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withoutyouimsaskia · 18 days

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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

GIF: Originally posted by @simply---words

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dubious/non consent. Language. Kissing. Nudity. First time. AFAB + AMAB penetrative sex. Unprotected sex.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Hello there! How are you all doing? Thank you so much for sticking with me on this. I always hope I can get chapters out quickly and it always turns into 2+ weeks... Special thank you shout out to my IRL bestie @theviridianbunny for giving the chapter a once over ❤️Much love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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Morpheus' eyes glint like onyx stones under firelight as he waits for you to yield. His breathing is as laboured as it was when you initially laid eyes on him, and with each exhale you are exposed more and more to the intoxicating scent that rolls off his alabaster skin.

One hand is braceleted around your wrist, thumb swiping back and forth over the veins there that jump frantically, the other steadies the solid appendage that nudges temptingly against your opening.

"I can see that you want this," he intonates proudly. "Your physical reactions inform of me all that I need to know."

Your attention darts down to the markers that are broadcasting your arousal: first to the hardened peaks of your nipples, and further down to blushing labia framing your swollen clit. Morpheus follows the same path with predatory meticulousness.

"Oh, yes, those reactions are delightfully obvious. Most of all here."

He drags the tip of his erection in a teasing circle around your entrance and smiles sadistically when you stiffen and whimper in response. He brushes his nose against yours, the playfulness of the gesture juxtaposed entirely by his next sentence.

"Your sweet enticing cunt, gushing as it prepares itself for entry."

If you could close your legs to shield yourself from further embarrassment you would, for his dirty words only add to the wetness that he has observed between them. It's now running onto the silk sheets, mingling with the pre-cum that drips from his poised cock.

Morpheus continues to speak, "But I would know from even more subtle signs: the shade of the flush on your chest, the curl of your toes, the arch of your back." He dips his head, breath feathering over the shell of your ear as he whispers, "You want penetration."

He is right. Of course he is.

The desire to be filled is powerful - a base instinct that is relentlessly chiselling away at your resolve. You swear you can hear a voice in your head chanting with every proverbial swing of the hammer:

Do it. Do it. Do it.

A conflicted whine pushes past the clench of your teeth.

Morpheus has fallen silent, his tongue tracing a scintillating path directly over your jugular, an action that makes you automatically twist to offer more of your neck to him. He doesn't oblige, instead he moves his head lazily and stares you down once more.

How was he so good at playing with you like this?

The question spends little time unanswered; the Maiden's words from the tail-end of your conversation with the Fates bounces to the forefront of your brain. "He has been made to be perfect for you."

It's the whole soulmates thing.

Speaking of the soul, to make matters worse, the ache in your chest is returning with ire. It appears that the touch of his skin is no longer enough to pacify the pain. A flash of recognition musters in your mind from the near-imperceptible sudden knit of Morpheus' brows, the tautness in his own chest; subdued cues that he shares this affliction.

You reach out with your free hand and spread your palm across his sternum, feeling the fierce shuddering there that matches yours.

His soul.

It is under the same stress as yours. He had said he could feel the sub-epidermal heat like you but had made no mention of this. Supernatural being or not, Morpheus is grappling with pain and it will simply not do.

Your eyes flick up, your decision made in the next heartbeat.

"I surrender."

Quicksilver flashes through those blackhole irises and with an exultant groan he sheathes himself within you.

You screw your eyes shut and cry out, amazed by how far he is able to push in before he meets resistance. The overstimulation you had been predicting is absent, as is the agony you feared would accompany it. It's just the involuntary constricting of your channel that you contend with, a metronome swinging between discomfort and enjoyment.

"Look at me," Morpheus commands in that velvet voice.

You comply, and when you do you see that his eyes are blue again. A pair of cerulean pools; tranquil, somewhere to shelter. If only you could relax enough to slip into those waters. There's so much tension in your jaw and balled fists, inside you.

"Breathe," he coaxes, guiding you with tenderness, a hand reaching hold yours to give it a grounding squeeze.

You inhale slowly and shakily, mouth forming a shape of surprise when the muscles slacken and allow Morpheus to sink those last few centimetres within you.

The agony inside your chest ceases and from the small change in Morpheus' posture, you intuit that his has too. Heat like a solar flare envelopes you head to toe and the weight of his lustful stare only adds to the pyre.

"Mmm, that's it," he praises huskily, putting a forearm flat on the bed next to your face. "You feel divine, Y/N."

You nod zealously, unable to concur in any other way as he has robbed you completely of sentence forming. Your walls flutter as you adjust to the stretch, the feeling of this beautiful being bottomed out inside you. Your soulmate, exactly where he needs to be.

Morpheus makes the first move; a languid roll of his hips that grazes every place inside you, and releases breathy moans from you both. Your grab onto him, the spot where neck meets shoulder, as your mind scrambles to process the pleasure. With this initial test completed, he studies your expression, looking for any indication of a wish to stop. He finds none. Only a pair of expectant eyes overflowing with desire for him to keep teaching you like he promised.

He begins to rock into you with lavish, sensual thrusts. Your cunt unfurls even further to ease his movements; you are a moonflower, blooming under the night sky that overlooks the chamber, under his celestial form.

Remembering how much he liked it before, you move your free hand to play with his hair, eliciting deep-seated shudders all down his spine. It is joyous to inspire another such visceral reflex and you feel it pass through into your own body at each point of contact.

If he is a sculptor, you are the clay yielding beneath the presses of his body, shaping you into something entirely new - a lover. Just when he has you in the desired form, he changes everything.

He slows to a stop, still tucked safely within your warmth and secures his hands around your calves to bring them around his slight waist. You're not sure how it's possible but the change in elevation makes him feel even thicker.

