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heliosunny · 4 months ago

Note

Love you "lucky egg" series can you write with Kevin Kaslana?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Kevin x Reader

[artist]

The game was over before it even began.

You had Rowan cornered—one more move, and victory was yours. Across the table, she scowled at the board, brows furrowed in deep concentration. You could see the exact moment she realized she had no way out, frustration flickering across her face.

And then—chaos.

A blur of fur launched onto the table, scattering dice and knocking over carefully placed pieces. Rowan let out a sharp gasp, while you barely had time to react before a tiny, wriggling body landed in your lap.

"Pebble!" Rowan groaned, throwing her hands up. "You little demon!"

The ferret chittered, unbothered by the accusation, tail flicking as she burrowed into the crook of your arm. You chuckled, stroking her soft fur. "Guess that means I win by default."

"Absolutely not!" Rowan pointed an accusatory finger at you before hastily trying to reset the board. "We are starting over, and you are losing."

Before you could argue, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen—and suddenly, all interest in revenge seemed to vanish. "Oh! Did you hear about that lucky egg dispenser? The one that spawns magical pets?"

That caught your attention. You adjusted Pebble in your arms, intrigued. "Magical pets?"

"Yeah, people have been posting about it all day." She turned the phone toward you, showing images of small creatures—some glowing, some covered in intricate patterns, others curled up beside their new owners. "You said you wanted a pet, right? Maybe you'll get something cool."

That was all the convincing you needed.

The shop was tucked into a quiet alley, the kind of place that felt almost hidden from the rest of the world. The machine itself stood against the wall, an old-fashioned thing with a glass front and faintly glowing buttons. A small crowd had gathered, some holding eggs that shimmered with warmth, others already introducing their newly hatched companions to the world.

You fed a coin into the slot, anticipation thrumming in your chest as. Light swirled within the chamber, forming the shape of an egg—

But something was wrong.

Instead of the warm glow of the other eggs, yours was a deep, icy blue. The second it materialized, the temperature dropped. A thin layer of frost spread beneath it, creeping outward in sharp, crystalline patterns. The air turned crisp, your breath misting in front of you.

Rowan took one look and backed away. "Nope. Absolutely not. That thing is cursed. You are on your own."

You barely heard her. The cold should’ve been biting, unbearable—but as you reached out, it didn’t sting. Didn’t hurt.

You lifted the egg carefully, cradling it against you. Beneath your touch, the frost settled.

"You're seriously keeping that?" Rowan asked, incredulous.

"Yeah. I think I am."

Taking care of the egg wasn’t easy.

It never warmed, never pulsed with life the way Rowan said hers had. Other people who had gotten lucky eggs spoke about how their eggs glowed, moved, or made soft noises from inside. Yours did nothing.

It just sat there, an unmoving sphere of frost.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry.

Even when Pebble curiously prodded at it with her tiny paws, even when Rowan kept side-eyeing it like it might explode, you simply… waited.

The egg sat in a nest of blankets on your desk, cold as ice but never spreading frost beyond its immediate space. When you touched it, the chill wasn’t painful, just sharp—like the crisp bite of winter air. You spoke to it sometimes, like it could hear you.

“I wonder what you’ll be,” you mused one night, resting your chin in your hand as you watched it. “Something fluffy? Something with wings?”

But on the third night, something changed.

crack.

You bolted upright, heart leaping, just as another fracture splintered across the egg’s icy surface.

"Oh, shit—"

The cold surged outward, a sudden blast of frigid air so intense it made the lights flicker. Pebble scurried under your bed with a startled squeak. Rowan, who had stayed over out of curiosity, jolted awake on your floor, rubbing her eyes blearily.

“What—” she started, but then the egg broke.

Not in gentle pieces.

It shattered.

Shards of ice burst outward, frost curling along the floor. You instinctively shielded your face, but the cold didn’t harm you. Instead, a figure emerged from the mist, stepping forward as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Tall. Broad shoulders. White hair. Blue eyes.

He reached for you, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. He was freezing. Ice clung to his clothes, frost still trailing from his skin, but his hold was desperate.

Like he had been waiting an eternity to touch someone again.

"...You're real" he murmured against your shoulder, voice low, almost disbelieving. "You're here."

Rowan made a sound—half gasp, half incredulous choke. "Okay, WHAT—"

The man’s head snapped up. His arms tensed around you, and before you could blink, a blade materialized in his grip.

Rowan barely had time to move before he pointed it at her.

"Wait!" You moved, stepping in front of Rowan, shielding her with your body. “Stop! She’s not a threat!”

The cold thickened, sharp and heavy in the air. His grip on the weapon didn’t waver.

But then, his eyes met yours again.

And, slowly—reluctantly—he lowered the blade.

Rowan, to her credit, didn’t push.

After witnessing a fully grown man emerge from an ice egg and nearly skewer her with his weapon, she looked between you and him—expression torn between concern and absolute disbelief, then slowly exhaled.

"You know what? I’m gonna go."

"Rowan—"

"Nope. You two clearly have… whatever this is to sort out. And I, for one, do not want to be on the receiving end of a sword again.”

She grabbed Pebble—who had poked her head out from under the bed, curiosity outweighing her fear. “Text me if you need backup. Or if he starts doing creepy ice magic. Or if he tries to murder you in your sleep.”

“I won’t need backup.”

“You say that now.”

Then, with a final suspicious glance at Kevin—who had yet to move from where he stood, silently watching—she left.

The moment the door clicked shut, you turned back to the stranger in your room.

“Alright. Spill.”

He didn’t respond.

You crossed your arms. “Who are you?”

Silence.

“How did you come from the egg?”

Nothing.

“Why did you almost stab Rowan?”

Still nothing.

Your patience thinned. His unwillingness to speak was quickly becoming frustrating.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “Look, you can’t just show up, nearly give my best friend a heart attack, hug me like you’ve known me for years, and then say nothing.”

“…Kevin.”

You frowned. “Kevin?”

“That’s… my name.”

Kevin.

The name felt familiar. Like a word on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach.

Your phone buzzed, breaking the tense silence. You glanced at the screen. A text from Rowan.

ran into my ex. send help. or maybe a meteor.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head before replying.

You’ll survive. Just avoid eye contact.

Another buzz.

fine. but now you’re stuck babysitting ice man. enjoy.

You sighed, slipping your phone back into your pocket before turning to Kevin. “Looks like it’s just us for the night.”

His posture shifted slightly at that.

“…What does that mean?”

“It means I’m stuck taking care of you.” You stretched, rolling your shoulders before glancing back at him. “And since I doubt you’ve eaten in… well, ever, we’re getting food.”

"…Food?"

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Dinner. You do eat, right?”

“…With you?”

“…Yeah,” you said, “With me.”

For the first time since he hatched, Kevin looked almost… happy.

Taking Kevin out in public turned out to be more of a spectacle than you anticipated.

From the moment you stepped into the restaurant, people stared.

You couldn’t exactly blame them. Kevin wasn’t exactly inconspicuous—towering over most of the patrons, clad in unfamiliar clothes, the way his presence seemed to subtly lower the temperature of the room—it was no wonder people were sneaking glances, whispering behind their hands.

Kevin, for his part, didn’t seem to care.

Every so often, his fingers would flex at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to reach for something.

You nudged him lightly. “Relax.”

He glanced at you. “…I am.”

“You look like you’re about to start a fight with the waiter.”

He didn’t respond, but his posture eased just slightly.

You reached the counter, scanning the menu before placing your order. When the cashier turned to Kevin expectantly, he hesitated—clearly unsure of what to do.

“Just get whatever looks good.”

He studied the menu for a moment before quietly repeating what you ordered.

The cashier, still eyeing him curiously, nodded and rang it up.

As you moved to find a seat, you caught snippets of hushed conversations.

“—he has to be a model, right?”

“Did you see his eyes? They glowed for a second, I swear—”

You glanced at Kevin to see if he noticed. If he did, he didn’t react. His focus remained entirely on you.

Even when you sat down, even as people continued stealing glances, his attention never strayed.

“…Do you always attract this much attention?”

“Attention?”

“The staring. The whispering. You’re kind of hard to ignore.”

He blinked, then looked around—like he was only just noticing the way people’s eyes flickered toward him before quickly looking away.

“I don’t care”

You exhaled, leaning back. “Of course you don’t.”

----

Life with Kevin was… an adjustment.

At first, he was quiet—always watching, always listening, rarely speaking unless spoken to. But the more time you spent together, the more he started to change. A comment here, a question there. Then, one day, Rowan nearly choked on her drink when he suddenly cracked a joke.

"Why did the scarecrow win an award?"

You and Rowan exchanged glances. "…Why?"

Kevin, completely deadpan: "Because he was outstanding in his field."

A beat of silence.

Then Rowan smacked you on the arm, wheezing. "What have you unleashed?!"

From that moment on, there was no stopping him. Every opportunity, every silence, every meal—another dad joke. Some so bad they made Rowan dramatically fake her own death on your couch. Others that made you snort into your drink when you least expected it.

And then there was the cooking.

Kevin, for all his strengths, sucked at it.

You tried to be patient. You really did. But after the third time he turned a simple omelet into something that looked—and smelled—like a crime scene, you had to intervene.

"Kevin. What did you do to this?"

He looked at the mess on the plate, completely unfazed. "I followed the instructions."

Rowan peered at the destruction. "…Did the instructions tell you to make it explode?"

He looked at the pan like it had personally betrayed him. "It didn’t do that last time."

"Last time?" you echoed in horror.

In the end, you took over the cooking duties, while Kevin begrudgingly stepped back—though not without very intense supervision.

"No, Kevin, you don't need to set the heat that high. Lower it. No, lower."

Despite all the chaos, it… worked.

Somehow, between Rowan’s teasing, Kevin’s terrible jokes, and your constant attempts to keep everything from burning down, the three of you settled into something that felt almost normal.

Kevin spoke more now. He wasn’t just an observer anymore. He and Rowan still had their moments (mostly involving his near-murder of her that first night), but they got along better than you ever expected.

And even though you didn’t have all the answers about him—where he really came from, what he was hiding—it didn’t feel like he was a stranger anymore.

He was just… Kevin.

---

The more time you spent with Kevin, the more you noticed something off.

It wasn’t just the cold that followed him. That, at least, you had gotten used to—the way the air seemed to crisp slightly when he was deep in thought, or how frost would creep along the glass whenever he stared too long out the window.

No, it was something else. The way his eyes would linger on the night sky, a faraway look in them. The way his posture would stiffen whenever a particular song played, or when Rowan made an offhand comment about history, or war, or things lost to time.

Like he was remembering something.

Something he refused to talk about.

“…Kevin?”

He didn’t answer at first.

Then, finally, he murmured, “The world feels… different.”

“Different how?”

He wasn’t sure how to explain it.

“Lighter.”

You stepped closer. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“…No,” he admitted. “But it makes me wonder.”

You tilted your head. “About what?”

“If this world was always like this… or if it was made this way.”

You didn’t understand what he meant.

----

You worked as a dungeon monitor—watching adventurers as they delved into the depths, tracking their progress, recording statistics, and ensuring that if something went horribly wrong, help could be dispatched.

That day, things almost went very wrong.

The team that entered was experienced—one of the best—but halfway through their expedition, the cameras cut out. The entire monitoring system flickered and failed, leaving your department blind to whatever was happening inside.

Then, the readings spiked.

Unstable energy fluctuations. High threat levels.

Something was in there with them.

You and the others scrambled to restore visuals, but it was useless. No way to see what they were facing, no way to tell if they were even still alive.

Then Kevin, who had been standing silently behind you the entire time, spoke.

“I’ll go.”

You turned to him, startled. “What?”

“I’ll go in.”

The room fell silent. Some of your coworkers exchanged uneasy glances. Others whispered among themselves, unsure whether to take him seriously.

“Kevin,” you said carefully, “we don’t know what’s in there.”

“I’ll handle it.”

You knew how strong he was. You’d seen glimpses of it—his unnatural speed, his ice-cold aura, the way he carried himself like someone who had fought things far worse than this.

But going in alone?

“…You sure?” you asked.

Instead of answering, he raised his hand.

A sudden heat flooded the room.

For a moment, you thought he had activated his ice abilities again—but then you saw it. The shift in temperature. The faint glow of embers at his fingertips, the flicker of something red-hot forming at his side.

The blade he summoned burned fiercely, searing through the cold that usually followed him. The contrast was almost unnatural—his frozen presence clashing with the heat of his weapon, a contradiction made real.

The room was dead silent.

Then Kevin turned, walking toward the entrance of the dungeon without another word.

Kevin returned an hour later.

Injured, bloodstained, but standing.

And he wasn’t alone.

One by one, he carried them out—some limping, some unconscious, some… unmoving. He didn’t stop. Even when his arm was clearly wounded, even when a deep gash trailed down his side, he did not leave a single body behind.

The survivors were in shock—some barely coherent, others whispering about what they had seen inside. About the monster.

About him.

The other department arrived shortly after—the clean-up team, tasked with handling whatever remained inside the dungeon. You sat with the injured, helping where you could, while Kevin leaned against a wall, silent as medics tended to him.

Then the reports started coming in.

The mess he left behind.

The ice-covered battlefield, frozen over in jagged, unnatural formations. The smoldering remains of the creature—the way its body had been carved through by searing heat, its flesh torn apart by both fire and frost.

The kind of destruction that shouldn’t have been possible by one man alone.

One of the cleanup officers returned, pale-faced and visibly shaken. He pulled you aside, voice low.

“That guy…” He glanced warily at Kevin, who hadn’t moved from where he sat, “What is he?”

You looked at Kevin—the quiet, frostbitten warrior who told dad jokes and failed miserably at cooking.

And the man who had just single-handedly taken down a monster that nearly wiped out an entire team.

“…He’s Kevin” you said simply.

The officer gave you an incredulous look, but you didn’t elaborate.

Because the truth was, you didn’t know either.

Kevin was quiet on the way home.

He was thinking.

When you finally reached your place, he sat on the couch, arms resting on his knees, gaze unfocused. His wounds had been patched up—though not without some grumbling from Rowan about how “mystery ice man is way too durable for his own good”—but he didn’t seem concerned about them.

If anything, he looked… frustrated.

You watched him for a moment before nudging his foot with yours. “Something on your mind?”

“…I shouldn’t have been injured.”

“Uh. What?”

Kevin frowned slightly, staring at the bandages on his arm. “Those attacks shouldn’t have hurt me. Not like this.” His fingers curled slightly. “I haven’t fully recovered.”

You exchanged glances with Rowan, who raised an eyebrow. “Recovered from what?”

