Warnings: Dark Dream/Morpheus x Fem Reader, Smut, Obsession, DubCon,NonCon captivity, manipulation, Possessive Dream, Oral (Male Receiving)
Summary ~ He lost a queen to fire and time. He won’t make the same mistake again.
He first saw you as a flicker, a faint, fragile light, caught in the corner of a stranger’s dying mind.
Morpheus had not meant to look. He drifted through the fractured dream of a man on the precipice of death, pulled only by the heavy gravity of grief. The man fell endlessly, tumbling down an infinite stairwell of regret and breathless pain. His death was certain. It would be meaningless.
A warm hand, a gentle voice, a smile that shone like a beacon in the dark alley. You knelt beside the bleeding man, holding his hand with such fierce tenderness, whispering that help was coming, that he mattered.
That light, the stubborn glow of hope and compassion, refused to fade.
Not with the cold eyes of a predator, but as a witness. Through the eyes of the lost, the broken, the fragile souls perched on the edge of despair.
In the days that followed, he found himself drawn to your mind, a presence at the edges of your dreams. He was a shadow you could not see, a guardian angel hovering just beyond your awareness.
You dreamed of the ocean, of the open sea. It was your mind’s refuge, a place of salty air and endless horizons, where waves whispered secrets you couldn’t quite grasp.
One night, barefoot on the wet sand, water brushing your ankles, you sensed a presence behind you.
A tall figure stood there, robed in black, long coat trailing behind him like smoke caught in a slow dance with the wind. His eyes were deep pools of shadow and stars. His face was a silhouette, shifting between something human and something otherworldly.
“Who are you?” you asked, voice barely more than a breath.
He was silent for a long moment.
“Are you an angel?” you ventured, searching for something familiar in the darkness.
“No,” he said finally. “I am the one who came before angels.”
You thought of him as a guardian, a protector who watched over you in the night. You never heard him give a name. You only felt the weight of his presence, a silent promise that you were not alone.
You began to look forward to the nights when he appeared. His visits were your secret comfort, a balm to the loneliness creeping through your waking hours.
Sometimes, you whispered to yourself in the dark, I wish you were real.
Unbeknownst to you, he was listening.
Each time, he came closer.
Still, he never touched you. Until one night—
It happened in a place unlike any you had ever seen, a throne room forged from shadow and marble, stretching infinitely beneath a sky of stars and ink. The air was thick with memories, soft and strange.
You stood naked at the center, the cool air drifting through the gothic windows sending goosebumps racing across your skin.
“I should not be here,” you whispered, voice trembling.
“But you are,” he answered, stepping from the shadows. His long coat billowed behind him like smoke, his form more silhouette than man.
His fingers brushed your shoulder first, cold as winter’s breath, delicate enough to shatter your skin.
“Why me?” you asked, breath caught.
He pressed his lips to the pulse at your throat.
The room shattered, dissolving into grains of sand.
Beneath him, your body melted in to his, hungry, restless, and completely undone.
His mouth trailed a path of flames along your neck, tongue flicking over your collarbone like a signature etched in smoke and desire. He whispered words older than time, ancient prayers that hummed against your skin.
“You don’t know what you do to me.”
His hand slid between your legs, deliberate and reverent.
His fingers danced along your folds, coaxing tremors and wetness until your thighs quivered beneath him.
You moaned softly. “Please.”
He smiled against your throat, his voice dropping to a whisper thick with command and promise.
“Say my true name. Say it, and I will be yours.”
You hesitated, caught in the dream and caught in him.
“Say it,” he whispered again, voice dark and irresistible. “Say it and I will never leave you.”
“Morpheus—” The name slipped from your lips like a spell.
He growled low in your throat, kissing you with a centuries-old hunger unleashed at last.
When he entered you, it was not gentle.
Every movement carved into your soul, each stroke deep and measured as though claiming your essence itself.
