#the endless x reader

[yiminsuu]

Bittersweet Dreams

Pairing: Dream/Morpheus x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst with fluff, strained mother/daughter relationship, Morpheus and reader are bad at love, mutual pining, mentions of Calliope, reader is a medium, Death is the best.

Author’s Note: Gosh I absolutely loved The Sandman, I wish for a 2° season soon!

The sky cries shiny drops of water, illuminated by the full moon that seems to ignore all possible ways of hiding behind clouds. Laying on my bed with a blank expression, I woke up from another nightmare, a dream in which I was too cruelly suffering my worst feelings. No one came to help, no one came.

Did Dream forget about me...?

My heart ached, and I felt so overwhelmed by that thought alone that I couldn't help but fall to the ground when I tried to stand. So I stayed where I am and waited, and waited, and waited...

My nails felt cold, goosebumps appeared on my skin rapidly as someone translucent, someone that looked young, did their best to help me stand up. I don't know them, and they didn't let me see them either as if afraid of my reaction. However, they always appeared whenever I thought of him with sadness, and whispered so softly to not lose hope. I received an unwelcome letter not many days ago, with no address or sender, but it struck me so profoundly I couldn't breathe.

Calliope is beautiful, a daughter of Zeus, the love of Morpheus and the mother of the child they both lost. Grief and mourning reuniting ex-lovers are common and understandable, and I wish for nothing more than Dream to be okay, but I know... I know that I have nothing to do with it.

I felt my heart break, and a small whisper caught my attention, a whisper so mild and sweet it sounded familiar. Deciding to push myself through that person, I walked to the kitchen in complete darkness. They were gone, perhaps disappointed at my actions. Hell, I'm disappointed too, for thinking about him, for remembering every second, minute, hour and day I spent with him, helping him be the King of Dreams again...

And... That time we almost...

The sound of the microwave stirred me from daydreaming. I took the coffee and for an unknown amount of time I stood in place, glaring slightly, I watched the light of the kitchen blinking until it broke, and shards fell to the ground.

The stars never shined as bright as this type of night, then again, it's always like this whenever I'm visited by a form that should've crossed the other side a long time ago.

Death promised.

She promised she would take my mother away to the other side, but I can't blame anyone, mom was always the one that never let me live... Not without regrets, guilt, and hatred. Chuckling half-heartedly, I took a sip of my hot coffee and burned my tongue, hardly caring that tears fell down my cheeks. I am against drinking my problems away, and I am not good with human relationships, not since my last job. A job in which I was fired for not having sex with my boss. "Took you long enough, she's been annoying me for the last 4 hours." I muttered with a hint of exasperation. If I can see the dead then of course I would feel Death strolling around.

She didn't say anything for some time. "Your mother is... Stubborn. I didn't think she would escape just to see how you are."

"She wants to see me as depressed as ever, maybe this is the last time I see her and I feel incredibly uncomfortable. She stinks of poison." Death didn't take long in taking that woman away, and she came back 20 minutes later to sit in front of me, the cup of coffee long forgotten. Once more, we were alone, and I know what she wanted: To speak about me... And Dream.

"Death--"

"Let me speak." I shut my mouth closed. There was a small smile on her lips, and the kindness in her eyes is evident, but her tone is... Anything but friendly. "You cannot keep doing this, (Y/N). Guns and knives aren't the only cause of death in the world, and you, you that is so willingly sensitive to the other side... It's possible to die of a broken soul. A broken heart." I know how right she is, damn if I know how much this is mentally consuming me, but Dream is... Out of my reach. His everything will always belong to her. "I know... But I can't."

"You can't? Or you don't want to?"

"I can't, AND I don't want to. It won't matter in the end, I'm not immortal, I'm not like you. I am a human with a fucked up bloodline." Death stared at me with no emotion. "I will die." I continued. "Don't you think I should suck these emotions in? And bury them as far as Hell is so I won't see one more tear in his eyes? Half of his siblings want him gone, his son is dead, he was imprisoned for 100 years...! He's had enough! My problems are nothing compared to his, besides... I already know what his answer is... All he does is give me nightmares..." The silence is unbearable, I had looked away long before finishing my sentence, Death is still staring at me with almost no emotion except for her mouth slightly open, and letting out an exhaled to finish the conversation. 

The lights flickered wildly before coming to a stop as the chocolaty figure was about to leave. "Do you remember what your father said? About love...?" I didn't respond, and she was gone.

Friction makes affection. 

But does my dear king feel the same affection...?

I couldn't sleep the next night either, I spent all day helping a family come to terms with the death of their sons and it left me bothered. I knew something bad would happen, but I didn't know it would be me that would be left so empty. The smile those children gave me when they departed... I...

"(Y/N)."

I jumped on my chair before turning at the source of the voice, the last person I wanted to see. "Dream..."

He remained quiet as he watched my expression intently, and I quickly realized I was crying. Dream took a few steps toward me but I backed away, making him stop abruptly. "A job... It took a turn on me. D-Do you need something?"

"The Corinthian." I inhaled heavily at that name. "Death found a body left by it, there was no soul to be collected. I need you to look for it." He finished and I sighed, I knew it was going to be a tough job to look for a scared soul. That monster has been nothing but a nuisance ever since he got out of Dream's realm. "Alright, but please, let me become a person before going out there--" A grip on my arm made me stop in my tracks, and I glanced up at the king to find him staring into my eyes. My heartbeat increased and my brows furrowed with shyness. "The nightmares." He paused for a small moment. "They weren't on purpose."

"They weren't on purpose? I've been plagued with those for over 3 weeks and that's all you have to say!?" I needed to shout out my pain at his irresponsibility, but in the end, I had to calm down. "I haven't slept at all..."

"I know." He said, almost too gently. None of us said anything afterward, I don't know how much time has passed, and more tears danced down my cheeks. Dream's touch held a flame that burned me as I got dangerously closer to him, my head rested on his cheek as he placed his hand on my hair. I embraced his torso softly and relaxed, hearing his low hum, a sound of approval at me returning the affection.

Affection...

"What have I done to deserve such nightmares...?" I muttered. The king held me in place, I didn't dare push away, and I didn't care if I was being selfish. I only want him to stay a little longer. "You are connected to me... And I made sure it would remain like that." I looked at him slowly and felt his hands on both my cheeks, my eyes widened. "What I saw... Were your personal nightmares...?" Dream didn't say anything, and only stared at me before uniting our foreheads.

He's... Scared of losing me, and I him.

"Dream... I've always been yours. But I beg you, don't give me more nightmares." My hands came up to his cheeks, and he closed his eyes as he felt me, his thumb cleaning away my tears. My beloved Morpheus. "My queen, I won't let anyone hurt you. You are mine, for as long as I live."

[waywardsummoner46]

Awake, Evader of the Endless

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x reader, extremely dark!Endless x reader

Summary: Dream glided towards you with as much grace as a King. He towered over you, looked down at you from his nose - you were beneath him in more ways than one, of that you knew. Didn’t mean you had to like it. Cruelly, he smirked and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I will enjoy this, little deceiver.”

  ...Hell erupted inside of you; you could feel your organs burning within your body, slowly, so agonisingly slowly, were they burning and melting and disintegrating. Blood formed inside of you and there was nowhere for it to go apart from up up up up out of your mouth, your nose, your eyes. 

...Pools of blood formed around you and as you lay in the remains of your organs, all the while wondering distantly how you were still alive without a heart… you wished for Death. 

Word Count: 4481

Warnings: EXTREMELY DARK, graphic descriptions of being skinned alive, organs burning inside of a body, hair falling out, nails being torn, vomit, threat, blood and gore, non-consensual touching, mind fuckery

A/N: This is, believe it or not, only the tip of the iceberg. I felt ill writing this so I warn you PLEASE ONLY READ IF YOU ARE NOT FAINTHEARTED. I genuinely can’t believe I wrote this. Thank you for your support and let me know what you think.

Weightless. 

  You felt weightless, as though there was nothing burdening your tired shoulders.

  Silent.

  Everything was silent, as though the world outside had stopped to give you peace at last. 

  Darkness.

  You saw darkness, as though a warm blanket had shielded your eyes from their surroundings. 

  Void.

  Only a void was left, as though you were the only one in a vast universe. 

  … Anxious. Afraid.

  Something was wrong, as though the world outside had stopped; as though a cold, misleading blanket had restricted your eyes from their surroundings; as though you weren’t the only one left in a vast universe. 

  Air rushed back into your lungs quicker than you could comprehend and you sat up heaving for breath. A queasiness made its way through your body and before you could even try to suppress the rising vomit in your throat, you wretched all over the floor you were sitting on. The urge to vomit again arose once the smell wafted to your nose and you struggled to remember what the hell had happened before now. 

  After spitting the remaining bile from your mouth, you raised a trembling hand to rub your eyes; you remembered meeting up with Gabe in a pub and talking about a random theory you had, then you went up to the bar to get some drinks. After that, though, you couldn’t remember anything at all as to what happened in that pub for you to wake up like this. 

  Undoubtedly, the nausea that had calmed only slightly had been caused by something and the uneasy feeling in your gut told you it wasn’t because of the drinks.

  With that thought, you focused on your growing dread and willed your unnaturally heavy eyes to open. Immediately, you regretted it. 

  A rather embarrassing scream tore itself from your throat when your eyes met another pair mere inches from your face. It was a girl, only slightly younger than yourself but definitely not an adult. Her eyes had followed you as you’d scrambled back and you noticed with clouded curiosity that they were different colours - one was a beautiful blue and the other was a deep green with specks of silver dotted around the iris. Much like her eyes, her clothes didn’t seem to follow a specific colour pattern. Ripped, striped socks of purple and blue lined each leg and she wore a torn dress of green and orange. Her hair was as fiery as her clothes with its gorgeous ginger colour and the mix and match of her entire appearance was strangely appealing to your eyes. 

