#c!dream x reader

[hatchetislostpog]

c!Dream: [turning around in a swivel chair in a dimly lit room] I’ve been expecting you.

Y/n: You practiced that, didn’t you?

c!Dream: I did! Thank you for noticing

#dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp x y/n #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #dsmp x reader #dream x y/n #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream smp x you #dwt x reader #c!dream x reader #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp x you #dsmp headcanon #dsmp dream

[calmthefuckdownalright]

"I like a man in uniform" HC's Dsmp

I have witnessed so many cosplays of L'manbur and GOOD GOD do some of you look wonderful. My favorite has to be the ones on the railroad tracks. Just the aesthetic is 👏👏👏. But yes I got inspired and this is the result.

Warnings: flirting, very little plot development, and flustered peoples. Very short 🙂

Summary: How some of the DSMP might react to you telling them you like them in uniform.

Contains: Quackity, Wilbur, Schlatt, Dream, and Ranboo (jokingly bc why not?)

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Quackity

(By uniform you meant his suspenders and red ascot/scarf thing. Y'know professional capitalist look ✨)

Honestly Quackity would just minorly panic but quickly throw on the charm

"Eeeeyyy really?! You do? Didn't take you for that kinda chica mamcita!"

Very ego boosting. Definitely a mistake to voice aloud.

Wilbur

(L'manbur in other words)

Finds it very nice and might stutter a little as he tries to avoid the obvious romantic comment

"Oh why thank you. Its ✨hand tailored✨."

Tommy in the background: "yeah his mum made it for him."

"You're wearing the EXACT same uniform!"

A scuffle breaks out between the two and you sit there eating popcorn.

Or

"Y/N I have a child."

Fundy in the background: "I'm twenty Wil-"

"And I love you my little champion ~"

It turns into a corny little minute of Wilbur just coddling Fundy.

OR (for you more romantic folk)

"Really? It's a bitch to get off, perhaps you'd like to help me this evening after dinner?" {insert winky face}

Smooth ass motherfucker right there

Schlatt

You have to grab Schlatt and fix his tie for him before you even say anything.

"Excuse me? What the fuck does that mean?!"

Totally flips out, turns a little red. If he's got a drink in his hand he drops it

Schlatt would grab you by the wrist and demand an explanation to which you'd boop his nose and reveal nothing.

It sets him on edge for the whole rest of the day. Like literally he's checking every reflective surface if his tie and jacket are straight.

Very subtle in the fact he really needed that to come from you of all people.

Dream

Orange jumpsuits really?

"Are you talking about my armor or how I am now?"

If you say his armor-

"Help me out of here and I'll wear it anywhere if you want."

If you say his jumpsuit-

"So you're into bad boys huh? Well lucky for you I'm clearly pretty bad at a lot of things."

Something cheesy that makes you giggle which makes him light up inside.

Ranboo (platonic joke-ish)

Stuttering fumbling mess

Like mans cannot keep themselves together

You start laughing with Tubbo and earn several gifted subs off the bet you wouldn't say it

"Ranboo it was a bet calm down!"

"You're despicable."

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#dream smp headcanons #c!wilbur soot x reader #c!quackity x reader #c!schlatt x reader #c!dream x reader #c!ranboo x reader (platonic) #Headcannons #dsmp #dream smp #quackity #wilbur soot #dream #ranboo #jschlatt

[theredflagsjustlooklikeflags]

Discipline (Yandere! C! Dream X Reader)

TW: toxic relationships, delusional mindset and yanderes

Dream was irritated. It was a long day. He had to deal with the problem child, Tommyinnit and his patience was becoming thinner by the minuete.

At least, he’d be back to his beloved soon. As Dream was making his way through the woods, he fantized what his return to the cottage would be like.

The masked man would slowly knock on the door twice. Then, (Reader) would swing it open, sporting a glowing smile. Dream’s face would immediately light up when he sees their contagious grin.

After, (Reader )would wrap their arms around his neck while he gently grabs onto their hips. He would take off his mask and then the two would then close the space between them.

He was knocked out of his delusions when he spotted (Reader) standing at the door with their desperately grasping the bottom of their shirt. Their gaze was fixed to the ground.

The man shook his head. What the hell where they doing out out of the cottage? He told them they weren’t allowed to step foot outside unless he was there. (Reader) was far to fragile.

He approached them in a hurry. His boots echoing on the ground. (Reader)’s head shot up.

Anger was present in their eyes. Why are they angry. He should be the one that’s angry. Dream should be enraged. How dare they disobey him, after everything he’s done for them.

His eyes narrowed as he towered over them.

“Dream.” (Reader) spoke as they stalked up to him with an intense glared present on their face. “Wh-“

“Get back inside.” He whispered in a tone so calm that it was eerie.

“No.” They stood their ground. He then leaned down and whispered

“(Reader), I’ll only say it once. Get your ass back in the cottage or their will be consequences.” He scolded them like one would a child.

“Fuck you.”

Dream’s lips formed a little smirk at their words. This was gonna be good. He thought he needed a break after dealing with To my, but maybe he truly craved was this.

“What did you say?” He said this while slowly advancing towards them.

(Reader)’s rage quickly morphed into fear as they backed up back inside the house.

Once he was in the house, Dream tore off his mask. He then, locked the door.

People needed discipline to stay discipline. Whether that be someone like Tommy or someone like (Reader). Dream needed to teach them. He needed to teach the world that no one talks back to him.

No one.

@haannaa1 @aspengracek-twitchtv

#yandere dsmp #yandere dreamwastaken #yandere dreamsmp #yandere dream smp #dsmp angst #dsmp x you #dsmp #dsmp fic #dsmp x reader #c!dream x you #c!dream x reader #c!dream #dream #yandere dream #yandere!dream

[vespertineneon]

(These are Yandere HCs, and all the characters are C!)

RamHybrid!Reader Drabble.

CW: Mention of breaking horns. That’s it I think.

What would each character do with the horns n shit??

Quackity would leave em be. He thinks they’re cute. If you tried to use them to hurt him, he’d put some kind of protective installment on them. Some mental plate over it that keeps it from piercing skin.

Awesamdude would probably do the same as Quackity. Except he’d do that the moment he got you.

Sapnap would literally sand them down. Not too much, and not anywhere close to your nerves.

Dream, this fucker. He’d sand em down to stubs. Hitting REALLY close to where your nerves start. He’d threaten to break them off if he’s really mad at you.

And Techno would leave them be. He knows full well that whatever you try to do isn’t gonna hurt him. And he knows that you know better.

#dsmp fanfic #dsmp #quackity #awesamedude #dream #technoblade #warden sam #c!techo x reader #yandere x reader #c!quackity x reader #c!sam x reader #c!dream x reader #yandere DSMP x reader

[thatonecoryosimp]

c!Dream x Assasian!Reader (unfinished smut)

Hello, my lovelies! So this was an idea I had whenever I was bored. I was thinking about the reader being hired by Wilbur to hopefully 'take care of' Dream but it not going to plan. Also, I ordered the new Dream merch because I'm a material gorl.

Warnings: Objectification, use of the word slut and fuck toy, unfinished. (If you want me to write the actual smut I will).

7/16/22

The job was supposed to be simple. A quick in and out and then I would be paid. I didn't fear him. I never did. He was nothing more than a man that relied on people's weaknesses.

But then he grabbed me. Holding my wrist right as the dagger pressed against his neck. His eyes had opened, shining emerald in the moonlight. He looked at me for a second before having the audacity to grin at me. The bastard was smiling.

His grip tightened until I dropped the diamond weapon.

"You couldn't have picked a better weapon? That's a bit pathetic, don't you think?"

My other hand came to take a swing at him but he caught that one too.

"You don't know when to stop, huh?"

He held both my wrists with one hand as he grabbed the dagger and sat it to the side. A look of panic crossed my face as he pulled me to him.

"Now, why would Wilbur send such a gorgeous woman to do his dirty work?"

I must have given him a confused look because he laughed and pulled me on top of him.

"You're forgetting that all letters that are sent go through my kingdom."

I am such a dumbass.

His face got close to my ear, his hand brushing away the stray hairs.

"I could have you killed for this."

My breath hitched and he chuckled again.

"But, I'm not going to. It would be such a shame to put someone like you to waste."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Make you my live-in slut."

"You're fucking crazy if you think that I'm going to agree to that!"

"Oh, so you want to die? Because that's your only other choice, doll. I'm not all bad, I'll treat you well." His lips were now ghosting down my neck to the cut in my shirt. "All you gotta do is make your decision, I could kill you, or you could live in luxury. Not having to find odd jobs to live, supplied with anything you could possibly desire, and being treated like royalty by my kingdom and staff. You could get fucked whenever you liked, filled up until you're satisfied. Doesn't that sound nice?"

I looked off to the side as he started working his mouth against my neck, slowly sucking on the sensitive skin. The offer did sound nice, but was I willing to let go of my dignity so I wouldn't die?

My head was tilted up as he started working on another spot closer to my collar bone, his hair now being pressed to my lower jaw.

I mean, I don't really need dignity, do I?

"Okay."

He pulled back and smiled, tilting his head a bit, "Okay to what?"

"I'll be your fuck toy."

