of hope leaving your exhausted body and mind, for the first time since he imprisoned you, you started believing him.

***

Morpheus was in a state of utter ecstasy.

First, his plan had worked. He was aware that you weren't in the right state of mind to fully give your heart to him, let alone make the change overnight, and the ring he sought from his sibling as reparation for their past falling out had worked spectacularly, allowing you to walk right into his well-laden trap. You had given him no choice – it was a necessary move to finally seal your fate with him for eternity.

Second, he had himself fully sheathed inside your heat, drawing out all the pleasure he could derive from your union, and you underneath him writhing in the throes of passion with your moans and cries echoing in his chambers.

Third, he just had a glimpse of the ring on your hand, that token of your devotion to him, and him alone, which began glowing in the lightest, most imperceptible shades of pink.

His joy amplified at the sight. He captured your lips with his as he thrust wildly into your throbbing flesh – you, the precious little mortal that inadvertently saved him with but a small act of kindness, was now in his arms, his, and you had nowhere else to go.

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

Wasn't too satisfied with the ending, but please let me know what you think! This may have been the filthiest smut I have ever written, even if I have written only a handful of them lol

Also, forgive me if there were any errors, I shall edit this as soon as I can!

Tagging:

@morpheuss1mp

@alexander-arcturus-black

@typical-bistander

@ladyredstar1991

@moonmaiden1996

When you were a kid, everybody around you seemed to think you got a great life ahead of you. You kept hearing them comment how bright you were, how talented, how lucky your parents were to have such a behaved, wonderful child - and for a time, it got to your head.

Until life proved you weren't really any of those things.

It started creeping in when you went away to college. You had a taste of freedom, of zero expectations, and a glimpse of a world suddenly leagues beyond yourself. It was one class at first, then another, until you started dropping out of every class and left college altogether.

Many therapy sessions, and a couple of therapists later, you found out what it was called: burnout. It just so happened it plagued you a little early in life.

In retrospect, perhaps you could've tried harder - if you had just snoozed your alarm off a little less; if you had just grit your teeth and stomached your way through a few more algebra periods instead of sitting alone in that little corner of the library, reading whatever, hidden from a world you barely knew - perhaps it all would've been different.

Perhaps, you wouldn't be stuck in this small, glass cage floating in a vast chasm, in a place you hadn't thought existed even in your wildest dreams.

It was a day like any other, you supposed: the day you met him. You had to go to work, to a desk job that you actually liked, writing for a local food magazine. You were quite good at it too - it's a skill you had when you were quite young and had not had a chance to cultivate until late. Sure, you were barely making ends meet and had very little time to spare, what with taking a certificate course at a nearby university and recently moving out of your parents' house to rent your own little apartment, but you were feeling optimistic for the first time in a long while. Your boss just let it slip the other day that you were due for a well-deserved promotion soon. It was a slow process, but you were finally on your way to getting your life back together. You had a future you looked forward to.

Having already established your morning routine, you were on your way early to the office and decided to stop for coffee at this corner bakeshop you had once featured in one of your articles. The smell of freshly baked bread distracted you from a mental draft you were making for an article due tonight, so on impulse, you asked the cashier for a plain butter croissant at the counter. You looked to your right where the pastries were to see whether you wanted something else (the danishes looked scrumptious). You opened your mouth to ask the other lady behind the bread counter for a cherry danish, but her attention was already on the man beside you, clad in a thick, woollen black coat, collar upturned, his chiselled jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly at the question the lady posed for him.

"Uh, sir? I asked what you'd like to have?"

He tilted his head imperceptibly and for a moment, you thought he couldn't speak, until he opened those pursed lips, and finally, came out the most velvety, alluring voice you've ever heard: "I'd like some bread, please."

"Well, we've got quite a lot of them," the lady replied slowly as if she was trying her best not to be snarky at the stranger. "Might I recommend the baguette? It's fresh out of the oven."

The man nodded curtly as the lady picked the steaming bread from the basket display using a pair of tongs and placed it inside a brown paper bag.

"That'll be one twenty-five, sir."

The man made no move to shuffle in his pockets for money. In fact, he stayed still, stiff as a board, staring at the lady behind the counter who was getting rather irritated at his dawdling, probably keeping her from attending to the growing line of other customers waiting to get their breakfast. Perhaps, he didn't have money? Perhaps, just like your first few weeks out of your parents' house, he was struggling and he had no one else to depend on?

"I-I'll pay for it."

You didn't know what it really was that compelled you to say it - maybe it was that draft you were itching to get to, maybe you found empathy in his situation, whatever it was - at that time, you had no regrets. Seemingly surprised by the gesture, the man in the black coat, with his dishevelled hair and his pale countenance, stared at you intensely through those long eyelashes of his, and for a few moments, you held his gaze.

His eyes. They were a nice shade of ocean blue. They were the most beautiful pair of eyes you had ever seen.

You would later discover they could bleed to depthless black - ruthless, vindictive, inhuman.

The cashier handed you your change and your croissant, effectively breaking the spell the stranger beside you had on you. The cherry danish all but ignored, you flashed the man a small smile and headed out of the bakeshop, going about your merry way to the office with nothing but that article in mind.

And for the next two weeks, you had already put the rather bizarre incident (man) behind you, having been assigned to another place to visit and write about.

The man, however, never forgot.

The place you had been assigned to, called the New Inn, actually belonged to a professor in your university. You've had quite a lot of fun in his classes, so this was a gig you were pretty excited about.

It was a little over five in the afternoon when you stepped inside Professor Gadling's pub. He was already there in the corner booth, grading several essays. He put them aside as you arrived and asked a waiter to bring you both coffee. You were in the process of bringing out your digital recorder for the interview when you heard a voice so familiar it sent shivers down your spine.

"Hob."

Completely taken by surprise, you dropped the recorder to the floor, and it landed just a few inches from a pair of black boots. You tried to reach for it, but a pale, bony hand picked it up and wordlessly handed it to you. You looked up, only to get lost in a pair of ocean-blue eyes focused entirely on you.

It was the stranger from the bakeshop.

You took the recorder, muttering a flustered 'thank you,' before Professor Gadling greeted him like an old friend. He then introduced you to the stranger, who oddly enough just stared at you the entire time.

"She's interviewing me for the pub. I'll be featured in a magazine, can you believe it?" Professor Gadling said to the stranger who stepped inside the booth, intending to take the empty seat directly across from you. Turning to you, he stated, "This is my friend -"

"You may call me Morpheus." The man interrupted, a ghost of a smile visible on his usually blank features. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

It was unnerving the way he held your gaze without blinking, but perhaps it was just your imagination - after all, you hadn't had anything to eat since that leftover Chinese noodles this morning.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” was all you could come up with.

You were grateful when the waiter arrived with two cups of coffee and a dessert platter, and the interview with the professor went well and without interruptions. You both had so much fun, you ended up having dinner and drinks at the pub, and while it struck you odd that your third, silent companion did not partake in any single morsel of the food, by the time the evening ended at half-past ten, you had enough material for your article and were in great spirits. You thanked him for being such a gracious host and politely bid your farewell, as you were anxious to get a headstart on the draft.

The three of you simultaneously got to your feet - Professor Gadling to walk you outside, and the odd man named Morpheus trailing behind.

"Do come by again, my dear, and good luck with the article. I know you'd do a fantastic job." The professor said as he waved farewell outside the pub. He turned to Morpheus, who stood just a few feet away, watching the interaction, and gestured to him inside - presumably for them to continue their conversation - but as soon as you waved goodbye, he made a beeline for you, stopping just a few inches away and towering over you.

Too close, you thought. Wait, were his eyes twinkling? It must’ve been the streetlamp, the lights outside were pretty dim.

"I would like to accompany you on your walk home."

His words threw you off because they were so unexpected. He had no reason to do so, after all. Shyly, you beamed at him and replied, "I'd appreciate it, Morpheus, but I wouldn't like to impose...weren't you meeting with the professor?"

Professor Gadling, who apparently was in earshot of your conversation, waved you away.

"No, it's fine, dear. Besides, a young lady such as yourself shouldn't be walking alone at night. I'll see you some other time, my friend," he added, winking at Morpheus, who just tilted his chin in reply.

The professor had a point. You lived nearby, that was true, but the streets weren't safe on a Friday night, especially at this hour. You chewed on the insides of your cheek, nervous at the fact that you have not had anyone walk you home in a long while.

It's just a walk home. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

"Okay."

You would come to regret your response.

***

Inwardly, Morpheus rejoiced at the thought of you lowering your guard with him. He motioned with a hand to let you lead the way, not that he needed it - in two weeks after your fateful encounter at the bakeshop he had gotten to know every little detail he needed to know about you, including where you lived, of course. He had seen the little apartment himself when you were out at work, and while it irked him that you had to live in such a humble abode, he knew through your dreams that you had filled the apartment with love and considered it your sanctuary. It wouldn't matter once he took you home to his kingdom as his lover - for you, he'd craft an entire palace carved in precious stones in the blink of an eye, and it would be your sanctuary, just as much as this tiny home.

He did a fine job, too, of luring you into the place his centuries-old friend now owned. It took him only one dream, planted during your boss’s deepest slumber, for you to get sent right where Morpheus wanted you to be. All this planning and you were right there, with him, just as the fates would have it.

He had to ask you tonight. He has waited long enough.

