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cyncerity · 1 year

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Dream is a shifter (at least from what I'm inferring based off your most recent chart update and some previous posts). Dream and Tommy are cousins, so Dream is one of two children on the bottom left of the new labeled family tree. In an earlier post you mentioned that Dream moved with his mom and brother, which confirms he has a sibling. Later in that post you mention Dream telling George about his little! brother having his first day of kindergarten. Which makes Dream the first born and therefore the shifter! (I think lol)

tw: gun violence, non-sexual nudity, description of graphic violence

Glass shattering. That’s how it had started. A completely average day turned on it’s head by the sound of the front door being broken and a man screaming orders. A gun in his hand. Others started screaming, customers ran for their lives as the rest of the employees tried to help them escape. They tried to remain composed, tried to remember their training on how to deal with this safely, but the man was still there. Still shouting orders, still pointing his gun at anyone in his range of vision, now stalking the store looking for anyone he could get something from.

If you’d have asked Dream that morning if he thought he would die that day, well, he’d probably have been very, very concerned about what the question implied, but obviously he would have said no. But here he was, an armed robber in his store, some customers running and hoping to avoid the gunman, some ducking to the ground for cover, his friends all trying to help any innocent patrons while also keeping themselves alive. He couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t just stand by.

All of his training went out the window as he ran past anyone still in the store and directed them to the nearest exits, just praying he wouldn’t run straight into the robber, dumb luck being his only survival strategy. His employees refuted as silently as possible as to not attract the gunman’s attention, tried to convince him to let them stay to help. His little brother especially. Foolish had always been too kind for his own good. Nonetheless, he begged him to leave, along with the rest of his employees. He refused to let them die. They were his closest friends, practically his family, the people who had come to help when he took over this little store and the people who had stuck by him through thick and thin. If he had to be a martyr for them, so be it.

He had tried to get them all out. He thought he did. All his employees were accounted for, right…?

…shit, Nick. He was still in the store. Dream hadn’t seen him leave.

As quickly as he could run quietly, he tried to find Nick, only to no avail. Now, they weren’t exactly close friends, per say, but Dream would be damned if Nick had to die today. Just because he was a newer, more shy and soft spoken employee didn’t mean he deserved to be left behind with an armed robber. He turned to a different aisle, running through into an open area, just searching for any sign of his friend.

Cold metal touched his neck.

He didn’t have to move his head to know that the gun was on him. The barrel was pressing uncomfortably hard into his skin, sending shivers down his spine. He heard a gruff voice behind him tell him to lift his hands. He slowly obliged. After all, what more could he do? The man roughly patted him down, taking his wallet and phone out of his back pockets. Dream tried to think through anything he had on him. A pen in his front pocket, a pocket knife, a little notepad with his to-do list in his apron…wait a second.

He was stupid, wasn’t he?

The green switchblade was in his front right pocket. And, ok, maybe those were illegal to own, but they were damn good in a quick life-or-death situation like this one. If he timed it right, could he hit the gunman and run? Did he have time, or would he pull the trigger before then? Did he have time to think it through any further?

The hand reaching for his front pocket said no. So, he acted.

In a blur as his life flashed before his eyes, Dream’s hand came down quickly, grabbing the knife and quickly flipping the sturdy black tinted metal blade out. He thrusted his hand back as hard as he could and felt it hit something, his hand and knife quickly becoming covered in a warm, sticky liquid; but not before he heard a click from right behind his head.

***

Sapnap ran through the store. He had heard the shattering of the glass, had seen the man come in. He hadn’t understood immediately, but he knew crowd panic when he saw it. People running, screaming, crying, it all sent him back into some…unfortunate memories.

He eventually, thankfully, found someone he knew helping a small family out the employee only door in the back of the store. “Punz!” he called as loudly as he dared, trying to keep his voice low since that’s what everyone else seemed to be doing. Punz looked around for a bit before spotting him. His eyes raised and he quickly helped the family the rest of the way out before running to Sapnap. “Nick!” Punz said, voice wavering and hands shaking as they brought Sapnap into a hug. “Thank god you’re ok, you’re one of the few people i wasn’t with when this all went down.” Sapnap held onto his friend for a moment before gently pulling away and noticing that Punz looked terrified, more terrified than he’d ever seen a human look. He didn’t like seeing them like that. “Yeah, and speaking of ‘this,’ what’s going on?” “You didn’t see? Or hear?” “I saw the door break, and there was a guy. He was holding something and screaming and everyone started running, what’s going on?” Punz quickly shushed Sapnap before grabbing his wrist and guiding him to hide in a corner hidden by some shipment bins. “That guy was a robber and that thing was a gun. He’s here to fuckin mug us and kill anyone who gets in the way.”

