;winter came with fire and blood

25 years old, female, UK

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords - Masterlist

Summary: In order to keep Ravka intact, general Kirigan, the Darkling, must marry. Needless to say, he’s not happy about it, but neither is his human bride.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, sexual content, violence, death, alcohol 

Keep reading

[dreamdaddymorpheus]

fire on fire | chapter. 04 | morpheus x scarlet witch!reader

pairing: morpheus x scarlet witch!reader (she/her) warning: sm*t, br*eding k*ink, no beta we die like jessamy a/n: you gotta listen to sam smith's fire on fire, i based their entire relationship on that one song lmao aa/n: my sincerest apologies to neil gaiman, please know that i wrote this with alot of love 😭🙏🏽 previous chapters: chapter. 01 | chapter. 02 | chapter. 03

“Fire on fire would normally kill us But this much desire, together, we're winners They say that we're out of control and some say we're sinners But don't let them ruin our beautiful rhythms 'Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me And look in my eyes You are perfection, my only direction It's fire on fire.” – Fire on Fire, Sam Smith

Your relationship with the King of Dreams and Nightmares has always been a much-disputed subject amongst his siblings with the majority in opposition. If there was one thing, however, to unite them all it was the fact that Morpheus absolutely worshipped you. “Fire on fire, dear Morpheus, will kill you.” He recalled the unsolicited caution from his eldest sibling, voice as soul destroying as ever. Morpheus merely rolled his eyes at the time, petulant and arrogant, but this very moment, as he cradled your face in both hands with his lips in a desperate quest to claim yours, he couldn’t help but agree. You may kill him, indeed. To die between your thighs would be glorious – a life well spent, he thought.

His hands moved to rest on your waist as his lips slithers away from yours to leave a burning trail along your jaw down to the pulse on your neck, barely holding back a shudder from overtaking him at the way you sighed at his attentions. “We are not to be disturbed, Lucienne.” The order came from against your skin, unwilling to move and uncaring to ensure Lucienne gave them the privacy he demanded.

You heard the soft lulling sound of whirling sand before you felt the solid edge of his throne hit the back of your knees. “I thought I would never hold you again.” Morpheus whispered along the column of your throat, a touch of vulnerability overshadowing the deep hunger he felt building in the pit of his stomach. “I feared for humanity – for what I would have done to them.” Though the Endless restrained his whimpers rather well the wetness against your skin gave him away. “This madness you inspire in me would not have been merciful.” You slide your hand over the back of his neck until your fingers were partly obscured by his jet-black hair, tugging slightly at a handful as if to ground him back – back to you.

“For centuries I have denied who and what I am—“ Despair and anger bubbled in your throat in equal measure, “…pushed you away in my fear of the inevitable. Deprived myself of what rightfully belongs to me.” At this your free hand slides over his chest, clawing at the spot where his heart should be. You felt his growl ripple under your hand. “No more.” You murmured, low and airy with lust.

Morpheus truly intended to be gentle at first – but the way your scent, your warmth flooded his senses made it nigh impossible. His lips devoured yours in unrestrained lust, feeding selfishly on the soft, quivering moans that slipped past your lips. Your taste was so decadent and rare that his hunger only grew with each second, fuelling his madness. His fingers gripped the silky materials of your nightdress and with one quick tug had it discarded to the ground without even a single glance.

It thrilled him that you matched his lust, his bites, his growls with your own. Even in his war for dominance over you he couldn’t stop the way his heart swelled with love and delight. It filled him with so much pride that you refused to surrender. You were so beautiful, he thought. Untouched and unsullied for a century. A blank canvas, if you will – and oh how he ached to paint you with his marks again to further solidify his claim over your entire body and soul. There was no hope that this would be a tender lovemaking. He was far too starved for far too long.

The Endless allowed his hands to wander over the newly exposed flesh, growling as he rediscovered how soft and pliable you were. His hands moved up to trace the curves of your waist until they reached the roundness of your breast, his thumbs reaching out to draw teasing little circles over your hardened peaks, drawing out a soft cry from you.

When his ministrations suddenly stopped, he felt as well as heard your disappointment – but the Endless merely gave you a knowing smile before moving his hands to slide down your body, caressing from the dip of your waist to the flare of your hips, down, down, and down he went until he felt the wetness between your legs.

You were so wet. Morpheus could only snarl as the scent of your arousal hit his nose, completely and utterly intoxicating him. He parts your folds, searching for that sensitive little pearl that he knew would drive you to the same madness you rouse in him. He leans down to latch his mouth onto your breast as his fingers prevailed in its quest, circling the little nub until he felt your fingers dig into his shoulders, relishing the thought of your own markings on him. He would make good on his promise this day – fill you until you were full of his flesh and blood.