"Aww, c'mon. You don't have to phrase it like that," his hands started tracing down my sides and underneath my shirt. Pulling the fabric up and over my head, "You're my princess."

~~~

I'm kinda tired ngl. I've been like that a lot recently. I haven't been able to sleep at night even though it's hard to keep my eyes open. It's like my body physically won't let me.

Anyways, stay safe, and drink water.

Love you,

~Jules <3

#dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #dream x reader smut #x reader smut #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #c!dream x reader smut #c!dream x reader #x reader

[enderpearl-earrings]

You Weren’t Alone After All (C!Dream x GN Reader)

Angst?? On MY page?? Please send requests, what am I supposed to do, come up with ideas myself?? Awful. GN is gender neutral btw :)

This is a shorter one shot than I usually do, but honestly it’s easier for me to write for the ccs since there is so much lore that I’m not caught up with

“I love you.” The man towered above you as he spoke, porcelain mask slick with rain. Beads of water dripped from his dirty blond hair that was tied back in a haste. The grey sky dampened the mood of what was supposed to be a happy occasion. You had been waiting for him to say those three words to you for years. 

He extended a gloved hand to you, pushing aside his green cloth cloak. As you reached out to him, a pang inside you told you that something was off. Hesitating, you drew your hand back. 

“What’s the matter, love?” As he tilted his head to the side, his colors blended together a minuscule amount, something that would only be noticeable to someone who had been here before many a time. 

“Please stop.” The teardrops that stung your eyes were involuntary. You hadn’t yet put your finger on what was wrong, why you had felt you had lived this memory already, or why him saying those three words you had always wanted him to only made you feel hurt inside.

“Y’know something I’ve always admired about you is that you’re so...” He quieted for a moment, watching the tears slip down your face. “...pathetic.”

A crack of thunder woke you, eyes darting around the dark room in a panic. As you clutched your chest and tried to regain your breath, you could feel your heart race. Heaving out a sigh, you tucked your knees into your chest. 

Maybe this repetitive dream was telling you that you needed closure. You hadn’t seen Dream since the day he left, the rain pouring almost as hard as it was in the current moment. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the opportunity. You had plenty of chances before he was apprehended. You couldn’t face the distress of loving him and knowing he would not love you back. 

He wasn’t a good person. But that didn’t stop you from wanting him. More specifically, the him you met when you stumbled upon a small house in the middle of the lake. The man who cared for his friends, who laughed, who cried, who saddled up Spirit with you just to go on long horseback rides together. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe that was the same man who is sitting in Pandora’s Vault. But you hoped in desperation that he was in there somewhere. The last year had seeded doubts in you, wondering if the man you fell in love with was all just a ruse, a manipulation tactic. 

There was something still pulling you to him, even after you had distanced yourself from everyone who reminded you of him. You cut ties with George, Sapnap, Bad, Tommy, everyone. You thought if you could be alone, you could have a clean slate. But you were never alone. The ghost of Dream haunts you everywhere you turn, day and night. Such is life. 

You just had to go to the prison. There was no other option. Maybe if you saw him again, really saw him for what he was in that cell, you could move on, and be comfortable with the fact that he would spend the rest of his godforsaken life rotting behind those obsidian walls.

---

The ride to Pandora’s Vault was long, your horse displeased with his coat being drenched. The torrential downpour from last night had continued into the morning. You had tried to wait it out in your cabin, but it showed no sign of letting up. Not wanting to back down while you still had the courage, you tacked up and pressed on. 

Knowing your horse would not roam far, you unbridled him and released him to graze. Drawing in a deep breath, you approached the guard standing at the front doors, who escorted you to a lobby-looking area to wait for Sam. Once Sam had entered the room and given a slight nod, the guard returned to his post outside.

“Who are you.” The tone in Sam’s voice made it clear this was not a question.

“I’m here to see Dream. Is that okay?” Your voice grew meek as your word count increased. 

Sam pulled a trident out that had been strapped to his back, voice dark. “I said, who are you.” 

“I’m Y/n, I’m a--I used to be an old friend of Dream’s.” Taking a shaky breath, you continued. “I have no interest in aiding in his escape. All I seek is closure. I need to see for myself who he’s become.”

Sam scoffed. “What he is is a maximum-security prisoner charged with destroying L’Manberg and the Community House, attempting to frame Tommy, attempting total control--”

“I know, Sam. Please. Even just five minutes. Just a glimpse at him is all that I ask.” Your eyes plead for him to grant you this one thing. You would never bother him again if he let you have this.

Sam stayed silent as if he were made from obsidian and blackstone like the rest of the place. Finally, he spoke.

“Follow me. I’ll need all of your belongings besides the clothes on your back. This includes any armor, food, weapons, potions, etc.” Sam spoke in monotone as he was already moving toward the hallway as if he had given this speech many times before. You were just relieved he was granting you this one wish.

The item search got a little too close for your liking, but you understood that they couldn’t be too careful with a prisoner like Dream. It went fast enough, and your items had been secured in a locked chest. 

With each echoing step you took down the dark halls and into various rooms, your stomach twisted tighter. You didn’t expect visiting the prison to be a fun experience, but it was just hitting you how serious the situation is, and how dangerous Dream must be to have this many security measures in place. 

You hadn’t been paying attention to where you were going, too focused on convincing yourself not to turn tail and run. Just as you were about to tap Sam on the shoulder and tell him this was a mistake and apologies for wasting his time, he had announced you had arrived.

A wall of thick, flowing lava stood before you, searing your skin with its heat. Sam’s golden armor glowed in the orange light cast from the molten liquid. You were unsure how the cue was given to cut off the lava and extend the retractable bridge, but as soon as you would not be in danger of death from burning or a fall, Sam shoved you forward.

“You have an hour. I’ll come to retrieve you in exactly 60 minutes. Your time starts now.” Just as Sam is almost out of view, he turns back to add, “If you’re in mortal danger, call for help. There are cameras present.”

“Gee, that’s comforting.” You murmur, wincing as the sound of lava beginning to fall hits your ears. Looking around the room sent you into a panic. Upon first glance, you couldn’t find Dream. Sam had prided this prison as inescapable, but what if he had? 

“Tommy, I already told you--”

“I’m not Tommy.” You most likely wouldn’t have noticed where Dream was if he hadn’t spoken. He was sitting next to the lectern in such a way that it was almost hiding him.

“Oh.” All of the emotion drained from his voice, his shoulders slumping as he continued to face forward, head down. It stung a little that he seemed to not care who you were or why you were there. 

His orange jumpsuit was shredded in places as if he got in a fight and it was never replaced. His hair once had a shine to it, but now it was dull as could be. It had grown long, falling to a low point on his back. It looked matted and greasy as if he hadn’t had a shower in a long time. 

“Dream...it’s Y/n.” You began to approach him at a slow pace as if he were a wild animal you did not want to spook. As you sat down in front of him, he raised his head but did nothing else. 

Tears began to build in the corners of your eyes as you looked at his face. His face had been so marred with scars that it was difficult to see the freckles that used to be his defining feature. Some scars looked old, others new. His once bright green eyes were almost as dull as his hair. His mask that you had rarely seen him without laid at his feet, in pieces. 

“So now you decide to visit after I’ve taken a dive off the deep end. Some friend you are.” So he did remember you. If the words themselves weren’t enough of a context clue, the bitter pain in his voice told you all you needed to know. 

“Don’t put this on me. You lost yourself a long time ago.” You rested your palms on the floor, ready to run if he swung at you.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Sarcasm dripped off of every word.

“We tried to save you from yourself, Dream! Sapnap, George, and I! But you never listened. You and your god complex ruined your life, not us!” Tears fell down your face and onto the obsidian floor. “Don’t you dare tell me no one was there for you!”

“You know what is on you? It’s your mistake for trusting me. Maybe I was never that guy who you say I was. Maybe all I am is a toxic manipulator with a god complex.” Dream snapped back, words stinging you like poison.

“Yeah, I did make a mistake. And that mistake was ever falling in love with you. You’ve caused me nothing but suffering but I still am not over you. I want to believe that guy I fell in love with is in there but...” Holding your face in your hands, you let out a sob. You were so engrossed in your own emotions that you didn’t notice him grow quiet.

“You love me?” His now raspy voice fell just above a whisper.

“Unfortunately. All I ever wanted was for you to love me back, was for you to say you loved me. That’s what I wanted that day you left, when I poured my heart out to you, telling you not to go.” Voice shaking, you pressed on. “But you made your decision that day. You turned your back on everyone who cared about you.”

Shoulders shaking, you held your knees in a vice grip. 

“I’m sorry I ever felt anything for a monster like you.” If you had looked up from the obsidian floor, you would have noticed Dream’s expression crack at the sudden chill of your voice.

Dream raised a hand, leaving it hovering in the air as he hesitated. Closing his eyes, he brushed strands of hair out of your face, wiping tears as he did so. His hand lingered by your ear for longer than he meant to.

“I’m sorry too.” Dream murmured, sounding defeated and tired. He was already in his own personal hell and wasn’t sure why watching you cry because of him made his chest ache. 

The sizzling sound that indicated the lava flow ceasing meant that your visit was over. It was then that Dream said something that surprised you.

“Please come back.” His sudden change in attitude scared you, but you supposed that was common in people forced into solitary confinement. 

You began to stand, Dream grabbing your wrist as you did. “Dream I...I don’t know that I can.” You couldn’t afford to give yourself hope that he felt anything for you. You had to convince yourself that he was only a villain, nothing more. I was for your own sake.

“Please. Just once more. All I ask.” You began to think that he was acting like this just to get someone who would help him escape Pandora’s Vault. However, the desperation in his eyes planted seeds of doubt.

“Goodbye, Dream.” As you approached Sam, you internalized everything that had happened. Instead of closure, the past hour had only left you with more questions than answers. 

You knew it would be better for you to stay away, to turn your back and never go to him again. But it was so hard to stay away, wasn’t it?

#dream smp x reader #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dsmp fanfic #dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #c!dream x reader #dreamwastaken #dsmp #x reader fanfiction #c!dream

[iamthemain-character]

Emerald Eyes

c!dream x reader

gender neutral pronouns

TW: angst

mcyt masterlist

Green.

It used to be your favorite color, if only for the reason if reminded you of him.

Green was the color of the grass when you first met him, the mysterious man on a horse.