  Clapping hands distracted you from your observations. “Oh, isn’t she cute? Like a little puppy, a little adorable puppy, and puppies need to be looked after! Yes, that’s what they need. What else do puppies need?” You ogled at her outburst. Her question hadn’t even processed in your mind, only the intensity and obscenity of her speech. As her gaze darkened, however, and her irises swapped sides inhumanely, only then did you truly pay attention to her words. 

  “Disobedient little puppies need to be puuuuuuuuniiiiiiiiisheddddddddd.”

  “What?” The question left you in a horrified gasp. It was only the tip of the iceberg, questions were forming in your brain at a speed you were unfamiliar with and the inevitable headache hit you with viable intensity as you gazed deeper into her ever changing eyes.

  In response to your question, she clapped her hands again with delight and giggled deliriously. Then, abruptly, her hands lowered slowly, and her expression turned blank. Her stare looked through your eyes to something beyond. 

  For a time, all she did was gaze into the void, and it was only when she finally blinked did her temperament change once again. 

  Small, uncalloused and surprisingly strong hands wrapped around your throat with an unforgiving squeeze. Eyes widening in shock and fear, your own hands desperately fought against her, trying with all of your might to lessen the pressure to your throat. 

  She glared into your eyes, the contrast between anger and fear poetic even now. “You deserve to be punished! You disobey us without correction and now you’re like a puppy! But, oh!” You could breathe again although you weren’t fully out of her grasp. She’d taken to wrapping around your quivering body and stroking your hair all whilst whispering deluded things into your ear. 

 “Puppies are innocent and so very, very, vulnerable. They must be protected, by who? By me! I’ll protect you like I protect… um… what do I protect again?”

  “Delirium,” a deep voice spoke, your eyes widened minutely at the sound. “That is enough.” 

  Both of you looked up to the source of the sound and, while her face brightened and she instantly let go of you in favour of bouncing towards the voice, yours dropped once you beheld just who had commanded the crazy girl.

  It was the man from the pub. The very man that had captured your entire attention the moment your eyes fell on him, who had magically reconstructed the glasses you’d dropped and who had… “You did something to me, with that sand. You did it to Gabe too. Why? Where is he? Where am I?”

  His face darkened even further from its already cold exterior at your confrontation, his attention having been ripped from the girl by your rude tone. In your defence, rationality was hardly a priority for you at the moment.

  “You dare address me so?” Fear unlike any other seized your heart. Despite not having considered your tone before speaking, within a moment of chilling clarity, you finally began to grasp the situation you were in and the danger that could easily turn fatal at any second.

  Gulping audibly, you tried to form any semblance of an apology, however, no words left your mouth as you, at long last, beheld the five others standing by him. Just what had you gotten yourself into?

  A woman, with dark skin and incredible curly hair,  wearing a black vest and equally dark jeans spoke before the man could threaten you anymore. “Dream, give the poor girl a break. She’s just confused and that is no thanks to you, so rein it in.”

  He, Dream as she’d called him, had enough self-discipline to at least appear apologetic even if he never stated so. Contrary to his sudden calmness, you still eyed him wearily (trying in vain to remain composed at his intense stare). 

  The way she spoke of you was oddly condescending. In spite of her words having been defending you, they were undoubtedly patronising - as though she felt the need to rub it in your face, your helplessness and hopelessness against seven other people. Heck, you didn’t even know why you were here, let alone why she’d intended her words to be like that!

  Under the guise of fear you observed them all - you thought and planned how exactly you were to escape the room you were in. It wasn’t very big, the room, although it was lavish in a way that was homey. Where you sat on a dark, patterned carpet, you could see that most of the walls were an unnatural ebony that no doubt held secrets unfathomable for your brain. They beheld no insight to where you were or whether or not there was an escape in them. 

  Deciding not to dwell on what you didn’t understand (which seemed to be an ever growing list), the furniture and layout of the room held your attention now. To the right of where you sat, there was a fireplace and two seats of crimson leather were situated before it. In between them lay a table with a book - something was scrawled on the spine but in the lighting you couldn’t quite see what it was.

  “Ohh, she is rather naughty, isn’t she?” Your head whirled around at the smooth, seductive voice. Their eyes narrowed at you in a way that made you tense in anticipation, of what kind, you knew not. “And clueless.” Similar to others, their expression darkened and suddenly their dark red lipstick signified more than just extravagance - each of the seven wore something akin to resentment on their face as they looked down on you. You must’ve done something catastrophically vile to garner such spiteful attention.

  In the background, you noticed there were portraits. Very big, very grand and very detailed. And each individual one depicted one of the beings before you; admittedly, they wore different clothes but the resemblance was uncanny.

  “How can you fault me for being clueless when none of you have made any effort to explain literally anything to me?” You spoke bravely. “I mean, the only time that I did ask questions it’s a wonder the death glare I got didn’t actually kill me!” 

  Some of them looked amused at your words, others looked downright pissed and then there was the poor girl who couldn’t seem to comprehend what you’d said, never mind settling on a singular emotion. You pitied her in an odd way.

  Dream looked at you with nothing short of absolute hatred, yet the scariest thing was how his expression had never changed. He was able to convey such a powerful emotion all while making hardly any effort at all, subtlety was a weapon for him, you realised, and it would be extremely difficult to recognise when and even if he was planning to kill you. He raised a hand and your eyes squeezed shut in dread. What was it you were thinking about him killing you?

  Sand flicked across your face once more and you braced yourself for whatever pain he’d force upon you. The sand cut and nicked your skin, warmth flowed down parts of your face as blood rose out of the split skin. Like a rabid dog, your movements became driven by pure instinct as you futilely shielded your face from the onslaught of the shard-like sand. The grains were too small, however, and weaved themselves through the tiny nooks and crannies of your violently shaking hands. More cuts appeared on your hands as your resistance persisted and soon red was all that could be seen. 

  Slowly the torment began to cease. Only when you were completely sure it had stopped did you lower your hands. Expecting to see rivers of blood, you questioned your mental stability when clear, unmarred skin was all that could be seen.

  “Let that be a warning of what is to come, little deceiver,” Dream threatened from across the room. You gazed up with tears spilling down your face. No shed of remorse could be found on his face, if anything, you’d say he definitely enjoyed what he’d done to you. 

  Despair became a hole in your heart; was this what had happened to Gabe? Had they caused such agony upon him as they had to you? Worse? Was he… no, you couldn’t think like that. Not if you wanted any chance of surviving these masochistic scumbags. 

  One of the unfamiliar people started gasping, moaning, you noticed with horror. Her worn, lifeless clothes made the distinction from her mood that much more disturbing. As she brought a hand up to her face, you noticed a hook ring on her finger and before you could process what had happened she’d stabbed her own fat cheek and angled the ring so that it cut the entirety of the cheek. 

  Nobody else commented on it, only the one in red lipstick seemed to react positively to it by reaching over and hugging her from behind. Numbly, water continued to run down your face as you struggled to do literally anything in that moment. 

  Another ginger began to approach you, a man with a similar appearance to a lumberjack. Oddly, his demeanour was warm - an unfamiliar contrast to what you’d been familiarised with - and he asked you a genuine question with no ill will hidden between the syllables.

  “Would you let me carry you? Please? You can’t be comfortable down there.” His voice was pleasant and deep and you found yourself contemplating what he’d said.

  “She does not deserve such a choice, Destruction,” Dream said uninvitedly.

  Hidden from his eyes, Destruction rolled his eyes and the illusion of a smile spread across your face. It was the way he resembled Gabe, even if only in behaviour, that made you nod your head. A sharp pang struck your heart at the reminder of him. 

  Instantly, another moan echoed in the room and as Destruction picked you up you curled against his muscular chest in an attempt to drown out the uncomfortable sounds. 

  “Despair, my twin, your time will come, have no fear. For now we must try and control ourselves,” the blonde with lipstick said.

  “Sorry, Desire.”

  A low, slow, cruel laugh left Desire’s lips. “Do not apologise, sister. It’s her that should be sorry.”

  Destruction had begun walking by that point, right towards the rest of them, and as you passed in between them you saw how each and every one of them looked at you: Desire had a hungry look on their face, Despair could barely contain her pleasure, Death revealed nothing, Delirium had a mix of elation and fury on her face, the mystery man was hidden by his cloak and Dream… Dream’s face was positively murderous. 

  Somewhere there was an explanation for his malice towards you, it was up to you to exploit it and wield it for yourself. Avoiding his eyes, you looked down and noticed that in his arms was the book from by the fireplace. The close distance finally allowed you to see what it said on the spine. 

  A new form of dread filled you; the book, it read:

  (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

 Dream must’ve sensed where your attention was, for he stopped Destruction in his path and reached a hand to your chin. His grip in his fingers alone felt more powerful than both of Destruction’s arms together and at any second he could render you incapacitated or even dead. 

  “Know that any intentions of escape will be met with more severe punishment should myself or any of my siblings catch you in your misdeeds.” Oh fuck, he knew that you’d been looking for an escape, they all did. And did he say siblings? Their allegiance to one another must be unparalleled if they would cooperate with what Dream had done and said to you and not report it to any authorities. 

  So far he’d kidnapped you, assaulted you in one way or another, threatened you and now had an entire book dedicated to what was, without a doubt, your entire life story. How long had he, they, been keeping tabs on you?

  The familiarity in which they spoke to you was unnerving to say the least, but the confidence in which they held themselves suggested that there was something beyond just cocky self-entitlement. Obviously, that played a substantial part in all of their personalities yet you still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something that you were missing. 

