#morpheus smut

You always felt him before you saw him. The shadowed edges of your dreams would forge into the shape of him—him who was tall, lean, little more than the glimmer of pale skin visible beneath the dark coat that brushed the floor of your subconscious and somehow stirred even though there was no wind.

His wild hair fell in black, inky strands that framed the sharp edges of his face but never seemed to settle. It was as if the air refused to touch him, or maybe it was him who refused to belong to the air, or perhaps he owned the very air around him. His skin was pale—not the delicate pallor of the sleepless, but the absence of sunlight itself, as if he had stood untouched for centuries beneath a sky that forgot how to burn.

And then there were his eyes.

Oh, his eyes.

His eyes were so incredibly black, like bottomless pits that offered you a glimpse of the vast darkness of the cosmos. And there were stars in his eyes. You did not see them at first. You had to step closer. You did not remember deciding to move, but you did. Your feet dragged forward, slow and helpless, and when you lifted your gaze you saw it— the faintest glimmer of stars trapped inside his eyes.

The sight of them was enough to pin you in place the first time. Because that was when you realised.

He was old.

Not old in the sense of years or decades. No.

He was old in the way stories are old. Old in the way stars are old. Old in the way you were never supposed to see, or know, or touch. But you did.

The first time, you remember you were hesitant. You remember how slowly you had rose your arm, your fingertips sparking with something desperate, aching to close the impossible space between you and touch his skin. You remember how his dark eyes had followed every movement of your hand, brows twitching—the faintest ripple across his otherwise unmoved face— as if amused, and also surprised, perhaps even outraged at your presumption that you could dare touch him.

He stopped you.

He caught your hand before you could complete the touch, his fingers cool as they closed firmly around yours, pressing your hand down as if to remind you. Of what, you did not quite know back then.

It was only later, after countless times of seeing him in your dreams that you realised. When you first touched, it had to have been on his terms.

His gaze slid over you—not with tenderness, but with a kind of distant permission, the way one might allow a flame to flicker a little closer to the drapes just to see what happens.

His other hand rose with deliberate slowness, trailing up to graze the edge of your jaw. His touch was impossibly cool, his skin like marble—unforgiving at first, but yielding in the places where he chose to let you feel him. His thumb dragged slowly along your lower lip, and he looked at you as if you were not entirely real. Funny, considering how he was a man made of shadows with the entire cosmos held in his eyes. You remember the weight of his fingers against you. You remember leaning into it.

You did not know his name. You did not ask.

After that first encounter, the dreams pressed closer, hotter, rougher—your body pinned beneath his as he claimed you against the wall of some crumbling hall, the slick grass of a forest that flickered in and out of coherence, the ground, the marble floor of a castle, still and perhaps never making architectural sense.

You never begged him to stop. But you did beg him not to leave.

And he did not. Night after night, he returned. He touched you like he knew the notes to the strings of your body, and your soul and body sang for him in response. He filled you with his essence, and hoped his seed would take. You knew because he whispered it in your ear like a dirty, secret confession. Every night.

Overtime, you learned to claim him too. You shed your shyness, climbed him boldly like his lap was your throne to sit on, and touched him like it was your birthright.

It went on for months.

And every time you woke from these dreams, you could always feel the lingering echo of his touch, as if it had been seared into your skin. You spent your waking hours in turmoil, thinking about your dreams, about him. You were getting addicted, you could barely function during the day without wishing you could fall asleep, fall into the arms of your dream man. You started going to bed earlier. You started skipping plans. You started craving sleep like it's a drug and he is the nameless dealer.

The days shrink. The nights length.

But it does not matter, not anymore, for every time you fall asleep, he is waiting. Like tonight.

The moment your conscious enters the Dreaming, his weight settles over you like velvet and iron, but you do not mind, it is an ache you ache to bear. Like every night, he claims you. He takes you against the trembling edge of reason, until the line between you and him feels like it was never there.

You still have not asked for his name. You fear what would happen if you spoke it aloud. You don’t know if you are dreaming, or if the dreaming has devoured you whole.

But you want to know, you need to know it for your own sanity.

So once he had his way with ruining you, you decide, for the first time in months, you decide to voice the question. Your lips part, your breath shallow against his palm, still cool against your jaw.

"...Who are you?"

His head tilts, just slightly, the faintest quirk of his mouth appearing as though the question itself amused him more than any answer he might give.

His thumb ghosts over your lower lip, slow and thoughtful.

“That is not a question you should ask.” His voice curls into you, soft and dark and ancient.

But you do not back down. "You have absolutely ruined me for anyone else. I believe I deserve at least the curtesy of knowing your name." The words rush out before you can stop them. and even you are surprised at your own bravery to be so direct with him.

His brows lift, a flicker of something behind his eyes—interest, perhaps. Or patience thinning.

So you decide to soften your request. "Please," you swallow, pulse thudding in your throat.

“You may call me…” A pause, deliberate one. “…Morpheus.”

You whisper it back to him, testing the shape of it in your mouth. "Morpheus."

His gaze darkens at the way his name falls from your lips. You fear for a moment he might pin you beneath him and have his way for the second time in one night. But he does not. He quenches the fire rising beneath his skin instead.

“Careful,” he says, his thumb pressing just slightly harder against your lip. “Names are powerful things.”

It sounds like a warning, one you think you need to heed, but before you can say anything in response, you jolt awake suddenly.

Once again, alone, in your bed.

You release a heavy sigh and look at the ceiling helplessly. You ask the heavens how long you can bear to live like this— living in your dreams, dreading your waking hours. How long you can continue being in love with a man who does not exist.

You close your eyes and imagine him. "Morpheus," you whisper to yourself wistfully. You half expect him to be there when you open your eyes, and you laugh at yourself with pity when he is not.

You push the covers away, and decide you need to start getting on with your day.

You’re still heavy with the weight of last night’s dream when you step outside. The city hums around you, a thin, irritating buzz—car horns, rubber on asphalt, hurried footfalls. You barely notice them. It is him you are thinking about. His hands, his mouth, his breath against your throat. His name.

You approach the crosswalk, waiting for the sign to change. And then, the air shifts. The sound of the city drops out like someone’s cut the wires.

With furrowed brows, you slowly lift your head. And then—

You see him.

Your body freezes. Because it is him. Across the street. Standing perfectly still, untouched by the blur of people rushing past him. He’s wearing that long, black coat—the same one you’ve clutched in your fists, the same one you’ve felt brushing your bare skin in sleep. His hair falls in black waves around his face, just as it does when he leans over you, when his hands pin you to the floor of the dreams.

His skin is impossibly pale. His eyes are—

Your breath catches.

They’re the same. The same impossible, depthless black, the same faint shimmer of stars caught in the dark.

He’s real.

He’s real. Here. Now.

And he’s looking at you.

Not past you. Not through you.

At you.

The corner of his mouth twitches, just enough to be deliberate. Enough to tease you, or perhaps taunt you, you do not know. You do not care to know. You need to cross the road to him. Now.

The crosswalk signal changes.

Heart hammering, throat burning, you take a step towards him.

A car horn blares somewhere behind you.

When you blink, he’s gone.

To say that you had a shitty day would have been a gross misunderstanding. Pretty much everything that could have gone wrong, had.

First, you woke up hours before you were supposed to be up for the day, when you heard a weird noise in your bedroom. It took you just a couple of moments to wake up fully to realise that the noise you were hearing is from dripping water. Water, that was currently dripping from your ceiling and slattering on the floor.

By the time it took you to put a bucket under the leak, reach your neighbours, who, apparently, had a burst pipe, and call for your building maintenance team, there was barely an hour left before you had to be up for the day.