***

You were just a few blocks away from your apartment building when you finally gained the courage to break the awkward silence between you two.

"Thank you for walking me home," you said quietly as you eyed him sideways. Your eyes widened at the sight that greeted you: he had a genuine, warm smile on his face you'd never seen on him before, and if his demeanour is anything to go by, you knew this was a rarity.

He looked like a prince, even with his hair sticking out in all directions.

"It is I who should be thanking you for your kindness to me at that establishment," he spoke with conviction. "I have not forgotten."

Surprised, but overall glad that he remembered, you matched his expression as best you can and replied, "You're welcome."

Nothing was ever exchanged until you reached your apartment door, but he seemed to draw closer to you, your shoulders almost touching.

Your hand was already at the keys to the doorknob when you asked him if he wanted to come in.

"For tea, perhaps?" You added. "I couldn't help but notice you didn’t eat at dinner, so…”

It was a last-minute decision, seeing as he was kind enough to ensure you got home safely. He could do with a few biscuits, too, in your opinion, judging by his pallor and his refusal to eat anything at the pub.

There it was again - that captivating smile, but behind it, you see a flash of something else entirely. It was gone even before you could fully take it in, so you shrugged inwardly. The hallway’s lighting has always been too dark to see a damn thing.

“You need not concern yourself over me, I am much stronger than I look,” he said in a light, teasing tone. “However, your effort would be appreciated.”

“Oh, it’s no problem!” You waved him off and pushed the door open to your home. “I just hope you don’t mind tea without milk, I haven’t done any grocery shopping yet…”

Morpheus followed you inside, closing the door behind him, as you went off to your room to drop your bag on the bed and set up your laptop on your work desk. As soon as you got out of your room, you found him with his back to you, rummaging through the copies of the magazine you wrote for.

“Nothing interesting in those, I’m afraid. Still, not bad for a would-be writer, don’t you think?”

Chuckling to yourself, you made your way to the tiny kitchen to put the electric kettle to boil, then rummaged through the cupboards for a mug you were saving for when you had guests over. Not that you’ve ever had any - so far, he was the first you’ve had since you moved in.

“‘A would-be writer?’”

The proximity of his voice startled you, seeing as you thought he had still been reading back in the living room. It’s admittedly only a few steps away, but you hadn’t heard him approach. He was at the kitchen doorway, casting a long shadow in the dimly lit space. You had forgotten to turn the lights on, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

“You give yourself very little credit for such riveting work,” he said as he closed the distance between you. The kettle had just turned off by itself, so you concentrated on pouring the boiling water on the mug and dropping a Ceylon tea bag inside. Leaning on the tiled counter, you watched the tea leaves bleed into the water, turning it to a lovely amber colour.

“I don’t know about that -”

Your sentence was cut short as you felt his fingertips subtly stroke your elbow, giving you goosebumps all over your arm.

He’d gotten so close…

Scooping up the mug with both hands, you turn around to hand him the mug, only to find yourself inches away from him you almost spill the hot liquid on his woollen coat.

“Your writing has soul. I should know: I have read every word you have ever written.”

Blinking up at him, you saw him dip his head closer to yours as his pale, warm hands enclosed around yours, still holding the tea.

You were trembling, it seemed, but he stilled it.

“Th-thank you," you whispered, unable to avert your gaze from those piercing blue eyes that seemed to pin you to place, as was his tall, imposing form enclosing you between him and the kitchen counter. He was so close you could feel the heat emanating from him. "That means so much to me.”

Or was it the heat from your cheeks you felt?

Seemingly oblivious to your increasingly flustered state, Morpheus made a deliberate move to extricate the cup of tea from your grasp so he could set it back down behind you (it was probably already over-brewed, you thought), while you try to compose yourself and ignore his fingers softly grazing your knuckles. You didn't have much time, however, because the next thing you knew was those same hands cupping your cheeks and his soft lips brushing over yours in a chaste kiss that stole your breath completely.

You felt him release his hold on you, perhaps to observe your reaction. Perhaps, you could’ve pushed him away right there and then; screamed at him for touching you and thrown him out of your home; but you couldn’t summon your limbs to respond. He took your momentary lapse of judgement to crash his lips on yours once more - it was a more heated, more insistent kiss, and as if to seal you to him, his hands travelled to your back to encase you in an embrace and pushed you further into the counter.

This was wrong.

It was all your instincts could tell you. So you heeded them and pushed against the lapel of his coat with all your strength. It was like pushing against a wall, but you managed to wriggle free from his grasp, so you made an effort to put as much distance between you and him as your tiny kitchen would allow. You glanced immediately at his face to gauge his expression, and to your utter shock, his eyes had gone entirely black. One blink, and it was blue once more, maybe even a tad regretful.

It’s the lighting in this damn kitchen, you assured yourself.

“I understand I may have been too forward,” he began, “But I assure you, my intentions are pure. I have waited for this since our fateful meeting.” He took slow steps towards you, and unconsciously you backed away until your back hit the fridge. There was nowhere else to back into. He halted as soon as he sensed your guard up.

“Morpheus, it was just a loaf of bread, really…”

Morpheus’s eyes softened visibly at your words and simply continued, “And by that selfless act, you have saved me in more ways than you could ever understand. I have held you in my heart since, my precious little saviour.”

“I-I'm sure it's nothing...” you stammered.

“Allow me the honour of courting you, and in turn, you shall know of my gratitude, and my love, until the end of my days.”

Your heart sank at his declaration. Somehow, you knew in your heart he meant every word he said. You couldn’t have this, not when everything in your life was just starting to fall into place. You put on the kindest smile you could muster and spoke slowly as you chose the right words, hoping he wouldn’t be too downcast with what you were about to say to him.

“I'm sure you're a wonderful man, Morpheus. I just…I don't think I can make that commitment right now. I mean, I just met you, and all I know about you is that you’re Professor Gadling’s friend.”

“That can be rectified.”

You let out a sigh. This was going to be difficult, but you really didn’t like the idea of egging him on. “I know that, but…I don’t think I have time for that, you know?”

“How so?” he asked in a low voice, tilting his head slightly.

“It's been a struggle just to get to where I am today… I have my work, which I love, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I'm doing something right and…one wrong move could make me lose my footing. I’m sorry.”

Morpheus seemed unconvinced, taking a few steps forward to close that gap between you. “You need not worry yourself over such trivial matters. I know what you dream of. I can give you the recognition you deserve, the stability you crave and more… Come with me and I can show you.”

He offered an outstretched hand, urging you to take it. But if you were being honest, you just wanted to crawl into bed, the draft be damned. Exhaustion was starting to creep up on you.

“‘Come with you…?’ I'm sorry, please don't take this the wrong way, I'm sure you mean well…but-but-th-this isn't really a good time for this…” you stammered as you crossed your arms to make a point, which you hoped he’d finally take. “I think I'd like to be alone now, please. I-I have that…thing I want to finish, and it's getting late…I’m sorry, Morpheus. I really am.”

Morpheus’s hand lowered steadily, but all the softness he had in his expression was gone without a trace, replaced with cold, hard eyes and furrowed brows. The warmth you have loved your apartment for all but disappeared, replaced with a clammy air that seemed to come from…from him.

“You have no idea what you've just turned away…nor who I am, and what I can do,” came Morpheus’s voice, lowered to an unrecognisable timbre. “I will give you this final chance to amend your answer, my little saviour.”

“E-excuse me?” you said, fighting the urge to run away from him and hide. This was your home, you had no reason to. Who the hell was he to threaten you in your own home? “I'd like you to leave, please, or I'm calling the police…”

He was only a few feet away from you now, and the wind somehow grew stronger, you could feel its rough caress on your skin.

Sand.

The light in your kitchen turned on without a warning, and your eyes widened at the sight of the man you had so carelessly allowed into your home:

A dangerous man - now a being transforming right before you - with chilling black eyes, a heavy flurry of sand circling him, and waves of black smoke emanating from his growing form…

Paralyzed in utter fear, your heart pounding in your ears, all you could do was hold on to the fridge as you watched him approach your cowering form on the floor. Gone was that princely face you shared a gentle kiss with, replaced by a bony, skeletal mask with hollow cheekbones, his mouth contorted in a snarl that revealed razor-sharp fangs.

His voice echoed as he spoke, raspy and deafening:

“I am quite disappointed in you, my precious saviour. No matter: I am not unmerciful.” A pale hand, now with blackened, sharpened nails, made an appearance before you. “Take my hand, my beloved, and I shall forgive your error.”

In your terrified state, all you could muster was an adamant shake of your head.

This can’t be real. It couldn’t be.

“I’m dreaming, I'm-I’m dreaming this, this can’t be real, you’re no-not real…” hunched on the floor, hugging your legs, you muttered to yourself.

“Very well,” he thundered. “You have made your choice. ”

You would later discover just how real dreams could be, and that they weren’t that much different from the nightmares.

***

Morpheus released a small sigh as he watched you in your spherical compartment, deep in troubled slumber. He had not meant to frighten you that much with his nightmarish form. Admittedly, he could’ve done a much better job with reeling himself in, but the pain of your rejection felt to him like a thousand daggers being plunged into his heart. All he wanted was for you to be happy with him. He could’ve given you everything he had seen you dream of - he still could, but not before he heard from your sweet lips an admittance of your guilt, and a vow never to spurn him again. 