Green was the color of the bedding in the room where he let you stay, a place that would eventually be your home.

Green was the color of the cloak he wrapped around you as he brought you back home, having been caught in a bad storm.

Green was the color of his eyes when he showed you his face, trusting you with his real identity.

Green was the color of your clothes when he kissed you, a magical night leading up to the magical moment.

Green was the color you both picked out for your future home, a delightful cabin in the woods.

Green was the color of the tablecloth at dinner, the first of many dinners he would miss.

Green was the color of the trees when he started manipulating the citizens of L’manburg, telling you it was for the best.

Green was the color of your nails as you clutched his arm late one night, begging him to stay, to change.

Green was the color of his armor when he left, saying that he was finally going to end it.

Green was the color of disc you helped Tommy retrieve from him, joining the others in teaming up to save the boys.

Green was the color of his eyes when you saw him for the last time, his prison uniform dirty and a wild look in those same eyes.

Green was the color of Dream, the color of the man you had loved and lost.

And despite hating the color, in your cabin in the woods, there was a chest painted green.

After all, green was the color of all your memories.

#dsmp #dream smp #mcyt #dream #dream x reader #c!dream #c!dream x reader

[undonerhapsodize]

Mask Off

Act 2 - Pt. 1 out of 3

DSMP C!Dream x g/n!reader, ft. Quackity TW: Generally triggering content: suspense, dread, horror, threats of violence, arguing, fluffy for half but it goes away quickly, not a happy ending Word Count: 7,233 Summary: You and Dream were together. Your cabin held the both of you nicely, away from the chaos of the SMP. Yet, the very roof seems to cave in when a certain visitor suddenly comes knocking on your door. What could he want?

Side Note: So my imagination decided to run a bit wild and now there’re parts 2 & 3 as well as act 1 in the works. Yup. I’ve given myself more work. Yet again. But listen it’ll be a while until I finish this act, nevermind the first one x-X. Just a heads up. Anyway, enjoy!! I had fun writing this :)))

The swinging of the wooden cabin door whined at the newcomer, complaining loudly at the disturbance. It announced the presence of the individual daring to use it, echoing throughout the house, not letting up for even a moment as he stepped through. It shut just as boldly, even with his attempt of easing it closed with a soft click. 

Not usually the type of person to state his arrival, Dream carried on without a word. He stepped through the foyer with practiced ease, navigating the semi cluttered area as best he could with an armful of firewood and his ax in the hand he wasn’t using. Taking care not to let the bundle of wood topple onto the ground, he sets the weapon down to lean against the counter, leaving it to rest. He stepped away from it, again side stepping around the room, not wanting to bump into any of the goods that lay on the small kitchen table or stumble down the stairwell, its opening laid against the farthest wall from the front door. 

Making his way to the fireplace, Dream could feel the heat intensify, even through the mask he wore on his face. It grew with each step, hotter and hotter, only for its change to become stagnant as he crouched in front of it. He took a moment to feel its warmth, to take in the comfort it provided as opposed to the chill of the autumn breeze. Though Dream was not a man to hold such sentiments to a high value, he gladly accepted the feeling as he began restocking the fire wood, placing it on the melt rack beside the fireplace for later use. Whatever was left over he chose to re-inflame the fire with, seeing the once lively, now smothering embers, in need of the fuel. Conscientious of the heat, he plied on more wood, poking around at the base of the fire with one of the longer, thicker sticks. It quickly caught fire, and began to build the flame back up to its former glory. Bingo

Dream continued to work as footsteps began to sound from the basement, leisurely ascending the stairs that lead up to the ground floor. Of course he heard it, his ears were as keen as ever. He wasn’t warry. He knew who they belonged to.

Eventually, the footsteps reached the top of the stairs. They stilled for a second, feeling the familiar presence behind him. But with nothing being said, he grew confused. Dream was about to turn to face them. Only, they spoke first. 

“Why hello to you,” they said. Their footsteps started up again, yet this time, to the kitchen.

The corner of his lip curled up in amusement. “Hello~.” He continued to stoke the fire.

“Now, why aren’t you using the fire iron?” They asked with an accusatory tone. There was a clamor made towards the backend of the cabin, one that Dream recognized as a box coming in contact with something hard: probably the floor based on the vibrations he felt. A ‘ping’ sounded just afterward: of glass hitting glass.

Dream shrugged, to no one but himself. “Cuz,” he spoke simply. “It’s pussy shit.” Another ‘ping’. “The fuck do you mean it’s pussy shit?” They spoke with the same tone, yet there was a small chuckle tacked on at the end of their sentence. “That’s it’s whole job.”

Dream threw what remained of the stick, which had at this point shortened greatly, into the fire. He was satisfied with how the fire now sprang back to life. “‘just don’t need it.”

He stood up, knees popping quietly. Shifting, Dream turned to face the person he was talking to. There they stood, just in front of the kitchen sink, an assortment of glass bottles inside a wooden box on the floor to their side . They spoke again, “Still,” a little softer this time, “you should use it. Give it more purpose.”

Dream smiled, if only a little. “Really?” He began to make his way over to them, maneuvering around the overflowing table once more. He passed over into the kitchen space just as they gave a ‘yea’ in confirmation. 

Dream slowed as he got closer, almost about to close the distance. “Well,” starting in a light tone. Gently, he stepped into them, snaking his arms around their midsection and tightening, holding his own arm in order to secure them in place. He continued, “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

At the response, you breathe out a laugh through your nose, though don’t say anything else. The atmosphere grows quiet for a couple seconds, save for the clinking glass bottle as you continue to work. Dream modestly stands, hugging you from behind as he drinks in the warmth you provided, chest pressed surely against your back. A very grounding thing beyond all else. Definitely for him.

It doesn’t take long for Dream to pier over your shoulder to gaze at what you were working on. Though it's obvious from the movements themselves, he asks anyway. “Whatcha workin on?”

“Getting these potions into their proper bottles,” You say. “I saw we were running out a couple days ago and decided to make some more.”

Dream let out a ‘hmm’, content with the answer. He dropped his head onto your shoulder. Angling his face into the area of your neck and the back of your head, he breathed you in. Or, as much as he could with the mask on his face. Though it only covered the upper portion of his face (mouth still visible), it obstructed a lot of his movement. But, luckily, not so much this.

He enjoyed the faint scent your hair gave off from this morning’s shampoo. It set him at ease when not many other things could. The feeling in his heart grew, reaching from the pits of his stomach to the tips of his ears. He closed his eyes at the emotion blooming within. You, on the same page, sighed in content. The clinking of the glass bottles continued.

He couldn’t help but untangle one of his arms from his embrace. He took it, raising it up to move the fabric of your hoodie away from the nap of your neck, clearing the area for him to access. He didn’t get a chance to.

You jumped, something akin to a flinch. Stopping all motion, Dream froze. He already had an apology ready to go, but before he could, he heard your laughter. 

“Haha… sorry, that spooked me. Also kinda tickles.”

Dream blinked, processing. A grin made its way onto his face, stretching from something passive, into something much more… cunning. “It what?”

You stopped. Hearing the tone in his voice was not a good sign. It wasn’t the sound of someone asking just an innocent question. “Uh, yeah?” You braced the edge of the kitchen sink, a bottle still in hand.

“Yeah?” he repeated, almost mockingly. The same hand had risen again, elbow bent, ready to strike.

Dread filled you at the realization. The missing arm. “Dream no-”

You barely could get another word in before the man in question pulled your hoodie back, starting his vicious attack. He dove in head first, literally. 

Relentlessly, he kissed, nipped, and tickled the area with skin-on-skin contact. His lips, along with the stubble of his upper lip and jaw, not doing you any favors. You burst out laughing against your will. 

He grinned borderline maliciously, happy to see his hunch had been right. And relentlessly, he laughed, abet muffled by your skin. Your reaction was far beyond calm. To put it plainly, you thrashed, trying to muscle out of Dream’s grip, but to no avail. Even with a single arm, he held you in place, refusing to let you go from his front until he’s had his fun. Shouts of protest rang throughout the house, as well as giggles of joy. Ones that fueled Dream’s rampage as he continued his onslaught. 

Though it didn’t last forever. 

The sound of glass shattering made Dream stop every movement. The sound of the shocked noise that left your throat made Dream unlatch himself to look over your shoulder and at your face. Your eyebrows were set downturned, yet your eyes were wide, fixated on whatever was in front of you. Dream turned a cheek to look at the scene, only to make the same face himself. His jaw even dropped, fully aghast at the sight.

There, in the bottom of the sink, was the remains of what used to be an invisibility potion, glass shattered and sitting on the metal. Though that wasn’t the best part, oh no. It was the fact that the concoction had splattered up, and onto your hands. Only making selective parts invisible. Not the whole hand, just dots.

Your hands were that of a dalmatians' coat, yet instead black, the bottom of the sink filled the space.

Expression frozen, Dream slowly turned his head to face you, wanting to get a read for your reaction. You just starred, and blinked. It was dead silent for a few seconds before you finally looked at him. You only had one thing to say.

“Bruh.”

Dream cracked.

Taking a step back, and letting go of your waist, he uses his arm to clutch his own stomach, letting out a wheeze of laughter at the mere sight of your hands. It apparently was the most hilarious thing to him. He slouches at the feeling of his stomach tightening at the exhilaration, shoulders turning into themselves. Eyes squinted, mouth agape, teeth showing, he let out buckets full of boyish, hearty laughter. He was tireless in his own humor. Even when that giggles stopped, he still pushed it out, squeezing out air from his lungs that sounded awfully almost like a kettle.

Meanwhile, you stood at the sink, arms crossed at the sight of Dream losing his shit over the sight over a fucked-up invis pot. Yes you thought it was funny. But was it that funny? Like, ‘laughing my ass off’ funny? No. That was just too much. Was it what you said? Maybe. You couldn’t know.

Dream continues to laugh as you turn back around to the sink, flipping on the sink to run the excess potion down the sink and wash your hands. “Just let me know when you’re done,” you call over your shoulder.

Dream runs a hand through his hair. He struggles to speak through his convulsing diaphragm, but muscles through anyway. “I-it…”

You turn your head, shutting off the water, “What?”

He tries again, giggling throughout. “I-It… they-y look la-like…”

You raise a brow. Already expecting something outta left field. You take the towel from the oven to palm your hands dry. “...What?”

He points weakly to your hands, chest expanding and shrinking with air. There, he makes an impeccable observation. He grins.

“Like… sw-iss cheEESEEeee…”

Once again the man doubles over, comically stumbling over to the fridge, using a free hand to lean against it in support. There, he confines himself, designating it as the resting place for his hackling.