 Dream had been able to manipulate sand, to control it, and he’d used it to put you to sleep. That goes against every law of physics in existence and yet, he’d wielded it as an extension of himself. Then there was that god awful helmet, who knows where that could’ve gone but you noticed that in his painting he was wearing it. Did it have any significance? You didn’t know. You’d be damned if you didn’t find out though.

  These… people… seemed to have funny names with funny outfits and funny personalities. They also seemed to have a power about them that you were helpless to fight against should they decide to use it on you, like Dream had recently. Did all of them have sand powers? Perhaps it was just Dream.  Suddenly the song “Mr. Sandman” seemed to have taken on a new meaning. 

  Considering that, their names each contributed to whatever they were wearing in some way; Dream with his sand, Delirium with her vibrant colours, Desire with clothes that revealed a bit too much, Despair with that fucking ring and Death with an Ankh around her neck, an ancient Egyptian hieroglyph for Life. 

  But that was only six. There was another one who hadn’t been named, hadn’t spoken. His hooded cloak and massive book that had been chained to him revealed nought about him other than he was probably very knowledgeable. Maybe unwillingly so if the chain held any significance. 

  Alas, it wasn’t him who was of concern at the moment. It was the infamous Sandman (you hypothesised).

  Addressing him with a clearer head than you’d had since waking up, you wriggled around in Destruction’s hold so that you could appear more in power than you actually were.

  Amusement glittered in his surreal cerulean eyes.

  “Duly noted.” Simple, though your comment was, it also grounded you further and allowed more thoughts to turn calculative rather than inoperative.

  Destruction cut off your silent stare down as he continued in his path towards the floating portraits. The floating portraits. Floating. Okay, sure, that was normal.

  Feeling as though your brain would literally combust if you continued to dwell on it, you silently chuckled at how if anything were to push you over the edge it would be gravity defying portraits. Not the fact that you’d been kidnapped or assaulted with practically sentient sand.

  Vibrations could be felt from Destruction’s chest as he addressed his siblings curiously. “Alright, where are we going now?” 

  “Colours and patterns! Moving and making and forming and shaping! We can go to my realm, it’ll be funnnnnnn! Puppies love fun,” her puppy bullshit was really starting to grate your nerves. 

  Death smiled patiently at Delirium and you applauded her tolerance of the young girl. If anything were to convince you that they were siblings, it’d be that. “Delirium, you know that we agreed we’d go to the Dreaming. It’s been a while since we all visited as a family, hasn’t it?” She turned to you after restoring Delirium’s complacency, “It’d be the first for you, obviously. Thanks to your avoidance of us all there really is so much you’re missing.” Sighing rather dramatically, she turned to the cloaked man. “Is that still okay, Destiny?”

  Destiny nodded once at her then turned to you all; “The path we tread is murky - our decisions must be wise, careful… lest we lead the universe to its destruction.” Poor, poor Destruction tensed his hold on you, causing you to bite your lip to prevent crying out. 

  “Big brother, Destiny meant no harm with his words,” Desire crooned from where they were perched behind Despair, blood dripping from multiple areas on the latter’s face. 

  “Do I not get a say in this?”

  All seven heads jerked in your direction, Destruction’s beard dangerously close to getting in your eyes. Shoulders hunching, you diverted your eyes from everyone, remaining silent. The familiar feeling of dread crippled you once more.

  “Destruction, could you place the human onto her feet, please?” Death’s eerily calm voice broke the suffocating silence. He did so, and you noticed his hesitancy to do so along with a final reassuring squeeze.

  As he stood back, Dream glided towards you with as much grace as a King. He towered over you, looked down at you from his nose - you were beneath him in more ways than one, of that you knew. Didn’t mean you had to like it. Cruelly, he smirked and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I will enjoy this, little deceiver.” 

  Your eyes joined as he drew back slightly, still only inches from your face. Suspiciously, you never once felt the hints of breath on your face; did this guy not breathe either? 

  The two of you stood like that long enough for you to forget about Death momentarily. Feeling your eyes suddenly sag under an invisible pressure and your mouth to dry up like the Sahara desert, Death’s hidden threat began affecting you.

  Dream took a step back, narrowly avoiding your collapsing form. The weight of the world felt like it was on your shoulders and you were physically incapable of moving a muscle.

  The carpeted floor was the only reprieve you had before the full force of Death overtook you.

  Hell erupted inside of you; you could feel your organs burning within your body, slowly, so agonisingly slowly, were they burning and melting and disintegrating. Blood formed inside of you and there was nowhere for it to go apart from up up up up out of your mouth, your nose, your eyes. 

  A boiling feeling bursted over your entire body, a heat so intense that the carpet around you seared and crisped in its magnitude. Blisters, horrible, rotten blisters formed from the tips of your toes to your forehead and the pressure of the very air around you was almost too unbearable to withstand.  Twistedly, the way they popped was comparable to bubble wrap. 

  Gory pus spewed from the broken skin. For the second time that day, you vomited everything that was in you. But your stomach couldn’t be emptied, so your stomach was what was emptied; the remaining flesh of your intestines, your stomach, your kidneys and your heart surged out of your mouth. Pools of blood formed around you and as you lay in the remains of your organs, all the while wondering distantly how you were still alive without a heart… you wished for Death. 

  She didn’t stop. In fact, it only got worse.

  Nails were forcibly ripped from their beds. Screaming brokenly, you pleaded for mercy but it. Didn’t. Stop. Ripping filled the room, with a numb sense of horror you knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was your skin that was being torn, flayed. 

  You were being skinned alive, by a force you could not see, a force you weren’t even sure existed outside of your violently tormented mind. Hair fell from your head in clumps.

  Being nude in front of the seven siblings didn’t even occur to you, how could it when nude wasn’t even something you were capable of being anymore?

  “Death, you must stop this! This has gone on too far!” Words entered your brain and immediately left it in an odd sense of delirium. 

  “Puppies like colours,” puppies did like colours… and the colours you saw were so very pretty-

  You started to convulse on the floor. The onslaught of so many sensations nearly breaking your brain. Another scream ripped itself from your bloodied throat; salt burned along your flayed body and you pleaded for Death once more. You were wholly set on doing anything to escape this torture and surrendering to the colours because they were oh-so pretty-

  Then they vanished. And only darkness remained. “Listen to my voice, deceiver. Follow the light.” Stars formed around you but one outshone the rest. Captivated, you listened to the deep voice and drew near like a moth to a flame (something deep down warned you that this was dangerous). “Very good, little one.” A rush of energy swirled inside of you and with unfamiliar strength, you enveloped the star in your palms.

  Weightlessness overwhelmed you and you sagged into the waiting abyss, finally falling into the arms of what you desired most. 

-------

  Low, soothing voices registered in your brain, it was them that woke you from your slumber. 

  “I stated extremely explicitly, sister, that our decisions were catastrophically critical for the preservation of the universe and then you decide to do this?” The tone itself was chillingly calm and tremors spread across your body.

  There was a moan and the voices quietened. 

  Arms wrapped around your drained body and a comforting hand raked itself through your hair, “Sh, my sweet, it’s over. You’re safe, you’re alive.”

  Alive? You were alive? For a split second, you couldn’t remember what would encourage such words but then it all came rushing back. Despair gripped you in a chokehold, any coherent thought fled your brain as phantom sensations flared all over your body.

  Colours formed, they did nothing to distract you. 

  Frantically, you ripped yourself from the cage you were in, the blood already too prominent and the scent, the rancid scent of the pus-

  Grains of sand hit your face. Scrunching your nose in confusion, you blinked blearily at the golden grains floating before you. Deliriously, you raised a hand to touch them but a tanned one grabbed your own. And with it, clarity.

  Death had sunk her claws into you and you’d come so very close to sinking into the depths of her sea, drowning in an endless current of burning and boiling until you wasted away into any other being a victim to her malice.

  Except it was not Death who held your hand, it was Destruction. His eyebrows were knit in concern and he appeared to be troubled… he was pained on your behalf. That struck you as odd, surely someone with such a name should revel in your pain. 

  “How are you, (Y/N)?” He used your name, the first of any of them to do so. 

  Your quivering lips were the only answer he needed. Despondently, he nodded his head and averted his eyes as though ashamed of your inevitable answer. “I, we, would like you to know that nothing like that will happen of our will again. Death is older than most of us, has the biggest responsibility of us all and your challenge… pushed her over the edge.”

  Facing Death, even acknowledging that she was in the room, was too much for you. At the moment, your will was as stable as a Jenga tower and any ill movement would make it crumble completely.

  Destruction’s words made sense, especially if your growing theory that these were exactly what their names signified. Despite your absolute hatred towards her presently, a small understanding part of you sympathised with the intensity of her burden.

  No words left your mouth in response to his, no words could. You didn’t know what to say or what to feel. Your inner whirlwind of emotions was wholly confusing and you just wanted them to stop so you could gather your wits.

  Reluctantly, Destruction released your hand, again squeezing it in reassurance one last time. An unrestrained whimper left your throat at the reminder of what happened after he’d done that the last time. 

  Before you could descend into your own paranoia, more grains of sand tickled your face. More memories rushed through you then.

  “You saved me,” you didn’t look up, nor did you raise your voice above a whisper. Dream never voiced his acknowledgement and you couldn’t be bothered to check if he knew it was him whom you were addressing.

  Regardless of the hate filled relationship you two had, the two words left you with no disinclination:

  “Thank you.”