He held the tiny sphere that contained your form in his palm and drew it closer to his face to get a better look at you. He had fashioned you a dress that brought out the colour of your eyes and soul: you looked ravishing, even in imprisonment. In his mind, he had played the memory of the kiss you had shared with him in your home a thousand times over. You were intoxicating, and the thought of kissing you again and finally marking your skin cemented his decision of keeping you in this space he crafted in his kingdom. You needed time to consider his proposal, that was to be expected. He would allow you the time you needed. All he had to do was assure you of your safety and well-being, seeing as scaring you even further might prolong his wait.

He knew you would wake soon, and he would explain his actions when you do. You would have no reason to refuse him, then.

***

You woke with a start, rubbing the sleep off your eyes, just to sit up and think.

You had lost count of the number of days you had spent in your glass enclosure, and there was nothing much to do except to observe your surroundings - nothing but a vast space, where distant stars glittered in the black tapestry that was space, with a single source of light in sight, like the sun, only that it offered no warmth. That, and to ruminate on the events that led you to this situation.

You remembered when you first came to, locked in this glorified cage. You still thought you were dreaming then, so you did everything you could to try waking yourself up, only none of it worked. That was when he appeared.

Dream of the Endless, he had called himself. The King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm.

He claimed to rule the place he had taken you to, which he called the Dreaming. He had then explained that everything humanity (‘your kind,’ you recalled him saying) had ever dreamed of in its sleep was as real as everything it sees, hears, and feels in its waking hours and that he presided over them since the first living creature dreamed, and will do so until the end of all life.

He had revealed that he had watched over you, your dreams and your waking hours, since your first meeting, and that he had not meant to scare you, only that he wished for you to accept his advances.

That was the first of his many attempts to get you to say ‘yes.’

He would ask in many ways: a long walk in this garden he called the Fiddler’s Green; a sumptuous dinner in one of his many grand halls; an adventurous tryst in one of the humans’ dreams. He had promised that if you agreed to be courted by him and be with him, he would take you out of your enclosure and release you, allow you to roam his kingdom as his lover, forever wanting nothing and lavishing in all the riches and trinkets he could offer.

From then, you knew you would never be allowed back into the life you had worked so hard to build, humble as it may have been.

At first, your response to his attempts of coaxing you into a relationship with him was a string of incoherent curses and screaming. After a while, they were plain ignored - his face would remain blank every time, if not a tad disappointed, or hurt.

You didn’t care.

But you were also lying if you said it hadn’t worn out your resolve. This day was one of them.

You missed food. Not that you were ever hungry - he had removed hunger from you in your imprisonment. He had given you the gift of dreamless sleep as well, but in your time alone with nothing to do except wake and sleep, you’d give almost anything to have dreams again. You had no other company except him and the vast, endless space beyond your cage that he had conjured for you. You being sealed away from everything was driving you closer to insanity every day, and that was his design: to make you desperate enough to submit to his will.

Without warning, your hair stood at the back of your neck, your senses on high alert.

Dream of the Endless had arrived.

“My precious little saviour,” he greeted in that deep, velvety voice you had grown to hate and find comfort in at the same time. “I have come for you.”

Your captor had a warm smile on his regal features, one that didn’t match his true intentions. You stared at him with a blank expression and let his greeting go unanswered.

“Will you join me for a walk in my garden?”

He kept his eye contact with you as he waited for your response. It unnerved you to no end, the way he held your gaze with those ocean-blue eyes of his, knowing a single ‘no’ from you would instantly turn it to the black ones you have known to fear. When you opened your mouth to speak, it actually hurt your throat - you hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“Will you be locking me up again, after?”

He grinned at you and tilted his head slightly. “If you behave and do as I say, I will not.”

Only a single tear that escaped from your eye betrayed that gnawing feeling of defeat in your gut. Finally swallowing whatever pride you had left, you made a decision.

“Yes.”

You should never have bought him that damned loaf of bread.

***

Just a little one-shot I wanted to write to get myself out of a writing rut I've been stuck with wanting Comatose to be perfect it stressed me out too much :// I will still work on it, I promise! I just need to get this out the way to get my writing mojo back :D

PART II here!!!!

Thank you for reading!!!! Please engage and all that it's really appreciate iiiit

The grand dining hall of the Dreaming was empty, save the King of Dreams and you, his little plaything, the one he claimed to have caught his affections. Clearly, with this splendid display of all your favourite dishes, with the elaborate, ruby-coloured gown he said he fashioned from his own sand that you now wore, the miles and miles of red tulips he showed you during your walk with him on Fiddler's Green, he was trying to win you over.

Yet, despite the voracious appetite you had developed the moment you were free from your glass cage, here you were, toying with a slice of peach on your plate, very much not hungry and over all just about done with the way your jailer was unabashedly staring at you across from where he was sitting. The hungry looks you were getting from barely three feet away had absolutely nothing to do with food.

You tucked your fork neatly on the plate and pushed it away gently. Morpheus, who was leaning back on his dining chair like the king he was, tilted his head in concern. "Is there something the matter, my beloved? Is the food not to your liking?"

You gave a quick smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "The food was great, thank you. Is there, uh…" is there no end to this, you had meant to ask, but decided against it. "Is there anything more you'd like me to do?"

You didn't like the sly grin that followed your question.

"I can think of many things I'd like you to do," he said, his voice dipping dangerously lower.

Fidgeting in your seat, you fought the urge to glare at him, and instead looked daggers at the innocent, half-finished peach cake on your abandoned plate. “I’m just saying, it’s getting a bit late. Not that I had much to do anyway…” Your voice trailed off, your mind drifting off to simpler times: how, around five in the afternoon, you and a colleague would get some coffee from the bakeshop, then rush back to the office to finish wherever you left off; sometimes your boss would get a box of those fancy doughnuts delivered and all of you would share five minutes of the afternoon sugar rush and  bitching about the accounting department. Boring as it might’ve been in hindsight, right then and there, you would’ve given just about anything, including a limb, to be there instead of here as mere passing entertainment for an age-old nightmare lord.

Said nightmare lord leaned forward, still with that annoying smirk, and said, "We are in no rush, my love. The day is not over until I say so.”

When you offered no reply, he stood from his seat and approached your side, extending his hand.

"Come with me."

Taking a deep breath, you took his hand and allowed him to lead you away from the dining hall. Where to, you had no idea, and after several flights of wide, marble stairs you tried to pry your hand away, but he tightened his grip with a warning look in his eyes. Nowhere in the enormous palace did you see anyone else around, making you feel even more alone with him than ever before. After seemingly endless staircases, he pushed open a double door, revealing a massive, extravagant gallery of pristine marble and velvet tapestries. Hand in hand, albeit unwillingly, he led you to probably the largest balcony you’ve ever been, offering the most breathtaking sight you’ve ever seen in your life:

His kingdom in all its glory, basking in the orange-purple glow of the setting sun.

You sighed deeply, closed your eyes and let the glow of the sunset warm you up, pretending you were all alone in a five-star hotel enjoying the nicest vacation you've ever had.

Until you felt a pair of lips kiss your hand and ruined the fantasy.

Morpheus let go of your hand as you open your eyes in favour of wrapping his arms around your midriff from behind. Your back stiffened as he pulled you close to his chest and planted a soft kiss on your hair, just above your earlobe. You heard him hum in satisfaction as his forefinger lazily drew circles on your clothed waist.

“Morpheus, what are you doing…?” you whispered, your breath hitching as you felt him take an audible whiff of your hair.

"One of the many things I had in mind," he whispered.

You shivered at the rather vulnerable position you were in, but it wasn't like you could tear yourself away from his unwanted embrace. He had you trapped, just like the cage he'd be putting you back in if he senses just the slightest resistance from you, so you stood there, rigid as a board. You tried your best to concentrate on the view that lay before you, but it was made even more impossible with the way those lips brushed against your earlobe and then kissed the base of your neck.

“Please…stop…”

Morpheus only hummed in response. He’d been keeping you on your toes the entire day, but what he said next just floored you.

“Come lay with me, my beloved.”

“Wh-what? You mean, sleep with you?” You gathered strength to abruptly pull away from him in utter shock. He’s clearly lost his damn mind. Once free, you put enough distance between you and him and faced him with your cheeks flaring up. “I don't believe this…you can't be serious!”

Unfazed and clearly taking offence at the wide berth, he said, “Do you doubt my love for you? Have I not been clear with my intentions? I wish for you to be my lover. Do lovers not declare their devotion to each other by indulging in each other's flesh?”

“One. Date.” You said pointedly. “That was all we agreed upon. One fucking date!”

“That is why I am asking now. Will you lay with me?”

The audacity of this cosmic being had you reeling inside, close to tearing your hair out in absolute frustration. “This is crazy. I've done everything you've wanted me to do today, but you can't expect me to just go along with that!”

Still incensed, you watch him take a threatening step forward with hands clasped in front of him, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed slightly. “I am giving you a chance to recant your response. After all, I freed you from your enclosure in the condition that you will do as I ask.”

“You're fucking sick, you know that?” You backed away as much as the balcony railing allowed you to. “I'd rather rot in that glass cage than sleep with you. No way.”

Morpheus just scoffed at you, his hands unfurling to his side. “Pride. I once recall being held captive in a prison not unlike yours. I could've been freed much sooner had I not been proud.”

