#slight maw play
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Ch. 49 // I’ll Help Set Up, Regrettably // Day 42
Contents (Warnings): Lynette debates whether this was a good idea or not (vore mentions, slight teasing, mouth "play", and as always character/monster info).
Wordcount: 4,722 (Sorry it took a while to come out and if the quality suffered some. I had to retype it all and my right eye has been acting up so it's hard for me to focus fully when I'm typing without breaks. HOPE YOU ENJOY, THANK YOU! AND THERE WAS A 2 WEEK SKIP)
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(Added for Day 30)
At the end of our shift, before we got to leave.
Edgar brought Alexander and me back into his office.
He sat at the edge of his new desk. Alexander and I weren't required to take a seat, so we stood back respectively.
His red-violet hue did a deep once over like he took notes.
"Glad you both went through your punishments with grace." He held his hands together, satisfied.
We both soughed. Alexander was as relieved as I.
"You may resume your normal schedules starting Thursday." He continued removing his hat and undoing his bun. It let his long hair go. "And please, keep to the rules I set next time-"
Even though Edgar said it to both of us, he steadily hovered over Alexander more.
Did he do something? I asked in my head.
"You're dismissed, Alexander." Edgar said to him and glanced at me, "Lynette, I need you a moment more."
I stiffened up. Alexander didn't question it and left. I felt the antsiness return. Why am I staying behind? Should I be worried? Would Edgar do anything? We didn't talk much; he was usually busy in the back, so I knew little about him.
Edgar focused on me, a slight furrow to his brow, then held up a hand as he leaned off the table. "You're fine, Lynette. You're not in trouble."
He took a breath and brushed back his hair. Not a strand remained on his face, the opposite of Drake, who enjoyed having most of his hidden. "I should have had this talk with you before, but better now than not at all."
He tapped his finger on his desk, "I did not expect you to stay, let alone put in the effort to keep up your promise when you were hired."
He lifted his finger, "I certainly will not stop you if you continue working here. I'd invite it as many others here need more positive interactions with humans."
I felt the intense narrow, almost like he put pressure on my chest. "And if they break any of the rules I have in place. TELL ME. Because if Sandra, Tristan, or I do not catch something for some reason, you could be in danger." He held his hand to clarify, "they are in place for a reason, not that I have doubts about those I hired. This is a warning, in case."
He really cares, doesn't he? At least he sounds like he does.
I nodded. "I will."
The pressure Edgar had on me released, "good. Or you'll have more to worry about in the future, which you don't need for your goal." He held up a hand to me. "And thank you for continuing to work with us, Lynette. If you ever need anything, don't be afraid to ask."
...
(Oct. 31st, Monday)
We had Halloween off as a Holiday.
Drake: Hey, if any of you going to the party can come a bit earlier, around 9:00p.m., to set up, that'd be cool. 1:30 p.m.
Alexander: Sure. 1:30 p.m.
Zilla: I'd have to escape Zane first. 1:31 p.m.
Viola: After I help the triplets. 1:33 p.m.
Lev: I have a date around then, but I'll be there if it ends a little earlier than expected. 1:34 p.m.
June: 😿I want to help, but I also got to help Elliot. 1:36 p.m.
Tila: What happened to Elliot? 1:36 p.m.
Tila: And Drake, I am on a hunt today for a rare spindle Lim, and I refuse to give up until I find the darn creature. It's bound to give me more answers about the Arachne. 1:37 p.m.
June: (sent a picture of a room full of pillows). 1:37 p.m.
Drake: Good luck, Tila and Pillows? 1:38 p.m.
June: He wants me to help get rid of some, and I think he's here somewhere in them. 1:40 p.m.
I glanced back at the empty spot for the flat screen and consoles. Wicks didn't tell me how he broke them, but it wasn't there when I got home last night. He ordered new ones, and they'd be in by tomorrow. I can't play games tonight. Wicks told me he would be busy all night and into Tuesday, so I'd be alone with no candy to give. Not that I wasn't grateful for a chance to relax, given what's been going on since I won the dart game.
I groaned aloud and fell back on the couch, my phone arm covering my eyes. Lev took it like a challenge, and now all of his games consist of things HE KNOWS I won't be good at, and Alexander either gets so competitive with mine that he ends up somehow beating me at it. OR he picks ones that, much like Lev, knows I wouldn't be good at.
When I cried out, my apartment took the voice into its empty void.
Drake's the only one that picks fair games. It made me pull up my phone again. I had it hovering over my face, and I reread the replies and the new messages.
If I go, I have to deal with all of them...they can't do anything to me. This is my chance to get more information on them. I thought back to the festival. They talked "normal" when we were there.
I then scrolled back up to Drake's original message. Do I want to be there with the main problem, Alexander? I didn't feel much difference between us; I still didn't understand anything about him. Not that I know Lev, either. Or Zilla, or Drake, or-
Claudia was gone again for the next two weeks due to "family" reasons. It's the reason I hadn't been a tiny yet. I let my chest heave and expel all my breath. Drake was one of the nicest night crew people. I want to preserve that...
Lynette: I can help set up if you can send me your address. 1:51 p.m.
June: YAY! NOW I REALLY WANT TO GO! I GOTTA SEE MY BUDDY! 🤗 1:52 p.m.
Drake: Address - **** 1:53 p.m.
Lev: Oh, Lynette~ Going to a monster party is odd for someone who doesn't like being a snack. 1:53 p.m.
Alexander: ^ 1:53 p.m.
I sat up, "wait. It's not just everyone from work? How many are going to be there?!" I squeaked out. "Ah-why did I-"
"Why am I so DUMB!" I put my hands in my hair and frizzed it up. WHY DON'T I THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS. I let my hair furrow up. I'M SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS!
I dropped my phone on the cushion. I can't just say, never mind. My head fell forward. It allowed the giant puff ball of hair I created to fall over my face. I reached out for one of our white throw pillows and screamed into it for thirty seconds. I let it fall from my hands and bounce onto the floor.
I looked at Wicks's door and chuckled, "Wicks, did you know monsters exist, and I'm working with them? I decided it'd be a good idea to stay involved with them when they care little about me-" I tipped forward and rested my chin on the back end of the couch, still looking at his closed door. He wasn't even home.
It was almost two months. It felt like I had been there longer with the chaos I'd experienced. I jokingly shook my fist and shouted, "CURSE YOU EDGAR, WHY DID YOU OFFER ME SO MUCH MONEY!"
My tone came out defeated. "I still want to believe I'm going to make it through the year."
…
Any of the cute costumes were sultry, too much for my taste. I didn't like the vulnerable feeling brought upon me by them. Even wearing a bathing suit at the beach felt too much.
And the other ones, those that were scary, didn't cut it for me either. I feared I'd look in a mirror and frighten myself with them.
After concluding shopping for a costume on Halloween was a bust, I called Wicks. I knew we had our costumes from last year packed away. I figured he hid them in his room, and I respected his privacy too much to invade without his permission. I texted him when he didn't answer the two times I called.
He finally messaged back near eight o'clock to say he was safe and loved me very much. I guess that's a no.
I dressed in my best Halloween throw-over, a spooky dark violet-purple one, then picked my cute golden trim, baby blue skirt, and thigh-high black pumpkin socks with some rainboots since they were almost orange. Yellow's close enough, right?
I tapped in my boots and checked over my room. I had time to clean it today, so everything was nice and neat for me to crash into later. I even had my lamb Pj's from my mom sitting on top. I left the apartment after and went to my car.
Drake said I didn't need to pick up anything. It'll be a straight shot there. I got my GPS ready and started my drive over. We lived near the edge of the small city while Drake lived out of it. It became more apparent as I started to see the lines of trees. There isn't much around, is there? My anxiety burrowed deeper inside me. It'll be fine. They won't do anything. The little reminder pinged in my head. My coworkers are just some of the ones attending. There would be other people...monsters too. My fingers tightened around the wheel as I could see the gates in the distance.
Wicks won't even know. I couldn't give him Drake's address out of fear that he'd leave work early and want to head over. I slowed down my bug and turned inside as the gate was wide open. I drove up the stretch of road to the beautiful building. Its architecture reminded me of those old victorian homes, gargoyles, and everything. Though, it looked restored as none of the paint was chipped, and there weren't vines hanging from it as they would in vampire movies. Once I pulled up to the huge double doors, I realized no other cars were around. Not even Xander's. I brought out my phone and took a breath. Sorry, I wanted to drive away now and say I didn't know anyone was home. For some dumb reason, my own obligations wouldn't let me.
I called Drake.
“Hey, Lynette, what’s up?”
“Uh-I’m here…where should I park?"
"Right!" Drake said. He sounded rushed. "If you're at the front door, keep heading straight and turn into the garage when you arrive. I'll have it open. Sorry, I didn't realize the time."
"You're okay, thank you." I hung up.
I did as he said and saw the familiar garage with its door open. It had a few cars inside, including Drakes, Alexanders, and two others I didn't recognize. I parked in the closest empty space. When I got out and locked my car, I saw they could fit at least five more cars inside.
"Hey, Lynette," Drake's voice echoed around us. It looked like an empty luxury storefront with excellent tile and lights above. I could barely take it in, let alone when I was tiny. You really live like this, and YOU work at a pizzeria?!
I bowed my head, "you look cool." I finally noticed his black and red samurai outfit, which looked like natural silk. Though, what perplexed me the most was his ponytail. Drake's hair wasn't long enough, especially with his bangs still over his face. It would have been funny if you had that red and black cape and fake teeth.
His fangs weren't that noticeable if I didn't pay attention. The only time I really saw them was when he yawned. He didn't expose as he rarely showed more than concern or confusion on his face.
"Thanks..." He pointed down to my boots, then back up, "and you are a-"
"I couldn't buy a costume! They didn't have any good ones left!" I exclaimed. I expected him or Alexander to make a sly comment about it. He brought me a slight ease.
He turned around and ushered me to follow him to the entrance into the house from the garage. "Well, it fits the theme."
I followed him up the few stairs and looked over the hanging decorations. Most of them seemed hung, cobwebs, giant spiders, a bunch of kabuki masks? And a plethora of lights as well as the walls, looked smeared with glow paint in different ghost and pumpkin shapes. The few statues and paintings were moved out of the room and replaced with tables and chairs leading up to the ballroom at the center, halfway up the stairs.
"It looks like you already got a lot done," I commented.
He scratched the back of his head, "Wenna told me she'd take forever helping Viola out yesterday with the triplets, but Viola sent her off after she got a better handle on them." Drake walked me near a few tables off to the side. They had a bubble like films over them. What's that? I popped one as we passed, and it wobbled but didn't pop. It felt warm.
Drake continued, "so there isn't much left to get done. I should have texted you, but Alexander and I started talking about the new crying kingdom game.
We went off to the side near a hall on the left side, under the stairs. He pressed open the giant silver double doors, "the only thing we need help with now is-" He lifted his hand and put it in front of me. I stopped walking as the giant leg swung in front of me.
"Careful," Alexander's voice came from above.
I peered up only to stumble back, seeing his stomach. He ate someone.
I let my eyes wander around the room instead of on Alexander even after he moved behind the giant countertop. I heard him clank down a few trays.
"Cooking," Drake finished. It pulled my attention to him and away from the giant half of the kitchen. "You're not hiding it, Alexander?"
"It's not like everyone here doesn't know what I eat." He said.
I flinched when he said that.
Drake exhaled, "well, this is the last thing we need help with, Lynette." Drake gestured up to the counter. It was bigger than us both. The counter perfect for our height was empty.
I glanced up as Drake walked me closer. I could see Alexander's eyes glowing past his glasses and the irritation nestled between his brows.
I refused to look over more than his face and hair but noticed he had a similar samurai outfit as Drake except for white and gold. And I was confident they were both wearing fake ponytails because Alexander had one too, and his hair was too short.
"Are you done making all of them?"
Alexander groaned, nodding, "all I have is the energy transfer left."
Drake's head turned to me, "maybe Lynette can help-"
"DRAKE!!~" A familiar female's voice broke into the kitchen. I saw the black-haired girl with a youthful appearance. She gave a flashy toothy grin from beyond the silver door she clung to. "LYNETTE! Nice to see you again, and you're normal height too!!" She gave a cheer like a mother at a soccer game.
I gave a small wave, "hi, Wenna."
She popped her attention back to Drake, "and-hey, do you mind calling my phone? I have no idea where I left it, and I need to be sure Angela has the right address!"
Drake pulled out his phone, "I'll help you call it." He said as he looked back at both of us, responsibly, and said, "be nice, and have her help you if she can."
I wanted to follow Drake, but he left in a rush. My whole body felt tense, and I stared at the double door. I would love to go on a phone hunt. It might be high up if she was putting up those decorations. I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and threw myself to face it. I couldn't back up fast enough. He got my arm and yanked me closer before encompassing my waist in his hand.
"XANDer!" I squeaked out. I was forced to look over his body as he put me on the counter in front of him near one of the massive baking trays. The counter was more than waist height to him, so at least I didn't have to look at his abdomen directly.
"Stop it. You might fall." He growled. He sat me to the side of him.
"You grabbed me out of nowhere. What am I supposed to do!" I argued quietly.
He came closer, "just roll up your sleeve and give me your arm." He held his giant hand out.
"W-why?" I kept both of them fastened to my chest.
"I need to touch you physically to take your energy like this." He grumbled.
I did as he asked and gave him my arm. His hand overtook it and nearly part of my elbow. He was smaller than the others, yet he was still a giant to me.
His eyes stared at their fluorescent glow again, and he held his other hand over the treats. They were pumpkin-shaped cakes that flickered with the energy he pumped into them, or at least I saw one of them do that.
"What are you even supposed to be?"
"Don't you start too," I felt more at ease with his question. "I'm not wearing a costume."
He watched over the treats and didn't look at me, "you really can't dress yourself, can you?"
And you can't be pleasant. I said in my head. I wouldn't dare say that to his face, especially like this.
After another minute and one more pumpkin out of the 300 on the counter sparked, he groaned.
"What?" I asked.
"This is going to take forever." He tilted his head away in thought. He then faced me, "you want me to make this faster?"
"If you can do that, yes...?" I muttered. The less time I spend near you right now, the better. He tugged my arm, which caught my attention; it was gentle but sudden. I steered my head toward his parted lips that moved in on my arm. "That's not-"
He trapped my hand between them faster than I could close my fist. His teeth lightly kept my wrist in place while his lips hid it. I cried out when his tongue cradled my hand.
"STOP!" I twisted my arm to no avail, though he did release my hand from his maw.
"I'm not going to eat you, doofus." He said and followed it up, almost mockingly, with a swallow.
I didn't even want to close my dripping hand. I couldn't pull it back either, as Alexander kept my forearm secure.
"Then what were you doing!?"
"If I have direct contact, I can take your energy faster."
I pointed at the arm he held, "you're already touching me!"
"Direct contact in my body." He motioned to himself, "I already told you before. I'm not a full magus. I'm slow at taking energy like this." He moved the hand that held my arm more before he rested his other hand on his stomach. "And my current meal doesn't have the same output as you."
Current meal? That's a person. I pressed at his fingers that held my arm. "I don't want any part of me near you. This arm holding is more than enough."
"Fine, we'll stay here for the hour."
He didn't clean my hand.
"You're overexaggerating."
"I'm not." Alexander uttered, "I don't see what the big deal is. I'm not eating you."
"What do you mean?! You wouldn't want anyone putting your hand in their mouth, would you?"
He rolled his eyes, "hell no."
"Then why would I!"
Alexander's gaze fell back onto my hand like he didn't take in a single word I said.
"Xander!"
"I heard you," he groaned. He started up the process again.
I don't want to sit here for an hour, listen to you, or look- "Is there really no other way you can do this faster?"
"If there was, I'd do it," Alexander said.
I glanced back at the baking pans on the giant counter. I already saw more of them out there. So has Alexander been doing this the whole time?... I regret coming early. I didn't think I'd help in this way. I wanted to get it done. That's not a good idea, Lynette. I know what will happen.