His gaze flickered—first to you, then to Rowan, then back again.

“Something else isn’t right,” he murmured. “The effects of the dungeon. You should have been affected.”

You tilted your head. “We weren’t inside.”

“That doesn’t matter.” His brow furrowed. “The energy—its reach should have been wider. You were close enough to be impacted.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “But you weren’t.”

You exchanged another glance with Rowan.

Rowan crossed her arms. “I felt something,” she muttered. “Like a headache, maybe? It wasn’t great, but it didn’t kill me.”

Kevin seemed to consider that, his expression unreadable.

You, on the other hand, just shrugged. “I felt fine.”

That made him look at you again—longer this time, like he was trying to figure something out.

“…Why?”

You just huffed, flopping onto the couch beside him. “Maybe I’m just built different.”

Rowan snorted. “Or maybe you’ve been exposed to so much weird dungeon energy that your body just gave up trying to resist it.”

You rolled your eyes before nudging Kevin again. “Besides, why are you so surprised? You’ve literally been sitting in my apartment acting like a human air conditioner. Maybe I just got used to it.”

Kevin blinked.

Then blinked again.

“…You’ve been using me as an air conditioner?”

You shrugged. “It’s convenient.”

Rowan lost it. Kevin just stared at you, utterly unreadable.

----

Kevin didn’t hesitate.

The moment he got Rowan’s message “Emergency. We’re in trouble. Come fast.”—he was already moving.

By the time he arrived, the situation was bad.

Inside the monitoring room, you and your coworkers were forced to your knees, hands restrained, faces pale with fear. Armed men stood around you, their presence suffocating. And at the center of it all, towering over the rest, was a man—easily over six feet, built like a fortress, but it wasn’t just his size that put Kevin on edge.

It was the energy radiating from him.

The moment Kevin stepped in, every pair of eyes turned to him.

The leader grinned.

“There he is,” he rumbled, “The one we’ve been looking for.”

“You... were expecting me?”

The man spread his arms, like this was some grand occasion. “We search for power. Real power. And you…” His eyes gleamed. “You are exceptional.”

Kevin didn’t respond.

The man chuckled. “Come with us.”

Kevin’s eyes flickered—first to you, then to Rowan, then to the others.

Then, the man’s grin widened.

“But if you refuse,” he said, almost lazily, “I wonder… who will you save?”

At his signal, his men moved, pressing weapons closer to throats, tightening their hold.

He had to choose.

You, or the others.

The air turned ice-cold.

Kevin’s fingers twitched at his side, the temperature around him plummeting. The leader’s grin never wavered, but the air shimmered subtly around his body—like something unseen was suppressing the cold before it could reach him.

A countermeasure.

Kevin didn’t react, but you knew he noticed. Knew he was already calculating his next move.

Think, Kevin.

You weren’t the only ones in danger. Your coworkers—terrified, vulnerable—were too close. Too easy to kill. And these men… they weren’t bluffing.

The leader chuckled. “Decisions, decisions.”

Kevin didn’t hesitate. In an instant, he moved.

The shift was so fast it was almost imperceptible—one moment he was standing still, the next he was on them. His hand shot forward, ice crackling at his fingertips, aiming for the nearest enemy—

Only for the leader’s presence to surge.

A crushing force slammed into Kevin like a wall. His momentum stalled.

For the first time since you’d met him, Kevin staggered.

“Not so easy, is it?”

Kevin clenched his jaw, already adjusting, already adapting.

But you knew.

He wasn’t at full strength.

And these men knew exactly what they were doing.

The leader didn’t give Kevin time to recover.

Before Kevin could strike again, the pressure intensified—crushing, suffocating, like an invisible force pinning him in place. You saw his muscles tense, his body resisting, but for the first time, Kevin wasn’t just unstoppable.

He was being held back.

"You feel it, don't you?" he mused. "The weight? The restraint? It's designed for people like you. Those with overwhelming power, too dangerous to be left unchecked." He smirked. "You’re strong. But strength means nothing if you can’t use it."

"You have two options," the leader continued, gesturing to the hostages. "Join us, or decide which of them dies first."

The temperature spiked.

The suppression was strong, yes. But Kevin was adaptive. And right now, his ice was useless. But fire?

Fire was different.

And Kevin, despite his injuries, moved fast. In one swift motion, he grabbed you—yanked you toward him, shielding you with his body as a blast of heat surged through the room. The suppression cracked just enough for him to act.

But not without cost.

Because in that same moment, a blade slashed through his side.

The leader had expected this. Counted on it. And Kevin, despite his speed, despite his strength, wasn’t untouchable.

His body jerked slightly at the impact, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he twisted, using the momentum to hurl you out of immediate danger, straight into Rowan’s grasp.

Then he turned back to the fight.

He had made his choice.

He wasn’t going with them.

And he wasn’t letting them win.

The battle ended in chaos.

Kevin had won. The leader was down, the remaining men either unconscious or fleeing. The oppressive force that once restrained him was gone, shattered beneath his relentless strength.

But something was wrong.

Pain flared through your body—You barely registered the moment you collapsed, barely noticed the blood staining your clothes.

"No!"

He was at your side in an instant, faster than your mind could process. His hands hovered over, the fear in his eyes couldn't be hid.

Your breath came in ragged gasps. Distantly, you heard Rowan’s voice—panicked, but it was Kevin’s grip that stabilized you.

"Stay awake," he ordered, "You have to stay awake."

You tried to respond, tried to tell him you were fine, but the words wouldn't come.

Then, for the briefest moment, you saw something in his face—something haunted.

As if he had seen this before.

---

Relief flooded his expression when he realized you were still breathing, still alive. His hold tightened slightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go.

When you woke up, everything hurt.

Your vision was hazy, the dull beep of a heart monitor filling the quiet room. The air smelled of antiseptic, the blankets felt too stiff, and—

Why is there so much yelling?

“You don’t understand.” Kevin’s voice—low, firm, but unmistakably angry. “Let me in.”

“We can’t—” Someone—probably a nurse tried to reason with him, but Kevin wasn’t having it.

“Move.”

“Sir, we have rules—”

“Kevin, please,” Rowan’s voice now, exasperated and desperately apologetic. “You can’t just barge in like a walking snowstorm—”

“You think rules matter?” Kevin sounded genuinely offended. “Y/N almost died.”

You sighed, the noise barely above a whisper, but apparently, it was loud enough.

Because within seconds, the door slammed open.

Kevin stood there, looking like he was two seconds away from freezing the entire hospital. Rowan was right behind him, muttering rapid apologies to the poor staff, who were wisely keeping their distance.

“You’re awake.”

“…Yeah”

Kevin was at your side in an instant, looking you over, as if making sure you were still real. His fingers twitched—like he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if he should.

Rowan sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, now that you’re here, can you stop acting like a wild animal?”

Kevin ignored her.

“…You’re okay?” His voice was quieter now, barely above a murmur.

You blinked up at him, tired but amused. “Dunno, Kev. You tell me. You’re the one scaring the doctors.”

Rowan snorted.

Kevin looked unimpressed. But the tension in his shoulders eased. Just a little.

Kevin didn’t leave your side after that.

Not when the doctors checked your vitals, not when Rowan tried to convince him to go home and rest, not when visiting hours technically ended. If anyone even thought about kicking him out, one look at his expression shut them up immediately.

You weren’t going to win this one.

So, you sighed, shifting slightly in bed. “Kevin.”

His attention snapped to you instantly.

“You don’t have to hover,” you muttered. “I’m not dying.”

Kevin didn’t look convinced. His gaze flickered to your bandages, to the faint strain in your voice. “…I won’t leave.”

Rowan groaned, rubbing her temples. “Of course you won’t.” But she didn’t argue anymore. Instead, she stood, stretching. “Fine. If you’re gonna stay, I’m going home. Someone has to make sure Pebble doesn’t eat my shoes.”

You gave her a weak thumbs-up as she left, mumbling something about ferrets and stress.

Then it was just you and Kevin.

He pulled a chair closer, settling in, still watching you carefully.

You raised an eyebrow. “Gonna stare at me all night?”

“…I can tell you a joke.”

Oh no.

You groaned, already regretting everything. “Kevin, no—”

He ignored you. “Why don’t skeletons fight each other?”

You turned your head, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Kevin.”

“Because they don’t have the guts.”

You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a pained wheeze. “Please stop.”

Kevin almost looked pleased with himself. “You’re smiling.”

You wanted to be annoyed, but you couldn’t. Not really. Because for all his bad jokes, all his stubbornness, all his silence and hidden thoughts

Kevin had stayed.

#yandere x reader #yandere #honkai impact 3rd #hi3rd #kevin kaslana #honkai impact x reader #heliosluckyegg

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tateypots · 3 months ago

Text

The Gift

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader, Dark!Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word count: 5.2k (oops)

A/N: Part 9 of Collared. Same as before, it's dark so please heed the warnings and skip if it's not for you.

Moodboard is for aesthetics only, reader is not described beyond having boobs and a vagina. Please refer to this post for more info on the series mooboards.

Summary: Joel is jealous of your growing relationship with Tommy and hatches a plan to rectify the situation.

Warnings: Non-Con, dark Joel, dark Tommy, kidnapping, daddy kink, uncle kink, restraints, stockhom syndrome, oral (m!receiving), praise kink, fingering, unprotected piv, manipulation. Let me know if I missed anything.

Part 8 | Part 10 Series Masterlist

You had dived into the book straight away, not even bothering to read the blurb on the back to find out what it was about. You didn’t care, you were just thrilled to have it. That Tommy had listened to you and gotten you something you’d asked for. Not something that you needed for your survival, something to make you more comfortable. Something to make you happy. Something that meant that he cared.

You were already 3 chapters in when the door opened and the man himself entered. You launched yourself off the bed and threw yourself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as your face smooshed into his shoulder.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you chant as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in tight to him.

“Did my princess like her gift?”

“Yes, thank you so much Uncle Tommy.”

“This mean I’m forgiven for the other day?”

“I already forgave you for that,” you giggle, turning your face to look at him. He boops you on the nose and responds, “you’re a good girl princess. Sorry it ain’t the type of book you really like, the last owners don’ seem to have been big on reading, it was the only one I was able to find so far.”

“That’s ok Uncle Tommy, it’s actually pretty good and I’m grateful to have it.”

He kisses your forehead, his hands tracing patterns up and down your back. “Yeah? You maybe want to show your Uncle Tommy how grateful you are?”

You bite your lip and nod. And for the first time since you got here you think you might actually mean it.

“Good girl, on your knees then.”

You slide your way down to your knees, your hands trailing his body as you go. He likes that, groaning and shuddering beneath your touch as his eyes devour you the whole way down.

You’ve just settled on your knees, hands braced on his thighs as the door opens again, Joel meandering in, halting when he sees you there. He doesn’t say anything, just grunts and walks to the fridge, pulling things out to start making lunch.

It feels like a slight. A rejection. He’d enjoyed watching this morning, why doesn’t he want to now? Your body burns with it. You feel the prickle of tears behind your eyes and you take a deep breath, willing them away. This isn’t about Joel. This is for Tommy. Sweet Tommy who has done something kind for you. You try to reclaim the feeling of wanting this, how good you had felt moments ago but it slips through your fingers, evading all your efforts as you listen to Joel shuffle around behind you, unable to shake the sting of his indifference.

“Go on and take him out princess,” Tommy breathes out above you. You follow his commands, struggling with the buckle of his belt, out of practice with such things now. They normally undress themselves and you haven’t had to bother with clothes since you got here. You pop open the button of his jeans and pull the zipper down, hands shaking as you reach in to grab hold of his already hard cock.

He moans at the contact, head tipping back in pleasure. You pull him out and watch as it bobs in front of you as you pull his pants and underwear further down below his balls.

He tips your head up with a finger under your chin, his thumb gently stoking over your cheek, “just wanna see what you remember from this mornin’, take it steady and I’ll guide you if you need it ok?” he instructs.

“Ok,” you whisper, nodding your head in case he didn’t hear. You take a deep breath before leaning forward and placing a kiss on the tip of his dick and swiping your tongue around the head. A little firmer, more sure this time. Less afraid of it. Less afraid of hurting him. You revelled in his groans of pleasure, chest heaving as you took the head fully into your mouth.

“That’s it good girl, doin’ such a good job.”

You started to bob up and down, taking more and more into your mouth each time. You belatedly remembered to bring your hand up to grip the base of him, remembering his hand wrapped around yours and trying to replicate the pressure. It still didn’t feel right though. And then it hit you. It was too dry, your movements not as smooth without the aid of lubrication. You didn’t really want to spit into your hand. So you hesitantly withdrew from his cock and moved your head round to the side of it before wrapping your lips around it at the root as best you could from this angle, running your tongue along the base, salivating over his dick and running your mouth upwards towards the tip, careful not to catch his sensitive member with your teeth. You placed another kiss on the tip and repeated what you had done on the other side.

“Goddamn princess,” he grunted as you wrapped your lips and hand back around him and got back to your steady bobbing movements, going further than you had managed that morning but still only taking about half of his length in your mouth, “you’re a fuckin’ natural.”

You bloomed at his praise, your confidence soaring. His hand wrapped around your head, not pushing or forcing, just there. You tried to remember back to the morning. Your memories were somewhat cloudy, taken up by the pounding that Joel had given you. The memory of that has your pussy clenching and you moan around Tommy’s cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses as his hips buck forward as the vibrations wash over him, shoving another inch of his cock into your already stuffed mouth. You gag and panic, pushing back on his thighs. He retracts fully as you cough and splutter. He bends down and holds your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him, his eyes big and apologetic, but before he can say anything a gruff voice sounds from behind.

“You ok baby?”

You cough a little again, and nod slightly at Tommy who visibly relaxes. You turn your head towards Joel, “I’m ok Daddy, just panicked a little is all.”

“You want to stop?”

You shake your head, “No, I -,” you turn back to Tommy, “I want to keep going.”

Tommy positively beams at you. He’s so handsome when he smiles, it steals your breath a little bit. He leans in and kisses the tip of your nose gently, and again in the centre of your forehead. You give him a little smile in return and settle back on your knees and wrap your lips back around his cock. You bob your head, hollowing your cheeks and matching the rhythm with your hand.

You notice Joel now, hovering just behind Tommy and it makes you want to explode, knowing his eyes are on you. You feel your arousal build, feel it start to drip own your thighs. You put in more effort now, knowing he is watching. You’re unsure whether you’re trying to show off or trying to make him jealous. Maybe it’s both.

