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metalhoops · 1 year

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Steve’s party trick was appearing sober long past the point of inebriation.

It was an act he’d perfected through observation. He’d watched his mother down wine like water and waltz into a garden party looking sober as a saint. So when everything went down at the Starcourt Mall, with the drugs and the appearance of another burgeoning concussion-induced migraine fogging the edges of his vision, he’d pushed through with professional tact.

Steve couldn’t explain how it happened. One moment he was sitting on the kitchen counter, cradling a bag of frozen peas to his bare face, freezer burn nipping at the edges of his consciousness, and the next he was sprawled out on the carpet of a stranger’s house.

What happened in between, he’d never know.

Maybe it was for the best. Ignorance was bliss, in Steve’s opinion. His life was so much easier before the Upside Down. He would’ve been a worse person and lived a worse life. Yet his life would’ve been close to normal, not the mercurial mess it’d become. He wouldn’t have spent the night locked in a secret underground soviet bunker, his face doubling as a punching bag for a man he didn’t know, while monsters roamed about the town.

The mall had burned down, Steve remembered. After all was said and done, Mrs Byers dropped him and Robin off at their respective homes. Steve insisted he didn’t need to go to the hospital, that he was fine and, more importantly, that his parents were home. When Robin sobered up, she’d realise Steve had lied.

He’d told Robin a lot of things, and after the night in the mall, so had she. She knew Steve’s parents had been out of town for months, but she’d been flying too high to use any of her admittedly brilliant brain to put two and two together. Steve loved Robin. He loved her differently after that night, but he still loved her. He was human. He needed time to lick his wounds and some space. The quiet of the Harrington house had seemed like a blessing, so where the hell was he now?

“Hey, what did you take?” A vaguely familiar voice shook Steve from his stupor.

He rolled away from the sound, burying his face in the carpet. He cringed as a spark of pain shot through the veiled numbness that’d inhabited his body since the Russian drugs had hijacked his system.

“Ouch,” Steve grumbled miserably.

His head throbbed. One eye was entirely swollen shut. Even if Steve was sober, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to place the boy through his hazy vision. All he could make out were colours, pale skin, dark hair, and darker clothes.

“I know. I know. You’ve got a real shiner, Harrington. Come on, up,” the boy instructed.

Steve felt cool skin graze against the nape of his neck, pulling him up into a sitting position. Steve remained boneless, not making the task easy.

He felt separate from his body, not sure where he ended and the rest of the world began. Once pulled up, he kept falling forward, his face making contact with the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt. The boy was more comfortable than the floor, with less carpet burn and more smooth leather. He smelled of smoke, sweat and an earthy kind of cologne that hadn’t been refreshed in hours.

“Elevator up,” Steve chuckled, laughing too hard for his own good.

His ribs ached. He felt a laugh shudder through the boy’s body as he pulled Steve back, trying to get a better look at him. He held a finger in front of Steve’s face.

“Not sure what this is meant to do but I’ve seen it in movies,” the boy commented as he moved his finger right to left, inspecting Steve’s face for something, neither boy was quite sure of.

“Alright. You’ve gotta know I’m the least likely person to narc on you, Harrington. What did you take? Special K? Some Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds? Were you Chasing the Dragon? Gotta be something stronger than weed, man,” the boy insisted.

Steve screwed up his nose and moved away from the man.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Steve complained, trying to untangle the string of words the guy had thrown his way.

Steve staggered to his feet, swaying before propping himself up, leaning against the wall, and feeling the whole thing tilt under his weight.

“Dude, your walls are broken,” Steve muttered, as his legs gave out and he slid down to the floor.

“We’re in a trailer, Steve,” the boy pointed out. Steve looked around the place, trying to make shapes from the blurs of colour and light.

“Oh yeah,” He noted before resting his chin on his knee.

The boy sat down in front of him, mirroring Steve’s posture, his chin resting on the bare knees of his ripped jeans.

“Do you know what you took?” He pushed on, this time taking a different approach.

“No,” Steve admitted, at last, sliding forward.

The boy’s rings had caught his attention. They were little halos of light. He curiously tugged at his hand, pulling him close to examine the shine. He ran his fingers over the rise and fall of the rings.

“Okay,” the dark-haired boy breathed, seemingly to himself.

“I think you need to go to the hospital, dude.”

“No hospitals,” Steve remarked eloquently as he returned to his previous position, face down on the carpet, taking the boy's hand with him.

“Yeah well, I’m not so sure I like the idea of you sleeping either, Stevie,” He reasoned, his voice sounding strangled.

“I’m tired,” Steve rebutted, his eyes sliding shut.

There the boy was again, taking Steve’s face into his palm and pulling him up. For a moment, the vision in his good eye cleared enough to make out brown eyes painted with concern.

“Look, I know we hated each other’s guts in high school but I don’t want you to O.D. on my carpet. It’s not good for the ambience,” the boy continued.

Steve squinted, trying to place the face. Sure, he’d been a jerk in high school, particularly before his senior year, but he didn’t remember hating anyone. Not really. Maybe Jonathan, for a time, but that had passed.

Munson. Steve’s brain supplied at last. The boy was Eddie Munson. He sold drugs and hung out on the fringes of Steve’s bigger parties back in the peak of his ‘King Steve’ era.

“You hated me?” Steve asked, hearing the hurt in his voice before he realised what he was feeling. Eddie’s eyes widened in alarm, Steve’s face still in his palm.

“What? No. I thought you hated me. I mean, you were a jock and I’ve got my whole ‘fuck the man shtick’, so it wasn’t like we ran in the same circles,” Eddie elaborated.

“Jocks are ‘the man’?” Steve questioned. He’d like to blame the drugs, but he’d probably ask the question sober.

“No. Yes. Kind of. Jocks are like... the grease for a cog in the wheel of the machine. All mass compliance to societal norms... or whatever.”

Steve blinked owlishly at Eddie, trying to make a lick of sense out of what he’d said before resigning himself to the fact that he was completely lost.

“I like Grease. It’s a cool movie,” he settled on, startling another laugh out of Eddie. He gently lowered Steve’s face onto the carpet and sighed.

“Yeah, it’s a cool movie,” he muttered, leaving Steve for a moment, tossing sheets and a pillow from the sofa to the floor beside him.

“Look, I’m going to stay up and make sure you don’t choke on your own tongue. You can stay here for the night, but I’m not letting you crash until my uncle gives you the thumbs up, weirdo.”

Eddie slid a cushion beneath Steve’s head and draped the sheet over him. Steve was bone tired. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the pain in his body was growing by the moment and less favourable memories were leaking back into the forefront of his mind. He watched as Eddie placed a tape into the VCR and sat down beside Steve. It took him too long to realise the film was Grease.

“Who’d you get into a fight with this time?” Eddie asked, seemingly aware of Steve’s sudden restlessness.

Steve didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to.

“Were the drugs before or after?” He pushed, searching for something Steve couldn’t work out.

Again, Steve didn’t know how to answer. Once more, Eddie let it slide.

“You want me to call anyone? A girlfriend... or?” He doesn’t mention Steve’s parents.

Maybe he was at more parties than Steve remembered, enough to know that the Harringtons being in Hawkins was rarer than a blue moon, less frequent than even Steve would admit to.

“No,” Steve grumbled, starting to feel the swelling in his lip.

Eddie nodded and let Steve have his silence. He half paid attention to the flashing lights on the screen, fading in and out of consciousness. Eddie would gently elbow his side each time Steve almost reached sleep. It was a long night, broken only by the opening of a door come sunrise.

The light was too bright, too sudden. Steve shrunk from it curling into the closest point of dark comfort. Steve realised too late he’d curled himself into a small ball, tucking his face into the familiar darkness provided by Eddie’s crossed legs.

“What in the Sam Hill have you gotten into, kid?” Steve heard a gruff voice ask in the doorway. Despite his words, the man didn’t sound angry, more amused.

Steve felt Eddie pull the sheets up to hide his broken face from the light.

“You know when I was fourteen, and I brought home that stray cat?” Eddie asked.

Steve heard a door shutting and the scrape of a dining chair sliding against the linoleum.

“The one that was sick as a dog?” The gruff voice replied. Probably Eddie’s uncle.

“Same situation,” Eddie spoke.

“You’re telling me you found a kid wanderin’ round the trailer park at night and thought you’d bring him home? You remember what happened to that cat, right?” His uncle asked.

“He went missing after a week. Then we found him half-kickin’ curled up in the back seat of the Johnsons’ cinder-blocked Austin,” Eddie muttered, stating the words as though it were a conversation Eddie and his uncle had before.

“And you didn’t leave your room for a week.”

“Your point, old man?” Eddie remarked.

“My point is, I love you, kid. But sometimes your bleeding heart is more trouble than it’s worth.”

To Steve’s surprise, the sheet was pulled off his head. The next thing he knew he was face to face with Eddie’s uncle. The man shone a torch in Steve’s eyes, echoing Eddie’s movements, placing a finger in front of his eyes. Eddie watched in silence at Steve’s side.

“He’s got a pretty bad concussion,” Eddie’s uncle supplied after a beat.

“He was on something when I found him,” Eddie said.

Steve was getting sick of people talking about him like he wasn’t there but in the same vein, he wanted to convalesce in peace. Eddie’s uncle shot him a sceptical look.

“Nothing I gave him, promise. He’s not letting me take him to the hospital.”

“He’s right here,” Steve interjected.

He watched as Eddie’s uncle levelled him under his intense gaze. For the first time since he’d entered the room, he wasn’t seeing symptoms, or a problem Eddie had dropped in his lap but a boy. A kid, in Wayne’s eyes, one that looked worse for wear. It was the goddamn cat all over again.

“I’m going to get you water and some aspirin. Eds, get some rest. No buts, kid you look like you haven’t slept a wink. Should also be safe enough for you to try to get some shut-eye, boy. I’m not Eddie, you can’t bat your eyes at me and get your way. I’m taking you to the hospital if anything happens, right?”

Steve looked at the man with narrowly masked surprise before giving him a weak nod. He couldn’t imagine his parents doing the same, not even for one of Steve’s friends, let alone a stranger.

“Come on, you can sleep in my room,” Eddie uttered, springing to his feet with a joviality that someone who’d gone twenty-four hours without sleep shouldn’t be able to muster.

Steve blinked, slowly standing and gathering the sheets around himself, acutely aware of how ridiculous he looked.

“Keep the door open,” Wayne called at their retreating backs.

That was how Steve spent the summer of ‘85 hauled up and healing at the Munsons’ trailer. A few months later, he’d return the favour. When Eddie went missing, Wayne knew where to look.

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nymphomatique · 7 months

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Thinking about reader getting rejected by some guy and she gets drunk and loser nerd miguel is there to comfort her and she is like "miggy you are so much better than him!!" (She won't admit she said that when she is sober) and she is crying and saying embarrassing stuff she likes about miguel while he is trying his best to comfort her. Things like "i actually think the glasses are so cute" "i love how smart you are, always so helpful" and it escalates into things like "i love sitting on your face and seeing the glasses fog up" "your dick is big for a nerd, i love sucking you off" etc. And Miguel is like 😳

she is finally here!! had a blast writing this one 🤭

cw: drunk reader, reader gets rejected and gets shitfaced, miguel being a sweetie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, erm like pantie sniffing? 😭 idk, cunnilingus, creampie, squirting (because why wouldn’t there be it’s me whose writing this), slightly drunk sex (can be considered dubcon), switch miguel??, undercover feelings if u squint🕺🏽i think that’s it lmk if i miss smt. and as usual, not proofread ❤️ enjoy my luvvies

wc: 3.0k

your head was pounding. but that’s to be expected with the excessive amount of alcohol in your system paired with the booming bass of whatever song was playing at whatever club you were at.

you felt so disoriented. at the beginning of the night, you wouldn’t have shown up if you had known what was going to happen. you came out tonight with your sorority friends because you had your sights set on hobie brown. tall, lanky, and fucking gorgeous. all night, you had done your best to push your tits up in your skimpy dress and sway your hips to the song that had been playing at the club to no avail. he left you alone, feeling high and dry to hook up with one of your friends instead. seeing him make out with her in the shared booth you had all pitched in for bad made you feel slightly insecure. was there something wrong with you? you had chosen not to dignify that question with a verbal answer but rather with shots of tequila, and that had been 4 shots ago.

your head was spinning, and you felt so so warm in the club. in this moment you found yourself thinking of one thing only, miguel. you hated yourself for it. and when a mysterious double shot of vodka had appeared in front of you, the bartender saying some guy had payed for them with you, you downed them no question. the burn in your throat quieting the burn in your mind. but only temporarily. you can’t stop thinking about him. his curly brown hair, his plump lips, his cut nose, his eyes, and those glasses he wears. you find yourself missing him in this moment, yearning for him to make you feel better. you’re ready to go home.