Morpheus felt his concentration escape him when the tip of his middle finger slipped inside your obscenely wet tightness. The heat of you almost sent him to his knees – no, heat was too mild a word. You were fire, a blazing inferno, and he craved, needed to feel you around him.

“I could scarcely think of little else all these years—” He gasped into your ear. “You feel…” Perfect, exquisite, all consuming, the words were simply far too inadequate to convey the true extent of his sentiment in regard to your sheath like quim. His finger starts its own rhythm, lazily moving in and out of your heat while his thumb amused itself by circling and flicking at your clit. Though he desired to hear your screams he contented himself with the way you seemed to be currently incapable of much else besides chanting his name like a prayer. A whisper at first, then a whine, soon a growl as your hips crashed against his fingers relentlessly as you attempt to chase your release. 

He watched in absolute awe as your face twist with pleasure, eyes fluttering close, swollen, bruised lips parting to let a desperate, wordless scream. Glorious.

Granting you no time to recover, Morpheus spun you both around and sat himself on his throne, pulling you to straddle over him. He needed to see it again lest he truly lose himself to his madness. Needed to see you come undone. On his cock.

“Tell me, my love,” He started with a teasing lilt to his voice, reaching down with one hand to free himself from his trousers, “In the imagined world I found you in, did my proxy please you?” He leans forward, pulling you impossibly closer with his other arm until you were chest to chest.

“Never.” You avowed without hesitation. Though you were deep in your delusions you could never betray Morpheus like that – your magic wouldn’t let you even if you tried. He was not just your paramour; he was one half of you. “But I did pleasure myself, if you were wondering.” At this you smirk, writhing on his lap to adjust yourself and then raising your hips slightly to hover above his cock until you felt the width of his hardness slide between your legs. “I only had to think of you, of our mischief, in this very spot in fact, or at the centre of Stonehenge, even the rather quick one against one of Lucienne’s many shelves,” You teased, eyes dancing with mischievous amusement.

“That was not a ‘quick one’.” Morpheus glared at you for that, taking mock offense at your implication. He did not take his time as he normally would in that particular memory, he admits, but he recalled being so desperate and hungry for a taste of you that he had you up and against a shelf, tomes forgotten on the table, and ate you out like a beggar at a feast.  

You merely chuckled in response, deliberately ignoring his interruption, and continued with your teasing, “My point is—I do not need a poorly made substitute of you to come undone. Just the thought of you is enough to end me.” You felt him harden even more at that – if that was even possible. He could probably leave a dent in your insides in his current state of arousal.

“Put an end to my misery, Y/N.” He begged hoarsely, and you obliged. You raised your hips, one hand sneaking between your bodies to guide his cock inside you. You watched as the King of Dreams threw his head back in pleasure, lips parted, eyes closed, savouring this feeling, this moment of being one with you once more. Inch by inch, taking your sweet time.

Morpheus could feel you twitch and stretch to accommodate his length, and the feeling of it could have consumed him – killed him, as Destiny so kindly cautioned him. Perhaps not quite the context meant, but he could have died happily like this. He felt you shudder when he was finally fully hilted inside you, your cunt rippling and shaping to his cock.

“You, my love, are the embodiment of sin.” The growl came rough and broken, his nails digging into the flesh on your hips, barely holding onto what sanity he had left to fend off the madness that threatened to take you like an animal. He didn’t have to wait long, it seems, as he could see the same desperation in him distorting your features. You tried to tease him and prolong his suffering, but he knew by the way you increased the beat of your movement that you were chasing your high as much as him. Not yet. Not until you’ve ridden him to his satisfaction, a compensation for your mischief.

Morpheus watched his beloved sob in frustration, riding him furiously and wildly, breasts bouncing with your every movement and beguiling him to suckle on a pebbled flesh, causing you to let out wonderful little whimpers. “P-Please, Morpheus—” You begged. At last, he felt you approaching your pinnacle, felt the familiar way your walls tightened around him. He slid one arm around your waist and grabbed a fistful of your hair with the other as he met your enthusiasm with equal fervour.

“Take it, my Queen.” Whether it was the relentless way he was thrusting into you or the sultry, throaty tone in which he uttered your soon to be title, but you came with a strangled cry, gasping and trembling violently. You heard him hiss into your ear as he too came spilling inside you, hissing through gritted teeth before you felt them clamp down on your shoulder. You sink into him, panting and relishing your high.

You heard that familiar sound of sand again and soon you felt the luxurious sensation of velvet hit your naked back. Above you was your lover, only better – without an inch of clothing on him.

“Again.” He demanded darkly; voice low yet no less commanding. The moment of confusion was soon clarified by the way his cock started to stiffen inside you again, as if that too was at his directive. “You will take my seed as many times as it’ll take.” He flipped you over and lured you onto your knees. “Morpheus—” You moaned, eyes hazy and vulnerable, but before you could say more you felt him pull you to the hilt of his cock. Your chanting of his name resumed, bracing yourself on your forearms and widening your stance. Yes, yes, yes, this—this felt like home. You felt his growl more than you heard it; your senses utterly skewed from his unwavering pounding. “You will be positively divine when you are round with our children.” He was incessant, single-minded in his quest to fill you with as much seed as your body could take.