You sighed, knowing that there was no point by then to even attempt to go back to sleep. As much as you wanted to go back to the soothing embrace of The Dreaming, you knew that Morpheus had to go back to his duties. It was better to just start the day bright and early. And, maybe, if you're lucky, you can try to sneak back into the Dreaming a little bit earlier than usual.

The universe had other plans, though. Being awake from such an unusual hour put your head in a weird place. The whole world felt like it was moving 2 seconds faster than you did, and you felt completely off balance.

The sleeve of your favourite cosy knit sweater got caught on the door handle just as you were going through the door, yanking your body back with an unmistakable rip. Mourning the loss of your sweater, you changed out of it in a rush and ran out the door to catch the train to work. Only there did you realise that you put the new blouse inside out in your haste.

Burrowing deeper into your scarf, in both shame and cold, you decided to just pop into the café bathroom on the way to work. You needed more caffeine anyway.

Changing out of the blouse in lightning speed, you thanked the barista behind the counter, grabbed your coffee and rushed out the door. Only to have your boot slip right next to the entrance to your work, making you lose your footing. In the last-ditch effort to save yourself from further embarrassment this fine morning, you grabbed onto the wall for support, which stopped your descent to the cement pavement. But nothing comes free, and you paid the price for that dearly in the currency of your precious coffee. The cup crumpled in your hand and spilt the, thankfully not scalding anymore, liquid right down your pants.

You ended up using your scarf to try and soak up the coffee-drenched material, giving up halfway through. You stuffed the ruined scarf back in your bag and rushed up the stairs to, hopefully, survive the workday.

The dark colour of your pants thankfully covered the coffee stain, so you weren't that bad off, all things considered. What was bad, though, was your entire workday.

From sending an important email to the wrong Reece in the company (why are there so many of them?? Just pick another name!) to your laptop having to update its software right before an important video meeting. You ended up joining that halfway through, barging in with your microphone unmuted, where the host actually had to stop and ask you to mute yourself. During lunch, you swallowed a small fish bone that you felt lodge in your throat for hours after that. The elevator was not working right when you had to go 7 floors up for another meeting, so you arrived all sweaty and panting out of breath - you really should make use of that free gym membership that the company offered.

So, you definitely had better days this year.

In the attempt to change the day, you decided to take it easy for the evening. You knew you had a bottle of wine calling your name somewhere in the cupboard. After work, you stopped at a supermarket and got yourself a box of cupcakes, as a means to drown yourself in sugar.

Thankfully, the way back home was less of a fight for your life. You closed the doors behind yourself, kicked off your shoes, and collapsed on the sofa. As much as you wanted to wrap yourself in a blanket, watch some trashy TV and stuff your mouth full of cupcake icing, or, better yet, to fall asleep and wake up in the Dreaming, you felt sweaty. The coffee stains dried ages ago, and your pants felt stiff and sticky.

You dragged yourself off the sofa and into your bathroom, dedicating the last of your energy to the task at hand. You started filling your tub full of water, dropped a bath bomb in and watched it fizz, creating a mountain of bubbles. You grabbed your box of cheap cupcakes, a glass of wine, some half-decent candles and the cosiest shirt to sleep in afterwards, and closed the doors to trap the steam in.

Dipping a foot in, you sighed in bliss. The water, just on the pleasant side of hot, tingling the skin and sending goosebumps down your back. You could feel it seeping through the skin and muscles, before finally reaching your freezing bones. You haven't even realised how cold you've been, but it would make sense given your poor attire for the day, which ended up being plagued with unrelenting winds and sporadic rains.

You slowly eased yourself in until your neck, and then deeper some more, until the bubbles tickled your nose, and stayed there. When it felt like you could feel your limbs again, you reached out for the cupcake that you left on the rim of the bathtub and stuffed it in your mouth.

Self-care at its best.

Somewhere between your third cupcake and half an overfilled glass of wine, you felt the air in your small bathroom, now resembling more of a sauna, shift. You didn't need to turn your head to know that you were no longer alone, and a smile touched your lips.

You were feeling much better already, so you opened your eyes just to drink in the sheer beauty of him.

Your Dream stood by the door in all his regal beauty. Head held high, back straight, wrapped in black. His lips, for once, were not set in a hard frown, shoulders relaxed just a fraction. An unmistakable softness in his eyes.

The same look, only you were ever privy to.

"My love." He greets you, eyes softening even further at the sight of you, submerged in bubbles and warm candlelight. Voice a touch above a whisper, as if he was afraid to disturb the tranquil bubble you created for yourself.

"Hi, love." You smile back at him, lifting a hand out of the water and reaching toward him with a grabby hand. He takes it as a confirmation that you want him closer, and wastes not a single second before he glides over to your side.

His hand grasps yours as he lowers his head to lay a kiss on the back of your hand. His eyes are still watching you like you're the single most important creation in this universe. Reverent tenderness etched into every move, to convey just how grateful he is that you deem him worthy of your presence.

You can feel a hot blush climbing its way over your neck and cheeks. You hoped it would have been harder to notice with the small room being this steamy and bathed in candlelight, but he knew you well enough to know the effect he always has on you. Amusement dances in his eyes, and he keeps a lingering kiss pressed to your skin, lips softly brushing the back of your hand for longer than he should have.

A corner of your lips twitches into a wicked smile you direct at him, and you tug your arm back. With him absolutely refusing to relinquish his hold, he follows. He leans over the rim of the bathtub and lays a kiss on your forehead. You close your eyes in bliss and drink in the peace and rightness of this very moment after the day of never-ending chaos. 

"Long day?" He mumbles into your skin, moving a hairbreadth away, refusing to let more distance between the two of you. You hum in response.

"Endless." Your body shakes in laughter at the stupid joke you made. It was reassuring to know that you haven’t been defeated by this crappy day, and you were still the funniest person in this room.

He fights the urge to roll his eyes, but his lips twitch in amusement. Not because the joke was funny - far from that. He simply enjoyed watching happiness dance across your cheeks, touching the corners of your eyes and settling on your plump, soft lips. He will stomach a lifetime of less-than-funny jokes, just for the privilege of seeing you like this. And he will do it gladly.

He reaches his other hand out and brushes your hair back from your face.

"Tell me about it." He kneels next to the bathtub you’re lying in, one hand still grasping yours. You lower it and settle on your stomach, his coat sleeve submerging into the colourful water hidden under the mountain of bubbles. His other hand continues to brush your hair softly, thumb occasionally brushing your cheek or temple, eyes not leaving your face for a moment.

His undivided attention would put anyone, Gods and mortals, on the edge. But to you, the intensity in his gaze will always feel like home. Like safety.

You start recounting your day and how everything that could have gone wrong, pretty much had. Morpheus listens attentively, letting out small hums here and there. His gaze flickering across your face, but never straying any further.

At some point during your story, you feel his fingertips start to wander over the slick skin of your stomach, down the side of your hip. He draws soothing circles over your thighs, moving up and down, featherlight touches just on the side of soft and not ticklish. You start to relax deeper into soapy water without even realising it.

Soon, shapes and patterns start moving up your hip and back over your stomach, large hand splaying there in a gesture that could only be described as possessive.

Curious fingertips move up your ribs, reacquainting with the softness of your body. The one he will spend an eternity worshipping, if you only let him.

Your fingers follow his in their path, settling on the back of his hand, tracing soft shapes of your own.

Once your story starts winding down, you feel his hand inching up once again. He stops just at the underside of your breast, brushing the delicate skin there with the backs of his fingers, but refusing to go any further. You interlock your hands and move them up, letting him know you're just as excited as he is to have his hands wandering. He squeezes your breast softly, and you can see his shoulders loosen up just a fraction more. His impeccable posture, even when kneeling next to you, unwinding more, as if he was breathing out the stress of his own day. You make out the softest of sighs leaving his lips.