His eyes are becoming darker again, gaze centred steadfastly on your face as he once more restrains both your wrists against the midnight coloured sheets. The semiotics give an unmistakable clue to his plan.

He's going to fuck you like he said he wanted.

You brace as he drags his cock back, and then he delivers a bruising thrust, animalistic grunt sounding low in his throat as the jut of his hip bones imprint into your flesh. A measure of dark lust is shot into your bloodstream and immediately you yearn for more of this roughness.

"Please," you say breathlessly.

He indulges you with a barrage of hammering thrusts, moans tumbling from your lips with abandon as warmth settles in your skeleton. His own vocalisations of pleasure syncopate with the completion of each thrust. The sound takes residence in your brain, his touch in every cell. The wish he had to occupy you in entirety is being granted.

You only take your eyes off him for a handful of seconds to look at the place where your bodies are joined, where he is slamming into you, the obscene image of it.

It's like he is an open flame and you are being doused in 99% proof vodka; the fire under your skin is so intense that your moans transform into screams. Morpheus consumes them all with the sudden seal of his mouth over yours.

The smothering action unlocks something inside you. In your chest, where your soul resides, it is vibrating aggressively, much more than it has done in the course of the evening thus far.

Morpheus notices the surge in the shaking and pulls back from the kiss.

"We must be close," he muses.

You feel the orb writhe in retaliation to his statement and your whole body does the same involuntarily.

"Shhh," he says in baritone purrs, pausing in his movements to soothe you. "A little longer and then I will breach the last defence about your soul."

His tone is confident as he restarts the powerful pace he has set, "I will not fail you."

He is stormy waves against a sea wall, bringing with it both the promise of blissful inundation and the threat of drowning. Yet you wouldn't mind drowning in him. A deep-rooted impulse tells you it would be an honour to lose yourself to the King of Dreams and Nightmares.

Your conclusion translates to the contraction of your calf muscles as you pull Morpheus tighter against you, deepening the physical connection to him as well as the emotional; choosing to submit fully to this somewhat scary situation - the tying together of your souls.

Pulling him closer, it's not without cost. The extra exertion, the deeper angle he can now reach, with all the pleasure it brings, quickly takes its toll. You are becoming weaker, his determined expression growing blurry, the edges of your vision field greying and closing in. You can't tell if you're about to climax or pass out.

Morpheus, observant and empathic, interlaces his fingers with yours and grips them tightly, clearly intent on keeping you here, not drifting off into the dimension of unconsciousness. Your returning hold is just as strong, perhaps a tad on the side of overtly vehement, but if it is then he doesn't seem to care. He just keeps railing into you, the warning signs of an oncoming orgasm beginning to daintily pulse through your walls.

A long-fingered hand reaches between your bodies to hover over your clit. With the last of your energy reserves, you arch up into his fingers, determined to reach your high, instinct telling you that it will somehow aid Morpheus in his endeavours.

He grunts sinfully in approval at your enthusiasm and uses the pad of his index finger to stimulate you, a familiar instruction issued as your soul jolts sharply, shockwaves rocking your bones.

"Let go."

The way he says the words, coupled with the movements of his hand and cock brings on the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced.

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty seconds elapse where your muscles are clamping down, desiring to keep his still-moving length as deep inside as possible. You loudly say his name, pleasure devouring you whole as you look adoringly into Morpheus' indigo eyes, before you are devastated by a snapping sensation as he breaks your soul open.

You are splintered and for a measure of moments, the exposed edges of the shards threaten to turn your insides to ribbons. Your brace for lacerations is short-lived; his essence, like liquid lapis, pours in to bind the pieces of your soul. Melding with you on a metaphysical level. Waking you from the mortal life you had and greeting you with a new path.

While you have no basis for comparison, an errant thought occurs to you that what is transpiring between you and Morpheus is fulfilling something of unfathomable importance. Something that was borne far from this room, in both the measures of space and time. Primordial. Inexorable. This linking of your soul with his is the culmination of what the Fates have wanted for millennia.

And once your soul is content, your essence begins to reach out in return. Like tender shoots drawn towards solar light, your soul stretches past its boundary to embrace his.

It's the final trigger that allows Morpheus to find his own release. His mouth jumps in astonishment, eyes turning black, then silver, then blue; a broken groan echoing around the low-lit room as he buries his pulsating cock deep inside you and spills his seed into your cunt.

You keen from the warmth of it, and you swear the fast paced breaths he is taking sound like melodies carried on ocean breezes.

The stars above you have been joined by dancing swathes of green and purple - a depiction of the Aurora Borealis at its finest. It swells with each inhale that Morpheus takes, his state having a direct effect on the sky. The colours catch the high points of his face, glowing vibrantly on his cheekbones, nose bridge and cupid's bow.

You wonder if this is the most beautiful sight you will ever see. The perfect face of your ethereal soulmate, framed by celestial splendour, gazing at you with the same devotion that you are casting towards him. But then he smiles. A small, genuine smile that makes your heart soar despite its fatigue, and it's clear that there will never be anything that can compare.

Morpheus then lowers his head to your chest and presses his lips to your healed soul.

"You are complete," he declares.

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Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

Blinding: "Felt it in my fists, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids. Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs. No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone. No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden. No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love with the wrong world."