Now, Sapnap didn’t know what the fuck a “gun” was, but he knew what kill meant. It meant he and everyone in this store were in terrible danger, he had to help people get out, what if someone was stuck in the aisles alone with a killer, what if…

his fiancés. Oh god, his fiancés. They were planning to borrow from the craft section, since Quackity had gotten some of his clothes torn and dirtied and wanted to make some new ones anyway. Were they out there? Alone? Oh god, if the thought of a relatively normal human finding and taking them was bad, the idea of a murderer finding them was so, so much worse. It made him feel sick.

He barely heard Punz’s scared whisper of his human name as he sprinted out of the corner. Punz could hide if he wanted. It was probably better for them anyway so they didn’t get hurt. But Sapnap couldn’t wait around for some killer to find his fiancés first.

***

Dream didn’t know what had happened. One second, he heard a gunshot, painfully close to his ears. He felt the heat behind his head and heard the trigger be pulled on him. He shouldn’t be alive right now. Was he even alive? Where…was he?

He felt like a little kid in a giant tent, like those parachutes that he played with in gym class. But this was bigger. Much, much bigger. It was a thicker stitching and fabric, and it was bright green, like his store uniform. Actually speaking of that, Dream realized he wasn’t actually wearing anything. He felt his face start to heat up. Well, that was…definitely pretty fuckin embarrassing, wasn’t it? Thank god he was alone wherever he was. Maybe he was dead. After all, you probably can’t take what you were wearing when you died to the afterlife. But the still warm blood on his hand from stabbing the gunman told him otherwise.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard something above him, something loud and seemingly confused. Was he crazy or did that sound like the gunman? All of a sudden, the world around him was tossed around, leaving him to helplessly flail around before he found some semblance of a way out.

There seemed to be a hole in the fabric, so without much of an idea of what else to do, he climbed for it. He made his way out into the open and saw what looked like miles of giant craft supplies. Glues, markers, scissors, fabrics, and little charms and knickknacks that seemed to go on forever. This…this was the craft aisle. He’d restocked it himself only a few days ago, but…why was it giant? He felt himself start to sweat and his hands started shaking as he fully took in the scene around him. In a panic Dream turned around, if only to not have to look at the giant supplies anymore only to see what he had crawled out of. And oh god, did he wish he had just kept looking at the craft supplies.

His work uniform. His shirt, now hundreds of times bigger than him, was unceremoniously crumpled beneath the aisle border after…whatever this was had happened to him, and he’d been stuck in it as it had been shoved around. What had happened to him? What if the gunman had done this to him? How could he have though?? Dream looked a bit farther down the floor and saw everything else he had had on him. His pants, his belt, his apron, and the necklace he had gotten from George. He carefully took the thick handmade blue and green braid that his boyfriend had made and tied it around his waist in a quick form of some cover. George had always insisted that he wear the mushroom pendant he got for Dream on the braid, it was tradition to his culture or something, and so they could match, given that George had made one for himself to hold the sword pendant Dream had sent to him. He didn’t have much from George, he’d never even met him in person, their necklaces had always been something they wore to remind themselves of the other until they could finally be together in person. Both of them rarely took it off. If there was anything he wanted to make sure he didn’t lose, it was the necklace.

The blue shiny mushroom pendant hit against his leg as he carefully walked from under the craft aisle border to the aisle he had just been in with the gunman only for his heart to practically stop. Hundreds of feet (well, feet to him) above him was the gunman, gun and bloodied knife left forgotten on the floor, as he ripped part of his shirt off and pressed it against his stab wound. A giant. Dream paled as hundreds of thoughts of what this man could do to him if he was found flashed through his mind, panic almost overtaking his mind almost enough to block out the sudden all too loud shouting…

wait, what?

***

Sapnap sprinted back to the craft aisle where he’d been trying to get for far too long. God dammit, why did he have to be such a nice person sometimes? He’d been helping people get out safely for a while, after he thought all the other employees had cleared out. But every time he thought there was no one left, someone else showed up and he couldn’t find it in him to leave someone else behind. But he still didn’t know if Karl and Quackity were ok. They had to be. He couldn’t live with himself if something had happened to them.