Tag list~

@fangirlmary

@annievvv7

[dreamscrawl]

A little sneak peek from my first The Sandman fic. (The title is A Waking Conversation with Dream.) I love the idea of [Y/N] bringing up Morpheus' ex-girlfriends at every opportunity. It's fun to tease someone like him, don't you think? The reaction every time is priceless. [Y/N] had recently met Morpheus here. She's still getting to know The Endless. (×)

[goldenlevi]

Death's gift

I wrote something for death because I'm reading the comics and absolutely loved the panel where Neil quoted this poem/text about greeting death as an old friend. And it was the most beautiful thing.

warnings: bittersweet, mentions of death (obviously lol), and message me if u wanna chat! :D - its smol it was just something -

summary: Death has one appointment she does not want to attend.

Death, Dream’s older sister comes for you.

Devastated and filled with sadness, her eyes no longer held mystic. That day she had no black around her eyes and no spiral. Her hair seemed tamed, an impossible feat. That day she wore black for an entirely different reason. That day she finally understood the irreversibleness funerals held. 

That day she had come for her oldest friend. 

Ultimate powerlessness filled her limbs as if she was being crushed by a Nightmare itself. For the first time in eons, she didn’t want to let go. For she could not follow. 

Her friend greeted her, not with tears like her own, but with a smile.

Death is not often kindly greeted; people scowl at her, hide and attempt to escape an inescapable fate. It was not unprecedented, however, it was undoubtedly rare when she was met with joy. Her happiness was genuine, directly thrown at who and what she truly was. 

And so, she gave her the last warmth she had to give. With one last smile, she held her hand accepting the greatest gift. 

‘I welcome you, my friend,’ she whispered. ‘For you are what gives this world it's worth’

[beautifulbows924]

Stuck in a bad bout of writers block, so send me some requests!!!

(My ask box is open, or you can simply leave it in the comments below).

It can be anything, as specific or general as you'd like.

If you’ve ever been too scared to send in a request- because you’re worried it’s too out there or too much.

Send it to me! Smut. Fluff. AU. Angst. Dark. You name it.

If something inspires me, I’ll write it.

Lord Morpheus, demands it. :)

[myoddessy]

okay so i lied abt being out of my writing slump because i needed to get another job and i'm very stressed rn HOWEVER. morpheus/dream of the endless x reader based on epiphany and peace by taylor swift?? specifically the lyrics "only 20 minutes of sleep, but you dream of some epiphany" and "would it be enough if i could never give you peace? your integrity makes me seem small, you paint dreamscapes on the wall"

also if you like this idea and want me to write other taylor inspired fics, lmk and i'll try get around to them !!

[endlessthxxghts]

Bend Over

Javier Peña x afab!reader || W/C: 4.8k

Summary: Your dresser craps out on you. Your boyfriend, Javier, comes with you to IKEA to buy a new one. Then, he fucks you on it.

Content/Warnings: I think you know what you guys are getting into based on the summary😗. Reader is able-bodied. Slight implied physical descriptors Javi is taller than reader, and the IKEA dresser is slightly bigger/taller than you (everything else is neutral - no size descriptions - ex. "your form", etc.). Pet names (good girl, querida, cariño, baby, baby girl, mama, mi amor). Implied that reader knows Spanish. A little allusion to our favorite contractor, Joel Miller (blink and you’ll miss it). SMUT 18+ MDNI. Public sexual activity (exhibitionism). Finger fucking. Edging. Slight undertones of BDSM dynamics. Javi’s filthy mouth. Thigh riding. Hickey/marking. P in V unprotected sex. Choking. Breeding kink (I’m not sorry). Cum play. Anal play. Brief pussy licking + rimming. Allusion to further sexual activity. I thiiiink that’s it… let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: HIII I’M BACK! I went to ikea to buy a new dresser. And the thots between @javierpena-inatacvest and I ran wild. So, this was born.👹 Also, I no longer have a tag list, but I teased this story TWICE in some WIP tag games, and a few of you were giving me so much love and wanting me to let you know when this story was posted, so I’m adopting the tag list (at da bottom) one last time to say how much I love you all. 🥹 I’m sorry this took me so long. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!!

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

It was supposed to be just a trip to IKEA. It was supposed to be a productive day of building your dresser and rearranging your room. That is what it was supposed to be. 

How it ended up with you getting your guts rearranged on top of said dresser—you’re not so sure. But, considering this is Javier Peña you’re talking about, maybe you have a slight indication of why your day ended up the way it did. 

It was early this morning when your dresser decided to shit on you; all you did was slide the door open, and it completely pulled off of its hinge. Now, you don’t mind a doorless dresser, it’s modern, you tried to convince yourself, but when you pulled out the second drawer and the wood snapped in half, scattering your panties all over the ground—yeah, okay, it was definitely time for a new one. 

You called your boyfriend after you cleaned up your clothes, and asked if he wanted to come with you on your hunt for the new piece of furniture. Why are you even asking? he scolded as he saddled up into his Jeep and made his way to your place. 

He stepped out of his seat in the driver side, rounding the hood to pull you in for a lengthy kiss as he pulled the passenger side door open for you. “Well, hello to you, too, baby,” you giggle as you break the kiss for a breath of air. He leaves a slap to your ass as he guides you by your hips into the passenger seat. He even buckles you in, stealing one more kiss before you two head off. 

You thought shopping for a new dresser would be simple: get in, choose a sizable one that could fit everything your previous dresser could, and also make sure it matches the rest of your room’s theme. Simple, right? Wrong. As long as Javier was involved, he took his sweet time really studying each option you were pointing out—analyzing it to ensure it wouldn’t crap out on you like your original one did. 

“How long did you have this dresser?” He asked as he was pulling into the IKEA parking lot. 

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you thought, “maybe a few years?”

“A few years?!” Javier asked, exasperated. “Where the hell did you find that fucking thing?”

You let a beat of silence pass before you answered. “...I thrifted it,” you admit weakly. 

Javier puts the car in park, his face in utter shock at what just came out of your mouth. “Querida, what-” he starts. 

You pull him in immediately, shutting him up with your lips against his. It works, of course. “Let’s go?” you ask. 

“Y-yeah, vamos (let’s go),” he says, flustered. 

“Javi, c’mon,” you whine, feeling exhausted after his analysis on your third option since the first two didn’t pass the Peña inspection. “Since when were you a contractor? The first two were perfectly fine, baby, it’s IKEA for crying out loud.”

He scoffs. “Living on the ranch with Pop,” he replies to your sarcastic remark. “You and I are both aware I know my way around some handiwork,” he adds as he looks back to you, a shit-eating grin creeping on his face. 

You want to roll your eyes, but you can’t help the way your body ignites to the suggestion laced in his words. “Pendejo,” you mutter to yourself, fighting the heat from making it to your face. 

You walk around some more while your boyfriend opens every nook and cranny of the wooden frame, but then right as you turn your body, you find it. The dresser. HEMNES. You quickly make your way to it, running your hands along the dark brown surface, crouching down to open up and see how much space is in the drawers—which, it’s very spacious. The drawer itself is taller than your waistline, probably reaching just at your belly button. It’s perfect. “Baby, wait, come here! I think I found one!” You call out. 

Javier follows your voice, intrigued by your excitement—you didn’t show this much enthusiasm with the other ones he was looking at. He rounds the corner and is met with quite a view. You are bending over the top of the dresser, on your tippy toes, trying to feel for the depth of the dresser. He sees you settle your hands at the edges of the top and shake it a little, testing out its durability while also unknowingly wiggling your ass. Fuck me, he thinks. Quickly adjusting his pants, he makes his way to you, situating his body directly against yours as he cages you in. 

“Jav-” you softly gasp, not expecting to feel him. Immediately you’re pulling yourself up, still on your tippy toes, but your back is now flush against his chest. 

“Ay, Dios mío,” he grunts as he whispers in your ear, “Querida, please get up.” His hands are on your hips, pulling you away from the dresser. You turn in his hold, a giggle leaving your throat as you look at his stressed out expression, realizing why his reaction was so pained. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask him quietly. “Saw something you like, huh?” You pull him in by his neck, kissing the side of his mouth before you pull away from him completely. Gesturing to the dresser, you ask, “Does this one pass the inspection, sir?” 

He glares at you before he replies. “Yeah, let’s get this one.”

Your eyebrow quirks up. “You didn’t even look at it.” 

“I saw enough, cariño,” he says gruff, looking at the tag on the display and taking note of which aisle the box will be at. 

You know your man well enough to know when he’s turned on, and that little unintentional stunt you pulled when making sure HEMNES was the right dresser for you—oh, it absolutely sent him over the edge. You decided to let him brew in his own arousal until you checked out your purchase, but the moment you set foot in his car again, you were set on starting something you wanted him to finish. 

“Thank you again for coming with me, baby,” you say as he settles back into the driver seat, your hand taking its seat on his upper thigh. 

The muscle twitches underneath your palm. “Mhm,” he mutters, voice wavering at your contact. Just as Javier puts the car in drive, he’s immediately pushing it back to park because your hand slides higher, closer, to the hardening bulge between his legs. His hips softly buck into your grasp; you take one look at him, and you can see the veins in his neck popping. A victory smile graces your face as his turns into a scowl. “What are you doing?”

You feign as much innocence as possible. “What am I doing? I’m just saying thank you, baby, I can’t tell you thank you?” 

“Right,” he says unconvinced. Your fingers continue to draw little shapes across the strained material of his pants. You go to cup him entirely, but the strength of his hand stops you. 

He releases your hand and gets out of the car, the car still running. He is at your side faster than you can take your own seatbelt off. He’s pulling your door open and giving you no chance for debate, his hand wraps around your jaw and pulls you into a bruising kiss—a messy yet calculated dance of teeth and tongue, and in pulling away he’s biting your bottom lip, pulling the sweetest little desperate whimper from your throat. He clocks the way your hips softly grind into his seat. 