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withoutyouimsaskia · 29 days

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Desire (based on Mason Alexander Park and David Bowie)—Zu Orzu

#desire of the endless #mason alexander park #david bowie #faves #beautiful #the sandman #saskia shares sandman

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withoutyouimsaskia · 29 days

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Been reading the Sandman comics again and had to do my own version of Dream waiting for his sister Death. Hopefully will be continuing this and will draw Death to go with her moody brother because I adore her 💀

#the sandman #dream of the endless #so gorgeous #saskia shares sandman

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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 month

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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

GIF: Originally posted by @teenwolf-theoriginals

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dubious/non consent. Groping. Language. Kissing. Nudity. First time. AFAB receiving oral/manual sex. Fingering. Mentions of overstimulation.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Hello there my lovelies! I come bearing a new chapter and this time it is pure smut. It's probably the darkest, filthiest thing I have ever written so brace yourselves. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. In other news, I watched All of Us Strangers on Friday and it broke me in half. Hope you are all doing well. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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The first thing that registers upon returning to your physical body is the touch of Morpheus' hands and mouth.

Warmth blooms at every point of contact and counteracts the biting winter weather.

Both hands have gone under the hem of your shirt to explore the skin of your back. The top three buttons have been undone to give access to your throat. Morpheus nuzzles there, pressing possessive kisses to the sensitive skin.

Navigating through the lingering brain fog, you realise that this was the source of the ghostly grazes you had felt during your meeting with the Fates.

Even when your mind was disembodied from your physical form, he was still able to affect you.

The connection between your souls is strong.

His sense of curiosity is strong too as he creeps a hand round and upwards to cup the flesh of your left breast. Your mind fully snaps back into your body and you make a squeaking noise, overcome with the intimacy.

He removes the exploring hand and pulls back from the crook of your neck, speaking your name eagerly.

Gentle fingertips stroke from your temple to your jaw bone. The world undulates when you try to open your eyes, and you sway on the spot.

He takes the weight of your body until your strength returns. Your eyelids flutter as you try to blink away the excess moisture that has accumulated there.

"That's it, come back to me," he murmurs.

You see the ocean blue of his eyes first, and then pan out to take in his whole face. Once again, you are wonderstruck by his exquisite beauty. Have you ever seen a bone structure combination as exemplary? No. Absolutely not. No one ever has.

The angles are balanced perfectly with his pouty lips, all pink and swollen from use; the sight of them urge you to replicate the same activity with each passing second.

There is no chance allowed for Morpheus disrupts your objectification. "Did you gain some clarity on the situation?"

You pull your coat closer to protect your décolleté from the weather, and take time to thoroughly contemplate his inquiry. There was much to unpack and while you had no inclination to do so standing out in the winter-washed street, you believe that for now Morpheus at least deserves an abridged version.

"Yes. And no. I may have more questions than before I spoke to them..."

"I see." He swallows visibly, hinting at trepidation. "You need not tell me of the specifics of which you conversed. All I need to know is that they have not changed their minds. That you are still mine."

You are smiling reassuringly before he has even finished the sentence. Your intuition tells you it was agony for him the entire time you were gone and you cannot leave him in lingering in that state any longer.

"I am yours," you say ardently as a blissful, expanding feeling blossoms in your chest. "My soulmate."

You brush your knuckles over his cheekbone and cup his face with the gentlest of touches. "My Morpheus."

Saying his name in front of him for the first time has a considerable affect on him. His pupils dilate, lending him a feline air and he groans lowly and quietly in the back of his throat. Hips then roll forwards to give further evidence to his arousal.

You reflect this lustfulness by putting both hands on the back of his neck to pull his face down to yours. He goes willingly, of course, laying claim to your lips like he is an addict and you his vice.

The previous kisses you had shared had been led by Morpheus. You had participated with enthusiasm but he was clearly the one conducting the order of events. Now it was a duet.

Your confidence is shown in your touches. The placement of your hands on his nape and the small of his back, gripping tightly to maintain his closeness. Peppering in open-mouthed kisses in an attempt to get him to open his mouth in return. You want to taste inside him with your own tongue.

He lets you.

You both moan as you trace the inside of his upper lip with your tongue. The taste is just like before; a heady and delicious mixture that blinkers and exposes you in equal parts. You open your mouth further, intending to go deeper when he suddenly delves into your mouth too.

You kiss and kiss and kiss, all the while becoming aware of a trembling heat just above your sternum that carves a path straight and true down to your core.

The hands that were at your sides disappear and the wind begins to pick up. There are gritty specks hitting your bare skin, but you are too overcome with pleasure to wonder why. Morpheus takes hold of your hands and squeezes tightly.

Your head begins to swirl. Is it due to a lack of oxygen? You breathe in through your nose. The adrift feeling persists. The grip Morpheus has on your hands is causing them to go numb.

There's a pressure in your ears similar to that created by the ascent of an aircraft. You feel it straining against your eardrums and spreading across your sinuses. All sound then disappears, as does the floor beneath your feet. Your heartbeat thuds frantically in the back of your throat, pulsating with red flashes behind your closed eyelids. You don't stop kissing him though. He is the only thing that has sense and stability in the disorientation.

The spinning ceases and the pressure fades as your feet find solid ground again. The chill factor has reduced to an ambient temperature. Morpheus extricates himself from your mouth slowly and unwillingly.

There's a sleepy dust-like substance in your eyelashes; you dislodge and wipe it away and open your eyes.

Your location has changed.

The puddle strewn pavements are now white marble. The stinging light emanating from the lamp post replaced by a peaceful mixture of moonlight and starlight through vast windows.

It is extremely familiar. You are trying to figure out why when your focus falls on the statues.

The niggling thought that you put on the back burner is suddenly set free from its cage.

The King of Dreams and Nightmares. That was what the Fates had called him.

You had visited this gallery as you slept and touched yourself in front of a ethereal man.

You vocalise the end of your train of thought as mortification clenches in your gut.

"You were in my dream last night."

"Yes." There's a tiny movement of his lips that suggests pride at your comprehension. "I've been in your dreams for many nights now."