You try to remember back to the morning once again. What was happening when Tommy had reached his peak… you fight through the fog in your brain and remember; his hand was on his balls.

So you summon your courage and reach your free hand up to fondle his balls. They feel strange in your hands. Squishier than you thought they’d be. It strikes you how vulnerable he is like this. You could hurt him. Bite down hard while squeezing the life out of his balls. You remembered from school how boys would crumple if they were hit in the testicles. You’d never do that to Tommy but you filed the information away for future reference and hoped you never needed it.

You run your fingertips over his balls oh so gently and pick up the pace of your bobbing head, drawing a litany of curses out of Tommy, who is visibly straining from the effort of not thrusting into you.

“Holy shit princess, you’re gona make me come,” he rasps out, panting now as his climax builds. “You’re gona take it in your mouth. You ready for your first taste of cum, sugar?”

Your eyes flit to Joel who raises a finger to his mouth, silently shushing you. You don’t know why he doesn’t want Tommy to know that he’s already fed you his cum but you simply flick your eyes back to Tommy and mumble an “mmmhmmm,” around his cock, preparing for another buck of his hips that with monumental effort he manages to control this time.

He pants and grunts as he floods your mouth with his salty spend. You don’t know what to do so you still, dropping your hand from his balls but leaving the one wrapped around his dick as you swallow around his cock.

He sits in your mouth for a moment after the final spurt, his breathing heavy and letting out content little hums.

“Did such a good job princess, learning so fast for me,” he praises as he finally pulls out of your mouth. He leans down and kisses you on the crown of your head “Don’ know what we did to deserve you princess, I really don’t.”

He smiles at you and helps you to your feet. “I’m gona go clean up.” He wanders off to the bathroom as Joel approaches with a damp cloth and wipes the remnants of spit and cum off your face and chest. He throws the cloth into the sink and then cups your face in his huge bear paw.

“You’re a good girl baby,” you know he’s not referring to your blowjob skills, “our little secret ok?”

“Ok Daddy,” you agree and he smiles at you, gently rubbing your cheek and it’s so tender you think your heart might burst. You don’t care why anymore, all you care about is that keeping this little secret makes him happy. And you know you’d do anything to make him happy. So when he sits at the table and hauls you into his lap without warning you simply giggle and snuggle into him, always content to be in his arms.

///

Joel kept a watchful eye on your training over the next few days. Watched as you learned to take Tommy's cock further and further down your throat. You were such a good girl, listening to his instructions and never complaining. And Tommy was displaying more patience than Joel had ever thought possible. He'd expected by now that his brothers resolve would have broken and he'd have rammed himself in to the hilt and fucked your face whether you were ready to take him or not.

But he'd seen the shift in the both of you ever since Tommy gave you that damn book. You still preferred his touch, of that Joel was certain, never giving yourself over to Tommy the way you did to him. But outside of the sexual you had become much freer with Tommy, conversation flowing easily, your laughter filling the cabin as he teased you. And Tommy lapped it up, always eager for your attention. Joel hated it. You were his.

“Fuck, her mouth man. It’s fuckin’ heaven,” Tommy tells him for the umpteenth time. “She’s learnin’ so quick. Ain’t gona be long until it’s time for you to eat your words, once she’s given you the best damn blow job of your life, few more days and I think she’ll have it.”

Joel just grunted in acknowledgement and carried on mucking out the goats. He was inclined to agree with Tommy and that was souring his mood further. This morning when he’d come into the main room he’d found you on your back, head hanging off the side of the bed with Tommy’s cock down your throat. Tommy was slowly pumping into you, moaning and groaning like he was in ecstasy, his hands groping and kneading your tits. He could see the outline of Tommy’s cock moving in your stretched throat. The thought of how much more prominent that bulge would be when it was his cock in your mouth was nearly enough to have him jizzing into his boxers.

He had to do something. Had to stop this getting any worse. Going 24 hours without you was unthinkable, never mind needing to make sure you two didn’t use that time to further build up your bond. He wasn’t supposed to be the one on the outside.

He pondered on it while he worked. This had all started with that damn book. Well Joel could give you gifts too. Another book was the obvious choice but that seemed lazy to him. He didn’t want to just jump on Tommy’s bandwagon. And he hadn’t come across anymore books anyhow. He thought back to all the conversations he’d had with you over the last few weeks, filtering through all the things he’d learned about you. And suddenly it hit him.

Trying to suppress the grin that was itching to break out over his face he told Tommy he was going in for a break. Tommy waved is acknowledgement and carried on with his task. When he entered the cabin, you were lying on your front on your bed, nose in that book. Seeing you in that position immediately put ideas in his head. But that had to wait.

You looked over to him, face puzzled as he headed to his room rather than over to you.

“I’ll be out in just a minute baby,” he told you as his bedroom door closed behind him. He got down on his knees and reached under his bed to pull out a box. It had in the contents of the room that he’d haphazardly thrown in when he and Tommy had claimed the cabin for themselves.

Once he’d retrieved his treasures, he opened his door and walked over to you. You looked up at him confused as he stretched out his hand towards you. You took it and climbed off the bed. He led you into the centre of the room and stood you by the dining table.

“Hands over your eyes baby, no peeking, Daddy has a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” you ask with a little smile, picking up on his excitement.

“Yep, cover those eyes baby.”

You do as you’re told placing your hands over your eyes and closing them for good measure. You hear him go back into his room and return. You hear him deposit some items onto the table and you bubble with excitement.

He comes back over to you, places a soft little kiss on the back of each hand before pulling them down. He chuckles a little when he sees your eyes were closed behind them.

“Always such a good girl for me. Open up those pretty eyes for me baby.”

You do as you’re told, only to be met with a view of his solid, flannel clad chest. You look up at him and he smirks before stepping out of your way. Your eyes fall to the items on the table and you squeal with excitement. A boombox, some headphones and little pouch full of CDs.

You fling yourself at Joel, wrapping your arms around his neck and he uses your momentum to pick you up and spin you round in a circle, getting you both tangled in your chain in the process.

“Thank you Daddy, thank you so much,” you pepper kisses all along his cheek and jaw as he manages to untangle you both.

“You like it?”

“I love it Daddy, thank you,” you murmur into his skin, “but what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion baby. Just remembered you tellin’ me how much you used to love listenin’ to music and dance in your room and then I remembered that I had this stashed away. Thought you might like it.”

Tears are falling from your eyes before you even know what’s happening. You cling to him once more and bury your face into his flannel, so overwhelmed.

“Hey now, what’s all this?”

“J-just, s-s-so h-happy Daddy,” you sniffle into his chest, the fact that he’d remembered that stupid conversation and wanted to give you something to remind you of happier times knocking the breath clean out of you.

“Oh baby, you are the sweetest, most precious girl,” he tells you, wrapping you up and holding you close to him, swaying you gently. “I want you to be happy baby,” he whispers in your ear, “I want that so much.”

You squeeze him tighter before looking up at him. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, so close to his lips it sends a zing of pleasure right through him.

“Can we try it Daddy, can we listen to something?”

“Course we can baby, you gona dance with me?”

“Can we Daddy, really?” you ask him, bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement.

He chuckles and smiles at you, swept up in your enthusiasm. “Yeah baby, we really can. I’ll get it set up, you choose a CD. Might not exactly be your taste but there’s plenty to choose from.”

You flick through the little pouch as Joel plugs the boombox in by your bed.

“Whitney Houston!” you declare pulling the CD out of the pouch. “My mom loved her, we used to listen to her CDs in the car! Can we have this one Daddy?”

“Course baby, good choice.”

You put the CD in and the first few beats of ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ resound from the dusty speakers of the boom box. Joel rushes into his room and returns with the key to your collar, carefully removing it and throwing it on the bed before pulling you into him and spinning you round. You laugh and sing along as he spins and twirls you, always pulling you back into him and swaying you right to left before going again.

It’s the most fun you’ve had in years and by the time the song ends you’re out of breath, giddy and feeling lighter than you have since your mom died.

You take a moment to really admire Joel’s face, his eyes are twinkling and his smile softens his face so beautifully. You trace your fingers over his lips, wanting to feel his smile beneath them, eager to drink it in and commit this moment to memory as best you can. He kisses your fingertips as they ghost over his mouth and suddenly you’re feeling breathless for another reason.

His pupils dilate and you feel him start to harden against you.

“On the bed baby, lie on your tummy.”

You kiss his cheek then rush to obey, lying on your front, propped up on your elbows so you can watch him undress. He shucks his clothes as quickly as he can and turns off the boombox as he climbs onto the bed. You look over your shoulder at him as he spreads your legs and settles between them. He’s never taken you like this before and you’re not sure what to expect.

He takes a moment to admire you, running his hands over your body, gently squeezing your ass cheeks as he goes. He directs you to fold one of your arms and rest your head on it before slipping his hand between your legs, groaning at how wet you already are for him.

He drops a finger to your clit and starts to rub it drawing soft moans from you. He slips a finger inside you and gently starts to pump. He loves the way you squeeze his finger so tight, how your pussy always rebounds no matter how much he stretches it out.

“That’s it, good girl. You like my fingers baby?”

“Yes Daddy,” you tell him breathily, already drowning in pleasure, “feels so good.”

He slips another finger in and you gasp at the stretch. His fingers speed up, pumping and rubbing you faster. Your hips buck and you grind back onto his hand.

“That’s it baby, fuck yourself on Daddy’s fingers, take what you need, so fucking good for me.”

You groan at his words and grunt when he adds a third finger. You’re grinding back on him fully now, no shame in your movements as your hips roll against his hand. You feel it building within you, that unbeatable pleasure and you chase it with all you have.

You don’t expect the swift slap to your ass, the sting quickly receding to pleasure that has your pussy clenching around his fingers and the coil snaps as you come with a shout of “Daddy!!” It’s the sweetest thing Joel has ever heard. He works you through your orgasm until he feels your body slump.

He gently removes his fingers from you and hear the smacking sound of him sucking them clean.

“So fuckin’ sweet baby. Taste so delicious.”

You offer him an agreeable hum in response, too boneless for anything more.

He pushes your thighs further apart with his knees and settles between them. He leans over you, in almost full contact, propping his weight on one forearm to avoid completely crushing you. You feel the heat of his body radiate against yours, skin on skin and you fucking love it. It feels so intimate to have this much contact with his body as he slowly sinks his dick into your pussy.

You’re both moaning as he slips further and further inside you. His free hand grabs yours and links your fingers together. He lets out a little huff as he finally bottoms out.

“Perfect. My perfect fuckin’ girl with a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he rambles as he slowly thrusts in and out of you. “Always take my cock and my fingers so good. Fuckin’ flawless for me ain’t you baby? Huh? Tell me.”

“Yes Daddy, I’ll always be good for you, ohhh, f-fuck!” you moan.

He continues his rhythm, thrusting slow and deep. It’s so fucking sensual and erotic as he kisses you softly on your face and neck and shoulders and squeezes your hand every time he plunges into you, groaning in your ear. You can already feel yourself on edge. He’d never taken you like this before and it felt unreal.

“Oh fuck, your little pussy feels so fuckin’ good wrapped around me, s’like heaven baby. Can feel her flutterin’, she gettin’ close? This sweet little pussy gona cream all over my cock?”

“Ugh, yes Daddy,” you manage to grunt out, straining under the weight of the pleasure you feel.

“Yeah she is, gona milk me dry ain’t she baby. She wants my cum don’t she, she’s hungry for it.”

“Ooooooh Daddy,” you cry out as his thrusts get more forceful but still in that slow, languid pace. His sweet gift, the way he danced with you and now the tender way he’s fucking you has your whole body pulsating with pleasure. Your feelings for him swell to something almost uncomfortable, like they’re too big for your body to contain. All your doubts and hesitations are forgotten in the moment, all you can think of is him. Pleasing him, making him feel good.

You start to grind your hips back into him, meeting his thrusts and you choke with how good it feels.

“Oh fuck baby, that’s it. Just like that,” he praises as he starts to pick up the pace a little, his balls catching on your clit with every thrust, making stars dance behind your eyes. “Cum for me baby, come all over my cock.”

And you do, your body seizes, your pussy clenching and pulsing around him, a gush of arousal coating his dick and balls. Your thighs try to close, squeezing around him. He doesn’t try to push them back open, just enjoys the softness rubbing against him as he continues to move against you.

You make little mewling sounds as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He fucking loves those noises and his dick twitches deep within you.

He squeezes your hand a little harder as he starts to chase his own orgasm, his hips now moving with fury against yours. You choke as you feel him slump onto you fully, his body now wholly connected with yours, the only gap when he retracts his hips before slamming back into you.

“Oh God baby, takin’ it so good for me, gona make me come. You want it baby? Tell me you want it.”

“Want it Daddy,” you slur out, wholly drunk on the pleasure coursing through you.

“What do you want baby? Tell me, beg for it.”

“Hnnnnhhh, your cum Daddy, want your cum, please, Daddy please!”

And that does it, he rams himself deep and starts to pulsate with a growl as he empties himself inside you. You feel the sticky warmth spreading within you and your pussy clenches around him again as you cum once more.

“Oh yeah, there she goes, this little pussy loves my cum don’t she, can’t get enough.” He lazily pumps into you, pushing the final few spurts of his cum as deep as he can while you moan in response.

He pulls out and rolls off you, rolling you onto your back and presses a long kiss to your cheek before nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You bring your hand up to lazily card through his hair and he hums against your skin.

You lie there for a few minutes, content in the quiet aftermath. He brings his hand up to your breast and idly starts playing with it. There’s no intention behind it, he just wants to feel them. Taking you from behind was a rush but he missed playing with your sweet tits. He thinks next time he’ll get you to ride him so he can see them bouncing in his face.

As you lie there you begin to build the courage to ask him something that’s been on your mind the last few days. He’s been so sweet to you so you don’t think he’ll mind your curiosity.

“Daddy can I ask you something?”

“Of course baby, what’s on your mind?” Joel replied.

“How come you don’t use my mouth like Uncle Tommy does?”

“Oh, does my good little girl want Daddy’s cock in her mouth? You like it baby?” he asks, now trailing kisses along your collarbone, the press of his plush lips against your skin leaving you breathless. You loved it when he was like this but it made it hard to concentrate on anything else.

A soft moan escaped you when you opened your mouth to reply, “oooh, I-I do like it Daddy. L-like seeing how much Uncle Tommy enjoys it. Don’t you think you’d like it Daddy?”

“Oh baby,” he said, propping himself up on his forearm so he was hovering over you, his hand abandoning your breast to swipe his thumb across your lips, “you got no idea how much I’d love to sink into this beautiful mouth, but I can’t baby.”