Morpheus held you firmly in place by the hips as he fucked you with deep, claiming thrust, each movement hitting that throbbing bundle of nerves inside you. He would see you ruined for anyone but him. He jerked your head against his chest by the hair as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You will make me a father, won’t you, my love?” When nothing came out of you but a strangled moan, Morpheus pulled harder, “Yes?”

“Y-Yes,” He delighted in the clear, wanton desperation lacing your voice, “Let no one doubt I am yours.” Morpheus growled at this, in absolute euphoria at the thought of marking you this way. His pounding slowed, purposeful and deep, grunting each time your flesh slapped against the base of his cock. Once. Then twice. The third one was what ended him, and you, as you both threw your heads back in unison and howled each other’s names.

Dream of the Endless watched his future Queen collapse tiredly on the bed, admiring your body flushed with desire, covered in a sheen of sweat, before gathering you gently in his arms and engulfing you in his warm embrace. He smiled adoringly as you gazed up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and returned the same smile, thoroughly sated.

“I hope it’s a girl.” You said quietly, shyly, then settled back against him with your face pressed against his heaving chest.

Morpheus didn’t think his heart could swell anymore for you, yet as he stared at you for the longest time, he was glad to be proven wrong.

@lenasvoid | @iwantagoodstorytoread | @whocaresinlifeife | @starsleeping-m | @secretsthathauntus | @shitpostrandomness | @leighanne03 | @strugsto-func | @lol-im-done | @kittycatcait2 | @imissyoudarling | @toastedside | @blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm | @mysticalpandora | @blueeclipsepaperstudent | @thegreatestsandwich | @jesllianaquilesrolon | @strugsto-func | @elraeeee | @world-of-idea | @ellie-x0xo | @alanis-altair | @jupiterclipse | @existenceisatorture | @eduardaglin | @mikariell95 | @layla2-49 | @@aurorarevenclaw1927 | @dark-night-sky-99 | @itsbqueenthings | @dudde-44 | @venus-heat | scratched out urls means I couldn’t tag you for some reason, sorry!

[darkened-writer]

| Reverie of A Dream

summary || ❝You were made to dream— and the reality of this world was not for you.❞

pairing || Morpheus x Daydreamer! Reader

word count || 901

warnings || Dream being eager and curious??? Reader hates mundane life???

notes || I am currently on episode 7! So, I am still getting a grasp of Morpheus’s character and how he acts and speaks, so bear with me as I settle into his character. This could be a series if people want more than this part, so let me know! Enjoy reading!

How were you always appearing in the dreaming? 

Almost every other hour, the sand would wisp up into a flurry of particles, welcoming your arrival. The wind would pick up and there would be a shift in the air, making all creatures of the dreaming turn towards the magnificent doors that would open to welcome one and all as they explored their dream or their nightmare. But, after about twenty minutes or so— your presence would be lost. 

This confused the Dream Lord, never in his eons of living has he encountered a human with the power to enter the dreaming at will. It was known that humanity would tuck into their beds at night, shut their eyes, and the sand would create a blanket over their consciousness, and they would dream. That is how he had known it all— until now. 

“It would seem that either a human has gained untimely powers or a new endless has been created…”

Lucienne’s voice carried through the throne room, as she peered at Morpheus with eyes of concern, concern for the dreaming. Morpheus— however was curious of how a human could possibly dream during the day in such small increments. He sat clad upon the long and winding staircase that led up to his mighty throne, robes draped down some steps like a glass of spilt milk, the stained-glass reflecting various shapes onto the ground and onto both him and Lucienne. The columns on either side of the rather large room loomed above the endless— giving the two a minuscule perspective in comparison. 

“Shall we go greet our so random guest-…?”

“No, I will go to their physical form and greet them there-”

A situation like this would cause panic normally, however Dream had questions that needed answers— and he would get them from you whether you like it or not.

“Would you please look at number seven in your at-home textbooks, please.”

Eyes cast to the side, looking at the wall, all outside noise being cast out like warmth within winter, Morpheus watched you from behind, noting your neutral expression in almost concentration. Nothing could break you from your dream-like trance, until he spoke.

“Dear love, for nothing less than thee— Would I have broke this happy dream; It was a theme—”

You turned and gasped at the stranger within your home, quickly shutting the laptop as your professor was still droning on. Morpheus couldn’t lie to himself when he thought your expression was amusing.

“For reason, much too strong for fantasy, Therefore thou wak’d'st me wisely…”

“Who are you?!” You were panicked, rightfully so.