"In the crowds, and that room?"

"Yes."

It all made sense now. It was him you had been waiting for in the blank room and after then, he was the one you had been able to feel watching you from afar. That was why he seemed so familiar. He'd been with you for weeks.

"I can't believe I did that in front of you."

The predatory gaze is back as he surveys your flustered form.

"Hmm," he purrs, "You were quite the spectacle."

"Did you make me do it?"

"I set up the parameters of the dream. Your actions within it were your own."

"I don't remember choosing," you comment in a small voice.

You feel his hands about your waist. "Perhaps you were guided by instinct, rather than conscious thought."

It sounds very plausible for instinct had undoubtably been in the driver's seat since he touched you for the first time.

You decide to change the subject from your exhibitionism. "So this is your realm?"

"We are at the heart of it, within the palace. Few are able to come here when they sleep. Even fewer are permitted to see it with a cognisant mind."

You look down as a bashful blush stains your cheeks. It is truly moving that he let you into his inner most sanctum, even before he had divulged your connection.

A strong thumb and forefinger find purchase on your chin and tilt your head up so he can assess your countenance. "What are you thinking of?"

"I'm just... all of this. What's happened tonight, it's beyond anything I could -"

"Dream?" He offers with a quirked eyebrow.

You laugh. "I was going to say imagine, but dream works just as well."

He brings you in for another passionate kiss, one that goes from lips to earlobe to neck, designed to make your head loll back and knees go weak, and you do both with a sigh.

"I would like to take you to my chambers now," he whispers against your pulse point.

That delicious vibration in your sternum shifts up a gear and you let loose a faint groan in lieu of a reply.

He speaks your name.

The inflection of his voice as he says it is so beguiling that you would probably do anything he suggested.

You are nodding, hazily repeating the word yes a few times even though Morpheus hasn't technically asked you a question.

The pressure you felt before in your ears returns for the briefest of moments and in the time it takes for you to blink, your surroundings have changed once more.

The first thing you notice is the bed, the lone piece of furniture in the room. The frame is an ornately carved pale stone, it twists and turns with gorgeous fluidity. The silk sheets upon it are a stark contrast; black with an iridescent quality that looks like the wings of a corvid. Its presence carries a raft of expectations with it and sets forth a barrage of nervous energy. You ignore the bed for now and look to your soulmate who has moved a few steps away from you.

He looks correct here, you note with intrigue. It's not as if he was out of place outside the function hall, for he has a humanoid form, but the grandeur of this private place is casting him in a different light. Here, with the omniscient gaze, assured tilt of his chin, graceful poise; he looks like the King he is.

And through a funny quirk of fate, he is all yours.

Your chest begins to ache, you raise a hand to it and frown in confusion. It's like your soul is pining, calling out for help.

Morpheus is by your side in an instant.

"I need to touch your bare skin again."

You waste no time in permitting this, shrugging out of your coat and letting it fall onto the black marble floor. Next to be shed are your heeled boots and socks. The height difference between you is lengthened by a couple of inches as you relax the tendons in your feet. You're left in your underwear after you take off your button-up blouse and trousers.

Morpheus' lips part as he observes your body. His eyes dart up and down and you can see the hunger within the darkening irises. His long fingers skim liberally and indiscriminately across your skin, diligently taking away the pain and cataloguing the sensitivity of your body at the same time.

The fingers of his right hand then twitch and his all-black ensemble dissolves into nothing, leaving him completely naked.

Your flush must be fuchsia as you notice his size, and twitches that traverse the length. You look to your own pile of clothes that took you several minutes to remove, hoping that a change of focus will steady your stomach's ever burgeoning butterflies. "That was efficient."

"Once you are dressing in garments created in the Dreaming, I will be able to disrobe you just the same."

You're not entirely sure how you feel about that. It's risky yet also kind of sexy.

"As long as you don't ever do it in front of people by accident," you assert playfully.

"You need not worry, I would never do such a thing to taint your honour."

You nod and close the gap between you.

To say you are astounded by his nude form would be an understatement. Whispers of sinew cord through slender limbs and across his torso, and for each angular peak proffered by bone there is a counteracting swathe of soft, flawless skin that covers it.

You yearn to touch him.

Morpheus' stares are intense as you place your palm over his heart. He hums out a sound of pleasure at the warmth this new skin-on-skin contact has created.

He draws you closer and suddenly lifts you off the ground, knocking the breath out of your lungs. You feel safe in the strength he possesses yet you cling to him with all four limbs regardless, pressing against his bare chest. Having so much of his skin against yours is creating a heat that is close to burning in the most wonderful way.

He lays you onto the bed and watches you with unwavering focus.

"Are you going to perform for me again, or would you like me to take control?"

The notion of that kind of pleasure being administered by him causes your reply to be breathless, "Touch me again, please."

The mattress dips slowly as he gracefully joins you on the bed, straddling himself on top of you.

He starts with your face, caressing you with adoration. Next, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulders before reaching down your body. One hand fondles your breasts while the other cups between your legs. You sigh, relishing in the warmth and how slowly he is taking things.

Deft fingers then dip below the waistband of your underwear.

You jolt and moan, simultaneously thrilled and taken off guard.

"Good," he says with dark delight. "You respond well to me."

He teases at your entrance and you are all at once very overwhelmed.

"I look forward to seeing how you react when I push inside you."

It truly does sound like something you want him to do - you've longed for a physical relationship for years however there's a detail that you know your soulmate should be privy to before you try. How it will be received, you cannot begin to guess, but you need to be upfront.

"I've never been with anyone in that way," your words sounding even more vulnerable than you feel.

Morpheus stops his attentions immediately and for a handful of heartbeats, you are admonishing yourself for the bluntness of your admission.