I muttered under my breath, "how long would it take?"
He perked up, "about two minutes. Are you considering it?!" He sounded like a kid at Christmas.
YOU'RE SO WEIRD. I kept that in my head. "You're lying to me; how is it that much of a time difference?"
"I wouldn't lie about something that stupid," Alexander replied, offended.
He sounds serious, but will I let him do that? He awaited my answer. I don't want to. What if he decides to eat me? What if he takes more of my arm? What if he holds me there longer, he knows I can't fight him. I didn't want to trust him with any part of me, let alone in his mouth. I knew what he did. I also don't want to be up here. The faster I'm on the ground and moving around, the better. I subtly shifted on the marble countertop and enjoyed the small freedom my legs had dangling over it.
I spoke with my head still turned away, "A minute, that's it, then I want to be put down."
He didn't respond with words. Again, he got my hand in his mouth, and I felt his body shutter. Though, what immediately caught my attention was the push of his soft tongue and the sound. He had to be close because of our height difference, so I clearly heard the gulp of him swallowing the excess flavored drool back.
"Don't do that!" I pleaded as he got to work again with his free hand. It didn't seem like he was listening, and I regretted not getting out my phone right away to time it.
…
Alexander
He knew eating a human before coming here was a good idea. He might have tried to eat Lynette the second he picked her up if he didn’t.
And his body relaxed as he got her hand inside his mouth a second time. He felt her squirm, and her fingers unintentionally stroke his tongue. I want more. He swallowed and heard her yelp further. Why do you taste like this?!
His body urged him to eat her even though he already had another meal inside him. I could put cloaks on both of them and put her inside too. He liked the idea, but another thought popped into his head too. Work. He exhaled through his nose and did his best to transfer the energy she gave him.
Her constant movement distracted him. It reminded him that he had never done this before. He always ate someone if he got them anywhere near his mouth.
It was nice to taste her, but he hated doing this. It was a teasing torture for him to have her and not satisfy his craving.
It slowly became too much. Alexander’s stomach clenched, and it begged for more.
“CHASE!”
It knocked him out of thought. He let Lynette's arm go and opened his lips enough for her hand to slip through his teeth.
She studied it and whined. “Why are you like this?!”
“Could say the same about you.” He grumbled and cleaned it off with his magic. “And it’s fine, Drake, the pastries are done.” He looked at them with surprise. How did I overcharge them that mu- His hand came up immediately as she tipped forward. He caught her and leaned forward, so she rested on his bicep.
He scanned over her, not realizing how fast he had drained from her.
She pushed lightly and croaked, “why a-are you-”
“Shut up,” Alexander told her. She’s dazed.
Drake came to his side with his sister, "put her down here."
He complied, “she let me. You can't be mad." Alexander slowly lowered her down, and he handed her over to Wenna.
She needs rest.” Alexander said as he handed her off to Wenna.
She got Lynette in her arms, "let's get ya to bed, okay?"
After they left, Drake glared at Alexander.
The glasses-clad male started to put the treats in their own bowls. “The shrimp offered.”
“AND you took it knowing-” Drake pursed his lips. I know. I thought it would be fine. I ate... He felt a lot better now that she wasn't in the room. His hand slipped to his filled abdomen.
Drake sighed, "glad there done. After you finish that, help me make seals over our bedroom doors, please.”
“Yeah.”
...
Lynette
My mind took in nothing on the way up to her room. It took me a minute to realize she even put me on her bed.
"Alexander really drained you, didn't he?" She had a really soft, sweet voice. It reminded me of Viola.
"I think I was too panicked to notice at first," I said. I didn't feel on edge near Wenna, even if she was a vampire or vampire beast.
I saw her look back and study me. She looked over my clothes, at least I assumed, and then jumped up from the normal-sized king mattress. "Drake told me you couldn't get a costume, so what better time to offer you one than now." She stood over me and grabbed my arms.
I flinched as she pulled me into a sitting position. I wobbled and kept myself steady when she let go of my wrists.
"We look about the same body-wise, so you'll fit into anything I have. Let me get you some to choose from." She slightly squealed, "you'll be super cute!"
"You don't-" She ran to the walk-in closet across from her bed. It was the size of another room. I saw her disappear to a farther section and sighed. I kept my hands on the soft fabric of her cherry red comforter. Around her room were a lot of trophies and trinkets, a bookshelf, giant vanity, and nothing else too out of the ordinary.
I felt better after shutting my eyes for a few minutes. Wenna's tweet tickled my ears.
"Brought you a few of my favorites."
She laid them out on the bed beside me. Each one was as revealing as the next. A nurse, a cat, a lot of the classics. The only one that looked good out of all of them was a cheerleader outfit that looked like it was from sucker chainsaw, yet it was still WAY too showy.
"Oh-uh-" The happy look on her face kept me from telling her. Wenna, I'm sorry. I can't wear any of these.
Her violet-red softened, "you don't like any of them, do you?"
I shook my head, "it's not that I don't like them. I-they're not my style...do you have anything..." I felt bad for asking. "Any costumes that don't show too much skin?"
I hoped I didn't offend her. She put a hand up to her chin and hummed. "Hmm. Well-" She gave a soft laugh. "It is silly and a little old, but it should fit you. Hold on!"
She got all of them in her hands again and ran back to her closet, holding the clothes.
She came out with the costume. "It'll make it easy to spot ya." She said as she brought the shimmering suit to me. It looked like it would fit regardless of its smaller size. It's orange and cute... I thought to myself. I didn't want to wear it either.
"This is the only one like this that you have?"
"Mhm." She placed it down in my lap. It was long.
The giant googly eyes rested and looked up at me. I pet my hand along the scales and sighed.
"Okay, thank you, Wenna...I guess I'll be a giant fish."
...
Thank you for reading! :D Have a gouda day! (Nonnegotiable, if you're lactose intolerant, you're about to be in a lot of pain, sorry, not sorry. Lol).
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What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)
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slight spoilers for LN DLC! Im’ begging you please play it! Anyway HAPPY BDAY LN DLC!
k hi so I’m rlly tired but who cares it’s the Little nightmares Dlc secrets of the maw’s birthday! And bc I don’t have any art to post, this is me just dumping about how much I love RK. (pulls up a google doc)
I love this short man.so much. I would die for him and the only thing that prevented me from doing so is because tarsier wouldn’t allow that. I am currently working on a plan to raid bandai naaco so I can trade my soul for RK’s, but that can wait. I would protect him with my every fiber and cell and would’ve pat him on the head.
The reasons we have hands is because of him. I need to draw him. I need to make gifs of him being pat on the head. I need to drop everything and make a plush of him.
While yes he did kill the granny, I mean like. cmon. She’s really cool and all but like, drowning is not cool. Don’t drown people kids.
But anyway back to RK, I am willing to bet he is one of, if the not one of the most wholesome characters in LN. Mono is great and all but if you said gullible was written on the ceiling he would look up while saying,”no it isn’t!!!” and he kind of killed some stuff but yeah. RK is amazing.
Other reasons while the DLC is prob one of my favs? It basically just upgrades what made LN so good and adds all sort of new ideas and levels for the audience to enjoy. They bosses still have some similarities, like the shoe monster and granny, and bringing back the janitor and lady, but I feel as if the DLC brings some new content as well. I also enjoyed how it focused on world building, and while this didn’t let us get a huge insight to RK, little nightmares only gave portages more subtle personalities up to interpretation, until recently with LN2. It added so much to the story and lore of Ln, and it’s a shame that not a ton of people know it that well. I’ve played it a good 3 times, and I have enjoyed a lot each and every time.
Conclusion: The DLC is my favorite (VERY closely to the rest of the games, LN holds a very dear place in my heart being fan of it for about 4 and half years) of then LN series, as it brings a lot of world building and answers and questions, but it left us more satisfied than hungry with questions. I want more people to acknowledge this game, as it’s honestly really good. And RK is blurb I’m sorry mono but you could’ve never compete with nome father.
#this started as a joke#then turned into a review?#I mean#yipee!#/p#/hj sorta? it was kind of joke but I do believe in all of this.#the dlc is my fav please play it.#I don't post about LN a whole ton but it holds a VERY special place in my heart#it was one of the first horror games I fully played by myself and it's left a huge impact on me creatively.#gives me TONS of inspiration#LN#little nightmares#little nightmares 2 mention#SLIGHT SPOILERS#little nightmares DLC#LN DLC#little nightmares downloadable content#Little nightmares secrets of the maw#ln secrets of the maw#RK#LN RK#little nightmares RK#little nightmares runaway kid#the runaway kid#LN seven#little nightmares seven#RK is blorbo#shhsusush that ending didn't happen#comfort character
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Animagus reader and Sirius playing in their animal forms and Sirius accidentally being a little too rough since his form is obviously a lot bigger? He’s super apologetic and while the damage isn’t a big deal at all, reader is like “… I guess this means you owe me a lot of sweater cuddles and to carry me in your bag..” to milk it LOL
part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8
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Sirius curses the fact that he'd chosen to bound over the grounds with you instead of staying hidden in the shadows of the forest. It means that when his massive form crashes down on top of you after you nip at his front paw, that neither of you can immediately transform to assess the damage. You're in full view of the castle and the accompanying grounds, and he has to fight every urge in his body not to give himself away and shift back at your pained yelp.
He panics, cycles through fight and flight and decides neither will do, then ever-so-gently takes the scruff of your neck between his teeth. He's painstakingly careful, whining apologetically in his throat as he secures you in his maw and bolts for the forest. You haven't made any further outcries, not even when his grip on you had shifted your position, and Sirius takes it to mean that he hasn't maimed you too badly. He still doesn't feel good about it, though, and his paws beat roughly over the earthen forest as he searches for a place to hide.
When he's carried you well within the sprawling confines of the forest he lowers his head to the ground, setting you gently on the mossy dirt.
When you don't immediately transform back, your eyes scanning the trees for potential onlookers, he nudges you with his wet snout, snuffling softly against your fur. It's safe.
You let your transformation seize you, limbs cracking though there's no accompanying pain, and fur retracting and morphing into soft, smooth skin. You wind up splayed over the forest floor and quickly right yourself so that your back is against the tree, and Sirius completes his own transformation only seconds later.
His eyes are round and shining with worry, and you marvel at how he's able to pull such perfect puppy dog eyes even after shedding his canine form. He scans you for visible injuries, lips trembling slightly as he asks, "Darling, are you okay?"
"My wrist hurts," You observe, voice pinched in pain as you raise it. There's a slight ache there, nothing that a day of use won't shake away, but Sirius takes it between his fingers like it's shattered glass that he's afraid might cut him.
"I'm sorry!" He gushes, inspecting the skin there like it might just give up and split in two, "Darling, I'm sorry, I didn't- I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you- is it okay? Do we need to go to the hospital wing?"
You flex it in his grip, once, twice, and already the slight pain eases. You shake your head, but he perceives it as an answer for the wrong question, and his eyes light further with a flaming worry.
"No, I'm- it's okay, Sirius." You assure him, brows still furrowed together at the middle, "I don't need the hospital."
"Are you sure?" He verifies, a nervous glimmer still sullying his handsome features. You nod, twisting your wrist in his grip to take hold of one of his hands, squeezing it reassuringly.
"Yeah, I'm sure," You nod, shifting your legs to plant your heels against the ground, "Help me up?"
He scrambles to fulfil your request, hauling you to your feet and right into his arms. He holds you against his chest, touch excruciatingly gentle against your skin.
"You're sure you're okay?" He asks, and for a third time, you nod.
"Yes, Sirius," You laugh, planting your face into the seam of his button-up, "Yes, I'm okay. It only hurt for a second. I just twisted it or something. It's fine, I'm fine, we're fine."
"Okay." He smooths a hand up your back, nodding along to your repetitive reassurances, "Okay. I'm sorry."
"It's alright," You hum, wishing you were back in your feline form as you press your face into his chest. It's more soothing then, and you can hear the beat of his heart much clearer when you're a cat.
"You gotta make it up to me, though." You muse expectantly, and his arms stiffen around you, "Three whole days of carrying me in your bag without complaining."
"Three?" He asks incredulously, "One! Two, if you're lucky. Three is for hospital wing patients."
"Ah, my wrist," You feign injury, slumping against his chest as he fills the forest with the sound of his deep laughter, "Sirius, hospital wing, stat!"
#sirius black x reader#sirius black imagine#sirius black scenario#sirius black oneshot#sirius black one-shot#sirius black one shot#sirius black headcanon#sirius black headcanons#sirius black hc#sirius black hcs#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black fanfic#sirius black fic#sirius black blurb#sirius black drabble#sirius black dialogue#sirius black fluff#sirius black x reader fanfiction
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Working off your recent post: big creepy monster Ghost who watches the reader sleep in their tight little panties and thin shirt🤤
Fem!reader, monster! Ghost, he's creepy and shameless in this, yandere themes, slight smut towards the end, reader is implied to be chubby
Shadow creature!Ghost who gets angry at first when he notices that someone moved into the cabin in his woods which was left basically abandoned for years and he used it sometimes as a temporary den of sorts.
At first he was going to just outright attack whomever moved into the house, probably eat them too, he wasn't very picky, until he saw who exactly moved in.
It turned out to be you, a pretty young thing in her early 20's who apparently wanted to 'run away' from everyone and everything as Ghost understood it from the bits and pieces of aborted shouted phone calls when he was lurking outside the windows at night.
What really stood out to him besides your apperance was you scent; a delicious, delectable sweet scent that made his maw open, rows of sharp teeth glinting with salvia as he sniffed and snuffled at the wind that carried your scent. It was then when he decided that you were his; it wasn't up to debate really! After all it was you who decided to move willingly into his territorry and whether you knew or not about him didn't really matter to Ghost. You were pretty, smelled delicious and your sweet laugh as you tended to the little vegetable garden you set up made something in his chest warm up.
He started lurking at your windows more often than not, watching you cook, eat, read and eventuall shower and sleep like the little creep he was, but could you really blame him? You were so oblivious it almost hurt and made him growl, you were clearly helpless and needed a protector! A big male shadow creature that would care for you, protect you and provide for you and your future pups.
He watched you dress up for bed and since it was summer you had your windows open so Ghost took the liberty of sliding through the open window and hide in the shadows, undetected and sikent as ever but watched you oh so attentively as you readied yourself for bed.
Your light almost see through top barely hanging on your full tits, almost spilling out, your soft curves visible under the short material but what interested him in particular were your panties. You slept only in your panties.
The pastel colored material did little to hide your precious place, they were tightly pulled up against your cunt and as you continued to peacefully sleep your lower lips were almost visible to him and Ghost was at. His. Limit.
He wanted so desperately to go up to you and take a sniff :( you smelled so so deliciously, so lovely and fertile like the perfect mate for him. He wanted to lick and suck at the seat of the panties, shove his nose in there and make you feel good, bite your thighs to mark you and show off to other shadow creatures that lurked in this forest that you were his.
But no, he had to wait, he needed to be patient. He had to be careful about revealing himself least he scared you off for good. He needed to play the long game but don't you worry~
You were going to be his mate and ultimately give him pups and Ghost was going to make sure of it♡
#kin speaks#asks#interactions#monster simon my love♡#cod mw2 x reader#cod x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley
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You thought it was a mask.
For two years, two very long years, you would catch glimpses of your stalker. Honestly you weren't even sure when it started, had it only been two years or had it been longer and they only started getting braver and braver. For the last two years the stalker has hidden less and left more and more behind after each "visit".
Your first glimpse of them, the long, large engulfing shadow of them loomed at the edge of the tree line by your drive way. Their face hidden, it was obviously a trick or the street light how big they were. You check the locks and did your best to sleep, ignoring the sound of the front steps and the loud thump on your porch. The box containing a deer's hind leg was bagged and put in the trash can.