You crack your eye open and send him a questioning look. He was very touchy this evening. Not that you're complaining, of course.

His thumb brushes over your nipple, and your breath catches. You barely suppress a shiver racing down your spine as he continues to watch you, eyes full of wonder. As if you were the most beautiful life in this realm and any other. The most wondrous creature that even he, the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares, could have ever imagined. His beautiful, strong, smart, resilient queen.

"Let me take care of you, my love." He whispers. He turns his palm to grasp your wrist and lifts your hands up to his lips once more. He plants a soft kiss, eyes closing in comfort.

You sigh, mesmerised. The love in his eyes, the adoration etched into every single line of his body. This beautiful, powerful being, on his knees in front of you, pleading with you just so he could touch you. You never felt more beautiful. Never felt this powerful. You nod your head, as words refuse to form on your tongue any longer, and he leans down, locking his lips with yours.

The kiss is all-consuming. Heavy and filled with passion. His tongue locking in a dance with yours, fighting for dominance, lips nipping yours softly. You feel his hand grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he indulges in something he could not stop thinking about since the last time he saw you. His other hand moves over your chest, a familiar weight of your breast settling in his palm. He could feel something deep in his chest flip with the rightness of this moment.

You’re so lost in the burning feeling coursing through your veins that you don’t even notice when you start sitting up, pushing back into him. You wrap both your arms around his neck, trying to use them as leverage to pull yourself, and tangle your fingers in his messy hair.

You feel his hand leave your chest to cradle your ribcage, nudging you to lie back into the steaming water, and you crack an eye open to look at him in confusion again. He's there, bent over the porcelain rim of the bathtub, and you have half a mind to ask him what he’s doing, before you feel his hands slowly start to wander again. 

He moves slowly, taking his time and indulging. Testing and teasing, fingers dipping in and out of the water to follow the curves of your skin. Still so tender that it sends tingles down your arms and legs, but never more than that.

He moves his fingertips up and down the length of your side, but his game starts to get tiresome to you, and you open your eyes to glare at him in reprimand. He has absolutely no shame. No guilt in his eyes. Just open wonder and insatiable hunger in the depths of his bottomless black eyes, flecked in stardust.

You open your mouth to tell him off when you feel his fingers inch up your inner thigh towards where you want him the most right now. He moves with a clear purpose, and it's enough to make you choke on your own words, lips parting in a choked gasp. He clearly takes that as a prized victory, judging by the slight twitch of his lips.

His thumb brushes over your clit briefly, but you know him well enough to know that that was no accident.

'Smug bastard...'

Before you can say anything to him, his finger circles your sensitive nub, and you can feel your knees jerk in automatic response. He rubs circles around it, alternating between tight and fast, and featherlight, for so long, but you have no chance to predict what he will do next and stay just on the edge. But never enough to actually push you over it.

You let out a mewl, thighs trembling and bending at your knees. Your hand shoots out to wrap around his wrist, and he tuts at you in reprimand, eyes boring deep into yours.

"Do not deprive me of yourself." His deep drawl makes your heart flip, the demand leaving no room for argument. But he clearly misunderstood your intentions - you were not aiming to stop him. You just needed him to stop teasing already. You roll your eyes at him and his antics.

"Then touch me properly."

Your fingers relax around his wrist, and that's all the invitation he was looking for.

His fingers slide lower, leaving your throbbing clit, and you feel his finger plunging inside you with barely any preamble. Your breath catches at the sudden intrusion, but you feel no discomfort. You were past the prep needing stage of his little game. His ring finger follows shortly after, and you involuntarily let out a gasp.

His other hand moves your head towards him, and he leans in to claim your lips again. He could feel your hot, tight walls quiver around his fingers, and he sighs in delight.

Morpheus continues kissing you breathless, one hand still keeping your head in place, and you're happy to give him the control he's looking for. His fingers finally start moving and curling, finding that perfect sweet spot deep inside you with ease and familiarity, and you lurch from the water and into him.

But he's already there, laying you back down, his curled fingers never stopping their perfect assault, and you barely have the mind to fill your lungs with oxygen. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the sensations burning through your limbs. You arch your chest, vaguely aware of the water sloshing around you. 

"Eyes on me." He commands, and you no longer have any willpower to deny him. Anything. You will do anything he wants, as long as he doesn’t stop.

Your eyes meet, and the absolute hunger and adoration in his eyes makes you let you the most pathetic moan. His fingers still working you open, you reach out your other hand towards his face, and he leans his cheek into your palm, nuzzling the skin there. The act so pure and innocent, and so opposite from what he's currently doing with his other hand, that it threatens to give you whiplash.

The obscene squelching you can hear over the blood rushing in your ears makes you let out a deep moan, heat coiling at the pit of your stomach. You’re breathing hard, not able to fill your lungs nearly enough, but you tug his face back towards yours until your lips clash once again. It’s all teeth and tongue and all shaking desperation to be closer. 

Your hands anchor to him, one tangled in his messy hair, the other gripping his coat lapel. 

His hand is moving faster now, and it's not long before you can feel a third finger enter you, stretching you further. You grip his hair tighter, and you can feel his chest vibrate with a moan he's fighting to suppress.

You know he likes you much more vocal, though, so you detach your lips from his with some difficulty and let out a long whine.

His hand moves faster, thumb drawing tight and fast circles around your clit to bring you closer and closer. Rapidly cooling water is sloshing around you, and you’re pretty sure there’s a puddle on your bathroom floor. Wouldn't it be fun to flood your neighbours tonight?

You feel his pace slowing down again, fingers curling just right to hit that sweetest spot over and over again. Your whines are getting louder, no longer being completely drowned out by the squelching and water sloshing and spilling from your tub.

You feel his nose nudge your cheek, and he whispers something in your ear, but you're far too lost in your pleasure to understand or even hear him. His name leaves your lips in a never-ending chant, as if it's the only thing you still know how to do.

His thumb moves across your clit, fingers moving in and out of your hole at a swift pace, and you feel the coil tighten even further. Morpheus's fingers tighten around the back of your neck to turn you back to him, and he slots his mouth over yours. He swallows up the moans leaving your lips, letting them slither down his throat as he continues to kiss the life out of you.

You come crashing with no warning, lips parting from his to let out the most guttural moan. He lets the moment pass, committing the sound to his memory to revisit later, before he follows after your lips again and continues to steal the breath right out of your lungs. Your body is trembling uncontrollably, heat coursing through and spreading in your veins.

He lets you ride out your high on his fingers, never ceasing the softest touches, teeth nipping at your kiss-bitten lips, brushing against the crown of your head and leaving soft kisses, thumb brushing your cheek. You vaguely note that he's breathing harder and deeper than normal, exhales catching on his lips.

Your breathing is ragged, and you can't seem to fill your lungs with enough air. The humid air in the bathroom is not helping with the task at hand, but he doesn't rush you. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest. He keeps planting little kisses everywhere his lips could reach, giving you enough time to come back to him.

Once you have enough strength to open your eyes, you feel him cradle your jaw with both hands and return to your lips for a messy, sloppy kiss. Your trembling hands lift off from where they were gripping the tub rim to grasp at his coat, desperately clinging to the safety and security that his arms guarantee.

You want to be closer to him. You need him closer.

He's wearing too many clothes, and you need to touch his skin, now.