You, at this point, can’t help but laugh with him. Leaning against the counter top, you chuckle softly, admitting that yes, they do kinda look like swiss cheese. 

It takes a good couple seconds for Dream to calm after that, the last of his enjoyment dying out at the push of his body from the fridge, and an adjustment of his posture. You don’t even have to ask before he’s opening said fridge, and pulling out the milk. It just stands as a reminder that even as distracted as possible, he’s still thinking ahead. Even for simple things.

“I can get that.” You said instinctively.

Dream brushes it off with a sarcastic comment, as per usual. “Oh really? I didn’t know.”

You roll your eyes, but say nothing. He continues his path, plucking an empty glass from the cupboard, filling it halfway with the milk, side-stepping to return the milk to the fridge, and approaching you with it. The grin he wears is still cheeky. Not surprising.

He stands before you once more, presenting the glass to you. You take it easily, not hesitating to drink, taking small sips. He lets his hand fall to his side. You look at him, and into the porcelain white of his mask. For anyone else, it might’ve been intimidating to stand in front of him. One so tall, mysterious, dangerous, as you’ve heard. Yet, you were not afraid. Maybe you should be. But you weren’t.

You think to continue the conversation. “I can’t believe you would laugh at my suffering.” You take another sip to allow him a chance to speak.

“I won’t call that suffering, love.” He says easily, gesturing down with his head at the now fading remains of the invisibility potion. “You weren’t hurt or anything.”

Tipping your head up you’re beginning to finish the glass. Swallowing, you go on. “True,” you admit. “Though I could’ve been.” Dream’s grin drops a little in confusion. You elaborate. “It could’ve been something bad, like a harming. I also made some of those.”

“Why’d you make those?” He can’t help but ask. You shrug. “Had the ingredients. Thought, ‘why not?’ Just in case.” Dream’s enjoyment finally fades at the admission: at the realization that that spill-up could’ve been a lot worse. That depending on what kind of potion it was, the evening could’ve turned into a particularly awful one. Dream frowned.

You were about to ask about the change in mood, before he took a step forward. He raised both hands, tenderly placing them on your biceps. His thumbs started to rub into your hoodie, comforting in its motion. Even through the fabric, you knew the reason for his hands was rather to have, than to hold. He angled his face up, above and to your hair. A sign for you to tilt your head down, which you did. What you weren’t expecting was the feather-light kiss to the crown of your head. It was as soft as the moon-light that peaked through the closed curtains from the window. You could’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention. There he held you, and spoke words you would cherish for years to come.

“I’m sorry. ‘Wasn’t careful.”

You’re confused. “I was kidding.”

He reports back, albeit softly. “I know you were.”

You pause for a mere moment to think, then it comes to you. Melting at the earnesty, you smile, chest warm. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t mean to.”

He continued to speak, protesting your attempt of comfort. “That’s the problem.”

Still, you shook your head, encased as it was. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

Dream chose not to respond. You didn’t make him.

Instead, you lightly tapped on his chest with the glass, which had been empty of milk for some time now. Chuckling at the way you chose to get his attention, Dream took the glass from you and side-stepped to the sink, going to wash it. He flicked on the sink.

You protested, “Ey-”

Dream interrupted you.. “Go sit down. I’ll join you after I clean this up.” He was referring to the broken glass still sitting at the bottom of the kitchen sink. 

You protested one more, “I can get th-”

Dream countered, biting back with his back still turned. “No. I got it. Now go sit down.”

You tried again, “Dream, I can-”

He turned around. He decided to kick a leg out, and lean against the counter, glass still in hand. He tilted his head down. If you could see his face, you could guess the kind of face he’s making at you right now. 

“Y/N.” He says with the patience he doesn’t have. “I’ve. Got. This. Please. Go still down.” He pauses once more, maybe to let the silence speak for itself. “Think of it like a favor.” You huff after a few solid seconds of a disconnected staring contest. “Fine,” you give in. Turning on your heel you make your way to the plaid coach sat by the fireplace. Before you get too far, you decide to call one last thing over your shoulder, “You’re impossible, you know.”

Dream audibly laughs, deep and true. “It is said to be one of my best qualities.” He pauses before adding. “As is yours.”

You huff again, though it ends in a chuckle you can’t hold back. You sit yourself down on the coach as he finishes his task. “Oh shush.”

The crackling of the fire’s flame filled the quiet of the cabin, as well as the sounds of heavy footfalls, and of clinking glass. From what you could tell, Dream made quick work of the clean-up, swiftly wiping down the counter of any remaining potion residue. The sound of a muffled slam made it known that he had finished, the disposable bin shutting for the last time that night.

From your position on the couch, you sat in your thoughts. Quietly. You tilted your head back until the back of your neck reached the curve of the cushion. You sighed out, letting your eyes flutter shut.

When you first found Dream, caked in dirt and grime, coated in both dried and fresh blood, he was in your barn. Hearing the alarming sounds of an intruder at one o’clock in the morning, you set out to investigate, seeking out whatever animal you thought had weaseled their way into the rickety old thing. What you did NOT expect to find, however, was the form of a tired, worn man on the brink of exhaustion. It was quite a sight if you were to be honest. The picture of what is probably the closest person to the antagonist of the Greater SMP, struggling to get himself to stand against you, hissing out insults and threats of violence all the while. It would be imprinted in your head for as long as you lived. It would remain in the same way as your first seated dinner with the villain after patching him up as he hunched over his bowl of soup, as would the time he threatened to kill you when you snuck up behind him by accident.

From the start of your relationship, you didn’t expect it to go far, either. Not at all. You knew what he was. He knew what you were. The both of you didn’t expect to change in the way that you had, to evolve in ways that went beyond your outstretched hand of empathy, or the soothing touch of the healing man you didn’t think he could possess. Yet, fate surprised you. He surprised you. It's predictable that way, unyielding in its course of amazement and the unanticipated. Even now, it baffled you. How could such a man, a man just as Dream, decide to share his company with you in the ways that he has. Ways even he probably thought himself incapable. 

You weren’t one to tempt fate. Not at this part, at least. Here, in your cabin, you were content to sit, and wait for him. You had the patience. You had the time.

Though not much.

A scuffled sound, of rubber against tile, alerted you to something you had not yet processed. You opened your eyes, craning your head up to look at the person in question. “Do you still have your boots on?”

Dream made a noise close to what a horse would make, except distantly human. “Yeah.” He patted his hands dry with the dish towel, just having finished washing them thoroughly.

Your face scrunches up in disgust. “Take them off.”

At that, the masked man openly chuckles, placing the dish rag back from whence it came, beginning to take steps closer and closer to where you sat relaxed on the couch. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Then you’re weird.” 

His mouth opens, agape with fake offense. “I am not weird.” He toes off his shoes at the front door, not bothering to set them up properly before padding closer with deathly quiet footsteps.

You almost make a face at the act, though you’re quickly distracted by the looming figure of Dream over the coach. A shadow could’ve casted over you. Your seated position only increased the height difference between the both of you. Mans is tall.

Yet, you are not afraid. “You kinda are.” You speak casually.

Dream scoffs, a smile visibly growing below the face, teeth showing. He’s a little more insistent this time as he takes a knee on the couch. He chooses not to lower himself. “I am not.”

You shrug. “You definitely are.”

Dream tilts his head. The whites of his canines peek out from his lips. He doesn’t move. Not a single inch. It makes you freeze as well. You go to say something else to get him to do something, but before you can, he pounces.

Leaning down and taking both his hands around your waist, he turns you sideways, nearly picking you up in the process. With an exaggerated grunt, Dream maneuvers you so your body faces longways down the couch. Rightfully caught off guard, you’re about to ask what the hell he’s doing. But before you can, Dream turns himself longways as well, and topples down, collapsing onto you with his weight. It effectively knocks the wind out of you, huffing out an “oof” at the impact. Dream laughs quietly all the while: a mix between a rumble and a chuckle. 

There he lays on you, turning his head to the side, ear pressed to your collarbone and arms sandwiched between you and the couch. He gets comfortable, shifting against you to find the best position to lay. He stills after a minute. Then, as the grand finally, Dream speaks, smoothly yet clear. “Well… I guess I am.”

The feigning of innocence gets a laugh out of you. You breathe out, shifting on your own to try to get comfortable. Well, as best as you can with a six foot, well built man on top of you. Like your body moved on its own, your arms came up to wrap securely around the back of Dream, hands running along the expanse of his shoulders as you do. He visibly shivers at the contact. You stop, cautious in your movements. 

Dream notices, and acts. He struggles to pull an arm from wherever it has wedged itself. He takes it, and twists his shoulder, maneuvering his hand to touch your own, which was held in the air, hovering over his back. Straining a little, he pushes it down, making contact with his back once more. He returns his arm, easily tucking it back into the space it had come from.

If he was phased by the touch, he didn’t show it, nor speak it. Smiling, your pride in him swells, and your apprehension leaves, just as quick as it came. Continuing, you tighten your arms, which find their resting place with ease. 

There they stay. And there, the both of you sink into one another, melting into the cushion of your furniture and the comfort each other gave. Its warmth was unrivaled by anything, going beyond normal heat and into the very personification of a glow. And my, what a cozy glow it was. Oh how lovely.

The rarity of the moment did not escape you. How foolish could you be, to forget who exactly, you held so closely? How dismissive could you act, to not?

Dream and you. Together. A recipe for disaster. That was certain.

Take a seesaw. On one end, the man sat. The other, you. The balance was level, despite it all. Your feet floated, a foot or so above the ground. His did as well. If you listened close enough, you could hear laughter, light and unburdened. You can hear a heartbeat, strong and resilient. You can hear silence, unseen and unbothered. You can hear it all.

That is, if you can hear it past the rumbling of the thunder, just a matter of miles away.

A storm was brewing. How would the seesaw take it? Could it withstand the pressure?

KNOCK KNOCK

Both you and Dream tensed immediately. The silence of the cabin suddenly became too much for the both of you. Dream whipped his head up to face you, a look of confusion and panic plastered all over it. You didn’t have to see it to know it was there. You gave the same look back, just as shocked as he was. 

At that unspoken agreement, a realization washed over the both of you.