The next night it was closer the shadow just as large the face long, still hidden however the outline of antlers visible between the branches of the trees it stood between. Shadows and anxiety were playing tricks on you, the same routine.
Check the locks, ignore the sounds, throw out the heart left on your door mat.
The police already made it clear there was nothing they would do. So this has become your routine.
Watch as the shadow gets closer, see something new and strange about the figure, the long face seemingly made out of bone, the towering form only growing larger as it gets closer, the unnatural red glow of the stalkers eyes. (It had to be an elaborate mask). Check the locks, ignore the sounds of a "gift" being left for you, throw away whatever it was in the morning.
The morning after it stood close to your porch, still technically in the trees, yet so close a brisk walk would have your stalker through your door in seconds. You found a much smaller box than normal on your mat, the beautiful wrapping catching your interest and curiosity. You never saw them in the mornings, and it couldn't be a part of an animal unless it was incredibly small. Curiosity got the better of you as you gently peeled the paper away from the box. It was a jewelry box. Stealing yourself as you gently lifted the lid you were actually surprised to find a beautiful ring, a thin silver band encrusted with diamonds with a beautiful sapphire resting delicately in the center. Genuinely taken a back by the sudden change in present type you find yourself looking around again before placing it just inside the door wondering if you can take it to the jewelry store later potentially get the name of the person who bought it. Maybe this could finally come to an end.
That night you didn't see the person standing in the woods. The lack of the glowing red eyes put you at ease. Relieved that maybe tonight routine can be different, maybe you can actually get some real sleep for the first time in two years. It wasn't until after you laid down and heard the familiar sound of heavy foot falls on your porch steps that you realized your mistake. You're break in routine. Before you could throw the covers off the front door was open. Before your feet even touched the floor the door to your room was gently pressed open the large form dwarfing the doorway as the antlers on the mask (was it a mask?) scrapped against the top of the door jam as he ducked through it.
The large stalker, larger than you could have assumed from ever seeing him before, delicately held the ring box in his furred paw.
"You finally accept my gift and do not wear it. Why do you slight me, my morsel." His voice was deep bass that rolled through the room commanding attention. That's when it dawned on you, the skeletal maw, the maw moved as he spoke.
Oh God. It wasn't a mask.
"I... You... You're not allowed in here. I don't want you in here." Your voice was meak and soft. There was no conviction in your words as you looked over the monster standing in your room, the tips of his antlers scraping against the ceiling despite him hunching.
"Morsel, you accepted my mating gift. I've been offering them for two long years waiting for you to see me, accept me. You're mine now and I am yours." Your breath quickened as the monster took a step toward you, only to be let out in a whoosh as he fell to his knees before you perched on your bed.
"I will protect, defend, and satisfy your every need. Use me as you wish. I am at your command." He nearly whispered as he gently reached forward, grabbing your stunned left hand, carefully sliding the ring on your finger his hands making yours seem impossible small as he carefully brought your hand to his skeletal lips placing what you had to assume was a kiss against the back of your hand.
#monster fucker#monster lover#mdni#writing#monster romance#monster boyfriend#i really dont even know what this is#my random idea#more to come
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Teeth
Joel Miller x f!Reader
(Feral Reader as you’ve all lovingly called her)
The Last of Us (show/game)
4.5K Words (3rd POV)
Part II to Monsters
Summary:
“Only Joel could make offering to get her off sound like a business transaction. But the intention was clear. This wasn’t intimacy, wasn’t passion boiling over, wasn’t romance. It was bodies and tactfulness and practicality.“
Warning: 18 + Minors DNI. Smut, pwp, mentions of violence, enemies to fwb, can be read standalone
Part I | Part II
The house was too quiet.
So often on the road, they’d taken to sleeping in whatever buildings they could secure, alcoves in the woods, even an old run down vehicle on the side of the road occasionally. But this time they all got their own rooms, beds, to sleep in and instead of being comforting it made her anxious. She was used to the sounds of nature going on at night, the steady breathing of her companions, the slight vibrations of the world around her. There was nothing in the cabin but silence.
They’d strategically picked rooms, Ellie taking the master bedroom as that was the farthest away from the entrance with hers and Joel’s closest to the front door. If someone went through the effort of getting through all the defenses and fences and managed to get inside, they’d have to get past their rooms first.
Except not even that because she was awake and laying on the floor in the living room. The bed had been too soft, the walls pressing into her too much. Caged.
So she had grabbed the blankets and pillows and thrown them on the floor on top of the couch cushions she’d yanked down. All where she could have a good vantage point of the front door, pistol resting beside her head and knife under the pillow. It was better, but still not the same.
All the clothes in the house were too big, no matter how tight she knotted the drawstrings, so she’d forgone pants and had thrown on an oversized shirt while her pants dried in what the previous owners had deemed the “laundry room.” The blankets were warm but a little itchy against her bare skin and she sighed.
It was hard to relax, to take advantage of the amenities. The need to constantly be prepared for anything a humming nerve under her skin.
She tried to calm herself, to focus, to slow the constant stream of thoughts going over the previous day. Finding the group, the bullet graze on her shoulder, the look of pure uninhibited rage as Joel caved the man’s skull in with his bare fist. And then the feel of that same hand in hers, rough skin against her own, and the warmth of Joel’s thighs against her body.
“Except you’re wrong if you don’t think I like seeing you on your knees for me.”
She wasn’t an idiot. The man was attractive and had been since the day she met him, no matter how much he set her teeth on edge and made her want to wring his neck. They were the same, hackles raised and maws snapping at every turn. She didn’t feel the need to play nice and hide who she was. He never batted an eye at her lack of hesitation towards violence, never looked at her fearfully or disapprovingly for shooting or stabbing first. She’d been around others before, had seen the way they skittered away in fear as if in a blood haze she’d go after them as well.
Joel Miller was a survivor and knew that the world was ugly. And sometimes you had to match that ugliness to see the next day.
He would have been the type of man that had intimidated her when she was younger. Too gruff, hardened, assured with his cocky attitude and rare smiles. Nothing like Harry. She’d been bashful before, wanting to break out of her shell but unable to take that leap. Not a leader, not a go-getter. Not quite the best at social interaction, at interacting with men specifically, words never coming easily. She would have blushed from one look from the Texan.
The world wasn’t made for blushing anymore though and that was twenty years ago. That girl was dead. She was just wearing her skin.
A skinwalker. A monster wearing a human form.
The Outbreak had changed them all.
Now it was hard to feel anything. She felt tiny sparks of amusement from Ellie when she tried out new jokes to get a reaction, concern as she took note of the weight that seemed to be on the young girl’s shoulders, affection watching her take in every new surrounding, irritation when Joel bossed them both around. Rage and anger were the easiest to feel, so she took aim at the older man. Like poking a bear if only to feel the exhilaration of being chased.
She felt most alive in the middle of a fight and when Joel’s eyes were glaring into her, teeth snapping at her.
Staring up at the ceiling, the slight creak of a hinge caught her ear from down the hall followed by almost silent footsteps. Too heavy to be Ellie, too quiet for the girl that blew through life like a tornado. No, she watched and waited as Joel came around the corner, the lantern she had left lit in the corner of the room illuminating the frown tilting his lips down.
The sweatpants that hadn’t fit her fit him perfectly, settling loose and comfy on his hips while the faded shirt stretched snuggly across his broad chest. She could see the telltale signs that he’d been running his hands through his head, the slight curls in disarray and silver catching the light. If he had been asleep, she couldn’t tell. Maybe he’d heard her leave her own room. He always did seem to know when she was moving around.
“What’re you doin’ out here?” he grumbled quietly, the sound rough and low. The darkness hid his eyes from her but she knew he was probably glaring. Still annoyed over their exchange earlier most likely.
She blinked at him then went back to staring at the ceiling, “Bed’s too soft.” My mind won’t shut off, the room is too quiet, the walls are too close, I don’t like sleeping alone anymore. The words were there, buried underneath layers of skin.
Joel grunted, scratching at his chin and the patchy beard there before placing his hands on his hips and taking her in. He could tell when she was bullshitting, she knew that, but he wasn’t about to call her out on it. They didn’t do feelings, didn’t confess their fears in the dark. It was practical and that’s how they both liked it.
So she reasoned it was in the name of practicality that he sighed and walked over. Because they had shit to get done the next day and he’d gripe at her if she was tired and couldn’t pull her weight. He nudged her side with his foot, the silent command to scoot over, and rather than be a brat and stare him down she did so.
The cushions were wide and worn down, big enough for both of them and weren’t entirely uncomfortable. Better than what they were used to sleeping on. Odd sleeping arrangements weren’t new, the three of them pressed tight together like sardines trying to fit in whatever small safe space they could find. So it wasn’t exactly odd for him to be pressed close to her. There’d been many nights she’d fallen asleep to her cheek against his shoulder blades and Ellie wrapped around her back.
Maybe he had come out to the living room for the same reasons she had. She wasn’t sure but wasn’t about to ask.
Joel placed his own gun on the ground next to his side of the cushions, carefully kneeling down and lifting the blanket up to get underneath. She could feel his pause more than she could see it, could hear the slight curse under his breath, “You wearin’ any pants?”
“Does it look like it?”
He shook his head, jaw clenching but continued climbing in beside her. The apocalypse did away with a lot of things like modesty and politeness. She didn’t care, had gone and helped him in only a towel earlier because she was already there and wasn’t going to take the time to change just to tend to his hand.
Practical.
He shifted beside her, getting comfortable under the shared blanket and laying on his side facing away from her where he could still hear from his good side. There was a moment where his arm went under the pillow and he paused, pulling out the blade while giving her a look before moving it beside him. Never surprised, always annoyed.
The heat from his body made up for having to share the blanket, warmth radiating from him and seeping into her. She hadn’t moved, eyes still glued to the ceiling though now her concentration was mostly on the slight sound of Joel’s breathing next to her, the way his back muscles shifted against her arms, the anxiety lessening now that she wasn’t alone.
“You’re thinking too loud,” his voice growled next to her, bare feet brushing hers as he adjusted.
“That’s not a thing,” she replied, very much still awake.
Joel sighed and looked at her over his shoulder, “You gonna go to sleep anytime soon or should I go back to my room?”
Rolling her eyes, she met his gaze in the dim lantern light, his irises practically black, “You act like I’m not trying to sleep. Brain’s too wired. Feel free to go back if all you’re gonna do is complain, I didn’t ask you to sleep in here.”
He huffed, facing away from her and let the silence take back over.
This time the silence felt weighted, a heavy tension as they both acknowledged that neither of them were sleeping. Using his own words, she could hear him thinking loudly and it kicked up her nerves. She was extra aware of his heat, the press of his back against her arm, the slow and steady way his breath filled the air. It made her sensitive, made the world around her seem to vibrate.
Joel was the one to break the silence again, the words deep and rough with his accent, “I can help, if you want…Distract you so you get to sleep.”
Her heart sped up, the sound like a raging river in her mind. Her skin was tingling.
“How so?” she could hear her own voice get huskier as she whispered back, the barest sound slipping out.
He turned to look at her again over his shoulder, gaze heated, “You know how.” She did. Had more than once imagined his mouth on her, fingers slick with arousal and touching her-
“Didn’t seem that into the idea earlier when you damn near bit my head off,” she scoffed and tried to ignore how every nerve was on fire. How he had been the one to bring it up and what he was offering.
Joel didn’t say anything for a long minute, the memory of her on her knees and his fingers digging into his own thigh fresh. It’d been to rile him up, be a dick to him as he was being to her, but it wasn’t exactly not an invitation. She’d fucked worse to alleviate the tension, to say thanks, to satisfy a need.
“Then maybe you weren’t listening correctly,” he grunted, “You want help or not? The window’s closing fast.”
Only Joel could make offering to get her off sound like a business transaction. But the intention was clear. This wasn’t intimacy, wasn’t passion boiling over, wasn’t romance. It was bodies and tactfulness and practicality.
She nodded, eyes on the ceiling.
“Gonna need it out loud, darlin’,” he muttered lowly.
Darlin. Not Starshine or Red or Hey You. It was a new one. “Okay,” she whispered and chewed on the inside of her cheek. She didn’t look at him, didn’t try and gauge his reaction or the look on his face. As unaffected as she was trying to come across, her heart was in her throat. It’d been a while, a good long while since someone else had touched her and it was Joel of all people breaking that dry spell.
He turned over on his other side to face her and she could feel his eyes, the way they burned into her skin, “Turn over.”
She didn’t argue, didn’t bristle at being ordered, simply faced away. It was better this way. It was too intimate to let him see her face, to watch his, and that wasn’t what this was.
His chest was flush against her back and she could feel his breath against her neck, hands finding her waist as one of his knees pushed between hers. She expected him to be rougher, quicker, more methodical but he was soft and slow, taking his time. His fingers skimmed over her sides and down to her thighs, finding the hem of the worn shirt then the large expanse of bare skin.
His palm was rough against the smooth skin and she bit down on her lip at the contrast in texture, finding she liked the feeling.
Then the tips of his fingers were playing with the band of her underwear as his nose dragged along her neck, hot breath almost causing her to shiver. He slid his fingers along the thin straps, hand brushing against her heated skin and she could feel the edge of the bandage on the back of it. The bandage covering the split knuckles and sliced skin from him beating a man to death.
That kind of rage wasn’t supposed to be a turn on, but it had been. The old her would have been terrified, traumatized, backing away from him out of fear but not the person she was now. He had her back, had watched out for her and been there in the second she had been blinded by her overwhelming need to protect Ellie.
Joel had her.
She pressed herself back into him and could hear his swallowed groan as her ass rubbed against his groin, at his obvious arousal pressing against her.
He didn’t speak and neither did she. Only the sounds of their quickening breaths filled the silence of the living room and then a barely audible gasp as his fingers finally slipped underneath the cloth and found her center already hot and wet. He trailed along her slit, gathering the arousal soaking there, and spread it around, encircling her clit. He took his time, going slow, getting to know her and the sounds she desperately tried to keep locked inside her.
She’d been quiet back in the day. Never been one for dirty talk or loud moans. Maybe because she’d been bashful and inexperienced and easily embarrassed. Soft, breathless, throaty. Now it was more out of instinct, survival, control. There wasn’t much she could control in the world but herself and any noises she made were for her to decide if she wanted them to be heard. So she swallowed the moan that strained to leave her lips as Joel circled her clit even more urgently, lightning shooting through her.
His hand was large, so much bigger than hers. His whole body could probably wrap around her completely, cover her up and shield her from everything around them. Joel was a solid wall behind her and as his finger finally dipped inside, she gripped the pillow tightly in a clawed hand while the other dug into the bicep stretched across her. He curled inside her, thumb pressing down on her clit, and she clenched her teeth against another moan, throwing her head back.
Salt and pepper curls tickled her chin and then his mouth was on her neck, hot and wet with teeth and tongue. She could smell him, gunpowder and musk and pine. Distinctly Joel and she bit down on her tongue hard, welcoming the slight tinge of copper in her attempt to keep from drowning in him. Another finger entered her and she almost sobbed at the stretch.
The coil inside of her was winding tighter and tighter with each stroke, each slow pump, as he managed to tease a part of her that had her delirious with pleasure. He was methodical, precise, bringing her to the edge then pulling back to bring her back down to the shallows before building her up again. It was the perfect kind of torture that had her pushing into hand, searching for more. Her nails were making indents in his skin from how hard she was digging in, struggling to keep herself in control.
At last a gasp slipped through her lips unbidden. A crack forming.
The small sound seemed to almost snap something in Joel.
He cursed, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, before yanking her until she was on her back with his hand still down her panties. Before she could question him, his mouth was latched onto her neck and he was pressing deeper into her all the way to his knuckles, no longer going slow, no longer keeping her turned away from him. Their legs were tangled, thigh between his and hips pulled wider, and she could feel the hard length of his own arousal rubbing against her.