Your eyes slowly widened as you observed fine grains of sand trailing upwards to his curled fingers. You’ve learned to fear his sand over time. It was a source of his immense power, and judging by the way he melted your glass cage that morning into sand with a single wave of his hand, he was more than ready to create another he could put you into. But, amidst the growing terror in you as his power, something else he said caught your attention.

“You, however, are human, and I, an Endless. Would you last a hundred years like I did?” he asked, his eyes flashing silver in contrast with the last dying embers of the sun.

Your captor was once captured for a century. But who would do such a thing to him? Was this why, even as an otherworldly being, he was so messed up and acting like he is?

“You…you were imprisoned,” you said in a hushed tone, suddenly finding yourself unable to meet his eyes. “And for that long? Ho-how did you get out? Why would anyone do that? How does that happen to…someone like you? I mean no offence, I’m just…uh…”

“Being compassionate.”

It was the gentlest tone you’ve ever heard from Morpheus since after your rejection of him. Glancing up at him, you were surprised how soft his facial features had become. Despite the circumstance, you were mesmerised by the way his eyes glistened in blue and all the stars it held. His hands relaxed and the sand gradually receded until it faded to nothing. Could you perhaps persuade him to have a change of heart?

“You are concerned for me,” he said. "It is an admirable trait you cannot help but display, even in duress. Your heart is good. All the more reason for me to possess it."  His tone shifted, and in a split second, the galaxies in his eyes vanished, consumed by the pitch-black abyss that could destroy anything in its path. "My human captors paid a hefty price for their transgressions against me. I do not wish the same on you." 

It was then you knew that whatever happened to him in his capture, there was no saving him from it, there was no change possible in him. There was no hope for you.

“I have, not once, ‘transgressed’ against you, and you know it, you fucking cu-”

“And yet, here you are,” he interrupted through gritted teeth, “Refusing me the only thing I have dared to want since your kind has wronged me.”

“Then why would you want anything to do with me, if 'my kind' offends you that much?” you spat back.

He paused at words as if contemplating them. You could tell by the way his expression faltered a little that they had an effect on him. He turned away from you to stare into the skyline, now void of the warm sun you were starting to miss.

“Those who trapped me sought those which do not belong to them. Their actions caused the collapse of the Dreaming.” He eyed you sideways, and continued, “Your actions on that fateful day of our meeting, however, led me to a better understanding of my responsibilities to my realm. Do not associate yourself with their sins.”

It took him only a few steps to finally close the distance between you. He was barely a few inches away from you now, no longer able to hide the look of longing in his eyes. He dipped his head so close to yours you could feel his breath fan your cheeks, and if you leaned any further against the balcony railing, you risked falling over.

“I see you as you are, so pure and selfless, someone who has so little, yet deserves everything she dreams of. I can give you that, and more, my precious little saviour. You need only say the word.”

But you saw him as he was, too: he was a monster; your abductor and tormentor, and you, a mere human, meant to be kept in a cage in this sick game only he knew how to play. You’d never give him the satisfaction.

“No.”

“'No?’ I suggest you reconsider.”

“Alright, give me a moment.” You followed that with a short pause, crossing your arms, then continued, “There, I've thought of it. Still no. Put me back in my cage, lock me up for ten, twenty, fifty, years – hell, make it a hundred so we're even, I’d be dead by then – I don't care. I am not sleeping with you.”

You matched his reproachful and hurt look with an unyielding expression, bracing yourself for the consequences of your words. He withdrew from you with a slight curl of lips, and the sand that had once receded whirled itself around the both of you.

“Have it your way.”

As you closed your eyes, the floor beneath your feet shifted, and you were lifted to your feet momentarily before setting you back down on a cold, uneven surface. When you felt the sand around you disappear, your eyes were greeted by the familiar sight of a spherical glass enclosure. You placed a palm on the clammy surface and moved closer so you could better see where he had brought you.

It was an enormous chamber, more opulent than anything you’ve ever been in the entire day, yet somehow emptier, darker, more foreboding. Right in the middle of the expanse was a massive four-poster bed covered in midnight, silky sheets. In the dark, you could barely make out a symbol carved on the headboard: a helmet of some sort, akin to a gasmask, with an odd spinal vertebrae sticking out at the end of it. This wasn’t the artificial space he had constructed – it was his room. 

He brought you to his room so he could watch you perish.

“Judging by your expression, you already know where you are.”

The ruler of nightmares stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself. He strode with dawdling steps closer to your cage with arms behind his back and stopped only a few inches away from your glass prison.

“You have no idea how displeased I am with your actions today, my little saviour,” he spoke, slowly placing his hand on the glass directly over your palm. “You shall be punished as I see fit. Death will not come for you. You are mine for eternity.”

You shivered, but not from the cold, as he withdrew his hand from the glass and turned around, presumably to leave.

Morpheus turned his head to the side and said with a final tone, “Should you seek my forgiveness, you need only call upon me and say the word.”

The King of Nightmares then left for good, his long cloak billowing behind him, leaving only the resounding bang of the giant double doors as they closed. Left entirely to yourself, you had only one thought as you curled in a ball inside your prison:

You weren’t going to last much longer.

***

The first few days trapped in your sphere inside his room had its ups and downs.

On a positive note, you were no longer floating in artificial space and can now tell between night and day by the light streaming from his tall windows and perpetually open balcony. On the other hand, you now had company night after night, in the form of a nightmare personified, with his eyes glowing in the dark as it focused only on you. Although he’d occasionally leave, presumably to attend to his duties as a king, he always came back, sat on his royal, high-backed chair, and observed you, without a word, in captivity. It was deeply unsettling. Both of you had not spoken since, but there was no need to. 

By your seventh day stuck in your glass cage, you woke up to a different sight: he had taken you to his throne room. The sphere was floating just a few inches from the ground at the foot of the pristine stairs leading to his throne. Your increasingly pale pallor looked terribly out-of-place in a hall surrounded with colourful glass panels that seemed to shift its display of images, plus the enchanted ceiling made to look like the night sky. You looked around to see where he was, but he was absent. He may have gone off to wherever the hell his attention was called for.

But it didn't take long for you to have company. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that one of the massive double doors to the hall had opened. Thankfully, it wasn't him you saw. It was a tall, bald woman with pointy ears, wearing a fine-looking suit taking long strides towards you with an alarmed expression, mouthing something you couldn't hear.

Maybe she could free you!

Getting up and kneeling on the curved glass, you rapped the glass with your knuckles with urgency and for the first time in seven days, you spoke, "Help! Help me, please!"

The woman crouched down to touch the glass and said something, but you couldn't really concentrate on reading lips now, given how stressed you were getting. Was she mute? Maybe she didn't hear you the first time. You shouted, "Please, let me out! Help me!"

But then she motioned to her ears, and then mouthed, slowly this time, so you could read what she was saying through her lips:

'I can't hear you.'

"Lucienne."

Your heart jumped at the suddenness of the Nightmare King's voice booming inside the hall. You could hear him just fine. What the fuck was going on?

"There is no point engaging her in a conversation, Lucienne. She can only hear my voice, and only I can hear her. That is her punishment. I suggest you leave her be the next time you see her."

Morpheus appeared in your line of vision, locking his cold, pitiless eyes on your wide, bewildered ones. Turning to the woman named Lucienne, who got to her feet and bowed slightly to him, he said, "There is a new island that emerged northwest of the Land of Unfinished Inventions. Have someone survey the island and list its inhabitants. I shall be at the library to fetch the report by sundown."

Whatever Lucienne replied was to anybody's guess. With a final bow and a sympathetic look at your direction, she exited the throne room and left you alone with him. He gave you a searing look just before he climbed the stairs to his throne, fluffed his long black coat and settled down on his royal seat. You shot back a reproachful glare before turning your back to him, hugging your knees and completely ignoring him.

Several more of his subjects dropped by that morning, presumably to seek his counsel. A raven even tried to peck on your glass cage, but Morpheus, who called the raven Matthew, basically told him to ignore you, then sent him away. He spoke to all them with an authoritative tone, but by then you had learned how to block him out so you never really understood the conversations. Anyone who approached his throne had a clear view of you, displayed like a prize won from the spoils of war. Everyone ogled at you, some even gave looks of pity, but there wasn’t anything they could’ve done in the presence of their ruler. You had never been so embarrassed in your life, but you tried ignoring these looks as best you can, seeing as your captor had planned this so he could break you and force you to do his bidding. By midday, the slew of Dreaming subjects seeking their king’s presence had waned, and once again, you were left alone with him in total silence.

He broke the silence blanketing the throne room by calling your name. You heard it loud and clear, but his call was completely and deliberately ignored. He decided to call your name once more, this time with a tone of slight warning.

You gingerly sat up to see him standing before your cage, his hands behind his back and looking down at you with a disapproving look.

“Shall I take your voice away, as well, seeing as you refuse to use it in my presence?”

“Go to hell,” you replied flatly as you met his stare head on. It was getting exhausting, trying to put on a brave face, especially after he just threatened to take away your ability to speak, but you did so anyway.

“I have been there, my beloved,” he said with a slightly amused tone. “That does not insult me.”

Great, why couldn’t he have just stayed there?

“Frankly, I don’t care where you’ve been.”

His smirk only grew wider, and he started circling your cage at a leisurely pace. "Oh, but you'd care where I am going."

Why would I, you thought to yourself, and you couldn't help but raise a curious eyebrow.