You didn’t plan on having any guests over. You didn’t know anyone in the area who you were close enough to that could possibly come over at any random time. Especially at this time, when the night had just fallen upon the land, and the creatures of the world began to emerge from their slumber.

In that moment, the serenity had abruptly, and brutally been replaced with danger.

Wordlessly, Dream sat up, and rose from the couch. His eyes were trained on the door, never once leaving, even as you got up as well. “Invis.” You say quietly, looking at him with nervous eyes. “By the counter.” He nods once. Only once.

You make your way to the door, the sounds of your footfalls as bold as they could’ve been in the rigid atmosphere. Dream on the other hand, you can barely sense move into the kitchen behind you. He’s like a ghost in these kind of scenarios. Unseen and untouchable. 

Placing your hand on the door, you lean in, peering into the peep hole to get a glimpse of your unexpected visitor. Though no matter how brave you think you are, nothing prepares you for what you see on your front step, only accompanied by the darkness of the sky.

You’re horrified.

Slowly you turn around. Dream had picked up his ax, and was moving it, taking it from where it was to where he now places it: on top of the cabinet and out of sight. His height works for him in that way, where he can easily reach up and grab his prized tool whenever he would need, and nobody would even know it was there. An invisibility potion in hand, it was already uncorked and ready to drink. He stills afterwards, straightening. He stares, unblinking. You can guess the expression: eyes wide with anxiety and adrenaline. His eyes only seem to grow wider at the look on your face, pupils shrinking to an almost inhuman size.

You have to command yourself to speak, the lone word not wanting to leave your tongue. For both of your sakes. 

“Quackity.”

You whisper it into the density of the air, breathless with unease. You can only imagine the thoughts that go through Dream’s mind, as he continues to stand there, unmoving. You can see the hand that holds the potion tremble, even as the grip tightens. 

Oh how you want to turn your back on the door and comfort him, to reassure him with every promise that you can. I’m sorry honey.

KNOCK KNOCK

You jump. Dream doesn’t. Instead, he lets his eyes ease shut. He seems to breathe deep, nodding to no one but himself, before bringing the bottle to his lips, tilting his head back, and drinking the entire potion in one go. If you had the time to think about it, you would be jealous of how quickly he can find resolve. Even in the face of such an enemy.

You watch him swallow the substance and how it goes into effect instantaneously. His body begins to fade, spotty at first, then partially, then completely, as the mask man disappears from your view. Nothing remained, not a shred of clothing, not even a shadow.

Your own resolve is shaky as you place your hand on the door handle. Before you lose your nerve, and before this visitor can lose his patience, you turn it, and brace yourself. With a tug, the door opens, about halfway, where it reveals none other than the President of Las Nevadas, Quackity. The vile torturer in the flesh.

He snaps his head to you. His body isn’t facing the door, more so to the side as he looked to be gazing out into the forest. He looks worn, though not overly so. The white of his shirt was muddled, its purity now appearing dirty. It looks as if he hadn’t properly washed it in forever. He had what looked like an ax secured to his belt. You try not to look at it too long. The scar along his face was as prevalent as ever, along with the blind eye. It matched the propaganda posters you’ve seen relatively well. Though its roughness was missed in translation.

He blinks. Then smiles. 

“Oh hello!” Quackity greets, golden tooth peeking through his lips. One hand comes up to straighten a suspender that had been starting to slip from his shoulder. He turns to face you fully at the same time.

“Ah, Hello?” You ask with a question. You have never met this man before. Only heard stories. You could only wonder, what was he doing here? What did he want?

“Ha ha, I guess this is a little weird huh?” The President chuckles to himself. “You probably weren’t expecting someone on your front door at this time of night.”

You remain still, prompting him to continue. He straightens up, taking his collar in two hands, and pops it. Dramatically.

 “Well… I’m Quackity, President of Las Nevadas, Big Q, blah blah blahahaha…” He trails off in a laugh, one that makes you shuffle your feet. It wasn’t a nice one to hear.

He does the same, but takes a wider stance. “Aha… whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’ve heard of me, hmm?” He raises his unmarred eyebrow.

Seeing him stand there without continuing prompts you to speak. “Umm… yea… I think so.” You talk softly on purpose, influenced by your confusion and nervousness.

He grins again, dimples forming on his cheeks. He shuffles once more. It's almost fidgety in how he moves. Instantaneous, and unexpected.

“That's good, that's good,” He nods, muttering before clearing his voice. “I was just wandering around and saw your little cabin, and figured, why not ask a few questions.” He looks to you, making eye contact with a small bow of the head, smiling cheekily all the while. “If that’s alright with you, Mx?...”

“Y/N.” You finish lightly.  “Just Y/N is fine.”

“Ah, Y/N. That’s a nice name!” He declares, almost excited. You force a polite smile on your face in flattery.

He gestures with a hand suddenly, pointing to the open part of the door. “May I come in?”

A flash of alarm flows through you, running all the way from the tips of your ears to the soles of your feet. Dream is in here. As cautious as you are in your presentation, you can’t help but stammer out a decline. “Ahaha, I’m sorry sir, but it is the middle of the night, and…I-I don’t think I would be comfortable with that…”

His smile falls a bit at the rejection. “Are you sure about that Mx Y/N?” The look he gives is less than pleasant, a far cry from the almost blissful look he wore only seconds ago. 

As unnerving as it is, you stand your ground, now putting on the best performance of ‘innocent bystander’ as you can realistically manage. You hope your face beams with courtesy, as does your voice as you reply sweetly. “I am, Mr. President.”

You can tell he’s annoyed by the decline as he attempts to move on. He sighs. “Well, I guess I won’t be long.” He says to himself, as his eyes glance down at your porch deck for a moment before they return to your face. 

He opens his mouth to begin. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Greater Kingdom, haven’t you?”

You nod. “Yeah I have.”

He goes on, “Are you aware of the most recent events?”

You pause for a second, internally debating on what to say. Knowing Quackity is watching your every move, you answer casually. “Uhh, no? I don’t think so. What recent events?” You quirk a brow, honestly wondering what he's referring to.

Quackity breathes in deeply, as if the floodgates are about to open. “Well…” He starts, careful this time. Different than before. “There’s been an incident, and… there’s a prisoner on the loose.”

You don’t move. Quackity stares you, dead in the eyes, searching, inspecting. You don’t give him a thing. He shuffles again.

“What I’m interested in, quite frankly, is if you’ve seen anyone… suspicious over the past few weeks.”

You turn your head, bringing a hand up to rub your chin, the crease of your brow deeps as you pretend to think on the matter. You wait a second or two before letting up, shaking your head. “Uh, no. I have not. Well, I don’t think I have. Then again, I don’t really see anyone out here, especially so late in the year. That is, except for you of course…”

“Then let me ask you something else!” Quackity cuts you off, raising a finger to you in the universal ‘wait’ signal. He counters with a smoothness that comes off more as desperation. You can see it in his eyes.

They narrow a fraction as he cocks his head to the side. The dim lighting of the torch that rested on the wall only made the man more menacing. The shadow that casted over his eyes made a portion of his scar disappear, and the milky gray of his blind eye glow. You have to command yourself to match the stare of the dead tissue.

“Have you seen anyone around with a white mask? What with a smile drawn on?”

You breathe. In. And out.

“N-No?” Calm down. Try again. “What? A smile? On a mask?”

Quackity blurts out a cackle, clutching his chest. It reverberates throughout the house . “I know right?! HAHAHA… fucking stupid…”

You laugh with him, as much as you can for your sincerity to appear true. You grab the door frame with a hand to stabilize yourself.

He coughs inwardly, calming himself from the outburst. “Hehehe.. he.. it's just that, I mean…” He stands solid again. Except, it's different this time. He turns sideways, his shoulders pull back, looking the most square they've been during this whole interaction.

He clicks his tongue. “Anyone who knew anything would have to speak up.” His hand drifts down to the weapon by his side. Your heartbeat jumps to your throat. It decides to sit there, waiting, watching, as you do at the threshold of your lonely cabin.

A slimy grin takes over his face, though his brows tilt downward, almost saddened. Remorseful even at his own thoughts. “Conspiring with a convict? Jeez…” His grip tightens on the head of his ax. Your confidence betrays you. Your face begins to fall. Pupils the size of pebbles, they await. In fear.

“What a terrible way to go.”

You’re deafened to everything. Your vision narrows to only the man in front of you. The distinct sound of the blade being unsheathed is the only thing you can hear as you watch the distinct blue of the diamond ax reveal itself. It’s slow, calculated almost. Quackity is deliberate with the movement as he stares you down, the sneer making his show all the more intimidating.

Stomp

Stomp

Stomp

It comes fast and sudden: the sound of heavy footfalls approaching from within the house. The tile of the kitchen floor did nothing to muffle the sound. It was as clear as day. Dream approached swiftly from behind, certainly set off by the sound of an unsheathing blade. Each step hit hard, punishing the floor with the force of Dream’s instinct to fight.

If you had more time, you would think more of his spring to action: the reason as to why he chose to give himself away. But you would think about his protective deed later. Not here, not now. There was a sound in the house.

You heard it.

Quackity heard it.

With a similar thought, his eye twitched. Quickly, he shoved his way into the house. Past you, past the door. You didn’t have time to prepare. He effectively pushed you back, making you stumble further into the house and away from the door. 

Dream’s muddy shoes had perfect timing. Because of their haphazard placement, they were able to find the opportune moment to make the situation worse. Your feet failed you as they got caught on the leather, your balance lost to the wind that whipped just outside the house, which could clearly be heard from the now wide open cabin door. You started to fall.

Except you didn’t.

Except your back hit something sturdy. Something soft even, as it absorbed your impact. While it didn’t catch you, it broke your fall, letting you hit two things easier instead of one thing hard. You would have to thank him later for his affinity for placing himself in the exact location needed.

You hit the floor with an ‘oof’, your bum making an impact before your hands came to the ground to stabilize yourself. 

You didn’t dare look up to Dream. You wouldn’t give his presence away. Instead you locked your eyes on Quackity, who was currently scanning the house. His one eye darted around in every direction possible, his blind eye following with the muscle memory. He made several rotations, twisting and turning every which way, frantically searching for the source of the noise. He looked and looked, stepping around the table, moving back and forth countless times, never once ceasing his search. He was too occupied to bring attention to the fact he had pushed you down.

Before you make to get up, there is a pressure on your back. It’s feather light, you can barely tell it's there. It was spotty, not solid, for there were multiple points of contact. They were warm, unlike any inanimate object you knew. It's a reminder. It's a warning. It urges you to still, to sit tight where you were.