you push yourself away from the bar counter, and the push sends you reeling backwards and onto your ass with an “oof!”. with the strobe lights, loud music, and moving bodies, you were nothing in the sea of movement and stimulation on the floor. you figure the floor is your best option at regaining some sense of orientation, so you pull your phone out and order yourself an uber home to the best of your ability. through your hazy vision, you open your messages, scrolling through your contacts until you find the one you’re looking for, under the name ‘four eyes’. without thinking, your thumbs start moving, and you’re pressing send periodically.

you figure you’re done, and you brace yourself to get up and navigate through the sea of bodies ahead of the exit.

in his dorm at his desk, miguel sat quietly studying for his upcoming molecular biology quiz, when his phone starts to buzz.

my love <3

1:22 am. — r y awsje

1:22 am. — awake

1:22 am. — my roon in 15

1:23 am. — pls

miguel looks at his phone, trying to decipher whatever gibberish you had been typing. he figures you mean to meet him at your dorm, a little escape between you two at this time of night wasn’t unusual, but never initiated like this. miguel bookmarks his page in his textbook before closing it, grabbing some water and ibuprofen with him before he makes his way to your dorm.

when he arrives, he sees you on the floor leaning against your door, barely awake. you perk up however at miguel’s footsteps, your eyes fluttering open and a small smile plastering across your face. “miguellll,” you exclaim, throwing your hands towards him. “dunno my room code. piggy back me!” you giggle, rather loudly at that. miguel smiles a bit, walking over briskly to shush you. “okay baby, but you gotta be quiet, yeah?” he smiles, taking you in so.. free. happy.

a smile graces your lips, eyes hazy and blinking, hair messy and unkept like the clothes you wore, but to miguel you were as beautiful as ever, even at your most unguarded. he watches you with a smile, knowing this will be the last time for a good while he’s going to see you like this. he kneels, placing an arm at your back, scooping under you arms, the other arm at the back of your knees. with a swiftness, he steps back up with you in his harms with no sweat, and as drunk as you are damn do you find it hot. your face burries itself in miguel’s pectoral, covered by his soft grey sweater.

you breathe him in quietly as your head the buttons to your room door beep and your handle twist somewhere distant. all you can think about is miguel. as drunk as you were, your eyes would always find the time to focus on him. the way butterflies erupted in your stomach as you saw him walk towards you in his plaid pyjama pants and his loose sweater, glasses atop his head. he looked tired as ever, probably busy studying quantum mechanics or something. yet, here you were in his string arms. miguel, miguel, miguel. you look up at him as he walks you to your bed, and you catch a look at his resting face. he naw tense and sharp, lips pursed, brows bushy and furrowed, his brown eyes sharp and attentive. you’ve never seen him like this. you like seeing him like this. your hand creeps up to his jaw, tracing the muscle and vein, in brief brushes as miguel finally sets you down on your bed.

you’re sat with your back parallel to the wall the length of your bed sits along, head leaning back and reeling in the coolness of the painted wall.

“you enjoy yourself back there?” he teases, smiling softly at you, beginning to undo your necklace clasp. you smile sheepishly, feeling warm and embarrassed you let yourself get caught staring and touching him like that. “s’okay. you know i love it when you touch me.”

and there it is. the sharpness and the bite in miguel that you’re not used to seeing, the miguel who makes your stomach burn with a look, makes your chest pound by saying things like ‘i love it when you touch me.’ he’s long gone from your neck, his nimble fingers at your wrists, unclamping your bracelets and slipping off your rings, placing an occasional kiss on your knuckles. and you sit in silence as he takes care of you, stripping you ever so slightly more bare than you were before, not just physically.

you watch and see the attentiveness in his moved, how he’s careful with you. he moves to take your shoes off next, kneeling as he does so. the begins to unbuckle one strap of your heel, focus built in his face as he does so. he pulls your shoe off, massages your foot, up to your ankle, up to your calf, stopping right as the burning you feel on your skin begins to pick up. you break the comfortable silence with the whisper of his name from your lips.

“yes, my love?” he hums, rubbing soft circles in your calves.

“you’re so good to me. make me really happy,” you murmur.

“yeah? you make me happy too.”

“not just that,” you begin, perking up a bit from your slumped posture. “you’re really smart. makes you really attractive.”

he keeps rubbing soft circles into your supple skin, but this time he’s looking up at you, a slight redness to his cheeks. adorable.

“you’re big n’strong too. carryin’ me like that to my bed,” you giggle. you lean forward, your face a few inches closer to miguel’s. “made my pussy fuckin’ wet,” you whisper at him, leaning back against the wall to watch him, a stunned look on his face. “my other shoes not gonna take itself off.”

miguel doesn’t let your comment phase him, at least beyond the physical sense, as he moves to take your other shoe off. and he repeats. unbuckle, massage, foot, ankle, calf, thigh- thigh? you watch miguel quietly, his hands rubbing and kneading into the meat of your lower thigh. higher and higher his hands creep, until they’re sitting right below the rolled-up hem of your dress. miguel looks up at you, waiting for a sign, an order. wordlessly, you let your legs spread apart.

miguel takes heed of your cue, and his hands gently trail up your thigh and split at its junction, each of his large hands latched onto your hips. he abruptly pulls you forward, and you let out a small squeak. miguel pays you no mind, his eyes on the prize present between your legs. he burries his strong nose into your clothed vagina, rubbing at your clit a bit and he inhales, moaning at the smell. your stomach tightens a bit and you feel both embarrassed and aroused at his display.

“smell as good as you taste.”

you bite your lip and snake your hand up to the thick head of hair in between your legs, pushing him closer to your panty covered wetness. “quit teasin’ me, you breathe out, miguel’s strong nose prodding at your clit. at your expression he moves to lick a stripe up your pussy, licking up the taste of you from your soaked underwear. you let out a soft exhale, feeling sated at the kitten licks miguel gives you. he trails up your clothed wetness once more, and moves the gusset of your panty to the side, exposing you to him.

ever anxious, you hold in a breath, ready and waiting for miguel. after a beat he finally places his mouth on you, delving between your folds and training up between them to reach your clit, which he sucks into his mouth hard. you can’t help but let out a moan, praising him for his work. “f-feels so good, migs. keep goin’ for me.”

and he does, licking and sucking and thrusting up into you until you’re writhing writhin his grasp and you find yourself on the cusp of your orgasm. that is until he pulls away. he’s sat on his haunches, mouth wet and face flushed, lust heavy in his eyes at he looks at you.

“please, mistress, can i make you feel good?”

you lean forward and grab him by his sweater collar, pulling him up to your bed, his face inches from yours. your lips ghost his as you whisper, “you always make me feel good.” you pull him in for a kiss, your lips hot and heavy against miguel’s, swirling your tongues between each others. when you feel void of breath, you break up the kiss, taking a moment to look at miguel until you push him back against the bed, throwing your leg over his hips so that you were straddling him.

“wanna know something else?” you begin, leaning your head down to kiss his cheek. “you always make me cum. with that big dick of yours.” you grind your hips against his, feeling him throb against your pussy even through his sweats. “you always make me cum, even make me wet the bed and squirt. no other man has done that to me.” you continue kissing and suckung his neck, being sure to leave the unmistakable mark of hickeys down his jugular.

miguel moans, his arms tensing and hips jerking up at the sensation and you giggle a bit. “want you to fuck me and make me cum with that dick of yours. hard.” you leave him with your words as you get off him, stumbling a bit, the remaining alcohol in your blood making itself present. you watch miguel, still laying against your bed and you strip for him. you pull your tight dress up and over your head, shimmying it off you until you’re only in your panties. you wore no bra.

at the sight, miguel gulps and raises off the bed, ridding himself of his pants and sweater in record time, until he’s naked in front of you. you peel your panties off of you, throwing them at miguel’s face as you walk over to him and push him back into the position the two of you were in once more. you’re sat on top of miguel’s hard length, laughing at his eyes peeking through the gusset of your lacy underwear. “bet you like havin’ my panties on your face,” you tease, running your hands up his chest, ghosting his hard nipples. he lets out a sharp inhale and you roll your eyes, grabbing your underwear off of miguel’s face. “open,” you command, and his jaw unhinges without a spare moment. you ball up the lace fabric in your hands and shove it in his mouth, biting your lip at seeing miguel like this.

“you’re so fucking sexy, especially now that you can’t talk.”

you decide you’re done teasing, ready to finally satisfy yourself, and you lift you hips up. “put it in yourself,” you tell miguel, and a muffled sigh comes out of his mouth as he grabs his cock, aligning it with your wetness. miguel’s eyes close and his hips jerk up, his fat tipping pushing through you. miguel grabs your hips, squeezing and his keeps going, pushing the entirety of his length within you. you moan, the stretch burning so good along with the slight rush of liquor running through you. you feel hot and lightheaded, and good. so good. when miguel is fully sheathed in you, you don’t give him a moments rest before you plant your hands on his soft pecks and push your hips up to slam them back down.

miguel let’s out muffled curses, and your breaths become to come out faster and shorter as your hips keeping going up and down. “fuckin’ love this cock. s’all mine. don’t ever wanna share you,” you moan out. miguel’s feet plant into your bed and he matches your thrusts, his hands pulling your hips down as he thrusts up into you, causing you to squeal. he’s hitting you deep and hard and you don’t know how long you can take it like this. in the midst of it all, one of miguel’s hands leave your hips to make its way to your clit, rubbing your swollen bud. your body tenses and shakes, and your feel your orgasm build itself up quickly.

“g-gonna cum,” you moan out, looking at miguel. you already find him looking at you, his face in utter ecstasy. your underwear in his mouth is darkened from his saliva, his forehead covered in a light sheen of sweat, his hair strewn across your sheets. he makes your stomach clench, and you feel yourself shake from your orgasm. miguel doesn’t let up, he’s still fucking you and prodding your clit. he’s determined to make you squirt, just like you told him to.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, i’m- ah!” you babble, your brain beginning to fog. your first orgasm doesn’t even let up when you feel a second one hit you, and a groan leave miguel at you tightening and leaking around him. “h-hurts to good, please don’t stop baby please please please.”

he has you begging, the pleasure feeling too much. he’s still not done yet, his determination to make you squirt keeping him going. he flips you both, so that you’re laying against the bed, with him kneeling above you. you’re in such a deep haze that you don’t even realize until you hear miguel speak. he took your panties out of his mouth.

“gonna soak me? i need it, baby. you can do it, huh?” you hear him in your ear. your legs are over his shoulders and he’s pistoning into you and you just can’t. your head falls to the side when you feel a pressure build in your abdomen and you think you did it. liquid spurts from you, soaking you sheets and miguel’s stomach, and he lets out the deepest groan at the feeling. he’s still fucking you, hard thrusts and skin slapping. you feel light and you don’t know how much more you can take until miguel comes, and your hand weakly pushes at his stomach.

“move your hand, baby.”

you moan, the overstimulation becoming too much, and miguel assures you he’s close, almost there baby, hold on for me, yeah? and you do, you hold on even though you feel like his dick is in your throat and you’re gonna pass out if he keeps fucking you like this. you swear your prayers are answered when his thrusts slow, his moaning becoming erratic and loud.

“fuck baby, m’cumming. so good for me, mommy, so fuckin’ good.”

his warm seed fills you up and his thrust still, your back arches at the feeling and a small stream of liquid gushes from you again with a heavy moan. “fuck baby, you still squirting f’me” miguel groans. he pulls out of you slowly, the feeling causing you to shake a bit. when he’s finally removed from yoh, you close your eyes, feeling a kiss to your forehead and sleep pulling a cover over you.

the next morning, you wake up with a blistering headache and a soreness to your body that just pisses you off, more than the sun peeking through your blinds. you groan as you get up, your sheets falling off of you and you see you’re in a grey sweater. huh.

you turn to your bedside table and see that it’s 10:37 am, with a glass of water and two white pills next to it. you reach for them when you hear your room door open, and none other than miguel o’hara enters your room. he greets you with a smile and you scowl at him, noticing the bag of fast food in his hands.

“brought breakfast for you. thought you would, um, be hungry.” he says. you look at him, the scowl leaving your face, and you feel the itchings of a smile poking at your face. if miguel notices, he doesn’t say anything, but he drops the fast food bag on your bed and kisses your forehead, before he disappears off into your bathroom somewhere.

you fucking can’t stand him.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel atsv smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x y/n #sub miguel o'hara #<nerd!miguel3 #you’ve got mail 💌

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dotchannie · 8 days

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- 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚎, 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 :: c.bc x reader (MDNI)

synopsis: after chan's phone call, you rush home to find him in an unexpected predicement, offering to help him out in his time of need.

a/n: part 2 repost! the only double parter i ever wrote and ofc it was for dirty little channie,, my beloved subby boy, please enjoy xx (i dont think i used any gender implications but if there is its fem)

wc: 1,596.

PART 1 !

Warnings:petnames(baby, naughty boy?,angel, my love),feelings of panic on readers behalf, male masturbation with sex toys, swearing, edging, teasing, ball fondling, growling, begging.