“The poems called— The Dream by John Donne…ever partake in one of his works?”

“I SAID, who are you?!”

“Dream of the Endless, and I have several questions for you, Dream Walker.”

   “It’s called daydreaming— I do NOT walk-through dreams.” You were gripping onto a mug of tea like it was an anchor keeping you still, calm. Human behavior was so very interesting, and watching you nervously explain yourself was entertaining.

“It’s erm— when you let your mind drift to another place, other than the current moment.”

“So, you have powers?”

“No! I just— You haven’t explained why you are here in the first place?! Why is my daydreaming important to you? And why are you named Dream? That’s so…odd.”

“I rule over the Dreaming, the place you go when you fall asleep at night, or in your case— every other hour.”

“How—What—” 

“And I revealed myself to you because I have never encountered someone who could enter my kingdom and leave so seamlessly without a thought.”

Your face said a million words that even you could not let out coherently, obviously the thought of meeting the anthropomorphic version of one of your favorite things to do was— how you say— alarming and daunting. But this so called “Day-Dreaming” that you did, piqued his interest greatly. His gaze caught yours looking him up and down, similar to how his many past lovers had done before he had greeted them with the dark and alluring charm he possesses, and he couldn’t help but ask a blunt question.

“Come to the Dreaming with me?”

Your eyes widened in shock— very interesting.

“I can teach you things and show you how to harness whatever ability you hold. Why stay here, in mundane living, when you can gather so much knowledge.”

He knew it wasn’t a good thing to do, bringing a human to his kingdom to be an apprentice— his family would have his head on a silver-platter, served with a cup of sand and a chuckle. But you were significant, you were—different. You were made to dream— and the reality of this world was not for you.

“Come. with. Me.” His hand was now held out, an invitation, a promise, a bond which would not be broken if you laid your hand upon his. If you took his hand, a world of possibilities would be open to you. If you held his hand, your fate would be sealed and intertwined with his, and you had no qualms about it at all— as you let the sand circle around you, the grainy and rough air whisking you from ordinary life, into one that would be complicated. But you were made to dream, and you would find more reality within a world of dreams than any other world here nor there. 

[spideybatsy]

The Deal | Dream*

*of the Endless

Summary: The worst part of Dream's imprisonment is knowing you're getting closer to death every day.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

WC: 1.3K

Warnings: a bit of angst, if I do say.

Notes: "Despite his cold exterior, Dream is often passionate and infatuated with his lovers." This is all that played in my head while I wrote this, I hope you can see it come through <3 I also looked it up and apparently dreaming of bananas means you have a good sex life, so I threw in a few (-;

His palms laid on your back, pushing you further into his chest. Despite how long you’d been pressed into him, his skin still remained cool to the touch. His plush lips rest on your forehead, his even breath fanning across your nose. 

Your nose brushed against his neck, your cheek pushed into his shoulder. One arm around his back, the other resting on his chest. You’d been like this for hours, lying in bed and sharing the occasional kiss. Nights like these were rare but beautiful.

The peace was disturbed by the sound of pecking against the window. Jessamy.

Dream sighs, running one of his pale hands down your bare arm. It was scandalous, sleeping with a man while unmarried. You look down to the ring on your finger, silver with a black stone. A small smile found its way to your lips.

Soon enough, it won't be considered improper.

“I must go, duties call.” His voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Where to this time?” Morpheus may not be human but he travels a lot for work. There’s not a spot on this earth he hasn’t seen.

“Berlin.” He brings his hands up to your face, cradling it. “A rouge nightmare.”

“Maybe one day I’ll be able to join you on your adventures,” you hum.

The corners of his lips turn up, his eyes seem brighter. “I cannot wait.”

He runs his thumb across your lips, then leans in and places a soft kiss upon them. 

“When will I see you next?” You ask, caressing his face with your hand. 

He takes a moment to think about it. “I’ll be back on Tuesday.”

Tuesday, that’s only two sleeps away. 

He moves his hands from you and runs his hands down your arms as he steps back. Your fingers intertwine with his. 

“I’ll be waiting for you.” You smile shyly up at him, give his hands a squeeze and then let go.

He returns your smile and turns away, making it a few steps before you speak up.

“Be careful, I can’t have you dying on me.” You say a tad louder, making sure he can hear it as he walks away. 

“I always am, my love.” He responds, looking back at you. “I’ll always come home to you.”

You smile to yourself as he leaves, closing the door behind him. The countdown to his return instantly starts and you begin planning what you can do. Perhaps a picnic in the park would be good, it is starting to get warm.

When Tuesday arrives, you have a basket prepared. You pack a range of cheeses, biscuits, sandwiches and even a few bananas, then wait at the door.

He never comes.

-----

By the time Dream escapes his captures, it’s been over 100 years. He cannot describe the pain in his heart. Captured, robbed, forced to watch Jessamy die and then trapped in a cage for decades. 