“J-jav,” your voice shakes, “w-what are you doing-”

His grip on your jaw tightens, giving you a little shake as he speaks. “You had your fun, cariño,” he breathes. “My turn now.” 

His hand leaves your face and snakes down the front of your body, unzipping your jeans as you just stare wildly at the sight below you, your breathing erratic as your body anticipates his next move. 

“We- we’re in the fucking parking lot still, Javi!” You whisper yell at him, pissed, even though your body is doing absolutely nothing to stop him. He smirks at that fact. You want this. 

“Guess you’ll just have to keep quiet for me, yeah?” His fingers slip past your jeans, past your underwear, and you’re fucking soaked. His middle and ring finger bypass your clit, circling your entrance to gather the wetness accumulating before he comes back up to circle your throbbing bud. 

“Oh, fuck,” you yelp out, your eyes rolling back and your hips pushing into his hand as you hiss out in the pleasure. At your volume, Javi’s quick to stop his ministrations, cupping your mound and squeezing you as a warning. If the space allowed, you know he would’ve slapped your cunt. This alternative is equally as dizzying. 

“Open your eyes, baby,” he rasps. Your eyes flutter open. “You see all these people, huh? You want them to see you? See my good girl getting finger fucked in broad fucking daylight?”

“F-fuck, Jav” you whimper, much quieter this time, as your eyes land back on your man’s as you try and grind yourself on him. Javi’s fingers find your entrance then, sliding in with ease as a new wave of arousal pours out of you. 

“Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” His fingers speed up their momentum as he adds his thumb into the mix, hurtling you much closer to your finish line than you anticipated. 

“Baby, I’m c-close, I’m- fuck- I’m gonna cum, Javi, I-” you bring your hand up over your mouth to stifle the sobs that are about to leave your mouth.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna give us a show?” He asks, his breathing just as erratic as yours. All you need is one more little push from his thumb on your clit, and then-

“No!” you cry.

Right as you were about to fall over the edge, Javier completely pulls his fingers out of you, standing up straight as he licks his fingers off. Your hips don’t realize he left you as they buck a few more times, chasing the feeling of what could have been. 

“Baby, please, I was so close,” you heave, your heart rate equivalent to that of a hummingbird. 

Javier leans down into the car, slotting his lips against yours terribly slow; your taste lingers on his tongue. He pulls away. “Sorry, mama,” he whispers. “Only I get to see you fall apart like that.” 

He zips and buttons your pants up, leaving you a stunned, aroused, wet mess as he makes his way back to the driver seat and pulls out of the parking spot, driving back to your place as if nothing even happened. 

The drive home is short, but it feels like the longest drive you’ve ever had to endure. He rests his hand on your thigh the entire time, squeezing you every now and then as his pinky leaves featherlight touches where you need him most. He talks to you during the drive—about what, you honestly have no clue, but it seemed the conversation was enough for him to sustain alone. 

You’re brought out of your daze when his hand grabs your jaw, turning you to look at him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, knowing damn well what’s got your head in the clouds. 

The throbbing between your legs remained consistent—worse, even—on the drive home, so no you’re not fucking okay. You don’t tell him that, though. “Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your vocal cords to string together something coherent. 

He pulls your lips to his—a lingering one, one that has your mind slipping further. Breaking the embrace, he says softly, “Go unlock the door, amor, while I carry the box in, yeah?” 

On wobbly legs, you make your way to your door, missing the hole a few times but eventually the key slides in with ease. You toss them into the bowl on the entryway table, making your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water to contain yourself until Javier comes inside. 

Apparently, you’re way more distracted than you thought, because one gulp down and he’s behind you—hands on your waist, mouth on your neck. You set the glass down a little harshly, its weight suddenly increasing tenfold with the way he’s on you. 

“Baby,” you whine, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “Please.”

Your boyfriend is turning you around then, turning you to face him, and his mouth is on yours, licking and sucking as his body pushes you up against the fridge, your head landing with a soft thud as his mouth starts to descend down your neck while his fingers work your buttons and zipper for the second time today. 

He’s pulling your bottoms down to your ankles—they’re loose on your form, so they don’t restrict you too much from opening your legs when he slots his thigh in between you, hitting right against your core. 

His lips never leave you, biting and kissing every inch he can reach while his hands find their home at the globe of your asscheeks, securing his grip as he begins a steady pace of your crying pussy back and forth on his clothed thigh. 

“Just like that, cariño, I can feel you fluttering on me already, holy fuck,” he groans as he continues his assault on your chest, leaving pretty bruises all over the valley of your breasts. “Making such a mess, pretty girl,” he mutters into your skin. 

Your hands snake to the curls at the back of his head, yanking them as he brings you back closer and closer to the finish line. He brings his lips back to yours sloppily, one hand leaving your ass to paw at your chest, his fingers rubbing and twisting at your nipples; they harden in his touch.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, his tight jeans providing the yummiest friction against your clit. “I- I’m gonna- please, Jav, I- I need to cum,” you sob. 

His hand at your chest snakes down your body, following the path to your sex. Just as you think he’s about to slip his hands between your legs, his hand changes direction, both hands going up to grip your waist to stop you from moving. His thigh leaves your core, and you’re fighting—your hips chase his muscle, your fingers scrambling to pull him flush against you, but he doesn’t budge. It’s no use. Your high is gone again, painfully forced back to the start line as Javier bends down to grab your panties and work their way back up your legs. 

You’re a heaving mess, tears falling from your eyes as pathetic little protests fall from your lips. 

Exhausted, you sigh and finally blurt out, “Javier Peña, what the fuck are you doing?” 

You can see the faintest shit-eating smirk fall on his face before he mirrors what you did earlier: feign innocence. “Gotta go build your dresser, mi amor.” 

“I can fucking build it later.” 

“But I’m already here. I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah, but your presence is needed elsewhere,” you say, annoyed. You faintly gesture to your sobbing cunt, silenced by your soaked underwear. 

“But if I’m here, I’ll do it, so you don’t have to,” he says, placing a chaste kiss to the side of your mouth. 

“Javi,” you whine, hoping a thousand different ways of are you fucking serious right now translates to him in the tone of your sexual frustration. 

“Just sit pretty for me while I go do it real quick, okay, cariño?” 

Not giving you the chance to respond, he drags you by the wrist to your bedroom, forcing you to get settled in the reading chair you have in there—a prime spot to watch him get all sweaty as he works. Great. 

You wouldn’t have riled him up if you had known this was the kind of torturous game he had in mind. 

Twenty minutes in, and Javier is sweating alright, but it’s not for the reasons you’re thinking. Yeah, it’s a physical strain building this dresser, but this is fucking light work for him. 

No, he’s sweaty, sticky, and disgustingly hot because his dick is at his full potential, throbbing and leaking at everything you put him through—and everything he put himself through, pulling you to the brink of orgasm twice without letting you fully submit to it. He damn near always gets off when you do, and teasing you like this teases him just as much, if not more. 

He’s almost done, he just has one more drawer to put together and slide into place, but he takes a step back and uses his arm to wipe the sweat across his forehead, his breathing heavy during the action. It takes everything in you not to completely melt at what he’s forcing you to witness, a faint whimper escaping you at the sight of him. 

It takes him barely a minute to get the last drawer assembled before he attempts sliding it into place. It goes in with ease at first, but before it can fully shut, the drawer gets stuck, unable to close by an inch. What the fuck, he mutters under his breath, lifting it up and wiggling to see if it’s just a kink inside the railing. Your jaw falls a little open at the vulgarity of his mouth; you are way too wound up and everything he’s doing right now has your pussy doing backflips, somersaults, cartwheels—you name it. She’s very eager. 

Fed up with the drawer, Javier completely opens the drawer and then slams it shut, using his hips to give the drawer a full-force push. The slam of the wood is deafening, but it does nothing to hide the sweet little gasp that comes out of you, his cock twitching at the sound. 

A high-pitched, breathy squeak of an oh fuck leaves your mouth, and Javier turns to check on you. He sees your fingers skating down your front, running your middle and ring finger over your soaked center, your clit’s fire immediately reigniting at the contact. 

“¿Cariño?” He calls, a sternness evident in his tone. You know not to test that tone. Your fingers’ movements pause, your eyes meet his and they’re dark. “What do you think you’re doing?” Jesus fuck, he doesn’t even know if he has the strength to fuck you like he was planning on, the sight of you touching yourself has a fire igniting through every vein in his body. 

Your eyebrows are furrowed, nervousness written all over your face. “I…um, I-” you start. 

“Get up,” he cuts you off. 

“What?” You say softly, your brain already scrambled eggs and unable to register what he just asked of you. 

His singular eyebrow raises as he stalks closer to you, his hard gaze looking down at you as your pussy cries even more at the attention. Now his command registers, and you’ll be damned if you have to make him repeat himself. 

You remove your hand from your center, lifting yourself off your chair. He snags you by your waist, pulling your body flush against his front as he steals the breath from your lungs, your tongues meeting hungrily. You moan into his mouth, your hands slowly wrapping around his neck, but before you can grip his sweet curls, he’s pulling away from you, your surprised gasps blessing his ears as he flips you roughly but with ease towards the direction of your new dresser, already in its place secured against the wall. 

“Javi,” you whimper again for what feels like the millionth time already. 

“Dime qué quieres, cariño,” (tell me what you want) he rasps in your ear, his hands skating down your front and resuming what you so desperately started.

“F-fuck-” you start, “fuck me, Javi, please, please fuck me,” you beg, your heart stuttering as he dips his middle finger into your entrance.

He kisses your temple as your eyes fall shut, a contrastingly sweet gesture for the way he’s about to ruin you right now. 

“Then bend over.” 