You barrel through the front door, barely taking any care to make sure it's locked behind you as you do so- the sound of Chans struggling voice is sitting at the forefront of your mind and you know that whatever is bothering him needs to be your priority, panic building since he hung up abruptly.

"Chan?! Baby where are you?"

You're just about screaming now, out of breath as you sprint up the stairs two at a time, trying to cover as much ground as you can- praying nothing sinsiter finds you before you find him.

Chan can hear you, clear as day but his limbs have resumed a jelly like state. Unable to shout back he lays motionless- post nut paralysis robbing him of his physical abilities.

"CHAN?", you’re getting louder as you travel down the hallway to the master bedroom. Doors slamming into walls as you do so, making Chan wince- if he could.

You should have guessed he'd be in the last room you checked, instincts forgot in a blinding moment of anxiety. Aggressively swinging the final door open, you’re offered a brief moment of calm- his figure slouched in a haphazard manner before your eyes.

Rushing over to his bedside, you place the back of your hand on his forehead- the other palm down over his heart. He's clammy. Hearth thumming erratically against his ribs.

"What is it are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you move? Do yo-", your onslaught is stopped when you register his hand moving in your peripheral vision, limp wrist raising just enough to gesture towards the culprit- lay in a mocking manner after having brought a man to his knees in an instant.

a small 'oh' is all that leaves your lips as you put two and two together, eyes travelling to Chans crotch where you see the evidence of his fun.

"OH" you all but yelp, eyes drifting to meet his face.

"That thing…" he starts, eyes still squeezed shut, ”…that thing is lethal".

Oogling him, your brain becomes hazy at the sight infront of you- he’s absolutely fucked out. Senses fried from a severe serving of stimulation in a matter of minutes.

"hmph- can you stop staring like that and just laugh if your going to", Chan whines.

Your eyes refocus at the sound of him, mouth hanging open as you formulate a response in your head. He's still fully clothed but the flush across his face is nothing short of intoxicating- ears red in shame.

Not trusting your voice, you clear your throat before you speak up.

"Channie..., naughty boy-" words flowing like a carol as you taunt him, "did you get yourself off with my toy?"

He whimpers, an audible response to your interrogation- big brown eyes wet and full of uncertainty.

Chan nods, wholey uncertain as to why he’s so keen on shrivelling before your stare right now and tentatively shifts his legs into a comfier position- a grimace crossing his face as the stickiness lining his boxers slides across the head of his cock.

"How did it feel? it's good isn't it?"

His hips stutter. A flutter of aurosal in his stomach as he imagines you using it on your own sex- head collecting your slick, traces probably still evident on the silicon if he had bothered to check beforehand.

"fuck-" he sighs under his breath, "yeah, yeah it is"

"want me to show you how good?"

He nods instantly, head lolling back and adams apple bobbing when he realises exactly what he's agreeing to.

"I need more than that Chan, need to hear you say it"

Head rolling to face you, he looks you dead in the eye, "Ruin me, please baby- fuck, make me cum".

You reach out a hand to cup his cheek, his lips planting a kiss on your inner wrist as you do- an unspoken agreement between the pair of you that this is what he wants.

"hmm, we're gonna enjoy this"

Straighting up from your crouched position by Chan’s side, you crawl onto the bed- a knee firmly planted on either side of his legs, weight resting on the thick of his thighs. From this view you can see the dark spot on his pants. Sheer volume allowing his excitement it to seep through the heavy material.

You tentatively reach out- one lone fingertip hovering over him, idly outling the damp patch and making his chest rumble- eyes flickering up to observe him, you apply more pressure, dragging back and forth a handfull of times until you withdraw your hand entirely to land a couple of successive pats to his hip bone.

"how about we get these off?"

Chan shows his agreement, lifting his hips to allow you to awkwardly scooch his pants down to his knees.

"Not the ideal day to wear jeans baby", you comment with a giggle.

Chan’s head slumps backward once more, a sigh of relief escaping due to his cock being removed from its denim prison. Smoothing your hands up and down the muscle of his upper thighs, your thumbs dip beyond the junction where they meet- tickling at his expectant nerves and making him shuffle beneath you.

He's not entirely hard anymore but some light teasings will do the trick- grasping him in your hand, you deliver a few shy pumps before gathering his previous spillage to use as lubricant.

Chan can't help but ball his hands into fists at the contact, still slightly sensitive from his orgasm but gagging for another. Reaching to the side you retrieve the vibrator he had discarded.

"Ready?".

Gulping down a mouthful of nervous saliva, he offers you a response- "yeah, yes please".

"y'know-“ you start, finding humour in the question thats about to follow when the toy buzzes to life, "you can change the speed of these pretty easy?"

His eyes bug out of his head. Realisation hitting that he just busted the quickest in his life when he didn't even have to.

"Ah, it's okay Channie we all learn something the hard way"

You barely give him time to think before you make contact- fat head of the toy dancing across his slit in a way that forces his hips to thrust upward, vibrator following him up and back down. You figured he would react that way, free hand lowering to massage his balls.

Keeping him in the palm of your hand, literally, you can feel as he tightens- skin pulling taunt across his entire being when another orgasm dares rear its head. You pull away right at the cusp of another load, a guttural noise of disappointment bellowing from the pits of his stomach.

"ahhh- baby please, please just let me cum'.

"Sorry my love, you’re just too tempting right now. I’ll let you this time, yeah?"

Placing the toy adjacent to his cock, Chan can feel the dull vibrations up and down his length- a strong sensation tickling the far end of his shaft as you begin pumping the two simultaneously.

It doesnt take long for him to start writhing below you again, chanting out in broken plea's as his dick starts bouncing in your hand. You pull away again.

"FUCK!"- this time he growls, teeth bared as they clench together.

You've never seen him look so animalistic, especially not in the bedroom- especially not when he's below you.

It’s intoxicating, the control over his release right now but a small part of you is genuinely worried about his teeth shattering into shards.

Faking a pout as you jut out your lower lip in his direction, you offer a half hearted apology- "sorry baby, but you look so hot right now it would be criminal to not tease you"

Chan raises himself onto his elbows. Suddenly making you aware of his completely clothed upper half and so you reach forward, taking the zipper between two fingers and dragging it down the span of his torso- delighted by the lack of layers beneath as his smooth skin greets you inch by inch.

"that was just for me, wanna see you tense".

Chan huffs, one breath coming out in an off beat rhythm of stuttered air.

"I am begging can you please, please please for the sake of everything just make me cum!"

A smile graces your lips as you lean foward to kiss him slowly.

"Well… because as you asked so nice, sure thing", giving him one last peck as you pull away- he chases you as you go.

This time when you place the vibrator to him, you circle the head of his cock painfully lazily. No change in your pace as you drag him closer and closer to what he wants.

His hips are rocking desperately with you now- up and down in tandem with your circular motions to experience pleasure from every angle he possibly can. He shudders. A violent shake of his shoulders as goosebumps decorated the surface of his skin.

"yeah, y-eah angel. Just like that." He encourages you, trying to get some semblance of control in a situation he's not in charge of.

Chans rising further off the bed now, becoming sloppy like he does everytime he fucks you and you clench at the memory- zoning out momenterially before his sweet noises bring you straight back.

He's chanting like a madman. Every muscle in his body pulled taunt, toes curling painfuly as he grasps at nothing- but it's no good.

He cums, thick and fast, with the majority of it landing in the dips of his stomach- the rest spattering across your face.

🏷️: @rose-tinted-kalopsia

𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 !

#bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x reader smut #chan x reader #chan x reader smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader smut #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x reader smut

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lucifersimp333 · 1 year

Text

Shameless Lucifer

NSFW

18+ ONLY

MINORS DO NOT READ

Content Warning: Alcohol, public sex, hair pulling.

Finally, you and Lucifer have some alone time with each other! You both lied to the brothers saying it was a quick dinner at Hell's Kitchen as a reward for good grades, but little do they know that you two snuck through a portal (Thanks, Barb!) to head to a club in the human world.

AFAB

She/Her pronouns

Lucifer has a black button down shirt, black dress pants, and his finest leather shoes on. You knew he knows how to dress, but your eyes can't help but wonder down his toned back and admire how the shirt perfectly hugs his figure. You both make your way to the bar and you order your drink of choice. Since Lucifer can't get drunk off of human alcohol, you shoved a few flasks of demonus in your purse. "Aaaand this is for you!" You say with a grin, handing him a flask. "Oh?" He says with a cocked eyebrow, " And what exactly is this for?" You roll your eyes, "Oh, come on. You need to let loose, too! No one from Devildom is here. Might as well have a little fun, right?" you say as you sip your drink. He shakes his head and gives an amused sigh. "I suppose you're right. You are quite unpredictable sometimes, MC." he says as he unscrews the cap and takes a swig.

You two spend the next hour or so chatting, laughing, and enjoying each other's company, not minding that you both are slurring your words. You feel your ears get drunkenly hot, and your vision is slightly blurred. Lucifers cheeks have grown rosy and has unbuttoned his shirt just enough to where you can see in between his toned pecks. The DJ plays one of your favorite party songs. You perk up and gasp, "Oh, I love this song! Come on, let's go dance!" you say excitedly. You chug whatever was left in your cup and grab Lucifer's hand, dragging him to the dance floor before he can have a chance to protest.

"You must have fallen on your head thinking I'm going to dance." He says as you two make it to the dance floor, talking a bit louder so you can hear him over the music. "Lucifer, take a look around!" You swing your arm out to emphasize the setting. "No one knows you here, and you will never see these people again." You begin to dance in front of him, swaying your hips to the music. "Just have some fun!" you plea with a drunken smile as you dance before him. Lucifer whips a flask out of his pocket and chugs the rest of demonus inside it. He quickly glances around him to double check that there are no familiar faces. Once the coast is clear, he starts dancing with you timidly.

As the night continues, you and Lucifer get drunker and more relaxed. The drunker Lucifer gets, the more comfortably sloppy he becomes. His shirt is unbuttoned ever lower, now being able to see the top of his abs. Your vision is hazy, but you can tell Lucifer has been inching closer and closer to you as the night progresses. You cant help but admire how well he dances, and my god how fucking sexy he looks. A few strands of hair stick to his forehead from sweat, his chest and torso glistening under the dance lights. Even with the flashing lights above the dance floor, his eyes still shine the brightest. His adams apple extra prominent as he breathes through his mouth while he stares hungrily at you. Your gaze wanders to his hips, glued to his pelvis swaying to the music. You've never seen him so carefree. Never in a million years did you think you would see Lucifer thrusting his pelvis so lustfully slow in a public setting. Who would have thought that relaxation looks so fucking sexy on him? With liquid confidence flowing through your system, you spin around with your back facing towards him. You begin to grind your dance moves into him, butt pressing against his pelvis. Lucifer smirks a sinister grin and places his hands on your hips, guiding them to the beat of the music. He makes your hips roll in a circular motion, rubbing your ass against his clothed dick. You feel his bulge press between your ass cheeks, turning you on by the second. You bite your lip to the newfound warmth between your legs and continue to dance on him.

Lucifer takes his right hand from your hip and glides it to the front of your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. He then inches his fingers closer and closer to the underside of your skirt. While dancing against your back, he places his face in the crook of your neck and begins giving it open mouth kisses. You gasp and lay the back of your head against his chest. It's surprising having Lucifer this shameless in such a public place. You quickly shoot your eyes across the dancefloor to make sure no one can see the immodest acts Lucifer is committing. Everyone else is in their own world dancing with their friends and partners. You let out a soft moan as he bites down on the flesh of your neck. You spread your legs ever so slightly from the wet arousal you feel brewing between your thighs.

Lucifer traces his tongue to your jawline, giving it little hungry nips. He slides his index and middle finger from your panty line to under your underwear. He spreads your pussy lips and begins to rub your clit with his middle finger. You press all your weight on to his torso and moan quietly, worrying how raunchy you may seem if someone were to see. You wrap your left arm around to hold the back of his head, gripping a handful of his silky black hair. He growls at the tug, sliding his fingers into your heat.

You turn your head so your mouth is pressed against his ear and whimper, " Lu-Lucifer, what is someone s-sees?". You struggle to keep your legs stable as the crowd of people dance around you, oblivious to you getting finger fucked by Lucifer Morningstar. "Who cares? Let them watch." He says with a slight slur to his voice. He shoves his fingers deeper inside you, biting down on your jugular. "You want them to see you creaming on my fingers, don't you? You naughty girl." He continues to finger fuck you under your skirt, still dancing slightly to blend in with the movement of others around you two. You tug on his hair as the sounds of your moans are drowned by the music. With his free hand, he runs his slender fingers up from under your shirt, under the bottom of your bra and begins to play with your nipple while fingering you. With all of your weight on him, you moan and buck your hips forward. Lucifer groans at the sound of your moan, toying with the inside of your weeping pussy. Unable to take any more, Lucifer slides his fingers out of you and grabs you by your arm. He sucks your slick off his two fingers as he drags you through the crowd to a lounge booth in the back corner of the club.