“You are mine,” he whispered between thrusts, voice dark and possessive.
You cried out, nails raking his back, legs tightening around him.
“I dreamed of this,” he confessed. “Of you. Of having you like this. Forever.”
You shattered beneath him, moaning, begging, lost in the relentless tide of pleasure.
His release came with a groan, part grief, part rage, part relief.
You woke soaked in sweat, tangled in sheets that could not hold you from him.
But you had said his true name.
And with that, the veil was lifted.
You were brushing your teeth when the mirror fogged, swirling into darkness.
When the mist cleared, he stood behind you.
“Morpheus?” you whispered, voice trembling.
“You said my name,” he told you. “In the dream world. You called for me.”
You tried to step back, disbelief burning in your eyes.
But he was before you in an instant.
His hand cupped your face, cold as frost but tender as a vow.
“I am real,” he said. “And you are mine.”
“You dreamed of me,” he said, voice velvet wrapped in thunder. “You opened the door.”
“Do you know what happens when humans dream too much of gods?”
Your eyes widened in terror.
A realm of shifting marble, endless skies of ink and stars, corridors that breathed like living things.
He crowned you with shadows woven like silk.
Dressed you in moonlight and silver thread.
“Goddess of Dreams,” he called you.
“Beloved of the Endless.”
You had no throne of your own.
You always stood beside him.
You wandered rivers that sang lullabies, palaces within palaces, bathed in light that was not light.
You were worshiped by creatures born from dreams.
Each night, he took you again.
In libraries thick with dust and ancient tomes.
He recited verses between your thighs.
You came undone to his voice.
You came to love and fear his touch.
He owned you in ways you could not name.
One night, your voice broke, desparate, pleading for a life that you once had.
“Please let me go back?” you begged, your voice trembling with tentative hope.
He held you close, one hand wrapped around your hip, the other brushing your hair away from your face.
“I lost a queen once,” he whispered, voice heavy with regret. “To fire. To time. To my own pride.”
“But that no longer matters.”
His breath was warm against your neck.
“Because I dreamed you into being. The way you are. The one I need.”
“What happened to my body?” you asked, voice trembling. “In the Waking...am I still there?”
Instead, his mouth found your breast, warm lips closing around your nipple, tongue teasing in slow, deliberate circles. You gasped, your question faltering as pleasure bloomed through your body, hot and dizzying.
His hand slid to your lower back, holding you against him as his mouth worked you deeper into silence.
“You are here now,” he murmured against your skin, voice like velvet and smoke. “With me. That’s all that matters.”
You tried to remember what you were asking. Tried to hold on to fear, to reason—
But his tongue flicked again, harder, and everything else vanished.
“You are mine,” he whispered.
Then his hand pressed over your chest, right above your heart.
“And now,” he said, dark and certain, “you dream of me.”
You thought you could be clever.
You thought Desire would help.
They came to you in your dreams, smiling like sin, lounging in the silk of your borrowed bed.
“You’ve tasted one Endless,” they purred, fingers trailing your cheek. “Don’t you want to know how the other feels?”
And Desire heard everything you didn’t say.
They offered you escape. Whispered a price. Whispered pleasure. Whispered freedom.
You ran with your shadow pressed against theirs, heart beating like you still owned it. You weren’t dreaming of Dream anymore , you were dreaming of choice.
But Morpheus is the Lord of Dreams.
You were foolish to think he wouldn’t find you there.
Your knees hit the floor with a crack that echoed through the throne room.
And now you were dragged back, bruised, breathless, humiliated, before the only Endless who had ever truly possessed you.
Morpheus stood above you, his silhouette carved in rage and shadow, his eyes storm-dark and bottomless.
“You swore yourself to me,” he said, voice low and shaking. “I named you queen. I gave you everything. And you threw it in my face.”
Your throat was still raw from screaming.