He moves back up your body and his eyes find yours. His expression is gentle and devoid of judgement, the following sentence backing up what your optic nerves are perceiving.

"Then I will teach you."

He presses a single chaste kiss to your lips; an act that seals his promise. Your apprehension melts away. You run your hands through his hair as you bask in the sweetness of the moment. The Fates were right: Morpheus really is perfect for you.

"I am going to worship you now."

He's ridding you of your bra and underwear immediately after you consent. The second he sees you fully bared, his eyes turn black.

You wonder what you've just agreed to.

He kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed, grabs your ankles and pulls you towards him until your legs hang off the edge.

You've seen depictions of oral sex in media however you have always reasoned that they are likely to be unrealistic; fantasies created in controlled environments and you would be naïve to hope that it could be like that for you, when it happened. Until now. Morpheus is the expert in dreams after all. Maybe you are allowed to get your hopes up.

His lips tease your inner thighs as he settles himself closer and closer to your throbbing, wet core until you feel the tickling of his breath.

He observes for a moment, part your folds with a single finger, grasps your hips and then goes down on you like you are an enticing, delectable treat that must be devoured.

Your lips falls open as his own closes around your clit. The heat that is brought from this touch is an inferno. You moan, and look at him, at this otherworldly being smothering you so adeptly, and how his intense eyes dance with pleasure of their own. He is enjoying this. It makes you gush.

Morpheus, taking advantage of this, very quickly collects the slick on both his index fingers and reaches up to lubricate your hardened nipples with it.

You groan from this additional stimulation and throw your head back with abandon, getting a good view of the vaulted ceiling above you and the seemingly literal constellations that float glimmering and glowing in the rafters.

Soon you are writhing on the cool silk of the sheets and he is forced to resume holding your hips to keep you still.

He then switches to a two-fronted approach. Two fingers sink into your cunt, the thumb of the same hand curling up to press on your clit. It's quite the step - letting another person inside your most intimate place and his reverent groans at feeling your tightness envelop his digits shows that he acknowledges this too. All it takes is a few deep, well angled pumps and then you are granted a mind-shattering orgasm.

His hand presses into the softness of your lower abdomen and the ecstasy becomes ten fold. You repeatedly moan his name as vibrant colours explode behind your eyelids, like the green and purple phosphenes that form if you rub your eyes too hard.

"Was that to your satisfaction?" He asks once your body has gone limp.

You look at Morpheus through the pulsing haze of aftershocks; his cheek resting against your inner thigh as his skin gleams with the same divinely beautiful quality as the stars above you.

"It was more than that," you declare emotionally.

What he's just given you is beyond your highest hopes of what intimacy could be. You had let another person see you at your most vulnerable, and reaped the rewards of that trust. Now, you must show your devotion to him.

"Your turn."

He stands and shakes his head. "No."

You are crestfallen but catch on when he begins to spread pre-cum over the length of his erection.

"Oh, um, Morpheus, I'm sorry. I don't think I can take you right now."

The notion of any kind of touching so soon after climaxing would be the guarantor of pain.

He ignores you, his movements calculated as he adjusts your position; arranging you in the centre of the mattress and splaying your trembling legs.

"Morpheus. I appreciate that I'm inexperienced but I know my body. I can't -"

His tone is dangerous as he interrupts you, "You are my soulmate. You have been made for me and as such, you will be able to take me."

You sit up. "I want to do things for you too."

He climbs on top of you, takes your wrists in his long-fingered hands and leverages you back towards horizontal.

You still don't concede. "Morpheus, tell me what you want."

His voice rumbles with authority, "I want to fuck you without delay. Pour myself into you. Possess you. Merge with you and have us become one."

He ups the persuasive tactics, leaning in close so all you can see are dark eyelashes framing even darker eyes. The heat under your skin is stifling.

"This is the final stage in your awakening. Don't you want to know what will happen when it's done? Allow me to guide you there. Be your first and only, make you feel exquisite with my touch."

He places a palm onto your chest and smiles a twisted smile when a luscious shuddering in that spot above your sternum makes you whimper and squirm.

"Submit to fate," he whispers. "Let me tie our souls together."

He is so eloquent and compelling and he delivers the killer blow as he lines his thick, long cock up at your entrance.

"Will you surrender yourself to me, Y/N?"

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Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"In the middle of the night in my dreams, you should see the things we do. In the middle of the night in my dreams, I know I'm going to be with you so I take my time. Are you ready for it?"

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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 month

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📸: el.eme

#placebo #brian molko #stefan olsdal #pretty #my heart #when can I see them again please?#favourite band

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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 month

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Please mr sandman kidnap me from reality

#gorgeous #tom sturridge #the sandman #sandman netflix #lord morpheus #saskia shares sandman

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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 month

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Do you have many requests in your inbox?

Hi there! Hope you are doing well. Thank you for reaching out to me. I have one Sandman request in my inbox which I'll be working on after I've finished 'Sometimes It's Fated'. It's the first request I've ever had and I hope I can do it justice 🥹❤️

#saskia writes sandman

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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 month

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How many parts do you think “Sometimes It's Fated” will have?😍😍😍 I am loving it!!

Hi there! Hope you are doing well. Thank you so much for reaching out to me <3

I definitely know how I want it to end but if I'm being completely honest, I am not sure how many parts it will take to get there. I only ever intended it to be a two-shot so the creativity it's sparked in me to write more is very exciting.

What I can say for sure is that there will definitely be a part 4 and the forecast is predicting smut!

#saskia writes sandman #sometimes it's fated

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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 month

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In repose

#beautiful #dream of the endless #morpheus #the sandman #saskia shares sandman

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 months

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Dearest @marlowe-zara thank you for tagging me ❤️ I very much enjoyed reading your answers and having a little peek into your life. We have quite a few things in common!