The back corner of the club is far from the bar and dance floor, free of people. Though people are too far away to pay attention to you, you have full view of everyone present in the club. He sits on the cushioned booth and unzips his cock free. He hastily pulls your underwear down to your ankles, keeping your skirt secure around your waist. In one swift motion he grabs your hips and forces you to sit down on his dick. You let out a yelp of pleasure, eyes glued to the crowd in front of you. "B-but Lucif-", you try to say, just to be interrupted by his hand covering your mouth from behind you. He bites your earlobe, "Just look at all those people, MC" he slurs in your ear as he begins to thrusts his dick in and out below you. " I bet you want them to watch." You moan behind his hand and slam your hand back on to his shoulder. With his free hand, he grabs a fist full of your hair and forces you look at the crowd in front of you. " Watch them, MC. Watch them while I fuck you." He growls in your ear, still keeping his left hand over your mouth while forcing you to look by the roots of your hair. You feel and hear his heavy breathing in your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You whine behind his mouth as you stare at the crowd with Lucifer plowing you from below. What if someone were to see? What if someone turns around and decides to sit in a booth? The risk turns you on even more, causing you to cream on his dick. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you reach your peak, moaning shamlessly in his hand. If it weren't for the music playing, for sure, the whole room would have heard. Lucifer reaches his climax shortly after you, grunting in your ear as he's biting down on your lobe. He fills you up with his hot demon seed.

Maybe The Avatar of Pride isn't too afraid of humility after all.

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me smut #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer smut #lucifer smut

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inkblot-inc · 8 months

Text

The Bigger Picture

Summary: See what happens when you undermine your boss AKA the one who's paying your bills...

Pairing: ???Wanda Maximoff x Hyena!Mutant!Reader

[S.S AU Masterlist]

Warning(s): This is an 18+ AU so MINORS DNI. Also Dark Themes in general. There's smut in the first half of this one: strap-on usage (r giving) oral sex (Wanda recieving). There's some pretty crass language as per usual on my end, I can’t think of much else but let me know.

Note(s): I present another the start of another AU, ladies and gentlefriends! Where did it come from? The deep reaches of my MIND not all that deep really, I just can't stop my brain from scratching like an addict- but it's pretty decent for fall/spoopy season I think. I hope y'all enjoy :3

Word Count: Just a bit shy of 2.1k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit!

You remember seeing the world through younger eyes. The scene around you is blurry and out of focus with only the barest hint of awareness of tears running down your face. The only thing you can make out is a man’s back, his imposing stature, his cropped hair, and how his figure seems to get smaller and smaller as he walks away from you. His apathy is the clearest; his steps never falter, not does her look back at you. You feel like an outside viewer as you watch a hand, your hand, continue to reach for him. You fight in another person’s grip as you're being dragged away.

“Baba please! Help me, I don’t wanna go!”

The lack of response through the high winds only made your yelling feel louder before your vision was then blocked by a hood over your face. Even if you couldn’t identify with the anguish anymore it still hissed at your nerves, grasping and pulling at you like a desperate whore for your attention…

The continued thump, thump, thumping sound throughout the room brought you back into the moment as you continued pounding the woman beneath you into the velvety couch cushions beneath. The woman’s wavy red hair splayed out and her nails digging into your shoulders as she let her moans fall from her mouth in an unending stream.

She gave a shout as she hit her orgasm and you watched her green eyes glaze over as she gave you a hazy smile, you returned a smaller one of your own. One of her hands slid up your chest to caress your throat, fingers running over the scarring coating the entirety of it.

Her eyes scanned yours in open concern. “Is everything okay? Where did you go just now?”

You merely squinted, “old-times...’s still loud.” Your voice came out gravely and with a creek.

With your thumb caressing her waist, you leaned back to sit upright before using a hand to move her half-unbuttoned blouse further down her arms. With more of the redhead's skin exposed and your head still swimming, you went back in to leave kisses ranging from her neck, down to her collarbone, and even further to the valley of her breasts. You felt the woman's hand take the back of your neck to have you take one of the mounds in your mouth.

The hand you had resting on the woman's waist moved to squeeze her thigh while you eased your strap out of her with a few more slow strokes. You released her flushed nipple with a small plop, your saliva slightly glistening in the light of the office space before you slid off of the couch to the floor.

Getting to a kneel, you keep your gaze on the eyes of the woman in front of you while reaching down by her ankles and fully removing her already ruined panties.

A glint sparks in your eyes as you stare at her still dripping pussy. You lick a stripe up her entrance before lightly sucking on her clit, causing the woman above you to jolt with a gasp.

The woman watches you go back to eating her out with a small crackling chuckle. "You love this, don't you?"

You only look up to meet her eyes, your mouth still working on her. You blink slowly before doubling your efforts on her pussy.

Her head falls back as she continues to buck into your mouth. "Yesyesyes, hah, just like that baby," She isn't especially loud, but the pleading laced in her voice is what drives you to your own brink.

You sink into the moans that come from her lips, soon turning into breathless whimpers as she brings your head impossibly closer to her heat. As ribbons of red made their way into your ears, you let her fog invade your mind and take over.

Everything else melted away into oblivion. You were older now as you watched the tattered dirt path become peaceful grasses, the people became well-rooted trees in full bloom. Armored cars and loaded rifles dissipated into mere accents of a pleasant scene. And at the center of it all, was the same woman as now. her velvet greens staring back at you with a warmth that could make the Niganda sun seem cold.

The redhead's grip tightened in your hair as her movements became more erratic against your face. You brought a hand up to play with her clit and work to bring her over the edge again.

Things were much simpler this way. No confusing flashes of people you don’t remember, no random jolts of phantom pain. You were sure to live in the moment, and your most recent memories didn’t hurt you to think about and when the details became fuzzy you almost missed them.

Your head rested on her inner thigh after you helped her ride out her high. Her finger rubbed just beneath your eye as your eyes locked, reveling in each other. "There you are, right here with me."

And it was all because of her. Wanda.

Wanda held your chin in her hand before she swiped her thumb over your bottom lip and tasted herself. Even with a fresh afterglow setting in, the fire in her eyes never abated. Wanda's power was always there.

That same energy that let her linger in your mind and relieve you of that lost momentum and gave you stability to latch for. You’d do anything to keep that. You’d do anything to keep Wanda.

As you helped her get her panties and skirt back on and make sure the back of her skirt was the front again, your mind was calm at a gentle hum, distant screams of the past going ignored as you helped fix up the couch of her associate’s office.

----------

Wanda’s mood had noticeably soured since you’d had your fill of each other. Her face had become a mask of neutrality with traces of agitation she just couldn’t seem to remove as she flipped through the papers settled on the desk. It was less decorated than her own; she’d hardly spared a glance at the few picture frames placed on top of the hardwood either. She didn’t want to see more than she’d had to for the day.

Standing up from the leather couch settled on the side of the room, you wandered around the rather plain space aimlessly, looking at the fully stacked bookshelves, more than half the titles going over your head with disinterest. Settling by where Wanda was seated, you faced the door as you heard incoming noise before the doorknob could even jostle.

Murky blue eyes startled as he caught sight of the two of you in his office. The older man wheeled himself further into his office before having the door shut behind him. Your eyes stayed on him, unwavering. “Wanda, to what do I owe this unexpected visit? I was called out of a very important-”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Better yet, who do you think you are, Xavier?” Wanda wasn’t interested in wasting time with false pleasantries.

“What exactly are you referring to, Wanda? I’ve done nothing but do as you’ve asked.” Wanda carefully kept her face blank as she observed the bald man.

“Keeping a wire on not only my vehicles, but my associates’ as well. Getting your grunts to try and tap my phone calls. They’ve gotten especially sloppy within the past few weeks, by the way. You should talk with Scott about that. All this to gain the favor of one Mr. William Stryker,” She placed the photos one of her skulkers took from their meeting a few nights ago on the table.

“Is that exact enough for you, Charles?”

You watch the man’s shoulders tense, a crease forming in his brow. You can clearly smell his nerves building while Wanda is still deathly calm. Her hands stay steepled in front of her face by her mouth, her eyes squint every now and then as she continues to observe the man.

“I've only given false information I assure you-”

“I know it is, because I basically spoon fed it to you and your men. You know nothing I don't want you to EVEN with you haphazardly bugging my house. Now, what I want to know is how you didn’t think I’d catch on. Do you think I’m stupid, Charles?” There is a noticeable edge in her voice now and the hairs on the back of your neck began to bristle, reacting to her aggravation.

Charles spoke up quickly “It was a part of the plan to have eyes in higher places, for the sake of all mutants, Wanda!”

The accent of her voice grew thick as her tone dropped lower. “Do not try to insult my intelligence, old man. You’ve done things here and there to try and undermine my headship when you think I won’t notice, but you will not pull this. Stryker is a sad little leech who wants to eliminate us all and has no qualms about being vocal about it. You want to try and make nice, fondle the balls of a man who wouldn’t bat an eye to exterminate mutants? You simply won’t be classified among us.”

As Wanda spoke those last few words, you watched as a familiar red aura surrounded Charles, her eyes glowing bright as Charles howled in pain as a pale blue aura rose out of his body where he sat. You almost thought Wanda was going to kill him then and there before his screams settled down.

Charles was breathing heavily, his form hunched over in his chair before his eyes widened with realization. “My powers…”

“You wanted to appease the mortal man, now you can live and die counted as one of them. Your bootlicking wife will be too once my people find her.”

“Hee-he-hick,” A feral giggle erupted from your mouth as you watched him carry on belligerently.

“You leave Moira out of this! we’ve done nothing but look out for you, Wanda! Your father would-”

“What did I say about insulting my intelligence? You and my father were at odds throughout his entire headship. You know nothing of what he would do nor what he would want.”

She slid more photos onto the table, the other man in them tickled something in your throat as recognition passed through you.

Wanda tapped on the man's face with her pointer finger, "This man. Tell me where he is."

Charles peered over to look at the photo, his nerves a bit all over the place. "Pierce? I've no idea Wanda, he's been gone for days now. You have to believe me,"

Wanda tutted her tongue as she brought her hands back in front of her. "I don't have to do anything, but I do believe you. Unfortunately for you that makes you completely useless to me, Charles." She pursed her lips in a faux pout.

You could almost see the man shaking in his chair as he went on indignantly. You wound up tuning him out as he kept going on about loyalty and nonsense.

‘Do I kill him now?’

Wanda reached back for your neck, running her thumb over the scarring over your throat. “We’re just about done here, but Charles can see himself out, I believe.”

Charles couldn’t even properly understand what was going on right away because, one: He was in the middle of explaining how the original members of the syndicate needed to stick together, and two: He can’t read minds anymore. I mean, what’s he going to do now?

“You can go see if the college across town has any openings, but you’ve been relieved of your position with Maximoff Unlimited as well as the Scarlet Syndicate which will be vacant as of today, effective immediately. Now you can roll yourself out of this office, or I can have Y/n here escort you out. They don't seem too keen on being delicate with you.”

You tilted your head as a choppy rumble passed your lips. The prospect of handling the man yourself was very appealing right now. Charles likely recognized this as he made his way to the door himself. Red mist opens the door for him.

“Smart choice. So you do have some sense left. Oh, and Charles?”

The man stopped in the doorway, but didn't turn to look at Wanda.

“The next time you try to throw me or my company under the bus, remember who put you in that wheelchair.”

#marvel #marvel one shots #the bigger picture #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #???wanda maximoff #hyena!mutant!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x yn #scarlet syndicate au #jc inkworks #ink.wanda #ib-jc.

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siren-and-faies-writing · 1 year

Text

Enraptured

Pairing: Homelander x reader

Summary: You’re the newest member of The Seven and Homelander takes an avid interest in you and your powers.

Type: Just a self indulgent thought I had about his superhuman hearing and smell

Disclaimer: Suggestive(?) Homelander is his own disclaimer LOL

You stared out the window of the high-rise building. New York City at night was a breathtaking view from the 99th floor of the Vought Tower and Ashley’s voice barely reached your ears as she spoke.

“You are JUST what this place needs! I mean hand picked by Starlight herself, the people are gonna love you!” She said excitedly before reaching a set of double doors. “Here’s your apartment, get some rest. Big day tomorrow meeting the rest of the team!

You just smiled as the ginger women rushed off without so much as looking back. Entering the apartment, your still boxed belongings sat neatly stacked around the living area and you hummed quietly to yourself as you got to work unpacking. A reposeful little tune your mother had taught you as a child, something that always helped calm your nerves. Meeting the seven was sure to be quite an experience.

—

Homelander had just finished an interview, the only thing he seemed to do these days in his now mundane life- interview after interview about the same old thing… Edgar, Madelyn, Stormfront. Maybe a stroll around the city’s brisk night sky would help clear his troubled mind.