"Please…" you mutter right into his mouth, and he doesn't need more than that to understand what you need. He plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, before you feel his arm wrap around the backs of your knees, the other supporting your back, and you use your remaining strength to grip his shoulders.

He stands up with you in his arms, dripping water all over, but he doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he can't seem to stop kissing every inch of you that his lips can reach. He goes down on one knee once again and sits you up on the rim of the bathtub.

Morpheus grabs a towel and starts drying your body off, wrapping it around your shoulders and kissing your temple. He moves down your body, his eyes tracking his own hands and their path, making sure to catch every single drop of water as if it's the most important job that he's been blessed with in his existence. As if you're the most precious thing to him that ever existed.

He makes sure to taste every newly dry inch of your skin on his lips. You can feel his lips on your shoulders, moving down to your chest in the most comforting of ways. He kisses your wrists and palms, and the warmth spreads through your insides. The kisses he lies across your ribs makes you suppress a giggle from the ticklish feeling, and he cracks a small smile in response. When his lips move from your knee to the inside of your thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin there, you grip his hair in warning and Morpheus all but growls.

"My love." You mutter in a voice as stern as you could muster at this moment, which, to be fair, wasn't much, but he stills, eyes lifting to yours. Your fingers relax in his hair, and you brush it softly, fingers hooking under his chin, bringing his face up. He follows as if under a spell.

"Let's get out of here, love. It's getting chilly." You continue, wanting more than anything to lie down in your soft bed and wrap yourself around your Dream.

Morpheus, by the looks of it, could not agree more with your idea. He flicks his wrist, and the fluffiest bathrobe wraps around you. You snuggle deeper into it, vaguely registering that it's definitely not one of the ones you own - he must have created it for you just now.

You smile at him in gratefulness and lean down to peck his forehead. He basks in the moment, fingers flexing at your sides, before lifting you back in his arms and standing up. You lean your head on his shoulder as he carries you out and into your bedroom.

Your head hits the pillow, and you feel his familiar weight settle between your legs as you give him a smile that he returns in earnest. His nose bumps into yours, and you hear him whisper against your lips.

"Let us see if we can make this evening more pleasing, my love." His eyes twinkle with the galaxies you'll never get tired of getting lost in, and you grin back at him.

He brushes a strand of hair back from your forehead.

The dreaming is beautiful, always has been and as far as you know, it always will be.

You werent anyone special...at least by human standards. you slept, wandered the dreaming frollicking in your fantasies, and woke up the next morning like everyone else. but for the prince of stories, you were EXTRAORDINARY.

kind, sympathetic, selfless, everything he loved about humanity. It amazed him how someone like YOU could still hold that purity in a world so cold and cruel. Dream had to meet you, to know you, and he wanted you to know him as well.

Of course, as it often does Lord Morpheus' curiosity had gotten the best of him. From visiting you in your dreams, to inviting you to his palace in the dreaming, you werent sure how you caught his attention, but youre VERY glad you did.

However, the dreaming wasnt always butterflies and unicorns with morpheus. when he was free of his duties, the two of you would go for long, thoughtful walks in the gardens of fiddlers green, or along the dark black sands under the bright stars when you knew the world was at rest.

Other times though, the king of dreams was far too busy to even concern himself with where you were in the dreaming when you arrived. tonight, was one of those nights.

You found yourself roaming the halls of his palace, admiring his art. the fine details in the oil paintings, carvings of the marble statues, everything perfect down to the last inch. even in the resting hours of the dreaming, the realm seemed to glow in its beauty.

It wasnt long in your wandering before you grabbed the attention of the endless lord. Morpheus could hear your footsteps drawing closer, and knew he would be disturbed soon. either by your presence, or the fact that youd get lost if he didnt intervene... so naturally, he did.

"my darling...have you lost your way?"

you stop in your tracks, caught off guard by his sudden deep voice echoing off the walls.

"Dream? where are you...? i can hear you but..."

Your footsteps become frantic, eager to find your king in the dark halls of his dimly lit palace. a small smile appears on his face as he realizes how badly you want to see him.

"this way dearest. i can hear you getting closer."

He responds to you. after the short pitter patter of your erratic feet, you find yourself gazing at him from beyond his desk. his long fingers shuffling and flipping through loose papers as he glances up at you behind his black lashes.

"finally, you sure know how to hide from a girl dont you my lord?"

"i am not hiding, im busy."

his eyes fall back to the papers he signs in front of you. after doing so, the paper disappears with a sandy gold glow.

"may i....ask what youre busy doing?"

you fiddle with your fingers as you speak to him. knowing that when hes in certain moods, its very hard to get through to him. "neck deep in paperwork," is one of those moods.

"its none of your concern. however i AM sure you wouldnt mind waiting for me in my chambers while i finish my work."

Morpheus never takes his eyes off the papers as he continues to scribble his name on some of them, setting others to the side for later approval. Puffing your lips up into a pout, you take a seat on his desk. this time, he raises his eyes once more to you, his hands freezing for the first time the whole night.

"Y/N..."

Stern in his tone, you can tell he's serious and not in the mood to play any of your games. were you being a brat? of course you were. the man rules his own realm, theres obviously matters that concern him in the late hours. but even an endless needs a break sometimes, and with you as his "official, not official girlfriend" it was up to you to convince your lover to at LEAST do that.

"i'm not bothering you am i? i dont mind waiting id just...rather wait here."

You reply, cutely smiling at him. the lord shaper scoffs at you as he continues digging through the paperwork. your own eyes scan over the many trinkets and gadgets he has aligning his desk, and you cant help but find it so cute that a man like him, still decorated his personal spaces.

"may i suggest, perhaps sitting elsewhere...?"

Clearly agitated with your presence, dream gently pushes your thigh with his finger tip making more area room to sign his papers. happily, you ignore his question, and instead ask your own.

"....wont you take a break with me dream? just a few minutes. we can sit out in your garden with the roses."

"No."

well THAT was quick. did he even think about it? you ask yourself a million questions before pushing one of his trinkets to the floor, "happiness" turning to anger.

"Please dont do that."

He stops his writing long enough to glance at you in annoyance before his pen began its job once more.

"please take a break."

you retort, Noticing his concern for the item you purposely pushed to the ground in front of him.

"dont worry, its not broken. besides that was an....accident."

hand resting on another object, dream quickly grabs your wrist.

"Dont. i said please."

"so did i."

you both stare at each other for what felt like minutes. his cold, blue eyes burning into yours and suddenly, you get an idea. a deliciously devious idea.

"i cannot take a break. surely you understand the extent of my duties. if you cannot respect them, i may be forced to send you back to the waking world."

so strict, by the gods you loved it. and he loved you. how you pushed him to explore his humanity, to enjoy his immortal, endless life. he wasnt human by any means, but he knew if ANYONE could make him feel so, it was you.

"i respect you dream....my lord... and, im sorry. i just dont want you to be overwhelmed with your responsibilities my love."

You raise your hand, gently kissing his knuckles and he slowly lets your wrist go afterwards.

"thank you."

He replies, pulling another small stack of papers from an envelope within his desk.

"i should...probably pick that thing up for you."

Smirking to yourself, you slink down off of his desk. on your hands and knees, you grab dreams possession from the floor but you also have something else on your mind. it doesnt take long for morpheus to become suspicious of you.

"y/n? what are you-"

He's taken aback by your sudden hands on his inner thighs, massaging him dangerously close to his clothed cock in his pants.

"Im sorry my lord. i just...got distracted."

you tease, dreams hands instantly fly to yours to move them. but instead, you take his trinket and place it into his rough palm.

"as promised, see?"

A giggle escapes you, and you gaze into his eyes from between his legs. you little devil, you KNOW how much that drives him MAD with lust for you.