The worst part? Knowing you are dead.

The love of his life, the person which kept him going every day and brought out the very best in him, is gone.

Dead.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

Part of him angry with his sister, infuriated even. The other part knows that it is not her fault. This is the fault of falling for a mortal. 

He works hard and eventually gains back all his materials. Yet, the pain doesn’t fade. Every day, he thinks of you. 

Did you wait for him? 

He could ask his siblings but he’s not sure he wants to know. What would be worse, you wasting your life waiting for him, or you moving on and finding another man? 

Dream never wants to admit to weakness but this, this pain? It’s soul destroying. At least when Nada was cast to hell, he had known where she was. 

This is how he found himself in the park, feeding the birds. What was he to do now? He couldn’t move on, wouldn’t move on. 

“What are you doing?” Death asked, sitting beside him on the small bench.

The two spoke for a while before leaving. It wasn’t until the very end of their interaction, back at the park, that you came up.

“I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned your partner.”

He said your name softly, eyes beginning to water. “There’s nothing to say, they’re dead.” 

Death furrowed her eyebrows but stayed silent, waiting to see what he said next. 

“It is the pain of loving a mortal.” 

Death stopped, causing her brother to also halt.

“What are you talking about?” She sounded almost surprised. “Did you not look them up once you entered the Dreaming?”

“I could not bear to.” He admitted. “The mere thought of them hurts.”

Death sighed, “you’re an idiot. You know that?”

He didn’t respond, just furrowed his eyebrow.

“Once you’d disappeared, I went to their house.” Her voice softened. “I told of your imprisonment, and we made a deal.”

 Dream stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not a monster, you know.” She replied, shaking her head. “As if I’d let your partner die while you were unable to say goodbye. You were in enough pain, I couldn’t do that to you.”

Morpheus felt something in his heart. It was bright, warm. It was hope.

“You mean to tell me-“

“That they're are still alive? Yes.”

Dream instantly pulled out his pouch of sand, taking some of the sand out. 

“Tell them I said hello.”

-----

You didn’t notice as a figure appeared behind you, only hearing the music as you washed the dishes. Your favourite song from the olden days played, putting you in a good mood. It wasn’t very often you could listen to this genre, as it always reminded you of your long-lost love, Dream. 

He’d been gone for at least a century now; you still missed him every day. Yet, there was hope in your heart. Death, his older sister, had agreed to take your mortality. She had promised that Morpheus would one day escape and come find you.

When? You did not know. But knowing it would, was enough for you. 

As one song ended, another began. You couldn’t help but laugh when you recognised it.

“Mr. Sandman bring me a dream, make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen.” You poorly sang along, washing the plate.

“I only have myself, unfortunately.” 

Every muscle in your body froze as recognition ran through you. The plate dropped back into the soapy water, soaking your shirt.

Slowly, you turned around to face him. He looked as beautiful as the day you lost him, cheek bones high-strung and hair as black as midnight.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in, tears instantly running down your face. 

“I-“ you couldn’t speak, opting to instead stare up at him.

Has he gotten taller? His shoulders look strong in his plain black shirt, jacket discarded on the ground. 

A moment passed, then you ran into his arms. He wrapped one hand around you back, using the other one to press your face against his chest. You hung onto him, hands fisting his shirt. It felt like he’d disappear if you let go. 

He rested he cheek against your head, tears trailing down into your hair. 

The two of you stood like that for a while, grappling with your own disbelief. 

Dream pulled away first, unbothered by the tears in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry for missing our date.”

You laughed, grabbing the front of his shirt, and pulling him back into the hug.

“It’s okay.” You whispered, voice hearse. “You have forever to make up for it.” 

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine Masterlist

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Overall Warnings: Language, Explicit Material (Unprotected Sex is a No No).

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!Reader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’.

Total Word Count: ~k

Coming Soon! (As in the next coming days, maybe even later today 8/15/22)

Legend:

❗= Explicit Material Rating

☁️ Sneak Peak

☁️ Sneak Peak 2

☁️ Chapter One

☁️ Chapter Two

☁️ Chapter Three

☁️ Chapter Four

Possibly more to come

Date Published: 8/15/22

Date Completed: NOT YET COMPLETE

Last Edit: 8/15/22

[benevolentmunson-deactivated202]

Obi-wan: i know you snuck out last night, anakin.

Y/n: play dumb.

Anakin: who’s anakin?

Y/n: …not that dumb.

[alchemisoul]

[thefudge]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Six months in your world, six months in his, that was the deal. But what does a girl like you do in the dream world for six months? 

Morpheus/Reader 

part 2 of lady morpheus (oh no, you guys, this is now a series) 

[starlightofsolaria]

hop on this wagon rn 😭 fucking ✨ perfection✨

[clints-lucky-arrow-deactivated]

exit light, enter night. || [1.]

morpheus “dream” of the endless x f!reader.