The supe flew about aimlessly, but when feelings he had been pushing aside demanded his attention, he suddenly felt like an overflowing wine glass that threatened to shatter at any moment. He was lost to his own thoughts, his anguish on the brink of consumption- until, in a blissful instant… it all stopped. Homelander’s mind hushed, an idyllic sensation washing over him, like a cloudy night sky resting peacefully over gently crashing waves.

That’s what it sounded like, the noise that had broke through his dejection. What was it? Without so much as a second though he bolted in the direction of the sound and was surprised when he ended up at Vought. Were they trying out some new auditory device? He wondered before entering the building, heedlessly pursuing the melody up to the 99th floor in his rapturous state; only stopping when the tips of his boots hit the hard surface of a door.

Here it is, just on the other side. Homelander didn’t even bother using his x-ray vision to peer inside, or knock for that matter. The doors slammed open as the supe let himself in, expecting a lab full of busying scientist, but was instead met with a women, shocked, staring back at him. “The Homelander… what a pleasure to finally meet you! Let me just say what an honor it is to be invited into the seven.”

The man cleared his throat with a nod. “The pleasure is uh… all mine.” He had trouble finding his words, unsure of what was going on but deciding to just play it cool. “I like to check up on new members before the official introductions. See what they’re all about- a test if you will.” He finally found his composure, neatly resting his hands behind his back. “Care to give me a little show?” He urged with a wave of his hand.

“Oh um… right. O-of course!” You said nervously, were you really about to use your powers on The Homelander!? You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath which came out shaky as you exhaled- despite your best efforts; a sound he took delight in. He cocked his head to the side, an amused smirk tugging at his lips, you just smiled in return as you made your way to rest against the bar counter. Making sure your eyes never left the older supe. He caught a sweet scent as you passed, Homelander lowered his head for a moment, nose twitching at the aroma, it made his head feel hazy. What the hell was going on with him?

His senses felt overwhelmed, and when he raised his head to recapturing your gaze- that was it. Homelander lunged towards you, like a predator pouncing on it’s prey. Gloved hands slammed against the counter top on either side of you, and you gasped quietly, but didn’t dare move. The man towered over you and you could feel his presence mere inches away- it took all your courage just to peer up at him. The expression you wore was captivating, doe like eyes staring back at him through long lashes, it ensnared him.

The gap between the two of you felt excruciatingly empty- so he filled it. Homelanders forehead met yours as he drank in your scent, his body pressed flush against you. It was only when a hand pressed gently to his chest that the man regained his own scenes.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go that far, it was only a little bit I-I don’t know what happen I-” You stammered. “My powers… I can release pheromones that trigger a social response, or induce attraction, or sleep, or - ”

Induce attraction huh? So that was it. That’s why his mind felt hazy, that’s why his body moved on its own— but then why hasn’t he moved away from you? Surely you wasn’t using your powers on him anymore.

“B-But I only secreted a bit, I don’t know why it was so strong this time.”

Homelander knew why. It wasn’t you, it was him, his extraordinary sense of smell. His own powers worked against him, something he definitely wasn’t use to. But of course, he couldn’t tell you that. So what was he to say? That your powers had control over him?

No.

He finally stepped away from you, the lose of your presence leaving an empty pit in his chest. “Wow.” He breathed “Those are some powers huh? But hey! Don’t beat yourself up over what just happened.”

“Maybe- ” Homelander leaned down, you could practically hear the toothy grin he wore as he spoke. “It wasn’t all you.” He blew onto your ear, and a surprised squeak escaped your lungs; a treat to his ears.

“But I trust this stays between us hm?” A demand rather than a question. “Can’t have people thinking I play favorites now can I?” He sauntered over to the door, and only got halfway through before glancing back at your perplexed expression.

“We’ll get someone to fix that counter- ” You glanced back, pieces of marble crumbling to the floor. “Can’t wait to properly meet you tomorrow.” He winked before exiting your apartment.

—

Back in his penthouse, Homelander rest his head back against the couch, still feeling a bit dazed.

If pheromones were her power, then what was that melody he heard before?

— Siren

Haven’t written anything in forever but “The Boy” made me do it. I’m back and I have more Homelander ideas floating around 👀

Pt.2 anyone? 🤔

#I’ve been obsessed with the boys #I’ve binged it all week #I love this awful man #and daddy butcher #homelander x reader #homelander x you #the boys #the boys homelander #homelander the boys #homelander #billy butcher #butcher the boys

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mintmatcha · 2 years

Text

Despite everything, Nanami still remembers your number.

The blood loss has his fingers quivering as he taps the keyboard, but it also gives him clarity. He sits, nestled in an alley away from the danger, one arm crooked around himself to compress the cut he refuses to look at, and the line rings. Once, twice, three times-

"Hello?" your voice is crackled with static. The sound of it, so familiar and yet so strange, hurts almost as much as the actual wound in his side. He sucks in a breath at the impact, unsure. Maybe the concussion made him stupid, maybe the fear made him nostalgic-

"Hellooo?" you repeat, "I hear you breathing, who is this-"

"It's me."

"Kento."

The fact you recognize his voice from two simple words fills him with a sickening pang of longing, fills him with the dread and love and a twisted, insane concoctionof emotions he can't quite place. His eyes close as he focuses on the sound our your voice and tries to picture how your lips curl to form each word. He used to be able to picture it perfectly, but now the memory is hazy. He can barely hold on to the image of your smile, the turn of your lips.

Down the way, out of eyesight, Gojo laughs. Something crashes. The day gets blurrier and his shirt gets wetter.

"I- I thought we agreed you wouldn't call anymore." you whisper, no anger in your voice.

"I know. I know." Nanami replies, the hint of a laugh in his voice, "I just- work has been killing me, darling."

You'd hate the double meaning in that statement, if you could ever understand it. The sorcerer world was, and forever will be, out of your grasp, and he was always thankful for that.

Until it was the reason he had to go.

"I'm not your darling anymore. We've talked about this."

"I know, I'm sorry. Forgive me." he pulls himself back to reality. His side throbs for attention, the dull ache growing sharp. "I- I needed to hear your voice. I'm sorry."

"Have you been drinking?" Worry laces every word, right under the annoyance, "You're slurring your words."

"No." The accusation stings. "I don't do that anymore, I told you."

Your silence rings through his skull. You don't believe him and he doesn't blame you. It wouldn't be the first time he's dialed you after a couple drinks too many.

"I just-" Nanami's voice cracks. A strange, hot dryness is building in his throat, eating away at the corners of his mind. "I wanted to say I'm sorry about how things ended. Every day I wish I could explain to you why I had to leave- what I'm really doing out here, but- you know those years, they were- they were so much to me- maybe everything, I wouldn't have left if I didn't have to-"

A gurgling sound on your side of the linecuts him off, followed by the short, high sounds of a baby right before it cries. It's a sharp reminder that time has passed, that you have done the one thing Nanami could never bring himself to do:

Move on.

"Sh, sh, honey." Your voice is slightly farther away now, cooing to your child. He can't help but wonder what it looks like- if it has your eyes, if it will one day have your laugh.

He's seen the father in your Facebook pictures; a nice, normal man, Nanami resents him more than anything.

Does he know what he has? Does he cherish you like you deserve? Does he kiss your cheek every night after work like Nanami used to?

"You know what?" Nanami grunts as he forces himself to sit up. The movement makes his head spin and stars flicker across his vision. "I lied. I have been drinking, I'm sorry. Forget I called."

"Kento-" your voice is suddenly close again, "What's wrong?"

"Thanks for everything, darling."

"Please don't hang up-"

He hits end.

The fighting behind Nanami has come to an end. He doubts he'll actually die this time, his comrades will find him any minute now, but... if he did, he'd be okay with those being his last words.

#content.cold

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mythicalmyles · 2 years

Note

hi there !! i love your fics! i was wondering if i could request BEN w femboy streamer? humiliation + abduction maybe? also i’d die to give that ghost head 💔

Thank you so much! I hope ur having a great day and ur wish is my command hope u enjoy:>

(Name) let out a loud sigh as he closed off his stream, rubbing his eyes. He blinked and looked at the time, four am. He shook his head and let out a small laugh, he had to stop streaming so late. Lately he had been getting a weird chatter in his streams, he tried to ignore the overly sexual things they said but he couldn’t deny the pang of want he felt for it.

(Name) was too tired to even take off his hoodie and thigh highs as he made his way to his bed, flopping face first onto the sheets. He was so tired he didn’t even notice his TV turning on.

————

(Name) woke up surprised as his arms were forced above his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at his wrists trying to figure out why wires were around him. A loud static filled the room as his head snapped to the TV, a figure came out of his TV along with two more wires.

(Name) had no chance of fighting back against them, the figure that had came out was all the more horrifying. He looked like a nightmare form of link, (Name) tried to not shake as it made its way to him.

“Helloo.” It sang in a glitchy voice, (Name) whimpered and pushed himself further into his bed. He closed his eyes tight and mentally began praying. Ben’s hands were quick to pull up his jumper, vicious grin on his cheeks.

“Gonna fill you up with my cum, bet you’d love that you whore. Ive seen the way you react to my messages.” (Names) eyes doubled, pulse speeding up. “You..” He trailed off and Ben let out a loud laugh. “Me!” He cheered, eyes lighting up at the recognition.

Bens fingers were quick to start teasing and playing with (Names) nipples, relishing in his squirms and moans. “So sensitive.” He showed off his sharp teeth, tongue darting out to lick up his lips.

(Name) couldn’t do much with the wires holding him down. “Gonna breed you up like a bitch, look at you, barley a man.” He chuckled, (Name) would violently deny that his cock was currently hard and leaking precum in his boxers.

“Shu-shut up.” He weakly muttered, eyes hazy and blown. Ben just chuckled, mouth coming to suck on one of his nipples. He circled his tongue around the bud until it was hard and quickly gave the same treatment to the other as (Name) squirmed and whined.

Ben moved to suck some bruises down (Names) stomach, stopping at his v-line to suck bruises into the flesh. (Name) bucked his hips letting out a moan as he threw his head back against his pillow. Stars danced in his vision as Ben flipped him over, arms crossed and legs spread as his face was buried into the mattress.

“I bet you’ll love this.” (Name) froze as a tongue lapped at his hole, Ben running his tongue all over his flesh. (Names) moans got more high pitched as Ben slurped on his hole, pushing his tongue in deep.

(Name) was completely at Ben’s mercy as he tongue fucked him. (Names) voice choked and he arched back into Ben’s tongue, tears of pleasure dripping down his cheeks. He let out a wail when Ben pulled away. “I barley even had to do any thing and look at how much of a slut you’ve turned into.” Ben was smug as he spoke, pushing two fingers into (Names) wet hole.

As much as it burned it felt so good, Ben’s fingers hitting deeper then his own could ever hope to. “Ben’s the name.” (Name) let out a moan as he repeated Ben’s name.

“Fuck.” Ben muttered quickly pulling his fingers out, pressing his cock against (Names) hole. “Gonna fuck this pretty boy pussy and leave it dripping.” He quickly slid deep into (Name), the latter gasping and letting out a broken cry.

It didn’t take long before (Name) was a sobbing mess, head buried into his pillow teeth clenched on the fabric as Ben raw dogged him. Ben’s hand gripped his cock and stroked him in time with his thrusts, (Names) head threw back as Ben leaned down. He pressed their body’s tightly together before moving back up, (Name) trapped by his arm being dragged with him.

Ben didn’t think (Name) could get any louder, he growled when (Name) began fucking back onto his thrusts. His mind ran rampant as he fucked (Names) brains out, relishing in every cry that left the boy.

“Gonna keep you locked up forever. Be my pretty little toy that rides my cock like a good boy.” (Name) whined, the idea kicking him over the edge. He came hard before flopping back onto Ben, Ben’s arms being the only thing keeping him upright.

(Names) body jolted with every thrust, mind floating away on cloud nine. Ben’s thrusts got sloppier and he could feel his end coming near. “Gonna fill you up so much. So much.” Ben gripped his hips and slammed him down for the final time, cum spilling deep as he rode out his high.

He flopped down pinning (Name) to the bed, wires slowly leaving. “So fucking pretty.” Ben muttered stroking the unconscious mans hair.

#ben drowned x male!reader #ben drowned x male reader #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned x malereader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x male reader #creepy pasta x reader #creepypasta x male!reader #creepy pasta x male!reader #marble hornets x male reader #myfic

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yrsdf · 1 year

Text

The cold wind cuts across his face. His vision is blurred from the condensation that forms over his breath. He pulls the scarf tighter around his neck and adjusts the goggles on his head that lay above his mask. He squints at the dark, snowy landscape and begins walking towards his girlfriend, eyes focused on the ground for any landmines or traps that might have been left by the enemy. His left hand is holding the radio antenna, listening for any messages from the other squads, while the right pulls up his sleeve revealing the wristwatch that’s been strapped around it for the last month. He isn’t paying attention and you trail off ahead of him walking beside an abandoned house, your gun in hand as a loud boom is heard, his eyes look forward and all he sees is a large thick cloud of smoke, and his girlfriend not in sight.