Are you named after anyone? Not that I know of but I know my mum liked the name since she was young.

When was the last time you cried? Monday while watching episode 12 of One Day. The scene at the end unexpectedly hit me in the feels.

Do you have kids? No. However, I am auntie to 6 month old fraternal twin girls. They have recently started laughing and it is pure joy to witness.

What sports do you play/have you played? I did a variety of enforced sports/dance at school, with badminton being my favourite. Exercise for me now is usually biking places I can get to without needing a car/public transport, as well as walking and yoga.

Do you use sarcasm? Only around people I trust or in situations where I can get away with it.

What is the first thing you notice about people? Eyes. And body language. I'm also fascinated by people's clothes, shoes, accessories and makeup.

What's your eye colour? Blue, with a ring of hazel around my irises.

Scary movies or happy endings? There's a risk I'll get night terrors off scary movies so I tend to avoid them. Happy endings are nice but not necessary for me to enjoy something.

Any talents? Remembering song lyrics, even to songs I don't particularly enjoy!

Where were you born? The UK.

What are your hobbies? Writing, reading, photography, felt crafting.

Do you have any pets? No.

How tall are you? 5'6".

Favourite subject in school? Geography. It used to be chemistry until I did it for A-Levels and then suddenly none of it made any sense...

Dream job? Maybe a writer. I'm always afraid that if it became my job rather than a hobby then I might not enjoy as much.

Tagging: @theviridianbunny @dotieeee @sturridges @littledollll @annievvv7 @ellooo0ooo @aralezinspace @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland

Thanks to the lovely and ever-thoughtful @sigurism for tagging me ☺️💓

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Are you named after anyone? No, not intentionally.

When was the last time you cried? I really don't know. I rarely cry over "real life" stuff; I tend to go immediately into fix-or-cope mode. When it all builds up and I'm overwhelmed, then I might cry. I'm much more likely to tear up when watching a movie or listening to a piece of music.

Do you have kids? Yes, fraternal twin girls. They're such awesome little people.

What sports do you play/have you played? Soccer, like a lifetime ago. Also marching band in HS and college, does that count?

Do you use sarcasm? Maybe too much. I can't really be sarcastic in my work, so it all comes out for my friends and family.

What is the first thing you notice about people? Their eyes (window to the soul and all that). And if they take themselves too seriously... because life's too short.

What's your eye color? Green 💚

Scary movies or happy endings? Neither? Both? Depends on my mood and the season.

Any talents? I like to think so.

Where were you born? Midwest USA represent

What are your hobbies? Reading, traveling outside the USA whenever I can, taking pretty pictures, and psychologizing into the void.

Do you have any pets? Not since my two kitties died of advanced age. They were littermates, and my sidekicks through grad school and into my adult life (including parenthood). One of my daughters is allergic, so... no pets for now.

How tall are you? 5'1". Small but fierce.

Favorite subject in school? Reading. Writing. Psychology. I've taught college courses in Psychopathology and Developmental Psychology, and really love both of those subjects.

Dream job? What I'm doing now (pediatric psychologist), but with the salary of my physician colleagues 🙄

Tagging: @writing-for-life @4typercent @sturridges @tsintotwo @tickldpnk8 @withoutyouimsaskia @mlabyrinth @klarahimmeltheendless @windsweptinred @rey-jake-therapist @sammacgarben

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 months

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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

GIF: Originally posted by @sassycherryblossomtree

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dubious/non consent. Physical intimacy.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: What a full on week! I've had a job interview. Got turned down for said job. Went to a Sandman filming location (Natural History Museum) and watched Dune Part 2 (cannot recommend enough). It took away from my writing time a bit but part 3 is here now, and I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think. Part 4 will be coming soon. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

"Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

The sentence is a catalyst, fuelling the physical and emotional reactions in both the surroundings and your body.

The wind is gone, leaving a claustrophobic air that crackles with untameable energy. The streetlight above violently flickers and flares, the unmistakable noise of a circuit about to overload emanating with each surge.

You feel these surges within your chest too, stoking the warmth radiating through you to an uncontrollable blaze. The ferocity of the sensation makes you whimper.

The man's hands are still touching you. Cradling your face and holding your hand; he feels the tremble that couples with your vocalisation.

"I understand. I feel it too," he whispers. "Though I imagine it is much more intense for your mortal heart to bear."

He eyes are raven black as he strokes his thumb back and forth over your cheek, before strengthening the hold he has on your face.

"Let me kiss the pain away."

He gives you no time to respond. He leans in the last few centimetres and puts his lips firmly against yours.

At first, contrary to his intent, the pain amplifies. He grunts, indicating that he has felt this spike also yet begins to move his lips regardless. It's like your heart is a balloon and it is being overfilled with air, close to exploding and obliterating you from existence. You then feel as if you are about to black out and want to pull away, and are about to try when the agony starts to subside.

The seduction begins.

The fire is mellowing with each press of his mouth, transforming into a restorative, yet sensuous energy. It's alleviation akin to calamine on a sunburn.

It awakens a primal need in your soul. This man is fundamental to you. He is the only one who can truly protect you from harm. You must remain with him. Give yourself to him.

You act on this revelation and kiss him back with a hunger that you didn't think you were capable of demonstrating.

Your reciprocation sends him into a frenzy. He cages you against the damp wall of the building and kisses you with unyielding, dangerous passion.

His skill is impressive, changing technique frequently to keep you guessing. Smothering kisses, bruising kisses, slower kisses to give you time to breathe. The hand that was cupping your face is now stroking down your side; breasts, waist, hips and back up again.