He was only a few aisles away when a loud bang rang out. It was somewhat familiar, he used to hear it occasionally when he lived in the forest colony he was born in. His dad had said the sounds were from hunters, humans with strange death machines that could kill an animal from far away. He explained them like over powered one handed bow and arrows. And now Sapnap had heard one in the store where his fiancés and possibly other humans were hiding.

Sapnap sprinted over full speed and froze where he stood. The robber stood right in front of him, back turned to him gun held out at open air. Sapnap could see the wall he was facing had been shot, if the minor crumbling was anything to go by. The gun in his hand was still smoking. But, why had he shot it at nothing?

Sapnap watched the man look around, mumbling incoherently and seemingly just really, really confused and then look around at the floor. Sapnap followed his eyes and it felt like his breathing stopped. Clothes. Not just any clothes, a work uniform, identical to the one he currently had on. What was that doing there? He watched the robber kick it around a bit before he saw it.

The white smiley pin on the apron and the little extra name tag that read manager. That was Dream’s. That was Dream’s uniform. Dream, who he realized he hadn’t seen leave, who he hadn’t heard anything about since the robber entered the store. He watched the man kick the uniform partially under an aisle and just shrug. He dropped the gun and physically pulled something from his side with a grunt and a wince, dropping that, too. He proceeded to take his jacket off and rip a part of the sleeve away and press it against his side, the dark fabric quickly becoming soaked and dripping with blood, Sapnap could smell it from where he stood several feet behind the man. He took that time to venture his eyes to the floor again.

A knife. That’s what the man had pulled from his side. A bright, almost neon green knife with a smiley face carved into the handle. That had to be Dream’s. Dream had stabbed the man, stabbed him good enough to cause a substantial amount of bleeding. Sapnap could guess who the man shot at.

So, where was Dream? If his knife was there, and his clothes where there for some reason, where was he? What had the robber done with him?

Sapnap ignored his anger and confusion for now. He could find Dream and make sense of all this later once the stranger with the gun was dealt with. But what could he use? There wasn’t much useful artillery in a craft aisle and the aisle next to it was where they blew up balloons for birthday parties and stuff…

wait a minute.

***

“HEY FUCKER!!”

Dream knew that voice, as loud as it was and as much as it hurt his ears at the moment, he knew that voice. Nick had always been so quiet, never really wanting to talk to people, and Dream couldn’t have even imagined him being loud moments prior, but damn if he wasn’t really loud right now. He also couldn’t have imagined how angry Nick could be.

Dream snapped his head in the direction of the scream at about the same time the gunman did, but only really Dream got to see what went down, since the second the robber turned his head, he was forcefully knocked backward with the full brute force of a helium tank to the face. He looked up farther to see Nick, face contorted in rage, face red and chest heaving, probably from having thrown a helium tank full force a moment earlier. Jesus, how strong was Nick? Dream backed up further at the thought. After all, if he had the strength to chuck a 30+ pound helium tank, what could he do to him right now?

He wanted to smack himself for thinking about that right now. Nick wouldn’t hurt him, he knew that. Sure, they didn’t know each other great, but he knew Nick was a nice guy. More than a nice guy, he was one of the sweetest people he’d ever met. Nick stayed with him after hours constantly, always helped anyone with what they needed, never complained and always did his best to work well with others. Why would he hurt Dream now? Why would he want to? But yet, the thought of drawing Nick’s attention to himself make his knees weak. He was just…so big right now. He was an absolute giant, sue him for being scared of someone who could kill him so effortlessly.

He watched Nick walk over to the robber and make sure he was unconscious, as if anyone could stay awake after getting decked that hard. He watched Nick lift the man’s head a bit and if Dream wasn’t scared enough earlier, he certainly was now. Dream could hardly breathe as he watched literal teeth fall out of the man’s mouth as Nick sat him in an upright position against the wall he had apparently shot when he hadn’t hit Dream. Along with that, he nose was broken to an absolute pulp, and his entire face was an ugly blend of purples, reds, and blacks. He watched Nick take in the damages himself and he at least looked somewhat concerned, as if he hadn’t meant to do that much damage. Dream kind of wished that was true. Nick had never seemed all that violent.

After a moment of kneeling and surveying what he’d done to the robber, he stood and walked back the way he’d come down the aisle, freezing to stare down at Dream’s knife. After a few moments of hesitation and an expression that Dream couldn’t quite read, he knelt down to take it and, after a few seconds of looking it over, flipped the switch to slide the blade back in.