"thats enough. come from under there this instant."

Theres a change in his tone. this time, you hear him fighting his desire, and it makes you plant soft kisses along his thigh instead of obeying his command. morpheus would be a pure blooded LIAR if he said it didnt arouse him.

"please...i am...begging you-"

his grip tightens on the trinket in his hand before he tosses it onto his desk. the paperwork no longer his concern, no matter how badly he fails at claiming it is. in this moment, all he wants is to feel the inside of your mouth. of course, he CANT let you know that.

"i dont wanna dream...i want to stay right here, while you continue your 'duties'"

Mocking his deep voice, your hands rise up his thighs and make contact with his hardening dick in his pants, a heavy sigh leaves him as he realizes he will NOT be finishing his work tonight, but instead taking on a new task.

"is THAT what you want...? so be it."

Suddenly, dreams hands find their way into your hair as he firmly presses your face down into his crotch where you so LONGFULLY wished to be.

"You are such a needful little brat y/n. not allowing me to tend to the responsibilities of my realm, yet believing you deserve my gentle treatment?"

his voice is deep and sultry as he grinds his hips across your face. you can feel his length, rock hard on your cheek as his breath becomes heavy and ragged.

"you are quite the enigma my darling. so nurturing, meek, and docile in the waking world, but your dreams...they show me a different, subtle side of you."

He scoffs as his hands loosen from your hair, and take solace around your neck instead.

"Most people like you, have this carnal craving. this desire to be at the mercy of anyone who will give them just a hint of attention. its rather....pathetic."

Breathless...is one way to describe the feeling he gives you. he pulls at your neck, urging you to climb from under his desk and stand with him. his grip never falters as he stares down at your dark red face. you LOVE this, and he knows it.

"Nothing to say now...has the cat of dreams finally claimed your tongue?"

He's smiling. that adorable smile brings the same to your lips as you answer him.

"Y-yes my lord. its all ive wanted this evening."

Somehow, your confidence is gone. youre not sure if its his hands on your neck, or the fact that hes taken pure control of you, but every bone in your body wants to obey him. to let him use you. to let him FUCK you like the bratty whore youve been all night. and who would morpheus be to deny you?

"im sure it is. since you would like to be a nuisance, and keep me from my work, perhaps i should give you a task of your own."

He forcefully turns you around, bending you over all his paper work and folders as his strong hands make their way down your back. you try to push your ass back onto him, but with unimaginable strength, he holds you still by your hips.

"Enough. stay."

His voice is heavy with authority as he tugs your pajama shorts down to your knees with his free hand. your pussy drenched as he admires his prey from above. a truely beautiful sight to behold.

"can you recall how many times ive visited you in your dreams?"

Rough hands caresses your bare ass as he awaits your answer.

"n-no my lord."

Good girl. you know not to keep him waiting.

"And yet, you have no idea how many of your filthy delusions ive stood and witnessed for myself."

You didnt think you could be more aroused, but you clench your thighs together at the thought of the lord shaper watching your dreams. your DIRTY, WET dreams. the fantasies you wouldnt dare utter to a human soul, yet here he was. casually admiting that he may have seen them all.

"if your dreams are anything like your reality..."

He grinds into you. his cock clothed, but the heat still beautiful on your pussy as you moan his name for him, begging splendidly without doing so out loud.

"...then i know just how to break you."

The weight on your body grows heavy as morpheus leans over you, his strong hands returning to their grip on your hips.

a shiver travels down your spine, as his thick deliciously sexy voice makes its way into your ear.

"tell me my darling...do i have permission to BREAK you?"

(you guys, i wanted to make this SO MUCH LONGER and filthier!! but i wasnt too sure about it. 😅 please if you read this far, let me know if youd like me to go ALL OUT next time! or make a part 2 to this)

The Dreaming withered in his absence. Rivers stilled, flowers closed, libraries crumbled. And still he endured, his eyes burning with stars older than gods, a king stripped to stillness.

Until one night, something changed.

Not the circle, not the prison, not the chains of glass and spell. But the air itself—shifting like a tide. A mortal’s dream had wandered too close.

Not to the waking world above. Not to the cellar. But to him.

The sea of stars that always hung behind the glass stirred, shimmering brighter. A figure stepped into view, hesitant yet unafraid. Bare feet on starlight, hair spilling like ink over her shoulders, eyes steady in the impossible dark.

She drew closer until the starlit sea lapped against the glass. And then she raised her hand, pressing her palm to the smooth surface.

A voice filled the air—not spoken with lips, but carried on the gravity of storms, the weight of night itself.

“You are not supposed to be here.”

The woman did not flinch. “And yet,” she murmured, her voice low but certain, “here I am.”

For the first time in years, his gaze sharpened, focusing on her as though she were not merely a dream, but something more.

“My name is [Y/N],” she said, her hand still against the glass.

“Leave,” he commanded. The sound cracked the silence like thunder. “Before they notice you.”

She did. The dream dissolved, the stars retreating, and the silence folded back in on itself.

But she returned the next night. And the night after. And the night after that.

She never begged, never asked questions, never sought to claim or command. She stood in silence with him, her palm pressed to the glass, her eyes steady and calm.

She offered nothing but presence.

And in her presence, something impossible stirred.

For the first time in an age, the Endless remembered the taste of something he had long abandoned — a small, stubborn, dangerous thing.

Hope.

READ NEXT Chapter 1 — The Dream That Would Not Fade

You knew it the moment Morpheus stepped into the mortal realm with the intention of finding you. A weird, but familiar, shiver danced up and down your spine. He was here. You knew he was coming straight for you. He was on a hunt. You, the prey. There was one question bothering you though. Morpheus knew where you were this whole time, why come find you now? 

Deep down, you knew the answer. As bitter as the truth was, you knew the answer. Dream was heartbroken. Alone. So he was seeking that which is familiar, an old friend, anything that would stroke his ego and soothe his pain – something you had the habit of always doing, lifetimes ago – letting him know that he was still loveable. That he was not someone you could easily leave behind in the past. Cajoling him, uplifting his mood, there was a time when you’d do anything for him. Anything. But not now. 

Not anymore. 

You knew he was here, still you went about your day like it was just another one. Of course, like the nocturnal creature you’d become ever since opening your clubs all over the globe, your ‘day’ began after nine o’clock at night. 

You got ready and drove to the heart of the city, to your own little, salacious slice of heaven. Your clubs were everything to you. And you knew it meant a lot to your members as well. A safe place, a judgement free zone where they could meet others with similar tastes, kinks, and desires; where they could explore and experiment in a safe environment, where they could mingle and get away from their mundane lives. Where they could hide in the shadows and whisper their deepest, darkest secrets to people who would understand. 

The dark red interior, the dimmed scones on the walls, the private rooms… the sound of hushed voices, giggles and laughs, muffled moans and the energy in the air. Buzzing. Alive. Intense. 

But it all ceased. Everything stopped for you. The sounds, the excitement, that feeling of utter belonging – it all stopped the moment you caught a pair of painfully familiar dark eyes. In the sea of red decor, dark shadows, soft dim lights, Morpheus both stood out and blended in at the same time. 

Morpheus, darkness personified. With ridiculous soft lips and yearning in his eyes. He carried himself like a king, like an old god. “There you are.” His calm, steady words both soothed and irritated an old wound. He sounded relieved. 

“Dream.” You whispered, your voice void of all emotions. You always thought you’d have so much to tell him when you’d see him again. So much hate. So many harsh words to throw at his arrogant face. But this was all you could utter in the moment. Just his name. Nothing else. 