Konig makes it to the house, and the smell of smoke and destruction fills his nostrils and burns his throat.

"Damn it, where are you?"

He coughs, and his vision still hasn't fully corrected itself, making it even harder to make a clear path toward his goal.

Frustration and fear begin to build as his hands grasp at anything, desperately searching.

he hears her, the sound of gasping and small sobbing

Konig scrambles toward the sound. He pushes the door open, and staggers as he pushes his way through the debris littering the floor. The smoke forces him to double over, and he coughs and wipes away tears from his eyes.

As his vision starts to return, he reaches his hand out blindly, and finally comes in contact with her.

"___! I'm here."

He falls to his knees beside her, gently feeling her face, then moving to her side, searching for more wounds or anything to stem the blood.

"my love… darling!?"

Konig takes her hand and whispers to her. His vision is still hazy and his ears ring with the sound of the explosion, and tears well in his eyes. The smoke makes it hard to breathe and his vision becomes blurred as he tries to clear away the tears.

He leans close to her, gently touching her cheeks and the sides of her face.

"___, you can't leave me,"

he says, his voice wavering.

she can’t really make out his face, she shakily places a bloody hand on his face, gently rubbing his cheek until her arms begin to go weak, her hand falls limp against his leg, her gasps turn into smaller shallower breathing

Her hand is cold and frail against his warm face, and tears stream down his cheeks.

Konig holds her close, wrapping his arms about her as she lies in his lap.

"Please, _____. Please hold on,"

he pleads.

He buries his face between his arms, and weeps.

"This can't be happening."

A feeling of despair and emptiness fills his chest.

"Please."

she leans her head against his shoulder as her breathing comes to an end, her small body limp against his, her heart beat slow and almost gone

"No..No,No,NoNoNo.."

he slurs as his voice breaks.

"Please, ____."

Konig holds her close, and for a moment closes his eyes. His hands gently cup her head, and he kisses her hair.

"What am I going to do without you, ___?"

he whispers.

"How will I live with myself for not keeping you safe? What was I supposed to do?"

His voice wavers, and he trembles.

___________________

back to the base

As Konig returns to base, he passes by the lifeless bodies of his fellow soldiers, the sight causing him to stumble.

Once he gets inside, he collapses to the floor as exhaustion and anguish wash over him. A sudden sense of guilt consumes him, and he presses his hands into his temples and presses hard in an effort to hold back an explosion of tears within him.

He lays there for a long time, feeling each breath like a burning sensation in his lungs.

"It's not fair-,"

he says, and his voice breaks as he buries his head into his knees.

___________

years pass

The years have changed everything. Konig once saw himself as a boy scout, a well-mannered, level-headed, and calm individual. But now he feels a great emptiness where his heart used to be. Instead, it was replaced with a cold, calculating attitude where he views all others as either useful or worthless.

He is filled with a constant anger, and a desire for vengeance, for redemption. He sees all those around him as weak and soft and he despises their apathy. He pushes himself harder than ever before, in combat training, in his career, in everything.

Konig lies in his bed, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. He can feel a warmth against him as if someone is lying with him, and he smiles.

-___? Is that you?-

he thinks, and turns over to search for her.

#könig x reader #könig fanfiction #könig #cod mw2 #mw2 2022 #konig mw2 #yrsdf fic

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highpriestoffeedism · 18 days

Text

The First Sermon

Harken well unto me, my Children of Abundance, and I will tell thee the Way of the Feeder…

It begins with an athlete. It must. You cannot do this with someone who is unfit, physically or genetically. What is the perfect block of granite to carve your Statue of David? She is fit. She enjoys activity. She enjoys life. That last part is key. She will not just make a loyal feedee, but she has the potential to truly embrace her nature as a woman. That is the key. A broken or maladjusted woman who hates life will hate the process. She will fight and struggle against instincts that an athlete trusts.

It begins with her first grazing at the buffet. Her appetite will increase. Her libido will fluctuate with her hunger pains. Her body will undergo a second puberty as she fills out in all directions with fat, the metamorphosis from girlishness to womanhood. In this state, you may begin the feeding and caring process. Continually encourage her and take care of her needs. Reassure her that her desires for infinite laziness and endless food are inevitable and natural. Fuck her like it’s her last fuck, and yours, and fill her up from both ends. Double her portions. Feed her until she complains about it, then tell her she’s never looked better and offer her more. Rub her feet. Rub her belly. Massage every square inch with lotions, oils, and restorative powders. It’s all part of the process. This is a journey for both of you. Enjoy it.

Some appetites come naturally. Others are taught. For the man, this feeding and doting is a natural appetite. It is part of your instincts. For the woman, it is a flavor she did not know she craved until you gave her a little taste of it. The good girl takes well to it. Teach her the appetites of the blobgirl. Show her the pleasures of being your blobgirl.

As she swells larger and larger, softer and softer, heavier and heavier, make sure you accommodate your artwork with appropriate accoutrements. As she grows out of her old clothes, encourage her to switch to sundresses, baby tees, and sweat pants, all easy access clothing items that also permit unchecked expansion and painless growth. Discourage the use of underwear for easier access. To avoid bruises, abrasions, and sores, oil or lotion will need to be rubbed into her skin, especially her thighs, stomach, and boobs. Volunteer your services, and enjoy the view. Spoil her enormous belly with kisses. What you lose in calories, you gain in watching her find them again.

Convince her to stay at home and move as little possible. When she insists on waddling somewhere, go with her. Follow behind and appreciate the view. Offer her a helpful shoulder to lean on when she starts to pant and wheeze. Tell her how much you love her when she finally plops back down on the toilet. Bend her over the bathroom sink and prove it. Enjoy the greatest mark of progress with your art: being able to see and caress the pale soft bottom of her belly from behind as she bends over and presents herself, mewling for your attention. The visible-from-behind underbelly is a milestone. A beautiful soft vision poking out from behind the full moon. Indulge in some astronomy. Stargazing is a gentleman’s hobby.

By the time she has completely accepted her life's purpose as your feedee, the whole system is largely self-sustaining. You are now merely along for the ride, helping to maintain the habits and behaviors you have set in motion. Years and years of gorging and napping, lazing and grazing, combined with your personal attention and constant enabling, has at least quadrupled the capacity of her stomach, and utterly ruined her ability to know when she is full. Far from feeling pain when she is pushing her limits at dinner time, now her only way of knowing she has overeaten is the drunken and slightly hazy pleasure that being stuffed to the gills brings her. She no longer needs encouragement to eat herself to the point of needing to be helped out of her chair. Stuffed to bursting is her new normal. She can no longer discern the difference between too much and just enough. There is no such thing as too much. She is merely a vacuum for any food and every food all of the time. Obesity and yummy pleasures and idle luxuriousness, inexorably linked to happiness, contentment, and sexual ecstasy.

Her brain, having marinated for years in fast food, your cum, and the pleasures that indulgence in food can bring, will have irreversibly changed for the better. She cannot go back to her former self. She does not want to. She would refuse to do so even if she could. Her incredibly obese and beautiful body brings her happiness. Being fattened up and taken care of has fulfilled her basest and most instinctive needs as a woman. Your unswerving lust and complete focus on her has brought her contentment. She no longer needs the validation of the herd. She seeks validation from you, her feeder. You alone are the arbiter of her sexuality. Her gain ends only when you say it ends, which is never. Her body is what you have made of it, quite literally. Her beauty is in the eye of the artist who brought his vision into reality.

And this is the true secret of the art of feeding. Blobgirls are not born. They are MADE. The journey is just as pleasurable and desirable as the destination. There is no better lardpile than the lardpile who was once an athlete. Overflowing oceans of rolls upon rolls upon rolls, coupled with an athlete's habits pertaining to staying competitive. They will serve her well as she learns the rewards of indulging in the instincts and cravings of a true glutton. She does not need to be taught these appetites. They merely need to be awoken within her.

Feed her until she cannot move. Fuck her until she forgets her own name. Fill her to bursting, and then burst inside her. She is a woman, and she will only ever know true happiness when she is infinitely obese and immobile, stuffed from both ends with food and cock. Her instincts compel her to devour everything in sight, just as your instincts compel you to feed her more. A perfect match.

Be warned: feedism is not just a kink, no mere indulgence for lesser men or for unworthy fatties. To be a feeder is to be called to something greater, something higher, nay, something far heavier than oneself. It is a holy rite meant only for the chosen few to pursue and to achieve. If and when I see you on the street with your prized possession waddling by your side, I will give you the approving nod, knowing that you have achieved pure bliss in this life and the next.

Go in peace and with pieces of cake. In the name of the Fatter, and the Fun, and the Holy Brosnan. Amen.

#extremely obese #obese feedee #sexy obese #obesity #obese women #obese piggy #obese gainer #obese belly #feedee belly #looking for a feeder #feedee piggy #feedee feeder #feeding kink #stuffed feedee #ssbbw feedee #immobile #gluttonous piggy

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lipglossanon · 3 months

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Hey lip, do you have any tips on how to start writing other than just starting? Like I have ideas and all but when I try to write them down I feel like I don't know the words that I want to describe the scenes and all, and thanks for sharing you work!

Yello anon! 👋

Hmm 🤔 I can try my best to explain so if it’s confusing or you need clarification just let me know!

So how I approach writing is a lot like daydreaming. I’m not a writer who can storyboard too far in advance cause that’s stifling to my creativity. Kinda like boxing myself in a corner.

With that said, I have this hazy picture of moments that I want to write down. So I start typing what I’m thinking to get started, like:

“You woke up late, a splitting headache making your vision double and stomach roil with nausea.”

Then, I let my mind wander and my hands try to keep up. I use the visual in my brain as a guiding point on how I want the scene to look like/go.

“You squint at the bright light seeping in from your blinds, dust motes drift into your line of vision as you slowly sit up in bed. Glancing at your watch, you see it’s still early morning. You slowly climb out of bed and make your way to the dresser, pulling out some loungewear to change into after your shower.”

Now I’m someone who doesn’t spend too much time on details in certain areas. Mainly cause I’m writing from a reader POV so I try to keep vague so people can plug in their own things. For me personally, unless it’s necessary in the story, I leave it pretty bare bones. Like who cares if the reader wears Nike shoes and Ray ban sunglasses? Or that Leon drives a 1998 Jeep Grand Cherokee and wears Dior suits?

Sometimes those details are so jarring it will pull me out of the story cause it’s like why are these things specifically brought to my attention? Less is more in a lot of cases.

And then I also try to make up for it in other ways, like describing feelings or smutty scenarios taking place. You kinda have to just find your own voice when writing and that may take time and lots of drafts until you feel like you’ve hit the sweet spot.

And all else fails, just write what’s in your brain and then go back and clean it up. I’ve done that a bunch too; just sort of a stream of consciousness writing that I’ll go back and pick apart until I have what I like.

As cliche as it sounds, there’s no right way to writing (it would be so much easier if there was! 🤣).

I have a hard time with finding the right words and phrases all the time which leads me to misusing them cause I have the wrong meaning for it. So usually just make a note to go back and rework it til I have what I like. And sometimes the words I pick are what I end up using anyway cause it gets what I want across.

Here’s an example of a WIP I started today:

“Blinking back the sudden tears, you reach over and grab her hand giving it a squeeze.

Love from the eldest daughter is rife (DIFFERENT WORD??) with resentment.”

So all I can truly say is take a chance on yourself; read books and fics of things you like, listen to music and watch movies for inspiration. You’ll get the hang of it and come into your own! 💜 I’m rooting for ya!

#ask box #anon #lipglossanon #lipglossanswers #lipgloss talks writing #writing tips?

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iprobablyshipit91 · 1 year

Text

Words Unsaid

Part 8

Genre: romance / mutual pining / fluff / angst / royal au

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Pain, panic attacks, reliving past trauma (attempted assault). Please only read if you’re of age and comfortable.

Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Series Masterlist || SPN Masterlist

Previous || Next

I’m so, so sorry this has took so long! Just a bad combination of RL and writers block. It’s a longer chapter though so hopefully that makes up for the wait. Big thanks to @spnexploration for encouraging me to write and for beta reading for me 💕

"Pity, I really did want you to enjoy this you know." And then he's squeezing your cheeks together hard pressing the vial between your lips and tipping the liquid in. You try to spit it out but his hand is quickly over your mouth, forcing you to swallow. A tear runs down your cheek as you feel your limbs suddenly feel like they’re moving through treacle, your ability to struggle getting harder and harder. You feel Lucifers weight finally lift off you but your body is too full of lead to make another escape. To your horror you hear the rustling of your skirts and scream as loudly as you can. You vision starts to go blurry again, a fog filling your brain as your mind shuts down. The last thing you feel is cold hands on your legs before the darkness takes you under.