She didn’t stop to wonder if this was about practicality anymore. If this had been part of the unspoken arrangement. Not when his mouth had inched down the collar of her shirt and he was pressing teeth into the small stars along her collarbone, worshiping the slip of skin. No, her hand reached out and pressed against his sweatpants, feeling him and taking in the way he hissed against her skin and jerked into her hand.
Her back arched off the pillows as pleasure grew and their heated pants filled the room. Joel’s beard was scratchy against her skin and she knew there would be red marks all over her neck and across her chest but she didn’t care. His teeth nipped sharp spots of pain into her skin and then he would soothe the spot with his tongue. All while his fingers pumped in and out of her, the slick sound dampened by the underwear he’d shoved aside.
Her own hand gripped him through his sweatpants, feeling his weight and length, mouth almost going dry at the size. He didn’t protest, didn’t say anything when she slipped her hand under the band of pants and past his underwear, feeling the hot velvet skin of his erection and passing a thumb over the tip to collect the moisture there. Instead he bit down harder and jutted into her hand, rocking and thrusting faster into her.
Fuck, he was big and onehanded she stroked him the best she could, blind in the dark and moving in time with him. She was close, could feel the coil going taut and her breath coming out faster and faster. Her own face pressed into his shoulder, feeling the tight muscles in the arm holding himself over her. He almost seemed to shiver as she dragged her mouth along his skin then bit down, groaning open mouthed onto him as her orgasm crashed hard and unyielding.
She didn’t slow down, didn’t release him, even as her body felt loose and HER breath came out in shaky pants. No, she had him and wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to take control over the smuggler. She stroked from tip to base, massaging him and drawing out his grunts with each movement. His fingers pulled out of her and gripped her thigh, smearing her own arousal all over the skin and digging in tight enough to bruise.
“Fuck,” Joel hissed into her neck and she let go of the pillow she had been gripping with her free hand, combing through his hair and running nails along his scalp. She wanted to tear him open with her claws, rip away the hardened shell he’d built around himself and climb into him. Force some vulnerability to the surface in the same way he had with her. Revenge maybe, but the word didn’t feel right.
He pushed himself up and finally met her gaze, their breath mingling as their eyes found each other in the dark. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, felt almost more exposed than when his fingers were deep inside her. But she didn’t break her stride, didn’t blink or look away. She met him head on and it reminded her of that first day they had met.
Saving Ellie, killing that man with a baseball bat, equal amounts of fury and brokenness meeting the other. A mirror.
Joel grit his teeth and she watched the words “fuck it” shape on his lips but never forming sound before his lips were on hers. She hadn’t been expecting it. Kissing was for intimacy and this wasn’t that. But the kiss wasn’t gentle or soft or tentative, instead a clash that shook their bones. He was trying to devour her and she was trying to dominate him, his weight pressing down into her fully. She moaned into his mouth and hooked a leg around his waist, trying to draw him in as close as possible with her hand still tangled in his hair.
She couldn’t define his taste. It was…Joel. Earthy and sweet and intoxicating. His tongue discovered every crevice of her mouth, sliding along hers, and she tugged at his hair until a hiss danced along their lips. Kissing Joel Miller was dangerous in its addiction. Her lungs burned and she thought she could taste copper, blood, but she couldn’t get enough, wanting to swallow every innocuous sound that left his throat because they were the only pieces of himself he let go of freely.
She palmed his member, massaging it and feeling how desperate he was for release, before finally pulling away enough to whisper against him, “You can either fuck my hand or you can fuck me, Miller. What’s it gonna be?”
He groaned as she squeezed him harder, hips jerking, “Jesus Christ…”
Then his hands were tugging her underwear down in answer and he was on top of her fully between her thighs, lips bruising while she released him and helped yank his sweatpants down. It was frantic, hands clawing, teeth biting. A desperation she hadn’t felt in a while, only akin to when things were life or death and she was fighting for her life.
Practicality had gone out the window and she wasn’t sure when it had happened.
She felt alive, sharp and bright, and that had her fully pulling him to her, feeling him slide along her wet core heavy and pulsing and so fucking good. Joel braced himself with an elbow beside her head, muscles straining, hand gripping her hair tightly to keep her lips against his. His other fist pumped himself, sliding against her clit and drawing breathless moans into his mouth.
There was no discussion about going slow, about making sure she was ready or stretched enough for him. That required a level of care, affection.
No, that wasn’t them. Inside he hitched her leg higher around his waist and pushed into her fast and rough. Both of them groaned at the stretch, at the way he filled her completely, teeth swallowing the sounds. It never left their mouths, wasn’t for the world to hear, simply passed from one to the other like a secret.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him flush against her as he started to move. The proximity had him grinding against her, the rough hairs at his base adding friction and sending sparks through her. It was fast and bordered on painful, but it only heightened the feeling for her. She didn’t want him to be gentle with her, didn’t want to be handled like a doll.
She needed to feel something even if it was pain and god, if the man didn’t cause every single inch of her to alight with fire.
“Fucking hell,” he whispered against her, the words a growl as he broke from her mouth and pressed his forehead to her shoulder, “Feel so fucking good.”
His thrusts were beginning to lose their rhythm, going faster and harder as if he was aiming to tear her in half. She only wrapped both legs around his waist, hooking them at the ankle, the silent promise that she was fully along for the ride until the end.
“This better than me on my knees, Miller,” she hissed, fingers tightening on his curls.
He gripped the back of her head and drove deeper into her almost in answer, “Shut the fuck up, darlin’.”
There was a reply on her lips but it never managed to escape, his lips crushing hers as they both began to hit the edge. She pulsed and tightened around him as her orgasm hit her like a freight train, lightning searing every nerve and dragging Joel down with her. He came hard with her, his warm release filling her and coating both of them as he fucked her through the last waves and aftershocks of their climax.
Their breathless pants wrapped around them and painted their lips, a few centimeters apart but not fully pulled away from the other. She could feel him twitching inside of, was drowning in his scent and that familiar whiff of sex that clung to them. Even with his weight bearing down onto her, she felt good, filled to the brim, awake.
Joel groaned, forehead against hers, sweat trickling down his neck and into the collar of his shirt, “Fuck.”
“Ditto,” she mumbled, trying to catch her breath, releasing her tight grip on his hair and sliding it along his bag. He almost shivered at the slight caress.
“I should have pulled out,” he frowned, brow furrowed as reality started to sink in.
“It’s fine,” she answered heavily and fell back fully against the pillow, neck stretched beneath him, “Can’t get pregnant. Plumbing don’t work.” Her sentences were stuttered, short and to the point as a clear indication that it wasn’t a topic she wanted to elaborate on. It was the smallest admittance of something personal, a rarity between them, and he filed it away in the back of his mind.
He nodded and lifted himself up, only giving her a small warning before sliding himself from her. They both groaned at the sensation and loss of warmth, laying on their backs side by side under the blanket. The air was much cooler on their sweat slicked skin and in the back of her mind she was thankful that at least she’d get to take a shower in the morning.
A second later though, her thoughts were cut off when Joel grabbed her and tugged her closer into his side, her arm across his chest. She froze, not quite expecting him to even acknowledge her after the deed was done, much less want to touch her. His ankle was still wrapped around hers and the threadbare shirt was soft under her cheek, his hand resting on her shoulder.
“Didn’t take you for a cuddler,” the words lacked their usual mocking tone or bite, bordered on unsurety. This was out of her comfort zone and she was stiff, in unfamiliar territory with the smuggler. Sex and rage she knew, but not…whatever this was.
“Shut up and go to sleep, Red,” Joel’s eyes were already closed, breathing relaxed and even. He wasn’t rising to take the bait, all the fight gone out of him. Biting her lip, she sighed.
And true to his word, she followed him into slumber quickly after, leaving the new aspect of their relationship to ponder in the daylight.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x oc#joel miller x feral reader#tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou fanfic#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fanfic#raicodoll writes#fic: monsters#fic: teeth#Feral Reader Series#I guess that's what we're calling it now lol#OC: Red#joel miller#series: feral
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Werewolf!Cassian x reader: Full Moon[*]
A/N: I hope this makes you as happy as it made me :)
Warnings: oral (f receiving), smut, monsterfucking, slight impact play
Word Count: 2,800 (on the dot!!)
A cool breeze brushes up your calves, making you shiver; press deeper into his fur.
“Cold?”
Your spine tingles, having nothing to do with the night air. His voice is deeper, slightly warped to carry an animalistic growl lacing every letter. Fingers thread through the thick, dark fur, leaning down, so your front is pressed to the nape of his neck, chin propped up between his ears. “Not anymore.”
His laugh rumbles through you, cooking up something hot and syrupy between your thighs. Spine arches a little, lips quirking helplessly. “We’re almost there,” he reassures, continuing silently through the woods, prowling between the thick evergreens. Silvery moonlight catches on the pinecones, making them glitter—dusted with frost.
Tendrils of mist curl from your mouth, making his ears twitch as the hot air hits them. You laugh at the reaction, raising one hand to scratch at their backs. A low purr resounds from his chest, thighs squeezing his sides in mutual pleasure. “I love your fur, you know,” you mumble softly, fingers playing with him roughly. Another purr growls from his maw; your lips stretch into a smile.
With your front pressed directly onto him, and the cloak sealing in his heat, you’re baking. Cooking pleasantly while the chilly night air licks at your ankles, playing with the hem of your dress. “Where are you taking me, again?” You ask, shifting to get comfortable. Muscle ripples beneath you with each silent paw forward, and with your ear pressed against him, you can pick out the steady beat of his heart.
“Patient,” he reminds, head raising as if to look at you. “Good things come to those who keep their mouths shut,” he purrs, mirth clear in his voice.
“I thought you liked my mouth, Cassie,” you tease, grinning in the night air, pressing yourself closer so there’s no way he can’t feel the swell of your breasts. You’re rewarded with a rough growl, hands and thighs gripping tighter as he leaps across a stream, mist curling up from the water.
The trees open up into a small clearing, that in turn leads to a cliff face. You blink, not quite believing your eyes, then sit up straighter. “Cassian…” you breathe, “what is this place?”
“I thought you’d like it,” he replies, tail swishing behind him in the knee length grass. “Now behave and hop off.” Lips quirk at his tone, swinging one leg over his back, sliding off once he’d settled low.
Hesitantly, you wander near the ledge, keeping a safe distance as you peer out across the world. Lights pull into constellations in the distance, showing small settlements and villages dotted across the grassland. The clouds are pillowy and silver, softened by moonlight, stars twinkling in the night sky.
“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, turning to peer at him, hazel already watching you. “How did—” You fumble for words, looking back across the world. “How did you even find a place like this?”
Cassian prowls up beside you, shifting into the form you’d met him in. Strong arms wrap around your ribcage, hands grazing beneath your breasts in a show of affection. “I take it you like this,” he chuckles, squeezing softly, careful not to hurt. “It’s amazing,” you reply, craning your neck to peer up at him. “Perfect.”
Arms release you, slowly moving to your hips as he turns you around, keeping you pressed tight. “Good,” he purrs, hazel eyes gleaming with hunger, moonlight softening the planes of his features. “You deserve perfect.” His head dips, lips parting over your own, and you melt into him. Spine curves, hips press close, tongue strokes the roof of your mouth.
A sound of need works its way up the back of your throat, hands moving to tangle in his hair, desperate to have him closer. He growls in response, fingers tracing your spine, reaching its base. Grips your ass, teeth grazing your lip as he squeezes, hips bucking. Hand threads in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat, canines grazing the smooth column.
“Cassian…” you breathe, clinging onto the male before you, soaking in his heat and pleasure. Lips quirk against your skin, “manners, sweetheart.” Fangs nip, and you gasp, spine arching. “You’re such a dick,” you whisper, laughter clear in your voice. Hot breath puffs over the expanse of your shoulder as he mirrors your reaction, the deep timbre of his mirth making need bubble beneath your skin.
“That’s no way to speak to me,” he laughs. “I thought you wanted this.” Hands grip your hips, pulling you tight against him, allowing you to feel the shape of his arousal. Just like that, fight disintegrates, indignation leaving your body as you flush. “I do,” you pant. “Give it to me.”
He lands a harsh spank to your ass, making you yelp, then glare at him, arousal clear in your scent. “I thought I told you to learn some damn manners, sweetheart. How can you expect me to reward bad behaviour?” He tugs you further from his mouth, making you whine. “What do you want?” You breathe, dark hazel locking with your own gaze.
A smirk graces his mouth and your knees go weak, muscles having trouble keeping you upright. Eyes flick over your shoulder, “go lie down for me.”
Cassian releases you; you blink. Confused.
His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth in reprimand, heat liquidating in the pit of your stomach. Reluctantly, you move out of his warmth, wrapping your cloak tighter to your body, hastily choosing a nice spot in the grass. Lower to the ground. Watch him expectantly.
“Better,” he drawls, male arrogance gleaming in his sharp eyes. “You can be good after all.” Teeth push into your lip, forcing yourself not to snap a retort. Satisfaction glitters down the bond; you shiver. Pleasure pooling. Grin turns a little feline as he begins prowling forward. “Now, sweetheart,” he begins, and you watch, blood heating as he shifts slightly before you eyes. “Open up for me.”
Breath catches in your lungs as you figure his intentions. Why he’s transforming to that partially bestial form. Why that hunger is so prominent. And you’re utterly at its mercy.
Throat rolls, heart spikes, thighs spread. Lips twist at your obedience, canines far more prominent, nails sharpened into claws that scrape across your skin as he arrogantly settles between your legs. Hooks them over his broad shoulders. “We’re far away from any kind of civilisation,” he growls lowly, your toes curling, chest rising and falling with anticipation. “Don’t be afraid to get a little more vocal.”
Insides turn molten, the last thoughts leaving your head.
Canines snag on the band of your underwear, cotton burning your skin as he slowly tears it from your hips, leaving you naked and glistening before him. Mouth prone to attack. Arms tremble with the force of keeping your upper half elevated, wanting desperately to see—to watch everything he’s about to do.
“Please, Cassian,” you moan softly, ankles crossing at his back, trying to pull him closer—deeper to your heat. Tongue laps over his lower lip, roughened by the partial transformation, spine tingling at the sight. And how is he ever supposed to resist?
Heavy breath gushes from your mouth as he lays the flat of his tongue over your clit, swiping over it in a teasing motion, making you buck upward, whining at the stimulation. The bumps are ever so slightly more pronounced than on a human tongue, raised almost explicitly for your pleasure, to add that edge of roughness.
He’s returning for more almost instantly, the hot, wet muscle pressing against your entrance, licking and lapping as he sets to work on pulling you apart. So you can know the stars are watching as you come on his tongue.
His cock stiffens at the thought alone.
You curse under your breath as his tongue slides into you, curling deeper than your own fingers can reach. Eyes roll back, falling onto your forearms as he pushes inside your heat. Thighs spread further, inviting him closer—until his nose is pressed flush to your clit.
“Cassian…” you pant, finally collapsing down into the grass, staring up into the inky sky, splattered with twinkling lights. “Cassian, please…oh gods…” Vision blurs, heat overwhelming your body as his thumb drags over the sensitive bud, claw lightly grazing your inner thigh. Swiping back and forth, leisurely stroking you to the beat of your heart. Lower lip wobbles, breaths gasping, legs locking over his shoulders.
He purrs, powerful, sporadic vibrations coating his tongue, bordering on a sinful, low laugh. Dark dots blink across your gaze, back bowing from the ground, the wet muscle curling against a sensitive spot that he knows makes you weak. Steadily presses agains it, rubbing the rough flat of his tongue over it, abusing it until you’re trembling; on the verge of coming apart.
Nipples peak beneath your cloak, teeth prodding into your lip with pleasure, coil tightening with the stimulation. Toes curl as you squeeze your eyes shut, skin bubbling with heat, soaring higher, and higher, and—
You whimper when his tongue retracts, hands leaving your skin feeling cold and empty. Eyes fly open, searching to locate him. The smug bastard is grinning, settling back on his heels as he watches you. Tongue laps over his mouth, bringing more of your taste.