He stepped forward, unfastening the buckle of his coat with slow, deliberate hands. When it fell open, you saw the rigid outline of his cock, thick, flushed, already aching.
“You told Desire,” he murmured, crouching slightly so you had no choice but to meet his eyes, “that you would sleep with them.”
You shook your head, trembling. “I never—”
“You didn’t say the words,” he hissed. “But you wanted to. You would have. You thought he would help you leave me, that I wouldn’t be able to find you, that I wouldn't know of your betrayal.”
He cupped your cheek roughly with one hand, forcing your face up. The leather of his gloves scraped your skin.
He undid the fastening of his trousers.
You swallowed hard, your body buzzing with dread and heat. His cock sprang free, long and thick, already leaking. He wrapped his hand around it once, twice, guiding the tip to your lips.
“I just wanted to be free
" I'm sorry”, you cried out, desperation in your voice.
His eyes were fire now. Cold fire. “Then kneel like you mean it.”
“I should throw you to the nightmares,” he growled, cock already hard, flushed, throbbing with anger. “Let them watch what happens to those who betray the King.”
You tried to scramble back, but the nightmares held you still.
He grabbed your hair, dragging you forward until your lips hovered over him.
“You wanted Desire’s mouth?” he hissed. “You wanted their praise?”
He forced your mouth open with two fingers. “You’ll take mine.”
Then he shoved himself into your mouth, rough, punishing, devastating.
You choked instantly. Tears blurred your vision. But he didn’t slow.
“Let them watch,” he growled. “Let the Dreaming see what you are.”
He fucked your mouth like he owned it, like he was branding you from the inside out. Every stroke hit the back of your throat. Your jaw ached. Your eyes watered. Drool spilled from your lips, down your chin, and onto your chest.
Your nails clawed at his thighs, but he only growled.
“Take it,” he snapped. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Desire’s mouth on yours, Desire’s name on your tongue—”
He pulled all the way out, and you coughed, gasping.
“—But now you choke on mine.”
He slapped the head of his cock against your spit-slick lips, smearing you with his arousal.
“Look at you,” he muttered. “On your knees. Crying. Wet.”
And you were wet. Pathetically, humiliatingly soaked between your thighs, your body reacting despite everything. You tried to close your legs, to hide it, but he noticed.
“Oh,” he said darkly. “You like this.”
His hand slid between your thighs without warning. Two fingers pressed against your panties, drenched. You whimpered.
He smirked. “Desire wouldn’t make you this wet. No one would.”
Then he shoved back into your mouth again, rougher now. Faster. Like he needed to fuck the betrayal out of you.
Your throat clenched around him. You gagged. He moaned.
“Good girl,” he murmured, hips snapping forward, hand tightening in your hair. “You take me so well. You always do. That’s why you’re mine.”
Your tears ran hot, but your thighs pressed together in shameful pleasure.
You were choking on him, your own hand now between your legs, grinding against your palm, desperate and ruined.
“I should never let you wake,” he growled. “I should keep you like this forever. On your knees. Full of me.”
He twitched in your mouth, cock thickening.
You moaned as his release hit your tongue, hot, bitter, endless.
He stayed buried in your throat as he came, groaning like it hurt, like it healed. You swallowed around him, tears streaming from your eyes, body trembling as his hips finally slowed.
When he pulled out, a long string of spit and cum trailed from your lips.
He dragged his cock across your cheek, then tapped your mouth again.
You licked him clean, obeying, because he’d taught you to.
Because the Dreaming had broken you into obedience.
Because deep down you still wanted him.
Even now. You were bound to him.
Morpheus looked down at you, cock still hard, face unreadable.
“You will not speak to my sibling again.”
He smoothed your hair back, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “Good girl.”
He reached out a hand. You slowly took it, shaking, uncertain.
He led you out of the throne room, away from the eyes of the Dreaming, toward his personal chambers.
You wanted to resist. You wanted to run.
Because you are his dream.
And he is your nightmare.