Now that sobers you up a little. You start to crane your neck in his direction. “W-what?” But he’s quick to grab your jaw, bringing your eyes back to your dresser. “Go do what you were doing earlier, baby. Bend over that dresser for me,” he says, soft but stern, then he’s taking a step back, letting you get there on your own. 

So hooked on his body heat, you can’t help the shudder that leaves you, but ultimately you’re making your way to your new dresser—picking yourself up on your tippy toes to lean over the top, just like you were doing with the store’s floor model. “L-like this?” You ask, voice trembling in anticipation. You stick your ass out a little extra for good measure. 

You hear his belt buckle before you register his deep grumble. “Yeah, baby,” he tells you, slowly making his way to your backside. “So good for me,” he breathes, his fingers hooking into the hem of your underwear and letting them fall to the ground. You step out of them, knowing his next step is gonna be to nudge your legs further open—and he does, using his foot to nudge both of yours outwards. 

He runs his middle finger through your slick as he lets his jeans fall, your hips push further into his touch, chasing the pleasure you’ve been buzzing for all morning. 

“Baby, please,” he hears escaping your mouth. 

“Nuh uh, baby,” he tuts, “I told you. You had your fun already, it’s my turn.” 

He runs his fingers through your wet seam, properly soaking his digits before he brings his hand to his own arousal, covering himself in your slick. He groans at the feeling. Javier crowds himself behind you, his tip immediately mirroring the path of his fingers. He catches himself against your clit, and he smirks at the wrecked sounds of your heavy breathing. 

He pushes himself into you, slow and steady, getting you comfortable in his size. His fingertips are digging little bruises into your hips—his way of grounding himself from absolutely pummeling into you from the get go. 

You two have been together for quite some while, but Javi knows he’s big. It’s evident in the way you mewl and convulse every time he’s inside of you. Too big to get used to, yet perfect for the slight tinge of pain he knows you love. 

“Baby, please move,” you pant. 

“You sure, cariño?” He says softly, his dominant demeanor fading to make sure you’re alright. 

You reach back to grab onto his hand and drag it up your own body, settling his long digits around the base of your neck. With a squeeze of your hand over his: “Fuck me, Jav, please.” 

At your queue, he’s pushing himself into you entirely. “Yeah, baby?” He snarls. “Want me to fuck you like this?” His hips form a hard pace, your hips digging into the ledge of the dresser. “This what your pretty little pussy wants, huh? What she’s been fucking crying for, baby?”

“Fuck-” you gasp. “Fuck, yes- Javi, yesyesyes! Amor, please,” you wail, your eyes rolling back as the pressure of his fingers on your neck restrict your blood flow, filling your body with a euphoria only he can give you. 

His eyes scan down your body, taking in every inch of you with nothing but pure adoration. The sweetness fades when his eyes zone in on where your two centers meet. He lets out an audible moan at the sight, sending your pussy fluttering at the sound. “Look at you, bebita, fucking creaming on me, holy fuck,” he groans, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

“I- I’m close, baby, fuck-” your breath stutters. “Touch me, Jav, I- I need you,” you moan. 

“Shh, I’ve got you, mi amor.” Javi’s hand on your throat leaves you and coasts down your spine, his grip fixing itself on the globe of your ass. 

He reaches down with his thumb to gather some of your slick, dragging it up to your tight, more inexperienced hole. You gasp when you feel it, your ass bucking further into his touch. “Oh, my baby girl likes that? You like your ass being played with, cariño?” He taunts, hooking his thumb inside. “Want to me to fuck you there next time?”

“Fuck- yes- please,” you whimper, your pussy fluttering around him at his words. His other hand snakes to your front and reaches for your clit, drawing tight, calculated circles on you. “Oh, fuck-!” you yell out.

“That’s it, baby, fucking- dámelo, fucking soak me, querida” he forces out between his teeth. Your body twitches in his grasp, knuckles stark white against your dresser, eyes clamped shut as you cry out in the overwhelming pleasure consuming every inch of your body. “Fuck,” he groans, your sounds forcing his balls to pull taut. Javi’s fingers speed up along with his thrusts, hurtling you towards your long-awaited climax. 

It’s overstimulating, him fucking into you so harshly as every nerve ending in your body pops off like fireworks. Yet, you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, the way his pace stutters for barely a second, and you know he’s close. It’s overstimulating, yes, but you want, no, need him to continue, you need him to chase his own finish line—you need him to root himself so deep inside you, you’ll feel traces of him for months on end. 

“You’re close, I can feel it,” you gasp, building your own rhythm of your hips to help him along. “Need it, baby, need you inside of me,” you pant, your voice desperate. You pull yourself off the dresser and push your back into his chest, both his hands leaving your body to grip onto the darkwood, caging you in. 

“Yeah?” you feel his heavy breath fan across your cheek. “Tell me how fucking’ bad, querida, wanna hear it,” he says, voice strained.

You look back at him as best you can in this angle, your lips ghosting his jaw as the slick sounds of you grow louder. “Need you so bad even plan B can’t help us- God- please cum inside of me, Javier Peña, fucking give it to me,” you beg, your moans echoing the walls and rattling every fibre of his being, pushing his body into a state of pure ecstasy as he begins to empty himself into you. 

“Oh…fuck,” he grunts, his hips coming to a halt as he nearly wheezes through his orgasm. Once the sensitivity calms down, Javi pumps himself in and out of you a few more times for good measure, pushing his load deep inside of you. You can feel the way he slides in with a wet ease, and it makes butterflies in your belly erupt, a small gasp of a giggle, knowing that the soaked sensation isn’t because of solely your own product. 

“Fucking perfect,” he grumbles, slowly pulling himself out of you. He takes a small step back to get a look at your used cunt, puffy and glistening. His mouth literally waters. 

Javi drops to his knees, settling his broad palms on each of your ass cheeks to keep the view of you open for him. Slowly, he leans in, the flat of his tongue running over your delicate pearl through your cum-soaked folds, a mix of you and him blessing each taste bud on his tongue. He hears your breath hitch. 

He brings his tongue back in, collecting up the salty combination, before he’s on you again, mapping out the ring of your puckered muscle before he softly peppers the area in sweet kisses, your rear slightly irritated with his repeated slamming into you. 

He pulls himself away, giving you a moment to turn around; your back is to the dresser now. He places several kisses on your thighs, giving a few more kitten licks to your center before he’s rising to his feet and pulling you in for a deep yet gentle kiss. You can taste both you and him, and it makes your heart want to burst at the seams with warmth. 

“You okay?” He asks softly as his lips break away from yours. 

“Always with you,” you offer bashfully. 

“Good,” he says firmly, kissing the tip of your nose. You hear his hand smack the top of your dresser a few times. “I guess this thing is pretty fucking durable, huh?” 

“Mmmm, maybe. I think it needs to pass one more test,” you tell him. 

His eyebrow quirks up, you can see his mustache twitch, fighting his smirk. “And what test would that be, mi amor?” 

Taking a step back out of his hold, you back up into the dresser again, grabbing onto the ledge and you jump, spreading your legs wide open for him to fit in between. 

You can see the way his eyes flash impossibly darker. He stalks up to you again, his hands squeezing your thighs before he’s back on his knees, his head immediately burying himself in your core. 

Oh, yeah, this dresser passes the test, alright. 

Tagging those who showed interest when I posted the WIP !! @honeyedmiller , @punkshort , @joels-shitty-puns , @bearsbeetsbeskar , @janaispunk , @starry-eyes-love

If you enjoyed this, come check out my masterlist for more or follow my notifs blog @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to get updated on when I post new stories! Much love💚

@pedrostories

[attackurheart88]

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really love me?”

“Yes.”

"Do you really really love me?”

They stop what they’re doing and turn to look at you. An audible sigh is heard.

“If I come over there and kiss you until your lips fall off will you shut up?”

[xitsensunmoon]

Uh oh

[becca-e-barnes]

Ma’am, you are deviously incredible 🔥 We’re begging for an exploration of him saying “I love you” while fucking her like he doesn’t 🥹

My brain keeps picking up the storyline a few splendidly torturous hours in when her body’s completely spent & quivering & she’s a blubbering mess & that’s when he picks her up & takes his sweet time positioning her so she can limply yet eagerly watch their reflection has he finally gives her… exactly what her twitching body’s been craving. 🥵

I'm so glad you all enjoyed the thought of this as much as I did because I've been dying to expand on it 😵‍💫 (Part 1 here)

I like to imagine by that stage, he's absolutely desperate too though. He's got to feel your sweet little pussy clench and flutter around him, contracting so tight every time you cum that he swears it's going to be the end of him.

He's been too hard for too long, buried inside your body and he swears he's never felt you this wet or this hot before. It's been fucking luxurious, forcing you to cum against his fingers, feeling how your body's natural reaction is to coax him to drain his balls into you but that alone isn’t enough. He needs more than that.

He wouldn't admit it to you but he can't take any more. His balls feel like they're fizzing; overfull and beyond ready to flood your waiting, overstimulated body.

He arranges you gently, laying you on your front because he doesn't trust your trembling arms to support you. "That's it, good girl." He coos, hearing you whimper and sob pathetically because he needs to slip out of you to slide a pillow under your hips.

"You've made such a mess." He groans, taking a second to appreciate the delicious, inviting, slick little cunt he's about to indulge in. "You're dripping, sweetheart. God, I just know there's no way I'm going to be able to pull out."

His huge hands are gripping your hips and with one sharp, brutal thrust, he's back inside you and you both sob pathetically at the feeling of your bodies being joined again. This is exactly what you've needed but you don't have the words to tell him that. All you can do is whine and will your body not to cum again so soon.

"I meant. What I said earlier." He punctuates his sentence with soft groans, drawing back until he almost slips out of you before pounding back in.