"I will be at the library."

Part of you knew he was baiting you, but at that point, it couldn't hurt hearing him out, would it? Truth be told, you were dying for anything to do. Anything.

So you asked, "You have a library?" You recognized the flash of victory on his face.

"I do," he replied, crouching down on his knees to better look at you. "It contains everything humanity has ever written, including those that it has yet to finish. There is none like it across all the realms in the universe."

A library. The last time you had been to a library was about three months ago (if your calculation of your time spent in his realm was correct) and it was because of work. You hadn't had a time to even enjoy the place, and given that it'll be a long time before you even go back there (if he'd even let you), you now regretted not checking out a few books you had meant to borrow.

"I am aware you are partial to Mary Wollstonecraft. There is but one novel of hers she left unfinished when she passed."

Of course. The Wrongs of Woman.

"It lies in my library, completed, and it awaits you," he goaded on with that infuriatingly smug expression. "You only have to say the word."

As tempting as it was, you knew that by agreeing with his proposal, you would be giving away any remaining dignity you had left. Between a book and your autonomy, it was an easy choice. You withdrew as far back as you could in your cage and shook your head once.

"I can't."

Morpheus seemed genuinely taken aback by your resistance. "You would keep yourself from reading your favourite author's work in favour of refusing me?" He asked incredulously.

"I don't want it," you whispered, trying to keep your voice from breaking. "Just leave me alone. Please."

Your captor clenched his jaw and fists and said nothing, but guessing from how his knuckles turned white, he was furious. You couldn't care less if he was, though. Maybe you'd make him angry enough to kill you instead – that way, you wouldn't have to put up with all this anymore.

You hugged your knees, buried your face in them, and finally started to cry.

***

It stung. Your words actually felt like a whiplash to Morpheus's heart. He was seething, true, but everyday without you in his arms wounded him further, it was getting more strenuous for him to reel in his frustration without further taking it out on you. Your heart was farther out of reach than ever before, and nothing he could offer you seemed to work.

And then, he heard you sob, just as he was leaving to blow off steam and attend to his kingdom. It pained him to leave you in such a broken state, but you left him no choice. He had to keep you there until you saw your error. He knew the moment you said the words, he would take you in his arms and give you all the stars in the universe, should you ask him.

But even when he had finished all the work he had intended to do, even when he had already obtained the report he had asked Lucienne to make, that piteous weep plagued his mind. In all the days he's had you inside your glass enclosure, he had never heard you cry like so. He was always aware of your inner strength – your display of backbone in your imprisonment was nothing short of admirable. But you were wasting away the longer you resisted him, and he could not have that.

Despite all these conflicting emotions stirring up a storm inside him, what he desperately needed was to just spend precious time with you, to feel your soft touch, and to have you fall asleep in his arms as he read you poetry from a long-forgotten era…

The last thought brought forth a rather inspiring notion. He had distractedly drifted to the bookshelf that held the book he had taunted you with that morning. He hated having to deprive you of reading the book he thought you'd adore, but perhaps he could make a compromise.

He pulled the book out of the shelf without wasting time, and willed himself inside your cramped glass cage. You were asleep, it seemed, as far back as you could, with your head resting uncomfortably on the glass. There was not much space so he had to be careful and sat with his legs crossed. As he did, however, you had chosen to shift in your sleep and your hand had hit his leg lightly, stirring you awake. Even with your tear-stained cheeks, he found it adorable how you blearily rubbed your eyes to better focus on what exactly you had accidentally touched.

The sun had long since set, so Morpheus used his sand to transport the entire glass enclosure to his bedroom. This was an intimate moment he felt should remain away from prying eyes. Once the sand had cleared, he softly said your name out loud. His voice instantly jolted you alert, your eyes growing wide, and he knew that if you had room you would get as far away from him as you could. He was quite thankful he had created such a constricted space.

"What are you doing here?" You asked. Your voice sounded strained, probably from crying, and your eyes were red and puffy. He hated how you looked so forlorn, he had to stop himself from taking you in his arms, whisking you to his bed and kissing all your troubles away. He had to remind himself that there would be a time for that once you had ultimately, utterly surrendered to him. He had to concentrate, not on your supple, slightly trembling lips, but on what he truly came here for.

"I have in my hand the book I have told you about." He held the book up so you could better see it and know he was not trying to trick you. He saw your eyes light up momentarily at the sight of the tome, and that delighted him immensely. It had been a while since he had seen your light. He needed more of it.

"I would like to read it to you."

Your innocently confused expression was nothing but endearing. "I can just read it myself," you said.

"And you shall – once you have accepted my terms. Until then, you will have to get used to my story-telling," he countered, slightly teasing you. Morpheus had been told many times how alluring his voice was. Perhaps it would have the same effect on you. You seemed to weigh your options and tried detecting deception from him. He was starting to lose hope that you didn't want him with you, so he was relieved when you finally nodded.

Morpheus had almost forgotten how to smile after your refusal at his balcony, but the one he showed you was genuine, nonetheless.

You were quiet the entire time he read from the book, but the way you were so focused on him and hung onto every word made his heart flutter. He was halfway through one chapter when you started to shift just a little bit closer to him, your head leaning on the glass as you took to his storytelling. Just as he reached the end of the chapter, your eyes were already trying to stave off sleep and your head was falling to the side, but the limited space in the glass sphere he already occupied prevented you from laying down.

Momentarily pausing his reading, he said, "You can rest your head here, if you'd like." He tapped his thigh lightly, urging you to use it as a pillow. He knew how uncomfortable it was to lie on cold glass, and you had not slept on a proper bed since your arrival to his realm. If he had his way, he lamented, he'd have you in his arms and on his bed, the both of you stripped of all your clothing, yet draped in the most luxurious silk sheets his kingdom could offer. He hoped you would accept his invitation of resting on his lap just so he could have your bodies touch again, to feel your warmth, to be connected with you in any way once more. To his absolute delight, you did, and he happily continued to read from the book until he heard your deep, rhythmic breathing.

You had fallen asleep on his lap.

It was nothing compared to the kiss he had shared with you in your home, of course, but it was enough for Morpheus to cry a small victory: you had trusted him enough to fall asleep with him, on him, in his presence. He smiled to himself, sighing minutely, as his fingers traced your exposed cheek with a longing even he could not describe. He hardly dared move in fear of waking you up and you recoiling at your closeness, so he found contentment in stroking your hair with all the gentleness he could muster.

There, in the glass amidst the stillness provided by your hushed breathing, he resolved to be more patient: if this was how being with you made him feel, then it would be worth the wait.

***

The sun was streaming through your eyelids when you came to, but you didn't want to wake up just yet. You just had the best, albeit dreamless, sleep you've ever had in a long while, owing to that pillow your head had been resting on. You were hoping you'd be able to squeeze in five more minutes, until it struck you:

You never had a pillow in your glass prison.

Your eyes immediately shot open, greeted by a multitude of swirling galaxies that seem to float in deep blue waters. You just slept on the lap of Dream of the Endless, him and that soft, radiant smile and those long, fluttering eyelashes. You knew that stare perfectly well even when you haven't been at the receiving end of until now: it was the gaze of a lover.

He was anything but.

"Good morning, my precious little saviour."

You sat up at once, trying to assure yourself you couldn't have slept anywhere else due to the limited amount of space in the glass cage. Nevertheless, you automatically muttered an apology under your breath for falling asleep on him.

"My love, there is nothing to apologise for," he said gently as he watched you pull your legs close to your chest. "It must have caused you great discomfort to have been sleeping on such an unfriendly surface for so long."

And whose fault is that? You thought wryly. Your eyes landed on the book he had propped against the glass. The book he had been reading to you just before you fell asleep. This didn't escape his ever-observant eyes.

"Should you like to continue where we left off, I am willing to relinquish the book…release you from this glass sphere, let you peruse other books in my library..."

He picked up the book and waved it lightly in front of him.

"For a price, of course."

Ah, there it was. He wouldn't be offering you anything for free at this stage, Hell would freeze over first (which is apparently a place that actually exists). He drew closer to you, his hands leaning against the glass on both your sides to trap you.

"Kiss me, my beloved," he whispered. Thankfully you still had your knees to your chest or your noses would've already touched. His heavy gaze focused on nothing but your lips, he continued, "Grant me a kiss, and I shall allow you unfettered access to a library like no other."

You calculated your options. While you were grateful he hadn't asked you to sleep with him, a kiss was still a form of contact with a being keeping you against your will you'd much rather have nothing at all to do with. Still, you couldn't help but look at his slightly parted lips, and a memory of you kissing them in your home surfaced. Had it really been that long ago? It wasn't bad, if you tried being objective. Plus, you'd finally have something to do outside your sphere. It's just a kiss, nothing more.

You gave him a single nod.

Delight washed over your captor's features as he touched your knees lightly, urging you to lower them and allow him to get closer. You could feel your skin tingling where he touched them, but that was soon forgotten the moment you shifted to a more relaxed pose. Without an ounce of hesitation, he cupped your face and pressed his lips on yours.

Reluctant as you were, he didn't seem to mind, for he gripped the back of your neck and changed his angle, his tongue prying your mouth open. Within seconds, his tongue danced with yours, and you were struggling to keep up. His other hand gripped your waist and pulled you closer to him as he bit your lower lip gently, and the surprised gasp you let out only made him deepen the kiss. An eternity seemed to pass before his lips withdrew from yours, but to your horror, he started caressing your jaw, dipping lower into your neck and suckling your skin. You placed a hand on his chest and tapped.