He pressed his thumb against your lips and they instinctively parted for him, taking it into your mouth and wrapping your tongue around it like Tommy had trained you to do with his cock earning you a groan from Joel.

“Why Daddy?” The question came out garbled around his thick thumb but he picked it up nonetheless.

“Daddy promised Uncle Tommy that he could teach you all about it. And he thinks he can teach you how to be the best cock sucker there ever was. He’s got so much faith in you baby and he says you’re doing so well.” You preen at the praise, hearing that Tommy is pleased with you making you tingle with excitement as you continue suckling on Joel’s thumb.

“And well Tommy made me a bet that when he thinks you’re ready, you’ll give me the best blow job of my life baby. And watching your progress, I think he might be right.”

It’s your turn to groan this time, praise from Joel never failing to make you body sing and your clit throb.

Knowing full well what he does to you, he pulls his thumb from your mouth and moves it to your clit, rubbing soft circles into it, knowing you’ll still be sensitive. You moan and groan and chase his thumb with your hips until you’re coming, clenching around nothing.

“Hmmm good job baby,” he tells you, sinking his head to rest on your chest, holding you close like he knows you like.

Your chest heaves beneath him as you recover from yet another orgasm, his head moving up and down with every breath you take and he listens to your heartbeat begin to steady. Your skin is so soft against his, warm and soothing. He could stay like this all day, wrenching orgasm after orgasm out of you. But he has work to do and he’s already been gone too long. Reluctantly he peels himself off you and climbs off the bed.

He takes it slow getting redressed, waiting to see if the seed he planted takes root. Once he’s finished buttoning his flannel he can’t resist sitting back on the bed for one last snuggle. He lies his top half over you and nuzzles into your neck again, bringing his hands up to caress your sides.

“Hmm. Always so hard to leave you baby.”

“I don’t like it when you go Daddy.”

He sighs. “I know baby. But I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

You squeeze him a little tighter before letting go and he sits up and puts your collar back on before getting up and moving towards the door.

“Daddy, what did you mean when you said Uncle Tommy made you a bet?”

Bingo.

He turns back around to you. “Well like I said he bet me that if I let him do all the teachin’ that the first time you blow me it’ll be the best blow job I’ve ever had.”

“Oh,” you replied, head reeling as it so often is these days, torn between pride that Tommy has so much faith in you and an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach about how they can be so blasé about something like that. That no matter all the progress you think you’ve made, they still view you as nothing more than their plaything.

He can almost see the cogs turning as you contemplate what he’s just said.

“What were the terms?” You ask quietly.

He’s donning his coat as he replies, “whoever wins gets you to themselves for 24 hours. I’ll be honest baby, I really wanted to win, wanted it more than anythin’ but you’re doin’ so good with your trainin’ I think I’m cooked. Gona be so hard not to be with you for that long baby but I know you’ll have fun with Uncle Tommy.” And with that he walks out the door, savouring the stunned look on your face.

///

@aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @old-logan-and-old-joels-slut @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @axshadows @justajoelsreader @ahintofkiwistrawberry @guelyury @rosebuds-and-moonlight @koshkaj-blog @shivispunk @ivoryandflame @tammythr @magpiepills @deviscave @megjohnston23 @pedrosgrogu @pedge-page @guelyury @lamartell @thejoywillburnoutthepain @xoxabs88xox @teapartydreams

#collared fic #dark!joel miller #dark!tommy miller #tw noncon #tw kidnapping #tw stockholm syndrome #smut #joel miller #pedro pascal

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777heavengirl · 8 months ago

Text

the one with the family matter

sirius black x reader ! - 2,157 words masterlist bags masterlist A/N: Early chapter today! i usually post rlly late at night... what would you guys prefer? morning/afternoon like this one/the usual night update? lmk <3

Most mornings at 717 were nothing short of blissful. Or at least they used to be.

More often than not Sirius and you got lost in your cloying domestic bubble. The early morning hours passed by you like the rest of the world simply did not exist. By the time you crawled out of bed, which wasn't late by any means, Sirius had been up for a while. He rarely slept, properly that is, always restless and full of adrenaline. Sometimes he'd make breakfast, or fetch something from a nearby bakery, greeting you with a smile and teasing nicknames. His record player hummed songs that were engraved behind your tongue, the repetition of them causing them to be forever in your mind. Like a reflex. Other times, when you could tell he felt poorly, dragged by the weight of his family and his nightmares— you'd wake up to an empty apartment and a note on the counter. The neon pink Post-it from the muggle office supply store stuck to the handle of your coffee cup.

At Prongs's!

or the more vague,

On a ride!

He always signed it off with an - S, his quick slanted cursive and the small smiley face he always drew on it made the corners of your lips twitch up. Every morning your mug with coffee, prepared the exact way you liked, waited at the corner of the table, regardless of his presence. A heating charm on it so it'll never grow cold.

Recently, this pattern had vanished. When you had work you’d still do it, make his coffee, two sugars with cream, and stick a post-it on the handle. Sometimes with a happy face drawn right in the middle of it, other times with a small message,

don’t forget to help James build the baby’s crib!

picking up pastries for tonight!

have a good day!

But they largely went unmentioned, but Sirius didn't say much these days anyway. You both danced around it, good mornings and the rare good nights were said but not much else, there was no baking together on your off days, no impromptu trips to the fresh market, no rides on the tube clinging to each other. No, you went alone now, and when he did go with you— only when the apartment was finally completely barren of food, the two of you apparated in and out. Silently.

On your off days when your eyes watered looking at his closed door— you didn’t even know if he was in there or not— you’d go knock on Remus and Peter’s door. Sometimes only one of them would be there, sometimes both of them, they’d greet you with tea, or sweets, and Peter would ramble on about his shitty lower-level ministry job while stuffing you full of cookies, Remus would talk to you about his mother’s swaying health and how his job at the muggle supermarket was actually kind of enjoyable, how he was trying to quit smoking, but I keep smoking the whole bloody pack the closer it gets to the full moon. Other times, Remus would see you through the peephole and knock back, Sirius is there. You’d slink back up to your apartment without further refute. You missed him, dearly, you hadn't woken up to a coffee or a note since you told him about your job. You didn’t dare say anything.

The two of you still sat, on opposite sides of the couch now, to watch your soaps every other night. It was the small bit of comfort you held onto. Sometimes he left halfway through, like water slipping through your fingers.

You kept finding empty cigarette packets all over the apartment.

It felt kind of silly, you didn't understand what his problem was. He should be happy he isn't pouring his entire trust fund down the hatch with you. He was disowned, whatever money was in his safe at Gringotts was it. No more. To be fair you had not a single clue about how much was in there anyway- but it really isn't any of your business.

This morning was one filled with his absence. You tried not to worry, but you couldn't help it, his absence feeling like an omen. The apartment motionless and cold, the way the air feels right before the rain. This morning wasn't any different, the darkness of the sky settling a gloom over you. You hugged the coffee close to your chest between sips, your fingers twirling the red marker as you completed the crossword on the Daily Prophet. You pondered calling your mom briefly or going down a floor to pester Remus and Peter— What use is it to live in the same buildings as your closest friends if you can't bother them? As you resolved to do just that, a harsh knock rang through the apartment. You faltered, Sirius had a key, not only that but he'd never knock that way. It was particular, heavy and urgent.

A second round of knocks broke through your thoughts, so you padded over to the door.

If you didn't know better you would've said it was Sirius. But you could see, even through the small opening of the peephole, their clear differences. You swung the door open.

"Oh- my apologies I must have the wrong place- good day" He was quick to do a quick bow and turn away.

"Regulus?" The younger boy's eyes widened, and there was a stutter in his step as he turned back towards your door. It was startling, to see him. They were so similar, the high cheekbones, the darkness of their hair. Regulus sported a white streak, combed neatly along with the rest of his short hair. You could hear Sirius through your thoughts, mommy's boy. It was uncanny, to look at him, the roundness of their lips, the way their brows twitched in confusion. His eyes were greener but not any less piercing than his older brother's. They missed the warmth that emanated from Sirius’s gaze.

"What are you doing here"

He opened his mouth and closed it quickly, piercing eyes analyzing your face as he finally figured out who you were. You tried not to take any offense.

"Are you looking for Sirius?" The boy simply nodded and approached the door as you motioned him inside. "He's not in right now but I can- just come in I’ll find him for you-"

"I'm sorry I thought this was where he lived" You motioned him to sit at the stools of your high kitchen table as you closed the door behind him, the wood creaking as he hesitated between standing and sitting. It was strange to see cold, quiet, and clean-cut Regulus, with his dark sharp tailored coat between the warmth of your house. Between the mismatched furniture and portraits on the walls. So out of place, but you supposed he and Sirius were always out of place when compared to one another.

"He does, he's just out" You gave him a sweet smile as you started brewing some tea, marking the phone Lily insisted on installing in their house, and pressed your ear against the phone's receiver.

"Hello?" Lily's crackly voice came through as she picked up, but you could hear Sirius and James chatting animately even through the static of the phone line.

"Lilykins please tell me my roommate is at yours… he has a visitor-" You stretched the cord as far as it could as you walked to get a mug out, the cable rolling back into its curls as you walked close again.

"Tell him it's urgent please" Regulus spoke up as you spoke, and you could hear it now, the small twinge of panic in his voice. His foot bounced sporadically as if he was reminding himself he shouldn't bounce it but would still forget to stay still.

"Urgent matters apparently-"

"Get him out of my house please- I don’t know what lover’s quarrel you two are going through but hash it out soon will you? my sister's coming soon and I need to clean-" You chuckled, forced and breathless, and ignored the fact that she knew something was wrong between the two of you, you wondered what he had said about it. You didn’t ask. You bid goodbye and hung up the phone back in its holder. Regulus’s quiet dragged you back down, you could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your figure as if he was analyzing you. You pursed your lips as you worked on his tea, mulling over what you’d say to him, it wasn’t often he came around. Or ever. He had never been in your home.

You had met, if you could call it that, Regulus Black exactly two times.

One was at school, during your sixth year when Evan Rosier’s taunts finally broke through Sirius’s hard facade and he finally swung at him. It wasn’t pretty, the long-haired boy pinning down Rosier as they both landed blow after blow at each other. Both you and Regulus pulled your respective friends away, the boys bloody and bruised. It wasn’t much of an introduction nor did you even speak, but you could see even then the soft, blue state of Regulus as he looked at Sirius. Sad and alone.

It reminded you of Sirius when he was younger. Of when you first met.

The second time you saw Regulus Black was at graduation, right after Sirius handed you the matching key. Between bubbling excitement and clinging to each other, Sirius’s face broke, a flinty stare taking over. I’ll be back love, his lips pressed against your temple as he moved away. You could see him arguing with Regulus behind a pillar, mirrored expressions on their faces.

It was eerie, like watching Sirius through a funhouse mirror. The same but- not. Almost but not quite.

Reflections of one another, but neither measuring up.

“Can I ask what brings you here?” You poured the tea into his mug, bringing it over to him. His hands immediately wrapped around it and he took a sip.

“I’m afraid it's a private family matter-” you hummed in acknowledgment, brows raised as you asked:

“Thought Sirius wasn’t family anymore,” You didn’t mean to be hurtful, you knew how hard Sirius’s disownment had been on Regulus too. It was quite possibly the only thing Sirius ever spoke about regarding leaving his family. How heartbroken he was to leave his brother, how shattered Regulus had been too.

“Sorry that came off harsher than I intended-”

“No- you’re right, but I reckon he still deserves to know,” Regulus refused to meet your eyes, staring deeply into the liquid in the deformed pink mug you had made with Sirius sometime last spring when he insisted on taking a pottery class. Your skills weren't quite there.

The two of you stayed quiet for a beat, fighting the urge to ask again. Regulus fought not to tell you.

“Are you engaged yet?” You almost spit out your tea.

“W-what?”

“Did Sirius ask you yet? To marry him?”

“Sirius and I aren’t together-” You felt your cheeks warm, you were lucky if Sirius even spoke to you these days.

“Oh…” His expression paled, eyes wide as he tried to understand what you were telling him. “My apologies I just thought… never mind-” He looked away again, taking slow sips of the tea again, “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay…”

“I just- he’s always talked about-” The air crackled with a small crack and pop, interrupting Regulus, Sirius stood in the middle of the room now. Regulus stood up, the tea abandoned on the table as he faced his older brother.

“Sirius-”

“What do you want? How do you know I live here-” Regulus took a step back, a deep breath inflating and deflating his chest as he looked at you, and then back at Sirius. Sirius got closer, barely two steps away from his brother. Looking at them now, side by side, you could see the differences. Not physical, no in that aspect they were two sides of the same coin. But Sirius stood tall, proud, and defensive like he was made of iron like nothing could hurt him. Teeth bared, ready to bite his way through. Regulus stood the opposite, straight but restrained, almost as if ready to take a hit, arms behind him and clutching his wrist with white knuckles.

“May we talk in private?”

“I’ll leave-” You made to move,

“Stay put- No, just spit it out Regulus-” You could see the sadness crack through Sirius’s tough demeanor. You could tell from the red rim in his eyes, and the way he stood straighter, face raised ever so slightly. As if ready for a fight. You knew he could never physically fight his brother, but if Regulus stood in your kitchen any longer Sirius might break and cry.

You thought of calling James.

“Mother is dead… didn’t wake up this morning”

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

Note

the combo "they have to work together and they hit a realization on how its not too bad" + "fuck you" "when" w eddie pleeeasseeee

ty for requesting :D — the kids hatch a plan to get their favorite arcade workers to stop hating each other. it works out a lot better than they thought (enemies to lovers, 1.5k)

You wipe down a few grimy tables — all of which seem to be perpetually sticky at The Palace Arcade — with nothing but a damp cloth and a stubborn determination. You’re interrupted by a finger poking you expectantly in the back.

You look slowly over your shoulder to find Max Mayfield standing behind you. Her auburn hair is parted into two plaits, and her freckled arms are crossed firmly over her chest. She leads the pack of regular teenage boys that typically accompany her here, obviously meaning business.

“Street fighter?” she wonders vaguely, in the place of any actual greeting.

“Out of commission,” you answer in a monotone before turning back to the table in front of you. You keep scrubbing at the stubborn ring of dried soda until she taps you on the shoulder again. “What?” you say with a dramatic huff.

“I know you got it working again,” Max insists with an arched brow. “Just like I know Keith’s keeping it hostage in the back so no one else can play.”

Both statements are only partially true.