“Cassian,” you whimper, “come back here.” Thighs open for him, hazel licking up over your heat, hot and messy from his attention. Arousal begs to be itched, but he stays where he is, simply enjoying you squirm for no other reason than to get off on how badly you need him. He is instrumental to your pleasure. The foundation it is built upon.
Skittishly, you push up on one hand, the other settling between your thighs.
The second the pad of your middle finger locates your clit, he growls sharply, making you jerk, toes curling.
“You want to feel good, sweetheart?” He drawls, allowing himself to fall back into the grass, palms pressed flat to the ground. All lethal grace and fluid movement. “Come up here and make yourself feel good.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, you’re scrambling forward, clumsily crawling over to him. Sharp hazel gleams with satisfaction as he grips your jaw between his hands, slanting his mouth over your own, sharing the flavour of your arousal. You nearly collapse on top of him from pleasure, muscles spasming as you’re caught between wanting his mouth on your own, and having it between your legs.
Cassian saves you the decision when he pulls back, saliva connecting you. Lands a firm spank to your behind, spurring you into action as you crawl up his body. Large hands guide your thighs either side of his head, so you’re encompassing his view. Before you’re even had a chance to sit yourself down, his tongue is flicking over you, pleasure zapping your clit at the texture.
Legs spread, allowing him to pull you down onto his mouth.
Eyes roll back, head tipping, a loud moan spilling form you as his inhuman tongue presses into you, fills you up. Curls against the spots again, targeting them with punishing intent. Hips swirling over his face, surely soaking him in arousal. You know it pleases him. Just as it does for you when he spills into your mouth, splattering across your lips and cheeks. How he likes it when you scoop it up on your fingertips, lapping at it, keeping his gaze locked with your own.
Right now, your hands thread in his hair. Fumble. Fall forward, palms splaying in the grass as you wind your hips over him, recreating the movements of when you’re riding his cock—having him buck up into your cunt, touching the places that make you sob. His nose bumps your clit repeatedly, intentional on his part, and the loudest moan yet breaks from your chest.
Thighs tremble and spasm as he works you through the high, allows you to sink your weight onto him without worry of hurting him. Cassian’s own mind goes blank as he feels you fluttering around him, tasting the shift in your flavour, the concentration of pleasure making him buck his hips. He needs to put himself inside you, needs to have you screaming and begging for more.
Before the waves have even fully subsided, he’s roughly flipping you onto the ground, pinning you to the grass as his hands fumble with the ties of his trousers. Your hips buck as the aftershocks begin to fade too quickly, and you reach for him, clawing at the air desperately. “Cass…Cassie…” You pant, air curling from your lips in the cool night wind. “Cassian— Please!”
His tip presses to your entrance, a sharp growl splitting form his throat as his canines grow, pupils dilating. Snarling as his body shifts to fit perfectly with your own.
Spine bows from the grass as you feel him slide into you, pushing you into the ground as his hips meet the backs of your thighs. Lips part in a silent moan, arms wrapping over his broad shoulders, fingers threading in his hair. “Cassian…oh my gods…”
He snarls a rough laugh, becoming more beastly than human. “That’s it,” he growls roughly. “Take every damn inch. Feel that?” His hand splays across your lower abdomen, feeling where the skin lifts to accompany his size. Tears well at your lashes, hips bucking wildly as you urge him to move, to slam into you, to fuck you until you’re up with the stars, too.
“Cassian, please…gods, please…” Hot streams of salty water spill down your cheeks, ankles crossing as you pull him deeper, both of you groaning at the pleasure.
The muscles in his arms flex as he draws back, and slams back in. Not even giving you the chance to prepare.
Breath whooshes from your lungs, and you might have screamed. Nails scrape at the skin of his back, strength rippling beneath your fingertips as he pounds into you, the softest brush of fur silkily grazing your thighs whenever he presses all the way in.
It’s different from how he’s taken you before—you can feel more of him. In this form, you have access to everything about him. The soft hairs dusting his lower abdomen, leading down to his cock, how it swells abnormally beneath the tip, how he uses it to abuse that poor spot over and over.
Tears stream from your eyes, teeth scrape your throat, grazing a patch between your neck and shoulder, before stamping in his mark. One of your hands threads in his hair, head twisting to the side to make room for him, legs widening so he can do whatever he wants. His own move to your hips, satisfied with the bitemark he’s printed on your skin, angling them higher—raising them from the ground.
A cry pulls from your chest at the position. How deep he can go while his fingertips dig into the softness of your hips and waist, keeping you steady as he uses you to his pleasure.
Heat buzzes between your legs, hands grappling for something to hold onto as he pounds your sensitive sex, treating her so roughly you could scream from how good it feels.
The euphoria builds, multiplying so rapidly it completely knocks you off your feet when your orgasm crashes down. His name chants on your lips, a series of pleads and prayers as your eyes go wide, back arching to the full moon as your head tips back into the grass. Thumb gently rolls over your clit, careful not to overwhelm you and cut it short. He needs to feel you spasming around him for as long as possible.
Cassian curses under his breath, swearing viciously as he grinds his hips against your own, spurting into you. Letting you feel all of it. The hot, thick liquid spilling inside your heat, Cassian making sure it’s tucked deep inside, unable to resist the primal urge to stuff you full until you’re as satisfied as he is.
Heavy pants fill the open clearing, limbs tangled together, joined in a hot mess of release.
It takes you minutes to remember words, and that’s too long for him to wait, set on pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body. Already hardening again against your sensitive walls, making you whimper with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Teeth push into your lip as he starts up all over again, working you to that edge, thumb swiping over your clit despite the sensitivity that makes your thighs tremble. You already knew it was going to be a long night, but only now is the realisation dawning on you. What kind of mess you’ve gotten into with him.
General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022
#Cassian#Werewolf!Cassian#October#Cassian smut#Cassian x reader smut#acosf#werewolf!Cassian smut#acotar#Werewolf!Cassian x reader smut
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Darkness consumed her, clinging to the curvature of her silhouette, transforming and defining her attire. She was adorned in her proper raiments, garments which billowed around her ankles. The shadows of her hounds rose, scaling the walls, climbing high above the awnings until the sliver of moonlight had all been engulfed in nothingness. He wanted this, to push her to the brink of enshrouding herself. To see her for what she was.
One of the lanterns peeled away the tenebrous shadows; from above one came to life suddenly. The ghastly light descended and a terrible maw formed then divorced, giving way to a tongue that rolled out, with a glaring eye was fixated on the target of its mistress, whose frigid touch held it in place.
"Finally, you're here..beloved."
His mouth watered at the idea of tasting divinity, to feel those same hands she denied him pressed against his face in praise. His beloved indeed, his beloved. In this state of hers, he would finally prove himself worthy, to stand at her side, even if everyone else had to fall for the sake of this.
To his knees, and into a pool of rain, he fell before her. She saw what had become of him as the light finally reached his form. His features revealed themselves to her. This is what envy, desire, and loathing do, give birth to a demon, one who pollutes the tranquility of their soul, their heart decays, and any purity it holds diminishes and allows another to gain control.
To manipulate.
"My lady," he could barely recognize his own voice as he addressed her, but the feelings were still there, sprouting with each word. "Would you accept it now, that I am the only one who knows what you are, who can protect you, who can give.. and take."
Each word fell on deaf ears, nothing but an insect's buzzing escaped his lips. Her eyes glanced at him but once and soon settled upon the blade that he flaunted, brandished. Still, there is no expression on her features, her gaze is as empty as before. Sympathy, anger, despair? She was numbed to it all. But to destroy lives, trap the souls purged from their physical forms, followed by the audacity of offering them up to death as if they were a prize.
It was offensive.
The wails and agonized whispers resonating from this accursed blade would be silenced, and these souls would find release.
Without warning, his throat was seized by tendrils rising from the penumbra at his feet, betraying him as she watched them take form and grow defined. He was going to be dragged under by hands, hands that took the form of the people he killed, of the corpses he left behind. Mercilessly they scratched and pulled, trying to sink him into the stone, to be devoured by the shadows of her manifested domain. Into the world of darkness.
"I have killed for you! Always for you! Yet it is not enough!"
He hated it, always being second place. To the clan, to his brother, and now she would treat him like the others. Never good enough, even compared to some worthless merchant who would piss himself if he confronted the monstrosities she loved.
He hated her for it.
And if she would not have him. He would have her, her life, her soul, her body.
"I will be the last thing you see!"
Against his bindings, he lashes out and pushes off the ground in unnatural strength, like a beast that has been taunted too long. Even Kikyo had to take a slight step back, though there was no semblance of fear in her steady gaze, a hint of disappointment graced her lips but dissolved within a heartbeat as her eyes shifted to a space behind him, looking beyond where he knelt.
The indignation he tried to keep in check, shatters past the delicate binds that kept his mind from unraveling, it erupted at once in a strangled roar as he clawed at the fronds of his shadows, but kept a hand clutching the sword he offered, refusing to release it to save his own life.
Then his wail soon joined the cacophonous symphony played into the air as her geta pressed to his wrist and a gruesome crunch splinters through the cries. There is no satisfaction on her face, only watching his desperate attempt to grab at her ankle, only to have his arm pulled back by force and snap at an angle that would send an ordinary man buckling to the ground. But despite breaking his bones, the humiliation of her giving her back to him caused him to foam at the mouth.
Broken bones would not stop him, the umbral bonds were broken and he launched himself forward, but stopped suddenly. Her hound's claws took hold of the demonic horns and snapped them in a sound akin to a twig. A piercing pain and head-splitting sound imploded in his head, and darkness flashed behind his eyes like a Rorschach test.
Limb arms swung, his claws swiped at the air, at fabric, trying to get to her flesh, to disfigure her. To imprint his agony on her in any way, any method, he could. This was his vengeance, for choosing a lesser creation he would brand her as a reminder.
Then suddenly a flash of light and steel broke past the gloom.
And the world grew silent.
The flame of his life was suddenly snuffed but it was not by her hand, nor that of her shikigami who stood vigilantly, but by another. Another who despite his own injuries, still adhered to his orders, who would not sway from his duty.
#ffxiv#ffxiv screenshot#ff14 screenshot#ffxiv writing#tw: blood#I promise it is almost over#well it is over for HIM atleast
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Some neat comic-based details from episode 7 of MAWS
(slight spoilers below for the episode, the 00's Justice League animated series, and for certain DC comics)
So,
When the Lois League make their episode debut, they say our Lois and our Jimmy (and by extension, our Clark) are from Earth-12.
That means it canonically firmly falls under the same DCAU universe that Batman: the Animated Series, STAS, and Batman Beyond.
And that also places it firmly into what's called "the Cartoon Rim" of the DC multiverse
Now, when Mxy's cycling Clark through the different design iterations, he calls out more Earths:
Earth-Twelve, Earth-50, Earth-508, and Weird Earth.
Now, I think the animation team switched up the showcase order a bit, and I'll show you why when I describe each Earth as we know them to be in DC Universe.
First:
• Earth-Twelve (or Earth-B): home to Adam West Batman and apparently now the 1940s Superman (who was originally from Earth-2 where, fun fact, Mxyztplk made his first comic appearance/his origin). So making that universe the home of the first mainstream appearances of DC's Golden Staples tracks.
But then,
• He calls out Earth-50 and the image of The Super Friends Superman from the old 70s-80s show appears.
I think this is actually supposed to be representative of Earth-508 Superman, since there is a comic version of the Super Friends that exists and they just used Earth-1956's Superman as an indicator for that. Which is fair, since the actual ones are copyright owned by Fisher-Price lol.
Now,
The real interesting part is that would make the Earth that the S:TAS/JLU Superman belongs to Earth-50 if the 508 switchup is true. Which seems like another mistake right?
Except
Earth-50 as it is known originated from the Justice League animated series and was established as a parallel sister world to Earth-12, going through the same events until a major event cascades to turn the Justice League into the Justice Lords, a darker and more authoritarian version of themselves.
But that event doesn't happen until years later.
(Keen eyes will notice we see this Superman reference later in the episode as well)
So, if the timelines are staying equal with Clark/Superman staying around the same age of 22-23 that he has been around the start of his appearance in Metropolis/working at the Daily Planet, then the Earth-50 Superman would still look like the normal S:TAS Superman!
So now, I bet you're asking why would they do the Earth switchup in the first place?
Well, mainly the whole scene exists for a nice timeline callback/easter egg for the animation history of Superman as a whole, and the script writers and animators probably didn't think we would catch on.
BUT
I also think, in-universe, that it is just Mxyztplk playing a little trick on curious viewers who would go lore diving and comic folks who would be paying attention.
That is, if it's all intentional.
Sorry for a super prolonged nerd rant on a pretty harmless scene.
I just happened to see it and my brain latched onto the familiar numbers and made a murder board lol.
Anyway, thanks for reading!
#my adventures with superman#maws#maws spoilers#maws theory#Mxyztplk#dc comics#my adventures with superman spoilers#my Adventures with superman episode 7#kiss kiss fall in portal#clark kent#maws clark kent#dcau#dc universe#earth 12#earth B dc#earth 50#justice league#justice lords#justice leauge unlimited#super friends#superman#ravings of a mad comic fan#neat little details
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YANDERE VORE. GODDAMN. I LOVE IT ,, MORE PLEEEASE
(This is a continuation to "DO NOT disobey that trust". In this the character fails to run for the first time. Warning, this is a little heavier than before. And this is the Masterlist for the different endings).
My moments of freedom were cut short…I had studied, watched, and waited for a week. During that time, he always stayed close to me. He'd usually get very touchy, brushing my hair away, pinching my cheeks, or randomly picking me up out of nowhere and holding me close.
Yet, I never felt at peace in his presence. He'd always be watching, tentatively. It was like he waited for me to mess up, or do something against him. So I had to be cautious and make sure I knew the time he left and for how long. It was approximately three hours, every day.
The locks at his doors were like puzzles, so I had to see how he undid them, one every other day. I thought if he saw me watching too long, he'd get suspicious. I would have broken the windows of the cabin but they were barred, and I was far too afraid to fight him even with a weapon. He could easily overpower me, and he demonstrated his strength constantly by holding me to his own whim.
Though I was too hasty I waited an hour to make sure he was gone or far enough from the cabin to notice me undoing the locks. As I knew the puzzles had to be done on either side to unlock.
While doing the last one, I ran into trouble. I frantically tried to put them all back, but couldn't do that either. So I had to work on finishing it the best I could.
It took over an hour to do it and feel the fresh, crisp breeze on my face. I had not set foot outside since he had captured me. And even though it hurt to run on my bare feet, I was happy to be free.
It didn't last.
He held my arm and dragged me back into the house. We went over the threshold and inside. He kicked his leg back into the door, it didn’t shut properly but got stuck by the force. He pulled me past the living room and to the dining table.
THUCK.
He threw the corpse onto the table. It was another person who I met at the lake near town. I had no idea whether they would have helped me or not, but now they were lifeless.
He swung me over to face him. I didn't try to break the grip as he held the hunting knife.
“What was our one promise?”
My lip quivered. “Uh…I-”
His smile wavered, he slammed the knife into the table near the corpse. “What was it?”
I exclaimed, “Don’t disobey your trust!”
He hummed while nodding and got closer to me. He let go of my wrist and I fell back into a chair. “That’s right. And what did you decide to do?”
“R-r-run.”
“Uh-huh.” He was close to my own face. “You ran away,” a chuckle started to spring to life, filling the dense room. “After everything I’ve done for you.”
He put a hand over his mouth, gripping at his cheeks, “I’ve been keeping you safe, my precious…” His other hand came up and caressed my face. I knew he could easily encompass it and crush my head. “sweet treasure.”
I shivered at his touch, and his sharp gaze.
He glanced back at the corpse, pulling his hand away from me and his face. I slightly moved in my chair and he grabbed the knife from the table. He pointed it at me, so swiftly that I didn't gasp until after. My body straightened in the chair my size.