Breathless, you said, "Don't…please, you said it was just a kiss – "

You felt a rumble from his chest, and he harshly yanked your wrist away, effectively cutting off any complaint you had.

"The kiss will be over when I say so," he growled against your ear, before nipping on your earlobe and planting open-mouthed kisses on your neck once more.

Dear heavens, his mouth scorched your skin, and you knew the way he sucked on it would leave bruises. You wanted to break free from his death grip and scream, but you took his thumb placed on your pulse point as a warning, so instead you gripped his coat and closed your eyes tight with a whimper. You felt his teeth scrape your collarbone before he pulled the neckline of your dress so he could bite down on your shoulder.

Just as you were about to cry, Dream pulled away, gave you one last peck on the lips, and nudged your chin a little. When you opened your eyes at last, you found yourself sitting on the floor of his room and the glass you had been encased in nowhere in sight. He helped you to your feet with his arm still around your body.

"I will have an attendant help you with your preparations," he said as he let go. "You will meet me at the dining hall."

The kiss he left you with on your forehead did not help your shaking and the shame you felt at what you just did for this little bit of freedom.

***

Morpheus said you needed to meet him in the dining hall, which meant fuck-all because you had absolutely no clue where it was. His palace was an elaborate maze of rooms and galleries, hallways and staircases, and the occasional dreamer wandering around, lost just like you were. You tried asking one of them where it was, but the response you got didn't make sense at all (to them it probably did, as dreams often were; when they wake up from it, not so much).

A loud crash and a string of curses interrupted your musing, so you followed the sound, and after two right turns and a left, you found a woman at the end of the hallway kneeling on the floor, fussing over a broken dish and the spilled contents it once held. You were on her side at once, picking up the broken ceramic as carefully as you could.

"Oh, this is so embarrassing," the woman whined, fishing out a cloth to wipe the mess off the floor as best she could. "I'm sorry you had to see this, I'm not normally this clumsy…"

"It's okay, I'm happy to help," you brushed her off as you began picking up the smaller bits and piling them on a corner. "Besides, I'm kind of lost, maybe after we clear this up, you can help me find the way to the dining hall?"

You looked at her expectantly, but she had already paused at cleaning the mess in favour of ogling at you.

"I know you, " She exclaimed. "You're the girl he put in the glass cage!"

Distracted by her reaction, you let out a soft, pained gasp; a tiny piece of the ceramic had pricked your finger.

"If you don't mind my asking, are you alright?" The woman asked hesitantly with a concerned expression.

You nodded. "It's just a nick, I'll be fine."

"No, I don't mean your finger, dear," she whispered as she drew closer to you. "How did you end up on his bad side?"

"Oh." The question had taken you aback, but you weren't sure how to respond. Maybe if she knew the truth, she could help? "I didn't –"

A firm call for your name made you freeze midspeech. It was Dream, striding purposefully to where you were. It was clear with his expression that he wasn't happy.

"You were to meet me at the dining hall. What kept you?" he questioned as soon as he reached you.

"I got lost," you defended as you got up to your feet. Not wanting to upset him any further, you tried to hide your bleeding finger behind your back, but it was too late; he grabbed your wrist and brought it to his view. If he was unhappy then, he became furious in an instant.

"What have you done to yourself?" He asked through gritted teeth, his grip on your hand tightening, his eyes blazing and demanding answers.

Your heart was beating wildly as you tried to explain, "N-nothing, it-it was just – "

"My Lord, if I may."

The woman you just met interrupted and stood calmly even under the scrutiny of her ill-tempered king. That took courage, which you found yourself being drained of every single day with him.

"I tripped over myself and made a mess of this dish I was supposed to bring to the dining hall," she began. "The good lady, seeing my distress, temporarily abandoned her search for her destination and only tried to assist me, injuring herself in the process."

Morpheus turned to you, his features softening a little. "Is this true, my beloved?"

All you could do was give him a shaky nod. You felt relieved when his anger visibly dissipated and his grip on you softened, his expression turning apologetic. Without looking at the woman, he ordered her to fetch someone named Mervyn to clean the spill on the floor, to which she simply bowed and left.

"Then, there is no excuse for my harshness," he said, before bringing your injured finger to his lips. The cut healed itself in a matter of seconds, much to your astonishment. "I should be grateful that you were willing to put yourself in harm's way to help my palace staff."

He went further by placing your palm on his cheek and then kissing it, his stare darkening as he did. You fought that nagging urge to yank your hand away, fearing that his anger might resurface.

"I could not have chosen better."

You averted that increasingly heated gaze of his, but it was too late to avoid the other thing you had been dreading: he pulled you by the hand to him for a kiss on your lips.

Dream pinned you in place with a firm grip on your waist and another behind your back, which then travelled to the back of your neck. Struggling was futile, so you did your best to hold it all in as he suckled your lower lip and drew in all your gasps, leaving you close to suffocating, just like the way he spirited you away. With every motion you allowed his tongue on your mouth, he syphoned away whatever self-respect you had left.

Will he leave you with anything?

It didn't take long before a sob began to form at the back of your throat. Perhaps he heard it, or felt it, for he let go with much reluctance. Instead, he settled with bringing your foreheads together while you composed yourself. It wouldn't do you much good if you suddenly lost your mind right in front of him, right?

"Have I told you how much I am in awe of your beauty, my love?" He whispered against your lips. "You prove to me time and again that your heart is just as beautiful, if not more so."

You offered no words while he stroked your cheek with his forefinger and he placed his lips over your ear.

"As such, I will prove to you just how much it belongs to me."

He will take everything from you, even after you have nothing left. *****************************

Part III here!!!

Thank you for reading!!!! Please engage and all that. it's really appreciated :)

Chapter 1: The Firsts of Many

Chapter 2: Some Words Are Better Left Unsaid

Chapter 3: True Intentions

Chapter 4: Scarlet Sage

Chapter 5: Your King

Chapter 6: The Sleep Doctor

Chapter 7: Nightmarish Visits

Chapter 8: The Dream Plan

Chapter 9: Courtships with Deadlines

Chapter 10: This Dream is Over

Chapter 11: Your Nightmare, Tenfold

Chapter 12: The Princess in the Tall Tower

Chapter 13: Under the Starry Night Sky

Chapter 14: A Festivity and A Fight

Chapter 15: Your King’s Wish

Chapter 16: Vanilla Ice Cream and Cheese

Chapter 17: Lost and Found, and Lost Again

Chapter 18: A Confession...of Love?

Chapter 19: The Dream That Started It All

Chapter 20: The Abyss Gazes Back

It's your creator’s eyes that you first see when you open yours – eyes that seemingly contain the entire universe in them, so blue, so warm, so tender. They look at you with so much adoration, you couldn’t help but smile and lean to the warmth of his palm caressing your cheek. He returns your smile with equal fervor. The first time you hear his voice, so deep and velvety and hypnotic, he gives you a name, ‘Mera.’

“My little dream, you’re beautiful. You’re perfect.” You watch his lips move as he utters his praise to his own creation.

You bask is his touch, noting how you had no right to be called ‘perfect,’ when he stands, regal in his own beauty, breathtaking and ethereal. He gives you a function which you take by heart – you are to inspire mortals to put passion in what they do and help them find what they’re truly looking for in their lives while they sleep and roam in his realm, your home, which he calls the Dreaming.

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

Your first words are of utter reverence and gratitude. “My Lord and my King, I owe you my life. Do as you will with it.”

You watch as Dream’s eyes light up with an emotion you have yet to learn the meaning of. Unbothered, you place your hand on the one still cupping your face gently, as you quietly declare your devotion to the purpose he gave you for his realm and his dreamers. You decide to pointedly ignore that faint ringing in your ears, that voice at the back of your mind, quietly telling you that something was amiss and cautioning you to tread lightly in his presence.

***

You grow accustomed to your tasks in the Dreaming in no time. Like you’ve been doing it for millennia, Merv snidely remarks. You’ve gotten to know him, Lucienne, the royal librarian, and the other residents of the realm. When you weren’t attending to the humans in their dreams, you spent most of your time in the Royal Library, ardently absorbing every book you could get your hands on. Who wouldn’t, when every book that humanity has ever written and continue to write is there, waiting to be plucked from the tall, expansive shelves and perused by eager, hungry eyes? You have grown to love the humans, so in your wish to serve them better and inspire them even more in their dreams, you bury your nose in their creations, imagining yourself present in their victories and defeats, their lives, and their deaths.

This is how your master finds you one night in his library: lounging comfortably on one of the high-backed leather sofas, your back resting on one of the armrests and your legs dangling over the other, so engrossed in the novel you were reading you don’t register his presence. His eyes linger a little longer on the way your dress had hiked up to your thighs while you were so cosily reading – he hesitates, not wanting to disturb you from your book. He diverts his gaze away from your exposed flesh to your face, scrunched up in concentration. He notices the way your eyelashes flutter as you blink slowly, the way you lick your lips and rub your eyes, to him a subtle sign that you were trying to stave off sleep in favour of the tome. He needs to remedy this; he does not want you overworking yourself.

“You should be resting, my little dream.”

Startled, the book slips from your hand as you sit upright and adjust your dress – damn if he sees you in such a state, you can’t have a member of the Dreaming staff behave so uncouthly, and right in front of the Creator, no less!