Eddie Munson and his self-proclaimed magic fingers (which you’ve begged him to stop referring to) managed to bring the dead machine back to life. Mostly. It lives primarily in the back room now, because there’s no use in bringing it out if it’s hardly alive. Keeping it to yourself, and away from the sticky fingers of middle school kids, is just a bonus.

You blink at the kids with a deadpanned stare.

Dustin Henderson, getting the sense that you’re about to shut them down again, decides to blurt, “We’ll help you wipe down the tables!” You meet his offer with an unwavering squint, wondering how far you can push him. He caves immediately. “And… clean the bathrooms.”

Lucas whips his head to the side. “Dustin!” he shouts.

“What?” the curly-haired boy cowers.

“It’s a deal,” you hum with a proud grin. Abandoning your bleach-stained cloth on the wiped-down table, you walk through the group of teenagers and towards the back hallway. “Follow me,” you usher unenthusiastically.

You find that the dead machine is still, in fact, dead when you burst into the back room with a gaggle of high schoolers behind you.

Eddie’s popped open the bottom compartment to try and bring it to life again. He lies on his back with the top half of his body swallowed in the machine, working on the inside wires with lanky, tattooed arms. The hem of his shirt rides slightly upward, revealing the softness of his stomach and the trail of hair sprinkled there.

With your senses partially delayed by the strangely pretty sight, you don’t catch the kids running out of the room until they slam the door in your face. You rattle the metal knob with an aggressive hand. It refuses to budge.

“Ugh— You little shits!” you shout at the closed door.

Eddie, startled by the sudden chaos, bangs his head on the machine when he sits up. “Shit,” he grimaces once he’s fully in view again. He rubs at the top of his skull and squints over at you. “What the hell’s going on?”

“They locked us in here,” you grouse.

“Who?” the boy wonders with his face twisted in confusion and very distant disgust. “Why?”

“You’re not coming out until you kiss and make up,” you hear Dustin Henderson instruct, though his lisp is mostly muffled through the shut door.

“When I get out of here, you guys are dead,” you threaten in a monotone to the out-of-sight teens. “You know that, right?”

“We’ll take that risk,” Lucas snickers.

You huff when you hear them shuffle down the hall again, leaning your weight on the locked door with your eyes fluttered shut. Eddie just watches you, still sitting in the same position on the vibrantly patterned carpet. “I’m confused…” he mumbles after a few seconds of heavy silence.

“Unsurprising,” you scoff.

Eddie laughs to himself. The boyish sound strikes nothing short of inhuman rage in your chest. An impossible fire to breathe through. “Well, you’re particularly bitchy this morning,” he lilts and rises from the ground.

“I’m supposed to be working, but instead, I’m stuck in here with you,” you deadpan. “So I think I’m allowed to be a little bitchy right now, Munson.”

“Well… I’m on break, so…” He flashes you a stupid pink grin as he reaches for the outdated Pacman machine, which has conveniently plated his PB&J. He plucks the sandwich from the napkin it sits on and takes a sloppy bite. Jelly smears along the corner of his mouth. Your face swirls with disgust at the sight.

You turn back around and bang at the door with a closed fist. “Alright! You can let us out now!” you yell, hoping someone can hear you. “This isn’t funny anymore!”

“Stop trying. It’s too late,” Eddie mumbles with his mouth full. “They’re long gone. Probably for the next several hours… Either until Dustin beats his Dragon’s Lair high score or until one of them gets home and thinks to themselves… ‘Wait. I feel like I forgot something…’”

He rambles mindlessly to himself while he tugs the brown crust off his sandwich. He pops the piece of bread into his mouth and flits his gaze back to you. He finds you swallowing down a smile. ‘Cause you refuse to let the freak make you laugh.

“Whatever. I’m not taking the fall for this,” you huff and shake your head.

You sit on the cracked pleather stool across the room from Eddie, in front of a deconstructed machine. The boy scoffs at your dramatics. “Shut up. Keith loves you. We both know I’m gonna be the one getting blamed for this shit.”

“Good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “This is your fault somehow.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. This isn’t any better for me than it is for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

Eddie downs the rest of his sandwich in another too big bite. “Getting locked in a room with the Princess of Hawkins High isn’t exactly a bucket list item for me,” he says through the mouthful, then licks peanut butter off the pad of his thumb. “It’s more of a waking nightmare, honestly.”

You try hard to stay composed. You know he’s just fishing for a response. He wants you to be angry, and the problem is it’s working. You break before you mean to. “Fuck you, Eddie,” you bite, eyes narrowed in a challenging squint.

The boy approaches you with a tightlipped smile. He peers at you beneath his lashes, half-hidden in his hair as he flashes you an innocent look. “When?” he quips.

He towers over you while you stay sitting, scowling up at him with an emotionless glare. “You’re insufferable,” you deadpan after a few long moments.

Eddie’s grin widens. “I know.”

“And I hate you,” you press, just to really drive it home.

You might be overcompensating. Just a little. Almost like you’re prefacing what you know you’re about to do. ‘Cause he’s close enough to kiss and too pretty for his own good. The proximity is maddening.

“Wanna makeout about it?” Eddie smirks.

You don’t humor him with a response. You just grab him by the neck of his Palace Arcade tee and drag his mouth down to yours. The kiss is full of tongue and teeth, passionate with hate and a lingering fury.

His lips are softer than flower petals and taste faintly of sweet jelly. He kisses you with his delicate mouth, hard enough to knock you into the broken machine behind you. He holds the wooden edge of it with one ringed hand and cradles the back of your neck with the other. The thing hits the wall every time his tongue swipes against your own.

His touch is achingly loud. The rattling of the door knob across the room almost goes unheard. You hear the comically loud squeal of rusted hinges and push apart from each other like you’ve suddenly caught the plague.

You swipe Eddie’s spit from your mouth with the back of your hand as Keith bursts into the room — with wide-eyed teenagers standing behind him.

“What the hell!” Eddie gapes, lips rosy and softly swollen.

“Sorry…” Lucas winces. “We thought we heard banging.”

“I told them not to bother you,” Max chirps knowingly from behind him.

“We were scared you guys we’re, like, actually fist fighting or something,” Mike confesses.

You rise from the stool, keeping several conspicuous inches between you and Eddie. You nod and pull your shirt down from where it had ridden up. “Well, we were actually, so…”

“Fist fighting?” Dustin echoes.

“Yep.”

“With… your mouths?”

You swallow hard. “…Uh-huh.”

Silence lulls over the tiny backroom, making it feel that much more suffocating. You decide to make your escape with a heavy sigh, shoving past the bodies in the doorway without so much as a look their way.

Eddie follows behind you — not because he’s on the same mission, but because your ass looks really good in those jeans.

“God…” Keith grumbles behind him, in his signature slurred monotone. “This is so coming out of your paychecks.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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zivazivc · 7 months ago

Text

Say hello to my bug eyed baby boy 🐛👀👶

He was in an egg since September but about a week ago he finally hatched! 😊😅 jk jk but it did take me this long to finish this plushie of baby Leslie that I can hold close and snuggle. 🥰🧡

In the last few days I took him out with me so he could explore the woods for the first time, and so I could take some photos of him for you guys (and me lol).

No I could not trim this photo set even more, do you have any idea how many photos I took?? and he's precious in all of them. 🥺

I don't have a sewing machine or any other special equipment so he's entirely handmade with a pattern I made myself by trial and error, but I did use two of my plush toys as reference to study how they're stitched together.

I was pretty limited with my material choice because I had to find everything in Leslie's colors or at least the closest I could get to his colors, and I've realized that they're not very popular colors. His hair sadly ended up being the most off, but I'm still happy with it.

His body is something like sweatshirt fleece but the fabric being turned the wrong way so that the soft fuzzy side is on the outside. But I had no luck trying to find sherpa fleece fabric that would fit his coat colors so his fur is all embroidered using a stitch called turkey work.

And his lil pickle dreads are made with the same technique as friendship bracelets, just that they loop around. I've made so many friendship bracelets in my time that this wasn't hard to figure out how to do lol. And in the end I also sewed shiny pearls onto them to act as sparkles, since I'm not a fan of glitter or sequins. 😅

And lastly his hair is made out of genuine hand dyed sheep locks! Wondering how to tackle the hair gave me the most trouble. I was thinking of sewing it together out of fabric, or tying together fluffy yarn in the style of macramé and other ideas I can't recall anymore, but either the idea didn't sound good enough or I wasn't able to find the right material to try to pull it off. In the end I stumbled on sheep locks kind of on accident while browsing etsy and the idea was just too tempting. They're the only part of him that I ordered online and I was really worried it wasn't going to be what I needed, or that I won't like the color once I see it irl, won't like the feel, etc. But I'm super happy with how it came out in the end. Yes it's much lighter in color and now he's curly, but I think it really suits him, and it feels soft like actual hair. 🥰

Some details from up close:

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v3nusxsky · 6 months ago

Note

Write the wandanat smut... for the sake of my mental sake I need your brilliantness (only write it if you want to)

Mommy’s toys 18+

*Authors note~ this one lives in my brain rent free. I’m so excited to give this idea from @wandaslittlebird and put my own spin on it. Also having a rough day so I had to reach into my wips to finish this off. *

Trigger warnings~ voyeur dom! Wanda dom! Nat x sub reader, voyeurism (new kink) edging, oral, strap on, sex toys, daddy Nat, mommy Wanda , degrading kink, praise if you squint?

Prompts~ see ask^^^^

Stumbling across voyeurism was never meant to affect Wanda this much. So much so it’s all she can think about. She knew her girlfriends would never be against trying something new in the bedroom but the possibility that Natasha or yourself might dislike this new found desire of hers still unsettled her. Wanda loved to play with you, that’s a given but something about having the power at her fingertips to control your pleasure just makes her feral. Focusing purely on watching every little movement as your pleasured by Nat under her commands. Even just thinking about it riles her up. That accidental discovery planting its strong roots of desire within Wanda refusing to let go.

Natahsa was the first one to notice the change in the witch. Subtle but to her trained senses she couldn’t miss it, you however remained oblivious. With you on a mission Natasha had the perfect chance to sit down with Wanda and discuss what was so evidently on her mind these days. Wanda couldn’t help but be relieved when Nat listened and even reminded her how much you love being guided through masturbation while they are out on missions. Neither you or Natasha would shame Wanda for wanting to explore and try something new. And it was from there that your loving wives hatched a plan to bring the desire to fruition.

Unknowingly you fell into their trap. Days stretching on where they let bratty comments slide, lulling you into a false sense of security. You continued to get bolder with each passing day, testing the carfully arranged boundaries in order to gain a slither of their attention. Both of your wives continued to ignore your bratty behaviour until Nat was called for a last minute intel mission. Wanda couldn’t help but give into her dominant side. Natasha would understand if she got you ready for the evening.

“Mommy” you whined again for fifth time in quarter of an hour. “Fine” you huffed at the silence that followed, “perhaps Carol would want me.” It was a low blow, you knew that. Wanda and Natasha are very protective of you, both having high levels of jealousy and dominance. “Brat” was all Wanda muttered in response before her magic reached out to restrain you. Red whips wrapping around your torso with a practiced ease. “Mommy! Let me go” you squealed in response with flailing limbs fighting against her tight magical hold.

“No.” A simple statement. One you weren’t expecting due to the previous comments being ignored. “Daddy” you whimpered pathetically continuing to squirm as her forest green eyes raked over your bound figure as she returned to your shared room. “Don’t daddy her dekta, you’ve been practically begging for this for days now, and now what do you say Nat, want to play with our brat?”

Magic provided the ease for Wanda to strip you bare with her mind and bind you to the bed. Fully on show for your lovers as the paid you no mind, wrapped in each others arms, lips entwining as you helplessly watched. “Welcome home Dekta” Wanda mumbled against Natasha’s lips, nimble fingers stripping her from her suit with a practiced ease. The way she would run her hands over the newly exposed skin was driving you wild. You want to touch! “Share mommy” you pouted before you even realised what you said. The pathetic whimper gained you a slither of attention as Wanda commanded Nat to shut you up.

Heaven. The way she plunged her skilled tongue into your aching core, the skill she had to trace intricate patterns on your throbbing clit always amazed you, her strong grip pinning your thighs open, allowing her to reacher deeper within you. Your slick covering her lower face as she ate you out like a starved animal. “Stop” Wanda demanded when your thoughts of cumming on her tongue got too loud. You weren’t to come till she said so. The annoyed whine you let loose when the red head removed herself from your aching cunt was magical. She should’ve recorded it.

“Here, use this on her, don’t let her come Dekta, I’ll reward my good girl if you can do this for me” Wanda murmured, handing Nat your favourite vibrating toy before bringing her in for another kiss, moaning as the taste of you seeped into the kiss before removing herself to sit on the chair on the other side of the room. “Put a show on for me baby. Show mommy how badly you want to come.”

Natasha is a skilled lover. There’s no doubt about it. The way she works you up so perfectly only to rip the pleasure away at the perfect time is maddening. Truly. The sounds clawing their way from your throat as you fought the magical bindings didn’t seem human. All while feeling the witches intense gaze on you. The way she was clearly taking in every little detail. If you had the upper hand you maybe would’ve commented she should take a picture. It would last longer. But right now the only thing you knew was the feeling of the vibration assaulting your puffy clit. “Please daddy! I wanna cum for you. Please daddy feel so good” you mewled feeling the beautiful pain of being on the edge once more. You just needed a bit more. A firm press of the toy would do. Only for the red head to remove everything instantly. “Fuck sake!” You practically screamed with frustration. This isn’t fair.

You couldn’t help but whine in frustration when you heard wands chuckling to herself and praising Natasha for a job well done .”Poor baby.” Wanda cooed teasingly, “Do you want daddy's cock, baby? Do you think you're ready for daddy to fuck you?" It didn’t occur to you, Natasha was being incredibly submissive to the witch, maybe you would’ve if your mind wasn’t clouded by the denial bestowed on you. “Hmm, I'll think I'll have daddy use the purple strap. The one with the- what did you call them- the 'mean ridges'? The ones that scrap against your special spot so perfectly?" Well you were fucked.

“And I think I want you on the bed just like this, on your hands and knees. I wanna watch those pretty little tears run down your face while daddy fucks you." Wanda freed your limbs before coming to position you where she wanted you, Nat seemingly following the instructions and began to strap up. The pure power play of Wanda being the only party clothed was certainly noted on your part. But the second you tried to pull at her shirt, she tutted at you like a disobedient puppy. “Leave it” was all she offered you before returning back to her seat, admiring your position as your chest heaved trying to calm down properly. She’d never seen you so riled up before from only one of them touching you.