Tentatively, you raise your free hand to the back of his head and run your fingers through his wild hair. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, a satisfied vibrating sigh of sorts that encourages you to dig deeper into the silken locks.

He escalates things by slipping his tongue into your mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smirk as you moan in response. His taste is a potent blend: a smoky base, herbaceous core and ambrosial top notes. You are drunk on it, and him seconds after exposure.

Logic has left you. Schedules and duties cast aside.

The juxtaposition between the present and minutes prior would be frightening if not for how correct all this feels. You had been disgusted and alarmed by his conduct, ready to bring in reinforcements and then all of it had dissipated like dust under a short, sharp breath.

It is not a ridiculous change in behaviour; you were supposed to be doing this. This stranger is all you want.

He pulls back when even his slower kisses are unable to calm your elevated respiratory rate, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he does so to draw another moan from you.

The blue of his eyes shimmer with a myriad of emotions. Lust stands out the most along with awe and relief. Your cheeks prickle with a light blush as he continues to stare and document every detail.

"I have been waiting to do that for thousands of years, my precious soulmate," he eventually says in reference to the kiss after absorbing your image for a while.

There's that word again. Soulmate. You hadn't exactly been allowed a period of contemplation when the man first uttered it, too swept up in the fire and his touch, but now with the semi-reinstation of coherent thoughts you begin to assess. It proves difficult. Your cerebral matter feels like a mixture of treacle, sap and epoxy. Trapping words and slowing down your processing power. It would be so simple to let yourself live in this mental mire and be carried along by his whims.

No. You scold inwardly. Ask a question.

"What do you mean by soulmates?" You force yourself to speak.

He guides your palm to rest on his heart and sets up a mirror image with his hand on your chest. "It means that we are bound together, made for one another."

The next question is easier to form. "And what now, given that you've found me?"

"Now," His hips grind into yours. "I will continue with the ritual of awakening you to the metaphysical connection between us, stripping back the shrouds and glamours that have been protecting your mind from the gravity of this gift."

That explained why everything shifted when he first touched your skin.

"Are you going to do that here?" Your brain is really starting to break free of its trappings and you need to ascertain his plan for it sounds like his intentions are of a sexual nature and you are in a public place.

"No, your time in this world has reached its end. I will take you to my realm, lead you to my chambers and I will not stop stimulating you until I have taken residence in your every thought, every cell."

The speed and confidence with which he is pouring forth all of these sentiments, and the near-full recovery of your mental faculties triggers a wave of nausea. Perspiration forms on your nape and ears and your core temperature feels off; warning signs that you get when you are about to vomit.

He still hasn't let go of your hand. You hone in on the softness of his skin, hoping you can use him as an anchor as you wade through the icky symptoms.

Recent events are starting to catch up with you. You replay it all.

Soulmates. Mortal. Thousands of years. Metaphysical. Realm. The unexplainable environmental manifestations. The strange shifting qualities of his eyes. What kind of supernatural devilry had you managed to become ensnared in?

Was he in fact the devil?

You are so conflicted. This being, for you are convinced that 'man' is no longer the correct term, is telling you things that threaten your entire way of life and your heart is pushing you to seek comfort from him!

Then the voices start.

Your sense of balance tilts and you instinctively grasp his forearm for stability. He says your name and you drag your focus from your thoughts to his face. He is looking at you with deep concern.

"Tell me," he commands gently.

"I feel dizzy... And I can hear voices."

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many voices?"

Your eyes are wide as you struggle to understand the relevance of his question.

You stammer out a couple of syllables.

"Breathe," he encourages.

You obey and concentrate on the hubbub.

"Three. Everything is being repeated three times."

The frown lines smooth and he is smiling faintly. "It seems The Fates are vying for your attention."

"The Fates? Like in Greek mythology?"

"The very same."

Was this being a God then?

"They're telling me to close my eyes," you relay as soon as the instruction is delivered.

He nods. "That will be the trigger that transports your mind to their location."

"Will I pass out?"

"No. It will be a temporary connection that keeps your body frozen for mere moments."

"I feel so dizzy though."

"I can hold you while you converse with them should you wish."

You nod somewhat frenetically as a sliver of fear creeps into your mind. "Yes, please."

He lets go of your hand for the first time since you tried to go back in the building, slips his arms around your waist and he pulls you close with a satisfied sigh. The neediness with which you are clinging to him lessens your apprehension just a little.

"How does that feel?" His voice rumbles deliciously through your chest.

"Good, thank you."

"You should close your eyes now. It is best that you do not keep them waiting."

"Okay."

"I'll see you in a few moments."

You shut your eyes.

----------------

The scene you awaken in is all lemon yellows, blush pinks and pastel blues. There's no landforms or structures. Just a never-ending stretch of bedrock, topped with a horizon that is beginning to show a sumptuous sunset.

You squint a little and then notice that there is a actually a point of interest. A lump of rough rock, waist height. There's a divot worn into the top that makes the obtrusion look like a font. For a moment you see a single figure standing at it.

A figure that appears to have three faces.

But then you blink and the number has tripled.

Maiden, Mother and Crone.

The trio block the worst of the sun glare, and the light that isn't obscured is highlighting the translucent layers that overflow from their intricately constructed and adorned outfits. Their curly hair, like the fabric of their clothes, flows freely in the gentle breeze.

You walk towards the group, thinking back to that term in school where you studied Greek mythology. Under no circumstances did you ever think that any of it could possibly be true, yet here you were.

You stop a respectable distance from them and quickly avert your eyes downwards to look at the ruby ring on your right hand.

One of them speaks, "You need not be intimidated by us, sweetness."

"I only wish to pay respect to you, your Graces."