“My lord! My apologies, I didn’t notice you enter.”

Picking up the book you dropped, you belatedly realize that you hadn’t even bookmarked the book! You couldn’t help the huff of annoyance that escapes your lips as you set the book down on the coffee table right in front of the sofa. You look to Dream’s face, expecting a reprimanding scowl to greet you, only to see mild amusement glinting in his eyes.

“You need not apologise. I did not mean to take you by surprise and tear you away from your reading.”

He takes a few steps closer to the other couch across where you’re perched, the ghost of a smile lingering on the corners of his mouth. “May I?” he asks, gesturing to the sofa.

You flash your own tired smile at him. “Of course. It’s your couch, My Lord.”

You watch him as he sits on the leather couch and lean back comfortably with the grace of a true monarch. He picks up one of the books piled high on the coffee table, ones you’ve already finished, observing the cover before setting it back down.

“It gives me great pleasure to see you’re living up to your name, my Mera.”

You shoot him a questioning look, but his eyes just twinkle with fondness and pride before he gently amends, “Lucienne has told me how you have been ardently immersing yourself in the dreams and works of the dreamers in your desire to improve your craft. I expect no less from my own creation.”

At this praise you beam shyly, fidgeting at one of the sofa’s armrests.

“However, I should also like my little dream to take sufficient rest and look after her well-being.”

You are touched at his tender reprimand – despite his often-intimidating nature, you know that deep-down, he genuinely cares for his subjects. You, however, can’t find it in you to give in to his request just yet – you had only a few more pages left of the chapter you were reading! So you muster up the courage to ask, “Please, my Lord, can I finish the last pages of the chapter, at least?”

“Just a few more pages?” He replies with a tiny smirk, raising an eyebrow.

You give him a tiny nod, your own smile growing, already knowing that he’d relent at your small behest.

Morpheus knows all too well that he will never be able to resist granting you whatever you wished for. How could he when you’ve been so gracious to his precious little dreamers? When you were pleading him in this demure way he finds so endearing? A few more pages were nothing compared the burden he has given you and will be giving you in the near future.

“Very well. Just a few more pages.”

He sees the way your eyes light up in pure joy as he gave you the permission to continue with your book. He would give anything within his power if it meant that light would grace him for eternity.

“Thank you, Lord Morpheus. And thank you for your concern for my well-being, I shall try not to overwork myself too often.”

The last part of your sentence barely registers to the Endless, as he relishes the feeling of his name on your lips, fighting the sudden urge to kiss them until they were numb and raw. He thanks the Fates you were once again lost in your book, for he’s sure the look on his face would have surely betrayed the whirlwind of emotions he’s feeling at that very moment. Feigning interest on the book he picked up earlier, he props it open on his lap, lifting the pages every now and then, pretending to read – all the while observing you, listening to your breathing, taking you in, revelling in the comforting silence that now permeated the library.

It isn’t long after he notices that your breathing has gone deeper and more relaxed. He rises to his feet and walks over to your form hunched on the sofa, removing the book now covering your face. He smiles to himself when he sees you, fast asleep, noting how exhaustion finally took over your determination to finish whatever was left of the chapter you were on. He remembers to mark the page with the bookmark attached to the book’s spine, then sets it on the coffee table. He stares at your sleeping form for what seems like ages, debating whether or not it’d be acceptable at this stage to pick you up and transport you to his chambers where you’d rest under the warmth of his own bedcovers. Deciding it was far too early and far too bold a move, he conjures a soft, woolen blanket out of thin air and drapes it over you, making sure it warmed your entire form. Longingly, he traces your lips ever-so-gently with his fingers, then your cheeks, before placing a soft, chaste kiss on your forehead.

“Sleep well, little dream of mine.”

With that soft farewell, he leaves the library quietly so as to not rouse you from your dreamless slumber. One day soon, he pledges to himself, you will fall asleep in his arms under the endless expanse of stars that littered the universe.

 ***

Your day was just as eventful as any day in the Dreaming. You had finished attending to your duties, conjuring inspiring thoughts in the dreamers you graced your presence with. You take a walk in one of the many gardens within your King’s palace, finally deciding to pause and take a breather by sitting on one of the benches overlooking the breathtaking sunset now gracing the entire realm.

Out of the many gardens within the palace grounds, this is your absolute favorite. Not many residents of the Dreaming frequent this garden, with the exception of Merv occasionally tending to the flower beds; it offers one of the best views of that orange-purple sunset under which you love basking in the glow – it makes for the perfect place where you can reflect on the dreams you have helped the humans form in their sleeping hours. You allow your thoughts to drift from the beauty of the garden to the memory of the first dream, the first human you helped inspire.

The Dream Lord had just created you then. After showing you around his realm, he walked with you to the ocean of dreams, where all his little dreamers dreamed their little dreams. Your breathing quickened at the sight of the vast waters, not wanting to find out what would happen if you got lost in them. Lord Morpheus, sensing your apprehension, took your hand in his.

“Fear not the waters, my little dream. I am the master of this realm, and you, my beloved creation. No harm shall befall you in my own kingdom.”

You remember looking to your lord’s face, soft and reassuring. You didn’t want to disappoint him on your first day, so you steeled your resolve. You gave him a firm and determined nod, and with that, hands still interlocked, you dove headfirst.

The moment you were fully submerged in the cold, dark sea, you were hit with a violent wave of emotions and vivid visions – the dreams, you reminded yourself. You were in the dreams of hundreds of millions of sleeping beings of all sorts. You could hear them, feel what they were all feeling, see what they were seeing in their sleep – flashes of love and hate, of rage and joy, bitterness and jealousy; glimpses of their pasts, present, and imagined future. In a daze you saw thousands upon thousands of unfamiliar faces of the people in their lives: enemies, friends, lovers, family – all passing you by at a speed you could barely comprehend. You felt as if your body was being intensely pulled in all directions. You found the entire universe’s collective unconscious suffocating you, swallowing you whole, so you close your eyes and let it take you.

Until you felt a pair of strong arms gather you close their body and their lips whisper in your ear.

“Careful not to let them consume you, my little dream, and concentrate. Now, let your intuition guide you and draw you to your first dreamer.”

Clinging unto him like a lifeline, you took a deep breath and looked to the seemingly unending streak of ideas, sounds, events, sensations, faces - of everything humanity has to offer – and hone in on the quiet bubbling of a pot over a crackling fire. The moment you willed yourself to the sound, you felt a tug in your belly button, and you fall, fast. The fall was dizzying, endless – but so was the hand holding yours, you reminded yourself. Just when there seemed to be no end to the fall, your felt your feet touch solid ground. You would’ve fallen unceremoniously to it, too, had your creator not anchored you on the waist with his hands and held you still. Mind still fuzzy at your journey which seemed to last for mere seconds and eons at the same time, you looked up to him, marvelling at how he seemed unmoving, unfazed, unbothered with all that you’ve just witnessed.

Is this how he feels all the time, cradling the entire Dreaming in his wake? It was then that it dawned on you the burden he bears, which he bears alone, until the universe passes and is no more. It was then that you understood how his responsibility was infinitely greater than the mere purpose he has given you.

“You did well, my Mera.” His eyes bore into yours, twinkling with great pride.

Not knowing what to say – you’ve just peeked into all of humanity’s dreams for the first time in your existence, no big deal – you manage a small “thank you,” still feeling hazy from…whatever that was you just experienced.

Mentally shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you looked around the place, the dream, you just brought yourselves to. You were in the corner of a large kitchen, facing a long table that was filled with an assortment of fresh vegetables, fruit, and meat, waiting to be cooked. A huge chopping block with neatly cut beetroots laid at the far corner of the table, a sign that someone was just there cutting away and had left momentarily. Your eyes found the pot that drew you to this dream, hanging from a metal beam in the large cooking hearth to your side, its contents happily bubbling away. The kitchen was bright, homely and inviting. It also seemed like it should have been teeming with life, full of people bustling about, trying to get their own cooking done and getting errands out the way. Oddly enough, it was empty, save for a little girl quietly ogling at the sizable collection of dried spices and herbs in tiny glass jars arranged tidily in a cabinet twice her size.

“I see you’ve brought us to the dreams of Lavinia Baxter.”

Dream of the Endless let go of his hold on you, keen to see you perform for the first time. With his hand, he motioned to the little girl, about 10 years of age, who seemed oblivious to your presence.

You walk leisurely around the kitchen, taking in every detail of the little girl’s vivid imagination. Without making a sound, you both watch Lavinia as she opened the spice cabinet. She took one little spice jar out at a time, opening them and taking in each of the smells, seemingly trying to take her pick. She finally decided with two of them, clutching them in her small hands and walking to the pot of stew on the hearth. With practiced dexterity, she placed some of the herbs in her palms, rubbing them together before they fell in the pot. She then stirred the pot with a wooden ladle and, looking around her like she was making sure no one else was there, put the ladle to her lips to taste the stew. The door to the kitchen suddenly bursts open, and out came a short, plump woman in her late 40s, who, upon laying her eyes on the little girl who looked guilty at getting caught, burst into a jovial laughter, and strode over to where little Lavinia was.

“Well, well, caught red-handed! How does it taste, my sweet?” the woman asked her, hands on her hips.