“And don't even think about letting your arms give out. If can't see your pretty face, I'm gonna make daddy stop, understand?" She threatened as your arms began to shake with the weight of holding your body weight battling your desperation. “Wands, she’s leaking on the sheets” nat murmured eyes glued to your leaking pussy as she moved to find her place in Wanda’s scene fully strapped up. “Because she is a desperate whore for us Natty. Were you good for me? Hmm or do I need to check you set up right?” Being on show like this and being ignored wasn’t your favourite way to spend your time but if anything was clear, you were better to play along than fight back. “Did everything you asked Mommy” Nat teased back chuckling when you whined at the title.

“Go on Dekta, make her cry for me. Let mommy see her toys playing perfectly together.” Your new position allowed you to gaze into wands eyes as Nat pushed into your eager cunt. You couldn’t help but whimper, “daddy,” at the stretch she created. “Fuck so pretty, taking me so well Dekta” Natasha murmured appreciatively, eyes glued to watching you drag her deeper inside. “Please” you practically sobbed, desperate for more. Anything. Yet no matter how much you pleaded with her to move, Natasha waited for Wanda to demand it.

“Such a desperate slut, you haven’t worked out what’s going have you darling? Daddy won’t listen to you, she’s my toy who’s using my other toy for me. So be a good girl and take what we give you” Wanda muttered before nodding to her other lover. The way she slowly pulled out so just the tip of the faux cock was inside of your greedy little hole before slamming back into your warmth. “Oh Natty keep going our dumb little slut likes it rough” Wanda called chuckling as your mouth fell open into an “O” shape. The way her hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises as she drilled herself into you almost distracted you from watching Wanda’s hand sneak into the waist band of her trousers. Almost.

It didn’t take long for the pace to drive you insane, moaning like a common whore your arms gave out. “Out” she demanded and Natasha complied slipping from your messy cunt. “No no no! I’m sorry please no mommy” you sobbed struggling to push yourself back into position. Tears streaming down your cheeks at the continued denial. “Cry for me Dekta. So pretty when you cry for mommy. I did warn you. Cause a dumb little bitch can’t listen when she needs to be fucked dumb.”

This time there was no warning as she plunged into your core again, instantly falling back into her ruthless pace. You trained your gaze on Wanda, determined to follow her desire and enjoy the show. Your tears started to mingle with the slight drool leaving your mouth as you were pushed to the edge for whatever number it was tonight. “Please oh god mommy please make daddy make me cum. Wanna cum for mommy please” you sobbed, desperately wishing to get what you need. The orgasm you were given was nothing short of magical, your inner walls milking the dildo for all it was worth, Natasha grunting as she fell with you, continuing to dig herself deeper into you. Wanda was next, the sight and sound of her lovers enjoying themselves caused her to fall too, hips bucking against her own fingers. “Natty stop” Wanda murmured, taking in your absolutely spent body. The way you collapsed after riding the pleasurable waves was rather comical. “Want more” Nat grunted practically sulking as she slipped from your core, cock thickly coated in your slick. “Later, look at her Nat. She’s throughly fucked. Let her rest my love.”

Wanda gentled rolled you onto your back, stroking your sweat covered hair from your face, “can mommy clean our sweet girl up?” You knew you should reply, but all you could do is whine In response. So deep into bliss you forgot how to form words. Together your lovers worked on cleaning you up and settling in to bed, your head on Wand’s chest as Nat was the big spoon. “Good girl for us Yano that? Our best girl” was the last thing you remember hearing before sleep claimed you.

Word count~ 1884

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #wandanat marvel #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x you #wandanat x reader smut #wandanat x reader #wandanat #v3nusxsky daily presents

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callsign-swan · 9 days ago

Text

Bones

Chapter Two

An animal trainer, a palaeontologist, an archaeologist, a rich boy, and an animal behaviourist on an island full of dinosaurs. They're bound to fall in love, right?

Poly Squad x Reader

Chapter One

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd removed his hat and wiped his brow. It was so damn hot on the dig site, the prescription sunglasses covering his eyes both shielding his eyes from the sun and the dust surrounding him.

It was an unsuccessful dig, not allowing himself and Natasha to discover anything new. Just some bones, Sauropod bones that didn’t tell him anything he didn't already know about them. No, it supported his theories on their migration patterns for the paper he hadn’t yet released.

“Anything?” Natasha Trace asked as she walked over to him.

Bob shook his head and sat back on his legs. The team around him tried their best to keep the disappointment from their faces. This dig sight was supposed to hold so much more promise than this. Bob had expected a carnivore, a Carcharodontosaurus or something. But they had turned up with nothing.

No, the Sauropod bones had been something. They could still teach them something, could still help with the paper he was trying to publish. “This is still really cool,” Nat said as she pulled on a pair of gloves. She used her fingers to brush some more dirt away and carefully pulled the bones from the sand. “We’ll find out what it is and then work out what it can tell us.”

A sigh left Bob's lips as Nat pushed the bone back. Their team began to brush away the sand around the bones, trying to unearth what the dinosaur was.

Standing up straight, Bob brushed the sand away from his knees. “I’m gonna go into the trailer,” he muttered.

Natasha patted his shoulder. “Try not to be disappointed, Floyd,” she said gently and brushed the dirt away from his cheek. It was gentle and sweet, as most things between the two of them were. “We’ll find something good.”

Bob offered her a weak smile. He walked back towards the trailer he and Natasha had shared since the beginning of their dig. They usually shared a trailer; it made the dig cheaper. Once upon a time they slept on opposite sides of the trailer, but that had changed. Bob couldn’t remember when it changed, but he wouldn’t want it to go back to the way it was for the world.

As soon as Bob got into the trailer, he swapped his sunglasses for his usual glasses and opened up his laptop. As usual, a flood of emails came through. His sponsors wanting progress updates on the dig, another email from Tom Kazansky that Bob ignored, and an email from Bones.

Never before had Bob replied to Bones. The emails he received were always interesting, were always something he could reply to, but he never did. Opening a line of communication with somebody he didn’t know that well, when he didn’t have time to get to know them better, wasn’t exactly at the top of Bob’s priority list.

The criticisms he received from Bones were fascinating to read. Here was the thing, the evidence Bones had for her criticisms were based on ‘real life, in the field research’. As usual, Bones attached a photoshopped picture of a dinosaur. It was good work, someone who had enough time to read through each of his papers and photoshop a picture of a dinosaur in an open field. A new picture each time, too.

This time, there were several pictures of a Brontosaurus. Very good photoshop work, the Brontosaurus looking the exact same in every picture.

‘This is Bertha. After problems with hatching, I raised her from an egg. Her behaviour isn’t like many of the other members of her herd because of the way she is raised, so my research partner and I use her to compare to the other members of her herd. While raising her, I used your paper on the behaviour of Herbivores in the late Jurassic period.

I would love for you to meet my girl, Bertha, as well as see the other work I have done in the park. That is why I am officially extending an invitation to the both of you. Please find them attached to this email.

I hope to hear back from you.

- Bones’

Sure enough, there were two invitations to Jurassic Park attached to the email. One had his name on it, the other was for Natasha. It made sense. After all, the email was addressed to the both of them.

Bob kept looking at it, went back to look at the pictures. Bertha. She couldn't have been real, it wasn't possible.

He clicked out of the email from the mysterious Bones and clicked on the email from Tom Kazansky. Jurassic Park. Even looking at Tom's email, it couldn't have been real. But there he was, begging for Bob and Nat to attend, for their approval.

“Shit, Bob.” Natasha threw open the trailer door as she ran in. “Have you seen the pictures in this email?”

He immediately knew she was talking about Bertha. “They can't be real, Nat, but…” He trailed off, unwilling to admit it.

But Natasha knew what he was trying to say. “I think it is, Bob. And I think we have to go.”

“Nat.” His voice was soft, yet still full of warning. “What if this is a trick, a wild goose chase?”

She stared into his blue eyes, a frown tugging at her lips. When she first met Bob, she thought he was dorky. That hadn't changed, but it was something she had grown to love about him. They weren't together, free to fuck other people, but Bob had his own place in her heart, carved out just to fit him.

She didn't kiss the other people she fucked in the way she kissed him.

Stepping closer, she pushed her fingers through his hair, upsetting the way he had styled it (combed back to stay out of his face. He had been keeping it short while at dig sites, but Nat knew he preferred it to be long), and kissed him quickly. An attempt at reassurance. “What if it's not, Bob? What if it's real?”

Her hand was on his chest, over his heart. “We don't have to reply right now,” she muttered, feeling the way his heart beat beneath her fingertips. “Sleep on it.”

Bob nodded his head. “Okay,” he said, resting his hand over her own. “Decide in the morning.”

“Atta boy,” she whispered and kissed him again.

***

Bradley's arm was around you as you laid awake, staring at the window of the trailer. The stars seemed prettier on the island, shined brighter than they did back home.

You turned in his arms and pressed a kiss to his chest. Bradley stirred slightly, but he didn't wake up. He pulled you closer and rolled over, nearly rolling on top of you.

“Rooster,” you whispered, pushing at his shoulder. “C'mon, lemme go.”

His snores grew louder, as if he was making a point. You gave up, accepting your fate as a pancake. A pancake made by Bradley Bradshaw? You didn't mind that.

You glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. The time displayed something obscenely early, but you liked early. Without early mornings, there wouldn't have been enough hours in the day for everything you wanted to do.

“C'mon, Roo,” you tried again, smacking at his shoulder. “Let.” You pushed, trying to roll him onto his back. “Me.” He rolled more onto you, caging you in with his arms. “Go.”

“Fine,” he groaned out and rolled off of you. You took the opportunity to climb out of the bed. “If you hate my cuddling that much…”

You pulled a sweatshirt over your head and shoved your arms through the arm holes. “That isn't cuddling, Bradley. That's suffocating someone. Actually, in most countries I think it's called attempted murder.”

He lifted his hand, flipping you off.

Laughing to yourself, you pulled open the fridge. Provisions were running low, but that was fine. A shipment would be arriving soon. (That was the one problem with the park, keeping the kitchens stocked. The chefs had the difficult task of rationing everything so that it lasted until the next shipment came. A job you certainly weren't jealous of).

Bradley sat up in bed, hands behind his head and dinosaur blanket slipping down his chest. It could slip all the way off, there was nobody on this part of the island but you to see (and you'd seen it plenty of times before). “What's on the agenda for today?” He asked, eyes still shut.

He looked so pretty, so peaceful. You stopped your rummaging to stare at him. “I dunno,” you answered, entirely lost in the beauty of him.

He opened his eyes and you snapped out of it. Clearing your throat, you grabbed a yoghurt. “I might go down to the lab, see how the eggs are doing,” you muttered, rummaging through the drawer to grab a spoon.

Sitting on the end on the bed, you folded your legs beneath you and began eating. You licked the back of the yoghurt lid before folding it up and placing it on the chest at the end of the bed.

Bradley's hand touched your knee. “You're supposed to be having a day off,” he told you, looking at you with a stern gaze only an older man could accomplish. He wasn't that much older than you, but he sometimes felt like it.

You had started your job barely in your twenties, shipped off to a strange island when you were still so unsure of the world. Sometimes it was incredible to watch you, watch you demonstrate just how much you knew. To Bradley, it was incredible to watch how much you had grown since you first met.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I know,” you said, “and I wanna spend my day off in the lab. Reuben wanted to discuss a breeding programme.”

Bradley raised his eyebrows. “What has that got to do with you?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Everything, Roo.”

“Come back to bed, Bones,” he whined, hand moving higher. “Come deal with a different type of bone.”

You didn't mean to pull a face at him. “That was terrible, Rooster,” you said as you dumped your yoghurt carton and spoon in the sink. “Besides, aren't you showing that rich guy around today?”

He nodded, his face almost glum. You pulled on some trousers and underwear, climbing onto his covered lap to kiss his cheek. His boner was beneath you, begging for attention you wouldn't give. “Don't take him to see BB without me, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, a soft smile beneath his moustache as he pulled you closer for one more kiss. “Give me a minute to get dressed and I'll drive you to the lab.”

Bradley's version of getting dressed for drive you to the lab was a pair of grey sweats and a white vest. Not the usual hawaiian shirt he wore on his day off. He grabbed the Bronco keys, grabbed your bag, and led you out of the trailer.

Your legs were crossed as you sat in the Bronco, driving away from your trailers. They weren't situated too far from the park, just far enough to offer you a little privacy. The rest of the staff lived in these nice little apartments, but you and Bradley were perfectly content in your trailers. Nearly a year into your position you were offered an apartment, but one glance at Bradley had you turning it down.

He drove you through the park, around the enclosures. It was too early for morning feedings, so none of your animals were active. You relaxed into your chair, watching as the sunrise turned the sky orange.

He pulled up outside of the back entrance to the visitors centre. The park wasn't open yet, not yet full of screaming children getting in your way, but you still went in the back entrance.

“Thank you, Roo,” you whispered and leaned over to kiss him. As badly as he tried to pull you into his lap, to keep you there, you didn't let him.

He pouted as you pulled away and climbed out of the Bronco. “I'll see you later, Roo! Good luck!” You cried and headed into the visitors centre.

Even at this early hour in the morning, the lab was up and running. They started early, earlier than you, and finished so damn late. It was hard work, trying to recreate everything Charlie had done. As terrible as she was, she was a fucking genius.

“Bones!” You looked up as Reuben called your name.

You walked over to him, joined him at the eggs. Five in total, under the warm lights of the incubator. “What are they?” You asked as you dropped to your knees to get a closer look.

They were in very good condition, but the eggs Reuben manufactured always were. Synthetic eggs, made to incubate the embryos created in the lab. The entire process was truly fascinating.

“Raptor,” Reuben answered quickly as he took the temperature of the eggs and noted them down.

You stood up quickly. “Raptor? What do you mean, Raptor?” There were so many different species, you just had to hope he didn't mean…

“Velociraptor, yeah.”

The grin you had been wearing all morning fell. You loved your job, but you loved it when people listened to you. “Reuben, seriously? I told you a few months ago why this was a bad idea.” You looked towards his lab partner. “Mickey, tell him.”

But Mickey raised his hands in defeat. He was no use to you.

“You can't put new Raptors in with the girls!” You insisted. “They'll eat them!”

“You don't know that for a fact,” Mickey said as he took the clipboard from Reuben. “You've never tried to add to their pack.”

Your expression was unimpressed as you sat up straight. “Put one of these eggs in with them and see what happens. Because I'm telling you now, they'll eat them.”

“What if they don't, Bones?” Reuben continued as the lid of the incubator lowered over the eggs. “Imagine the studies you'll be able to do if the Raptors take on these eggs? Imagine Roy-”

“Rio,” you corrected.