He’s determined to hate you. Unfortunately, fate has other plans. There’s only so long that one—even Dream of the Endless—can stave off the inevitable.

Reluctant Allies to Lovers. Grumpy x (Somewhat) Sunshine. Unwilling Soulmates.

WORD COUNT: 7.6k

WARNINGS: Explicit 18+ ONLY; Enemies to Lovers Elements; Slight Tinges of Toxicity; Angst (Honestly, These Two Will Give You Whiplash); mentions of Blood; Biting/Marking; Vaginal Fingering; Oral Sex; Other Potentially Non-Exhaustive Warnings: Read at Own Risk. The Sandman (2022) Spoilers; Not Beta Read.

MASTERLIST || NOTIFICATIONS

Support your content creators! Likes are appreciated, but comments and reblogs are golden!  

A/N: Let’s be very clear up front. I am only halfway through the season and I’ve never read the comics. All of this could be extremely innacurate in the lore— but a reminder that this isn’t to be taken too seriously. It’s fanfiction. A bit of fun. I’ve given you this little PSA so you know what you’re getting into.

“Are you going to let me go yet?” It’s a question, but not you’re not scared of the answer.

Dream of the Endless may be a god. Silent, mysterious, and most likely still vengeful— but right now, he needs you. It’s not often that one comes across someone with the gift of True Sight and Travel. You’re a Lucid Dreamer, as unpracticed as any might be, but it still gives you power in all realms. The ability to untether one’s own soul is rare, and all too useful.

So, his reply is not a surprise. “Your Order still has a debt to repay.”

Keep reading

[memeuplift]

[guccikadearts]

[daddyjackfrost]

darling ; dream x f!reader

-> sandman masterlist

The Dreaming, a realm of dreams and nightmares, was the home to many, including Dream of the Endless and his wife, Lady of The Dreaming.

In contrast to her husband, Lady of The Dreaming was a soft and gentle soul. The light to his dark. The dream to his nightmare. While Dream managed everything that occurred in the night, the nightmares and creatures, His Lady managed The Dreaming in the day, the more mundane of dreamers. Those who drifted in and out of their realm; the children, the elderly, and the night owls.

It was a good life. A happy, loving, joyful life. One that Morpheus and his Lady wouldn’t have traded for anything. They were content, and so in love.

Until the King of Dreams and Nightmares was captured. For over a century.

80 years later…

Lucienne, the head librarian of The Dreaming, paced in front of the crumbling library doors. The library was one of the only places in The Dreaming that remained upright. As the rest of the realm withered away, Lucienne and the Lady tried their best to keep the Library—Morpheus’s favourite place—as intact as they could. All their belief and love was channeled towards the tower filled with books as old as time.

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[elusive---ivory]

Ok, we need to throw away the whole tag now

[starlightofsolaria]

never went dry this fast before 🤢

[the-darklings]

♱. holy

◜KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

♡ week 1, day 3

♡ pairing: the elder/v (coa)

♡ warnings: explicit (18+), body worship, dark!v, power play, exhibitionism/voyeurism, kinda a sex ritual?

♡ word count: 2.1k+

♡ song rec: you belong to me by cat pierce

Wind caresses your skin. Like the leisurely fingers of a lover, they brush over every crevice, every nook of your naked body, sparking sensation after sensation in your limbs.

You’ve been waiting for this. Preparing for days. It was nothing to concern yourself with, in truth. The Elder kept insisting it was not something you had to follow through on, but you didn’t want to go forego this particular tradition for a reason. The expensive, silk curtains surround you from all sides. Enclosing you in a circle, an eye of the would-be storm.

Behind them, you feel eyes. The curtains are enough to obscure, blur just enough. While still leaving all of you bare to the viewing eye. It’s exhilarating. Blood pounds in your ears. The heat of the desert climate only helps to dry your mouth further. How many are viewing your naked body right now? It’s hard to tell. You know the Elder follows traditions strictly — that, in theory, it should only be his inner circle. A sacred act of trust. These men are to devote their whole lives, their very blood, in the act of service to you.

You can imagine grim, worn faces who have known suffering and pain, now observing you. Your chest stutters, the oxygen suddenly hard to hold. Your fingers twitch at your sides, and your tongue wobbly wets your cracked lips for what feels like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. Sprawled on pillows and silks, surrounded by gold, with air holding the scent of incense thick in the air, you feel near dizzy. It’s evening now. Dying rays of the light no doubt illuminate your naked outline to the men watching you.

Still, nothing happens. No hands ravage you. No whispers mock you or question you. The men are utterly silent, and your muscles tighten with anticipation. You know this much is the point. Beauty in the eye of a beholder.