You chance a peek at the Fates and see amusement in their eyes.

"Oh, you are going to fit in very well in his world," the Mother says with a smile.

You don't know what to feel about that comment however you don't have time to dwell on it for the eldest addresses you.

"Come closer. Let us look at you."

And look they did. Their resolute gazes are just as discerning as the stranger's but unlike his, where you knew he was soaking you in, you feel like the Fates are seeing through you.

You don't know what exactly it is that they are looking for but their smiles give the impression of being appeased.

"Has Morpheus told you how this will go?"

"No..." You hesitate before speaking his name, "Morpheus has not."

"He didn't tell you his name, did he?"

"We didn't get a lot of time for small talk," you admit sheepishly.

"We can see that from the state of your lips."

"He always was rather forward with his physical affection."

"Touch starved," the Crone finishes.

You are beyond embarrassed. How swollen were your lips for it to be that obvious? You can almost feel his touch now, it tingles like phantom caresses on the skin of your neck, chest and waist. You swallow hard before further lust can thicken your throat.

The Fates then speak in turn again, explaining the context of your rendezvous.

"You will have the opportunity to ask three questions."

"That is the custom when meeting with us."

"There is no need to rush."

Choosing only three questions will be tough when there are hundreds you could ask. Were you losing your sanity? Was Morpheus a demonic envoy from the underworld sent to corrupt your mind?

You suppose all you really want to know is whether this is real.

"Is he telling the truth about us being soulmates?"

The Maiden answers in a musical voice, "He is. The confluence of yours and Morpheus' lives has been written for millennia. Your souls have been intended for each other since he came into existence. You were never meant for anyone else but him."

You feel like you are about to cry. That last statement cuts deeply.

"All those times that potential partners lost interest or ghosted me. It was because of this soulmates thing," you murmur the statement, aware that you don't need to ask them to know if it is true.

Years of heartache and confusion had been for nothing. The nights spent wondering if you had done something wrong, the days where you threw yourself into your work to distract from it.

You cannot regret all the good things you managed to create as part of your team at the charity yet it is hard to look past the personal torment that countless unexplained rejections caused. You are human after all.

Selfishness rears its head and pushes the next question from your mouth with a tone of indignation.

"Why am I only finding out about this now?"

The Mother takes over, tone caring and brown eyes cordial, "It was not necessary for you to know."

Ire disintegrates into frustration. "But I could have been preparing. Not building a life that I was clearly going to have to give up."

"You would not be the person you are had we given you warning. You needed to live as a human, not as someone who was fated to be with the King of Dreams and Nightmares. Besides, there was no possibility of you being together. For 106 years, Morpheus was the prisoner of a human, and it was the recent end of his captivity that allowed fate to take its intended course. Reaching your potential on Earth gives you a strong foundation from which to guide and influence him in how to best serve humanity, and learn to trust in them once more after what he suffered at the hands of one."

The amount of information you have just received is like a freight train. One after the other, the revelations barrel into you and you take refuge in your mind.

The King of Dreams and Nightmares; not a title you had heard of before. Yet there is a strange sense of recognition. A forgotten memory that barely flickers with life. You ignore the niggling thought and focus on the more devastating one.

This King, your soulmate was held against his will, subjected to suffering. You cannot bear the idea of it regardless of how few details you have at present. Your chest aches and you know your soul is the source.

Fury twitches in your fingers, as fiery as the now burnt oranges and bloody reds of the ever-progressing sunset. You want to know who could do such a terrible thing but you realise that it is not the most important question you could be asking.

You look back to the Fates. You note their proud smiles at your restraint.

"What role am I expected to play in his future?"

The Crone moves to centre stage, "You are to be his everything. Muse. Lover. Queen. Advisor. Confidant."

Your stomach twists.

"Are you ready to return to him?" The Maiden asks, taking you off guard.

You feel like you a patron being kicked out at closing time with half a drink left. A fizzy one that you can't knock back easily.

What you've just been told honestly scares you. It's a mountain of expectation, the sort of thing that could birth an inferiority complex. There's also your self-preservation instinct starting to scream. You've seen darkness in his eyes, felt his physical strength and heard how resolute his statements are.

You have to say something.

"I'm worried about what would happen if I disappoint him, if he would hurt me."

The trio step closer, the scant remnants of sunlight reflect off their perceptive eyes and the metal of their matching earrings.

The Crone speaks solemnly, "It has been well-documented that Morpheus has a ruthless nature. As one of the Endless siblings, he is among the most powerful beings in the universe; equal parts creator, and destroyer."

The Mother touches your cheek with a warm hand. "But you have just as much power to hurt him, sweetness. We have provided you with it."

The Maiden nods in agreement, and takes your hand.

"He deals in fears, yes but his domain also lies in fantasies. He will be able to furnish you with yours. He has been made to be perfect for you."

"But -"

"This is not a loss of agency or an act of surrender. Put aside your qualms, listen to your soul and ask yourself this: do you find him attractive?"

"Yes." He's the most attractive person you've ever seen.

"Do you care for him?"

"Yes." Your reaction to his imprisonment is evidence enough of that.

"Do you want to a chance of happiness?"

"Yes." Deep down beneath all the doubt and overthinking and catastrophising, it's exactly what you want.

You want Morpheus.

"I'm ready," you say calmly.

You take a step back from the Fates and bow.

"Thank you for your time, your Graces."

The sky is an inky violet with daubs of dark blue, the sun is a thin line on the horizon. It sets, signalling the end of the meeting and your time as an ordinary mortal.

"Fare you well," the Fates' voices echo in unison as everything fades to black.

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Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"Deep in my heart, deep in my mind. Take me away, take me away. This is my word, dream maker, life taker. Open up my mind."

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