“…Dream? Are you here? Are you ok?” Nick asked, sounding concerned. He kept looking around as if Dream would just appear out of nowhere at his call, never thinking to look down. Of course not, why should he? No rational person would assume the person they were looking for was all of a sudden mere inches tall for no reason. And as Dream heard Nick call out his name over and over, sounding more frantic every time, he hesitated. He knew he should want to go out there, he knew his friend would help him through whatever had happened. But something kept him where he was, hiding under the aisle.

Fear. He knew it was fear, plain and simple. Thousands of worst case scenarios came to the forefront of his mind as he watched Nick pace up and down the aisle, and he couldn’t bring himself to step out where he could be seen.

How could he know what Nick would do? How could he guess how Nick would react to…this? How could he be sure he wouldn’t regret it? He liked Nick a lot, he really did, but he’d be putting his life and his well-being in the hands of another person, and there wasn’t a single person he thought he could trust enough to do that with, not right now, now while he felt so…vulnerable. So, he stayed put, and watched Nick sigh and give up, pulling out his phone. It took him a few seconds of muttering to himself before he seemingly remembered something and tapped at his phone a few times. He put it up to his ear and Dream could only watch helplessly as Nick reported everything that had happened to who he could only assume was the 911 operator. He seemed to move past the initial break in pretty quickly, so someone else had already probably called about that, but he listened in on how Nick reportedly “captured” the gunman and how his friend was missing.

It took a lot not to break down then and there as Dream listened to Nick recite everything he knew into the phone. Gunshot in the wall, clothes on the floor, his knife in the side of the assailant, and no sign of him beyond that. He heard tears start to threaten Nick’s voice as he continued and repeated the confusing details, probably at the request of the operator. Dream was sure he’d be on the news by the next morning at the very latest, once the relatively small town learned that the owner of one of the most popular stores in the area was missing. God, when his mom found out he was alive and ok, she’d kill him. He didn’t want to make her worry this much.

…Well, that is, if she ever found out he was alive and ok. He didn’t know if this was temporary, or if it could ever even be reversed, or if he’d just keep shrinking until he disappeared or something horrifying like that. Maybe someone he knew would accidentally step on him or squish him if they didn’t notice him at his new size. Then maybe it would be a good idea for his friends and family to think he mysteriously disappeared, so they couldn’t blame themselves. He tried not to let his thoughts on that particular matter go any farther. Instead he put his focus back on Nick, and saw him make his way into the craft aisle as the operator seemed to take over talking, Nick only responding every once in a while with a nod or a hum. He seemed to be searching the aisles for something, which seemed…odd, given the circumstances.

It was only when Dream heard quiet, almost inaudible voices that Nick turned slightly away from him and towards the noise, apparently having heard it himself. Or maybe he was hearing the operator’s voice and Nick was looking random places and he was losing his mind. He wouldn’t be too surprised after what had just happened. He was already tiny, why not add a little bit of hysteria and insanity on top? Dream watched as Nick started to move some boxes on a higher shelf, and he seemed to find what he was looking for. His eyes went wide as he quickly stuck his phone between his shoulder and head and turned fully to the shelf, lifting both hands high and seemingly taking something.

Dream saw the tears from before start to pour from his eyes as he pulled whatever it was down from the shelf and held it up to his face, and Dream thought he could hear Nick whispering quiet reassurances to it before moving it to one hand and pressing it against his chest and picking the phone back up. He quickly turned his back to Dream as he continued down the aisle, and Dream could only catch a glimpse of…a tail? Did he really see a tail sticking out from Nick’s fingers? Whatever, if Nick had a pet mouse of something in the store, that was none of his business. Not right now, anyway.

As soon as he was sure Nick was far enough away, he walked into the craft aisle, looking around the various strings and fabrics. He sighed and made his way over to their scrap pile, finding himself a long green sheet. Foolish had always made fun of him for wearing predominately bright green, but what could he say, he had a brand. Besides, for the time being, he was stuck like this, and he’d rather not be completely indecent. And after all, this was his store, he knew where the necessities were, all he had to do was survive until this wore off. It was gonna wear off. It had to wear off eventually, he couldn’t spend the rest of his life like this. He didn’t know what he’d do if he could never return to his old life. But that was a thought for a far later, more desperate Dream, because this was only the beginning. He’d start to be concerned at the permanent nature of this if he wasn’t normal again in a few days. He’ll have an existential crisis about how all this happened later. For the time being, he had to stay positive, he couldn’t afford to panic when everything and everyone could so easily kill him. He needed gear, things to hold supplies, someplace to call a base for the time being, he had so much to do. But…not before clothes, those should probably come first.