He stepped closer, ignoring the people scattered about around you like they never existed. This was how he was. How he always was. Long ago, you were too blind to see it. To blind to see how he treated others because all that mattered was how he treated you. Until, it was your turn to be discarded like an unwanted toy by a petulant child. Only then did you see him for who he was. 

Yet, even now, you hated how fast your heart began racing the moment he stepped closer to you. The moment he took up all the space in front of you. When all you could see, hear, smell, and feel was him. You hated how your body reacted to him. Even now, even so many lifetimes later. You hated feeling that sense of belonging. That feeling of puzzle pieces slotting back into the right place. 

“This is not where I thought I’d find you.” He said. “You look different.” His eyes lowered, roaming all over your body. 

You watched him as he took you in. You knew exactly why he had that look on his face. That betrayed look. Because you looked good, in your little, lacy red dress. Your dark red undergarments very much visible. Your outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination. Except this time around, you weren’t dressed up for him. Anyone who walked by could see you. Could want you. You weren’t his anymore. You watched him realise this. And Morpheus had always been jealous. 

He continued, “The last time I saw you–,” 

You couldn’t help but scoff and cut him off. “Do you even remember when that was? The last time you saw me?” 

The surprised look on his face told you that he wasn’t expecting this tone from you. This defiance. This boldness. So he frowned and said, stepping even closer, “Need I remind you that you chose to come and hide in the mortal realm?” 

“It’s not hiding if you knew where I was the whole time, Dream.” You reminded him. You knew. He knew. Everyone fucking knew where you were. “Why are you here?” You taunted, for a moment you forgot what he was capable of and carried on goading him. “I take it she left you for good then, Nada? And now you need to prove to yourself and everyone else that you’re still loveable, so you’ve come to find me?” You chuckled, dryly. “I’m not who I used to be, Morpheus. I won’t be your little toy. That vicious cycle, that push and pull, those games… It's all over. I won’t fall for it, for you. Not this time.” 

“I can see that.” He hissed. 

“Oh good then.” You rolled your eyes, sighing, “I was wondering if I’d have to kick you out or if you’d get the memo and–,” 

“Come back to me.” It was his turn to surprise you. His voice firm, and cold. “It’s never been the same without you. Everyone misses you.” He said. “I miss you.” 

Everyone misses you… your friends. You hadn’t thought about them in a long time. You felt a strange weight on your chest upon remembering your time with The Endless. The fun, the laughs, the parties, the pranks. 

“Go away, Dream.” You sounded tired. 

But Dream didn’t move. “I won’t leave without you.” It sounded like he had his mind made up. 

“Oh?” You taunted him again. “So now you need me? Now that Nada has left you? Now that you’re all alone again? Now you want your little toy back?” 

Your tone was so condescending and insulting that Morpheus visibly flinched. Again, not expecting it. Not from you. How could he? You used to be so obedient. His most well-behaved little plaything. 

He was careful when he spoke next. His voice just as steady as earlier, but colder, deeper. His cadence slower when he said, “It was her departure that brought me back to my senses. Nada was the forbidden fruit I was never meant nor allowed to have. And she left, rightfully so, because I gave her hell.” Literally. “But you,” He paused, “You were always mine. And I was to blind to see it. I cannot escape you. I’ve tried everything. I cannot let you go.” 

You had to laugh in his face. He looked offended, pissed off, and guilty all at once. 

“Truly,” Your laughter ended with giggles, "I had forgotten, and frankly I’ve missed, your theatrics.” You gave him a fake smile and said, “Leave,” You told him, “Surely this place isn’t suitable for you, my Lord.” You added, “Desire would adore this place though. They’ve always been much more fun and just better than you in every way.” You knew exactly how tense Dream and Desire’s bond was. “Go back to your castle, Morpheus, and craft away your precious dreams and nightmares. And maybe think about what you did while brooding.” 

“Careful.” He warned. 

That pissed you off. “Why? You get to be selfish, and cruel, and heartless. But I must be careful?” 

A slow blink, then he said, “You don’t belong here. Not anymore. You’ve forgotten who you are, you were almost a god once, do you remember?” 

“Don’t patronise me!” You hissed, leaning in just a little, really getting in his face to say, “I was always “almost” everything, wasn’t I, Dream? Almost perfect. Almost yours. Always, almost. But I was never good enough for you, was I?” 

“You’re angry.” Was all he said. 

“Yes, I am fucking angry.” You refused to look away from his eyes, no matter how intense his stare got. 

“Tell me how to make it better.” 

“Leave. Go away. And never, ever come back here.” 

Morpheus sighed, “And leave you alone here? In this… place?” 

You get defensive. “It’s my club. What’s the issue?” 

“This isn’t you.” He argued. 

“Oh stop it, Dream.” You almost laughed again. “Stop acting like you know me.”  

“But I do know you.” He argued in that calm, collected, annoying way of his. “I have known you for so long. You’re my oldest friend. I have known you for so long I barely remember what it was like before you. It’s almost as if… there never was a before you.” 

You scoffed. “Always so dramatic, Dream.” 

“I know I’ve hurt you. I abandoned you. I never checked in. I thought…” He closed his eyes and sighed, like it pained him to say it. “I thought you were better off without me.” 

“No,” You corrected him, “You discarded me like I was something you had no use for anymore.” 

It angered him when you threw the truth in his face. “I never asked you to leave, I never kicked you out–,” 

“You didn’t have to!” You raised your voice a little, not that it made a difference. The music, the sound of glasses clinking, the sound of laughter and soft conversations all around you concealed your anger. “It was… understood that I was nothing other than a distraction.” 

“No.” He began, “I thought you–,” 

“Oh that’s your problem, Dream. You think you know everything.” You shook your head and tried to leave, but Morpheus grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into him. “Don’t.” You said, “Don’t do this.” 

“I need you back.” He repeated his words from earlier, his one hand tightly wrapped around your wrist while his other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. 

For a moment, only for a moment you felt like you could so easily give in. His warmth, the intensity in his stare, his lean body… you almost gave in. But you quickly recovered, “It doesn’t work like that. Not here. Not anymore. You don’t make the rules here.” 

“Then make them.” He offered. “Make your rules, punish me. Use me. Take whatever you want. Hurt me, if you must. But please forgive me. And come back to me.” 

You didn’t know how it happened, but you weren’t thinking straight. And next thing you knew, your hand was firmly wrapped around his delicate neck, you squeezed just enough to surprise him yet again. “Stop telling me what to do, Morpheus.” You whispered, your voice darker than you expected. 

His hand released your other wrist immediately, almost as if in shock. “Fine.” He swallowed, whispering, “I won’t.” He was breathing heavier, you could also feel his pulse quicken. 

Could it be…? 

“You want to be forgiven?” 

“Yes.” He answered quickly, a softer look in his eyes. 

“You’re gonna have to earn it, Dream.” You knew exactly how much that would hurt his ego. He was Dream of The Endless. The Lord of The Dreaming. One of the most powerful cosmic beings to ever exist. 

Surely he wouldn’t– 

“I’ll do anything for you.” He said, surprising you yet again. “Anything.” He sounded breathless. 

— 

Finding your way to your private room was easy, and Morpheus followed you without any word said. 

And upon entering, you tried to visualise the room through his eyes. It was so obvious that this was your playroom. And he could tell. And he wasn’t entirely happy about it. You could almost hear the questions he asked himself mentally. 

Who else had you had here? Who else had touched you? How many times? Did you like it? Were they good to you? Were they better than him? 

Even as you shut the door behind you and faced him, he was so quiet – not in control for once. His unanswered questions bothered him. You could tell because he looked at you like you’d betrayed him. Like you were the one causing him pain. His stare was accusatory. You almost smirked at the thought. 