You gradually come around to the deep ringing of bells, slow and steady. You realise after a moment it’s the warnings bells that sit on the walls next to the gates of the castle, their somber toll letting the kingdom know there is danger. You can hear people around you shouting, screaming and crying yet your body won’t respond to even the simplest of movements. Your eyes feel too heavy to open.

You suddenly wonder if the commotion is for you.

The lethargy slowly seeps away and leaves room for panic to set in. You can feel hands holding you and you double your efforts to move, try to do anything at all, but you can't. You’re stuck, helpless in the darkness. Your heart slams in your chest as suddenly voices become clearer around you.

"Cas, is she-" the quivering voice of your mother falters. You feel soft hands push back your hair with a familiarity and you calm fractionally knowing that you are no longer in the orchards and your mother is here.

"That rash…” fingers ghost along your neck and you cringe inwardly. “She's been poisoned by hemlock I believe. It paralyses the victim before-" The doctor stops abruptly and you can hear your mother swallow hard. Your panic grows.

"Before what?" It's a broken whisper, and you feel your heart shatter as her hot, wet tears land on your arm. The silence tells you all you need to know.

“Before what, Cas?” Your mother demands, stronger now and channeling every bit of the Queen she is.

“I can make an antidote and bring her back.” You notice the doctor still avoids the question but there is determination and reassurance in his voice. “Please stay and talk to her, the paralysis won’t extend to her mind. She will still be very aware of all that is going on around her.“

His footsteps hurry away and then you feel soft lips press against your forehead, hair ticking your cheek and nose. Your mother's voice drifts over you, soft, gentle and calming.

"Don't leave me, my darling. Stay strong and hold on for us."

You’re not sure how long you lay there for, listening to your mothers whispers of reassurance and love. Your mind is hazy at best with your thoughts drifting in and out. The only constants are your mothers hand holding your fingers tightly and the steady tolling of the bells. At some point you think you hear some yelling and shouting but it’s too far away to properly understand.

A door slams open and footsteps hurry to your side. Castiel exchanges a quick word with your mother before you feel his hands prising your jaw open. You sense his hesitation before he says softly. "I'm so sorry, Princess."

A thick, vile tasting substance slides into your mouth and down your throat leaving you feeling suffocated until it slips down your throat. A few moments pass, the thudding of your heart loud in your ears and then suddenly your eyes are flying open and you’re coughing, grimacing as the remnants of the antidote are swallowed. You look at your mother, her eyes red rimmed and wide as relief floods her face, then to Cas, whose face is grim. You feel a strange tingling throughout your limbs.

"What-" you begin but cut off in a groan when pain rips through your body, causing you to arch on the bed. It continues to intensify and you scream, feeling like fire is licking at your body, muscles burning. You thrash around on the bed, trying to wrench away from it as you beg for the pain to stop.

"What is happening?" Your mother shouts, holding you down as you claw at your body, desperately needing the pain to go away. You feel like your whole body is aflame, succumbing to the hot inferno taking over.

You scream and scream, until your voice cracks and breaks. The door to your room slams open and you see a pair of broken green eyes and then nothing at all.

When you finally wake again, the room is dark. You blink a few times as you come around and take stock. Your room is blissfully quiet, and you realise the bells have finally stopped. There is movement outside your door though and panic starts to take hold until your recognise the rhythmic marching of the guards. Your throat is sore and your body feels like it's been trampled on by a herd of horses multiple times but the blinding hot pain you felt before has dulled into an ache throbbing deep in your bones. Your mind stumbles, struggling to remember how you got here in the first place.

Lucifer.

The Orchards.

Oh God, Dean.

You look around, scanning the bodies huddled around your bed asleep. Your mother and father are tucked against one another to your left, sharing the chaise lounge that was usually placed beneath your window. Cas is reclined in your favourite arm chair, snoring lightly. Bobby sits on your desk chair at the foot of the bed, arms folded and chin on his chest, though you notice his hand is still wrapped around his sword. Sam is on the floor, head tilted back against your mattress. Finally, your eyes land on Dean, body bent forward, forehead resting on the mattress next to your hand.

Your fingers inch towards him, wincing in pain at even the tiniest movement. You sigh in relief when your fingers tangle in his hair.

You turn on your side with a groan and curl your body around his. At your movement Sam turns and smiles at you. His lips start to move but before you can try and make anything out, unconsciousness wraps around you like a warm blanket and you’re asleep again.

A hand touches your face and panic jolts your body upwards. You immediately grimace.

"Easy, Princess." Castiel’s voice is low and soothing as he holds his hands up in front of you in supplication, allowing you to relax fractionally, eyes darting around the room as your heart beats quickly in your chest. Your bedroom is bathed in bright sunlight and you let out a shuddering breath, wide eyes falling back to the doctor.

He helps adjust your cushions so you’re sat comfortably on the bed, movements careful and deliberate, eyes constantly searching yours for permission. A frown mars his face and you can't help but notice how much older he suddenly seems. He sighs and sits heavily in the chair next to the bed, the one you vaguely remember seeing him in when you woke last night. Your eyes dance around the room before landing back on Castiel and he gives you a small, sad smile.

"Don’t worry, they aren’t far at all" He inclines his head to your bedroom door and his smile turns much more genuine. "I just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed when you first woke up. Now, how are you feeling?"

You shift and wince sharply. You want to tell him your body feels like it’s been trampled on continuously by a herd of horses and your throat feels like you’ve swallowed broken glass but you don’t think you’ll be able to manage all that.

"Hurts." You croak, your throat sore and scratchy, making your words barely intelligible. You put your hand to your throat and wince again and Castiels face contorts back into a frown.

"Don't talk." He says and pulls himself from your chair. He reaches into his large bag at the foot of your bed, pulling out different herbs and small bottles and you watch in fascination as he carefully mixes them together in a large cup.

He glances up at you. "This should soothe your throat and make it easier to speak, although I suggest you do so as little as possible. It should also ease your pain a bit." He hands the drink over to you and you raise your eyebrows at him and give him a look, remembering very well what happened the last time you swallowed something Castiel had made. He understands your expression, smiling with embarrassment. "Don't worry, Princess. This one has no side-effects."

You take a tentative sip, the cool liquid tasting strange, but the soothing affect on your throat is almost immediate. You drink from the cup greedily, the ache in your limbs lessening with each gulp. Cas watches you carefully as you relax back into the pillows of your bed and hand him the cup back.

"I dressed your wounds while you were sleeping." He says quietly. You suddenly notice a thick white bandage on your outstretched arm and everything comes rushing back at once. Lucifer and the orchards. Fighting him off, being forced to drink that awful concoction, pain, and then darkness. You feel your entire body locking down, heart pounding in your chest and Cas swallows hard.

You remember the feeling of his hands on your legs, and cold and clammy and wrong. Lucifer's intentions had been clear in the orchard.

"Did he… " Your throat closes up and you inhale sharply, feeling borderline hysterical. You gasp for breath and Cas looks panicked. You can't remember though, everything is just a blur. You need to know if he touched you, if he ruined you. Cas shakes his head hard.

"No." His blue eyes darken and he shakes his head again. "No, Princess, he did not. Dean found you just as the poison took affect."

You sigh audibly, wiping the tears that have built in your eyes, embarrassed at how quickly you became frantic. Your heart drops to your stomach though as you think of Dean and what he must have seen. What had he thought? You bite your lip and stare hard at your bed sheets.

"I refuse to use the word minor, but most of your injuries are cuts and bruises that will heal just fine. You do have two broken ribs however." You press lightly over your torso and feel a thick bandage wrapped around your stomach, under your nightgown. You suddenly feel uncomfortable, a frown forming on your face.

"Your mother." He whispers kindly and you breath a sigh of relief. You trust Castiel with your life but the idea of anyone touching you right now makes your skin crawl.

"I’m afraid the poison, however, will leave its mark on you." You flinch as you remember the blinding pain. Cas’ eyes flit down your neck and you follow the path with your fingers, feeling a web of raised skin there, almost like an intricate lace pattern. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he nods sadly.

"That will be permanent, I'm afraid. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you were very lucky. We almost lost you."

You want to snort. Lucky. Nothing about the way you feel right now feels lucky. There’s suddenly a light scuffling against the wood of your door and you can hear muted voices before it falls silent again. You look back to Cas.

"They're all quite impatient to make sure you're alright. Shall I let them in?"

Your chest tightens as you can’t even contemplate how you’re going to explain all of this to your parents. It was your own stupid fault for slipping off to the orchards alone after all. You’re desperate to see familiar faces though, one especially. You nod and Cas shuffles over to the door, and pokes his head out.

There's a whispered conversation with whoever is on the other side and then your father is striding through the door with your mother close behind. Bobby also slips in before Cas slides out into the hallway and shuts the door behind him.

Your heart drops.

No Dean.

You idly wonder if you imagined him last night. You don’t have time to dwell however as your father comes to a stop in front of you, his hands clenched at his side and a distraught look on his face. Your heart breaks as his gaze softens and he falls to his knees by your side.

"Y/n." He whispers. His hands hover awkwardly over you and you realise with a turn of your stomach that he's afraid to touch you. Tears fill your eyes as you reach determinedly for his much larger hand.

"Hey, Dad." You whisper back and he gives you a weak smile as his fingers wrap around yours and he presses a kiss to your hand. The contact makes you uneasy, but you push it away. Your mother sighs heavily as she takes the chair Cas abandoned. You notice her eyes are puffy and glistening with tears so you reach for her hand too. A broken sob leaves her lips as her fingers twist with yours. The three of you sit like that for a moment, huddled together, taking one another in.

Your father moves back first and you notice he looks exhausted. He keeps his fingers wrapped around yours as he scrubs his other hand roughly down his face. He sighs heavily, carefully wiping a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"Can you tell us what happened?"

You inhale sharply. It’s the question you’ve dreaded. You don’t want to speak of it, don’t want to even think of it ever again.

"It helps." Bobbys voice is gruff but his eyes are soft as you turn to meet his gaze and he shrugs. "When something terrible happens to you, it helps to get it out of your head. I promise you that."

You know he speaks from experience so you sigh heavily, mentally preparing yourself as you rub your hands roughly against your eyes. You wince at the dull ache that shoots through you with the motion, and belatedly realise you must have a black eye.

"I was in the orchards and he came out of the trees. I guess he must have followed me from the castle." Your voice is still rough and scratchy but the drink Cas made you is helping no end as the pain is minimal compared to before. You swallow hard.

"Who?" Your father asks carefully and you look at him in surprise.

"Lucifer. I thought you knew." He nods stiffly, eyes darkening slightly and the tightness returning to his jaw. His eyes flicker to Bobby before looking back to you.

“And why were you in the orchards?”

You hesitate for just a fraction. “I’d agreed to meet Dean after the ball. You know how tedious I find those things.” You hate that you’re not telling the full truth to your parents but this is not the time and place to get into that conversation. Your father seems satisfied though and nods for you to continue. You close your eyes and try to remember.

"He threatened me. He said such awful things." You remember what he said about Dean and you shudder as you open your eyes. “I smacked him." A ghost of a smile passes over your father's lips. "He got angry and pushed me back against a tree. He hit me and then he…" You grimace as you remember his mouth closing over yours. How his hips had pressed tight against your own, his arousal straining against your leg. You feel sick.

You avert your eyes and look down at the blankets. "He kissed me." You mutter and your mother stills out of the corner of you eye. You watch as your father's hand clenches so hard on the bedspread, his knuckles turn white. "I kneed him in the gut, and he fell back. I tried to get away, I swear I did, I tried to fight him off, but he was so strong and – "

You cut off as your breathing gets hard and you know your panicking, but you can't get your heart to calm. You squeeze your eyes shut but then feel fingers soothing over your hair, causing your entire body to jolt back away from the contact. You push back hard against the headboard and when you open your eyes, you see dark trees and cold eyes. You blink again and you’re back in your bedroom. Your father and mother are looking at you in concern and you force yourself to breath deeply.

You are safe. You are safe. You are safe.

You hope to God that Bobby is right because you’ve barely said anything at all and it still feels overwhelming. "We fell to the ground and I was trying to crawl away. He pulled me back and that's when he poisoned me." You see the question in their eyes. "He had a vial. I tried to stop it but he forced me to drink it.”

You let out a shaking breath and feel moisture on your cheeks. When did you even start crying? "And I don't remember anything else." You whisper brokenly.

Your father nods and looks to Bobby, a silent conversation clearly happening between the two as though you’ve just cleared something up. Your father nods towards the door and says quietly. “Let them in.”

You watch in confusion as Bobby goes to open the door. He steps back and suddenly Dean is standing there with Sam behind him, a supportive hand on his shoulder.

His arm is slung tight across his chest and his face looks black and blue with bruises on his cheek, eye and jaw. There’s an awful cut on his forehead and his lip is busted open. His eyes find you immediately though, staring at you like you aren’t real.