“You,” a low, accented voice drawls from behind you, and you feel your fingers knot into the silky material beneath you. “Are truly divine, viper. Crafted to be worshipped. Adored. Do you hear how silent my men are? I reassure you, it’s not only because they’re wondering what it would be like to taste you. To feel you. But also because they’re in awe of you.”

A rustle of cloth drags across the floor. You feel and hear the vibration, the rustling when he ambles closer. The Elder’s steps are near-silent otherwise. Your trained assassin ears pick up on it but only because every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of him. Of others.

His frame appears above you, still clothed, finely sown robes of all white. You wore a white cotton dress before you laid down too, slipping it off you with deliberate slowness.

He kneels beside you, peering down at your face. There is no light in his eyes. Only hazy, undiluted lust swims there. Then, with lover’s attentiveness, he permits his eyes to drag over your figure. Slow, appreciative, starved.

“Divine,” he repeats again, his voice soft.

You want to remind him he’s seen you like this. Seen you in many positions. All of them naked. Yet words don’t come. This time is different, you’re intimately aware of it, because this time you will be tied to him for the rest of your life. His tribe will belong to you as you will them. There is no backing out now.

“Shall we begin?”

A shuffle of feet behind you registers and your spine locks. You didn’t realise someone else was going to be inside this circle of curtains and cashmere. Observe as the man above you fucks you right in front of everyone.

“Yes.”

Saad’s voice rumbles through your bones, echoing. Something about him being here promptly puts you on edge yet the spark you feel in your lower gut speaks for itself. He’s hardly at the top of your favourite people list. Or you his. But he’s the Elder’s closest here at the camp outside of Rafik who could not come for the ceremony.

How many times has Saad listened to you and the Elder tangled in each other fucking with wild abandon? How many times has he heard you moaning and coming undone? How many tiny slips of naked skin has he caught glimpses of whenever the tent entrance slipped open?

A hot tongue against your thigh makes you jerk and a shiver races down your spine. The Elder hums quietly under his breath, his chest vibrating against your skin with the sound, and you shudder.

“Let them see,” he breathes and you turn your head to watch him, parting your legs, slotting between them, shrugging off his layers one by one. Saad is behind him, helping him with each. “Let them hear you.”

“Let them fuck me too?” you pose.

It’s not the purpose of this, and you doubt he would be happy with the idea — others can observe, savour, but respect the fact they will never get to touch you the way he does.

“They already adore you,” he admits, his voice deepening, his accent softening his words into a caress. He kisses you again, higher on your thigh, almost at the hip now. His fingers slide past your clit, parting your folds with ease, and you suck in a sharp breath. “They would do anything for you. Kiss your feet if you asked them. Kill for you. If you wished them, if you accepted them into your bed, they would be honoured to have the privilege. This is my present to you, viper. You will never again be alone.”

Soft, lingering kisses and tongue follow. Your body becomes a canvas for his worship. His mouth is an artist's brush, detailing every detail of your body. He lingers on your breasts the longest, squeezing them appreciative. Lick after lick, suck after suck. You’re more than ready for him, your haggard breaths become seething, impatient hisses. You can hear others. Their own growing strain to be witnessing your withering body, hands searching, seeking.

“Get on with it,” you order when he settles in the crook of your neck. “I’m starting to grow as impatient as our audience.”

“You will receive your release, viper,” he promises, sucking on a patch of your sensitive neck, his stubble burning against your skin. As if sensing the lingering pleasure it gives you, the Elder kisses harder, with a whisper of teeth, allowing his stubble to scratch and dig deeper. Your skin is undoubtedly marked now. “When I say you can.”

Your bare legs lock around him, your fingernails sinking into the back of his neck. “No,” you breathe into his ear, your voice venomous. “You will fuck me right now, or you can take the rest of your tribe to bed instead.”

You tease a kiss over the shape of his ear, pressing a playful, nipping kiss to it. The Elder’s steady breaths falter for the first time since you began. There’s palpable tension in the tent. Others are no doubt wondering what’s happening between you. They can only see shapes, some details, but it’s not something that will stop the men from putting their own pleasure first.

“Hold her.”

This time the Elder’s voice rings as a resounding command, the type that shoots straight through you, sinking into your bones. Your wrists get snatched from around the Elder’s shoulders promptly, securing them above your head.

“If you are in such a hurry to be taken for my men to witness, let it be so,” he muses tightly, his palms gliding across your body, messaging and stroking against your curves. Saad’s powerful, stony features appear above you, your wrists locked in his hold. “You alone, V. No else. If you feed the hungry they will always come back to you. Remember that.”

His member appears in his hand from between the fold of his robes, erect and head already weeping with precum. Staring him down, you nudge your legs further apart, hitching an eyebrow and shooting another cutting stare Saad’s way. The man glares down at you, his face still empty of emotion. But he’s still just a man. And you’re a woman, naked, splayed out in front of him, with multiple eyes focused on you. He’s far from indifferent. His jaw is clenched so harshly it’s as if he can’t stand the idea of letting his own need slip out and show.