“We’ve played these games before, haven’t we?” 

“We have.” He answered, probably also thinking back to all those hours you’d spent in his bed. Always his to play with. Always ready. Always eager. 

“And you know the rules.” 

“I do.” 

You advanced towards him. “Just one little difference this time around, you are not in charge. You understand, Dream?” 

“Yes.” He stood so perfectly still, it was like he was not here at all. But he was. And he was powerful enough to leave whenever he wanted. You both knew that. The fact that he chose to still be here… it meant something. 

But you refused to give in. Not yet. So you just said, “Good.” 

He was surprised, and slightly disoriented as you led him to the soft bed and pushed him down. You climbed on top of him. You settled comfortably, your legs around his lean waist, your dress barely covering your body but neither one of you cared. 

Morpheus looked up at you with nothing but surprise, adoration, and lust. “I’ve missed you.” He murmured, as you leaned down to gently brush your lips with his. He gasped, surprised and maybe overwhelmed. His hands immediately rubbed up and down your sides lovingly. Like an old habit of his. 

“It’s funny how everyone says the same thing whenever I bring them in here and get on top of them.” You whispered, your lips brushing with his ever so gently. 

A pause. He processed, then got angry. His grip tightened as he grabbed you by the hips. “How dare you let someone else touch what’s–,” 

“Shh,” You cut him off, pulling away a little to look down at him. “Watch your tone.” You said, sternly. Morpheus tried reaching up to press his lips to yours, but you pulled away really quickly. “So bratty, Dream.” You smirked. “For someone so powerful, you’ve always been so bratty. I wonder why no one’s ever punished you for it.” 

He scoffed. “I wonder.” He taunted, his tone as pompous as always. Dream did like to gloat. 

“Drop the attitude, Dream. Else I will do something about it. And you won’t like it.” 

Morpheus smirked, with you still straddling him, your core pressing down on his crotch. “And what are you gonna do about it?” He sassed. 

Ah. Yes. He always did underestimate everyone else. You reached out and slowly traced his mouth with your finger. You spoke softly when you did. “I’ll shut your bratty mouth up. That’s what I’m gonna do.” You promised.

And there it was again. That defiance in his stare. The hunger, the lust. And the mischief as he looked up at you. You could feel his muscles tensing underneath you. You smirked when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your almost naked body on top of his. At least some things remained the same. 

“You need to learn how to not be such an arrogant fuck sometimes.” You trailed your fingertips down and back up his slender neck, making him squirm just a little as you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look you in the eyes. “Need to learn how to be less of an entitled prick.” 

Morpheus was pleasantly surprised. “There was a time you’d tell me I was perfect. That I was everything you ever wanted.” 

“I was an idiot, clearly.” 

That smirk on his pretty lips annoyed you. “No.” He dared argue, touching you wherever he could. “You were mine. You were happy. With me, by my side. Where you belong. You left and now look at what’s happened. You’ve gotten–” 

“You talk too much.” Without another word said, you grabbed both his hands and pulled them away from your body and pinned both of his wrists above his head, down on the pillows. “And keep your hands there.” You ordered. “Don’t touch me.” 

But as expected, Morpheus didn’t listen. He wasn’t used to being ordered around. So he moved his hands back on you, pulling you closer and caressing your skin. He just needed to touch you. 

But you were running out of patience. You grabbed both his hands and pinned them above his head again. “I said, keep them there.” You said slowly, in a strict voice.

He smirked at first, but upon seeing that you were reaching for the silky black ropes on the small bedside table, his smile faded at once. “You won’t dare–,” 

You chuckled, “Oh, Dream. You keep forgetting the rules.” Maybe it’s because he was in shock or maybe he finally surrendered, because he didn’t struggle as you carefully tied his wrists together. He just looked up at you with those eyes, and pouty mouth. The cool, silky rope glided against his skin. You secured his wrists to the metal headboard. 

Once done, you pulled away to get a good look at him, beneath you, tied up and pink, soft lips parted as he awaited what’s next. You smirked at how he gave you his best tortured, teary, puppy dog eyes. “There, now stay still. I don’t have much time, my… friends out there must be waiting for me.” You said, making him even more furious. One thing about Morpheus, he did not like not being a priority. Plus, you made this sound like a chore. 

He clenched his jaw.  

You felt a sudden rush at the mere thought of having him like this. Completely at your mercy. Of course, he could get out of the weak knots you tied him with in the blink of an eye. But the realization of how he chose to play along and be there, all for you to play with, filled you with pride. 

Morpheus’s face was flushed, and you could tell he was flustered and hot and bothered already – and you had barely touched him yet. “You think you can always have your way, don’t you, Dream?” Your voice barely above a whisper as you beckoned that power from deep inside you. 

After spending centuries beside the Endless and other gods, you’d learned a thing or two. You had no powers as destructive as the ones the Endless had, but magic could still be learned. And given you were no longer fully human, it came easily to you. So you perfected it. 

A wave of your hand and you were both naked, warm skin pressing against one another. Hearts racing, because while you had done this before, you’d never taken control in bed with Morpheus. And while it was a long time coming, it was still new. 

But, he deserved this. To be messed with and for once, not calling the shots. So you ignored the doubts and did what you did best. 

You put on a show. 

You settled on his right thigh. His warm, smooth skin pressing against your bare, wet core. You rolled your hips gently against his thigh and you felt the familiar tingle dance down your spine. “Fuck…” 

Morpheus watched you ride his thigh slowly, lips parted, his cock beginning to throb and leak. He knew then that this was going to be a long, hard night for him.

“You will regret this.” He said, sounding a little out of breath. His voice deeper somehow. 

You chuckled, pressing both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him right where he needed you as you worked to get yourself off by humping his thigh. “Oh, will I?” 

You were leaving behind a damp patch on his skin, breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you made yourself come. 

He watched how your soft moans got louder and how you humped his thigh faster, getting higher… and higher… you tilted your head back, purposely putting on a show just for him. “Oh,” You gasped, “Morpheus…” 

“You’re cruel.” He groaned when you whined wantonly, and he gently lifted his thigh – pressing further into your clit. He felt your wetness smearing all over his skin and he hopelessly wanted a taste. “Let me touch you.” 

“No.” 

Morpheus’s cock was leaking by the time you came undone above him, leaving him still hard and throbbing.  

“Let me…” he murmured as he watched you come down from your high. He was desperate, and hungry and he just wanted you wrapped around him. He needed to feel you, and your warmth. “I–,” 

You cut him off quickly, “Don’t make me gag you, Morpheus.” You chuckled as you slowed down and finally came to a stop, still straddling his thigh. “Let me…,” You mimicked in a voice that was sure to annoy him. “Let me touch you.” You mocked him, chuckling. “Such a brat. You’ve never known patience, or learned how to ask nicely, have you?” You smirked again, leaning in to trace his lips with your tongue, kissing the corners of his mouth. “You always just take whatever you want. You never ask, you never wait. You just take, and take, and take.” 

You gave him a brief kiss before finally wrapping your hand around his cock. He almost hissed and whimpered as he closed his eyes and gasped, relishing your touch. He felt nice and hard, and big. 

“Not so scary and mean now, are you, Dream?” You lazily stroked his length, up and down. “All tied up and helpless in my bed.” Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you kissed your way down his neck. You kissed his skin feverishly, leaving your marks behind as you bit and sucked around the base of his throat, making him shudder in pleasure and moan quietly. 

A soft chuckle left his lips. “Go ahead,” He spoke again, clearly not understanding your previous threat. Hence the condescending tone. “Use me and have your little fun, pet.” He tilted his head back, exposing his throat. 