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spiderlyla · 8 months

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Miguel and reader gf about to go to bed but shes wearing baby blue boy shorts as underwear and he just cant stop staring at the print of her pussy so when they’re about to gts he randomly takes off the covers and stuffs his face in between her legs.

“Mhm dont even needa take em off amor just love this pussy”

female (afab) reader × miguel o'hara.

cw: cussing, NSFW (minors dni), biting, mention of fangs, miguel being pussy crazed.

miguel wasn't sure where you got those from.

you always wore one of two things when you went to bed, just the regular white pair you have dozens of or those skimpy lace ones that he-oh-so-loved to rip off of you.

but this was something new.

you wore baby blue shorts, too short and a size too small, curving around your figure, your poor thighs choked by them. you bend over to grab some candles from your bedside table and miguel couldn't help but watch how the fabric hugged your ass perfectly and jiggled when you moved. you seemed oblivious to what you were doing to him, acting all naturally, like you weren't edging him everytime you brushed past him or everytime you bend over to grab something.

they were a little sheer, so when you sat down, he could visibly see a wet print right between your thighs. the urge to bury his face between your legs only grew as he uncomfortably shifted on the chair opposite your bed. you laid on your stomach, lighting up those two candles you grabbed before you went back to laying on your back.

"mm, mig, won't you come to bed, honey?" the way you said his name hypnotised him, like a siren's call. "I'm reading, amor." he truly wasn't. the book was long discarded on the little table beside him, its been sitting there ever since he laid eyes in you in those shorts.

you spread your legs a little while checking your phone, oh, you have to be doing this on purpose now. " 'nough reading, please. come to bed." that little 'please' was enough to convince him. he got up and walked over towards you. as soon as he did you dropped your phone on the counter and spread your arms towards him. he chuckled and laid down, and immediately, you rested your head on his chest, with a hand around his tummy and a thigh on top of his leg.

you pulled the cover over the two of you and got cozy. hee could feel the wetness between your legs stain his own sweatpants, and each time you moved, your knee brushed against his hardened cock. this was unbearable. truly and utterly unbearable.

he tried to take his mind off of all those filthy thoughts he was having but with the way your breath fanned on his neck, and those little sleepy hums of yours he truly couldn't take it. as soon as you started feeling comfortable enough to slip into sleep, miguel moved.

fast.

"mig? what are you doing?" he kicked off the sheets and moved on top of you, quickly making himself comfortable between your legs. he left a kiss on the exposed skin of your inner thigh, fangs grazing against the plush skin. you let out a small moan, trying to move away. he wasn't in the mood for teasing, his calloused hands kept your legs in place as he continued to push himself in between your thighs. "where did you find these?" he mumbled, noticing how the print got bigger everytime he bumped his nose into your clit. you squirmed in place, "in—in my drawer—they're old but really comfortable—ah, mig.." his tounge licked a strip over the cloth, not bothering to take it off. "y-you can take it off—"

"no." he moved your legs over his shoulders, all while marking your thigh with bites. "no need. not right now." to relief himself a little, he grinded into the mattress, just the scent of you driving him wild. your hands had found his silky tufts of black hair and with every tug he felt himself getting dizzy. the tip of his nose kept brushing against your clothed, puffy clit. "we should sleep like this.." the vibrations of his baritone voice ran up your core, and you let out a moan that could be perfectly described as pornographic. "..love being between your legs, amor." His lips brushed against the wet spot—that has since quickly turned into a pool, soaking your shorts.

"so wet for me, didn't do anything yet." his fingers found the waistband underneath your oversized shirt, and he slowly peeled the shorts off, leaving you completely and utterly exposed. your slick dampening your wine coloured sheets.

miguel looked up at you, his irsis swirling with something you recognised all too well, pure and utter desire. he leaned in silently, his mouth mere inches from you.

"all for me.." his tounge ran across your cunt, you could see his eyes blow wide as soon as he tasted you. he glanced up at you with a grin, saying only one sentence before he went back to the matter between your legs.

"wear these fucking shorts all the time."

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