“Imagine Rio raising a baby! She could be the most nurturing mother.”

“She'll eat it,” you insisted.

Reuben rolled his eyes. You knew exactly what that meant. No matter what you said, they were going to hatch these Raptors and put them in with your girls. And there would be carnage. “Just one egg, Reuben, please!” You tried. “Let me see if my theory is right before you put these poor babies in.”

“And, if you're right?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Feed the rest of the eggs to The Girls.”

They looked at you. It seemed like everybody in the lab was staring at you. This game had been played before, though, and they all knew how it ended.

“Fine,” he finally said. After pressing a few buttons, the top of the incubator lifted. “Just one.”

You took the egg closest to you and stashed it in your bag. “You're the best,” you said and kissed his cheek.

taglist: @daggersquaddoll @lc-birdie @lavenhaven

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syrup-scribbles · 25 days ago

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Once again making more aus, this one is met in their 20's JohnKory flavored, I'm calling it Crossed Paths AU Some info:

John realized his mistake and went back to the tree around a year after he left, found it empty, spiraled hard. He didn't go back to the Neverglade Trail and instead wandered the Hinterlands and tried to fill the awful void with short flings and trying to find some new goal in life, but still didn't let anyone close. He became more dull as time went on. It didn't help that he also had a few dud eggs (no baby in them, I need to expand on my egg lore later) during that time. UNTIL he crosses paths with this one bounty hunter.

He thinks the egg will be another dud but then! it forms a pattern, and hair, and is warm, and holy crap he needs to find that hunter guy again. Cue the next couple months scouring the land for Dickory, and does find him like a month before the egg hatches.

Dickory is all in on being around for this kid, and Hickory (who is a teen at this time) is excited to have a nephew, but right now Dickory is letting John bond with the lil guy because he didn't really when it was still an egg because he still had the fear it would somehow end up like the ones before. Poor lil guy is super fussy and upset because his egg wasn't properly bonded with but that gets fixed pretty quick, and John and Dickory shockingly fall into co-parenting super easily and maybe fall for each other along the way. ALSO Because John tells the bounty hunter brothers about what happened to the Pop Trolls, they keep their eyes and ears out for any news on survivors, which leads them to finding out about the small group holding up in an abandoned golf course... So when they head out there and discover Clay was alive, Clay wasn't exactly the warmest upon seeing JD again (despite being actually relived to see him but shush he's not letting JD know that) , then John drops the "I thought you were dead" bomb on him. To which Clay just pauses his rant when he notices how haggard and dull his older brother looks, and just tells him "you look horrible."

THEN. toddler jumpscare

Now to just find everyone else, and maybe find Branch before he completely loses hope that his brothers wont return.

#i went insane the past few days over johnkory and this happened #john dory you get to not live alone in the woods for two decades. and get some therapy #the bros all reunite well before movie 1 because i say so #their son still doesnt have a name #johnkory #trolls john dory #trolls dickory #trolls band together #trolls fankid #trolls fanart #trolls au #crossed paths au #dreamworks trolls #trolls

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kedreeva · 15 days ago

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I am curious... peafowl breeds seem to focus entirely on the colouration, which is understandable given what the bird is known for. But I was wondering, could other traits have been bred for? Cats and dogs, for example, have been bred for tameness and good attitude with humans, while chickens have been bred for very large and small sizes. Could a few generations of dedicated breeders make bantam or jumbo peafowl, or peafowl that take well to being pets? Is 'it's just not a priority trait for an ornamental animal' the only reason such things haven't been tried?

Peafowl don't have breeds; they have color and pattern mutations, but those are not breeds. If one color is bred to another, it doesn't produce an in between, it produces a wild type bird carrying the mutations.

Breeding cats and dogs for temperament ("tameness" is not something that can bred; taming is a type of behavioral training) is also not a breed trait. It's a part of domestication. Temperament breeding is something all people breeding domestic animals SHOULD be doing (even if that temperament isn't "sweet," breeders should be in control of the temperament of their animals), but it's often a trait that breeders, particularly novice breeders, do not have a handle on HOW to choose for it or what they're even looking at. With mice, I've seen even experienced breeders be unable to articulate how they pick temperaments. With peafowl, there are huge gaps in understanding behavior at all, much less what makes for a good temperament, partially because imprinting factors into so much of bird breeding, and it can hugely affect a bird's behavior, and mask the true, genetic temperament of the animal.

The only "breed" trait you've mentioned here is size- and that COULD be picked for, but most people again wouldn't really know where to begin, and don't have the patience to wait 3-6 years with large groups of peafowl to weigh and see who is the largest. And you WOULD need to wait likely at least 4 years.

You'd also want the ability to grow out groups of 30-50 birds that hatch at the same time to choose from to actually have a chance at selecting birds with an appreciable difference to breed with. With chickens, you can hatch 150+ individuals from a single hen in a year, and they'll be mature and ready to produce the next generation in under a year, meaning you can usually get 2 generations a year instead of 1 generation every 4 years. With peafowl, if you treat them poorly by forcing them to lay the whole season, you will get around 30 eggs at all from a single hen (and if you aren't forcing them to lay the whole season, you'll get at most 6-8 babies and more realistically 2-6), so you'd need way way more peafowl hens than you'd need chickens, to get the same group to choose from.

There's also housing to consider. You can keep 10 hens and a rooster in around 150 square feet (run and coop included), meaning it's easy to hatch 30-50 babies per week from that kind of group (or more likely for fertility and control, 2 groups of 1 rooster and 5-6 hens). For peafowl, you need 500 square feet + 100sq/ft coop to keep a trio (1 male, 2 hens) at the minimum ethical housing size. That's a HUGE amount of space, if you're trying to grow out groups, and a lot of care- to the point that breeding peafowl on that scale results in poor quality of life for the birds, in almost every situation. EVERY large scale breeder of peafowl - yes, even the ones I generally like - have this issue with their young birds, because they simply do not have the space/money to grow out large groups, and instead of not doing it, they do it anyway and the birds just start with less.

Which is all to say that most people just don't have the means or time/patience to make a "breed" of peafowl, or the knowledge of what to do to make it happen, and even if they had both, ensuring quality of life for the birds gets dicey the larger the operation is. There's also just not been a demand for anything like that; maybe people joke about wanting bantam peafowl, or jumbo peafowl, but no one has put their money where their mouth is. Even if they did, you are looking at a minimum 6-10 generations to see the sort of appreciable change that would go into making a new breed (and longer for test breeding and health testing etc), and unlike in chickens where that might only take 3-5 years, it would take 20+ years for peafowl people to even get to the low end.

So there's a LOT of reasons that hasn't been attempted by anyone, and is unlikely to be attempted by anyone that hasn't won the lottery.

#asks #anon asks #peafowl

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marlynnofmany · 11 months ago

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Names Chosen Carefully

I swung into the spaceship’s kitchen with plans to grab a snack before unpacking the bags from our latest supply run, but I paused. Coals was there showing Eggskin a screen of color swatches, and it didn’t look like a menu. Could have been something medical, since Eggskin handled both the feeding and the healing of the crew, though the conversation I’d walked in on said no.

“Vehicles are an option, but I don’t know what kind are popular there,” Coals said. He acknowledged me with a nod. “And an unfavorable skimmer model would be almost as bad as an activity that’s culturally iffy.”

Eggskin was nodding thoughtfully, tapping a claw against their lizardy chin. “The activities are probably easier to research. But I do think that either a generalized space theme or something referring to home would be the way to go.”

“Yeah, but which?” Coals asked with a sigh, staring at the handscreen. “Space might be too common, or trying too hard, and home stuff might not make sense to anyone there, including the kids.”

I must have looked like a confused dog, standing there with my head cocked. Coals took pity on me. “My cousin wants advice on what to name his clutch when it hatches,” he said, holding out the handscreen. Up close, I could see that each color swatch was scales. “This is their best guess about the likely colors.”

“Ohh,” I said. “Got it.”

Eggskin asked Coals, “Are they familiar with nearly-hatched eggs, and color distortion? Many new parents guess wrong.”

I reflected that Eggskin, whose full name was “Skin of the Egg that is Translucent and Ready to Hatch,” had probably thought about the concept pretty often. Their own scale color looked more like boogers than any egg I’d ever seen, but I’d never been privy to a Heatseeker hatching. I assume other colors would show through.

Coals nodded his brick-red snout. “They live near family. Plenty of chances to observe. And he’s been there for brainstorming names on the ol’ home planet, and his mate has too, but that’s not very helpful now.” He glanced up at me. “They just moved to a space station.”

“Are there not many Heatseekers there?” I asked.

“A few, but it’s a very intercultural place. That’s why they wanted my opinion, since I travel around so much. Thought I might have some valuable insights.”

I leaned against a counter, trying not to loom. “What have you got so far?”

Coals sighed deeply. “A lot of doubts. References to home could be great, but they might just be confusing to everyone. What kind of names would you expect to hear with these?” He showed me the screen again.

I was about to object that I was hardly an expert on Heatseeker names, then the palest one caught my eye and I laughed. “Humans would nickname that one Popcorn,” I said, pointing at the white-and-yellow image.

“Popcorn?” Coals looked at it. “What is—”

“It’s food,” I said. “A popular snack from Earth. I wouldn’t expect that to be anybody’s real name though; it’s much too whimsical and silly. Well. At least with my cultural background.”

Coals and Eggskin both looked at the colors without saying anything for a long moment. Then Coals turned the screen to me again. “Would humans of your background have food associations for the others too?”

“Well,” I said, wondering whether I was just hungry. “That one looks exactly like mint chip ice cream. Oh, and that one’s cookie & cream.” They really were; it was uncanny. “I didn’t know you guys had scale patterns with that many speckles.”

“You should see my cousin,” Coals said. “He looks like a starfield. His mate is a simple dark maroon, though. Between the two of them, the genetics are all over the place. What about these other three?”

I looked at the brown-with-red, the yellow-speckled-brown, and the deep purple. “Red velvet cake, dijon mustard, and plum. Or maybe grape. But that doesn’t make as good of a nickname. You aren’t actually going to suggest these, are you? Naming the kids after another planet’s food seems like everyone might expect them all to be familiar with that planet. Pretty sure a couple of those foods might actually be poisonous to you, too.” I flicked a glance at Eggskin, who was thankfully nodding in agreement.

“Naming a child after a toxic foreign food would do them no favors,” Eggskin said. “An adult might wear such a name proudly, but I would fully expect a youth to be pressured into eating their namesake at some point, especially if they lived somewhere it was readily found.”

I nodded too, looking to Coals.

“But,” Coals said. “It doesn’t have to be foreign food.”

I started to ask what he meant, then suddenly remembered a bit of cultural trivia. “It’s good luck to name spaceships after food, right? Does that go for people too?”

Eggskin chuckled while Coals stared intently at the colors. “It can,” Eggskin said. “It’s rather bold, though. An audacious claim that a set of parents can confer enough luck on all their offspring for them to always have food available. Very daring.” They looked at Coals with an amused expression, which Coals didn’t look up to see.

“That fits my cousin surprisingly well,” he said instead.

I smiled. “Are there Heatseeker foods that would fit these colors?”

“I can think of several.” Coals changed the screen to a text field and began typing. “This is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“Happy to help!” I said.

Eggskin suggested, “Be sure to remind them they should research any food they’re considering, and find out what associations their new neighbors are likely to have. Some things translate terribly.”

“No kidding!” I laughed, standing up and moving toward the snack cabinet. “I still remember the spaceships Worm Jerky and Raw Flesh.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #writblr #writeblr #science fiction

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macabr3-barbi3 · 10 months ago

Text

Hex: Smile Like You Mean It

guys I'm sorry I have no self control- enjoy my brain worms thinking that there needs to be a Hazbin/Dead by Daylight crossover (you can blame/thank @fraugwinska for encouraging me)

Tags: mentions of murder, blood and gore; brief mention of tentacles but not anything fun lol; vaginal sex; female reader

I have like two more parts planned for this fic specifically (and maaayyybe a little something planned for Halloween with my beloved Frau ❤️)

There was something weird about this new killer.

It took a while to notice the pattern- between the different trials and trying to repair generators and not get sliced to pieces or shoved onto a meat hook from the other killers- but once you got the idea in your head, it was impossible to ignore. You hadn’t mentioned anything to the other survivors yet, wanting to be sure before you brought it up and potentially pissed off all of the men and made them sulky and irritated in the other trials.

But it’s confirmed for you when the Radio Demon gives you a cheeky wave on your way out the exit gate after hooking Dwight, Gabriel, and Felix, his red eyes glowing in the darkness of the swamp and his antlers silhouetted by the light from the incomplete generators, having opened the gate for you as you were searching for the hatch.

He was sparing the women every chance that he could. The only time he even swung at one of you was if someone was trying to get him to drop one of the guys, and it was more like the batting away of a fly than him trying to inflict any serious damage. He would chase for a while before diverting or slipping into shadows to go after one of the men, he tutted disapprovingly when you dropped a pallet on his head, he would stand menacingly off to the side while you worked on generators, pleasant jazz in your ears in lieu of a thudding heartbeat. You had only been hooked by him one time, in a trial with four female survivors, and he had offered you a static-y “awfully sorry, my dear” as he pierced your shoulder, fading into shadows and giving Sable plenty of time to safely unhook you and heal you with her medkit. You all escaped- Nea even hung behind to find the hatch while the rest of you ran out the gate. When she returned to the fire she told you that she hadn’t seen a glimpse of him; the only sign that she wasn’t alone was the distant sound of jazz echoing across the farm.

You should have just accepted it. Told the other girls so you could coordinate and plan your trials when you arrived in them, so they all had some sense of peace in this hellhole. A killer that showed as much mercy as was possible in the Entity’s realm was a rarity- sure, every once in a while Ghostface would ease up and let everyone escape, enforce the completion of generators, encourage you all to help each other and drop pallets and cleanse totems. But the next trial he was always right back to merciless slaughter, like the generosity he had shown was just to change the pace a little, make things more interesting for himself, or maybe give himself something to be angry about the next time he faced the survivors.

But it burned in your mind. Why was the Radio Demon like this? Why was the Entity allowing it? You had just as little information about him as you did any of the other killers; some of them at least had a realm that they were linked to, that could provide some sort of clue. But with him there was nothing- he flitted between maps as trials changed, he never spoke to anyone, and he only went after the men when he could help it. The curiosity, the need to know consumed you.