You sensed him behind you, as clear as day. He was crouching from what you could tell, his height would not allow his hand to rest where it was if he wasn’t lowered in some way. You wondered absentmindedly just how close he was. Was he more beside you, ready to spring into action at any given moment? Or was he more behind you, wanting to keep clear of the intruder more than anything? You didn’t know. You wouldn’t dare check. Not with Quackity acting so brazen.

He snapped his head around to you, a gnarly sneer of his lip commanding the tenseness of the moment. “I HEARD SOMETHING.” He barks. ”I FUCKING HEARD SOMETHING.” The grip on his ax is tight as it stressed the wood of the handle. 

You only stare back, a mix of shock and offense. Nothing is said as the two of you are locked into a staring contest. You, on the floor, your blood rushing through your veins at an abnormal speed, like every platelet in your body was racing for the finish line that seemed oh so near. Quackity, standing on edge, outraged to find himself empty handed, just a matter of feet away. Clearly Dream isn’t visible to him. The potion is doing its job, and well. 

The breeze outside picks up. The forest nearest to your cabin groaned at its strength, its own bark resisting with an agitated creaking. The leaves of the trees were restless, helpless to the forces of nature. Some were strong enough to stick to their branches. Others were not. They were tugged from their stems, picked up to only be dragged against the house, scraping against the shingles of the side, shuffling and grinding along the floorboards of the porch just outside. Some even ventured inside, the ajar door doing nothing to stop the visitors.

The civility of the situation was hanging in the balance. 

You chose to take action.

Slowly and surely you begin to move, not wanting to startle the man, who seemed too on hyped up on his own concoction of adrenalin for your taste. He watched you carefully, though not with fear. With anticipation. 

Leaning forward, you put more weight on your legs. Using some momentum, you get onto the balls of your feet, pushing upright. The pressure on your back leaves. You dust your pants off, hoping the action conveys some sense of ease to Quackity. You keep your gaze on him, not wanting to lose sight of the man for even a second. You dare to speak, words slipping from your tongue before you can fully understand their irony. They’re devoid of any special emotion. Your speech remains faithful to you.

“Must’ve been the wind.”

Quackity starts, blinking a few times. He’s still suspicious as he looks around the house, this time scanning attentively. He’s slow, making sure to not miss a thing that could potentially give him a reason to act. He turns as he does, doing a full circle before making eye contact with you one more time.

He gives you a once over. Up and down his eyes rake up your form. The touch returns to you, this time on your shoulder. You expect it this time.

Quackity’s gaze would’ve made you uncomfortable if he was looking at you with more lust. But no, this was different. He was memorizing, not checking out. You could see the gears turn in his head as he stuffed new information into the depths of his brain, mentally accounting for something that remained unseen. 

He scoffed suddenly. Shaking his head, before moving to the door. A little caught off-guard, you follow right after him, leaving the touch once more. He shoulder checks the edge of it, nudging it open to make room for himself. He walks on, at a rushed pace, passing through the threshold of the door as the DONK of his boots hit the wood of the front porch, never once looking back. You only watch from the doorway as he steps down the stairs of your cabin, hand once again finding purchase on the knob.

You ponder calling out to him. To ask him for the reason of his assault, as well as the quick departure. But he stops first, right in his tracks. Right in the grass of your front yard, about ten feet or so away from the house. The words die in your throat before they can even begin to be uttered.

Quackity cranes his neck from where he stands, looking over his shoulder with his good eye. He speaks disturbingly composed. A far cry from the erratic man that forced his way into your home. 

Though it's not the tone he uses that makes your breath caught in your throat. Oh no. It’s his words. So brutal and so jarring, that you don’t know how to comprehend them. Like a viper, they attack with the element of surprise.

“I know he’s been here.”

You don’t speak. You can’t. Not even if you tried. The poison of the viper is too much.

“Don’t make an enemy out of me Mx Y/N.”

Author's Note from the Future: I’m sorry to say but this fic is on Hiatus until further notice. I may come back to it, but I’m not very sure as of now. Apologizes, and happy reading :)))

#rhaz’s works #dsmp x reader #dsmp dream #dsmp fic #dsmp imagine #c!dream x reader #c!dream #c!dream imagine #c!dream fic #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken fic #dream x reader #c!dream angst #c!dream fluff #c!dream x y/n #c!dream x you

[theodorelore]

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐦𝐩 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

❊ c!dream

❊ c!sapnap

❊ c!george

❊ c!tommyinnit

#male reader #platonic x reader #c!dream x reader #c!sapnap x reader #c!georgenotfound x reader #c!tommyinnit x reader

[https-yeonjun]

[1:30am] (l.mk)

wc. 397

genre. angsty fluff

tags. mark x fem!reader, established relationship, long distance relationship, pet names (baby, babe, my girl)

a/n. repost; happy mark day!!!

more of my work

you found yourself sitting at the edge of the bed, the soft glow of your closet light gently illuminating the otherwise dark room. it had been two long weeks since you and mark had spoken, and the pain from the argument that triggered this silent period was still fresh. taking a deep breath, you mustered the courage to click on his name in your contact list, your fingers trembling with a mix of uncertainty and longing.

your heart raced as the phone rang on the other end. finally, mark’s groggy voice resonated through the line. “hello?” he answered.

a tense silence hung in the air as you tried to find the right words to say.

“s-sorry,” your voice shook, “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have called you.”

“y/n? babe, what’s wrong?” you could sense him straightening up, concern evident in his tone.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“i don’t care that you woke me up. where are you? are you okay?”

the warmth in his voice pulled at your heartstrings. you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but your emotions were overwhelming. “i’m home. i’m fine,” you choked back sobs, trying to speak through your tears. “just wanted to hear your voice.”

“a mixture of relief and worry flooded mark’s voice, “please, please don’t apologize.”

“i just feel bad about how everything went down. i didn’t mean anything i said.”

“it’s not your fault at all.” mark reassured you.”i haven’t been making you a priority. i could feel it too, that we were drifting away, but i don’t know. i guess i was stressed about work and everything.” he confesses. “i should have been honest with you and spoken with you. i never want to make your feel like you’re doing this by yourself.”

his vulnerability tugged at your heart. this was what you wanted from the start: for him to be honest with you. for a moment, there is another long silence on your line. “baby, are you there?” he asks softly.

“yeah,” your voice cracked. “yeah, i’m here.”

“please don’t cry, baby.” i never want to make my girl cry.”

“i know. i’m trying to not cry.” you wipe your tears with the back of your hands. “i just missed you so much.”

“i miss you too. i promise baby, i’m going to try and be there for you.”

fill out this form to join my taglist!

#fay's works #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct fluff #nct angst #nct x reader #nct dream fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct dream x reader #nct 127 c reader #nct dream #nct 127

[happy74827]

A New Moon

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite his gut telling him he shouldn’t, Dexter can’t help but fall deeper into the trap of his own emotions. And the more time he spends with you, the more he starts to realize what exactly those emotions are. {GIF Creds: beautifulguycollector}

WC: 2889

Category: Slight Lime/Spice, Friends to Lovers + Forbidden Love (if you squint) Tropes

Gotta keep this fandom alive somehow 🥲 (also… why are titles so hard to write? That and the synopsis are harder to write than the actual fic)

『••✎••』

You were too good for him. Plain and simple. You were a smart, beautiful, hard-working woman who had goals and dreams. He was a cold-blooded killer. Not to say that he hadn't been there for you, though. The two of you had been friends since… well, a while. A long while.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he started to notice the changes in your relationship. It was a slow, subtle buildup, and the first time you called him your friend, Dexter thought nothing of it. The second time, it made him pause, but not enough for him to consider what the implications of you saying that to him could mean.

But when you said it again and again and again, he realized the meaning behind your words, the affection they held. Dexter couldn't say that he was particularly close to many people. There were a select few he'd consider his friends, but he wasn’t emotionally invested in any of them. And he didn't think he was invested in you, either.

But maybe he was.

Debs was different, and it made him question how much he was supposed to care about someone. But that was his sister, the one person in the world who loved him unconditionally. That reason alone made his relationship with Deb unique. He was sure of that.

The same went with Brian—his brother, as it turned out. And Harrison, his son. Dexter felt things for those people, but they were different. Those were family, the people he was genetically tied to. Of course, he would care about them.

But you weren't family, and yet he still cared about you. It was a different kind of caring. And it was confusing. Harry was right, after all. He didn't feel. Dexter had convinced himself for years that he was a high-functioning sociopath, but lately…

Lately, he was beginning to question if that was true. Simple glances from you could bring an unwelcome smile to his lips. And when he heard the sound of your voice, he could feel his chest warm. It was a nice feeling, something he'd only experienced briefly with Rita. But then, that relationship was different too.

It was hard to put his finger on it, but being with you was just… easy. And it didn't feel like work. There was no pretending. Dexter didn't have to act when he was around you. He didn't need to try to be someone he wasn't. It was the real him.

It was terrifying.

Because now, as he sat on your couch, watching as you moved gracefully around your small apartment, the feeling was back, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He should have been home with Harrison, but the little boy was staying over at Debra’s tonight, so he didn't have any responsibilities. The passenger within him didn’t see it as a problem either, considering he’d just recently “disposed" his latest target.

It was nice, Dexter decided, to relax every once in a while. Work and family didn't give him a lot of opportunities to do so, and now that the two were temporarily taken care of, he felt he deserved to be lazy for a bit.

You didn’t have a TV in your living room, so the two of you settled for movies. Dexter didn’t really have a preference for them. He could watch a comedy, action, drama, or horror and not feel strongly for or against any of them.

Apparently, you didn't mind what he watched either because he could see the spark of excitement in your eyes when you pulled out the case for one of the worst comedy films Dexter had ever seen.

He'd seen it before. Not with you, one of the movies Vince shoved down his throat when he planned a night out with him, Angel, and Quinn.

It wasn't his favorite, not by a long shot, but the grin on your face and the way you eagerly skipped to the DVD player, set the disk inside, and closed the hatch made him bite his tongue.

Dexter had learned a long time ago that you were a very expressive person. And even though most of the time your feelings weren't displayed on your face, your eyes told another story. Such opposites to his own, Dexter often found himself fascinated by the light they held.