He leans forward, tilting your chin up, making sure you can see the way he's fucking you in the mirror at the end of the bed.

"I love you. And I don't want you to forget that." He sounds sincere, one hand trailing up from the small of your back to right between your shoulder blades and then back down again. It feels intimate and tender but all that is forgotten by the very next thrust.

"I love you. But for now, you're just a mindless. Little. Drooling. Breedable. Cunt for me." He slows his thrusts down, determined not to cum so soon but it's going to be difficult to last until he gets the first couple of loads out of the way.

"Baby..." You whimper, feeling the tip of his cock nudge against your sweet spot, making you shake from overstimulation.

"I know sweetheart, I know. It's too much. But you're being so good for me. You're so perfect. How have no idea how you feel. So wet and warm and I can feel you fluttering around my cock. It's like you're trying to squeeze every last drop of cum out of me. Is that what you want? Because angel, I'll keep this delicious cunt stuffed full of load after load until I have nothing left to give you."

His thrusts are punishingly fast, thumping against your raised ass, half chasing his orgasm, half holding it back.

"And when I do, I'll remind you just how much I love you. And the baby I'm going to give you tonight."

With that thought, he can't stop himself from cumming, his dick twitching inside you as he shoots thick ropes of his seed right against your cervix. You're so cock-drunk you can only rut yourself millimetres back and forth but that's all you need to send yourself spiralling into another orgasm that leaves you trembling and sobbing.

"Fuck, you want that as much as I do, don't you?" He kisses the back of your neck, breathing you in while letting the euphoric rush subside. He notices he hasn't softened in the slightest despite such an intense orgasm but he knows he needs to be gentle with you for a moment before he can get any rougher.

[hunny-beann]

I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3

Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.

That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.

She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.

That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.

Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

ao3 link

[yiminsuu]

Your Goddess (2/3)

Pairing: Dream/Morpheus x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, bit of violence, mutual pining, reader never experienced love, arranged marriage, depression, forbidden love, our king is bad at love too (give him some slack), mentions of Calliope.

Author’s Note: It was really hard to come up with something for this chapter. Also, if you don’t like my description of angels that’s your problem.

↳ Part 1 | Part 3

It won't be the end of my journeys to the human realm, yet there is sorrow in me I cannot comprehend. When my head no longer was consumed by clouds, I thought of all the possible outcomes of this union: I would no longer be able to stay alone, and my soon-to-be husband will decide on whoever I can watch over.

The weddings in Paradise are as special as a new star being born, not all angels are family at this point, and we do not cross paths with lower or high-ranking beings, but... I didn't expect a Seraphim to accept this marriage. Now, I am more scared than ever. 

"Are you ready?" My brother asked as he sat next to me, resting an arm over my shoulder gently. I don't say a word and glance around the apartment. "(Y/N), if you do not want this... Just say so, and we'll speak with father."

"You heard our siblings, they are afraid Morpheus will take my divinity away. They are ordering me to do this." He didn't look happy, not one bit. My brother always loved his freedom, and also wants others to savor it, but the rules they give us... It's killing us. It is a shame we have no other way. "Either way, this Seraphim they keep speaking about, everyone says he's kind and righteous. I'll be fine."

"But you'll break down, just like that night! We angels can't only exist for humanity, I refuse to believe that...! Listen to me!" I turned to him and we stared at each other, tears were beginning to show in his eyes. "I will call Morpheus, and we will get this to the council--"

"NO!!" With my outburst, my wings spread and the windows cracked, whatever was in the living that was made of glass was shattered in a second. I inhaled and furrowed my brows, my form recoiling until my back hit the nearest wall. I swear to God, I have never seen my brother so afraid. "Sister... Your wings..." My eyes widened like plates when I realized many of my feathers were changing to black, and I sobbed. "This marriage..." I clenched my fists. "Will happen!"

"You are blind...! You don't want this! (Y/N)!" I flew away from that forsaken place, but not long after I had to land and catch some air, thankfully, there was no human around. The place was a beautiful field of flowers, nature embraced me...

However, nothing stopped the feeling of hatred.

It swallowed my heart, and darkness consumed me as I fell.

I was aware he was watching me. I didn't let him make me a dream, or a nightmare, I don't want a thing from him, I reject him, and will continue to do so until the end of life itself. "STOP!" I shouted and woke from the numbness, and hugged myself before caressing my blackened feathers slowly, my fingertips trembling. Automatically, my wings shielded me from the king, who was staring at my back.

"Your wings... What has happened?" He muttered while walking toward me, and I detect something in his tone. "(Y/N)." He's angered.

"I beg you...! D-Don't touch me...!" The king stayed quiet, much to my relief. I'm unable to understand why this is happening to me, all I've done is follow our Father's laws and commit to taking care of the humans. I sighed deeply. "Since I was born I've been taught that my existence is connected to this realm... And it's all I've ever known. The smile of children, people loving each other, the first cry of newborns." My chuckle was full of bitterness. "Those moments are for what I exist... And you are ruining that." This time I do glance at him, and his lips part slightly. "I know how much you have lost, Morpheus, but-- Why would you ruin my life when you have enough people to go back to?"

"Calliope." A tear ran down my cheek when Dream mentioned her, so sweetly. "She called me because she needed my help. I would never let her suffer the same fate as me." This is exactly why I can't forget about you, no matter how hard you try to hide your heart, I'll always be able to see deep inside it. I hate it.

"What about me? Why would you let me sin??" When Dream stares at me like this, so heartbroken, I want to take every word back, but my mind says not to. "I have my reasons, (Y/N)." He simply says and I shake my head as I stood, stepping slowly toward him. "Because of you... I am banished from this realm for 1000 years. Because of you, I have to marry the strongest angel under Father. You did this to me... I thought we were friends..."

Both of us don't say anything as we stared at each other's eyes, deliberately closer than before. "We are not friends." I pursed my lips at his words, more tears staining my cheeks. "We've never been." Dream's hands come to my face, his thumbs cleaning my tears away. His own eyes were teary as he looked for more words, but nothing would come out of his lips. "You are cruel..." I whispered. 

This touch, HIS touch burns something in my chest, but it burns so deliciously I don't want the king to turn away. He holds me close, locking away any possibility of escaping and our noses come into contact, feeling his breath on my lips. My halo shines brightly as the sun, and my wings seemed to resuscitate from the darkness. The kiss was delightful, sugar-coated with the sweetest feeling my heart ever felt. 

"My angel... I..."

I surrender to him. To my king. My dream.

Alas, fate is unjust. "It wasn't meant to happen... I'm sorry..." I muttered brokenly. Morpheus reached for me one last time, but I had already vanished, and from far away I watched him break down as Death and his raven came to his aid.

In Paradise, I'm surrounded by my family and fellow angels of every ranking. As if I've just murdered someone, I am given the most heinous looks a prisoner would be ashamed of getting, however, I cannot care less. If this is the price for feeling love then I prefer to be dead.

Without Dream, I am nothing.

[emomensimp]

Matthew after having to deal everyday with his mopey wet cat emo boss 's bullsh*t

[dreamscrawl]

ENDLESS HOUSE | The Sandman Fan Fiction

Your grandparents died and left you a house, a large cottage just outside the city. In their letter, they strictly told you not to sell the house or anything inside—you wouldn't, of course. You loved the cottage. It held your most treasured memories.

The letter also explained the cottage's circumstances and its tenants. Tenants. You didn't know they had the rooms rented out. It was big enough to house at least twelve people.

They've been accommodating a family (of anthropomorphic personifications of powerful natural forces) who called themselves the Endless.

They wanted you to move to the house and take over as the Endless' landlord.

ENDLESS HOUSE STORIES

Welcome to Endless House! Thank you for reading. This post will serve as a masterlist and introduction to my first Sandman fic. Please be kind. It's been a while since my last fan fiction.

Endless House is basically a roommate au, in which you live under the same house as the Endless—you are also their landlord; a collection of short stories and headcanons about living with the Endless.

Inspired By

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: A for Aphrodisiac

Summary: On a quest to save your little brother, you and your fated companion Dream of the Endless, run into a small problem in Aphrodite's Temple.

Notes: ~2.2k words, GUYS! I finally wrote a fic that wasn't below 500 or above 5,000 words, it just doesn't need any random side characters... or a definitive plot.

Warnings: MDNI - 18+, dubious consent, sex pollen, aphrodisiac (duh), porn without plot, unprotected sex (get tested yearly guys), P in V, no foreplay just straight fucking, Dream is a red flag but he's my red flag. I am willing to die on that hill.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Next

“A temple of Aphrodite?” You question as you walk through the marbled entrance. The overwhelming smell of roses fills your senses and the honks of swans disappear as you cross into the building.

Morpheus follows closely behind. The drizzle of rain seemingly bounces off his coat and hair leaving him dry like the Sahara. On the other hand, you, the poor human with no otherworldly affiliations, were soaked to the bone. Your light jacket and sundress stuck to your skin until it became itchy and you quickly take off your jacket to dry easier in the momentary shelter. 

You miss the way Morpheus stares at your exposed shoulders and legs. His eyes run up and down your body, to the way the dress sticks to you like a second skin.

“Aphrodite loved Ares, unlike her vowed husband. But such is the game of gods.” Morpheus explains and peels his eyes away from you. 

You lean on a large pillar that supports a large brazier, one of many others. The heat helps you warm up and the shivers slowly leave your body as it dries your clothes. 

“So, Ares is… here?” You say without much confidence.

When the fates set you out on this quest to find your brother, you hadn’t even packed your lunch yet. They just threw you to the wind and then gave you Morpheus as a guide. As for him, it was so “He could get out of the house more” as his older sister has explained it to you. 