"You're not going to leave me again." He said with grip.
"I….un-understand." I stared at the tip.
He noticed he had the knife pointed at me and lowered it with a kind smile.
He pressed his left fingers forward and moved some of my hair from my face. I barely took a breath let alone moved.
"That's wonderful to hear…" he trailed off petting my cheek. "You're very cute.”
“T-th-”
Before I could finish, he spoke again, “it’s a shame I have to punish you.”
I flinched and my mouth opened but I couldn't speak.
He tapped the knife to his chin, "maybe I'll take a finger? You didn't get far and I've been wanting to try it…" He muttered aloud.
A soft whimper left my throat, "what."
He pet my head after hearing it. He sheathed his knife in the case at his back belt loop.
"You need to learn." He said, lightly, he picked up my wrist. "And once you do, we can be happy like before and not have to worry about this EVER AGAIN."
I realized where my hand was and that he held it by his lips. I tried to pull it away but his grip locked. Then, his other arm went over the top part of my chest to make sure my body stayed put.
I couldn’t close my hand in time. He slipped my pointer finger into his mouth.
He purred over it with his tongue, stroking it inside his mouth almost delicately while his teeth brushed my skin.
“I won’t run away again,” I whimpered, “please, don’t.”
He pulled back, allowing my glossed finger freedom. His warm breath casted over it. I forced my fist closed, and his deep wine colored hue laid over my hand, infatuated.
A smirk quivered up, “are you trying to avoid your punishment?" His tongue crept out, slathering across my bare knuckles.
His vision relaxed as he did so, while I felt far too unsettled to thrash. His twisted smile rose. He slowly opened his mouth wider to put my fist in it.
His teeth started to slowly press at my wrist, almost pricking me. I shakily whined trying to beat out his own moans as he tasted every inch.
It soon got worse.
He pushed further. His mouth slipped down my arm and I unclenched my hand when it pressed at the back of his throat. I could feel its soft spasms, awaiting his next swallow.
I wanted to pull yet my will wouldn't let me. He nearly had up to my elbow in his mouth and I felt my hand entering his tight esophagus. All the while, his eyes were occupied with pleasure.
Though, something made him release. He let up, and because I was teetering over in my chair, I fell off. I hit the ground far to worried about my wet arm then the drop. I cradled it close to myself.
He gulped thickly, before a laugh traveled out.
“Your flesh is so soft and tender.~” He said between his snickering as he crouched. I wanted to crawl but my legs were weak.
“It makes you so VERY special.” He gave a deep exhale, obsessively eyeing my arm, almost like he wanted to take it from me.
And he grabbed at the wrist that cradled it. He pulled it toward himself, and started to wet it as well suckling over my forearm.
I cried out, and he let go. He inspected me as if he dislocated my arm with his hard tugging. It allowed me to push back and create more distance between us.
He stood up, “sorry, dear, I really can’t help myself.”
I kept my lips pursed, not knowing what to say or do. He was larger than me, nearly twice my height, but seeing his mouth open, feeling the sharp edges of his teeth, and the push of his strong wet, throat and tongue muscles, I was afraid.
“I-I’m so-so-sorry.” I could only apologize and hope he was done.
He smiled lovingly. It looked like he adored the fear in my voice and on my face.
He walked to me with heavy stomps of his boots.
I trembled as he grabbed me and forced me up. He hunched slightly, and pressed me into his body.
He whispered once he surrounded me, “shh, don’t worry you’re sweet sweet little head.” He lightly squeezed. "That was only a taste of what your punishment will be if you try to run away again.~”
I flinched, not just from his soft serenade of his threat, but from the low, hungry grooowel at his abdomen where my head pressed...
(Hey, thanks for reading and Anon, I hope this satisfies that craving. xD AND YOU READING THIS, YES YOU, HAVE A GREAT DAY!)
#vore writing#vore story#yandere vore?#yandere male#fearplay vore#slight maw play#This was a LOT longer than I am supposed to make requests. I just ran with it.#soft vore#v.0re#luckyshotwrites
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"Pass me the salt dad-", Cale began
At once, seven hands grabbed the salt. Deruth glared at all of them one by one.
"I am his father. He is my son. What are you all even doing here, in my mansion?"
"I just missed my son. Cale, did you miss your father?!," Fredo seemed way too excited despite being an uninvited guest.
Splat!
Eruhaben coughed politely, as if he just did not throw the bowl of soup on Fredo's head," Apologies. My hand…slipped"
Fredo smiled with murder in his eyes. Everyone at the table tensed by the rising bloodlust. With a snap of his fingers he vanished all the soup staining his clothes and smiled again (everyone pointedly ignored his fangs),"Your sanity seems to be slipping in your old age, just like your slippery self. Isnt that right you overgrown lizard?"
Eruhaben seethed. Before he could snap back, a benign voice cut in,
"Grand Duke Fredo, Eruhaben-nim, you should not fight in front of the children. Besides, why are you holding the salt", Ron spoke and lightly caressed his dagger using his other hand.
At once all the rival father figures turned towards the three idiots who began sweating nervously. Alberu did not know what came over him. He seriously did not.
He did not know why he heard daddy instead of dad. Lee Soo Hyuk smiled back at his potential in-laws but Alberu could see his hands trembling minutely. He made the same mistake as well apparently. Alberu was glad he was not gonna die alone. They did not know the bedroom role play would come to bite them in the ass like this.
"That- I-", Choi Han stuttered and everyone's eyes swiveled in his direction and he shrunk under all the attention, "Cale-nim asked for the salt andIdidnothearanythingafterthat-!", and yet his hold did not loosen on the salt.
Alberu and Lsh, despite being in death's maw, did not let go either. Their unofficial competition on who's superior was gonna end today for sure. Both of them simultaneously dodged the two knives which headed straight towards their heart and turned to look at Ron in slight horror.
Eruhaben did not know who to get rid of first, the pests or this blood sucking leech. Fredo seemed to be in the same dilemma as he stared at the golden lizard with a contemplative look in his eyes. Deruth knew he was the weakest but he was the original dad. They don't matter. (Despite that he wasn't able to do anything except watching the shitshow)
Cale did not know what was happening anymore. The kids look extremely entertained on the other hand. Raon did not know why exactly they were fighting when there was another ,perfectly fine, bottle of salt beside him. He carefully levitated it towards Cale," Human! Here! Take this!"
"...."
"..."
"..."
"...."
"Thank you Raon"
Raon giggled happily and his wings fluttered on being praised,"You're welcome human!"
(On shook her head as the defeated groans reached her ears. All of them were so stupid honestly-)
#Yes..Cale was going to say daddy#Thankfully they reacted before he could complete his sentence#Or the dinner would have ended in a bloodbath#:)#trash of the count's family#lout of count’s family#Dads vs Daddies
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do you remember what songs they played 👀?
Absolutely hard as hell question bc I just sat there and absorbed the music in a slight trance. They played twinkling lights, both themes, valiant ol cobb, the purge, and kingshammer FOR SURE. im pretty sure they played hexblood centurions and mee maw’s burden but I am nowhere near certain on those. I also missed some of it because I was in the merch line.
Anyone who was there and actually remembers, feel free to confirm/refute my memories and add anything else.
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Fall Fires
A Here Be Dragons/Hic Sunt Dracones Gift Fic
Dragon!Silco x Fem!Reader NSFW
Rocking up to the party again a month late with starbucks for @sherwood-forests birthday! This is just a sweet little drabble for our beloved Sher to celebrate what a joyous light she is in this fandom. There is no one who is more ready to spread love and kindness than Sher, no one sweeter or more thoughtful or enthusiastic to celebrate the talents and creations of everyone she meets. Most beloved Sher, I hope for all good things in life for you always🖤
In the theme of Sher’s absolutely epic dragon!Silco fic HBD, this is just a little additional treat following Silco and his Feral Consort through the autumn traditions of dragonkind. Sweet and occasionally a little smutty, no real warnings apply unless you’re allergic to fluff, love, or dragon dicks.
It was the final night of the conclave, the bonfires bigger than you’d ever seen them as evening crept in across the sky in bruising plums and a lapping sea of infinite black, stealing the hue from a twilight painted a violent riot of brilliant oranges and sculpted pink clouds. Some of the main fires were bigger than houses in your village had been, heat rolling off them in licking waves that sent the chill of the autumn air scuttling back into the shadows under the massive pine trees that ringed the sacred hilltops like silent sentinels.
The summer months had stretched long and warm at the dragon’s keep in the Northern Pass. Time spent alone with your dragon in the blissful newness of each other, in his near fawning devotion and eager appetite for you, all of you. But as the nights began to lengthen and the heat of the days replaced with the promise of cool, crisp air off the mountains, Silco had grown distant.
At first you’d only noticed it when he took a little longer to join you in the gathered pile of furs that made the bedding nest of the massive bedchamber each evening. But more and more you’d caught him standing alone upon the parapets, staring westward toward the horizon and the sky as if it were speaking, holding silent counsel that only he could discern.
He’d break from the reverie with a touch of your hand, smiling down at you as he came back to himself, even once wrapping arms around you and tumbling backward off the wall into the waiting maw of oblivion, only to delight in your shrieks as he transformed and lifted you high up into the sky, letting you ride until your face was wet from the soft buffeting through the clouds and your teeth chattered as the night set in. It had allayed your concern, if only for a few hours.
Later that night you’d lain awake on his chest, cheek riding the rise and fall of his deep purring, wondering what call it was that your dragon stood heeding, yet would not share with you.
When you caught him at it once more the following evening this time you stopped him trying to distract you with a peppering of kisses, fingers coming to rest gently over his scarred mouth.
“Why won’t my dragon tell me what is weighing on him?” You asked, as he grumbled, submitting in a deep lean to your reach for one of his curling horns, teal eye slanting to a shining turquoise slice as your fingertips went playing along sensitive ridges and griped, tugging at the crest of it, nearly lifting you off your feet by your grasp with a slight roll of his head.
“I will tell you, mousling, but it is a conversation to be had over supper… and perhaps some of that accursed wine you so enjoy.”
With the promise of an explanation at last, you allowed him the delay of roasting dinner, and enjoyed the cups of wine from the pilfered barrels in his hoard that he had no taste or use for. It was a delicious vintage, and while he seemed to enjoy the loosening of your restraints whenever you indulged, could not stomach the taste of it himself. It felt very much a ploy to either distract you or else ease the sting of whatever news he had to share, the way he kept your goblet filled as the evening’s quarry turned on the spit before the great fire within the hall while you both sat listening to the hiss and spit of fat sizzle and crisp.
Silco was long silent before he finally released a rumbling quiet groan of resignation and began.
“You know what season comes?” He asked, the mismatch of eyes sliding your way at last, away from the intent study of his own clawed hands.
“Autumn, yes.”
“Tell me mousling, what the fall brought with it where you come from?”
No need to think too hard on that, the memories were pleasant enough and the question simply answered.
“Harvest, gatherings. Moon celebrations and feasts before the dark of winter came if the summer season was a plentiful one.”
Silco nodded and reached over the flames to pull a hunk of meat from the roasting haunch of venison to lay it upon your trencher before tearing himself a massive handful as well, as mindless of the licking flames and searing heat as if it were but a show of light instead of scalding.
“And the wild things?”
You thought on the question for a moment, sipping at the wine as your meat cooled.
“The squirrels prepared for winter with their own harvest, the deer grew fat, some animals made nests for winter sleep, and many of the birds flew away.”
Silco hummed quietly.
“Autumn is a time for gathering. For migration. And it is also the small death throes of the world, a thinning between the fabric that lies between us and beyond. Magic lies heavy, and there are dead to be honored.” He explained, picking at his dinner to spare you the weight of his glance until he could no longer avoid it, and dragged eyes to your curious gaze once more.
“The dragons gather soon. The conclave will meet. I have not been to a conclave since I was introduced there after my first flight. We dragon are solitary, territorial, but we keep the oldest ways and honor the magic that birthed us. We gather only this once each year, and only if we have need to. I have never had cause to return to a conclave… save now.”
He dropped his unwanted meal upon your trencher and dug claws into the flagstones as he leant forward, demanding your full attention, clearly at odds with the demands of his kind and the insistent pull of nature herself toward what he knew he must do.
“We are joined, mousling. We must present ourselves.”
The scrape of the long, clawed nail of one forefinger etched a line across the stone before it and then a second, parallel line alongside.
“I must present you.”
His trepidation on your behalf warmed your heart nearly as well as the wine had warmed your stomach, and you set goblet aside to come crawling into his lap, much to Silco’s surprise, as he sat back, hands closing upon your hips as you settled arms round his neck and pressed forehead hard to his, so that nothing but the hot coal and cool blue of his eyes filled your vision.
“Does my dragon fret for me? Is that why you’ve been so distant? I’m not afraid of a little harvest gathering.” Not afraid of anything, not with him.
Silco rumbled, groused. Displeased to be humbled before you only to have you flick his concerns aside as easily as flies.
“It has been centuries since I’ve seen another of my kind,” he admitted lowly, “And I do not know if a human mate has ever been welcomed at conclave.”
The admission hung heavy in the air before his grip tightened upon you and he spun you to the floor, pinning you beneath his weight as he gazed down at you fiercely.
“No h-”
“No harm will come to me at your side.” You finished and he nodded slowly before stopping any further interruptions or questions with the hunger of a kiss.
You had anticipated a desperate lovemaking that evening, with him eager to drown his fears and sate your wants, but instead he’d just curled tightly around you and held you in his sleep as if something might come and snatch you from his arms should his grip loosen but a moment. It sparked a small lick of apprehension in you, that a creature you knew to be so fearless should be so stricken. Yet, there was the glow of curiosity, of that adventure you so longed for, and the spice of the unknown that all kept that spark from catching conflagration and consuming you.
A half a week later you’d set off together to join the conclave.
It had been a long flight there, into the west, a journey of several days even with the ground slipping away beneath you as you rode among the clouds. Very glad indeed that Silco had insisted on your dressing warmly, insisted on the fur-lined cloak he’d draped over your shoulders and the warm, sturdy boots laced well up to mid-thigh. He’d grinned when you’d tucked your dagger into your belt but did not argue.
The wind whipped cold around you as you watched the countryside go by beneath, more of the land than you’d ever seen in your brief lifetime, and so beautiful from up above. Everything smaller, simpler looking, and the gorgeous palette of fall colors painting everything as far as the eye could see in lush reds, deep burgundys, brilliant yellows and crisp browns. The fields of wheat moved like great seas of gold, blowing wave after billowing wave against the winds, and the scent of hearthfires from farms and towns wafted enticingly on the breeze.
Silco had allowed that you both stay the evening in a town one night, not sleeping rough in the fields, but rather at an inn and tavern in one of the small villages. He garnered many looks; tall, cowled form nearly brushing his head against the rafters as he towered silently behind you, glowering at all the befuddled locals and their curious stares as you negotiated dinner and a bed.
None dared bother you though, and the warm food was delicious, the simple pleasure of buttered hot bread one you’d forgotten how much you longed for, and welcome indeed alongside the salty brine of hard cheese and the sweet crisp bite of ripe, rosy apples. The meat came in deep trenchers, dripping in a rich, glossy brown sauce alongside roasted whole onions, pale turnips and sweet, thick slices of carrots. Silco devoured it, save for the turnips, and you grinned over a mug of spiced ale as the bar wench jumped at the sound of his voice when he requested seconds be brought.
Well fed and tired from the long flight, Silco was nearly out cold the second he stretched on the straw-stuffed pallet in the small room you’d been given. He barely fit on the bed, legs hanging a good portion off the end, but it hardly seemed to bother him, nearly snoring by the time you climbed atop him, only to roll that flaming red eye down himself to watch you trail a lazy pattern of licking kisses along his chest and stomach as you pushed his shirt up.