You had a passion for life that was rare, and it drew him in. It was a quality he lacked, and he could see it in everything you did. Whether it was talking about the newest book you read or making coffee, you put all of yourself into your actions.

It was something that Dexter had never understood. How could you have such a strong sense of self? Didn't it get tiring, having to live up to a standard of being so… so good?

But then again, you'd always been better than him. He might’ve been smarter in some regards, but what was smart if it didn't come from a place of morality? You were better, purer than him. He knew it, and everyone else did, too, even if they weren’t aware of how pure he wasn’t

That's why this was so wrong. This thing that had been going on for the past couple of months between the two of you. The subtle touches, the longing stares, the late-night calls. It was all wrong.

You were similar to Rita in some ways. You were kind and compassionate, always looking for the good in others. You had a knack for taking care of people, whether they needed it or not.

Dexter could tell that was your nature, and it was one of the things that initially attracted him to you. All the things he lacked, you had. But that didn't mean that you could replace Rita. He didn’t want you to.

And that was the difference. While he may have found qualities in you that resembled the ones he'd found in Rita, you were not her. Rita was gone, and it was his fault. She didn’t deserve to die, and yet she did. She deserved to grow old, to see Harrison grow up.

She deserved better.

The same went for you. You didn’t deserve a monster like him. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that he should stay away. It was for the best of both of you.

And yet he was here. On your couch, watching a shitty movie and drinking the beer you'd offered him. Because, despite his efforts, he couldn't keep his distance from you.

He should've known. When it came to you, Dexter didn't have a choice.

His gaze drifted over to your form as you sat down beside him. You were smiling, your eyes bright and focused on the television. A lock of hair fell across your face, and you pushed it back, the sleeve of your hoodie falling down slightly.

Dexter had never been so tempted to reach out and touch someone in his life.

It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him the last few weeks, and now, sitting with you, watching a bad movie, it was at an all-time high. He'd never craved intimacy. But there was something about you, a pull that he couldn't deny.

It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Reminded him of that need with Lila. God, Lila. What a mess that had turned out to be. Another thing to add to his growing list of mistakes.

And yet, the longer he stared, the more he found himself leaning forward. He didn’t register what he was doing until his lips were a hair width away from yours.

You froze but didn't move away. The only indication that you were startled was the widening of your eyes. They bore into his, unflinching. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He was scared. Scared? Yes. That was what he was feeling. Why? He didn't know. Fear was new. It was a feeling reserved for Deb and sometimes his son, but even then, it was different.

But as Dexter gazed at you, so close and so beautiful, the fear melted away. It was replaced by a warmth that he was quickly becoming familiar with. It made his body thrum and his blood rush. It made him feel alive.

You were the first one to make a move. Well, not really a move, just the smallest shift forward, and then you were breathing the same air as him. You weren't kissing. You were just… waiting. Waiting for him to make the final move.

It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you, the power dynamic. He was the dominant one, and you were the submissive. You had never fought against it. You were a people pleaser, and he knew that.

It was one of the reasons he knew this was wrong. Because he couldn't stop, and you would never ask him to. Even now, as he hesitated, you waited patiently. You trusted him.

Why did you have to trust him? Why couldn't you be more selfish, more like him?

But deep down, Dexter knew that it wasn't your nature. You couldn't change, not any more than he could.

So, after another agonizing second, he closed the distance between you.

It was gentle, the way his lips pressed against yours. A stark contrast to the usual forcefulness he applied when taking his victims. No, with you, he was careful. Almost timid.

Your lips were soft and smooth, and the kiss was sweet. Nothing more than a simple caress. Dexter didn’t expect the tingling sensation it would cause, but the slight brush of your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

The kiss was short and chaste, but it was enough to leave him feeling dizzy. The heat spread through him, from the tips of his toes all the way to his cheeks.

Dexter pulled back, and you stared at him. His breath hitched in his throat at the look in your eyes. There was something there, something that mirrored his own emotions.

Was it possible? Was he really capable of such intense emotion?

Maybe he was.

You didn’t move. It was like time had stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was his own uneven breathing. That, and the movie playing in the background, which was forgotten as soon as your lips touched.

The urge to reach out and grab you was there. He could feel the need deep in his bones, in his soul. But instead, Dexter sat, staring. Staring into the eyes of the woman who had somehow managed to break down all the walls he'd spent his life building.

You didn't speak. There was nothing to say. No words could describe the feelings that had surfaced between the two of you. So, instead, you smiled. A simple, beautiful smile that had him feeling weak.

He could have stayed there forever, just looking at you, taking in the beauty that was you. It was a new experience for him, and it was nice.

“Debra is going to be pissed," you finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be bullied into telling her every detail."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then, his lips curled up in amusement. It was true. Eventually, she’ll figure it out. Maybe she already knew but was waiting for confirmation. Debra was good at figuring out things, even if it wasn’t the most obvious answer.

His sister was good at a lot of things, like being a detective. And, apparently, being an interfering matchmaking nuisance.

At least she wouldn’t call you the things she called Lila.

The thought made him chuckle, and you looked at him in confusion, but it would have to stay a mystery to you. For what was life without a few private jokes between siblings, right?

You didn’t press for answers, though. You did what you’ve always done and waited for him—waited for him as if it was his turn in Chess.

And he did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed you again. And again. And again. And again. Until he had you pinned beneath him, your arms around his neck, and your breath coming out in heavy gasps.

The kisses were still innocent, just as you were. But he could feel the passion behind them, the hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that. It had been a long, long time.

But the longer he kissed you, the more the heat grew, and soon, he was lost in the sensation. Your hands found their way into his hair, and you tugged at the strands. His heart was racing, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears.

It was exhilarating.

Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and the innocence was gone. Replaced by a desire that left him trembling. The feeling of your tongue against his, the taste of you on his lips, the smell of your shampoo mixed with your unique scent—it was all intoxicating.

The movie continued to play in the background, forgotten as you pulled him closer. The warmth in his chest intensified, and Dexter didn't fight it. Instead, he embraced it. He gave in to his emotions and let himself feel.

He didn’t go too far; he knew you weren't ready for that yet. The craving was there, and it was strong, but the moment wasn’t right. Instead, he satisfied himself by touching your skin, mapping out every inch of it, memorizing the way it felt under his fingertips.

And, when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, he held onto you, refusing to let go. His eyes searched yours, searching for something. Anything. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

He mostly saw fear, anger, and some regret when he had them pinned down beneath him. Of course, that was usually the case with his victims. Fear, anger, and regret were normal emotions—a reaction to being trapped by their own demise.

Having someone look up at him with emotions on the other side of the spectrum was different. Not a bad different, just... different.

Rita had been the first to look at him like that. Lumen did, too, once upon a time. And Lila, well, her emotions were never consistent.

But you? You looked up at him with an expression that was all too familiar and yet not quite the same. Your eyes were full of affection and desire, yes. But they were also filled with something else. Something he couldn't place.

Something he couldn’t understand.

"Dex,” your voice was so soft, a whisper. He almost didn’t hear it, and yet, he felt it. He felt the way his name rolled off your tongue, and it was like music to his ears.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. He didn’t know why he did that; it wasn't like the two of you were speaking in a library or something. Maybe it was the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the colors reflected off the white walls, casting an ethereal glow.

"I didn’t expect you to be… like this," you murmured. You ran a finger over his cheek, down to his jawline. He swallowed thickly. He could feel his pulse quicken.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Not bad," you replied. Your lips curved up, and his eyes were drawn to them. They were red and swollen from kissing, and it was such a contrast to the pale skin of your face.

"You think I'm not bad?" he said, raising his brows. "I'm flattered."

You shook your head. "You know what I mean," you said. "I just meant that you're different than how you come off. I didn’t think you'd be so... bold.”

He snorted. Bold. If you only knew.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," he said, smirking. You rolled your eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, only for him to catch it and press a kiss to the back of your hand. It was something he picked up from a movie once, and it seemed to be a pretty romantic gesture. And by the look on your face, it seemed to be appreciated.

You didn't say anything else. You didn't have to. There was nothing else to say. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company, content to just be together. The movie might've been a failure, but the night wasn’t.

And when Dexter finally left, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Not the type of relief he felt after a successful kill, but the type of relief one feels after a burden is lifted off their shoulders. The type of relief one gets when they are finally honest with themselves.

Rita was gone. Lumen was gone. And although his guilt and shame were still there, his self-loathing and fear were slowly starting to fade away. It wasn't gone, it was never going to be, but it was a start.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

A new moon.

Yes, tonight was the night that changed everything. Tonight, Dexter Morgan learned that maybe he was more than the monster he thought he was.

#dexter morgan #dexter morgan x reader #dexter morgan/reader #dexter morgan x female!reader #dexter fanfiction #dexter fandom #dexter morgan x you #dexter x reader #dexter tv #dexter tv series #dexter #x reader #fanfic #reader #fanfiction #debra morgan #michael c hall #michael c hall x reader #dexter imagine #dexter morgan imagine #angel batista #fluff #first kiss #tension #dexter fanfic #dexter morgan fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher fic #slashers #darkly dreaming dexter

[hatchetislostpog]

Quackity: I have fallen madly in love with you.

Y/n: Everyone does, darling. I'm a very loveable person.

Quackity: No, I'm seriously in love with you; this isn't me pretending. I love you.

Y/n: Oh...