You exhale, finally able to breathe again.

"How are you feeling?" Your mother asks and Dean visibly jumps, eyes flickering over to your mother for a moment before locking back on you. Sam moves to the other side of your bed and pulls two chairs up. Dean limps over, moving slowly.

"Cas fixed me up well and good." He says with a grin, but the grin turns into a grimace as he sits. You blink at him and he gives you a half-hearted wink.

"Don't stress, sweetheart. You should see the other guy."

Bobby snorts and Sam rolls his eyes, but your fathers face is still stern. His body is tight and coiled and he looks about ready to snap. "Dean. Why were you in the orchards?" He asks sharply. You see Dean fidgeting awkwardly before he answers. “I’d asked the Princess to meet me after the ball. I could see she wasn’t enjoying herself and wanted to cheer her up.” He sighs heavily as a distraught look passes over his face. “I was late though. King Charles was demanding more wine and had me running back and forth being choosy over what he wanted.“ He mutters bitterly. “Sam eventually took over for me but I realise now he was probably just stalling me.”

A muscle in your fathers jaw starts to tick as he grinds his teeth in frustration. "Tell us what happened when you came upon Y/n."

Dean rubs his face with his good hand and you can see he has no more desire to relive this anymore than you do. He meets your gaze, speaking softly. "As I came into the orchards, I heard you scream." He pauses and the look on his face is something you’ve never seen before. It causes your stomach to plummet and you want to reach out to him, but your body is aching and your parents are here and it's not the place.

"When I came into the clearing, Lucifer was on top of you. You weren't moving, you were so still, I didn't know if…" He sighs again, frustrated with himself.

"I kept shouting at him to get off you while I ran to you but it was like the jerk didn't even hear me. He just kept on-" Dean cuts off abruptly, eyes flickering to your father and then back to you. You know it must be bad if he's choosing his words carefully.

Your father notices his hesitancy too and if possible, grows tenser. Your mother reaches for his hand but he brushes her off, standing up and pacing the room like a caged animal. "Continue." He barks and everyone in the room jumps at the command.

"He was preoccupied with himself." Dean mutters with disgust and you close your eyes tight. Everything in you shaking at what almost was.

There is a loud crash and your eyes shoot open to see your bookcase face down on the floor. You barely catch your father wrenching open the door to your bedroom before it's slammed shut again. There is another crash from further down the hallway and your mother half stands.

"No." Bobby mutters, eyes fixed on the door. "I'll go. Stay with the princess."

Your mother nods and Bobby slips out of your room. Your eyes dart back to Dean and he's still staring hard at you, green eyes looking at you as though you might disappear.

Your stomach flips and a warmth spreads through you for the first time since you woke. You want to roll your eyes that he somehow still manages to evoke that reaction when you feel, and probably look, like absolute shit. His lips twitch.

"What happened?" You manage a gesture to his arm and face and he shrugs.

"We fought." His eyes are hard and dark and you wonder what sort of things Lucifer said to him. "I managed to knock him out and that's when I grabbed you. I got you to the gates, told the guards to alert the King and Queen. I didn’t expect them to sound the bloody war bells though." He rolls his eyes and you remember the deep tolling of the bells on the walls. Apparently they were for you. You sigh and watches as a warm blush climbs his cheekbones and he shuffles in his chair.

"And then, uh, I sort of passed out as well."

You blink at him. "You passed out?"

His blush burns hotter and your mother takes your free hand carefully. "Darling, Dean had dislocated his shoulder. The orchards are far away."

You look back to Dean and he's looking down at his fingers, ashamed and embarrassed and you want to cry because he saved you and he's upset that he passed out from pain? He's so ridiculous sometimes. Your eyes prick at the idea of what he must of endured carrying your completely unconscious and paralysed body the long distance between the castle walls and the orchard.

"Thank you." You whisper and his head snaps back up. He gives you a weak smile.

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

Tags:

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@spnexploration

@sassy-pelican

@sojuxxi

@irgendwas122

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x female reader #dean x you #dean winchester x female!reader #royal au #Dean Winchester x princess reader #princess reader #iprobablyshipit91 writes #words unsaid

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zeroandvoid · 5 months

Text

Fog

High in a cloud of nonsense

This double vision got me wondering

What else is there that I'm not seeing

For you, it's very convenient

What is never won can not be lost

If you don't show yourself completely

If you don't lift the fog once in a while

I can't know you, I can't feel you

How will I ever know if I love you?

Where has your soul been?

This hazy vision got me questioning

I can't see your aura's colour

For you, it's very convenient

You don't want me to perceive you

You're keeping me near, mystified

I don't know if I'm right or wrong

While I struggle to figure you out

I remain here, I'm blindsided

Perhaps I should hate you

Perhaps I even do

You want me to question my intuition, don't you?

I guess I know you're bad, but you got me good

I can't resist a good intrigue

I love the mystery of you

Diana M.

#poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing #original poem #original poetry

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glamoureddreamer · 1 year

Text

I deserve this

Undertale (Dream and Nightmare)

Warnings: mentions/hinted self harm, mentions/hinted eating disorders, vomiting, fights, (please let me know if I’ve missed anything)

If you or a loved one is in need of help in anyway please get help from one of the multiple help hotlines. You matter and you deserve help. Thank you everyone, have a great day and know it gets better <3

Dream returned from another au with a pounding headache. His whole skull felt as if it was being bashed in, he felt aflame.

Finally in his castle -seemingly alone- he could rest. He plops down on the couch, too exhausted to make it to his chambers.

Right as he was about to close his eyes he heard a portal being ripped open.

“Dream!” It was Blue. Dream jumped up and ignored his swaying and hazy vision. He swallowed thickly feeling nauseous.

“What is it Blue?” Blue frantically waved him over to the portal.

“It’s Nightmare and his gang- me and Ink need help please hurry-“ Blue says quickly before rushing back through the portal.

Dream stares at the portal for a second. He lifts his hands and looks at them. He had double vision, seeing four of his hands. He clenched his hands into fists and took a deep breath.

He could get through one small battle between his brother.

He quickly rushes towards the portal and hops through, the portal was quickly shut behind him.

His soul clenched upon seeing an au, not one void of everything but an actual au- one where there were people and families. They were in this au’s hotland, and he could definitely feel it.

Dream felt himself begin to sweat, he began to feel a weird sensation that he was hot and cold.

He again swallowed whatever was trying to come up and took a deep breath. Before he joined the battle he sent out a wave of positivity to help the monsters of this au relax and not fear for their au or their lives.

Doing so Dream stumbled almost falling to the ground, he pants heavily as he tries to collect himself.

“Dream!” He heard Blue yell from afar. Dream looks up and pushes his needs to the side, he stands up straight and runs into the fight.

He summons his blades and immediately attacks his brother. Unfortunately, he saw it coming and blocked it.

“Well well well, look who finally decided to join the party.”

Nightmare whipped one of his tentacles at Dream, Dream intended to dodge gracefully but he accidentally tripped over his own feet and stumbled out of the way.

Everything was spinning he felt hot and sick, hopefully, the fight wouldn’t last too long. Nightmare looked over his brother in confusion, he noticed that something wasn’t quite right.

Nightmare picked up Dream with his tentacles while the other was recovering.

“Dream!” Blue yelled in fear. “Hang on!”

Blue sped up his attacks in hopes of knocking Killer and Dust down so he could save Dream.

Dream squinted at his brother, trying to make him out through the hazy and double vision.

Amidst his struggling Dream was eventually moved upside down, and he felt his stomach turn.

“B-brother please… put me down.”

“I don’t feel your aura at all…what is wrong with you?” Nightmare questions him. Dream squeezed his sockets shut and tried to force everything in his stomach down.

Suddenly Dream was dropped and he felt someone by his side. Dream lost control then, perhaps it was the fast movement. Before Dream could do anything to prevent it he was puking on the ground.

His throat burned, and he felt weak and hot. Tears welled up in his eye sockets. It seemed as if the whole battle had stopped to see what was happening.

Nightmare stood in front of Dream who was puking. Blue sat beside Dream and tried to comfort him, though he stayed on guard if needed to protect the other.

“Dream?” Ink asked stepping forward to the guardian.

Dream made a small noise in response, he tried to stand but failed. He hardly stood up straight before his body quit on him, he fell into unconsciousness. Blue held his arms out in preparation to catch him though Nightmare’s tentacles caught him first.

Nightmare pulled his brother close and examined him, immediately he knew the problem.

Nightmare opened a portal, “Do not hurt them.” He spoke to his men stepping through and closing the portal behind him. He stepped into his bedroom within his castle, Dream shifted and groaned in his tentacles.

“Your an idiot brother.” Nightmare's voice was harsh but there was a concerned tone behind it. Dream made a confused noise, Nightmare laid him down on his bed.

“I mean neglecting yourself completely, when was the last time you had a drink of water that was more than a sip? Or for star’s sake a full meal.” Nightmare had to push Dream against the bed to prevent him from sitting up.

“I-“ Dream tried to start.

“No, lay down and rest.” He commanded. Dream was now more conscious and understanding about what was happening around him, sitting down really helped. Though to not upset his brother he laid in the bed not moving. He felt so tired he wasn’t sure he could even if he tried.

“Don’t move, so help me stars if you leave I’ll hunt you down until you are well.” Nightmare said disappearing.

Dream waits for his brother to return but he seemed to be taking a while. Dream looked around the room, taking in the dark aesthetic. This room was obviously his brothers.

Curiosity got the better of him, Dream shakily got off the bed and began to examine the room weakly.

There were many books and old items. Dream ran his fingers against the old books he stopped upon seeming an old and mangled-looking book.

Even though it was aged he still remembered it clearly. He carefully took it off its place and opened the book to the first page. Written in neat purple handwriting was ‘This book belongs to Nightmare the guardian of negativity’ and written in messy golden handwriting was ‘And Dream the guardian of positivity’.

The sound of teleporting scared Dream, he turned to his brother. He held a tray of food and a drink -he could only imagine that it was water.

“What did I say, brother,” Nightmare asked, he set the tray down on his side table and walked over to Dream.

“I thought I told you to-“ Nightmare froze upon seeing Dream with the book.

So many memories were brought back to him once. He cleared his nonexistent throat and used his tentacles to grab the book carefully from Dream, he set it in its rightful place.

“Go sit back down please, before you fall over.” Dream paused and looked down at the ground. His sockets filled with golden tears.

“Why? Why are you helping me?”

“Because obviously, you need someone to take care of you and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” Nightmare spat in a harsh tone.

Dream felt his anger boil, it made him feel sick and weak but he couldn’t care less right now.

“And your that someone?! I’ve been trying for years- years Nightmare to try and mend what was broken! To try and fix what I messed up! But you never even bothered to listen to me once!” Dream screamed, he dropped to his knees crying. The negativity no doubt made him feel weak but he was also using all his energy.

“I can take care of myself, I use to…but the more we fight the more I think that maybe…maybe I deserve this…to suffer…” Dream got quieter, he didn’t even dare look up at his brother.

“I was a terrible brother…I didn’t notice you were hurting. I’m so sorry…” Dream whimpered, crying into the palms of his hands.

After a single moment, he felt a cold presence hugging him. Dream gasps at the feeling of his brother hugging him, shock was quickly replaced with comfort that immediately made him start to sob.

Dream clutched onto Nightmare and sobbed nearly 500 years of hidden pain and guilt out.

His brother gently hushed him and rubbed his back.

“It’s okay Dream, breathe.” Dream nuzzled his face further into Nightmare. His sobs began to die down until he was only sniffling.

When Dream was ready Nightmare picked him up and brought him over to the bed once more.

Nightmare made sure he was comfortable and then set the tray of food in his lap.

“Eat, you need the energy.”

“Thank you Nightmare.” Dream smiles softly.

“Your welcome Dream.”

Dream picked up his fork and was about to begin eating when he stopped.

“Nightmare?” He asked looking up at his twin.

“Does this mean…does this mean we’ll have a truce?” Dream didn’t want to overstep already but he needed to know.

“Yes Dream, we’ll discuss the details when you're healthy.” Dream nodded and smiled with a soft okay before taking a bite of his food.

~Bonus~

“See I told you we’re going to truce!” The apple twins heard someone yell out the door.

“Hey get the fuck off of me!” Someone else yelled before the door opened and both of their teammates fell to the floor.

“Whyyyy boss?” Killer whined immediately getting up, “I like killing people.”

“I think this is great!” Blue cheered high giving Ink. Nightmare growled.

“Get out of here and let him rest idiots!” Both of their teammates were quick to run out, not wanting to deal with Nightmare's wrath.

Dream gave a quiet chuckle.

“This will be fun.”

#undertale #undertale au #undertale alternate universe #dreamtale #dreamtale nightmare #dreamtale dream #dreamtale sans #bad sanses #bad sans gang #star sans #killer sans #dust sans #horror sans #blue sans #swap sans #ink sans #cross sans #error sans

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