“Mousling…”
“Shhhh. You may have eaten your fill, but I still hunger.” You hushed him, only to be rewarded with a low rumbling as your tongue traced teasing little licks above his navel and you buried your face in the soft divot of muscle that ran from hip down into the waist of his pants. Fingers made short work of his stays as one large clawed hand came to rest atop your head, nails fitfully, gently raking at hair, and tail curling up around your thigh to rub lazy soft enticement between your legs as you pulled the twisting mass of his cocks free and set to exploring the texture and taste of them.
“Ahn! M-mousling…!” He huffed breathlessly, the backward toss of his head rending twin tears in the pillow beneath him as you traced little licking passes over the crested pointed heads of his cocks and then up over and over again at the fused corkscrew twist of them until he was stiff and hot to the touch as if you’d pulled him from the fire like a branding iron.
Hands and mouth, wet tongue and hot, slow friction, you worked him as he arched under you, purring, snarling, gasping your name and growling out bliss until he came for you, a hot spill you lapped from his skin before settling over him, warmly exhausted and he already dropped back to sleeping, his trepidation of the coming meeting and distrust of the town around you forgotten for the evening. Your jaw ached and tongue felt raw and new as if it had been scrubbed in sand, but it was a small price for both the satisfaction of his release and the peaceful slumber that welcomed you both.
The next dawn saw you both back in the air before the town had awoken, payment left richly upon the bedside, that they might continue to welcome strangers as peacefully as they had done for you.
The following dawn after that brought the conclave.
The hills you’d flown over were rising steadily, the mountain range they lay at the foot of growing upward into the sky with each passing minute, a massive and long scar of jagged dark rocks and peaks that dwarfed the range of the Northern Pass where Silco had made his home. These were ancient lands, the very roots of the earth disemboweled sometime long ago and thrust as black pillars to the sky. A land shaped by fire deep and hot as any that ever poured from the mouths of dragons, now full of life, and wild as the beasts who gathered there this season to unite for three days and nights.
The clearing spanned several hilltops pressed together, and in the shallow basin of their meeting a stone circle of standing rocks shimmering and black as obsidian. You could see shapes moving below, large shapes, and in the clouds with you were others, circling.
The cries were already lifting as you descended, hands a tightening grip upon the ridges of Silco’s back against the way the wind buffeted and tugged at you as the ground rushed up to meet you both. Silco landed heavily, tossing you bodily forward upon his back. Quickly, you regained your seat, though, the ground trembling under you both as heavy bodies landed all around or came thundering up. Not that you could see much, with how Silco kept his wings lifted, kept you shielded from sight and so blocked off much of your view as well, the length of his neck effectively limiting your vision directly before you too.
Hands slapped to your ears as the deafening chorus rose around you, earsplitting shrieks and piercing, rumbling bellows all around until you too were screaming, shouting loud and long as you could. It was not fear, though it may have begun as some kind of primal noise akin to that. No, this came bubbling up from somewhere deep, just another voice longing for that chorus.
So lost in it, and so determined to dampen the cacophony surrounding you that you failed to notice when all voices had ceased save your own, left alone screaming to the sun and the mountains… until you opened eyes and found Silco’s wings lowering and every gathered dragon staring straight at you.
Voice died in your throat as hands slipped from where you’d pressed them to the sides of your head as you stared back at more dragons than you could have expected in as many and more variety and color as you could have possibly imagined, like a gathering of dark jewels upon the crown of the hilltops. How silly it seemed now, that you had suggested once to Silco that dragons were extinct.
All eyes rested upon you as you slid from Silco’s back with a dip of his wing, only to find him transformed beside you once feet hit the ground, cowl of his cloak pushed back and the curve of his horns jutting proudly to the sky.
Many dragons remained as they were, but many more also took that mind-bending path into human form. Three of the tallest approached, the eldest among them in their center, a proud and wizened creature, no less fiercely strong looking for his long hair shot through with pale whites and silvers and the deep furrowed crinkling at the outer edges of brilliantly pale blue eyes the color of glacial ice.
Beside you Silco shifted tensely, edging closer to you possessively, protectively.
“...Silco?” The tallest dragon asked, squinting, before recognition and Silco’s own dip of a nod confirmed suspicions. A broad, sharp smile broke over the old dragon’s stern face, “It has been many, many years. We welcome you back.”
The tall creature spread open arms and Silco stepped forward, away from you as you stood watching the exchange curiously, feeling very self conscious indeed with so many eyes upon the pair of you. He approached the trio of elders and canted head in a stiff bow that probably ought to have been lower and more deferential, but your proud dragon only offered what he could stomach. The elders accepted and inclined heads back to him in unison, the tallest reaching forth to place a hand upon Silco’s shoulder that you could see him stiffen at, but permit.
“What brings you to conclave at last?” The elder asked, glancing past Silco toward you meaningfully. Silco turned to cast a look over his shoulder with the softness of that teal eye at you.
“I have a mate. We’ve come to have the binding blessed.”
Murmurs kicked up from the gathering, and while you could hear surprise and even delight in their tone, Silco could not, or did not, and you watched him bristle, casting hot glances to and fro around his gathered kin.
Beside you a woman had crept up, and you startled as she slid a hand under your own, glancing up into her face to find a sweet, sharp smile and hair flowing down over shoulders to her waist in strawberry-golden waves, eyes like amber with sun streaming through them.
Silco lurched toward you both with a snarl, only to be stopped by the grip the elder tightened upon his shoulder.
“Welcome, dragon-bound.” The woman purred, stroking a glittering greenish claw of a hand atop your fingers that she held.
“T-Thank you.” You managed, eyes flicking from her to Silco to the elders and back again to the radiant creature that stroked your knuckles so gently. You dipped a curtsey, unsure of what tradition or circumstance demanded, yet it seemed the right thing to do. The elder smiled gently and the woman drew you to herself. Though you could see Silco straining at the grip upon him, struggling to contain his anxious tension, you felt no fear.
“Silco.” The elder murmured, tone not scolding, merely gently walking the line toward reproachful. “I know it has been many years since you joined conclave, but no harm will come to your chosen here. Nor you. Your binding shall be honored.”
The elder turned, letting his hand slide from Silco’s shoulder as he opened the hematite glitter of clawed hands and addressed the gathering in a booming voice.
“We have much to celebrate, and some to mourn. We gather to honor all, to offer gratitude and pay homage in the old ways. THE CONCLAVE IS GATHERED!”
Around you the hilltops rang with dragon song, the towering mountains echoing back the sound like the old roots of the earth recognized the children it had birthed of fire and stone and sang to their return.
Each night passed in ceremony and celebration, in feast and dance and song and fire. Fires built big and burning brightly through the night to dawn and through each day, never extinguished, only heaped higher and brighter until the final night when they burned big as houses, flames leaping and dancing.
The first night had been for mourning the passing of those who had gone before or recently passed, solemn and so beautifully poignant in story and song, in offering and recollection that you could not help but weep for times and creatures passed that you had never known. The second night welcomed the younglings from their first flights, a warm and joyous thankfulness for new life to carry forth the flame of the past, fun and light hearted with the frolickings of the little ones brought to be introduced to all and welcomed to the fold. The third and final night was your own; the blessing of unions, fruit of the future and vine of the past joined together.
Silco had kept you close, regardless of the assurances of the elders, though his wariness seemed to have ebbed as the nights went on and you remained unaccosted and well cared for, even if he seemed to dislike how the pair of you were a novelty, a curiosity among the ranks, and how others flocked in cautious droves to meet the feral consort of their lonesome brethren.
You were enchanted, however, as one beautiful, terrible beast after another came to share your fire, share food or gift you trinkets, as the younglings stole you away to play games in the daylight, and delighted in your gifts of autumn wildflowers as you crowned their little horns with yarrow and goldenrod, thistle and ironweed, and as they squealed at your ghost stories around the feasts at night. All the while your dragon, dark and silent and determinedly protective by your side, gathering you to him each night to kiss your face and tuck you to himself, as hoarded and treasured as gold.
The final night, however, you were separated.
Silco looked distraught as you were led away, folded into a group of dragon mates that surrounded you like tall, kind sentinels. Each eager to meet the human dragon-bound, to welcome you. They descended upon you like a gentle flock of enormous beautiful birds. Passing you hand to hand as you were gently disrobed, bathed and dried, as your hair was brushed out and dried to a lustrous sheen. They spoke in hushed voices, that enchanting golden woman who had greeted you first chief among them as you were prepared.
“We paint you for the blessing, little one.” She explained as your hands and arms were taken and they began the slow process of drawing beautiful patterns and shapes from your wrists up past your elbows. “Tales of your mate’s kin and his past upon your skin. That your story becomes one.”
Fingertips were dipped in the same dark red henna paint and palms, fingers and knuckles carefully traced with your own exquisite pattern of scales. Across your bare back the cool paint was drawn as well.
“Wings for you, consort, may you touch the heavens in love.” The golden-green woman explained the painting upon your back as she wrapped your waist in a fold of a deep plum-colored rich silk that was long enough to trail behind you as you walked, shot through here and there with golden threads that caught the firelight with each movement and gave the slithering, soft fabric a life of its own.
Your eyes were darkened with kohl, lips stained with berries as the lines of the paints dried and hardened and then were wiped away to reveal the beautiful art left behind to saturate skin for many weeks to come in a rich red-brown hue that sang against the color of your complexion.
Your bare chest was adorned with a jingling treasure of gold coins fashioned almost to a loose and light chainmail breastplate, split in twain from sternum down, fastened round your neck and down behind the small of your back with thin gold chains. Every motion sang softly and the loose hanging scales of coins tickled at your skin and stiffened nipples.
“A dowry for your love, from the gathered.” The golden woman explained, as you were fitted with other little trinkets until you shone wrist to ankle, “In welcome and blessing.”
When at last you were adorned to their satisfaction, the coterie drew you forth from where they had sequestered you beneath the pines and followed you in retinue back up the sloping hill toward the largest fire and the stone circle it burned and danced within. Silco waited before the flames, bare to his waist, tail flicking nervously, crowned gloriously with an autumn wreath of leaves and pale birch among the curling reach of his horns He had been painted in licks of gold, traced outline to the shape of each scale running up his arms and whorls of it etched like shining epaulets across shoulders and collarbone. The elder stood beside him, both of them watching your ascent as the other dragons gathered and drew near with your approach, a keening, haunting cry going up, a beautiful low bellowing beneath, as voices raised around you.
Silco was gazing at you as you drew near as if he could not find air to fill his lungs, an ecstatic joy close to pain upon his face, unspeakable in its infatuation. He reached out as you neared, and your hand fitted to the folding grasp of his long clawed hand, always so terribly gentle. The elder took your other hand and both drew you to the edge of the fire, where heat rolled off in heavy waves, brushing back the strands of your hair and gently singeing darkened lashes.
“We join this eve to bless the unions made this year.” Began the elder, “To celebrate the binding of souls. In this we persist. In this our kind is made stronger. You have danced, you have become one, you have shared a flame and food. Tonight, we share blood, and bring you not only to the blessing of your binding, but also to ourselves.”
From around the fire, the two other elders came, one bearing a cup, and the other a glittering blade. The elder dropped your hand as he accepted the blade, and for a heartstopping moment you shied close to Silco as he raised the knife, only to watch him slice open his own arm and hold it over the cup. The blade passed to the other two elders, who did the same, as the tallest of them took the cup in exchange, each bleeding a little into the chalice. Around the gathering it went, until at least ten of the dragons had given their blood, ending with your own. Silco, releasing his gentle grip on you, to bleed himself into the cup before the elder took the knife and gave the chalice to him.
Silco held it out in offering, brows knit and upturned at their center, like he held his heart in his hands for you to devour.
“Drink, dragon-bound, and join our fire.” Intoned the elder, behind you.
Fingers trembled as they closed over Silco’s grasp of the proffered cup, and let him tilt it gently. The fiery liquid lapped at your lips before it filled your mouth, searing and copper as stone, thick and cloying as dripping honey, hot as any pepper spice you’d ever known and indescribable in taste as it flowed down your throat with each thick swallow. It burned like whiskey and lit through your veins the second it hit the pit of your stomach.
Rocking on your feet, your arm was caught by the elder as Silco withdrew the cup. Distantly, you were aware you were being drawn away from him, closer to the flames, watching his face as the heat grew and grew… until you turned to find that the elder held your hand out into the very fire itself, that you had your fingers splayed to the searing soft lick of the brilliant light and yet you did not burn. He released your hand as you reached to toy with the kiss of the flames, fascinated and bewitched.
Among you, that cry went up again, filling the hills and mountains.
“Go to your beloved.” The elder murmured, breaking the reverie as you stared at skin unburnt and felt no fear of the searing heat. No need to be told twice as you glanced up at him and then to Silco waiting, looking for all the world like his heart might burst as you spun from the flames and launched yourself into his arms. He caught you up; his feral, wild, unburnt adored, and devoured the kiss you offered. If the elder had more words of blessing to say they were lost to you as you pressed your forehead to Silco’s, arms wound round his neck and the song of dragons ringing in your ears.
The moon hung full and heavy above, nearly as richly orange as if it had been plucked from one of the fields of ripe pumpkins you’d flown over in your journey here. Beneath you the bed of soft moss and leaves cradled you under the spill of the silk that had been gathered round your waist, now spread bedroll to your joined bodies under the shadows of the dark pines and golden birch, tucked in a private nook of the hills. The scent of bonfires joined the distant joyous ruckus of the gathering, of dancing and song and laughter by the firesides, a chorus mingling with the crickets and the hymn of the late evening forest that lay down beyond the hills. Here you made your own music, soft urgent moans to his deep rumbling, sweet laughter at a tickle and sweeter still a whine of pleasure.
Silco took you slow, though he’d been in a terrible hurry when you’d left the blessing fire together to come here, to finally be alone at last again.
You stood, breathing hard as he circled you with deliberate steps, as if he’d memorize every inch of the beauty the other dragons had wrought you in for him, as if he’d finally quarried the prize he wished and now would take his time at the feast. Heart hammered eager anticipation as he circled, pausing to trace a painted line here or toy with a tendril of coiled hair there, sparking soft little arcs of excitement rushing along skin with each small, teasing touch. Breath leaving you in little sighs as he closed in to brush a kiss to your shoulder, heat of his mouth a welcome reprieve from the goosebumps rising against the chill night air. You held perfectly still, save for the occasional delicious little shiver as he bent to scrape a tender bite to your jaw, to whuffle breath warmly in your hair, sharp blade of his nose crushed to you, drinking in the scent of you.
“Is my dragon pleased?” You asked slyly, the words hitching in your throat as his hips pressed to the back of you, heat of him inviting as large hands splayed along your hips.
Silco hummed approval, agreement, rumbling against you in a way that had you melting back against him.
Clawed hands pulled the silk at your hips loose, let it spread out upon the ground, before running nails lightly over the loose draped shirt of coins you wore. Shirt was a generous term for it, truly it was but a necklace that draped tapering in twin sheets of glittering gold to your waist, two waterfalls of gleaming metal that shone like burnished scales when you moved, concealing breasts alone. It tickled and warmed against the skin, had you gasping as he toyed with it and blushing hot pleasure to hear him purr another deep noise of satisfaction as a clawed hand dipped beneath the golden shimmer to cradle up the soft of one breast.
“They dower you as a princess, my little beauty.” Breath washed a ticklish hot sheet over cheek and chest as he lowered his head to drag his tongue a slow lick along the rise of your cheekbone.
“Mmn, am I glittering enough to add to your hoard?” You teased back with a smile, fingertips running along his gold painted forearms lightly.
“You are the treasure of my heart, mousling.” He murmured low, “If all I had were you, I would still be rich beyond dreams.”
It had your heart clench with pleasant pain within, had you spinning slow to face him, the gentle drag of claws teasing the rise of a nipple as they slid out from under the coined mail.