#quackity x reader #dsmp x reader #quackity imagines #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dsmp x y/n #quackity x you #quackity x y/n #c!quackity x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp #dreamsmp #quackity #incorrect quotes

[theredflagsjustlooklikeflags]

Support (Yandere! C! Dream X Reader)

Dream was always there for (Reader). Whether they wanted him to be there or not.

He was their constant source of support. The only person that every cared for them.

Dream has observed them through everything.

He was there to comfort (Reader) in Pogtopia when Wilbur desented into madness.

The masked man protected them against Techno’s withers.

He even defended them when Tommy accused (Reader) of helping grief George’s house.

It started out as a manipulation tactic but Dream couldn’t deny the strange feelings he felt for (Reader).

It was different. Almost sickining. The feeling practically made his skin crawl. It made him crave to have (Reader) to himself.

And that’s exactly what he’ll do. Dream was always there for (Reader). Whether they wanted him to be there or not.

He was their constant source of support. The only person that every cared for them.

Dream has observed them through everything. He was there to comfort (Reader) in Pogtopia when Wilbur desented into madness. The masked man protected them against Techno’s withers. He even defended them when Tommy accused (Reader) of helping grief George’s house.

It started out as a manipulation tactic but Dream couldn’t deny the strange feelings he felt for (Reader).

It was different. Almost sickining. The feeling practically made his skin crawl. It made him crave to have (Reader) to himself.

And that’s exactly what he’ll do. Dream was always there for (Reader). Whether they wanted him to be there or not.

He was their constant source of support. The only person that every cared for them.

Dream has observed them through everything. He was there to comfort (Reader) in Pogtopia when Wilbur desented into madness. The masked man protected them against Techno’s withers. He even defended them when Tommy accused (Reader) of helping grief George’s house.

It started out as a manipulation tactic but Dream couldn’t deny the strange feelings he felt for (Reader).

It was different. Almost sickining. The feeling practically made his skin crawl. It made him crave to have (Reader) to himself.

And that’s exactly what he’ll do.

@haannaa1 @aspengracek-twitchtv

#yandere dsmp #yandere dream #dream #dream fanfic #yandere dreamsmp #yandere dream smp #yandere dream smp x reader #yandere dream x reader #dream smp #dreamwastaken x you #dream x reader #c!dream x y/n #c!dream x reader

[icdrawings]

Nightmare before Christmas swap au

By @cloudy-dreams

My characters as Sally versions

I've thought about the swap au and decided to make the Treasure's as Sally or Sally looking to take care of the professor Partridge (Poppy)

Info:

Coin and Jewel are the oldest being twins and help out in the town

Gold was created later but was made with more delicate limbs making them easy to rip so they weren't allowed to leave much

The twin sneaks out Gold from time to time but no one in the village really knows what they look like but know that they are Coin and Jewels little siblings

#welcome home #o/c #welcome home oc #wally darling x o/c #wally darling x reader #wally x reader #fanart #nightmare before christmas au #@clowdy dreams

[justpuppylove]

JEALOUSY PART 2

Dom!quackity x afab reader smut

Kinks/warnings: choking, degrading, spit, daddy kink, breeding

PART 1 -

After you go home for the night you come back to the casino to quackity ignoring you. Not that you gave a fuck after the stunt he pulled the other day. Even though he was trying to make it look likes he was ignoring you it was very obvious he was glancing over at you every change he got. He could feel his blood boiling every-time you got flirty with a customer. Eventually, you went outside for your break and you saw someone following you out of the corner of your eye.

“Y/N.” Quackity says as he grabs your wrist and turns you around to face him. You look in his eyes and he looks pissed. His grip on your wrist is very tight and it slightly stings. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He says as he squeezes your arm tighter. “What?” You say very confused. What is he talking about? What did you do? “You know what I’m talking about. First you fucked Wilbur even though you know how much I hate him, and now you’re flirting with clients directly afterwards? How jealous are you trying to make me.” Quackity responds, pulling you closer to him so his face is only inches away from yours. Now you knew what he meant. “Quackity I can do whatever I want. You don’t own me and you can’t control who I fuck.” You say knowing it’ll make him even more pissed. Quackity grabs your throat and your hands immediately grab his wrist as a reflex. “I’ll show you who you fucking belong to.”

He pushes you onto your knees and shoves his thumb into your mouth making you slide out your tongue for him. He spits onto your face and slaps you. A grin grows on his face as you go to unbutton his pants. “Awe. You really are a whore for me, hm?” He says making you look at him, all you can do is nod. He lets you unbutton his pants and you pull out his dick. Precum is already leaking out of his tip and you can’t help but smile up at him as you kiss his tip. He takes his dick into his hand and slaps his tip onto your face. He pushes his dick into your mouth with a groan. He grabs your hair and immediately begins face fucking you. “Such a nasty slut.” He says while pushing his dick deep into your throat, making you gag. He groans as he pulls out with a ‘pop’.

He sits you down on top of a table and pulls your clothes off. He latches his mouth onto your neck and pushes two fingers inside of you. “Ah~ daddy” you moan out while grabbing onto the back of his head. “Say that again.” He demands while thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “I need you to fuck me daddy.” You say, looking up to him with teary eyes. He pulls his fingers out of you and brings them up to your mouth. You suck on his fingers while he pressed his tip into your entrance, making you moan. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and onto your clit as he bottoms out inside of you. He begins slamming into you while squeezing your throat. “You feel so fucking good baby” he whispers into your ear, sending a shiver through your body. You squeeze around him in response, making him groan. He removes the hand from your clit and grabs your thighs instead, giving him a better grip to fuck into you. He digs his nails into your hips as he slams into you. You can feel your orgasm unraveling as you wrap your arms around him. “So close~ can I cum for you daddy?” You ask. “Cum on my dick like the slut you are.” He says slamming into you even harder. This makes you cum all over him but he doesn’t stop. He continues fucking into you as tears form in your eyes “s-stop” you say as you feel yourself being overstimulated. “Take me like the good slut you are” he says groaning. You both feel the same knot in your stomachs as you edge close to another orgasm. “I’m going to fill you up so good darling, everyone will know you belong to me.” He says right before he cums inside of you. His hot seed spills out inside of you as you cum on his dick.

You both lean on each other as you come down from your orgasms and he cleans you up. You both go back to the casino together and you can tell this will be a regular occurrence from now on.

#dsmp #dream smut #dsmp smut #quackity #quackity smut #dream smp #mcyt #mcyt tickle #mcyt smut #minecraft #justpuppylove #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #wilbur soot x reader smut #wilbur soot smut #wilbursoot #smut #daddy #c!quackity #las nevadas

[iamthemain-character]

That’s Your Ex?

c!technoblade x goddess! reader, ex!dreamXD x reader, hinted dreamXD x c!georgenotfound

she/her pronouns

TW: none

mcyt masterlist

You could practically feel the stare; sure enough, as you turned your head towards your partner, he was looking at you as if he had never seen you before.

You straightened up, stretching after being bent over the potato garden for hours. The snow was lightly melting, and you knew that Technoblade enjoyed the moments of sunshine that broke the monotony of snowy tundra.

Collecting the harvested potatoes, you still could feel Techno watching you.

“It’s impolite to stare you know.”

“Art is meant to be looked at.”

Slightly scoffing at the complimentary pickup line, you threw a clump of dirt at your partner. “That was cheesy and you know it.”

Technoblade smiled, getting up and walking over to you. When he reached your side, he held your face in his hands, his thumbs gently running over your cheeks. “Maybe, but you are absolutely gorgeous.”

Technoblade placed a kiss on your forehead before turning and taking his basket of seedling potatoes back towards the house. Collecting up your materials as well, you followed his footsteps.

Just as you were coming around the corner, however, you saw Technoblade standing, his sword drawn. Hearing your footsteps as you approached he held his hand out, warning you to stay back, but you were not so easily wavered. Looking over Techno’s shoulder, you saw what the threat was:

your ex.

More specifically, DreamXD. You two had once had an on again, off again type of relationship, mostly full of grand gifts and excessive flirting on your ex’s part. Eventually you got tired of it and moved on, and later you were rewarded with the love of your life.

But DreamXD was a jealous god, and he had a hard time letting you go. He used to try to win you back, swinging wildly between lavish gifts and intense threats. You knew at the end of the day, however, that he would never lay a hand on you. You both were wise enough to know that no one ever won in a war between gods.

Eventually, you did tire of the constant unwelcome attention, so you moved into the mortal realm. And that was how you met Technoblade and eventually fell in love.

But now DreamXD was here again, determined to ruin the peace. Rolling your eyes, you walked by Techno, arms crossing over your chest as you stopped in front of DreamXD.

“Y/n.” His voice was smooth and echoey this time, the one he used when he wanted to fit in with mortals.

“DreamXD. What are you doing here?”

The god titled his head, playing up innocence. “It’s been a while Y/n, can’t I come see you?”

Scoffing, you shook your head in return. “We both know you don’t just ‘come to see’ people. Please don’t tell me you want me to come back to you again.”

DreamXD paused a moment, considering your words. “You really don’t miss what we had, what we were?”

“No. No DreamXD, I don’t miss you.”

He didn’t respond; he simply stood there and stared at you. He shifted his gaze behind you, looking at Technoblade.

“You fell in love with a mortal.”

You felt Technoblade get closer to you, his sword still drawn in case you needed protection. You smiled despite yourself, trying to appear as neutral as possible. “I did.”

DreamXD nodded again, but he seemed distant, like he was thinking about something entirely different. “These mortals, they do have a strange charm to them, do they not.”

Just as he said those words, a figure came crashing through the tree line. Clad in blue with large, white-rimmed glasses, they approached DreamXD casually.

“Where have you been? You said you were going to help me?” The crisp accent came through, the person impatiently looking at the god.

You watched as DreamXD’s entire body language changed, his attention solely on this one person. You saw him become possessive and obsessive, and you recognized that this must be the “strange charm” DreamXD had just been talking about.

The newcomer started walking away, and DreamXD followed after. Looking back one last time, he nodded, a sign of farewell to you. As the pair disappeared into the distance, you took a deep breath and turned to look at your partner. Wrapping your arms around his neck, Technoblade pulled you in close, touching your foreheads together.

“What the heck was that Y/n?”

“Oh, that was my ex, sorry about that.”

Technoblade blinked a couple times, trying to process this information. “The god of this server is your ex???”

You pressed a kiss to his lips before letting go and walking back to the house, grabbing the potatoes you had previously abandoned. “Don’t worry, he’s just an ex, that’s all.”

“Heh?????”

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