Lavinia let out an adorable giggle and handed the ladle to her, urging her to have a taste. She accepted the ladle and tasted the sauce still coating it, while the little girl watched with anticipation. The woman’s expression changed quickly from curiosity to one of delight.

“Why, I see you have made some adjustments to this! It tastes absolutely fantastic,” she exclaimed, which made Lavinia smile so broadly it seemed to brighten up the kitchen even more.

“I added some of these,” she quips, showing the woman jars she took out from the spice cabinet.

The woman nods in approval, praising her, “You have a fine sense of smell, my lady. I think we oughtta add that to the recipe book, don’t ya? Where’s a quill when you need one…ah, right over there!” She pointed to the quill and the bottle of ink on a small desk by the window.

From her apron, she fished out a black, leather-bound book the size of her palm, while Lavinia retrieved the quill and handed it to her. She proceeded to tell the woman how much she added to the stew while the other wrote it down on the book.

This is a memory, you realize. Lavinia’s memory, unfolding right before you, moved you so deeply you almost forgot you were there to work. She seemed to have so much passion for cooking at a very early age, for you felt within your bones the sheer elation that never left her eyes as she interacted with the woman with the black book.

“Little Lavinia has fond childhood memories of Millie, her household’s head cook.” Dream mentioned, breaking his silence, and striding over to where you were. “She spent more time with her, more than she did her own mother.”

The woman called Millie leapt to her feet all of a sudden. “My dear God, look at the time. You better hurry, my sweet, your husband might be waiting for you.”

Lavinia, nodding with a put-out expression, took dainty steps toward a door on her right that wasn’t there before. You and your master followed her as she led you to the next room, where, as you gleaned, the next part of her dream was to take place.

“Husband?” You turned to Dream with a puzzled face, walking together to the room Lavinia just entered. As the door closes itself behind you, he gestures around the room.

“Observe.”

And you did. The room you were in now was rather dark, with the thick brocade curtains drawn over the windows to block the sunlight. It was a study, it seemed, filled wall-to-wall with books, not unlike the ones you can find in the Royal Library. The study itself was rather small and bare, with a desk in the middle and a singular lamp illuminating the entire place. The desk was almost empty, except for a single, framed photograph. Behind the desk sat Lavinia, staring blankly to the wall – except she was no longer the 10-year-old girl from the other room, but a young woman, face forlorn and tear-stained, far too weary-looking for someone of her age.

“In the waking world, Lavinia, barely twenty-three, lost her husband to a shipwreck not a mere three weeks ago. Misfortune has seemed to follow her since then, for not a week after, she finds out her husband’s estate has left her barely nothing to live by. She has not only found herself to be a widow, but one doomed to poverty.” Dream’s words echoed in the study hauntingly, adding to the melancholic atmosphere.

You glanced at the photograph of a finely dressed young man with kind, smiling eyes. Your heart hurt for Lavinia. You moved to reach for her hand to comfort her, but Dream shakes his head.

“You are meant to inspire, my dream, not provide solace to the mourning.” Dream gently reminded you.

“Where can I begin, then, My Lord?” your whisper. You wanted with all your heart to help Lavinia, but you to be honest, you were quite lost.

With a knowing sparkle in his eyes, he waved his once more around the study. “Begin here, where she has brought you. You need only trust yourself.”

You stifled the huff you were sorely tempted to let out. Your master obviously wasn’t willing to provide you anymore hints than the rather vague one he just gave you, so you wracked your brains for something, anything, that might help the grieving young woman before you.

Come on, Mera, think. What does Lavinia love so much, one that might prove enough to at least bring back happiness to her life and help her get her shit together?

You knew the answer even before you finish the question in your head. With a steely look on your face, you strode over to the walls lined with books, caressing their spines, eyes scanning the shelves until you found just what you were looking for: Millie’s little black book. The leather was peeling off in small patches at the corners, the pages were browned, and it needed some dusting, but it looked like it was rummaged through many times and handled with so much love and care.

With deliberate force, you threw the book across the room, hitting her squarely in the face. You hadn’t meant for it to land there, but before you could say something to apologize (forgetting you hadn’t appeared to her yet), Lavinia, cursing with surprising ease, takes one look at the book and lets out a light chuckle which comes out hoarse, a sign that she hadn’t let one out since the news of her husband's passing.

Before you could celebrate your success at making her laugh, your expression turned to mild horror as she broke down into tears, hugging the book close to her heart.

“L-looks like you caught me red-handed again, M-Mi..Millie,” she choked between her sobs.

You looked to your Lord, who was taking in the scene before him with mild mirth. “I made it worse!”

“You think?” vaguely he gestured once more to the weeping widow. “Look at her again.”

This time, you paid closer attention to her face. She was crying, that’s true, but now a wide smile graced the corners of her mouth, and in your relief, there was a tiny hint of that twinkle in her eyes you saw light up the kitchen in Millie’s presence. It was a small spark, but you knew with every fiber of your being that that was the spark she needed to get her life back together.

You looked at your master directly in the eyes, wanting validation. Dream, his smile now as wide as yours, stares back with pride at your first successful dream, and with the same intense emotion he looked at you with when you first declared your life was his. He drew closer (how is he this fast) to you, never breaking eye contact. Face mere inches away from yours, he spoke with all the authority only an Endless can possess.

“You did well today, my Mera. You make a fine addition to my Realm.” His fingers ghosting over your cheek, he asks you, “Can I count on you to continue fulfilling the purpose I gave you for the Dreaming, and for me?”

Savouring your master’s praise of your first handiwork, you responded without hesitation: “Yes, my King.”

Dream of the Endless seemed to relish your words. His gaze grew more intense and you felt engulfed in it. Without warning, that voice at the back of your head let out a resounding screech, so loud in your brain you flinched, breaking your eye contact with your Lord.

Morpheus seemed to recognize this momentary slip. In a split-second, he waves his hand and declares, “This dream is over.”

With no time to ruminate on your subconscious’ reaction, you felt that all-too-familiar tug in your bellybutton, signaling your return from the ocean of dreams.

***

“Hey, kid! Are you gonna be there for longer? I got work to do there!”

Merv’s voice is enough to shake you from your musings. Finding the sunset’s glow a little too bright to look to see his form, you turn to your left you where his voice came from, squinting.

“Are those new flowers, Merv?” You call to him.

“Yeah, boss said this garden needed new ones.”

You get up to leave Merv with his gardening, but not before something black moving out of the corner of your eye catches your attention.

It’s him, that voice in your head whispers. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you get this strange feeling that you’re being watched.

Heart pounding, you inspect the area where the flash of black should’ve been, but you find nothing there. The voice is making you unnecessarily paranoid. You really shouldn’t be entertaining this.

Wanting to soothe yourself from that mentally induced little fright, you walk back into the palace, your feet automatically going for the Royal Library.

The library is quiet today, as any day. You wave ‘hello’ to Lucienne, who greets you with a grin and a nod in your general direction. You originally wanted to make a conversation with her about anything just to get your mind off your frazzled nerves, but she seemed too busy with sorting what seemed like new books that appeared in the Realm. You decide to spare her from listening to your pointless ramblings, and instead go to the L section. You pull up Lavinia Baxter’s books from the shelf and make a beeline for your favourite reading spot. Curling into a ball on the leather couch and setting the other book down, you flip through the pages of the one you’ve read probably a dozen times.

You may be biased, but your favorite dreams of Lavinia’s were the ones after your unconventional visit. Since then, she has renewed her passion for making sumptuous dishes, spending her almost all of her waking hours experimenting with new ingredients and coming up with recipes of her own. Her dreams have since reflected this wonderful turnabout, prompting you to visit her again multiple times to help her with desserts, something you noticed she struggled with. It wasn’t long before the other book you grabbed from the shelf materialized in the realm, with bold letters on the cover that read “Lavinia Baxter’s 19th Century Guide to Household Cookery.” Your heart sang with delight at its appearance, knowing you inspired her well enough to publish her own cookbook, without even showing her your true form.

Setting aside Lavinia’s book of dreams, you pick up the cookbook and flip it to the dedication page.

 To my dearest Millie,

Thank you for visiting me in my dreams and smacking me in the face with your little recipe book. You have no idea how that saved me.

 You trace the words on the page lovingly. Suddenly –

Watch out. The voice is back.

Shut up! You hiss back at it.

Great. There it is again, that sensation of being watched. Cursing mentally, you close Lavinia’s recipe book and hold it close, hugging it like it could help that uneasy feeling disappear. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to succumb to your fatigue and fall into a blissful, dreamless slumber.

Yet those normally blue eyes, almost silver now with the barely restrained need to take, never leave your sleeping figure.

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

Link to the Next Chapter Author’s note:

I know this chapter was exceedingly long and I can’t guarantee that the next ones will be as long as this, but I can assure you I will do my very best to make it as engaging as I can. As a first-time fic writer, now I know how other fic writers feel when a fic consumes their entire soul and refuses to leave your thoughts until it gets written lmaooo

This chapter is just trying to establish how Mera’s life is like after being created by Dream. More Dark!Morpheus to come as he shows his true intentions to you!

Please comment, reblog and engage!! I’d love to hear your feedback, predictions, violent reactions lol

Special shoutout to @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen2 encouraging me to finally pen this, as well as to other Dark!Morpheus fic writers whose fics I’ve had the pleasure of reading (and rereading!)

Thank you!

Post date:10/23/22