Mouth pressed tenderly to the heat of his chest, head dipping to press a kiss to the silvery grey scar the spear you had wrenched from him had left behind. Fingers tugged at the stays of his pants, impatient hands slipping over lean hips, progress only halted when he came to his knees before you, putting you nearly face to face with his height, the cool of his touch sliding down to take a possessive, delighted grasp of the curve of your of your bottom, the mismatched sheen of ruby and teal sapphire watching you suck a gasp as he got a cheek in each hand and the prickled points of claws sunk harmlessly into giving flesh.
“You do look beautiful, beloved. Though I like you best in nothing at all.”
It had you raise hands back behind your neck to unfasten the delicate clasp of the necklace and let it slide, tinkling softly, to the forest floor, only to cradle fingers around the sharp angles of his face as the heat of his mouth nuzzled against your collarbone. He drew back just enough to regard the small array of scars he’d left upon your chest; little pale pink weals where his claws had sunk in over your heart, months and months ago. They were not the only scars you’d been left with in your adventure across the Northern Pass with him. Across your upper lip, your cheekbone and through one brow, along with a smattering of others, your early days were written across your skin. Perhaps not as prominently as the grey, deep furrows that marked his left side, but there nonetheless.
“Do you know,” you asked softly, one hand coming to rest upon the broad span of his bare shoulders, as you slid fingertips of the other under his chin to tilt it to you, “If you had torn the heart from me that day, I would still have been happy?”
“What? Why?” He rumbled, dark brows furrowing tightly.
“Because it would have been with you, where it belonged.”
The distant sounds of revelry echoed across the hills behind you as Silco stared up at you in stunned awe, a pained look of exquisite adoration twisting the sharp, darkly handsome marred features of his, so unused to such deep gluts of emotion.
He brushed a kiss featherlight to each of the five little scars he’d left over your heart, eyes turned upward to hold your own. The warmth of your hands had just lifted to cradle his face when he slipped lower, the impossible heat of his tongue coiled round a nipple. Neck arched hard as your face turned to the open heavens above as he sucked slow before the tender pinch of fanged teeth came down and had you rocking into him.
Inch by inch, he took his time, tasting, laving at the softness of you, between breasts and over the gentle slope of stomach, kissing ribs one by one where ragged breath brought them to the surface, tongue dipping, dragging through the indent of your navel before his face pushed hard to the crux of your thighs and the delicious wet heat of his licks slicked along the part of your sex in teasing slow laps.
Clawed hand released it grasp of one soft cheek of your behind to drag the promise of claws along the back of your thigh before he caught your knee and hooked it up over his shoulder, tongue redoubling its efforts as he licked through the soft cleft of your sex, delving between sweet folds, leaving you no choice but to take desperate grasp of his horns and hang on for dear life itself as he devoured you.
Braced on one foot, back arched hard to offer him what was his, you sucked a sharp breath as large hands raked over the soft curves of your backside, as the melting silken heat of his tongue spread you and delved into your wetness, sweet heat slicking through soft folds, teasing every so often at the eager little ache of your clit as he drank you in, rumbling chuckles at the stifled little moaning gasp you made each time he’d let his tongue slide out of you and up, as his hands parted the cleft of your cheeks until you were writhing, fisting the hard, knobbled curl of his horns beneath your fingers and nearly begging he take you already as his tail caressed up the length of your stomach and between the weight of breasts to coil round your throat. Not happy until you were mewling, pressing into him and dripping down your thighs with the teasing.
Each renewed grasp of his horns or trembling stroke of fingers had him grumbling and groaning his own delighted satisfaction. Paying no mind at all to the crown of leaves you were dislodging one by one with your caress, golden and red bits of them falling to flutter across his shoulders to the ground.
“Silco! Please…” You were panting, rocking, standing leg ready to give out before he lifted his head to watch you with a devious, sharp glinting smile. And thank whatever gods held sway over the dark mountains and their dragon gathering that he took pity on you at last and laid you down, gently.
So far gone you barely registered it when he lifted you, laid you on your back against the silk, save for the dizzy change in the pull of gravity. You watched through heavy lids as he shed pants and settled between the welcome splay of your thighs upon his knees, hands coming to brace over you as he bent to nuzzle the warm wash of nipping kisses up your throat.
For all his teasing, he took you so slowly. The smoke and ash taste of him mingled with your own salt-sweet on his mouth as it closed over yours as he spread you, worked you gently with thrusts so tenderly careful you could feel his hips shivering, feel the stringing tension coursing through each line of him as he held himself in check while you rocked up against him, inviting him into the welcoming heat, savoring each ridged rise and thick, pressing texture as he sank within you.
It was Silco this time who was gasping for air once he lay fully seated, hips rocking as if he could not stop the mind numbing, overwhelming urge to move against you. The blade of his nose pressed to your cheek, fanged mouth open over yours, stealing breath and air as you whispered and moaned soft encouragement and adoration up at him. Until he was gazing down at you, laying in his arms, the backs of his dark knuckles caressing your jaw.
When the pair of you moved again, you moved as one.
Entwined, you arched under him to each slow roll of his hips. Etched against the night sky above you he was a glorious, terrible beauty, the searing glow of that burning ruby eye and the crowning glory of his dark horns singing to something wild within you. Had you biting tenderly at his lower lip, tugging, licking at his sharp teeth and hot slide of his tongue. Yours, your dragon, your heart, like he had actually torn it from you that day and ate it all up and now went walking the earth and flying through the clouds with it still caught, stuck a tender beating thing behind his fiery maw, still aching for him within the furnace of his own chest.
Your fingers could not drink enough of him, could not seek enough of his heat and the texture of his skin, from face to throat, shoulders to ribs to the slow roll of his hips. He sighed into your touch and shoved his face hard into the crux of your neck and shoulder, sucking shivering, deep gulps of breath as if he’d imprint the very scent of you this night into an indelible stain of perfection on his memory.
“Silco… Silco…” Thick and sweet as the rich butter you’d had on hot bread back at the tavern days ago, his name slid from your throat, filling your mouth, more heady than any wine or ale, tasing better than any luscious fruit. You made a song of your desire for him, pitch lifting as he moved all the faster within you. Always fit to break for him, always a wonder at how deep, how full, how perfect he took you. Dragon-bound, his, made together on some strange forge.
He was snarling, groaning, the deep rumblings of his chest crushed to yours only heightening each exquisite sensation. He stopped your voice with a slow, deep kiss, followed by a thrust just as agonizingly deep and gradual. Breaking the sweet, suckling languor of his devotion to your mouth to gaze down at you.
And for a moment, just for a breath, he was that broken, lonesome boy on the side of the mountain pass again; touched by a terrified tenderness and longing and fear that had seasoned over centuries to a knife’s blade of emotion.
“I love you.” The whisper of it caught in his throat, hitched and broke.
And in that tidal pull of his breaking dam you rushed up to meet him, to tug him under into your waves, to show him, tell him, let him eat the love, the heart right out of you again. His; beating to the rhythm of dark wings across a harvest moon, where the lifting sparks of fire and the brilliant glow of stars all became one drifting constellation.
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One lovely recollection
A sigh left their slightly parted lips at their cousin, who never once ceased her incessant rant. "I can't believe uncle put you in an arranged marriage with that lame wimp. I heard that he looks too weak to be able to stand by himself, what a disgrace to the Goetia family. Ha! Pathetic." She laughed mockingly, tapping her foot impatiently against the marble floor.
Her cousin gave no response to her, and their eyes never strayed away from the book in their grasp. As the other child seemed to be disinterested in the conversation with her, she huffed with irritation. "When will you ever stop reading a book every second? It's so boring to be cooped up in the palace and have no one to play with because you're just keeping your nose in one again."
"It's just a lovely hobby that I picked up, Stella." Her cousin simply smiled at her and placed a bookmark in between a page before closing the book. "Anyways, since it's sooo boring here with me. Why don't we do something else?" At their suggestion, her expression brightened.
"Let's go to the garden and have a tea party!" Her lips curled into a wide smile, whilst she held a hand upward.
A ghost of a smile appeared on their cousin's face, she seemed excited about the tea party, so, they should entertain it for a while. If she wanted to do so, they would agree with the idea. One secret held by the child was that they adored their cousin, no matter her temper. "Alright, it'd be good to get some fresh air."
Her dainty hand clasped over theirs and she quickly dragged them to the palace gardens. Rambling to her friend along the way. "We'll act like one of those nobles, with prim and proper manners. And then, we'll share gossip about the latest scandals!" Giggles left the pair of children, as they enjoyed their walk toward the garden.
However, the sight that greeted both of the children was not expected.
An owl demon clung to a tree branch, his grip around it was tight. As though if he were to loosen his grip, it would result in his demise. Perhaps, it was the truth. Beads of sweat trickled down his face as he desperately tried to scare away a beloved pet of theirs. "Er, umm- stay away! I'm not scared of you!" His words contrasted his pitiful state, as the child trembled violently at the growls emitted from the hound.
The two children watched the whole event with slight amusement, whilst concern dwelled in the older one's being.
"Hey, (Name)?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't help him."
"..."
"I want to see where this goes."
"But I don't want to be a witness to a murder."
He raised his other hand to wave around a stick, only for it to slip out of his grasp and into the hound's gaping maw. The owlish child could only stare in horror as the stick was swiftly decimated by the beast. Only snapping out of his daze when a voice called out to the creature.
"Clemento! Stop that foul behavior right now!" They ordered the hound, who quickly retreated from the tree and ran to its owner. Barking happily, he nuzzled into their palm. "You have to stop doing that to everyone you aren't familiar with." The demon muttered as they stroked the hound's fur.
Meanwhile, their beloved cousin was awed by the sight of Clemento. She had seen the hound often, but there was never a time when he was this close to her. As she had opted to admire Clemento's majestic appearance from afar. Her feathered fingers twitched while she resisted the urge to pet the hound, turning to her cousin with sparkles in her eyes, she asked. "Can I touch him?"
"Hm, sure." They carefully guided Clemento in her direction, and Stella slowly approached the hound. Soon afterward, the two bonded, rather quickly. "Just be sure not to choke him with your tight 'hugs'. I know you won't be able to help yourself."
"Ahem."
Their attention drifted to the owl boy, who was still stuck in the tree. A faint red glazed over his cheeks at the next words he would spout, "Um... Could you please help me get off this tree?"
His words brought forth confusion in the demon, "Can't you just jump?"
"Ah, well you see... I'm a bit scared of heights. And this tree is pretty tall."
"... Fine." They strode forward to the tree, stopping when they reached a place just below the owl demon. Their arms spread, and they gazed at him expectantly.
Silence reigned over them as the owl demon registered their actions in his mind, and moments after, "You're going to catch me?" He asked a useless question.
"Yes. Why else?" They deadpanned at the child, waving their outstretched arms slightly.
"I ...suppose you're right." He breathed in deeply, internally preparing himself for the jump.
A small gasp escaped their lips as a flurry of navy feathers landed in their arms. He clutched their arms lazily, a bit dazed from his previous adrenaline rush. With the proximity, they were able to observe his features. He had two pairs of mesmerizing, crimson eyes without pupils. Porcelain skin, and that bright smile of his.
They thought he was... "Pretty."
Making a blush rise upon his face, painting it a beautiful shade of red. He stumbled with his words to find a response, "I... Um, thank you?"
"Thinking back on our first encounter, it was hilarious! Seeing the Stolas, a great prince of hell, stuck in a tree due to running away from one of my old pets. And that he had to ask me to help him!" Their words reduced the owlet into a giggling mess, whilst they draped a blanket over her.
Once her giggles ceased, she felt a light kiss pressed on her forehead. A satisfied smile made its way to her expression as she nuzzled further into her blanket, feeling the temptations of sleep get her. But not before a voice bade her farewell, "Sweet dreams, my beloved owlet. I will see you again in the morning."
#stolas x reader#stolas x spouse! reader#helluva boss stolas#helluva boss#fluff#wholesome#x reader#helluva boss x reader#reader insert#May be continued#young stolas#young stolas x young reader#helluva boss stella#young stella & young reader
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Cont. II @musemelodies
A slight frown appeared on his maw upon hearing the meerkat's response. He understood Timon was tired and yet being as young as he was, Simba couldn't just go wandering off in the middle of the night since it'd worry the other two come morning. "But Timon, that's-" Once again the smaller animal was out like a light within a few seconds. "...I'm still up." the cub said quietly.
Slowly padding off a short way toward his own sleeping spot, Simba laid down again resting his head on his paws. If only he'd explained why he'd been awake in the first place that might've changed things. A nightmare had previously woken him and now the lion couldn't get back to sleep. Why would he want to either given its subject matter? The stampede seemed to be a reoccurring theme these days whenever nightmares came into play.
Listening to the sounds of the night, Simba closed his eyes trying his best to come up with his own tale to help him sleep. "Once upon a time there was a brave lion who...who..." He quickly paused mostly growing too concerned with where his thoughts would end up going if he continued. The cub needed a distraction. His gaze fell back upon the figures of the sleeping warthog and meerkat blissfully snoring away without a care in the world.
How nice.
"Who...really needed help right now and didn't get any." A sigh escaped him. This wasn't going to work. Drumming up courage as he stood up and wandered back over, the lion cub tried again after a time. "Timon? Timon. I-" Simba just hoped all the snoring didn't drown out his words so a paw poked the meerkat lightly instead. "I had a bad dream... I really need a story. Bad."
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It was sitting around for a while on my drafts and I couldn't add more things. Tried to finish updating my sona.
Might make some tweaks from time to time.
Nebby have black curly hair who holds a fluffy (or poofy) aspect. It's lenght is somewhere between medium-long, but it looks short because of shrinkage. Nebby usually styles it by parting the hair towards their left side, doing two small curls by finger in their right for constrast, who are accompanied by three eye-shaped hairclips in the parted side. Nebby usually holds their hair in a low, curly bun, where the two curls are longer and more noticeable.
Eyes are found in a dark brown, appearing as black unless a light source hits it. They wear black round glasses. Outside of the "disguise" (or glamour), Nebby's eyes have black sclera and the pupils are shaped like a four pointed star. While the left eye's iris is colored in a pale lavender and the pupil in salmon, the right eye is contrary.
Nebby's outfit varies on the mood and day! They usually wear a sweatshirt with a white collar and a purple gradient growing lighter in a gooey-like effect, there are also different patterns of eyes silhouettes. The tip of the sleeves are the same as the collar, white, with "double sleeves", having the ones underneat being salmon on the left and pastel yellow on the right. To go with the shirt, they wear black overalls with a *slight* lavender tone, the shoulder strap of the left side is untied and fallen. As for the shoes: two high-top converse shoes, the right one is salmon and the left one is in a pastel yellow, same tones as the sleeves, just on opposite sides.
Nebby possesses six wings that varies in size. A small one on their head and ankle, a medium sized on their neck and three large ones on their back. All on their right side. The wings used to be in pairs, totalizing twelve, the other six were ripped from them. Eyes often show up on them.
Fun facts and curiosities:
The eyes in both the shirt and the hairclips, change according to Nebby's emotions, giving support and acting as a "second face" for them.
Limited shapeshifting, stability is depicted by how many eyes are shown in their face, usually the more they have, the worse is the struggle to hold themself together.
Tend to tilt their head and body around when curious.
Nebby is awfully quiet, giving the impression of appearing next to someone whenever they show up.
Very fidgety. "Plays" with their hair when overstimulated.
Relies on body language to read people.
Often carries an umbrella with them, but still prefer to take rain showers.
There are teeth hidden amongst their wings' plumage, it can become a maw.
Nebby doesn't have a halo! That's because they are not necessarily an angel, despite being heavily based on seraphims. Their concept inclines to an abyssal being, mixed with boogeyman quirks.
#Not my proudest work I'm still rusty from descriptions.#Still - it didn't end up as bad as I thought it was. I tried to describe the outfit by using the little irl and game reference I got.#Wanted to keep some of their “mimic” bits too.#Do not touch - I will rip (more than) your arm.#Nebby (Sona)
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