So, here you were, soaked in summer rain and sharing conversation with Dream of the Endless on a quest to find your kidnapped brother - all of which happened since this morning. The everything bagel and cream cheese you had for breakfast sat uncomfortably in your stomach, the same stomach that was screaming at you to eat something as your journey had left you to skip the midday meal. 

“Ares is behind this gate created by Aphrodite,” Dream sighs as if he were spelling out the obvious. “Yes, it is a possibility.”

You simply roll your eyes. For someone who is almost infinitely older than you, he certainly didn’t act like it. Feeling warmer and dry you started exploring the temple, running your fingers across the divots in the carved stone much like the climbing ivy that decorated the walls. 

At the end of the temple stood a magnificent statue of Aphrodite herself, wrapped in cloth and her hair flowing in the wind. Beneath her pedestal, you could make out a rectangular outline made out of large roses. 

“Hey! The door!” You exclaim in excitement. As much as you hate to admit it, Morpheus was right. He usually was right but you’d rather keep that comment to yourself, in case the ego inflates any more of his head and he drifts off. Which, would unfortunately leave you on your own to solve these puzzles. 

Morpheus appears behind you, peering over your shoulder at the door. 

“Seems like a hidden mechanism. It would be wise to not touc-”

You press your palm onto the center of the door and it gives away to the pressure of it. 

“You fool!” Morpheus seethes out and you tense. 

It seems like a trap, now that you think about it. With bated breath you wait, slowly inching yourself closer to Morpheus in hopes that the King of Dreams may be able to protect you if something were to go wrong. 

Yet, nothing. 

The door slides back into place, the sound of marble against marble scraping against each other in the otherwise completely quiet sanctuary. The quiet atmosphere stays peaceful for a few seconds but ends when a yelp escapes you when the roses suddenly go into full bloom, the petals giving a “floosh” right in your face, its sweet pollen dusting both of your bodies. You stare wide-eyed at it waiting for anything else to happen. When nothing did, you let out a sigh of relief and turn to Dream with a smile. 

“See, nothing to worry about.” You shrug with your palms facing upwards. The two of you stare back as a golden engraving appears on the door. 

“One from two, enter together.” You read out loud while trying to dust off the shimmering pollen, sneezing when some enter your nose instead. 

Great, a riddle but nothing comes to your mind as you think. Morpheus glares at you still and his eyes drift down to the palm that touched the door. 

“Your hand is glowing,” He states. 

You look down at your open palm and panic. The skin is bright pink and as Morpheus has stated, glowing. You scream at your hand and shake it aggressively. When the glowing still doesn’t reside you scream again and face the palm towards Morpheus’ face and shake it aggressively to grab his attention. 

“Enough,” He commands and grabs your wrist. The grip is stern but it doesn’t hurt and the warmth of his skin calms you down. 

It is now that you realize that the skin doesn’t actually hurt. There’s no burning sensation or pins or needles, nothing. Morpheus takes a closer look at your hand and you can feel the exhale of his breath fanning your palm. It tickles and you try to pull away, but his grip doesn’t relent. 

“What? Do you see something?” You ask, your other hand is clenched in on itself as a way of grounding yourself. 

Morpheus doesn’t entertain you with an answer and instead brings his face closer. A sound that you didn’t know you could produce comes out from your throat as you feel the warm, slick feeling of his tongue on your palm. 

“Wha..mm” Your words fall short and he licks again and a whimper leaves your lips. You look up at him, his eyes are closed as he inhales deeply.

He brings your hand to his cheek and leans into it. When you release your hand and he lets you, you see that your glowing mark has smeared to his cheek. You come in closer, nervous about marking the Endless but he stops you again. He peers at you, all silver gone from his eyes and instead blown pupils pull you deep into their voids. 

His hands find themselves around your waist and you place your hands on his chest to stop him from invading any more of your space. It doesn’t and he advances still. His brooding act doesn’t help with voicing whatever he could possibly be thinking. 

“Hey, what’s gotten into you,” You release a moan at the end when he presses his nose to the junction of your neck. The hot breath released from his mouth had your lower regions start to grow hot and slick. 

When his tongue licks the length of your neck, your fingers grasp desperately at the lapels of his jacket, holding on tight as your knee buckle beneath you. Morpheus smelled like grass after a summer thunderstorm and he stood sturdy like an old oak tree. 

You whisper his name and his grip tightens more, bruising and unforgiving. 

He groans into your neck. “Aphrodisiac.” 

Of course, Aphrodisiac, named after the goddess Aphrodite, the very goddess you are trying to please and solve her riddle. The thought crosses your mind momentarily but it is quickly cut short by Morpheus’ continued administration. The pink stain spreads further on Morpheus, anywhere and everywhere you touch him. Your cheek was pink as well, where he touched yours and markings of his tongue glowed pink as he continued his kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. 

“Oh, gods,” You moan into his hair as he dives deeper towards your chest. Your body is turning hot and you can’t tell if it’s just the aphrodisiac or the way he is touching you. Perhaps it’s neither, perhaps it’s both. Either way, you can’t stop the sounds that escape your lips. 

He presses forward and you step back until your back hits the pedestal and Morpheus’ large frame follows, trapping you between a rock and a harder place. You can feel his erection pressing against your stomach, hot and heavy and begging to be released. 

With restraint, Morpheus pulls back and pants into your neck. Your own breath was ragged, your tongue felt heavy when you speak. 

“Please,” You whisper, your hands travel down his chest, pink smearing along his black shirt, and cup his erection. 

He looks at you now, eyes peering into your soul asking you if you really did want this. You nod, not trusting your voice for a second time. 

“Say it,” He commands again, his forehead pressed against yours. “Say it,” He whispers in a plea. 

You tip your head up and respond with the strength you have left. “Yes,” You murmur against his lips, barely brushing yours with his own. 

He seals the deal with a kiss and hands once again go to your waist. He grabs you, hoisting you up and your legs immediately wrap themselves around his lean torso. You impatiently grind your heat into his as he dips his hands below your dress line and moves your undergarments to the side. 

It was rushed, it was sloppy and it was nowhere near romantic, yet you’ve never felt so much excitement. No one was near but the peering gaze of the daunting Aphrodite statue made you feel exposed. Morpheus doesn’t bother to warm you up for him and the heat of his cock presses against your cunt. He pushes forward and it stings. Tears swell in your eyes at the intrusion, his cock splitting you open as he sets a rhythmic pace. 

“Forgive me, forgive me,” He chants into your ear but the words fly in one ear and out the other. The pleasure the Dream Lord was giving you more important and present in your mind. 

Your hand reaches into his hair and grabs onto his roots. A groan sings from his throat and you can’t help it when your lips connect to his Adam’s apple. You leave bruising kisses along his neck and continuously feel the vibrations of his moans, each one low and gritty. 

Morpheus felt like he was about to lose his mind if he didn’t quickly finish the two of you off. His body felt like it was on fire and his head pounded in his skull with ideologies of fucking you until you were nothing but a pile of pleasure. When your nails grip his shoulders, he welcomes the pain and bites down on your collarbone to suppress his wanton moans. 

You were too sweet for him, a type of innocence that he didn’t want to taint. Tears well up in his eyes as he realizes that he did it without him even knowing. The aphrodisiac completely consumes the two of you. He loved it, the feeling of your legs wrapped around his waist, your grip on his hair, your moans filling the space and echoing around the temple, but were not his to take. 

“More, more, more,” You moan, head thrown back towards the ceiling and he couldn’t deny you the pleasure.

His thrusts become ferocious, slamming into you harder and harder until you were just a babbling mess in front of him. Your words range from his name to curses to simple pleas. The contractions of your cunt spasming around him make him falter for a moment but he presses on. When your orgasm reaches you, your scream is muffled by his open mouth kiss. His thrusts turn sloppy and uneven before he finishes as well and you feel the way his cock pulses within you. His semen drips out of your spent hole and mixes with your release on the polished marble floor. 

Your body deflates as the orgasm finishes and you’re left panting and leaning on Morpheus as your thighs tremble around his waist. The door behind you opens with an ungodly scrapping sound and you look behind you. Lust was still evident in your eyes but you were pulled back to the real world again. 

The aphrodisiac wore off and a blush rose high into your cheeks. You push against Morpheus’ chest not wanting to be in his space, asking him to put you down, but quickly realize that it was a bad idea when your knees buckle and you start to fall. 

Morpheus grabs onto you to steady you and you murmur a thanks, too embarrassed to look at him in the eyes. The aphrodisiac has made you look at Morpheus in a different light, but there were more important matters at hand. You take one steady breath and readjust your underwear and dress, Morpheus releases his grip on your arms as you go to turn towards the open door. 

Beyond the door is nothing but darkness with a slight wind blowing out towards you and the smell of metal and leather comes into your nose. Before you can go, Morpheus’ fingers wrap around your arm again. 

“Should we… talk about it?” He asks in that low voice of his. 

You look back at him, somehow finding the confidence to look at him in the eyes. You find that they are full of adoration and passion that it turns your eyes downwards again. You’ve heard the rumors of what it means to be the lover to Dream of the Endless. It is rainbows and butterflies, the world at the edge of your fingertips, but one wrong move, and you are cast away like you were less than nothing. You think of Nada, Queen of the First People, who is still condemned to Hell for declining his promise to make her queen of the Dreaming. 

It’s too much, you have your brother to save, and there is no room to talk about love. 

“Later,” You say instead. You still need his help and if the promise of ‘later’ keeps him around long enough until the end of your quest, then so be it. 

“Very well. Later,” He repeats then follows you into the realm of Ares.

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This is going to be a 26 part series, all porn, no plot hehe ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)

Until the next fic,

♡ Yours, Layla

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