So this time, when you spawn into the Racoon City Police Department, you work on the generators alone and avoid David, Nancy, and Leon as they run from the strange deer demon. A few minutes and some agonizing screams later, two loud booms ring out as Leon and David are sacrificed to the Entity.

Moments later, the exit gates open, spindly pikes coming up out of the ground to cover the generator you had been working on, and Nancy is at your side. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” she cries, her clothes stained in blood from trying to heal Leon before the Radio Demon downed him, and she’s pulling on your arm towards the gates.

“You go on,” you tell her. “I’m gonna try to find the hatch- I’ll see you back at the fire.” She doesn’t hesitate, only a single anxious nod before she’s off. As soon as you hear the vague humming of the hatch, you abandon the generator and search for the Hex totem- you know he has one, even if you don’t know exactly what kind of powers it grants him. But you do know that cleansing it, dismantling it, will alert him to your presence and hopefully save you the trouble of having to hunt him down.

You stumble across him before you can even really start searching for the totem- seated at a desk off the main room of the police department, sipping at a mug. “My my, how brave you are!” He says, without turning to look at you, the jazz that he emits soft and somehow soothing in the quiet of the building. “Your little friend has escaped now- why don’t you run along with her?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” you tell him, and drop yourself into one of the nearby rolling chairs as a bell rings out, signaling that the exit gates would be closing soon. One of his ears perks up- and you’ll have to tell Feng that they are ears, because everyone had been debating and she was dead set on thinking that it was just strangely styled hair- and he swivels the chair around to look at you, eyes trailing up and down your much shorter frame. “Why do you always let the women go?”

“Ha! I had wondered how long it would take for one of you to notice.” He smiles, teeth razor sharp and dangerous, reminding you that despite his demeanor and how politely he speaks and the antlers atop his soft and fluffy hair, he’s still a predator- chosen by the Entity for his bloodlust to fuel these forsaken realms and inspire fear. “I merely operate by my own rules, that’s all!”

“And the Entity is okay with that?”

He leans forward so suddenly you almost don’t move back in time, jerking away as he appears in your personal space. “She prefers sacrifices, but she feeds on the emotions,” he says, delighting in the way that your heart rate increases and you grip the arms of your chair. “The uncertainty of not knowing if you’ll live or die. The adrenaline of a chase and knowing that if I catch you, you’ll be tossed on a hook like cattle. The terror in wondering if your luck has finally run out, and that perhaps this will be the time I acquaint you with my knife.” The mentioned blade is at your cheek then, materializing in his hand from the shadow and swiftly moving; not pressing in but merely resting on the soft skin there. “Don’t worry, darling,” he says softly at your sharp intake of breath. “I don’t need to hurt you. You’re already feeding her now- curious, don’t you think? That despite the trial being effectively over this realm hasn’t collapsed and sent us back to our respective areas with the others? It’s like a delicacy to her, a spot of curiosity and intrigue and excitement instead of the usual droll. She wants to see how this plays out.”

The knife disappears. “Anyway, you’re correct in your assumption- I avoid the women when I can, because the emotions alone are satisfactory. The Entity knew about my… hm, let’s say ‘moral guidelines,’ when she brought me on board.”

You’re still frozen in place, the volatile nature of the situation making you cautious in your intrigue- he was unpredictable, and apparently the Entity was too. “You can’t do the same for the guys, then? If the emotions are enough?”

“Well, I have to bring something to the table, don’t I?” He finally moves back, settling back into his own seat. “She’d hardly have chosen me if she thought I would give her nothing- unfortunately for your male friends, they align more closely with those I targeted in life. In exchange for being able to spare you lovely ladies, the men cannot be allowed to leave.”

“I see.” You sit in companionable silence for a few minutes- imagine that; companionable! With a killer! - before you realize that the sound of the gate timer has stopped. Time is effectively frozen in the realm, like the Entity waits with bated breath to see what will happen next. “So, what happens now? Now that I know for sure, I mean. I don’t imagine you’ll just let me go.”

He regards you through narrowed eyes, the smile never leaving his face. “Hm, a curious situation we find ourselves in to be sure! I don’t presume you would keep my little secret out of the goodness of your heart?” He takes your silence as an answer. “Well, I can’t very well have you running off to tell your little friends, can I? If they know the game there goes all those delicious anticipatory emotions for the Entity, which puts me back at square one of having to kill everyone- despite my own moral obligations, I do fear that She can make me do her bidding if she’s not getting what she wants.”

As if to agree with him, the realm creaks and shakes, pictures falling from the walls of the office you sit in and shattering on the floor. “Quite the conundrum then- what to do with you!” He waves his hand and a tendril emerges from the darkness, circling you in the office chair, applying pressure to spin you in a slow circle before the demon. “Perhaps you could be persuaded to accept a deal for your silence?” Alastor rests his head in his hand, legs crossed at the knee as he watches you closely.

The atmosphere changes, dark shadows growing up the walls that surround you, never taking your eyes off Alastor. “What kind of deal?”

Your chair jerks forward, the wisps of darkness wrapping around the wheels and tugging it forward, tipping you out of the chair and effectively into Alastor’s lap, arms on either side of his head to hold yourself up. “As I mentioned, she feeds more off the emotions than the true sacrifices,” he murmurs, a tight grip on your arm and the other curling around the back of your neck to bring your face closer. His breath tingles against your lips as he speaks. “I believe we could provide her with more… pleasant emotions, if you’re agreeable to it.” The grasp on your arm loosens, sharp claws trailing delicately across the skin, sending shivers through your body. “A bit of a palette cleanser for all of us! Something to look forward to once in a while among all the carnage and death- in return for your silence and playing your usual part, of course.”

He couldn’t be proposing what it sounded like- and yet, his fingers are carding gently through your hair, the softest touch you’ve felt in months since coming to this place, his nails scratching pleasantly at your scalp as you tremble in his hold; fear, adrenaline, anticipation all spiraling and settling somewhere so low in your gut that it feels like arousal despite this world that you’re in, seated in the lap of a man with teeth so sharp they tear through flesh like knives. You should leave while his guard is down- you had no idea if the hatch would still be open but it seemed like the timer had stopped on the gates-

“H- how often?” You ask, instead of fleeing, and the fingers tracing soft patterns on your skin settles onto your waist, claws prickling through the summer dress you had been dragged into the Entity’s realm in.

“I believe that would be up to Her,” he says, and drops his head to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, sharp teeth gently brushing across your pulse point, where your heartbeat makes itself known. “We can’t have our private moments too often I would think; what would all your little friends say if you were missing so frequently? We can sort out the sordid details later, darling- focus on me now.”

And with that he pulls back far enough that his shadowy tentacles can slip between your bodies, pulling your dress up over your head and leaving you perched in his lap in just your panties. Alastor is leaning back in before you can cover yourself, his mouth latching on to the swell of your nipple and sucking it hard into his mouth, tongue swirling around the tip with a free hand coming down to tug at the flimsy fabric of your panties, the mere suggestion of his claws reducing them to scraps. His grip back on the soft curve of your hip, he pulls your body down against him to grind against the wet heat between your thighs, a reverberating groan against your chest that sends heat rocketing through your body.

It’s the most perfect thing you’ve felt in ages- firm pressure against your clit where his erection strains against his slacks, the slickness of your arousal irreparably ruining them. You hope for both of your sakes that despite the strangeness of the trial you were in, your clothing would be reset like it usually was; showing up to the fire completely naked wasn’t something that you wanted to be subjected to, nor was what would be unavoidable scrutiny from your teammates at taking so long in the trial and then showing up unclothed.

“You’re far too preoccupied with whatever is in that lovely head of yours,” Alastor says around a nipple, giving it a parting kiss before moving to the other side. “Am I not adequately entertaining you, my dear?” He continues to rut his hips up against you as he speaks, the tinkling of a belt buckle making you look down to see more of his tentacles undoing his pants so he doesn’t have to take his hands off you. That’s the thought that finally has you releasing the shaky breath you’ve been holding back, hands coming off the back of the armchair to tangle in his hair and clutch him closer to your chest. Sudden, burning heat presses against you, a moan suppressed into your skin as Alastor pulls back, kissing along your collarbone. “I’d so hate for you to be bored,” he says politely, and starts to shift you backwards off his lap.

“Wait!” You resist the pull, sliding forward again until the folds of your cunt rest against his cock, his hissed intake of breath sending your heart rate skyward. Hands braced on his chest now, you place your forehead against his. “Please, I want- fuck, Alastor, please…”

His grip tightens, tilting and lifting you enough that the tip of his cock presses insistently at your entrance. And fuck, you knew he was strong- he had to be, with the ease that he lifted the others, men entirely comprised of dense muscle, onto the hooks; how deep his slices cut with one swing; how easy it was for him to bust pallets and walls and fuck up your generators- but the demonstration of it now as he prepares to fuck you shoots arousal into your bloodstream, sharp and dangerous while he merely holds you aloft like its nothing, the drip of your arousal coating him where you hover in his grasp. “Go on,” he whispers, his lips brushing tantalizingly against yours. “Let me taste what you sound like needing me.”

So you plead- you let the words fall from your lips like a prayer, to him, to the Entity, begging for release, for the pleasure that he’s promised you as a reprieve from the usual torture of these realms. “Please fuck me, please, Alastor, I need it- oh God, yes…” Your words dissolve into a drawn out whimper of his name as he pulls you down, sinking you onto his cock with such steady pressure that your limbs tingle with the feeling of being so perfectly filled. Your moans echo in the empty halls of the police department, no one to hear you as you settle fully into his lap, his length reaching deep inside you and brushing against that soft sweet spot that many back home struggled to hit with any accuracy. He stills and allows you to adjust to him, claws still gripping the plush skin of your thighs while you breath deeply and force yourself to move slow to start.

Alastor exhales harshly through his nose when you rock your hips against him, a slow grind that has his cock dragging deliciously against your inner walls. The way he’s watching you, the feeling of his tight grip against your skin- it’s all such a contrast to the feelings you’ve been plagued with since the Entity abducted you. There’s still a tinge of fear but with it- burning, glorious pleasure, anticipation that grows in your gut along with the distant ache of an approaching orgasm, the satisfaction of a curiosity being sated. You use the little leverage to have to lift up a couple inches off his cock before rocking back down, a desperate whine escaping you when he bucks his hips to meet your thrust. You establish a rhythm, slow and firm with the pressure exactly where you need it even without a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit. You were sure if you snaked a hand down now it would be over, cumming in Alastor’s lap as many times as you could manage before he finally finished himself. But you were in no rush- you could stay like this forever, you think deliriously, riding this demon’s cock without a single thought to the world outside this room, the dangers of the Entity’s realm that normally lurk around every corner.

Like she can hear the thought as it enters your head, a bell rings out- the world shakes around you as the end-trial timer starts again, shadows that are different from Alastor’s growing up the walls and dismantling the realm at the seams.

“Oh dear,” Alastor says, his hands tightening their grip on your body even as he ceases his thrusting. “It would appear that we now have a time limit, darling. Perhaps you’d better run along now- we wouldn’t want you to get caught in the Entity’s clutches, would we?”

He knows as well as you do what happens when the timer runs out- dark spikes that emerge from the ground to spear the unfortunate survivor that took a second too long in finding the hatch or opening the gate, like the Entity was throwing a tantrum at them not playing her game the way she wanted. And he’s not wrong- if you had any sense of self-preservation you would climb out of his lap and stumble with your weak legs back towards where you had heard the hatch earlier. Fuck, you wouldn’t even still be here if you had any true survival instincts, because where was the logic in staying in a confined space with who was, despite his honeyed voice and thick cock, a confirmed killer?

You didn’t want to risk being caught when the timer ran out, impaled in a far less pleasurable way than you currently were- but maybe the buzz of pleasure was making you a little careless in your decision making. You were so close to orgasm, you didn’t think it would take you long to get there.

He starts to lift you from his lap and you clench your inner walls in protest, stealing the groan from his lips with a fierce kiss. “No, wait- I have enough time, let me keep going.”

You feel him smile against your lips. “I admire your dedication, my dear, but time is fleeting- I’d hate for you to feel rushed, there’s always next time.”

That should sound promising, the knowledge that you can have this again, but instead it spurs you into action. “Fuck, no, need it now-” You rise up and slam back down onto him, your legs digging into the sides of the chair, your thighs straining with the effort you’re now exerting as you properly ride him, fast and sloppy. It’s desperate now, the need that you feel- as the world around you continues to shudder and quake you make quick work with your fingers, finally reaching between your bodies to slide your fingers through the slick of your arousal and rub at your clit, engorged and throbbing in your need. Alastor lets out a soft noise as your walls flutter around him in time with the flickering of the lights, cumming with a whine into his mouth as your body tenses in his grasp, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt in an imitation of his claws. Your vision goes dark- which might be an effect of the realm disintegrating, now that you think about it- and everything is crackling electricity and white-hot pleasure that drowns out everything but the sound of Alastor grunting as he continues to fuck up into your pliant body, soft and soaked in the remnants of your orgasm.

Black oozes down the walls surrounding you, the full collapse of the police department imminent as Alastor stands suddenly, tentacles sending papers and binders scattering so he can lay you across the desk, thrusting in time with the ringing of the bell. He bucks his hips once, twice, before spending himself with a couple long pulses, the last spilling across the bare skin of your pelvis as he pulls out.

You know that the collapse is going to happen now, that you wasted any chance you might have had of escaping in favor of cumming on Alastor’s cock, but you can’t bring yourself to care as Alastor pants softly, brushing your hair from your forehead and standing, helping you get your feet under you before he takes a step back. “Until next time, my dear,” he says, and before you can even inquire what he means there are cool, ghost-like hands wrapping around your ankles. A glance down reveals that in the chaos of the collapse Alastor had moved the pair of you- shifting through the shadows until you stood outside RCPD instead of the office you had been occupying, the hum of the hatch ignored despite being so close to you.

His shadow grins at you from the fading sidewalk and tugs hard, sending you sprawling through the hatch with Alastor’s glowing eyes watching you from above.

You land hard on your back beside the campfire, immediately swarmed by your friends- Nancy in particular is teary, worried about having left you alone with Alastor after she escaped. After covertly confirming that you were clothed- because thank God, showing up late would be one thing, but late and naked was another- you shoo them off with some fabricated story about Alastor chasing you away from the hatch whenever you got close.

Everyone’s minds at ease, you settle onto a log by the fire, Meg and Laurie on either side of you as they tell you about their own trials; no one else seems to notice the wispy shadow that lurks on the edge of the woods, or the way that it grins and winks before fading into the fog.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #x reader #dead by daylight #dbd x reader #ily frau <3 #dbd x hazbin #what a tag lol

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