You froze. That damned nickname. Then you pulled away to look down at him. The arrogance in his eyes was back now that the surprise had vanished. And you had to do something about that, didn’t you? 

“Oh, Dream.” You said, reaching for the nearest piece of clothing you could find. Your lacy, dark red underwear from earlier. How perfect. You held back a giggle as you balled it up and shoved it in his mouth before he could process it. And he allowed it. “I did warn you about keeping your mouth shut, didn’t I?” 

It was rare to see Morpheus so… defeated. So… submissive. You placed your palm over his stuffed mouth and said, “Now that you won’t interrupt my fun, where were we?” 

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you resumed touching him, your hand moving carefully up and down his cock. His whines were now muffled. His face in a pleasurable frown. He was… quite a sight to behold. Dream has always been so… heavenly to look at. 

Morpheus opened his eyes to look at you. His eyes were darker, his gaze more intense and he tried to thrust his cock up into your fist but then gave up because each time he did, you would just let go of him. 

“Don’t even try, Dream.” You glared at him. 

So he didn’t do anything except let you toy with him however you liked. Morpheus, arrogant Morpheus, was quiet for once. 

You chuckled each time you felt him twitch under you. You smirked as you brought him right on the edge, the sound of music from the main area of the club reached your room but it was muffled, as were Morpheus’ moans and groans. He was painfully hard and throbbing and desperate. You leaned down to kiss him on his hip bones, gentle kisses at first, which turned into greedy nips and bites until you heard him groan even more. 

Without any warning, you took him into your mouth, all of him. You placed your mouth on his tip, your tongue slowly circling his tip before you sucked him in. 

Morpheus was a mess as you took him in until he hit the back of your throat. You kept your eyes on his perfect face as you sucked on his cock. He closed his eyes momentarily, red fabric obediently stuffed into his mouth, his lips parted as he tilted his head back. 

He looked godly, even when he was tied up and powerless. 

The muffled gasps and moans which escaped his lips as he squirmed made you smirk. It only made you want to tease him even more, and keep him on the edge. It made you feel even more powerful than usual. 

Morpheus relished the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him, perfect like he had dreamt of so often over the past many, many years. 

He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum. You slowed down, not wanting to grant him the satisfaction just yet. You took him out of your mouth, licking his cock from bottom to top. Morpheus moaned, the sounds he made were weak and desperate. And so unlike The Dream King. 

He swore under his breath as you dragged your tongue over the slit of his tip lazily. You chuckled as he tried thrusting his hips up, hoping that you would stop messing with him already. Your ability of bringing him right to the edge and mercilessly keeping him there for as long as you wished to was driving him insane.

And he could break out of the bondage anytime. He knew that. You knew that. And yet, there he remained. 

All for you to play with. 

But while you desperately wanted to, you couldn’t play all night. You had your club to look after, and you had Morpheus to kick out when you were done with him. Maybe then he’d know what it’s like to be discarded once you were no longer useful. 

Morpheus lost all self-control the moment you sank down on him, your wet warmth wrapping all around him, making him groan in pleasure and sensitivity. 

You leaned in, not quite moving like how he wanted you to just yet, and caressed his pretty face, looking him deep in his pretty eyes as you took the now wet fabric out of his mouth and replaced it with three of your fingers. Sliding them gently across his tongue, in and out in slow strokes. 

Morpheus gasped, his warm breath sending shivers along your arm while you rocked your hips against his. He was quite a sight, lean body, strong, and handsome but tied to your bed. 

“Does that feel good?” You asked, moving against him perfectly, feeling him somehow get harder inside you. 

He nodded, applying just the slightest bit of suction to your fingers. You slid them deeper, messing with him. Testing. Teasing. Owning. 

You kept moving, so slowly that it was agonising even for you. And then just when you felt him twitch inside you, you lifted your hips up and pulled him out of you. You watched as he almost whined. Wild eyes, gasping for air, he was not used to this. Not used to being the one begging for someone to touch him. Just touch him. Make the pain go away. Make it feel good, please… 

“Come on,” You already knew what he was thinking. “Ask nicely, Dream.” You teased. “I don’t have all night.” You added, purposely reminding him that you’d built a life without him. “Beg me. Beg for it.” You said more sternly, whispering against his mouth, lips hovering above his parted ones. You removed your fingers and leaned in to kiss his wet, warm, open mouth ravenously. “Beg me to give you what you want.” 

“Please… I need you.” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. But you heard it. His desperation was quite clear. And he was so sensitive, from all that teasing, that once you started riding him again, he began to thrust his hips up trying to match your movements. 

But you messed with him even then, you slowed down your pace whenever he got too excited, and you sped up when he least expected it. 

“Yes,” You gasped, “This is familiar isn’t it, Dream?” 

At some point, he was nothing but a sweaty, moaning mess under you, messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. But you wanted more, you wanted to hear him whine some more, you wanted to hear how desperate he could get. 

You messed with him for as long as you could, and Morpheus got loud, very loud, growling as you teased him, and whining your name whenever you kept him on the edge for too long. Begging constantly… please, please, please. 

You alternated between having him in your mouth and riding his cock, and there was nothing else he could focus on in that moment. 

Just you. Only you. He was yours, yours to toy with and tease, yours to use as you pleased.

“Haven’t you tortured me enough?” He asked, breathless and sensitive. 

“Is it? Is it enough?” You taunted. “Do you have any idea what it was like being away from you?” Your voice cracked. “You don’t. You were busy while I was here licking my fucking wounds. Wounds I got while thinking I could ever be worthy of your love.” 

“But I’m back. And I’m not leaving this time.” 

“Yes you are.” You admitted. “You will leave the moment I’m done with you and you will never come back in my life, you hear me?” 

Your walls clenched around him, gripping him and milking him perfectly. He was completely gone, begging you to slow down when you kept riding his sensitive, throbbing cock even after he came. Once, twice. 

His heart raced, he was breathing hard and fast. 

“Please,” He begged one more time. 

You made him come again, then finally, you came right after. Both of you gasping for air. The room felt warmer, your head felt cloudy. You calmed your racing heart then grabbed him by the jaw and looked deep into his eyes while you spoke, bitterly. His hands were still tied, and they were itching to just reach out and touch you. “You don’t get to just walk in here and want me back.” 

Morpheus simply said, “But you are mine.” He argued, his voice growly like he was losing patience. 

“What kind of fucked up logic is this, Dream?” You could see how he was gasping for air, how he was unsure of what you intended to do next. So you left him guessing for as long as you could. “You and I were always like this, weren’t we? Too much. Not enough. Always crossing lines and boundaries, trapped in that vicious cycle because we couldn’t get enough of each other.” 

“Let me fix us. Come back to me. It will be different this time. I promise you. I will be yours, wholeheartedly.” 

You smiled. “No.” 

You went to get up and get out of bed. 

But everything happened all at once. Morpheus got his wrists free from the rope with efforts so minimal you gasped in shock. He reached for you, grabbed you and pulled you back in bed so quickly that you barely had time to form a thought. 

Next thing you knew, you were lying on your stomach with Morpheus’ hard, warm, lithe body on top of you, his chest pressing into your back, his hands holding you firmly. And his chuckle echoing inside your head. 

“Had your fun, little one?” He asked, keeping you trapped in his grip. “Are you done? Hmm? Are you done showing off? Are you done proving your point? Are you done punishing me for what I did? Are you done pretending you’re in control?” 

“Dream…” You gasped, feeling his hand finding its way in between your legs. And you whimpered at the feeling of his fingers touching your sensitive clit. Teasing it relentlessly as he spoke. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can do better.”

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

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

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