The Elder sinks into you from tip to hilt, his expression edged with darkness still lingering in him after your previous comment. Removal of your being from his side is the steepest price he could ever pay. And the only one he has never so much as indicated as being willing to pay in earnest.

No matter the fact that he’s the most powerful man in the world, you’re the one with power here.

These men are your men now. He is yours. So is Saad. Only a matter of time until he too accepts it. It’s already alive in him, that seed.

Your hips lock, grinding into each other — bone and skin and friction — and you bare your teeth at the sensation of fullness, the foreign stretch inside you. Your hips rotate, moving at your own pace, but his hand latches onto your waist, ready to keep you in place. You’ve never been one to comply easily though. This much he should be acquainted with by now.

You shove your body at him, jolting the rigid length of him inside you. You’re drenched, more than ready, and clench around him on purpose, delighting in the way tendons inside the Elder’s neck tighten with the move. A furrow of his brow — now damp with sweat — betrays his displeasure, his reluctant appreciation at this open challenge.

Saad’s grip on you is so firm your fingers are starting to go numb at the tips but it only makes you grin harder. Sharp-toothed and vindictive.

Your breasts ripple with every jerky, teeth-clenched controlled move, and your back arches. Burn of fabric feels delicious, adding fuel to your building pleasure. You would love to know how many are appreciating the sight of you like this. Spread-out, moaning wantonly, demanding and moulding the Elder to your will, to your whims. Tradition or no, you’re making this ceremony your own.

This is not some saintly act of claiming an innocent maiden.

You’re letting them see you like this because it will always live inside them. The Elder was right in that regard.

They will always crave more, want more. Unabashedly naked skin, your building orgasm — they’re all a small price to pay for such loyalty, such desire, such fierce obsession.

On his knees, the Elder stares down at you as if you’re his damnation, his thumbs hooking deep into the skin of your hips, holding you to him. A foolish man using a butterfly net to contain a hurricane. He’s drinking in every forced lurch of your hips to meet his rapidly building thrusts. Devouring them with the appetite of a starved man. In many ways, he is.

I could take them from you. All of them. One by one. Make them love me more than they’ve ever loved you. You know it, don’t you?

He does. You know he does. He just wanted you first. Saw in you something you needed time to recognize in yourself over the damage once inflicted upon you. It has blinded you to who you are, what you could still become.

“Deeper.”

He obliges you.

“Harder.”

It’s practically a snarl. He obliges you again.

You’re fucking at this point. There’s no sacred hesitation or dainty touches. Only instinct, only hunger and sweat. Your legs around his hips, nesting him so deep inside you every inch of his member registers with every press and retreat. Every stroke, every wet, slippery sound you both create. The musk of sex, of raw blinding debauchery, permeates the air and a laugh tickles through your lungs, climbing up your throat.

Saad’s pinched breaths above you only propel you further, your eyes lazily sliding over his strained features with a saccharine grin.

Your orgasm pierces through you like a lash of a whip; fierce, sudden. It stiffens every muscle in your body. You coil in your spot like your namesake. Purposely, you don’t look at the Elder, groaning and fighting back his own release — a thick, hot addition of his cum now steadily pooling inside you with his stuttering thrusts — instead turning towards the curtains, towards your audience. You moan for them, ride out your orgasm for them, withering. Your being softens and dilutes for them, seducing them deeper. Few, muffled groans sound on the other side of the wall of material and you let your eyes flutter shut. Satisfied, victorious.

Mine, mine, mine.

[the-darklings]

to add onto my question of V x The Elder... can't you perhaps make an angsty au! where V, hypothetically speaking, is the wife of the elder 😗 you don't have to do it, i just feel like there is SO MANY possibilities with V x [anyone]... it's INSANE... anyways thank you for answering my question! it made my day (or night) and im smilling from ear to ear my cheeks hurt ❤️

ALRIGHT!!! OKAY!!! COME AND GET SOME!!!

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[the-abyss-of-fandoms]

Y/N looking at John: You're very attractive John. You're a very handsome man.

John shows Y/N some photos of himself used in an old portfolio:

Y/N: NOW LETS SEE THAT PEN-.

John blushes kissing Y/N quickly: Y/N n-not now.

[t-rexs]

Ok but imagine

it’s Sunday morning and you’re sitting on the counter top with your man standing in between your legs. He’s letting you shave his face and while you are staring intensely at his face cause you’re concentrated on not cutting him, his hands hold your waist or hips and he stares at you with so much love and a hint of amusement.

and that ladies and gents is my love language

[the-abyss-of-fandoms]

John checks on Y/N:

Y/N chews on some popcorn: Are you looking for a wife?

John: What?

Y/N: You know a wife.

John: I am fighting for our lives right now.

Y/N: So no?